LOVE IS BLIND

I saw it!!! They were walking down the street, holding hands. Then they stopped at the corner before his college and kissed!!! I swear!!! I saw it!!!

It’s difficult to have a love life with a little sis in the house. But the scenario was a lot different and the heat was quickly spreading. Now the whole family was around the siblings. Mom, Dad, Gramps and the worst part was, Mom had called in her sis to help her “morally”. Aunt was definitely not the sign of peace or truce. She was Mom’s conscience. She filled in whenever Mom lacked the courage to whack the siblings, and this was not rare.

Dad : Is what she saying, true? Do you realize this is not the simplest of issues?

Mom : We never should have shifted to America. We’ve spoilt our children raw!!! (Sob!!! Sob!!!)

Sis : I don’t kiss any one!!! I don’t even kiss Dad!!! Am I a good child?

Bro : Yeah, a good brat!!!

Dad : It’d not funny! You shame me! And Mom, who asked you to call the entire family in here? I am sure this is not something I want the entire world knowing. (turning to Aunt), get Kanchana out of here. I don't want her tainted by whats going on in here!

Aunt : I am only here to support her through all this! This is most shocking, even for me! So if you don’t like me here, put up with it! (She’s now holding Mom through her wheezing sobs).

Dad : Son, I asked you a question. Are you denying it? You can! It’ll save me a lot of face.

Mom : Please tell me it never happened and I’ll only be glad.

Sis : I promise! I saw them at it! Beli…

She was cut in by the harsh sobs of Mom and the ferocious glare in Dad’s eye. She is saved by Aunt, who ushers her into the bedroom and secures the door behind her.

Dad : So. I assume you don’t deny it!

Bro : Well, I guess there is nothing for me to say in this! What do you want me to say?

Shock!!! Mom stops sobbing, as if hell froze over! Dad was simply stumped. Aunt was smiling at the failure Bro had turned out to be. Her son will now be the pride of Gramps eye. But it was most unfortunate that gramps was almost completely deaf to hear what was going on. Gramps was also disoriented and completely disconnected from what was happening.

Dad : You worthless brat!!! How did you even get the guts to do such a thing?

Bro : Kissing someone is not like killing someone. I am not ashamed! I am actually in love! We are even planning to marry! We won’t let anyone het between the two of us!

Mom is now positively shrieking and Aunt is glaring at Bro. Dad swings at Bro and catches him right in the face. Gramps, who was, until now, unaware of the plot around which people were reacting, looks up at the enraged father-son duo and mildly approaches,

Gramps : No matter what he’s done, its never a reason to hit him. Love heals everything. Talk through all this and I am sure you will all come to a smooth conclusion.

Bro : Exactly my thoughts!!!

Dad shoots a hot glare at gramps and then returns his bloodshot eyes to his son.

Bro : Like I said, we are in love and we want to get married.

Mom : How can this be? It is not in our culture to do this? Are they at least Hindus?

Dad : Are you insane? You talk like you don’t mind him getting married!

Bro, decisively ignoring Dad’s comments : Ma, they are not only Hindus, they are also Iyengars. Just like us, Vadakalai.

Dad : Oh, shut up you brat! No one is asking for you to open your mouth.

Gramps : Its too late now, Kesava. It will be easier for us to marry the two of them off. And they are Iyengars too. It won’t cause a lot of issues in the family and we can adjust. Please call the parents and talk to them.

Dad : Appa, please!!!! You don’t understand the situation. I am not going to tolerate this. Please!!!

Mom : If this is the only way my son is going to be happy, I don’t mind it.

Dad : Oh, shut up!!!

Gramps : Kesava, call up the parents and talk to them and then we will all decide together.

Dad : Appa, understand Pa. How can I talk to them? What will I tell them? “I am the father of Sudharshan. I have come to ask the hand of your son, Raman, in marriage to my son”. Imagine the shame!!!

Gramps (a little confused) : What did you say????

Aunt (he lips curling in a vicious smile) : Sudharshan wants to marry a boy!

Dad turns away and mom starts a fresh bout of crying. Gramps was clearly shocked and there was a distant look that had creped into his eye. Dad was now positively shocked. He did not know which was worse! His son wanting to marry another boy, or his father slowly transcending into a state of shock.

Dad : Get out of my sight you lousy brat. Look at what you’ve done! At least call 911.

Gramps (managing to breathe a few words out) : Please don’t shout at him. At least it’s an Iyengar boy. Talk to the boy’s family and try convincing them that Sudharshan will be the one tying the Maangalyam.

Sis (peering from an open window) : Does this mean I am getting a Priamma?

Aunt : No. You are getting a Periappa.

Dad : Oh shut up, all of you! What is happening here, I cannot allow a boy to enter my home as my daughter-in-law.

Aunt : Well, he can even be your Son-in-law. Its really up to you to decide. (She was clearly enjoying this).

Gramps : Kesava, don't let them talk you into being the bride's father. Show them what you are made of, or else we will have to pay for the wedding! But remember, if necessary, Sudharshan can have all of Padhmini's jewelery. She wanted her Grandson's wife to have them, but under these circumstances, she would have been more than happy to see her Grandson, himself, wear them.

Dad : Oh please, everyone quiet down. I give up!

DOES IT COME IN THE BLOOD?

How do you manage to do it??? You are definitely not normal...How do you manage to convince so many people that you are an innocent Iyengar boy???

People refer to my unwarranted, irrational decisions that usually sets me apart from the blanket term "normal". I shrug at their responses with "I am just spontaneous!!!". I am sure they don't buy it. The main cause for their worry is how free I am with what I do. And how little constrains I lead my life with. My family (except for my parents who have given up on me) can't believe I have the guts to ride my bike alone on several occasions, on treacherously long rides. It has been my passion to ride bikes at top speeds and the open roads are always inviting. I love the way my baggy pants flop around in the gushing winds and how the wind feels in my hair. Its amazing!!!! It took me 20 minutes to decide I was not going to take the train or the bus to my native. I took off on my bike after work.

How dare you??? We trusted you!!! You scare us with whatever you do!!!! Your mother was dead with fear for you!!!! Why did you not inform her??? Is one phone call too much to ask???

You would think my dad was taking out his frustration, but this was my aunt speaking her mind out in my face while the entire family was assembled around me, ogling at the feat I had just accomplished. Through all this, my mother stood meekly at the back, unable to give up on her son and unable to stand what the others were putting him through. However, all that my dad had to say was, how were the roads???

I recently took a fall on my bike and had my back stitched at 6 places. I had don a good job of keeping it a complete secret from everyone I knew. Except of course my parents. My dad had to say I was running temperature, to come from Chennai, to help me from the hospital. Well, when I had to take off my shirt to get my head shaved at Tirupathi, I left a scar on the person my family thought I was.

You think you are so smart!!!! I told you a bullet is no bike for you!!! You never listen!!! Is there someone you respect enough to obey??? I am so sorry for your wife!!!

I had to remind my aunt I was not yet married. I managed to calm her down saying this was from making fun of my mother. SMART!!!

Then there is the ever changing hair style. I am not even sure what style I am following. There is one comment I am now dying from. Vechha kudumi, saracha mottai.

I've always wondered who I took after in all this... I was wondering until today...

I JUST thought of this... We leave late tonight, reach Guruvayoor n the early morning and return by afternoon tomorrow, giving you enough time to rest. Can you ride the bullet through the trip???

My dad announced his plans to ride on my bike all the way to Guruvayoor and back, 10 minutes from landing in Coimbatore.

Now I have someone to blame for all that's not normal in me!!! Thanks pa...

WHY???

The silence of the night was tormenting. The pitch black sky, the moon struggling to show its presence from behind the thickness of the clouds. The house was breathing hot air down the neck. Sleep was torture. The fan was doing its best to bring the cool of the outside past the unnaturally stifling, irritating warmth of the walls, failing miserably. The occasional feel of the air moved onto the sweating skin was soothingly cool. The recently shaved head was radiating enough heat to bake breads. The short and spiky hair growth was annoyingly getting stuck to the pillow like Velcro. The open window was serving the only purpose of removing any last remnants of privacy that the room seemed to offer. His sleep was so disturbed he w able to recognize every strike of the bell in the church across the street. The biting ants were soothing company.

Lack of sleep can be very tiresome. Feet drag, shoulders sag and heads droop at any time possible.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING THERE? DO YOU THINK WE TOLERATE INEFFICIENCIES LIKE YOU?"

A meek response, "I am sorry you feel that way sir, but I did all I could. I got both the department's managers to deal with the issue at the same table. They decided. I did not. The failure is not mine."

"JUSTIFICATIONS!!!! I HAVE OPERATORS WHO WORK BETTER THAN YOU!!!! I CAN MANAGE THE SHOW WITH OUT YOU!!!! ALL I ASKED YOU TO DO WAS GET THE COMPONENTS READY FOR ASSEMBLY. IF YOU CANT DELIVER, I DON'T NEED YOU!!!!".

Another meek response, "Sir, the tool is not ready. I have done all that I can to make sure the concerned people are aware of the critical nature of the situation. The issue is being looked into. I am not responsible for the delay."

"DO YOU THINK I CAN TOLERATE YOUR IDIOCY? YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE. I WILL ONLY HOLD YOU RESPONSIBLE. YOU SHOULD HAVE GOT THEM TO COMPLETE THE JOB. YOU SHOULD HAVE PUSHED THEM!!!".

A sigh...unmindful of the spit the flew from the enraged mouth.
There is no point is fighting back. Give in....Give up!!!! Its useless... You can run, but you cannot hide.
Hide... My skin has turned into hide from all that I have put up with...There's no point in fighting anymore...Please Quit!!!its for your own good. Do not waste your time proving your innocence...Its no big deal. You still have your bullet to rely on.
Man wind in my hair, tearing down the neighborhood, the beat of my bullet resonating through the empty streets of the night. Head lights glaring, speeds nearing 60...Living the biker's life... Aerosmith rocking in the background...Aahaaa Aahaaa...Dude looks like a lady...

"WHERE IS YOUR SENSE OF URGENCY? WASTING YOUR TIME DOING NOTHING WHEN THERE IS A BURNING SITUATION IN THE COMPANY!!!!"

Man where does this guy come from??? Get him off me!!!

Phone blaring in the background...

A startle...Wah???When???Who???

Ahhhh!!!Screw this!!!!!!Why do I have to have nightmares of my work when I face the same thing each day???

Its still 3.30 man...get back to bed...Julia Roberts...My Bullet...Now that's a dream!!!!!

"THE CUSTOMER IS WAITING FOR YOUR RESPONSE!!!! WHY DOES IT TAKE 10 MINUTES TO DRAFT A MAIL???"

AWWWW...God save me!!!

THE RIVER IN PAIN

Like most of my posts claim, I am an avid biker. I ride for the thrill of it. I ride while I still can. My latest conquest was my trip down to my native. I was born in a village called Mannargudi, an hour's drive from Thanjavur. It was our annual Sadhas. This when we have every possible pandit associated with our annual sadhas, meet up in our village. We host the show and cover every one's expenses and livelihood for a span of 3 days. It's an event to behold. I've never missed it in the past couple of years. This time was special. I had company. Usually its a bunch of octogenarians trying to pass for middle-aged men completely in control of the situation. This time, I was going to help them out. i was going to help them keep their wits. My plan, surprise my thatha and his siblings with my latest conquest. I decided to ride down to Mannargudi. A mere 300 km one way. I now have a 600 km trip under my belt. But lets not completely stray from the title. This blog is dedicated to the cause my Thatha is married to (apart from my patti). This is about what I realized I have been missing through all these trips to Mannargudi. Thnajavur and its surrounding villages constitute the delta region. The triangular reigon of land where the river Cauery deposits all its rich alluvial soil before uniting with the sea at Nagapattinam. The whole belt is considered to be the best suited region for paddy cultivation. The reasons being

1. The abundant water that the Cauvery brings
2. The copious rains during the South-west monsoon
3. The strength of the uninhibited sun
4. Soil so rich, it is rumored to revive a dead plant

But the truth is, the whole livelihood of the delta region is completely dependent on the river. the sun is more a nuisance than a support. And the rains are almost always the cause for the farmer's misery. There is almost nothing there for a farmer to do in the delta when there is no water. Droughts hit them hard. Floods never drown their miseries. They are often and they just drown the crops. The water is the farmer's life and it it is his death. A field if either not irrigated at the right time, or over irrigated at any point of time, will have irrevocable damage on both the crops and the farmer.

The river is the backbone of the entire belt - the soil for all the nutrients and water for irrigation. The Cauvery happens to flow through Karnataka where the flow of the river is interrupted at 12 places with "anicuts" or dams (damns) for irrigation.

Now back to my ride. My route was probably the most picturesque. The moment I leave Karur, I am greeted by the vast expanse of the "Ahanda"(Wide) Cauvery near Petavaithalai. All the way from Karur to Trichy, the Cauvery guides me. If I can't see her from beyond all the greenery she has helped sprout, I can hear her flow through a series of twists and turns and cascades. She is a wonder. The scene is wonderful, but I can't enjoy it. My senses are high on the watch for the million lorries that ply down that way. For a road that small and a city that that does not do a lot of construction, there is an awful lot of lorry traffic. At one point of time, just before Trichy, I had counted 259 lorries. I had crossed each one of them with the ease of a heart surgeon at work. I felt they kicked up a lot of dirt. I was confused. The road certainly did not have so much dirt. But half way to Trichy, I had enough dirt on me to make me feel 10 kilos heavier.

As most of us are aware, there is a long term tiff between Tamilnadu and Karnataka over the "sharing" of the Cauvery water. Karnataka wants the water for its own "purposes". Tamilnadu needs the water to save the livelihood of over 40,00,000 people, who are completely dependent on Cauvery. Water from the Cauvery is what will keep them from committing suicide. This is how important the river is to the people in the delta.

When I shook the dirt off me, I realized it was not dirt. It was sand. Sand from the bed of the river. The 259 lorries I had counted were looting the sand from the river bed for "corporate constructions". This is a large scale commercial scam that "legally" allows a license holder to extract a specified quantity of sand from the river for "construction". What these people so "legally" avoid is that from Karnataka to about a few miles before the sand quarry, the river bed is, for example, 5 feet from the road level. In the sand quarry region, for a stretch of at least 30 kilometers, the river bed is, again for example, 15 feet from the road-the bed has been robbed of the soil the river brings with it. Again, beyond the quarry, the level of the bed rises. A deep turf has been caved on the river bed. Water that is released from Karnataka has to reach the delta in time for irrigation. If the water is released 2 days in advance, it takes 4 days for the water to reach the delta as it collects in the hole the moles have dug. The water that is logged in the dug out trench is lost for ever. It is stagnant and evaporates. There is so much that can be done with a little water in the delta.

The lorries take turns in getting filled with the sand from the bed. I counted 6 lorries on the river bed. This was the tail that was visible outside the thick growth of coconut trees that hid the rest of the lorries from view. Some lorries lay wait for a minimum of a fortnight in queue for their chance to dig the grave for the next farmer's family. The demand for sand is so. This is all but a large scale commercial scam. If you hear any politician promising the farmers anything, remember, there is nothing but a scam in everything they promise. We do not have an enemy outside the state. It takes close to 100 years for a boulder to become cultivable soil. We now remove it in less than 15 minutes. When there is not enough sand depth, water does not percolate into the underground rivers. Ground water level does not improve. No more water for irrigation when the Cauvery is dry.

Help the farmers...Support their cause...Oppose sand quarrying...Oppose politicians who know nothing beyond their stomachs!!!!! GOD SAVE THE WORLD!!!!!!!!!

MIS LED

I used to have hair that rivaled my mother's. My hair was so long I was always mistaken for a hot girl from the back and a scary mule from the front. Well, that was just to kick the fact in that my hair was longer than all boys in college, and for that fact, most girls too. I took real great care it. Washed it each day. Combed it clean back so that none of it fell into my eyes when I rode my bike. I was passionate. Long hair meant huge problems. Trouble for my parents. My dad was always afraid to show me in public, mostly because I told everyone I was growing my hair coz I was soon going to inherit my father's crisis. My mother was afraid to show her friends my room. My room was worse than a barber's shop. Hair fell like crazy. I was loosing hair by the second. My mother would sweep the house once every two days and sweep my room every two hours. My dad hated my hair for the fact that if I forgot to close the door to my room, it would look like the food had grown hair. And the wind never helped the situation. That was how bad my hair fall situation was.

This was in college. I kept my hair until I finished college. Then there was the second phase of my like that required me to be "groomed". My mother saw to it that my hair was gone. I was no longer allowed to wear jeans. My privilege to be wild was gone. I was to be tamed to fit into the society. to follow the line like every one else did. But the fact was that I could not get my job with cargo pants with 15 pockets, baggy T-shirts with bleeding sculls on them and specially no shoulder length hair. Well, I was glad my hair fall situation was going to fall dramatically with the shorter hair. I obliged. I cut my hair so low that I swear I could see my brains when I looked closer. I saw a silver lining in the clouds. I looked positive and I got my job. Now I was looking for my hair fall situation to tame. Well, it was just like me. It seemed to be taming on the outside. But, soon, my room was covered with hair as small as my nasal hair. I realized the Scofield hair do was not helping the situation. I took to chemical solutions. I bought myself a top-brand "serum" aimed at strengthening the roots of my hair. I wasn't sure whether I bought it for the reasons they gave for why their product was 5x better or for the girl on the bottle. It did not occur to me that the brand left out the benchmark for their improvement. 5x better than what???Competitors???more likely, 5x better than plain water!!!!

Anyway, I was now a faithful customer of one of the top brands in the Hair-Care industry. I stuck to the product for over 6 months. I was giving the product time to get accustomed to the filth my hair goes thro'. Six months, there is more hair on my towel than there is in my beard or my mustache. Hair fall is the same as it used to be in the day. But now my hair was 5x shorter than it used to be and the fall should have been at least 2x lesser. Man, i was getting frustrated. Sometimes I felt I was loosing more hair than before. I was difficult to comprehend the situation. I could not fathom how or why this was happening. It was a mystery. I did not have enough time. I was soon going to share my father's hair style. Well, with the hair he has left, there not much style left ether and the thought was giving me the creeps. I had to solve the problem at the earliest. If a product that is proven to be 5x better (I still do not know better than what) has not helped save a single hair, I was not sure what options I had left. I decided to take the matter up with the hair-care company.

My hair is now at least 5x times shorter than the last time I called you. How come my hair fall is no lesser??? Have you been putting me through a wild goose chase??? D you have an answer???

Sir. Are you using our Hair-care product???

Well, is that not obvious why I called you??

Have you been following the instructions on the back of the product???

Shit!!!!Who the hell knew there were instructions on how to apply shampoo on your hair. I told her I was getting another call and I went to read the instructions better (for the first time). This is when I noticed something in small green letters on the green bottle, below the huge name of the company. Since I read it, Ive changed my brand. What I read made me realise how naive' we all are. The bottle had 3 words that made it clear to me that these people were 5x better at advertising. It read

" *********
5x BETTER

revitalizing serum that
helps hair fall"
Now does it mean they help hair in falling or help hair from falling???? I called the people again to find out. Well, there is no point in calling someone who slams the phone down on you.

Now-a-days, I've made it a point to read every line on a product before I buy them.

WHEN TRUE COLORS REVEAL

A week had passed. I can't say how bad a shape I am in now. I've been folded, smoothed out, roughed and ultimately used like there is no tomorrow. I have two friends who don't have as much work as I have, but are just as worked out as I am. They work under me. All they do is stand on the Heel till they are relieved.We never work together. They never see light during the day unless its completely unavoidable. I, on the other hand, keep moving in and out. I am drenched every now and then. Work is never too little for me. Its even harder when there is an out break of flu. Well, as luck usually has it, it was the hottest week ever and there was a running nose around every corner, meaning, work was twice as difficult, twice as gruesome. I never falter. I have a heart the size of this universe, though my body might not seem so. I trudged on through the week. There is no saying how bad things can get when the heat makes every pore on the skin to reeks out with so much sweat that you have to drink more water just to sweat more. But throw in a nose that leaks like a cracked dam, you have the perfect recipe for a social reject. That's how this week made me feel. The dust on the roads seemed to have no where to go. They seemed magically attracted by the sweat. Well, just adds to the glory of the reject. By mid week, after perhaps million swipes or so at the filthy sweat, I realized I was slowly loosing my color. It was not happy. The flu was going no where. Alternate swipes at the sweat and the goo just made me feel worse. I was loosing track of my duties. My friends were not doing so well themselves. You can't blame them. They had the worst place of work ever. The only time they were allowed to see the out side was when the day was over, sometimes at 10 and sometimes even at 12 in the night. We had started out fair at the beginning of the week and now I was slowly turning into a color that was a mixture of Dark Grey (sweat + Dust), Light Grey (from the nasal GOO) and a strange shade of Yellow (only God knows from where). I can't even imagine what my friends looked like. They sure were not happy. The made sure they announced their agony with all the foulness in the world. It was luckily a Sunday tomorrow, no need to worry about the sweat, the goo or the _oo. It was going to be over anytime now. I can breathe easy now on. I was not going to hide my joy. I was certainly doing a good job of showing off my true color of White and Pale Blue as I lay there, basking in the sun with my friends by my side. Clearly we had to have turned a lot of heads through the week, to have been washed at 12 in the night.

A BUNDLE OF JOY

'Are you cold?', the father asked his son, after putting his son in the bus that was taking us to Madras. The kid looked like he had grown up in a hurry. He was slightly taller than I was (well, my hair tickled his chin when I stood up to let him in). He looked at least a couple of months from puberty. Every thing about him oozed out shyness. Even his facial hair. He refused to see anyone in the eye.
He responded to the bald mans question with a grim nod (the bus was artificially converted into a mobile freezer box). The man, with a clear sign of concern on his face, literally ran out of the bus to the car he had parked diagonally in front of the bus, concerned they might leave the hulk of his son, behind. He returned, panting and gripping a silvery shawl to protect the kid from freezing over. He slowly started to stretch the huge frame of his son across 2 seats, making sure he was as comfortable as can get. All this was happening while the rest of us were glowering at the duo. The bus had started 1 hour late, waiting for these buggers. We had managed to convince the driver into rolling the bus out of the city and into the bypass, and now here we were again, stopped in our tracks by a mad man who chased our bus and parked his car in front of us, and was now pampering a big boned teenager.
'OYE DRIVER!!!!', he had the audacity to scream, from inside the sound proof seating area of the bus, to the driver who sat on the other side of the flexi. Seeing that his voice did not manage to pierce thro' the 6" thick glass, he smartly started ramming the back of his hand on the glass till the TV behind the glass stated to wobble in protest. He did not stop till the driver and cleaner, afraid the TV might fall on their heads, ran into the seating area for cover. 'Yena???Unga vandila porvai tharamatieengala???Nanga konduvandhutom, paavam, mathavanga enna pannuvaanga???',(in a politer tone, Don't you people have blankets for your passengers? I brought one, what about the rest of them there) he rambled, shaking his head in the direction of where I lay, clearly shivering. He was protesting, in our support, or so it seemed, until he snatched 2 more shawls from the cleaner's cabinet, picking the best there were. 'Intha saamii', (here you go sir) he said, laying one shawl after another on the prostrate frame of the kid. Tucking him with all possible care. He was taking his sweet ass time in making sure every inch of the boy's outgrown skin was covered. When he was done, after a nerve rattling 15 minutes of our time, he was satisfied with himself. He had left a small opening for his son to see him leave and another small vent for a stray molecule of oxygen to pass through to the mummy's nostrils. When he was ready to leave, the mummy managed to wiggle a couple of fingers form under the sheaths of silk, to make the bald devil leak from the eyes. I was convinced he was only crying for fear for his son's life. The door shut on us. The lights turned out. The bus didn't move a flicker. Looking through the screen, I found the crazy man directing the driver to stop at the kid's school and cross the over grown beanstalk across the street to the school. The school was supposedly on the by-pass road leading to madras. The father then shook hands with the driver, neatly managing to slip in a couple of notes into the drivers hands.

Now that the ordeal with the crazy father was over, we moved on. the bus was careering through the nigh traffic. It looked like the driver was making up for the lost eons by trying to extinguish the human race. One man who I had kept eying for the strange likeness he shared with a maddened grizzly, suddenly let out a sickening belch and threw up on the poor weasel of a man who was sharing half his seat with the grizzly. Sudden movements, puke bags being passed to the grizzly, pardons exchanged, seats shifted. And through all of this, the mummy lay unaware.

The bus kept rolling away at the same break-neck speed. I couldn't sleep from nervousness. The guy next to me was shifting uneasily and I was expecting him to burst from every orifice, anytime. Just when the roads seemed to clear and the drivers speed was setting into everyone, out of the blue, a rare deer, swiftly and gracefully jumped in front of the bus and as quickly as it had jumped in front, it had scampered back into the bushes, or so the driver claimed (in the driver's words, oru dearinga, vandikku munnala dunggunnu dunggunnu kuthicchi vanthicchi. Onnume panna mudiyala). Well, whether it was a deer or something that rhymes with it, the driver stamped on the breaks (air brakes, meant to stop the bus in its tracks at any speed), the ABS kept the bus from slamming into the stream of cars in the next lane and the thick growth of mangoes on the side. Well, this is when I should have been flustered and angry with the driver for making up an utterly insane alibi or at least thankful I was still alive to be doing what I was doing. But I was not, because I was delirious with laughter, tears streaming down my eyes, the sides of my stomach aching from spasms. I was chocking on my own laughter. The mummy had slipped clean from his seat and had somehow gotten itself wedged between his seat and the one in front of him. The shawls his loving dad had wrapped around his seemingly healthy body, were binding him like a strait jacket. He was struggling to free his hands. Half way through the struggle he lost track of where his hands were and was blindly shaking his shoulders. I was going to die soon if I did not stop laughing now. I laughed at this thought coz I was sure the poor kid was going to die if he kept struggling against the straight jacket. Suddenly, at God's will, his hands popped out from no where. Now I was consumed by a fresh bout of laughter from watching the kid trying to figure out where one shawl ended and where the other began. But he did not have to figure that out until the next day as me and the grizzly pulled the kid, wit his drapes, onto the seat and there he lay, no longer stretching across his seat, but curled up against the window. I was too tired from laughing that I had no time to feel sorry for him. We reached Madras the next day, just half an hour later than our scheduled arrival.