...as seen by...

Psychos! That’s what they are. I am talking about the KSTRC bus-drivers. Sorry, people of Karnataka, u might want to call those from your part of the world something else, I give you the choice, but K is for Kerala, and psychos is what I choose to call them, with dignity. And without it, they get it everyday, from other road-users, enough to go home and sleep peacefully with. Well there was a time when I admired these guys. That was about when I was learning the trickeries of manipulating 5 tonnes of iron in four wheels with the help of a slender wheel and a couple of paddles that looked like slipper soles. Oh yeah, I forgot, and there was this thing sticking out of the steering column, called the gear lever. This was exactly the problem, I kept forgetting it till I was done with pretty much everything else, and remembered only when the car would start rocking like hell or the instructor did, along with my ear in his clasp. Whichever happened first, the latter would happen, invariably....

mp3 was too good to be true. I remember what someone(was it Murphy himself?) said, if everything seems to be coming your way, get out of the wrong lane, stupid! So thus we were, enjoying the bounties of all those wonderful music, without paying a dime, without ever moving out of our cozy comfortable seats, with just a few mouse-clicks! And when all the hyper-reality ended suddenly, here we are, complaining! Get a grip, dude! OK, the irrelevant trivia being that suddenly someone thought let's give the music all the respect they deserve, and cleanup the network, and fizzle out all mp3 from the system. Bad! I mean real bad! You cannot imagine the amount of trauma this announcement induced in a majority of the workforce, which depended on the aid of soul-liberating music for everything right from designing frameworks to getting their shit out after lunch. Some passed out, some stopped working, some started working again, and some, including yours truly, protested in vain. But when all ...

The evening sun reflected upon the ripples of the lake, making a million golden ringlets. The mackerel-sky began to acquire a color which was a quaint mixture of yellow, grey and pink, or ethereal, in one word. I walked to the edge of the lake where my friend was sitting, facing the sun. A big flock of geese flew past, like fighter-planes in formation. “See those birds? Winter is here in a week!” I told him. “I don’t want to dismantle that tent. That’s such a sexy tent and I want to make love to it all winter!” “Spare me, I’ve got my girl in town. And I can’t go without beer for more than 2 weeks” “You’re not thinking of flying home, are you?” “What home?” He laughed out loud. And snapped the line out of water, and it had one big fish caught in the hook ! It jumped around in the grass, spraying water and mud all over, trying to make its way back to water. Couple of jumps later, it lost direction, couple of jumps more, and it lost interest as well. It just lay there still, breathing gen...