On Theatre Rd.

Yesterday there were 5 of us sitting under the tree infront of Vien (our hallowed tea stall) when a middle aged lady passed us by screaming into her cellular phone, "I am not your boyfriend okay."

There have been no typos in the aforementioned. It was a lady, and yes she said boyfriend. Nor was it a figment of my imagination. I have 4 witnessess. FLUMMOX.

Cheers.

Mellow Yellow Evenings

Ever noticed the brightness of a city after sunset? I'm not sure, but while taking a long city walk (from Rabindra Sarovar to Theatre Rd.) it suddenly struck me that the evening lighting in Calcutta, ie. the streetlights, are far mellower than that of other cities that I've been to recently. Atleast this winter. Its not that there isn't sufficient lighting, although one does pass through certain areas that are left in the darkness (eg. next to Poddopukur, today there were no streelights) which is not so bad thanks to the numerous car headlights that invade the street. But in general, compared to the Bangalore and Hyderabad, this time's Calcutta winter evening seems beautifully mellow in just the perfect amount of yellow streetlight. Also it could be because of pollution leading to smog. But its beautiful nevertheless. Beautiful the way the streets reflect the yellow shine of its tar, and pavement roll/chow shops illuminate the way for pedestrians with their 100 watt bulbs hanging off their store ceilings; and its a continuum of mellow yellowness surrounding the walking man.

Walking down the streets of Calcutta I can't help but notice how the city is full of pictures. One is surrounded by images. Images of what kind I cannot say (I am not a photographer), but I haven't noticed such perfection of black and white stills ready and waiting to be captured in any other city. And they simply pass you by, like walking through a rolling still documentary. From the rickshaw-wallahs waiting outside Bhobani cinema with its Bhojpuri movie advertisement outside, to the jumping jack flames from underneath a slightly titled tawa, to the annoyed little boy/girl (I couldn't figure out) trying to grab a bite out of his/her candy floss as his mother tries to adjust his/her maanki cap (monkey cap).

There is a certain beauty in the pictures and stories and the life of this city that appeals to me in a way no other place ever has. And I know I am home.

Criminal coming into my palace

Yesterday a friend posted on his blog about 'bumping' into a Hummer on Rafi Ahmed Kidwai St. in Calcutta. I was with him when the same occured. He was completely flummoxed by the entire episode. He couldn't believe his eyes. I had never seen a Hummer before so it was quite exciting to finally see one, but the inanity of its presence (apparently an All Terrain Vehicle used primarily by the United States Army which runs at 2kms/lt. ie. a completely useless vehicle to possess in Calcutta) in the aforementioned crowded bylane was not lost upon me. My friend was speechless. He studies in the United States so finding a Hummer in Calcutta was absolutely pointless and surreal to him. It was even more surreal to me since our teeny weeny local auto easily overtook it (of course it did, that goddamn car ate up half the street to move). We simply dismissed it as another of the random surprises that life in Calcutta chucks at you.

Surpises continued right till today when the same friend and I, while on our regular walk back down Theatre Rd. to Park Circus from our favourite tea stall, overheard a Puchkawallah (Panipuriwallah) tell his companion that "a criminal coming into my palace and..." (we pass him by and his voice trails off and yes he spoke precisely those words in English). My friend and I flummoxed yet again out of our wits burst out laughing at the randomness of it all.

I don't know what to say. I'm still grinning as I type. Its real good to be back home.

Home & Hiatus

I came home late 13th night and life has been blissfully hectic since then. There were surprises and counter surprises, friends arriving from across the atlantic and friends leaving to live their dreams. Amidst all this chaos I've found this time's Calcutta winter to be particularly exhilarating. It's not cold (it never really is in my nick o' the woods). But its beautiful and nippy every morning, and continues to remains so for the rest of the day, allowing my mom to force me to put on a sweater before leaving home.

Also my monitor has gone caput hence no more blogging or checking mail for a while. Randomly most Calcutta Net Cafes have begun asking for Photo IDs from their clients. I don't what brought this on, but being ID less effectively rules out my presence on the net. I guess its a sign. I'm yet to figure out for what.

So thats it for this week and the next. I'll probably be back post 3rd Jan. In the 'new' year. Cheers.

Of Internships and The End of an Era

This is my last morning in office. My internship at EnY ends today and with it comes to an end the "Age of being an Intern", for this stint was my last internship (I've done 8). After this I shall be expected to sit for Campus Recruiments next month and then hopefully begin the working class life.

In all the trial runs of being a working man that I've had before the erstwhile internship, I had enjoyed my 1st internship at ICHRL the most. Primarily for 3 reasons:

1) I got to travel all over Maharashtra conducting a survey. Travel basically.

2) I got to travel with 3 very pretty women.

3) I loved the work I did, and was good at it. Made an impression on my colleagues and am still in touch with most of them.

Its strange now that from a career perspective I cannot do a similar internship, ie. not work in a NGO. From my 3rd year onwards I focussed more on law firms/corporates/banks to find work. And I did get opprtunities in decent places, however nothing was quite like ICHRL.

I didn't come to Bangalore with any hopes of "enjoying" my work. I came to work, and to impress and thereby assuring myself a job in this firm. However, being a large office I got to meet a lot of people here and from different academic backgrounds such as CAs and BBMs. And strangely I found myself having fun working with them. Its not like the work was great or really really fascinating. But it was more like 'boss work is work, we have to get it done but no point not having fun while we're at it'. People at EY hang out in groups, and I found myself a chilled out bunch of people across departments to hang out with (or rather they found me). We played pranks, shared cigarettes, pulled each other's legs, shared info on pretty chics in office, and competed with one another on cracking the worst jokes ever. Good fun.

I really liked my stint at EY and would put this last internship of mine right up there with my first. Life's come a full circle I guess, and whereever I am I do hope to meet these guys again.

I was also thinking, just to give people a hint of these new acquaintances I've made, what some of them would be like if I had met them in a fantasy novel set in the medieval times. The times of kings and courtiers. I think they would be;

1) Imran : Definitely the court jester.

2) Shriya : The matron. Sweetness overflowing.

3) Thomas : The stud boy. Medieval or modern, Tommy always gets to be the stud boy.

4) Mohit (Suzy) : The court pansy.

5) Jomu : The King's private dealer.

6) Saket : The wise Vizar.

Cheers to them all. And maybe some alcohol tonight. God Bless.

Wanderings & Wonderings

I have been sort of 'out of commission' for the last couple of days. Which means I had not come to work and hence had no access to Internet. Instead on Tuesday, ie. 2 days ago, I spent an entire day walking certain familiar parts of Bangalore and reading comics. The day started with me having a grand total of Rs. 110 to spend the entire day for myself. I had no work cause it was Bakri-Eid and corporate houses are shut, unlike bloody law firms. So I headed out to the nearest bus station and caught a ride to MG Road. The conductor cut me a 10 rupee ticket for a 7 rupee ride (I was enlightened to this fact by a kind elderly gentleman sitting next to me. If anyone wants to live in Bangalore on budget, my advice is LEARN THEIR FUCKING LANGUAGE!).

So anyway I got off at my destination, and headed to a bookstore on Residency Rd. where I had found a copy of this comic that I had started reading the previous day but couldn't finish (Berlin : City of Smoke, Vol-II by Jason Lutes...brilliant, sequel to Berlin : City of Stone which I haven't read). I was sitting in the comics section with another pony tailed young man, who too like me, seemed alone and impoverished. I was absorbed in my reading and did not notice when he left. However, a while later I felt the urgent need to fill my stomach and lungs (I needed food and a cigarette). There is this place called 'India Coffee House' on MG Road, a little walk away from Cauvery Jn. Its the place to hit in that entire area when you want to eat and have a maximum of 50 bucks to spare. The food isn't great, but its fine, and the ambience is brilliant. The place is also frequented by foreigners and pretty women (the latter is another reason a man should drink coffee there even when he's 'not broke'). So I entered and placed my order and lo! At the table next to mine, seated was the ponytailed man. He recognised me and we exchanged nods. Also we were the only 2 people sitting alone so we decided to share our table and time. His name was Pravin something. He was a mallu engineer with a taste for comics.

After this I headed out to Rest House Rd. to my regular 'panwallah' who sits outside Pecos. Pecos is a pub I used to frequent very often during my earlier stints in Bangalore. In fact it was my favourite joint in the city. But of late it has become a place I can't seem to have a good time in. A lot of things about it has changed/unchanged that has taken my heart off it. Firstly the old black and white sign board on top with a collage of rockstars, especially containg a stunning image of Syd Barrett in the center (yes I used to like Barrett, but that was then). Now they have a bright red sign board which has images of Zappa, Barrett and Hendrix that to my taste looks really cheap. Also their Menu card used to be in the shape of an enlarged guitar pic with quotes from various musicians on every alternate leaf. This too has been replaced with a regular 'book style' menu. Plus their traditional 'free popcorn' with the pitcher is no more. Fortunately for me they recognise me here and often get me popcorn with my pitcher. However, I wish it were all the same.
The thing that hasn't changed is their goddamn playlist. They've been playing the SAME music in the SAME order for 3 years now!! I mean 9 out of 10 times in Pecos you'll find Skynyrd or Rolling Stones in the evenings, followed by maybe a dash of CCR (unless they've played it in the aftrenoon), then move on to Nirvana/Pink Floyd/Led Zeppellin, followed by The Doors post nine o' clock, and maybe Jimi Hendrix before shutting down. Fuck I have that place by heart man! I can never go in there anymore. (Note : Good cheap pub available mostly for men right next door to Pecos, and guess what, you can smoke in there. In fact they still supply customers with their own matchbox. Something thats gone from most pubs in the city, thanks to Mr. Ambubani I-will-decide-whats-good-for-you-beta Ramdoss. This place is called Brigade Fuel. Very very cheap too.)
However, it was nice having a smoke outside the place where I have had millions of memories, in fact the best memories in this city. I was woken out of my reverie by a tiny kid, sandwiched between his mum and dad on a bike that stopped right infront og me for some reason, waving something shiny at me. The kid held out on of those multi-coloured windmill thingies on a thin wooden stick that you used to find in the random fairs/melas that used to take place in Calcutta when I was a kid. You don't get those melas anymore, atleast not in Calcutta, nor do you get these windmills or whatever you call them. I'm sure there's a term for it, but I forget what.

Anyway, it started drizzling and I headed back to the bookstore to finish reading and I was in the middle of a comic called '100 bullets', thats like something out of a Tarantino action film spoof when out popped before me an angel!
Ok 'It' was no angel, not in the traditional winged, beautiful (hehe), sexless way atleast. Rather 'It' was what always comes around when there's no one else to come aorund. So off we went, 'It' and I, to gulp down more coffee ('It' paid ofcourse!!) and bitch and laugh and reminisce and discuss current politics and terrorists.

It was a nice day, day before yesterday, but its an old day now. (Sorry Mr. Anderson, I know I can get real corny sometimes).

Nothing worth talking about happened yesterday. I bunked work to read a comic. Felt damn proud that I'm still capable of such impulsive behaviour, though my mother wouldn't approve.

Today I'm in office wasting time.

Painted Heroes

Being broke and jobless is a terrible state to be in, especially in a city. Having no money in one's pocket can make an entire city look mean and boring. And no I'm not the type to sit at a bookstore and read novels for hours I can't do that, I do not possess the attention span. However, Garphic Novels are an entirely different ball game all together. I love Comics/Graphic Novels. It started when a close friend from school and myself discovered the 'timepass' of sitting in Landmark Kolkata (Now Starmark or StarMart...I'm not sure) and read Batman Comics day in and day out. We used to love heroes, and had built their characters in our heads while living their lives as our own. I guess other people do the same with Literature and all, but I'm not literary. I thrive on the explictly entertaining. The fake and the romantic and the brave. So Batman. In the process I also got hooked to the X-Men series that too was launched sometime around then in Calcutta.
I remember a few years later the aforementioned friend got his first salary, and with it he bought himself a new novel called Blood. I forget the author, and last I heard he had lost his copy of the same. But like yea, we were really into it. In college I discovered Alan Moore and Neil Gaiman. Mostly Neil Gaiman though. His Sandman Series blew my mind. I read each and every issue over and over again. Artistically my favourite was the special edition on Despair of The Endless Nights. And then came The Watchmen series, from which I borrow my psuedonym, after my personal hero in the same novel. Also graphic novelists like Kyle Baker and Garth Ennis helped continue the love affair that had afflicted me since my teenage years.

Growing up, and getting out in the world has been somewhat messy for me. For what I believe to be really simple reasons like me spending most of my time lost in an alternate reality. This due to the fact that, albiet being figments of some really powerful imaginations, the protagonists of these novels bear a closer resemblance to my present mental disposition than most of the 'real' people surrounding me. This also could be due to my own imagination or lack thereof leading to parasitic tendencies. However, now I've grown up, all of 22 now and won't be for long. As mentioned earlier I am interning at a really hip office surrounded by extremely pretty women who keep typing some shit all day long. The only good thing being that women in this office really wanna look hot and they try really really hard, and it shows. To good effect.

Anyway I haven't read anything worthwhile for atleast a year now. No new Comic or even any of the numerous old ones that lie rotting on my hard disk. I'm a real person now, with real reponsibilities.

So it was after long time that I found myself at the 'Comics' section of a book store in Bangalore and was left mesmerised. I mean I was like "boss where the fuck was I and when did all this shit come out??", "How come I haven't even heard of these works?". I was caught drooling/salvitating at the aforementioned section by friends waiting for me to "get done with this one. Ei please boss, aar ekta minute." It was like finding a game you used to play at school being played somewhere else, and where you are more than happy to join in. Sweet surrender and a good time.

The pictures above are of the novels I found recently and was terribly turned on by. They are "Northlanders" by Brian Woods; "Cairo" by G. Willow Wilson; and "Jar of Fools" by Jason Lutes. So if anyone likes what I read do check these out. They're different from one another and brillaint, especially if you've stayed away from your dreams for a while.

When I find myself in times of trouble...

And I do so very often. Its like I don’t see it coming, things just keep going from bad to worse, sometimes in as little time as one morning, and I simply sit through it all watching everything go wrong. I guess I’m like that. Sometimes, usually most times I can’t help the way things turn out. Or rather I choose not to. Its not a conscious choice I make, its just that I’m used to shit happening. So when things start going wrong like yesterday, I simply play along and hold my breath for things to get better.

Yesterday I woke up late in the afternoon to find my roommate completely smashed and informing me that we have to vacate our room today with a stupid grin on his face. Now we need some background. How was he drunk by 12:30 in the afternoon? It all began the night before, which we spend reminiscing good old college times with a senior of ours till some 3 in the morning and drinking away to glory. After consuming copious amounts of alcohol my roommate passed out, and eventually we all hit the sack and we hit hard. However, there was still half a bottle of rum left over in our room, which my dear beloved roommate emptied the as soon as he came to his senses in the morning. So he was drunk by the time I woke up.
Now back to the morning, ie. yesterday. I wake up, finish my preliminary packings and go down to the office to speak to the management to let them know when we were actually going to clear out. The room was booked by my roommates mum (but he couldn’t speak…refer last para, drunk story) and we weren’t really expecting a room charge. So it was kind of a minor heart attack that I suffered when I was told that we had to pay 8 days rent @ Rs.700 per day. A quick math after the shock you realize you owe something around Rs.5600. I had Rs.200 in me pocket and another 1000 odd bucks in my ATM account.
I ran back up to my room and informed my semi-passed out bastard of a friend that we are soon to be ripped of the scarcest commodity in our meager existence. He tried calling his mom to fix things up, however figuring out that he was smash drunk she cut the line. So we rushed out to the nearest ATM, withdrew all that we had and paid our bill. Then we headed to the next Government guest house where we were supposed to put up for 2 more weeks. This too was arranged by the aforementioned friend’s family. On reaching the place we found that my buddy was supposed to be carrying an Order for stay at that Guest House which in all his intoxication he had misplaced and was not to be found anymore. So here, really hungover in an alien city, I am standing before a hallowed government building heavily guarded by cops who weren’t even allowing us to keep our baggage outside their gates. Not to mention the fact that we were completely and utterly broke.

One of the many privileges of having been a junior is that you have extremely well paid seniors in almost every major city in the country. So as a last resort we sheepishly called some seniors who promptly bailed us out. So much so that I spent the night stoned, after consuming beer at a hip place, with a well cooked lamb steak being digested in my stomach. Although I had to spend half a day roaming about Bangalore with all my baggage (looking for the guest house/waiting for my senior to get free), it had turned out alright. I had a good night’s sleep, and having had to spend part of the day waiting for my senior I went to an exhibition hosted by the graduating batch of Srishti School of Design. I figured I needed a place to faf that wouldn’t cost me money. And student exhibitions generally do not cost money, even though you might find terribly exciting things there. For example a coffee table made only out of old rusted bicycle spare parts or a film shot over 3 generations or a graphic novel (Ethereal) written and drawn by a 20 year old with an uncanny similarity to Dave McKean’s (of Sandman fame) artwork or the numerous beautiful Design School chics who waltz around chewing gum. So it had been an extremely frustrating and peaceful day. I don’t know if those two words are ever used together, but it does happen to reflect my state of being pretty often, confirming the fact that I can never truly lead a “normal” life no matter how hard I try.

But I think its fun being me. At the end of the day that is. Cheers.

Into the Wild

It had been a slow and easy day at work. Having worked with 200% efficiency yesterday had left me with nothing much to do today but browse the internet. Now you find strange things on the internet, but me, I stay away from random websites etc. The only 3 things I regularly go through are the blogs of various known and unknown people I have started to follow, news websites and my mail.

The news portals online are filled with reports on the Mumbai blast and concerned as I am about the same, I needed a break. Hence I started browsing their archives and found this article from October 2005, about a 'battle' that took place in the swamps of Florida, where a Burmese Python managed to overcome an alligator and swallow it whole. However, the alligator despite being inside the python clawed at the python's stomach from the inside causing the python to explode. Its head was not found. The alligator however still perished, probably of suffocation inside the python's stomach. (See picture...that was how the wild wild warriors were found) Wnnddrr!

Of Yesterday and Today

Yesterday was a day of adventure and good karma. The entire day was splendid. Went for Jethro Tull at Palace Grounds. Again. It was special. Plus we got a lift and good autodrivers on our way back (so much for ranting against them). The Jah had been kind to us. I hope someone writes a story on it. Hunter S. Thompson style.

Today has been long and extremely productive workwise. Strangely I got tons of work out of the way and am still not feeling burnt out. Maybe I'll break my weekday alcohol abstinence and go have a drink this evening.

I'm not in the mood to talk much this evening. Peace.

Human Kindness Experiment

A fellow blogger and an old friend commented on his blog that the autodrivers in Bangalore make their Delhi counterparts seem like 'angels'. Having interned in Delhi for 6 weeks and now in my 9th week in Bangalore, I couldn't agree more. Delhi autowallahs by their very nature is rude and 'out to rip you off'. I remember another friend mentioning once that he'd asked one such driver why he's being such a 'chor'. The driver's prompt reply was "bhaiya hum nahin lootenge toh duniya hum-e loot legi"; which roughly translates to "if I don't loot, then the world will loot me". The various moralities involved in the aforementioned statement is not something that concerns me. If anyone's ever been to dilli one will vouch for the fact the over there its usually every man for himself. Unless you get really lucky ofcourse.

However, back to the autodrivers; they cheat/attempt to cheat everyone they meet. Literally. Irrespective of whether the person is or is not a local. Obviously its easier to cheat outsiders. However, in Bangalore the autodrivers, and locals in general treat outsiders with a certain...I don't know how to say, I guess the word would be "vindictiveness". If I maybe so audacious as to say so about a city that boasts its cosmopolitan nature. By locals I don't mean the crowd you come across at one of those high end law firms, or the ones you bump into at Pecos or other such pubs which are considered to be 'institutions' in this city. The segment of the public I'm talking about is to be found in the buses, or the "sagar" restaurants (veg outlets all over the city. not a brand name, but rather the word signifies a certain type of service/menu....there are too many of these, perfect competition style). In these places I have had experiences ranging from being given a ticket to my expected destination by a conductor who knew that the bus doesn't even go by anywhere near (ofcourse none of my fellow passengers bothered pointing this out the numerous tims I enquired if my stop had come by until I myself finally asked if the bus actually goes there or not) to being refused papad on the excuse that its over, late night at one such 'sagar' restaurant, five minutes after which you see some locals being served the same. I guess they were running out of papads and hence reserved them for "their own kind". Not to mention a night when I was walking home drunk and got lost and turned to some cops for directions. They started speaking to me in their language knowing fully well I wasn't understanding anything they had to say. After which they proceeded to take my wallet out. I had 6 hundred rupee notes and a 10er. They took all 600 and were "kind" enough to put a 50 rupee note back so that I reach home, and then actually showed me the way I am to take (And all this at 11:45pm just 5 minutes walk of the hallowed MG Road).

So when I was shifting PGs with all my baggage on me, I knew that the autos I was going to stop were going to try and rip me off as much as they could. Its strange but here you sort of expect to get mugged. Its just the intensity of the mugging that varies. The rates mentioned to me for an approximately 5km stretch ranged from Rs.120 to Rs.200. Being a proud bong (note miserly tendencies) I refused to entertain anything above 'Metre+Rs.20'. After dismissing about 3 autos, or rather being dismissed by them, I chanced upon an auto driven by a young man who allowed me in without any referance to the fare. I just said "AnandRao Circle bhaiya", and he nodded and promptly turned the metre. I did not wish to speak much to him lest he figures out that I really don't know the right way to my destination and hence proceeds to rip me off. He however weaved through the irritating Bangalore traffic like a pro and stayed nonchalant right through.

Ten minutes into the ride I realised I needed a smoke and wasn't carrying any, so I had to open my mouth and ask to him to stop at the next 'pan shop'. He took that opportunity to strike up a converstaion with me. It began with what brand of cigarrettes we smoked to how the petrol pump guys rip these autodrivers off by entering less than paid for amount of fuel in their tanks. Which is why my present driver always buys petrol in a bottle and fills his tank himself. I was thrilled to know that Kannadigas actually cheat other Kannadigas as well! At this point we sighted a pan shop and I asked him to pull over and offered to buy him a smoke which he politely refused. On my insistence he agreed to have a Gold Flake small. After this smoke-break the ride resumed as usual with us both being silent. I decided I like this man. Even if he cheats me it won't really be that bad. Once we reached my destination I figured I had no idea which way the guest house I was headed to was located. So I decided to get off, and search for it on foot. I got down at the circle, took down my luggage and paid our man the metre. It had come to Rs.43. I then proceed to lug my bags to the nearest pan shops and ask for directions. Again being an "outsider" I was met with random snubbs and laughs. Sometimes someone pointed to a particular direction to help, but the moment they got into details I was lost. I didn't know the language and they communicated in broken english.

What I didn't know was that my driver was nearby watching me. On seeing my absolute plight and struggle with my bags, he drove upto me from behind and asked me to get in while we searched for it in the auto. I refused but he insisted and off went traversing various one-ways and two way lanes looking for KEB Guest House. With his fluency of Kannada he finally managed to get me there, but in meantime we had gone back and forth the same route quite some distance for which he hadn't put down the metre, nor had I set a price. On finding my destination I remembered that I'm actually supposed to reimburse him, and asked him how much to pay. He refused to take any money from me by replying that just I could pay him by praying for him "dua mangna gareeb ke liye". '

I have had some rough times settling in this city, and some fine times too. But I just wanted to dedicate a page of my life to that random autoguy. I do not know his name, and this thought just hit me. However I hope this suffices as a prayer for a good man. God Bless.