Sorry for the Quick Service!

Some people just have it in them, they make you smile more and look at the world with hope. It was a regular Sunday morning and I was in a mood to have some udipi delicacies. The obvious choice is too obvious for any punekar.  So we headed to F.C road  had a brief unpleasant encounter at parking spot (Argumentative Indian, is so true, this lady possibly, short sighted put the car in parking while we were backing , claimed she was there before us on a one way ). But nothing, nothing could have spoilt my appetite that day.

We waited patiently like everyone does. At vaishali, if you are in a hurry, you can go elsewhere. Eating is like a ritual at this institution (it has its own personality and character; you will slip into its realms  effortlessly).

Effervescence of young, easiness of matured, experience of seniors and playfulness of children the place was filled with life.

We were walked to our table and were left in loving hands of our Lingappa. His mischievous eyes hid his age beautifully. He moved around with finesse of a seasoned dancer balancing the dishes, remembering every detail at every table. He acknowledged every single person in a unique way. So I was ‘Guddi’ for him! (I was embarrassed like hell and taken a back, is this our urban upbringing that is slowly alienating us from our surroundings and forcing us to put up false guard). But we humans are suckers for warmth, and we just melt away in no time…how nice.

He was quick and gracious. He marketed the food he was serving, he enticed the kids into eating their share, he nudged the young thin brigade into eating healthy and more. He kept us smiling with his witty remarks. And yet it was not intruding, we wanted him around. How did he achieve that in such a short time? How did he manage to enter our mind space and stay there for so long, or may be forever? I am sure there are many more Lingappas around ,in different walks of life, some we notice some we don’t . These beautiful souls who work relentlessly, leave their worries behind to bring that precious smile on our face. To all the Lingappas in the world, I salute. You simply rock.

Btw, the title of this post are words of Lingappa!!!

Unsung Lullaby

Tears rolling down the cheeks, un-controllable, un-explainable

It has its own mind, never mind 

Crying for the cradle in the shop window

Craving for my reflection in your eyes, my world

Affirmation of love in your small hands, my universe

I wait I wait, I wait some more

The unsung lullaby fades away

Hydrophobic Enema

‘Do not remove that, it’s the ONLY granule of coffee in there!’ I said, stopping my colleague from removing what looked like a BUG, and we burst out in laughter. 20 rupees for a cup???

We started walking towards the car park, Mumbai was still three hours away. The Sun was out in its full glory and we were dying to get into the comfort of our air-conditioned car unaware of what can only be beheld.

People, what do you think? a rather not so interesting observation, in every crisis, there is a victim furious and helpless, a culprit scared and regretful, a by- stander curious and bitchy, and an opportunist, getting all the mullah!

We passed the first row of cars, Oh! Who is that stranger under our car? Perfect situation for the alarm bells to go off. Our walk became brisk. I realized, this borrowed driver of mine had goofed up big time.

The tourist car drivers are a different breed, they do not smile, they do not acknowledge you, they do not listen to your instructions, they chew on some sweet smelling tobacco, they think every other vehicle on the road is a nuisance and every other driver is their competitor.

Before you read ahead, a trivia, how many men does it take to figure out a diesel car from petrol? Apparently 6 men and 1 woman!

Four reminders and in your face fluorescent yellow warning- DIESEL ONLY on the oil cap did not help. Our car was filled with 20 Litters of Petrol! Hell broke.

 Fireworks weren’t they. My senior colleague, whose car had just begun to go through a severe trauma, almost put all of us on GAS. With danger of sounding rude, I must confess his HINDI becomes incomprehensible with every word when he is angry. So I was defacto official spokesperson.

The crisis had mobilized me to get things in place everybody had taken up their positions and respective roles in the situation. Standing next to the car we were watching the theatricals of our hero, the mechanic. He would prance around and make a victorious noise with every ounce of petrol the car spilled out. After a grueling hour,  a brief dance of victory by the mechanic  the money talks began.

The pump manager, the petrol guy, driver, by-stander, the mechanic and two of us, enough to make a spectacle again. Since I was the official spokesperson, my colleague took charge of the wheel leaving me with 5 men to deal with.

The damsel in distress was on roll now, the mechanic turned pale when I said I would have been more impressed if he had lifted the car. The petrol guy gave in to my argument about how he shouldn’t allow people to light up his pants!

The war was over, our knight in shining armor had left on his scooter, the pump manager retreated to his cabin, the petrol guy had moved on to new car, the by-stander in search of another interesting episode, the driver was sitting tongue tied next to my colleague who took the wheels . The car had just been through what can be justly named 'A Hydrophobic Enema'...

I was sitting on the back seat smiling …don’t know why.

Khaya piya kuch nahi..gilas toda barah aana

‘Allah ke bandhey has de, allah ke bandhey, jo bhi hoga…’ that seemed to be theme for the evening of 5thmarch. After a grueling day I was still tolerable, all credit goes to Kailash Kher, who was to perform at an awards function of one of the management schools in pune. On the previous night ‘A VERY DEAR’ friend of mine handed over a pass for two for his performance, I was so thrilled. He is one of my favorites with true soulful voice of a sufi singer.

A very sweet and trusting friend said yes to me instantly, and both of us started looking for a white kurta to go with blue denims, for that was the dress code for the evening! We managed to rummage through our wardrobes and found something that could work.

My friend’s driver (rock star) is a neighbor’s delight, now you would wonder what is he doing in this story. Hold on, he has a major role to play. We started off he does not remember directions for nuts, he is always immaculately dressed in linen (we look underdressed in front of him), he smiles while you are holding on to your life and wears exotic flower perfume to numb your senses enough.

My headache was at its peak and I was wondering how am I going to survive the evening. We started of great covered more than half a distance discussing our post concert plan. I had a customary attendance at one of acquaintances birthday party. He had invited close friends around 200! Our man was now wondering which turn to take so we made two attempts to get into a ditch. A smart thought of asking the passersby stuck and we did so.

The venue was lit up and there was some activity going on the stage but whoa, where is the crowd? I said, what a undisciplined school. Its almost an hour into program and students have not turned up? No one asked us for passes, no one checked the dress code (there was no one around) we strode to the first row and occupied the middle seats to get a good deco of kailash my hero for that evening. The compeer was crowing (or was that the mike) a kathak performance started, it is customary to have less known artists before the main arrives we thought so. Suddenly there was shrill cry, where is the next girl? Why isn’t she here? You guys must take this seriously.

Now we were getting worried. Is he taking the audience for granted? This is supposed to be the back stage talk. My sweet friend looked at me with a BIG question mark. Sheepishly I suggeste, may be we should asked someone when the performance is going to start. By then two young lads had taken up seats next to us.

My sweet friend: hi, when is the show going to start?

Lad: (BIG SURPRISE ) actually mam, its tomorrow.

My sweet friend: (BIG EMBARRASMENT) this?

Lad: this is dress rehearsal.

A Burst of laughter, that was me, an apology, another loud laughter now from my sweet friend, we ran towards the exit. The rock star, felt superior to us idiots.

Once again we took wrong exit, and rock star promptly got down with his newly acquired supreme status and got the directions. There was big THUD. We looked through rear window a stout young man was vigorously waving and making animated gestures. Rock star got down, me followed. The stout man picked up his bike; we had dashed it while reversing. The damage was, a broken indicator and front guard. After some gentle negotiation we settled for Rs.500/- and started our journey back to the next program- the budday bash. Another, wrong turn into a temple but we made it to the lawns.

200 hundred young things, deafening music and aggressive dancing, this was enough to freeze us.

Me: Sorry

My sweet friend: he he he

Me: I think the voice on the mike is my acquaintances, the birthday BOY.

My Sweet friend: hmmm

Me: I do not dare to go towards stage

My sweet friend: ok

Me: May be we should just sit in the lawn and enjoy the pleasant breeze

After second shock therapy my sweet friend was slowly coming to senses. We chatted on growling stomachs. Waited patiently for the stage mania to get over. The patience got better of us and in half hour we were at the stage. There he was, wish him fast and run. No luck. We were made to sit RIGHT in front of the stage to witness young things performing one after the other on some strange songs. We clapped, stomach was still growling. We ducked and ran towards spice garden.

Food, get us food. Was I hallucinating the band of servers similar looking, I thought I must quickly eat. Knowing our collective appetite we ordered two starters. Second arrived when we were almost done and happy. My sense of humor kicked off, the fishy fish was not to be eaten, the server apologized.

Cute server: mam, this fresh, morning got from Bombay, I tasted also a bit.

Me: (shocked) you tasted? Eat all of that.

Cute server: (now very worried) mam, very little.

Me: (burst of laughter) when did I complain? just pack it.

Cute server: (very relieved) thank you mam.

We laughed some more. My headache was gone. My stomach was full, my sweet friend was happy. We strolled back home to sleep in our cozy beds.