I know its sort of unfair.
I know its sort of unfair.
“man it’s a mess on the screen! There are a zillion icons, I can’t find MS Word, help me out, can u come here for a sec? “
Perspiring heavily in my café cube, I called out to the only guy in charge. It was a hot march Sunday and I dint have this laptop then to type out a character certificate for my mba interview. And I only had this ‘Light Years’ internet café nearby.
What a queer name I thought. Silly science freak.
“sir please look up on the 7th row 5th column, you found it?? “
“oh mate…” I said perplexed at his memory matrix coordination “that’s one hell of a recollection, don’t tell me you know the entire desktop! “
“sir..” I could imagine him smiling mischievously from the adjacent cabin “..its easier for me this way”
“some iit’ian…” I muttered double clicking mercilessly on the W icon. The blank and white page opened reluctantly, as if disturbed from sleep.
Its dark here. Been an hour and something since power went off, but I amnt complaining for a change. Since 4 pm it’s been raining well, interspersed with the white streaks of lightening in between. Like God testing out His new dig cam in low light mode. The flash is strong, I can tell, as for every split second it lights up the world around me. The wet trees, water streaming down in new rivulets down the road…only to disappear as if some one had pulled the power plug of the TV off. Only to plunge into smoking darkness, loud darkness. But I decided to see through it. I began typing, I had decided to see through darkness, I had discovered eternal light. Long time ago.
Summer of 2009.
It was my first job and not a bad one as I saved 10 grands every month. Atleast.
Bank was some 250 kms from home so I had rented a house, still there was plenty to save form the salary. I was stingy. I regarded Warren Buffet as competition.
That stinginess often took its toll on me. Insipid breakfast couldn’t be tolerated for more than 5 days at a trot. Not at all if the menu and cook was the same for all 5 days. Since I have started and associated myself with the word cook, cooking, dishes etc let me make it clear to you. Let us have no misunderstandings. If ever it comes down to me, you and a kitchen , go in yourself. The food and agriculture ministry would give you a certificate.
It would read something like this…
“ To Mr/Ms xxxxxxx, for timely intervening and averting culinary disaster of unimaginable scale and intensity. Govt of
Truly like a gentleman though, I keep my ‘skills’ to myself. But 5 days is the max time I can test my taste buds from not going senseless. This was the 6th day and I left home early at 7am to hotel aryas pure veg restaurant nearby. Now if you’ve cared to observe, all the tamil veg hotels name themselves aryas. Some will be sree aryas, some will be aryas pure and the rest simply aryas. Its some sort of a brand I guess, though it would be nice to know which is the original one. This one near my rented place was the fake nike , no doubt. Small and ugly, it had a psycho manning the counter with blood shot eyes, bald plate and a shabby lungi hitched so up that one wished he was a kareena or for that matter karol gracias. His wardrobe always malfunctioned this way so that till date I haven’t seen any ladies in the hotel except for the octogenarian who sells fish at the roadside nearby.
This guy glared at me as he came to take order.
“whaddya want you…..”
“dosa and tea”
That was it. I never said plain dosa/masala dosa/butter roast. One reason was fear. That guy was atleast 75 kgs more than me. And one day I got iddli when I ordered onion dosa.
That was the second reason. Third reason was that idlis couldn’t sustain me till 2pm in a bank. For the sake of historians reading this, I have heard our madman attempted IIT JEE thrice when he was ..err…75 kg less and 30 years younger…after effects can be brutal and everlasting, especially on hapless hotel customers.
[PS; I don’t have anything against IIT’ians except that I don’t’ like them much].
It was 7.25am and pocket 30rs. lesser when I boarded an “ananthapuri”. The ride to office would take 20 minutes on a normal traffic day. I was too early today. Even if I ambled along at a leisurely pace from the secretariat bus stop to office, I would reach by 8 am max. 8.30 was my time. Chances were high that some guys would be there at the faulty onsite ATM with complaints. Kumar sir reached by 8.15 everyday and I find him on all days engaged with some talk [heated/soothing/argumentative/mellifluous---depending on the customer and sir’s breakfast] near the ATM.
I was never some one to let go easily off the strategic advantages of 8.30 am!
But today I had to kill time till 8.15. I wanted to make sure Kumar sir always had the chance to talk mellifluously to a “might-be-young-and-hot-womens-college-chick-with-a-stuck-atm-card”. I always respect seniority. You’ll never find me distinguishing.
Misers and stingers never suscribe newspapers. They read it off the banking hall coffee table. I had to make an exception today. Nearby newsstand was not yet crowded and Mumbai Indians had won yesterday and I heard in radio that Sachin scored a 50. Some habits and heroes die hard. So I never minded when todays account went to rs.34.5 debit balance.
The Hindu. I will tell The Hindu, if you ask me where to read your sports page from. You pick up your language and the range of columnists is awesome. From Roebuck to Dinakar you get your game funda right. Ofcourse editorials are good, but save them for better philosophically inclined [hard] times.
I was leaning on the green secretariat walls near a police constable reading manorama, analyzing sachin’s stance and elbow position in the back page foto. It was then I noticed the walking stick flipping open. It was the bus to the railway station and he was getting down here. Without lowering the paper I watched as a dark goggled young man got down slowly, one hand on the footboard railing and the other clutching the stick and groping forward. He was blind and cautious, yet sure.
Blind people have always been the cause of intrigue in me. I felt pity in my young age which in the process of growing up assumed the form of an informed compassionate image and understanding. I have helped blind people cross roads before. This time I felt no different and walked up to him and put my arm around his shoulder.
“I will help you cross”
He removed his goggles and I felt he wasn’t blind at all. The look was direct, eye to eye.
“Valare upakaram chetta. Thank You”
It was the eyes that held me, that detached me from his clear voice.
They were live, apparently so, but it wasn’t light that guided them.
I found them still trained at my earlier position, as I was taking a step forward.
It was sound bytes response, which for a second or two I mistook as a pair of normal bright pair . His eyes were a mirage of vision for mine.
We just made it before the lights turned green again. Peak hour traffic began buzzing past us.
“Where are you going, should I get an auto for you?”
“Ok, you are going back by bus? Where do you stay”
“Chetta bus undu. I stay near the medical college, lots of direct buses”
“Oh then we are neighbours, I stay at a rented house in that street near to college”
“Is it so, then you must visit my shop if you’ve any need chetta. I’m Raghu by the way”
He handed me card. I pocketed it thinking blind or not businessmen are businessmen.
“ok Raghu, I’m Rohith, I work at the bank nearby , I’m getting late , see you sometime”
“Thanks Rohit chetta, have a nice day, thank you.”
“Its ok” I muttered and headed off.
The ATM would be cash out by now, I was sure.
7.10pm. Early ‘end of the day’ I must confess. Customers and load was less today. Bless the Banking God. So target was the Aryas coffee shop. Buses plied regularly till 8.30, meant I could take it easy.
Nothing like a tamil hotel tea after evening, they serve you in those small steel glasses but its smoking hot and tasty. Called for a bit of finesse to savour it without burning your tongue tips off, which I was accustomed to by now.
While fumbling for a 5 rupee coin at the bill counter, a 10 rupee note and a piece of paper fell out of my shirt pocket. Collecting my change back I noted that it was that guy Raghu’s businees card. Had completely forgotten that. Flipping back the blank area, I walked to the bus stop reading his card.
The rain is incessant, like a toddler at a toy shop pestering his mother till she bought him the HotWheels car. Its like a phase in our lives, when we cant see through anything, cant see off anything, when we have to stand and endure, get ourselves drenched in depression to our bones with the every passing minute, hour and day.
Sometimes months and years. And more years.
Before I wouldn’t have seen through this dark sheet of rain. I would have stood perplexed and confused, cursing and fuming. Not now. Now I wait, I give space, I try. To see through this all. To see where its all going, what its all about.
Like Raghu would be doing now, by the shade of his emergency lamp which he light up for others in times like these. In times of darkness and self doubt.
Surely for a disillusioned me of the past, he held forth an emergency lamp too.
It made things clearer, help me put them in perspective.
It was a business card.
“Raghu. P.V [Owner], Light Years Internet Café, Near medical college road”.
Please stop thinking Scott Adams and i have a tie up to turn all of my blog readers
[2 and counting(since last 2 years)...] into moronic dilbert fans.
Even if we have collaborated, i assure u he isnt paying me.
ok i have exhausted my PJ quota for the morning and count urself lucky if this is my only post for the day.As these days i don't [P]joke in afternoons at all. That's the time MTV ticker runs full of them.
speaking of numbers, i have always been a big fan.
i remember how many
..runs sachin scored in 96 world cup ,
..marks i scored in my VIth std chemistry test[9.5],
..times tresa wud pass thru the corridors for her labs in college[2,forth n back],
..times i have read sherlock holmes[umpteen],
..days i was sick wen i saw exorcist 3 ,
..years later dr.license amma allowed me to drive the xing[2,watched f1 thos days!],
..calls IIMs and premier bschools gave me dis season,
..times i got employee of the month award[0, easy guess no brownie points there!]
..years I took to mature out [still counting..no stopping nytym soon by d look of it]
..times i bored people into wilderness and other despicable acts[ engineers its an infinite for loop, non enggs.its a vicious circle]
talking of numbers i cannot help but narrate a trivandrum folklore that's so embedded deep into the banking chronicles of the erstwhile princely state.infact his highness would vouch for it with his sword drawn out full length.lets not get up to dat point though..a sword is a sword.the story goes like this...
once upon a time wen customers formed snake queues and bared their banking fangs on a september 1st morning, a manager thought it was time enough to launch his young stud protege probationer[read hero] into the realms of cash counter...
for the uninitiated, the cash counter is a place in a bank wer u sit and thousands of people swarm around you, all wanting their loot of money from that pile in front of you, and would go any distance to get that (options available to them are to curse,abuse,hurl bricks,spit,snarl,bark,disembowelling kindred souls and shoot).
P.S. subject to individual ammunition availability and size of the cashier.
back to the story that reverbrates thru d bricks n souls of every tvm bank...
..in walks our gallant hero, like the trooping salman khan in veer,ther is suddenly a
shhhhhhhhhhhhhh in the gathering, as they eye him curiously from head to toe.hero wonders by the look of it all whether annual tvm gay meet'08 is today and settles in his seat..
hero had never seen a salary day rush at d bank before, and that too from the creepy confines of a cash window.to cut a long story short hero was tossed, wrecked n reduced to a bag of nerves at d end of 2 hours, counting,distributing,system data feeding, counting,distributing..counting...distributing..cash non stop..
sympathetic fellow bankers looked down as hero shut d counter for lunch break at 2pm.
wen he went to eat out at the local hotel, the blinding sunlight exploded into his eyes..he cud see only denominations everywhere..
long tall 1000rs buldings, the 50rs lottery seller, the magazine shop like a soiled 100rs note, vegetable shops full of 5rs coin aloo and 2 rs coin tomatoes...
and cheques of long queues of vehicles at the signal awaiting their turn...
the chapathi n veg curry smelled like mint fresh rbi notes...
and wen he went to pay at the hotel counter, first time in his life he tendered him exact change, smiled at the counter guy and said thank you.
that guys jaw dropped.
i have read somewhere that the last man to do so was M.K. Gandhi.
jaw droppable reason enough!
cash counters are the temples of modern India, said Jawaharlal Nehru once.
our Priest has no hesitation what so ever in agreeing hands down.
later wen hero closed shop by 3.30 pm, w/o further spectatcles the number game remained. he had to balance the days cash flow, i.e. how much came in n how much went and how much is left.
by now the hero who counted notes manually like a 3 year old at morning, was doing so like the black ticket seller by evening...
he found the tally to be a minor issue.
he ws found short of rs. 1,80,000.
means 1.8 lakhs which was shown credited to the banks' system records at his window, was found missing physically.
hero's first reaction was to go to toilet.
after some soul searching n dispersals, he came back and broke d news.
manager fainted.astonished colleagues started counting the mess.hero freaked out.
even the pune [who knew more than the PO hero anyway] joined in.
meanwhile hero went into number theory and probability for solace.
..how much shud i sell? how much wud 7 year old 3 pairs of levis and flying machines wud fetch at current market price...can i trade my grandfather gifted hmt watch under the priority antiques section of ebay...can i mortgage 1 year salary...what rate of speed can a non-athletic human body can sustain if i were to run non stop from TVM to satyamanagalm forests..wat r d alternate career options, do they still recruit naga sadhus....
it was then that aryabhatta and old saints came to his rescue[might be the naga probability appeased their heavenly souls..]
someone told him that he had entered a 0 more to a lady's account.
instead of crediting 20000 to her a/c hero had donated 200000.
an extra zero added by the sleight of hand in the keypad.
in banking terms, our hero was told, its christened as "oversight".
philanthropic streaks at an young age can lead to ascetic life styles, huh!
now that was the extra 1,80,000 bucks.hero gratefully thanked all.
hero's grandfather, for his erstwhile hmt watch, was probably a relieved man in heaven!
and yes i will remember this number story of our hero too, forever.
hope any unsuspecting reader, who was dumb enough to read dis much, wud remember it too!
hey sorry, u have got company,i forgot to tell u all...
some eminent writers are visiting my blog and emailing me off late.
i will drop u some clues...
he did his engg from dtii and amii..
he writes about different states of our country, showed the courage not to just use one index finger but the whole 5 to point at someone and blame...is always worried abt the mistakes of his life, particularly 3 or 4...and is so broke dat he spends nights at motels,railway sations and call centers...
u got the drift right?
excerpts from a conversation/chat between urs truly and the prominent writer..
me: hello, u again? [arghh..]
PW: hey need ur help.
me: now what? i told u na, now write abt that investment bank job of urs..
PW: nope i can't buddy, waise hi i already sort of mentioned it in last book..
me: so whats up, heard u sent a pink chaddi to a@m(r k(-)@n?
PW: I had ordered it online 4 myself, but i typed the address field wrong buddy.
me: i've read that's his fav color, otherwise he wud hav tweeted!
PW: talking of tweets, thats my new thread.
me: [saved OMG]..yes yes..what's the grapevine like?
PW: meeting tharoor 2day,it's almost certain- i'm going to do his autobio,in twitter!
me: OMG, Holy Cow!
this is a piece of conversation i had just few minutes ago.
still fresh my conscience, w/o any strings attached.....
and all our issues r trivial.. here we r 2 strangers under the anonymity of web 2.0, discussing mba blues wen a pilot n co pilot tries to save max lives [excluding theirs] in hyderabad.
we hv dis sagar pawan pilot team perform regularly here.i hv seen it at close quarters.[kochi s a naval command]..
so 2 ppl die and i guess it ws just brave enuf.
still ndtv ws reporting like it ws ther fault, they burned d place n tried to eject..nt so openly, bt tone ws like dat..
wen i see all this, i feel like blogging.
just wasting my time here nyway, why dnt i waste it for my brave fellow guys.
its nyway better than watching an ipl ad wer foreigners [including shane warne who confessd he hs slept with more dan 1000 woman] r shown at d back drop of saare jahan se acha..
ipl is just a WTF i-sell-u buy-we make money thing.
some 1 shud sue them 4 using that song.
neither do i have the trophy, nor the runners up..nor is it a damned result.
its like a beautifully timed lofted shot in cricket which sails over the fielder effortlessly, only to land a few yards from the boundary line.
and worse,not cross it.
meanwhile the batsman expected it to be 4 runs wen he hit it, now he can manage only 2 runs.He can't run 3 bcos he thought it would be 4 runs, and didn't run hard enough.
that's the only mistake batsman made.probably.
i don't know really.
at the end its 2 runs.not a 4.but yet 2 runs.but nt yet a 4.
excuse me non-cricketers.
this is my cat story.
i had my result yeserday.on 28th february 2010.
culminating the wait since may25, 2009.
and today morning, march 1, i'm like a little boy searching for his new toy gifted yesterday.little boys always do that first up right, wen they get up, and wen its a new toy?
boy: "mummy this toy doesn't run fast as tinku's 98.56 toy or tomy's 99.99 toy..."
cat mom: "son, let me luk at ther toys.u wait here..."
boy: "mummy why are u walking away?"
The Hindu : National : Police killed villagers, say Gompad witnesses
it just pains to read such articles.
my first instinct was to say "f%$# you PM.f@#! you system".
then i mellowed down, thinking i'm being like a naxal, and this is how they get people show up for recruitment.
then i thought of writing to gurcharan kaur, pm's wife.
then i sort of forgot it all.
its a reality.we r losing our sensitivity.
wen srk and mnik and thakeras r concerned we are on fire.
dear rajdeeps, barkhas,arnabs and the local 24x7's...please.
show some mettle.
atleast that's what is supposed to differentiate between me and you.
or am i giving excuses for my inablilty?
this is one of those moments i felt ashamed to be an indian.
this time i will type india and not India.
are we human?
can we afford to keep dat tag?
its an excess, a luxury with the state of our nation being this.
What is it with autumn that makes me fall in love with it?
it seems i just can't get enough of it!
making me go to extreme lengths like typing...
"Solemn is the grace of her fall
Lady, melancholic is your call"
I have always felt its a season that closely resemble our lives at one point of time.
at 24 i'm not xactly the authority to profess on that.
but that's the reason i like autumn i guess.
it is vulnerable in age like a Ms.World at a paris nite club, yet stubborn n "i've-seen-it-all-dude" in memory and time.
perhaps its the age we all pass out of the school of life, and make important decisions.
Like Ray Gosling did.
I find that we are not God.But at certain occasions He just passes the buck to us.
And we take it, out of commitment, to a life of purpose.not just mere existence.
So isn't it time the laws of the land looked into this and treat it fairplay?
To whom shall we answer?
to the courts or the soul?
a oneliner can probably go lyk ds.
Wide roads, wild autos and wider mouthed junta.
u cnt miss ny of these wen u 1st land up there, especially if u get down at chennai central like i did.on a sunday morning.21st february, dat ws the date of MHCET exam, and chennai ws my nearest centre, a good 600odd kms away frm home.
hopped onto the famed chennai mail frm aluva station by satday evening.but even the news dat my boggy was populated with girls aged nywher between 23-25 [i avidly study reservation charts before boarding everytime due to some inherent advantages present], did nothing to lessen the pain that was my cramped side upper birth.i had to virtually snap myself into 2 to fit in and sleep.even all my preparatns to sleep well [which included less no. of bags n stuff and a workout previous day to get myself sleepy-as i'm a poor sleeper classer]weren't good enuf for my comfort.
i woke up atleast 5 times and once to find that my cell had slipped away from my chinos pocket, but thank God it was that mch crammed up in there that it din't fall down. wedged between me n the crappy sidewall it was quite safe.not that ny1 wud even care to steal a nokia 2006 model with a loose back cover n a keypad resembling an old soiled bumpy mattress with all the letters faded. its actually in the recycle- ur-fone- n -save- planet- ad by nokia.
well saving the planet thing i will leave to superman n kryptonites untill they feel tired.
i hope any climate change activist isn't reading this.not that my blog is actually RSS'd/burned/bookmarked/oversuscribed by some poor soul in south pole or nebraska, but my hunch is not to trust my google analytics freaks at all. They say my blogvisit count hasnt changed in the last 5 months, and still stands at a 7.since june 2008.
excuse me.reading too much of dilbert off late. so where were we?or me?
at 5 am sunday i pop out of my berth like a moron..at early morning u dont want to jump down from an unfamiliar place and land on an young girls berth. u might find dat convenient but certainly not the girl and her neighbours [read family members,impressionable menfolk around if d concerned lady is good looking, ready-to-shriek-anytime-cronies-fellow-girlfriends etc etc...], unless she is one
ms/mrs[choose the salutation u like untill the next syamvar].rakhi sawanth. but she doesnt travel by train these days it seems...
so i climb down like a debutant monkey learning to climb down and head for the loo.it says indian style n western style.there r two options.but the end result is just the same.might be u can differentiate it lyk dis.ther's no water in the indian one..[remember lagaan? 1890's?waiting for rain and water? xactly]..and the western one has a chained cup n working water supply..[these britishers knew xactly how they wanted to hardwire indian railways way back 150 years itself! nw wat cn mamata 'didi' bannerjee do nw na...???]..[i wonder will it change by the time we have our 1st bullet train in 2154ad.i guess only karunakaran n rajnikant wud make it till then to see it and tell their grandrobots.."once upon a time ther ws this thing called s%$#.."]
ok guys i said no water at the 'bharat' option. but i discovered that nly wen i gt in.and i found that others had probably discovered that a bit earlier than me.[probably the guy who ws clutching his stomach near to my seat some hours ago..gee i remember looking at my watch n finding it ws 2.24 am n this guy ws awake..]
i just said " wtf.shit" and got out of "bharat" with my dear life. and the usage of the second mentioned expletive coincided exactly and "literally" with the circumstances of usage for the first time in my whole holy 24 years of existence.
ok lets leave d finer details. i reached central by 7.10am. its a maze of platforms you know.and its exactly like the harry potter boarding station..[forgot the name, kings cross?] at some place... i remember seein platform no.12 smwhere..don't knw if there're more!
appeared huge!than bangalore atleast!
got out quickly by following the crowd.light weighed luggage helped.acted like a secret agent, jason bourne, caliberated my internal gps n found the pre paid auto centre. while in the queue u have all these non-pre paid autowalahs just pestering you to come and get in ther autos.bloody hell they're aggressive!
and WTH they dnt even knw a smattering of hindi/english!
i smhw survived the queue time, and made it in2 an auto.my room ws booked, so hd got rid of dat trouble!and i tendered the xact change of rs.66 [for a 7km journey] to the autoguy [lest he ran away if i gave him a 100 rs note!!!]
these guys were so cute dat it looked as if they were rehabilitated from the erstwhile chambal valley!
they got their horses traded for auto's.only difference.life moved on.
hotel was a decent one. new woodlands, mylapore. if u wudnt mind 1040rs/day rent.
after a smooth check in, the bellboy showed me the tv was in working condition, but the moment he left the plug socket failed.it ws abt 8.15 nw and i hd to leave by 12 for my exam and wanted to charge my phone. so called the electrician..but he took some time coming..
meanwhile i went and had a heavy breakfast.bcos i cudnt afford to hv lunch at noon and sleep at my exam table at 2.30.hd butter dosa n onion uthappam.i felt guilty like a criminal.dosa was 48 and uthappam 55rs. i decided not to plead guilty again and avoided the rs.22 tea..a vegetarian hotel, but non veg pricing!ok food though.and a well preserved ambience like an old time hangout of the 70's.and a lady with accented but good english takes ur order.it was like a breath of fresh air.knowing that u r conversing meaningfully at both the ends!
i just looked around at the crowd..it ws almost full. 2 or 3 foreigners at a corner and rest all were locals.there were 2 old hus-wife pairs..rest were full fledged family breakfast affairs..
the hus-wife pair at my right was quite disappointed at the menu, myt be nt finding the right variety of dosa[they hv abt 108 dosa types here, really,dosas were born here]. the pair upfront were connoisseurs. i mean they were really hungry [i saw them ordering 3,4 times], but they really were dissecting the cooking nuances of each dish, pointing out the shortcoming to the hapless waiter who nodded like hell evrytime and said "aama aama" everytime in a baritone that would put amitabh bachchan in2 shame..Bt he ended up with a 20rs. tip!worth the trouble.
and a just returned-home expat mother ws indianising her 2 little girls to the food here at my left.one of the little girls talking like hermione granger ws saying "mummeey thdeh fooood is ghettin leyit"..i could notice it ws atleast a month since she landed as the brit accent ws slowly wearing off..welcome back!
my waiter ws cocky and arrogant and i paid him back with a next to nothing tip.
went back n had an hours sleep, worked out some problems, and hd some biscuits n started out for exam. had a real brawl with the auto driver, he ws trying to argue n muscle me in for an obscene fare and i just stompd off and managed another auto, bt with jst 10rs less! ws exhaustd and dint want to waste all my mind b4 the exam.
the venue ws opened very late and had to stand and wait for long.ws drenching by d time i sat down.a girl frm kerala sat behind me.some cusat students wer also there.gave a pen 2 a guy who dint hv a black one.exam wet fast.we had a examiner who ws very vocal in his accented tone and attracted a few groans but i found him ok n caring.much better than the going-thru-the-motion type ones back home i have seen.
i guess the cutoff wud soar this time.super humans from mars have infiltrated this seasons' test taking junta.plenty of evidence mind you.check www.pagalguy.com
i ws back at d hotel by 5.45pm.
hd biryani and icecream.it ws hot.might be thats an excuze for the ice cream excess.checked out by 7.30pm.
at the station a malayali hus-pair wife asked me to read out their no. frm the reservation chart as they'd forgotten ther reading glasses.but man they asked to me in tamil!
one day in chennai and i was looking the part already!
and they were mallus.come on fellas, recognise ur brethren!
i gt an upper birth this time.at 10pm i asked the guy below to switch off the light and he glared at me.i gave him a sleepy "come on-cut-the-crap-man" look..
i dnt remember him switching it off, i ws asleep before that.long day out.
and that was chennai.nantri for sparing me from more.
she is d 1 who always asks less, n get lesser.
n whatever God conspires for this rare-taken-for-granted- breed called mothers....i just wish He conspires the best of the lot for my amma...
for all my deeds gone wrong n yet to go wrong....
sorry n loads of love.
happy birthday too.
"congrats buddies. SNAP snub still hurts."
does it catapult you to a whole new world, wer dimensions n boundaries r redrawn n relationships rephrased?