Music in my head: The Mars Volta - Eriatarka
Today's weather: Dusty, windy, guess where?
If you book a prepaid taxi
To go to the railway station,
Cater for some extra change,
For rest and relaxation.
A man grabbed the ticket
Right out of my clenched fist,
Then he rolled my trolley on
Towards a man with a list
Of taxis that were idling,
Waiting for someone
To get onto the rickety machine
So they could have some fun.
I gave the trolley pusher
Twenty Indian Rupees.
I felt like Shantaram then,
He beamed and pocketed his fees.
Onto the taxi ride then,
It's lucky I didn't end up dead,
As the driver pulled a Rajini
With his hands behind his head.
High speed turns he negotiated
With a sudden flick of his hand.
I was beyond relieved when he
Pulled into the Station's taxi stand.
"Driver tip", he asked audaciously,
I pulled out ten rupees this time.
He stared at the tenner for a while,
Then at me, with contempt, the slime.
I just walked towards the platform,
My train for Trichy was at ten.
It was just eight o'clock,
I didn't know what to do till then.,
Until I found a waiting room,
Which had a power supply, hurray!
So I powered on my computer,
And replied to e-mails I received today,
Then fooled around on Facebook,
Until the train came around.
I got my ticket checked an then
In the thambi rhythm, I was drowned.
Showing posts with label Thambis. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Thambis. Show all posts
July 13, 2009
June 03, 2009
Do naat do it, ji...
Music in my head: Radiohead- Sulk
Today's weather: Getting Cloudy
Cars wait for you to cross the road, so you don't have to dart through the traffic praying furiously.
Trains arrive exactly on time, to the second, so you don't have to hurl curses at random politicians.
People respect FCFS, queues are maintained, so you don't have to stand so close to the fat lady in front of you that you have to rotate your pelvis slightly.
Girls in the prime of life show skin, a lot of skin, so you don't have to make up mental pictures.
Public displays of affection are fairly commonplace, so you don't have to look too far to feel infinitesimally small.
People love seafood, so you don't have to have a keen sense of smell to feel nauseous.
Food is expensive, so you don't have to eat like a glutton any more.
Hardly anyone understands English, so you don't have to talk too much.
You have to use so many hand signals for communication that your arms ache, so you don't have to do the curls any more.
You walk so much that there's a new boil under your foot everyday, so you don't have to jog every morning.
Internet speeds are out of this world, so you don't have to keep your computer on overnight any more.
The bases of the walls are not moist here, so you don't have to cover your nose near fences.
There's no cow dung on the streets, so you don't have to watch your step.
It's not terribly warm, so you don't have to shower everyday.
Finally, there are thambi restaurants here, so you don't have to feel homesick.
Today's weather: Getting Cloudy
Cars wait for you to cross the road, so you don't have to dart through the traffic praying furiously.
Trains arrive exactly on time, to the second, so you don't have to hurl curses at random politicians.
People respect FCFS, queues are maintained, so you don't have to stand so close to the fat lady in front of you that you have to rotate your pelvis slightly.
Girls in the prime of life show skin, a lot of skin, so you don't have to make up mental pictures.
Public displays of affection are fairly commonplace, so you don't have to look too far to feel infinitesimally small.
People love seafood, so you don't have to have a keen sense of smell to feel nauseous.
Food is expensive, so you don't have to eat like a glutton any more.
Hardly anyone understands English, so you don't have to talk too much.
You have to use so many hand signals for communication that your arms ache, so you don't have to do the curls any more.
You walk so much that there's a new boil under your foot everyday, so you don't have to jog every morning.
Internet speeds are out of this world, so you don't have to keep your computer on overnight any more.
The bases of the walls are not moist here, so you don't have to cover your nose near fences.
There's no cow dung on the streets, so you don't have to watch your step.
It's not terribly warm, so you don't have to shower everyday.
Finally, there are thambi restaurants here, so you don't have to feel homesick.
Soup
Music in my head: Sigur Ros- Von
Today's weather: Sunny
It is not very entertaining to listen to a conversation in Chinese, contrary to what everyone might think. All I can hear is a nasal drone and the occasional really loud syllable. It's disturbing me from my work, which is all set to break a lot of ground. It's sad, really, considering that this is about as far away from China as it possibly gets (I'm in France. In your face.).
Now, lamenting gently about the dearth of Frenchmen in a small French town on the Atlantic Coast, my thoughts meander to a little trip I made to its even more Mongoloid dense centre, the pride of France, Paris. But this is not about the Mongoloids, not even about the Frenchmen. My thoughts go back to a quaint little bistro on a busy corner in the north of Paris. Cafe Foresta, they called it. It served Italian food and drink. And it was run by, wait for it, a thambi anna, forgive the oxymoron.
We did realise a strange familiarity about the waiter's face as soon as we entered. There was the weird French hairdo with lots of gel on, and the puffy French shirt and the pointy French shoes. But there was also the tropical complexion and an expression of what we thought was slight joy at seeing us that led us to believe that he was Indian. Of course, his perfect French belied our inferences, so we had to wait for a sign.
Oh yes, he did give us a sign. He wrote down our order, walked calmly over to the counter and shouted- " Anney, Oru Isabella, Oru Reims, Oru Vegitarienne, sighram!" We could just look at each other and smile. It's a small world.
The old tamil songs started playing and we were transported to a much warmer, more polluted place densely packed with sweaty people, although only the music was a common factor here. In that little instant, we went from Cafe Foresta to Motel Bamboos, and were back with a resounding crash when they brought our pizzas, and were slapped even harder right across the face with a sixteen euro per person cheque.
Sometimes home is the best place on earth.
Today's weather: Sunny
It is not very entertaining to listen to a conversation in Chinese, contrary to what everyone might think. All I can hear is a nasal drone and the occasional really loud syllable. It's disturbing me from my work, which is all set to break a lot of ground. It's sad, really, considering that this is about as far away from China as it possibly gets (I'm in France. In your face.).
Now, lamenting gently about the dearth of Frenchmen in a small French town on the Atlantic Coast, my thoughts meander to a little trip I made to its even more Mongoloid dense centre, the pride of France, Paris. But this is not about the Mongoloids, not even about the Frenchmen. My thoughts go back to a quaint little bistro on a busy corner in the north of Paris. Cafe Foresta, they called it. It served Italian food and drink. And it was run by, wait for it, a thambi anna, forgive the oxymoron.
We did realise a strange familiarity about the waiter's face as soon as we entered. There was the weird French hairdo with lots of gel on, and the puffy French shirt and the pointy French shoes. But there was also the tropical complexion and an expression of what we thought was slight joy at seeing us that led us to believe that he was Indian. Of course, his perfect French belied our inferences, so we had to wait for a sign.
Oh yes, he did give us a sign. He wrote down our order, walked calmly over to the counter and shouted- " Anney, Oru Isabella, Oru Reims, Oru Vegitarienne, sighram!" We could just look at each other and smile. It's a small world.
The old tamil songs started playing and we were transported to a much warmer, more polluted place densely packed with sweaty people, although only the music was a common factor here. In that little instant, we went from Cafe Foresta to Motel Bamboos, and were back with a resounding crash when they brought our pizzas, and were slapped even harder right across the face with a sixteen euro per person cheque.
Sometimes home is the best place on earth.
March 07, 2009
Of a Pair of Pairs
Music in my head: Garmarna- Herr Mannelig
Today's weather: Cool
Some people have the weirdest habit of socializing with complete strangers. It maybe commonplace in the 'west', but in India, you have to have a pair to go and make arbitrary small talk with a complete stranger.
My encounters with such 'paired' people had been few and far between, at least till today morning. Everything changed today morning.
Instance 1:
I board a bus to go to Chennai from Trichy, from where I'd catch a flight to Delhi. A strange man comes and sits next me, and is surprisingly warm right from the word go.
Man: (Nod of the head)
Me: (nod back)
Man: Hello paa! Madras going you?
Me: Yes anna.
Man: Madras good place. Trichy very haat.
Me: Yes anna.
Man: (Wide smile)
Me: (Smile back)
Man: (after a while) Small help paa.
Me: What anna?
Man: You have twenty rupees?
Me: (bewildered pause)
Man: Urgent need paa, bus ticket naat full money.
Me: (Mellowing a little) Ok anna, let the conductor come, I'll pay.
Man: No! Give money now. Me other bus, not this bus.
Me: Anna, I don't have change.
Man: How much you have?
Me: Only 500 anna.
Man: Give me 500, I bringing change.
Me: (totally bewildered) I cannot do that anna!
Man: Small help paa, only 50 rupees.
Me: You said 20 earlier.
Man: Ok 20, give.
Me: I can't give you anna, I'm a college student, going home, I have only little money.
Man: Please pa!
Me: No anna, please, I cannot.
Man: (Dirty look) Wokay, wokay, I going.
And then he was gone. What a pair on him, I imagine.
Instance 2:
I reach the airport, buy a cappuccino that cost 80 bucks, and sat down determined to enjoy it, when today's second pair walks towards me, smiles and assumes a seat next to me.
Man: Hello, you going where?
Me: Delhi.
Man: Good, good. Delhi very nice place. I been in Delhi once.
Me: Ok.
Man: You from delhi.
Me: Yes, I live there.
Man: Ok. What you doing here?
Me: I'm studying at Trichy.
Man: Engineeringaa?
Me: Yes.
Man: Wokay, wokay. College leave aa?
Me: Yes anna.
Man: How long paa?
Me: One week anna.
Man: Wokay, you going to see your fathers and mothers aa?
Me: (In my mind: What!!?)(Stifling laughter) Yes anna.
Man: (big smile)
Me: (Big smile) ok anna, my flight is about to depart.
Man: Wokay wokay.
I grab what's left of my coffee and get the hell out of the area. What a pair on that guy, I imagine.
I've got five more hours to wait at the airport and I don't need any crystal balls to tell me that I have to watch out for more pairs flung at me.
Today's weather: Cool
Some people have the weirdest habit of socializing with complete strangers. It maybe commonplace in the 'west', but in India, you have to have a pair to go and make arbitrary small talk with a complete stranger.
My encounters with such 'paired' people had been few and far between, at least till today morning. Everything changed today morning.
Instance 1:
I board a bus to go to Chennai from Trichy, from where I'd catch a flight to Delhi. A strange man comes and sits next me, and is surprisingly warm right from the word go.
Man: (Nod of the head)
Me: (nod back)
Man: Hello paa! Madras going you?
Me: Yes anna.
Man: Madras good place. Trichy very haat.
Me: Yes anna.
Man: (Wide smile)
Me: (Smile back)
Man: (after a while) Small help paa.
Me: What anna?
Man: You have twenty rupees?
Me: (bewildered pause)
Man: Urgent need paa, bus ticket naat full money.
Me: (Mellowing a little) Ok anna, let the conductor come, I'll pay.
Man: No! Give money now. Me other bus, not this bus.
Me: Anna, I don't have change.
Man: How much you have?
Me: Only 500 anna.
Man: Give me 500, I bringing change.
Me: (totally bewildered) I cannot do that anna!
Man: Small help paa, only 50 rupees.
Me: You said 20 earlier.
Man: Ok 20, give.
Me: I can't give you anna, I'm a college student, going home, I have only little money.
Man: Please pa!
Me: No anna, please, I cannot.
Man: (Dirty look) Wokay, wokay, I going.
And then he was gone. What a pair on him, I imagine.
Instance 2:
I reach the airport, buy a cappuccino that cost 80 bucks, and sat down determined to enjoy it, when today's second pair walks towards me, smiles and assumes a seat next to me.
Man: Hello, you going where?
Me: Delhi.
Man: Good, good. Delhi very nice place. I been in Delhi once.
Me: Ok.
Man: You from delhi.
Me: Yes, I live there.
Man: Ok. What you doing here?
Me: I'm studying at Trichy.
Man: Engineeringaa?
Me: Yes.
Man: Wokay, wokay. College leave aa?
Me: Yes anna.
Man: How long paa?
Me: One week anna.
Man: Wokay, you going to see your fathers and mothers aa?
Me: (In my mind: What!!?)(Stifling laughter) Yes anna.
Man: (big smile)
Me: (Big smile) ok anna, my flight is about to depart.
Man: Wokay wokay.
I grab what's left of my coffee and get the hell out of the area. What a pair on that guy, I imagine.
I've got five more hours to wait at the airport and I don't need any crystal balls to tell me that I have to watch out for more pairs flung at me.
February 12, 2009
While(1>0)
Music in my head: Porcupine Tree- Even Less
Today's weather: Sticky
Sometimes it feels like I'm walking into the same trap over and over and over again. If we were, indeed, in the matrix, I'd be in the middle of a colossal glitch.
Today's Smith was Bear-Man, first words that popped into my mind when I saw him.
Me: How much do I pay for a grade card?
Bear-Man:
Me: What's that again?
Bear-Man: Sissty
Me: Sixty?
Bear-Man: Sissty Paa!
Bear-Man had made his point. I plodded two kilometers to the bank, filled up a form, paid, and returned with a counterfoil that enables the dumass to retrieve what I had paid at the bank. Brief flashback, about a year back in time:
Me: How much do I pay for a grade card?
Shaved Bear-Man:
Me: What's that again?
Shaved Bear-Man: Yaighty
Me: Eighty?
Shaved Bear-Man: Yaighty Paa!
At this point I open my wallet to take out the eighty rupees for the grade card, when
Shaved Bear-Man: You cannaat pay me. You pay challan bank, I take counterfaail. Write also request letter pa!
Bear-Man had made his point. I plodded two kilometers to the bank, filled up a form, paid, and returned with a counterfoil that enables the dumass to retrieve what I had paid at the bank.
Present day:
I return with the counterfoil, he catches a glimpse of it when
Bear-Man: Write also request letter paa!
I scribble something on a piece of paper and give it to him. He takes one look and
Bear-Man: Who told you sissty paa? It is yaighty!
Me: No! I asked you! You told me it was sixty!
Bear-Man: Don't lie paa! Everyone knows it is yaighty! Go get it the twenty rupee challan more and come paa!
Bear-Man had made his point. I plodded two kilometers to the bank, filled up a form, paid, and returned with a counterfoil that enables the dumass to retrieve what I had paid at the bank...
Today's weather: Sticky
Sometimes it feels like I'm walking into the same trap over and over and over again. If we were, indeed, in the matrix, I'd be in the middle of a colossal glitch.
Today's Smith was Bear-Man, first words that popped into my mind when I saw him.
Me: How much do I pay for a grade card?
Bear-Man:
Me: What's that again?
Bear-Man: Sissty
Me: Sixty?
Bear-Man: Sissty Paa!
Bear-Man had made his point. I plodded two kilometers to the bank, filled up a form, paid, and returned with a counterfoil that enables the dumass to retrieve what I had paid at the bank. Brief flashback, about a year back in time:
Me: How much do I pay for a grade card?
Shaved Bear-Man:
Me: What's that again?
Shaved Bear-Man: Yaighty
Me: Eighty?
Shaved Bear-Man: Yaighty Paa!
At this point I open my wallet to take out the eighty rupees for the grade card, when
Shaved Bear-Man: You cannaat pay me. You pay challan bank, I take counterfaail. Write also request letter pa!
Bear-Man had made his point. I plodded two kilometers to the bank, filled up a form, paid, and returned with a counterfoil that enables the dumass to retrieve what I had paid at the bank.
Present day:
I return with the counterfoil, he catches a glimpse of it when
Bear-Man: Write also request letter paa!
I scribble something on a piece of paper and give it to him. He takes one look and
Bear-Man: Who told you sissty paa? It is yaighty!
Me: No! I asked you! You told me it was sixty!
Bear-Man: Don't lie paa! Everyone knows it is yaighty! Go get it the twenty rupee challan more and come paa!
Bear-Man had made his point. I plodded two kilometers to the bank, filled up a form, paid, and returned with a counterfoil that enables the dumass to retrieve what I had paid at the bank...
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