The calling from Stuart Little!

The phone rang & startled me from the report I had been concentrating on. The quarterly managers meet was around the corner & my reports were yet to culminate into a productive chart for the presentation.

My seven year old daughter was at the other end. In a small quivering voice she reminded that I had forgotten my promise.

Oh shoot! That puny guinea pig…Little Stuart was the cause of grief for all the parents’ n children in town. He beckoned invitingly to every kid from every TV channel & Sonia being a reasonably normal child was eating, sleeping, breathing, talking, and dreaming Little Stuart.

She counted days, hours, minutes & seconds to meet her buddy & pleaded her mum with all kinds of false promises of literary progress.

So here I was…my presentation was looming threateningly on my horizon & my conscience was riding high on a guilt trip.

With Sonia’s arrival, I had quit work & opted to stay home. Four years of being away from the rat race had brought my mental abilities into a cardiac arrest.

My friends had traveled a long way up the corporate ladder which had left me struggling like the tortoise from the famous “mother of all races”. And then it was also my Bihari blood’s honour that was at stake.

Back to Stuart…my immediate atom of grief. He kept making silent entries at the top-right corner of my computer screen at regular intervals waving friendly reminding me of my duties as a female parent.

When the saccrined dose of extra niceness was too much to handle...I decided to down the shutters at work. The mind was in any case, floating dangerously in the area where the multiplex was situated. Every harried parent was getting sucked into the theatre’s orbit creating a massive traffic occlude.

The plan was to head home, get Sonia organized into a respectable kid of an estimably respectable mother & hurry to catch the evening show of Little Stuart.

So I get out of the lift…hollering to make my presence felt & get Sonia to fall in line from her hiding place in the remotest corner of the house where our regular roaches’ n spiders resided. Incidentally, the lizards didn’t give them company coz it was hibernation time for them at that time of the year.

Once Sonia is wiped clean n powdered, we gallop to catch the first rickshaw that could transport us to the movie hall at break neck speed.

The traffic is plugged from all sides & by the time we reach the hall…the booking counter has shut shop. My pleading eyes do not move the meanie at the counter as he announces that it’s a house full show & with a wave of his hand unceremoniously dismisses us.

Sonia is crestfallen & her lips shape into a pouty crescent, eyes threatening to spill the sorrow that was bleeding her heart. Her gait pulled at the cockles of my heart & I fervently prayed for a miracle that would bring a smile back to my child’s face.

The meanie, in the mean time was absorbing all this & something pulled at his shriveled heart strings. So he beckoned to me & said…how many tickets did you say you wanted? I have two kept aside for a customer that I can give you.

MIRACLE! GOD…where are you? Ahem! Are you staring at me through this meanie’s face?

I could have kissed the gravelly stubble of this sweaty…swarthy man for being such an angel. Sonia shrieked in rejoice breaking into the latest foxtrot that she had been practicing at home.

Holding hands we run up the stairs like steroid administered athletes. Hearts pounding & a triumphant grin in tow, we enter the already dark theatre. Our seats are approximately nine feet away from the screen. Sonia’s delight knows no bounds as she points out that she’s the closest to Stuart Little.

As we settle into the story & get transported into a different world, I’m startled by a touch. Someone’s probing in the dark! And then I feel a squeeze n a wet kiss on the back of my hand from this little devil that had brought her mum down on her knees to meet her sassy friend…this Little Stuart!

Copyright © BuntysBanter 2006

I wanna vent about the faux pas…any takers?

11th July, 2006 shall be itched as the black Tuesday in the Indian history. Seven bomb blasts ravaged the local trains of Mumbai at the peak hour that took many a lives leaving behind orphaned homes & families.

The ruptured dismembered bodies of victims along with the blood-spattered gore were overwhelming to those who experienced this incident first-hand. The scene at the railway stations was that of personified pandemonium. Everyone was in a state of limbo.

Abatement from the assault came in the form of shopkeepers & squatters who sell/roam along the railway tracks. Everyone helped everyone else in a monotonic demeanour.

As minutes ticked away…frustrations knew no bounds. The police & the local authorities were blamed. But the fact of the matter is that when there is a catastrophe of such magnitude it is utter chaos. There is a vacuum of anything between 10 to 30mins before proper response is received from the concerned authorities. So the blame game was actually unwarranted here.

The reason for venting today is the aftermath of this disaster. The police, the fire brigade & municipal authorities doubled-up to brace with the situation. To add to this, they had to deal with the political leaders who came for a “dekho” of the situation & deliver a galvanized rhetoric statement that never condenses or fructifies. Not a penny see the light of day nor a widow or orphan reinstated or employed.

The minister has got yet another chance to be at the forefront of a situation & gain some cheap mileage. Impose his/her party’s propaganda more than the issue on hand. One yatra by a “Z” security neta measures to bolstered security, roadblocks & re-direction of traffic.

So last Tuesday… we have a bomb blast, hundreds of injured individuals, harassed hospital authorities & workers, police officers & there likes. And then a call from Nai Dilli to announce the arrival of maam & mantriji’s.

Quick...quick… drop the petty salvage issues of saving lives. There are more important things to do. Organize a squad for our very special dignitaries. Seal off the main artery of the road traffic segment. We do not want Soniaji, lalooji, R R Patilji & Shindeji to undergo any discomfort due to the fact that the city has plunged into a wasted abyss. The ambulances, equipments & human help can wait or take another route.

Will we ever experience redemption from hollow acts of kindness & get down to ground level realities? Could the honourable ministers not monitor the situation from their respective establishments leaving the uncouth task of dealing with the aftermath to the professionals? Could we not have saved time, energy & money along with precious man resources that was the need of the hour?

Copyright © BuntysBanter 2006

My first tryst with love…stunted!

Our college had closed down for the diwali vacations. Vacation meant all kinds of hullabaloo…picnics…parties…maza…masti! My friend Sana invites me to join her friends to a picnic at a hotspot on the outskirts of Mumbai. It’s a one-hour trek to the temple on the hills with lovely wooded surroundings.

We congregate at the designated railway station & then saunter to the intended destination. Tiny cosy hamlets spring out at short intervals as we walk on. Sana introduces me to all her friends who had brought along some more friends from other colleges.

This was the first time I was going to a picnic without being escorted by a parent or teacher. We were seventeen & bursting with bubbly energy. The presence of boys made our hearts beat an extra skip as we headily walked in small groups.

Then I get introduced to Ajay Malhotra. He was an engineering student, about nineteen, 6ft 3” (about 187.5cms), looked like the Jedi of love (of course…my opinion has changed gears now when I think about it).

As we revel in the pristine nature walk, Ajay joins in & whispers ever so softly if I would like to be his friend. I looked puzzled coz I thought we already were friends. He gives me a look that’s probably not flattering my faculty of thought and reason. That does the trick and makes me understand the meaning of “ being friends”.

Though I’m effervescent with the adulation coming my way, I have a different perception of love Jedi Ajay’s intelligence stemming from the fact that I had still not shed my famous healthy drumstick look. And here he was…gawking with just the right tinge of interest to make me feel a bit proud of my hidden beauties. Even my underdeveloped jujubes (bor) were not going to make me feel awkward now.

And then there were the other girls who would have loved to be with him. So obviously he was good for me. But I still needed to consult my auxiliary support. So I inform Mr Jedi that I shall have a reply for him in the coming days.

I get the opportunity the very next day. Mum was cleaning fish focusing all concentration on not leaving a single scale behind. The opportunity was right & I had to take my chance now!

So the conversation starts about how she’s a genius with the fish curry, the frangipanis in the garden have blossomed in such abundance & could I say yes to a potential boyfriend…tick…tick…tick…silence!

She inquires about his ancestral bearings & gives me a nod. I’m perplexed at her reaction. I’m dismayed for not getting the opportunity to use the fireproof apparel that I was wearing to stick it out in case of any combustible situation arising from the information I was providing her.

She gently convinces me to meet him only in a group. She philosophizes that if he loves you…he shall wait! WAIT? Why wait?…..Ah ha….wait! I know all about….WAIT!

Thus starts my first love affair. Ajay conscientious comes to my college sacrificing his lectures to peep at me from across the coffee table at our college canteen & is ecstatic when I say yes.

After the initial euphoria of accomplishment, Ajay starts yeaning for private getaways. In the meanwhile I have been busy too. My Eros incarnate (greek god of love) has been placed on an exaggeratedly high pedestal to be worshipped, oblivious of his languishing desires.

As weeks zipped by…Ajay turned from a sweet ever caring boyfriend into a resentful yokelish individual. The huge mound of pride on which I stood was fast eroding. My blemishes were personified & being mentally obtuse was not much help to decipher the reason behind this unrest in our sanctum of love.

One day Ajay’s raging hormones gets the better of him & in a disjointed state he dissertated that his folks had found out about his supposed liaison with me & he could therefore no longer continue to see me.

All hell broke lose. I realized with painful surprise that I was capable of producing hundreds of gallons of saline liquids for days, all the time sympathizing with my dear Ajay & his predicament.

My auxiliary advisor wore a mask on learning of my busted fate. She sympathized & mumbled something like…there is a silver lining behind every broken heart.

Me : Maa…that’s supposed to be behind every cloud..not heart.

Maa : Oh! whatever!

Well…there was no silver lining in this case. I was branded & predicted to die a spinster’s death.

No guy wanted to be within a 100mt radius of me. And the ones who strayed were people who wanted my help to date my other girlfriends.

Redemption prevailed at last when I joined the Naval wing of the NCC (National Cadet Corp) where due to severe imbalance in the sex ratio; the saturating numbers did the trick. My confidence in my hidden beauty returned as I once again stood on the mound of self-pride.

Copyright © BuntysBanter 2006