4..Deliverance

Victorious in battle,
we returned home.
As always
A few men less.
The feast was grand,
and beauties divine,
the intoxicants,
straight out of hell.

After a week of revelry,
We settled down,
Spent and satisfied .
But some thing i'd heard,
A "wise" one say,
Had stolen my peace of mind.
I felt compelled,
To sort the matter out,
Or i would never sleep again.
So i sought him out,
asked for an audience,
The pompous inbred swine ...

He greeted me with much ado.
He had to entertain.
For else , I being Baphomet's own,
He would lose his head
In the bargain .
With the rituals done,
And wine inside ,
He asked me to begin.
But when i asked him,
what his words had meant,
he lightly brushed me aside.

"I was drunk " he lied.
And last, weak strand,
Of my patience snapped.
"Don't lie "I roared,
As i lifted him by his throat
clear off the floor.
He felt the blade at his neck
And wrath throbbing in my arms
And the words began to flow.

You were sacrificed.
On the battle ground.
The word came from
Lucifer himself.
The war was won that time,
Though was the battle lost then.

The ground seemed to slip
From beneath my feet,
As it dawned upon me,
I had been used
To meet a trivial end.
The dastardliness of the act,
Brought my blood to a boil .
I thought and pondered,
But there was nothing,
That i could tell myself,
So it all seemed justified .

It was over i decided,
No more me for Him.
I would leave this land,
Live my other life once again.
And as as i reached a portal
I heard his voice
"And where is it we are going ?"
As i told him that i knew it all,
That his vile plan,
Had been revealed.
The unrepentent evil
Of his revolting smile,
Never ceased to drive
Me to chagrin.

At length he spoke
With no emotion
Nothing short of pride.
"Well at least now
You are certainly aware
That you're entitled to no goodbyes
I'm your lord and master
You're mine to use as i wish
mine to discard when i like "

With the veil of love
Shattered and gone
I could see clearly .
All the fraudulent praise
And the glamour days
Oh what a bloody fool
I had been .

But then i saw it
My last chance at deliverance,
From the loathsome
Hands of this fiend .
I bid him good bye with a smile
And for the first time,
Since his creation
The malice and pride in his face
Were replaced by confusion.
I uttered a curse,
Which to his dismay,
Was directed not at him but me.

As my body burst into flames
And metal shackles
closed around my throat
I uttered my last words
"Go to hell."
And I watched with satisfaction,
As the ethereal flames,
Consumed my body,
Down to every last detail.

He fell to his knees,
In accepted defeat,
He owned the body,
But not the soul.

Budget airlines - scam or sham?

Not to sound 'down market', but as a child, I clearly remember being thrilled about every flight. It was not just about getting somewhere in a hurry. In fact, the longer the flight the better. Every bit of it, the take off, the turbulence and the landings were thrilling. The in-flight meals were a delight. The air hostesses, though a little older and heavier, were thorough professionals.

There were always delays, but once upon a time, they didn't just say that they regret the inconvenience caused. They showed you that they were sorry, maybe even cared. They felt the need to make it up to you - compensatory meals and hotel stays were common. You didn't need to be the Queen of England to be able to carry a decent amount of baggage.

The feel of good service extended to the airports. Thin crowds, an inkling of more than mundane purpose, an air of exclusivity even, accentuated by crisp, polished and cheerful announcements, an abundance of trolleys and polite airline and airport staff defined an airport.

Train journeys didn't really make the cut.

Then someone had a vision (rather myopic in my opinion). Everyone must have access to air travel. The airlines must make money on passenger volumes on wafer thin margins. The number of players must increase. The airlines should break even, nay make a profit. After all with the entire populace of this enormous nation in the air (a bone chilling thought to start with) and paying for it, what could prevent
the airlines from booking profits?

Following closely on the heels of the vision, came the implementation. An airspace with two primary operators suddenly had a dozen. We now needed staff to handle the increased volume of work. Schools to train airport staff, air stewards and air hostesses opened up in every
four foot by four foot space available in the city (that this created a class of relatively illiterate people with a river of liquid cash is another story).Highways choked and died carrying people to the airports because now every one could fly.

Got an urgent meeting across the country? No problem! Take a flight (point to be noted, you always could). Squeeze more fun into your holidays by reducing the travel time - take a
flight. This was relatively new. Family function? Fly there. Just bored? Take a flight. Drives are so last year. It was fun for a bit. Till we realized everyone still couldn't afford to fly. And the air lines were still in the red. And we couldn't fix
our infrastructure fast enough (surprise?). And now every thing was a mess.

The airports look like our ST bus stops (though thankfully cleaner). Find an empty trolley, with functioning wheels and brakes (needle in a
hay stack). Queue up to get your baggage scanned. Queue up to check in. Deal with overworked disgruntled airline staff, whose only skill is to tell you in an unnecessary, phony accent that they're sorry, and that's about all they're capable of doing to help the situation. And that is when they're feeling polite. Passengers (now also called guests) are routinely asked to 'kindly' step out of the queue because a trivial issue prevents them from being checked in within the next thirty
seconds.

Flights still get delayed, but now unless you have a 4 hour delay, admitted upfront (which is a rarity, since ETDs are pushed ahead 10 minutes at a time) you can't really hope for compensation or even a meal. At least the airports can stay in business by selling refreshments at astronomical rates. Ever notice the hundred rupee samosa at the airport tastes slightly worse than the four rupee samosa on the footpath? The announcements made by hurried attendants are vying with the railway stations for the 'least clarity and correctness of language' award at the transport hall of shame.

Once on board you scurry to find place for your luggage, which may or may not be available, since the single piece of luggage rule is as pliable as putty.

The Air Hostesses run through the safety instructions charade and are ever so often confused about the name of the destination (I'm sure giving a lot of grannies heart attacks, because they seldom correct themselves).

The seats. Where does one even begin? It'll suffice to say, do I really need to buy first class seats (if and when they're available) to find a place to put my elbows and stretch out my legs and not smell the under arm sweat of a fellow passenger?

The food not being covered by the fare is alright because not every one is hungry or capable of eating on a flight. But when one does choose to buy 'in flight refreshment' does it really have to be clammy and cold? Does the chicken have to taste like rubber and the cucumbers like snot and the coffee like dish wash?
Do I really need to help gather the trash afterwards?

I understand that the vast majority of Indians lack basic toilet training and etiquette, but isn't that something you need to factor in when staffing your air craft so the 'guests' don't need to find out what the guest who used the toilet before them had ordered for lunch?

On a good day, when you move like a ninja through the river of crap, there is still nothing you can do to prevent them from destroying a piece of baggage. Rip it up, ruin the stroller, smash in a corner, or just let it show up open, so your never sure if someone has been through your things. Even if you have one bag ruined every couple of trips, the cost is more than the full fare of the flight. Gone are the days when they used to accept responsibility for manhandling your baggage, and replace or repair bags if they ruined them.

The list is never ending. Luckily international flights still retain some of their earlier glory. But it's no wonder that trains seem to be a more appealing mode of transport nowadays...

Good Old Days

Minute after minute
Day upon day
I sit, I reminisce
About the beauty
The simple joys
Of yesterday

long walks on the beach
The shared street food, yes please
Crazy Saturday nights
Lazy Sunday afternoons,  at least

You hold the bucket 

of memories
Always, it's heavier than before

It's true what they say, my dear

You age in experiences
Not in years!

The yesterday
And the tomorrow
Hold so much allure
We forget to live
Right now
Delegate the living
Some more 

like all of life's little truths
It's so simple, it is scary

We tried to look at it

Every which way

But Today, right now
is the tomorrow's
good old days

Hazardous to health

It's toxic
Carcinogenic
Inviting death
With every breath

Alcohol
And cigarettes
And the occasional
Shot of meth

You're missing the point
I assure you
You're missing
the biggest component

What I'm saying is,
(You know it's true)
Don't you belive me?
Life is hazardous to health.

Life is hazardous to health

It's stressful
Blocks your arteries
The artificial sweetner
In all the smiles

A migraine
An exploding liver
From putting up
With all the stupid swine

That's where it takes root
Digs in its nails
(Puts a) Stake through your heart
And your little dreams

You know it's true
What I'm saying to you
It's independent of your wealth
At the end of the day
It's life that's hazardous to health

Life is hazardous to health.

Jaipur

Well I remember I've said I'll not post a rant. But this is an article I've promised many people. So here goes. 

Well it all started with our move to Jaipur in August the year before last. Quaint little town. Tiny little empty airport. Welcome break from Mumbai, I think to myself. So I collect our bags and head out. We are instantly the object of numerous stares. Not the fleeting glance of a Mumbai passerby. Not the nosey sideways glance of the disapproving Punekar. Not the lingering glance of the curious Punjabi. Two points of difference, the people in the mentioned examples go on with their lives whilst stealing glances, and they acknowledge your right to privacy by looking away when they notice you've noticed. Not in Jaipur. People drop their chores. Fold their hands. And stare. Not check out, not glance, but stare. And what I'd done to deserve their undivided attention, was that I was wearing a ponytail and shorts. And my wife, well she's a woman. That seems to be enough for people to drop every thing they're doing and stare, and continue to stare.

The drive to the hotel from the airport is uneventful. So we notice the roads. Wide and clean. Sparsely populated with cars. But the cars ensure they zigzag enough to occupy the entire road. Leaving place of course for the nut jobs driving down the wrong side in the fast lane.  They seemed to all have been taught by the same teacher - speed all you can, and brake just in time to avoid hitting the car in front of you. Come potholes or speed breakers, slowing down is for suckers, and traffic rules are for losers. I've seen a total of 10 traffic police men in 9 months, and 6 of them were standing together... So a total of 5 occasions. In 9 months. Without a single day spent completely at home.

I'll skip over the hotel stay period and move straight to the house. 

The broker was the first example of the service industry we came across. Once the cat is in the bag, suddenly time loses meaning. 10 minutes could mean any thing from 3 to 24 hours depending on the 'direness' of the consequences of tardiness I promise over the phone. This rule extends to every service, plumbers, electricians, carpenters, taxis etc. save the notable exceptions of the bsnl people and the lpg agent. Weird. Moving on to the settled life. The water is this odd toxic waste which makes you want to throw up unless its chilled below 4 degrees. We haven't grown used to it in 18 months. Also the water neither washes soap nor conditioner off your body or hair.

The house numbers seem to have been marked by someone on an acid trip. Haphazard would be an understatement. It takes me 10 minutes everyday without exception to explain the location of my house to my cab driver. And finding the houses of the other people to be picked up never gets any easier.
The houses themselves are built with an fsi of about 4.5. The architecture , with a few exceptions, is like the person bought a plot of land, built a wall around it, and threw in all the bricks and cement, hoping for the best. Why pay an architect? We can manage. The result is the worst optimization of space I've seen in my life. The houses all have 2 walls common with neighbors on either side. I shudder to think what would happen in case of fire, and how easy it would be for a burglar to get around house to house via the connected terraces.

Come weekend, the first two can be spent handicraft shopping. Then what ? There are a total of two malls worth the name, and unless you're a foodie, there is nothing to do in this so called city. And if you are a foodie there is nothing to do two weeks after you get here.

I realized its a rich, cash driven city, not because I saw any sign of opulence, but because the shops are open and shopping goes on in spite of  all the 7 atms in the vicinity being either out of order or cash. And this was not a one time occurrence.

Jaipur was the first time I had to bag my own groceries at a super market. I was in shock. And the bag was a carton. Here in Jaipur, the ban on plastics is just another way to make a quick buck.

The liquor stores close at 8. What? Seriously? I can never ever find a store open on  a  weekday cause I get off work at 8 30. Who drinks before 8 on a weekday?

Try and get into an auto rickshaw without getting swindled. Not happening. The meter is a mere ornament. All fares are negotiated. On whim. 10 km might cost you a hundred, and 11 might cost fifty more. Night fares apply as soon as the sun goes down. True cave men these.

What can I say about the doctors. 4 different places including fortis hospital, the case history is a formality. They make one, but never look at it again. I believe any decision made with an inadequate case history is questionable at best. You may argue that Jaipur is pretty hale and hearty, I say no thanks to the doctors.

While one would come across the odd misspelled board on a shop in Mumbai, its almost the rule here.  

The 'pink' in the pink city is mostly a dirty orange. And it is pretty wide spread. Why a flyover, for example , needs to be that hideous colour is beyond me..

All said and done, its a nice quaint little hole, good maybe for a 3 day visit if you're staying in one of the claimed 5 star properties. Any longer and it just plain sucks.

Little pink line

My life's work it seems is just a number on my screen.

A rather pleasureless result, this lonely little pile of green.

Forever running like a poor hamster stuck within it's wheel.

I can't understand why they say nothing's what it may seem

Work refuses to leave my head though I called it a day.

Happiness forever gone to sleep no matter what I say

The music is gone the painting is dead
The poetry is no more

The pointlessness of the whole charade  makes my head want to explode

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Every dream I ever dreamed seems cursed to mean nothing anymore

Every single breath I take feels like a very expensive loan

I sigh and grieve as I look at the house that could never be a home

Alcohol's once heavenly stupor holds less charm evermore

The desire to stay this course gets weaker by the day

The faint light at the end of the tunnel seems to fade further away

And for some weird but pertinent reason, I don't even care.

The laughs are hollow the smiles are fake even the tears aren't genuine anymore

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Against all odds the littlest thing
Brings joy back to the day
A little pink line on a plastic strip
Just takes my breath away

Chorus

It's real funny how happiness
Always hides in plain sight
And all it takes
Is an accident or a happy eye.

Dawn

Something's very wrong.
Something's just not the same.
Trying not to think of it,
Won't make it go away.
It would all be okay,
If i could just for once,
Put my finger on it .

Every one's happy.
Every one is sane.
Every thing is better,
Than i've ever known
It to have been.
Is that it?
Is it all too good?
to be part of my
miserable being?

Life is not a struggle.
I just reach out
And grab what i want.
I have it all,
All the money and fame
Will someone, anyone
Pray tell me
Why it all feels so strange??

A single though
Circumvents my head
"Get out!" it screams.
"get the hell out of here!!"
But another thought
I then notice
Get out, and go where ?
Something's got to give
This dream or my head.

Suddenly it all makes sense.
A dream it is
And i'm not bound in.
Buoyed by this realization
To the surface I float.
Consciousness swiftly
Replacing the cloud in my head.

From one hell to another
I come falling through.
Now i'm pinned down
Stuck fast to my bed.
This beast i can't see
Trying to enter my chest.
I call out to my maker
Struggling to keep control
Lest I lose my body,
my mind or my soul .

As sanity threatens
To desert my mind.
It looks like my soul will go
Somewhere no one can find.
I find my voice
A scream breaks loose.
I'm finally awake.
Breathing in short gasps.
Sweat soaks my hair.

The ordeal is over.
But the fear is not gone.
I wonder why,
Then the truth strikes home
Its cold, its dark and I'm alone
And it's a full nine hours
Untill the break of dawn.