Oh Maina Oh Maina..

It was summers of March, 2011. One friend of mine had suggested we visit the Sukhna Lake, not that it was extraordinary but he insisted we have “Sukha Bhel” near the entrance. While I munched on my independent “Sukha Bhel” & Pati on his (basically in laws shared his bhel), the moon watched me and the wind being nice, blew across my face. Basically there was no disturbance.

Just then one aunty and her in 30s daughter sat next to the bench I sat. They were speaking in “Kannada” assuming I wouldn’t understand. The 30s daughter also had a kid, 5yrs old which was playing in the kid zone. Both mother & daughter kept shouting, “hey Deeksha, jopana”. By then Pati had heard them speak in Kannada as well & he was all excited to find Kannadigas there. For me it’s no big deal & as much as I respect my privacy, I respected theirs and did not hear to what they spoke.

But they started talking nonsense; that how Kannadigas are stubborn and have no sense of pride. How she was a great actress & had to quit because her husband didn’t want her to. According to her, there are so many people in the other industries who have let their wives work. “Look at me, I was so happening in Gandhinagar”, she complained to her mom. Now that’s when I looked at her, after much effort to the brain I realized who she was. “Successful”, I almost ROFLed; she went on cursing so many producers, directors and actors. Now what irked me the most was when she spoke rubbish about Dodappa. I remember how she was chosen for the role in one of his movies, how much she had taken out of the movie, it was that movie that made anyone say she is “one” of the actresses, small big whatever.

My “Sukha Bhel” was almost over now, & by then, her mother asked me “Excuse me, where do you get the one you are eating”.

I said “Aunty, ille gate hathra siguthe” (you get them near the gate)

Oh the expression on their face was that of a life time. They were shocked that I spoke Kannada & had listened to the entire conversation.

Aunty finally spoke “Oh neevu Kannada-davara? We have come from Karnataka, with normal people. We thought we’ll see how it feels to be like normal, meet my daughter, you must know her, and she is an actress *A*”

“Howdha, which movie have you acted” I said.

Pati by then had smelled fire & took me off. Big actress it seems, she was bloody in one of those big buses that takes north India trip for 30 days, & even near the bus kept telling someone “Oh I hate it when people recognize me”.

Recognize, my foot. I didn’t feel like giving her a smile.

 

P.S: Her name is in the blog title, go figure it out!

 

Letter to Maama

Nanna mudhu maama,

Yesterday I was talking with Pati about, oh wait, I haven’t introduced you to my Pati, yes maama your kid is all grown up now & handling a household (not technically but yeah). Meet Vinay, who is taking all my tantrums & yet doesn’t complain a bit, & maama you need no introduction to Pati. We talk about you all the time.

I tell him how you would come to my school at the end of every final exam to pick & take me straight to ajji mane. You would have also told ajji to make “gulab jamoons” & together we would eat after lunch. I remember how everyone were scared to wake you up during your afternoon nap, I would just pounce you, sit on your tummy and say “maama yedhLi” and you never yell at me. How can I forget you lifting me every time we went to chunchungiri for pooja? I was so proud of you when you quit smoking after your engagement with that lady.

You wouldn’t believe I still have all the audio cassette collections. The one you had numbered alphabetically and had the numbers written against the movie names on a sheet of paper. I had no idea that day, today it will be reserved as a memory, as your memory. If today I am called filmi, it’s all coz of you. Remember how you bunked work and we went first day first show for all the movies, Kannada/Hindi, some very good ones and some real crappy ones; these days its Pati who gets punishment with crap stuff.

We cleaned your room few months back, & I found “Badhukalu kaliyiri” book in your wardrobe. Did you really have to leave us after reading that book? Dad gets to hear a lot of stuff from me for that one mistake of his. That fault which did not let me get one last glimpse of yours. In his defense I was young, but today when I realize I wasn’t there at your cremation, it breaks me, rips me apart. How horrifying it would have been for your soul for not having me, your lovely sose, by your side while you bid farewell from the materialistic world.

I have done it quite a few times maama, doing it again, I am sorry. But I have been with ajji for the short span she was with us; always in your memories, weeping and sobbing for losing her jigar ka tukda. I have also yelled at ass relatives who suggested that grandpa should re-marry coz the son has been lost. & every time mom had nightmares I have been by her side too, consoling her that her brother is always around, never gone. About grandpa, I have no words, for what all he went through, he is doing great now. I am sure he still keeps thuthu in his plate for you & ajji. I think I’ll break now, I should stop.

Before I go, I’ll promise you that no matter what, your room and everything inside will be untouched. Even when we take a decision to alter the house. I know you rest there, in peace and in happiness.

Love,

Putti  

 

 

 

Dums: Nod-dhe Nod-dhe Nodbardhanna Na Nod-dhe

This goes way back in 2004, on one fateful morning when Dums was walking from hostel to the classes at the PS block.

It was wheezing problem Veena’s class. Myself, T and M were already in the respective places. The flowers Veena wore were as fresh as her just done make-up. She had almost started the class when Dums made an entry.

“Excuse me maam”, she said.

“Bega barakke agalwenri?” yelled Veena.

“Maam…..” there was a sense of smashaaNa mauna in the class, apart from we 3 giggling.

“Come in”

Within few minutes Dums settled in her place. I observed that she was sweating. I asked her to chill, “ley it’s just a class. Why so much tension” I wrote on the chit and passed.

This was our usual thing. We just didn’t make chits for internals but we had chits for every class. I think it was BSR who once said “Don’t you think I know that you gals chat in chits?” Yeah, we made sure we increased the intensity of the chit writing. Also we didn’t waste paper; every space the chit was thoroughly utilized. The amount of chits could araam se boil water for two days.

Coming back, she was still tensed. That’s when I knew something was wrong. I mean couldn’t imagine my close friend getting anxious about missing Veena’s class. Nah, Never!!!

 

I wrote “babes you all right? Yenaithu?” and passed the chit.

“@#$%^&*! My eys are bledin kaNe. sw smtn dt shouldn’t hv”, then it was passed to all the 3. Veena was shouting at someone by then and I couldn’t stop myself, I spoke.

“Will you please tell us, curiosity is killing us?” all 3 agreed. I am not sure about T though, she would be still wondering what the first line in the chit was, can’t blame her, she used to sit towards the side where the lecturers walked.

Following is the extract lifted from that chit (spelling mistakes are totally Dums fault, she is known for that)

 

D wrote “I ws comin twrds clas via PH block. Almst rchd PS block & 1 guy, he stood ther, hd removed his pant &…… “

We 3 didn’t have words, to talk or to write. For the next few minutes I think Veena’s voice was heard carefully, but with so many questions in our minds. By the time she started calling attendance; T also had understood and was in a state of shock.

We were hoping the next class which was of SG (I suppose) shouldn’t happen. It did and that too without a gap. We were struck again with chits. I couldn’t wait any longer.

I wrote “r u fine? He ws far right?”

Dums: S far. M Nt fine. I sw it L

M: L sorry dummu. Apne aap ko sambhalo

T: *silent*

 

Lunch that day was silent too. No one spoke; then again Dums broke the silence. “I think we should report this, few of the hostel gals were also complaining”, I agreed. I think it was T or M who denied, “sumne Y headache” they said.

That was spoken for few days and then forgotten. But 2 months later something really terrible happened. We were done with the internals on the 1^st floor and were coming down, that’s when all 4 of us saw him. He was doing the same, jerking himself.

T shrieked. And 4 of ran towards the cycle stand near the Nescafe. I called the security and said something which of course I don’t remember. & if you know about the security they were just bunch of losers, who knew just to whistle at students and couples and groups. Never ever did the real job of securing people.

So that security ran towards the place where all our hands were pointed to, but by then he ran away. Few even told us that he might be the gardener at the college. Whatever man, why show his garden to us? What ill had we done to witness such horrifying scene?

 

Like we were so scared that we screwed up our marks that sem, really!!

 

P.S: Thanks to Dums for allowing me to script this incident. You are a brave girl lady, I mean watching that twice, phew medal kodsbeku :D

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

Men!!!!

Location: Presidency Golf Club, Mumbai

I woke up with a massive headache. People who are in virtual sites these days give nothing but headaches, yeah so the head was reeling. Pati was still sleeping like a log, so I being Typical Bharatiya Naari and all decided not wake him up.

I promptly picked up the intercom and called kitchen. It was 8am and yet none picked up. What fools they must have been. With so much efforts I got off bed and took these real dragging steps to reach the door (it was just a try to wake Pati up, he never bulged), I went to the reception and have a look at this conversation.

 

Me (rubbing eyes): Errrr Tea?

Some idiot at the reception: Madam, are you offering tea to me?

Me: K

 

How can someone be that cheesy?

 

Threads & Knots - 2

Story till here

& it took lot of time to clean up the glass mess.

Joke apart, I don’t think he recognized me. But I did. Mihir was the brightest of all kids in school. I could trust my memory; we were classmates from 5^th till 9^th.  He was one of those kids who sat in the front bench and by hearted syllabus page wise, like the “Vicki the robot” kinds.

I still remember Independence Day celebrations where I and Mihir hosted the show. That’s when I actually understood that the guy was not just about books, he had an amazing outlook towards life. Within no time we were best buds when the kids around started talking ill about us. I was just 15 then and totally freaked out, I even thought what if this remains a “kaLank” for the rest of my life. What if no one marries me, and then I would have no kids. Those days my ambition was to get married and have kids. Coming back, I decided to do it, to stop all the crap talks all I did was tie him rakhi & make him my rakhi brother. It shut everyone up at school.

Now if Mihir is my brother Mahantesh would be my brother too isn’t it? I called off the wedding and quoted the reason, my inner sense wouldn’t permit to do it. Not at all, so that was it, love story with a brutal ending.

P.S: Stop tying rakhis to every Tom, Dick and Harry. This could happen to you as well.

 

Threads & Knots - 1

“Madam, aapke pakoras” yelled the stallwala.

Pakoras, according to me is the best thing to happen with rains. I mean hot coffee too, but nothing can beat the spicy *ssssss* *aaaa* taste during cold rainy season. Nothing!

In case you guys are wondering, yes I am having it all by myself. One plate completely. That’s me. I hate sharing food. & pakoras, oh oh no sir no. Never. Dot. Mumbai monsoons are like river Cauvery when she is 124.8ft. Yeah full. Not beautiful and calm so that you leave “baagiNa”, but with rain water clogged everywhere and muddy puddles and raincoats and umbrellas and autowaalas splashing water to pedestrians and ok you get the point.

On such a rainy day, while I having pakoras, I saw him. Not a TDH figure, but neat, crisp and dignified sorts, kinda like Aamir Khan having paani-puri and giving credit card instead of cash in “Ghajini”. Ah that way. & he saw me too. He saw me staring him. Must have thought who is this maal? coz I am a maal material. 5”4 tall, long hair with no lattt, fair-and-lovely applied skin, koeld eyes, small bottu, nude lipstsick, black umbrella having violet flowers, no high heels. If you think that doesn’t classify a “maal” type, then to hell with you.

& like the Bollywood movie, we started seeing each other. In that pakoras stall. For some time we never spoke. I think it was me who initiated, “Do you have change”, and I asked him. Shameless of me, but what the heck, also so stupid of him not to have the change; then the meetings shifted a little higher, where there was a chath a.k.a roof. We were like the kaathe-peethe couple.

Like every couple fresh in love, it was talks and talks and chats and chats. Oops I think I forgot to introduce my self to you all. I am “Neenu”, array not Upendra’s movie character, parents actually named me “Neenu”. If you have any problem, go ask them. Except that you cant, coz I will not give you my address. His name “Mahantesh”, correct not “Rahul” or “Prem” or “Sameer”.

We were done with first year anniversary too. Not the wedding, the dating anniversary. That’s when I was sure it was him. I could eat with him for the rest of my life. May be even share pakoras, & I told him I was ready. We called our respective parents and set up the meeting. The talks happened and they were fine. I know boring, no caste or poverty issues or any crap thing. It was a green signal.

The dates were fixed, rings exchanged and we were officially couple. Just when I though it was just happiness, is when Mahi’s brother returned; of course from America.

& my life shattered.

*insert a lot of glass breaking noise*

 

to be continued

 

 

 

 

Oh Kids These Days

Not sure where but my 2yr old niece has learnt the word “maga”, probably from hindi-to-kannada-horribly-translated-advertisement on TV

 

Yesterday we had few dignitaries at home, one of them being principal of prestigious Medical College for lunch. They were all praises for 2 years old; that she is very active, brilliant & kept pinching her cheeks as often as possible. Post lunch, when they were about to take leave, the kid shouts “bye maga” to him.

 

Not sure if any of his students had that guts to call him that way, but ya this, he’ll remember the child for many more years to come.