Dumb me, my Smart phone's gone!

My phone’s screen is broken.  It's not with me, it's at the repair shop being poked and prodded and repaired. Right now, I don’t have a smart phone with me, not even a spare smart phone. I feel very lonely and dumb.  

I can’t check my mails on my phone. I can’t search google for random crappy things that I prefer to do so I can avoid using my office laptop, and get some relief from work wihtou it being in the history of my machine that can be tracked by the organization's IT department if it so desires. I cannot order food! I cannot order a cab!

I can’t check WhatsApp and send random messages! Quirky observations need to be held in check. Distress calls must be postponed. I cannot ask my husband when he is going home from work so I can plan to stay longer in office, or go visit that quirky shop I have been meaning to visit on my way back home from work. I can’t shop in peace and discretion on Amazon or Flipkart or Club Factory or Jabbong or Myntra. I need to exercise caution that my manager is not around. I can’t play solitaire or reply to my mails when I am having lunch or going for a stroll or waiting for my computer to reboot.

My life is going in slow motion. It feels like that kind of a video where the central character is standing still and around that character, the crowd moves, day becomes night and yet that character stays still and unmoving ... dumbstruck. I feel like that character. Dumbstruck. Amputated.

I don’t have a land-line. Just my beloved mobile phone that I use for banking, shopping, searching, entertainment, information, games, pretending to be busy, avoiding conversations, engagement. Now, I must watch television, open my laptop, open chrome and search and shop online. I must have a conversation, or fidget with my hair, nails, fingers. Look away or look awkaward, hum a tune, seem interested in my surroundings. I must cook food if I am hungry or use my husband’s phone to order online. I can’t give in and satisfy my secret food cravings and let them remain (relatively) secret. I need to use my bike or go by bus or metro and not use my phone to book a cab. Heavens above! I need to go back 15 years into the past!

Now, even if I log in to my Gmail from an internet café, I will be paralyzed, because the OTP will be sent to my smart phone to verify my identity. Suddenly my password is not so important. It’s my mobile phone that is my identity! If I want to search for apartments or have an online interaction, my email is not important. My website log in details and password is not enough to verify that I am me and not anyone else. My smart phone will automatically get the information – one message – and voila! my identity is verified!

But I am not very disheartened. I still know the whereabouts of my phone. It is in the process of becoming whole. It is simply being repaired. I will be rejoined with my modern identity case and my life long partner in a few days. I thank God that my phone is not LOST! Imagine – what if it gets lost and falls into the wrong hands…?!!!?

Imagine, my phone gets hacked, that person figures out my passwords; mobile banking passwords and email passwords and gmail passwords; has a peek at my WhatsApp messages. He can duplicate my entire life and day to day activities. That person can ogle at my photgraphs - even those ones that I took to check if the seat of my pants does not have any stains or to check if there is pimple at the back of my neck. 

My online identity can be duplicated and soon my money and messages will not be in my control. That rectangular silicon block encloses my entire life and day to day activities. I had spent so much time and effort choosing my phone, my inanimate life partner who knows all my needs and caters to all my demands at the speed of light! It would now be in the uncouth hands of a stranger who is practically raping me without my knowledge!

Today’s apps, activities and conveniences are all designed with the smart phone in mind. The laptop era has long gone. From the computer and internet era, we have entered the smart phone era. Internet security is now passé. Phone security and mobile internet privacy is the NextGen worry. Even as the size of the gadget reduces, the scale of worry and possessiveness has only increased. 

I had lost my phone for a few hours. Some good soul found my phone and returned it. but during those couple of hours, my prayer to God was, “Please God, it’s alright if my phone is destroyed, but let it not fall into the wrong hands!”

the story of half baked ideas

My head is teeming with ideas. I want to write. But I am feeling so scatter brained! It is as if thoughts are running full tilt and then silent bursting out half way through execution, their essence scattering all over my skull… neither completely disintegrating nor completing forming. Being in that in between state as it is… lingering... lingering in my memory like a favourite song, now forgotten. Even as these ideas vaguely hum in my brain, I am trying to give them form and substance and all that happens is my hand lifts itself with enthusiasm, but not knowing what to do, simply falls back. My fingers that were curled tightly around a pen, now loosen and seem to lose focus. They are still curled, but the pen has fallen, and its ink seems to flow away like a water from a glass… staining the table uselessly instead of forming beautiful and intricate penmanship of my thoughts that had once been ready to hurl itself wondrously though my fingers.

Bang bang hammer hammer galore

The day looks gloomy. The sun is a weak light trying to shine through the heavy clouds. It's May in Bangalore. For a girl who is from Bombay, this kind of a weather is heavenly! 'Cause in Bombay, May = agninakshatra. Those who don't have an AC literally melt in the humid heat. Those who do, closet themselves in the rooms which have AC. Going out only for basic necessities like eating, using the loo and maybe go out for work.

It's that time of the year when all you want is to feel like ice cream in the freezer because once you get out, you sure are going to melt!

But in Bangalore, you do feel like an apple in the fridge. The weather is cool. If the weather gets too hot, it will rain. Either that same evening or in a couple of days.

The heat has also increased in the garden city since gardens are now few and far between. They are now mostly filled with jungles of concrete. There are more buildings than trees. More concrete lorries than lorries carrying vegetables, petrol and what have you. Lots of sand, cement, stones and bricks. Fewer shrubs. An empty plot is never empty for long. Buildings spring up like mushrooms and toadstools; poisoning the environment.

Some of those buildings are mired in litigation, yet you see that they have some occupancy. Forest lands can go to hell and burn. But buildings will find a way to creep up and shoot up to reach the sky.

The trees will grow. Nature has a way to find its way out. A small creeper will grow out of a crack near the subway or bridge and that will be hailed as the symbol of greenery. See! We do co-exist with nature.

I don't mind the fact that a hundred or more trees have been cut to build the metro. It's the usurping of forest land and agriculture land and building monstrosities called apartments that has me griping. Yes, I live in one of those. Guilty.

I am one of those 'stupid immigrants' who has moved from the north. But, my parents hail from this city. I have seen this city grow from a two-lane city where I could jaywalk in the summers without ever getting hit by a car to a place with roads so crammed with vehicles that not even a child can cross the road. Still...

I wish that people would come together and start planting trees, plants, shrubs on empty plots of land. Before any builder thinks of usurping that plot of earth, why can't citizens claim it? Plant herbs, plants, trees and shrubs so that this city can become greener? They can share the produce and contribute to the upkeep. They will save up on their grocery bills. Make a patch of land more beautiful. Sustainable for the neighbourhood.

Why can't real estates think that they need to stop raping the earth and give something back to her? Not for thanks. It's too late for that. But, simply so we can survive and live in this city once more. To make this city livable once more.

I hope to find one small square feet of land that is empty and simply claim it so I can nurture a few plants... add something to the flora of this once beautiful city. Get some herbs and spice for free and save some cash from the amazons and indiamarts of this country! 

Coming full circle....Or at least on the way to it...

The world is coming full circle.
It’s not the micro picture that I am looking at. It’s the macro one. India and it’s policies are going to be slowly admired and emulated. We may not be the richest country wealth wise but in terms of understanding human nature, administration and philosophy we may certainly lead the way forward.
India as a people, as a culture, is special. Though we have allowed foreigners to take away and desecrate manifestations of our culture, we have never erased them from our lifestyle. An Indian who has moved miles away from his country even three hundred years ago has managed to keep key aspects of it alive in the place where he has moved to. Though an Indian is out of his country, his indian-ness prevails.
Besides our knowledge and philosophy is based on observation and science. The world is only now catching up with us!😁
Our way of life will covertly permeate into the consciousness of our world. This is so because the medievalist age is finally vanishing on the west and it is looking into science for answers. As it looks into science, it seems to be indirectly and independently attesting to the Indian way of life. So western scientists look towards Indian way of life in a different and diffident manner, awestruck at the deep rooted science behind it. This, even as majority of Indians are mocking at ourselves, lauding ourselves of our acceptance and tolerance even as we are intolerant to what we are innately.
Paradoxic, really!!

Nicolas - I miss you!

In an old city that’s new to me. I have grown up here but I have lived else where and am back here. Its home, yet its not. A very strange place. Stranger still because my heart is where my dog is. And my dog is not with me. I miss my Nico. I miss him so much that at odd moments, I tear up. My throat constricts and I simply want to see him. I just want to touch his soft warm body and feel his heartbeat thudding under my palm. I want to see him on his back with his paws in air, asking me for a belly rub… I want to hug him and bug him, cuddle him and run with him. I want to take him out on a walk and come home, wipe his paws and hear him drink water. I want to feed him. I want to peel the eggs, mix the rice and put the Pedigree and call out, “Nikki…Nikki…come here! Come and eat now!” I want to have him sniff my hands and lick it clean and then walk him to his bowl and watch him eat his meal, slurp some water and come to me and sniff my feet as I am working in the kitchen… looking at the shelf where his treats are kept. Demanding that I give him some after dinner snack. I miss the happiness on his face when he sees me give him those treats.

I miss the ability to just go up to him and rub his back and have him move this way and that so I can rub him where he wants. I miss rubbing his snout and scratching his ears… I miss looking at his eyes and seeing his smile. I miss his wagging tail and jumping on me as soon as I enter the house. I miss him sniff me all over to find out where I have been.

I miss irritating him on weekends. I miss holding his paws while he is on his belly and make him ‘make his moves’ while I listen to a song I like. I miss picking out ticks from his toes, I miss brushing his teeth, I miss playing with his teeth. I miss my dog. I miss my Nico. He is the dissolver of my tensions. He makes me feel I am a better person even if I am not. He makes me better than I am by just being him. He makes me go out when I feel low and he understands when I need ‘me’ time and allows me to sulk. He sits by my side when I am feeling low. He licks me when I am crying.

I hope he doesn’t miss me much but I know he misses me a lot and that makes me miss him a lot more. I just want to be with my Nikki.

Money - ShunIt!

Money disappears from the world. The world comes to a standstill. People don’t know how to survive anymore. How they earn? How do they value their services? How can GDP be measured? The basis of our existence and success is measured by the money we make. The entire concept of wealth and what we strive for is eradicated in one stroke. Money is a piece of paper that is extremely important and now that piece of paper is worth nothing.

One guy realised that instead of bartering services for money, services will be bartered in exchange. Each one helps the other person in whatever way they need. If a person is specialised in a particular craft, then they either trade skills or they help the other person with the job that needs to be done. The society as a whole slowly ceases to measure things obsessively and simply goes ahead do things that it needs to sustain itself. Be it art, crafts, music, film making or anything, everything is done and practiced, but the reason is not for money. It is for that person’s will and desire.

Food, water and nourishment becomes priority. We learn to co-exist and nourish nature and our surroundings. Agriculture, plants and trees become more important than technology. Our entire existence undergoes a paradigm shift and we learn to co-exist with nature and animals.

Man becomes more social, and anti-social elements of the society are not encouraged since the existence of man is now dependent on how interactive and social he is with his fellow men and surroundings. He would be isolated or he would have to grow his own food so as to survive. Of course, there would be other kinds of anti-social behaviours that would be encouraged. Man has a mind that can be twisted and can twist any kind of goodness into evil. For, where there is a God, a devil also co-exists and it depends on the ratio of how much God and how much Devil a person is innately made of. One can only hope that it will eventually get balanced.

Mangoes, Children and Old People - All In One Story

The flies were buzzing in the summer heat. The village was reasonably quiet. It was mango season. Chintoo, Munni and Shyam hadn’t eaten for quite a while. They stopped and sat under the cool shade of the mango trees and soon the fruits’ fragrance overpowered them. They looked up and around at the trees and between the dark green leaves saw some ripe yellow mangoes hanging onto the trees. Some of the mangoes had the greenish yellow tinge that made you feel the salt and sweet tingle your tongue. Their big eyes looked wondrously at the fruit and the three of them licked their lips at the sumptuous feast that seemed to be spread in front of them. Instinctively, Munni looked around to see if there were any chaukidars, human or four legged ones. Her alert gaze did not see anything guarding the mangrove. She tugged Shyam’s sleeve and looked at him as she tipped her head towards the fence. The two now looked at the trees as if assessing which one was the easiest to climb and which had the most number of fruits. Their assessing gaze landed on one that was around a few yards from the big old comfortable looking house that seemed shabby yet somewhat inviting and totally dominated by the mango trees. They cocked their heads towards the house, trying to discern if anyone was inside. But the house seemed quiet.  They silently looked at each other and then, Shyam and Munni seemed to move forward. Like an unwritten code, Chintoo followed them and they easily snuck through the barbed wire fence. They made their way slowly, looking to the ground as they walked, wary of snakes and twigs that would give their presence away. The mosquitoes buzzed around them biting and singing as if serenading the trio who slapped and scratched quietly, almost reflexively, as they made their way quietly. They soon reached the tree they wanted to climb. Munni took off her dupatta and tied it to make it a small bag and Shyam slung it on his shoulder and climbed. Munni nudged Chintoo and he looked around. He was the watchman. He looked around and soon wandered towards the house. He looked back to see that his brother had climbed. His sister was alternately looking at him and Shyam. She also looked up and around to check if someone else was coming from the other side. She looked towards the tree. Shyam was busy. Munni’s dupatta was almost half full.

Meanwhile, Chintoo wandered off closer to the house. He seemed to be drawn to the huge house that had cobwebs hanging off the corners. There was a screen door that was closed but the main door was open. Chintoo looked back at his sister, a question in his eyes. She looked back at him sternly and nodded her head sideways, ‘No’ and put her finger to her lips. His eyes bade good bye to the grand but crumbling structure as he walked back to his sister.

Meanwhile, Shyam was climbing down the tree with his collection of loot. As he walked back in the quiet, he stepped on some dried leaves and yelped in fear. The three suddenly froze.

From inside, footsteps creaked and the screen door opened.

An old woman with a bright smile opened the door. She saw the three little thieves.

The three little thieves were too far apart from each other and were too frozen to move a muscle. They looked startled and then resigned.

The old woman’s smile turned to dismay. She ate up the scene with her eyes as she stepped out onto the veranda.

Hands on her hips, her lips a thin line of disapproval, she gestured for them to come over to her. By then, Shyam and Munni were standing next to each other. Guilt and fear was writ large on Chintoo’s small face. Chintoo responded to her as if hypnotised. Munni and Shyam looked at each other’s faces, shrugged their shoulders and walked towards her with straight shoulders. Their faces having a strange dignity, despite the fear. They stood on each side of Chintoo and all three faced her. The old lady brought her hand out as if ordering them to give back their loot to her. Shyam’s face looked longing towards the mangoes as he handed them over to the old lady. She shouldered it and walked into the house.

As she entered the house, she did a strange thing that endeared the orphans to her immediately. She looked back and smiled kindly at them and gestured that they come into the house. The three childish faces that had so much adult pain and despair in them, froze in shock as they looked at her. She smiled gaily at them, and walked in leaving the screen door wide open – an invitation louder than words.

The three looked at each other, but Chintoo made the decision when he slowly walked in and looked back. Shyam and Munni were afraid. They had seen more cruelty. But they, too, shrugged their shoulders and walked in. After all, they were hungry and the old lady was kind if not anything else. Once they entered the house, they saw an old man sleeping on his side. His face was towards them and they could see he was fast asleep and his chest rising and falling and his breath soughing through the air as he slept; unaware of the silent drama that was unfolding in front of his sleeping eyes. On the walls, the shelves were filled with old decorative items and there was a little dust hanging in there. Above enclosure on the wall, there was a photo of a young man hanging in there. He was laughing and looked a lot like the old woman and had a little bit of the old man on his face, too. There was a dried garland and a big red tikka on the glass that was over the forehead of the young man who looked about 30 – 35 years old. They stood bunched together awkwardly. They heard the old lady pottering around in the kitchen as the metallic pots pans and plates clashed around and she came through the door and asked them to come inside. As they entered, diagonally they saw a kitchen and to their right, was the dining table and it had 3 plates set on it. They were all heaped with food. The three saw nothing else. They just stood looking at the food. Then they all looked up at the old lady. She smiled at them and gestured them to eat. As they looked at her, she seemed to blur in their vision.

She came up to them and put her hand on the shoulders of the two elder children and led them over to the chair, and seated herself on one opposite them and simply waved her hand towards the food. Once the children sat down to eat, she gestured with her hand, asking them to wait as she went inside. The children looked at each other and continued to eat, relishing the pieces of mango that had been kept at the side and eating the wholesome rice, dal, sabzi and pickles that was a feast for their hungry bodies and souls.