May 31, 2010

kiruku को हो गया साल चार!!!

सुनो सुनो मेरे यार
बताऊंगा नहीं मैं बार बार
इसलिए कान खोलके सुन लो बराबर
जो मैं लाया हूँ इतनी अच्छी खुश खबर
kiruku को हो गया साल चार!!!

नहीं चाहिए हमें बंगला या car
बस भेजो अपना डेर सारा प्यार
और अगर घर आओगे मेरे भाई
तो मिलेगा एक cup गरम चाय
kiruku को हो गया साल चार!!!

जो इसे बुरा बोलेगा उसे गोली मार
और उसे पहनाओ चप्पल का हार
अपुन का funda है एक दम साफ़
हम नहीं भूलते ना ही करते माफ़
kiruku को हो गया साल चार!!!

नाम है SRK लेकिन नहीं हूँ filmstar
सच बोलूँ तो हूँ आज कल बेकार
पर चाहे जितना भी आ जाए काम
मैं लिखूंगा हर weekend को शाम
kiruku का होगा और साल चार!!!

तो दोस्तों गाओ, "तुम जियो हज़ारों साल...
और तुम पटाओ dhinchak maal
Happy Birthday, Happy Birthday, Happy Birthday Kiruku!
PS1: Woo Hoo! I can rhyme in Hindi too!

PS2: And I now know how to use transliterate in Blogger!

PS3: And I still write crap :D

May 14, 2010

The Loser...

He sat there like a statue. Absolutely motionless, with his elbows on the table and chin resting on his palms. Burrowed in deep thought. Staring at the 64 squares in front of him. Calculating whatever little he could.

He dared not look up. The last time he did, he was lost in her big, brown eyes and lovely hair. And the really cute way in which her fingers kept rearranging a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. All his calculations had gone for a toss. Thank goodness, he had lost only a pawn. He was still a piece up.

Focus. Focus. You can't lose. Not to this one. Not after being a piece up.

A few silent minutes passed by. He moved his knight to the sixth rank. Now, the centre was in control. "Always control the centre", he remembered his Periappa's words.

A tentative pawn was pushed. "Draw pannikalama?", a sweet voice cooed. And a slender hand was extended. Let's end this stupid game and be friends, it seemed to say. He was tempted to give up half a point just to hold that hand once.

But he shook his head. And continued to stare at the stupid board. And put his bishop on the long diagonal.

And sat back in shock. The queen made an unexpected, valiant move forward. He felt something brush against his knee. At first, he thought his mind was playing some trick on him. But no, it was definitely a foot. It was gone, but he was shaken. The queen was getting too close for comfort. He doubled his rooks.

The queen retreated. Her attack foiled before it even started.

He wiped his brow. He was sweating profusely.

And then he saw it. Out of nowhere. A rook sacrifice leading to mate in four. The question was, "will she take the bait?". He continued staring at the board, oblivious to the fact that his clock was ticking, moving slowly towards the red flag. He wanted to be dead sure. After a few calculations, he made his move.

He dared to look up now, so cocksure was he of his calculations. He saw her big eyes bulge wider in surprise. And in one smooth motion, the hand moved, took the rook, banged the clock and was now twirling the rook triumphantly between its fingers. He could see a hint of a smile on her face. After being a piece down for a major part of the game, she seemed happy to get back on par.

"Absolute novice. Good, I didn't lose to her. Would have been difficult to forgive myself", he thought to himself.

Four moves later, her king was staring at a rook on the back rank, imprisoned by the very pawns that had formed a protective castle around him so far.

He extended his hand with the fake "well played, better luck next time" that all players there did. She ignored his hand, pinned him with a split-second sharp glance, turned and walked away. "Poetry in motion", was all he could think as he forged a girlie signature on the score sheet to take it to the arbiter as proof of his victory.

"How could you take that rook? Are you blind, you stupid girl?", he heard a sharp voice as he was about to turn a corner towards the drinking water filter outside the playing hall. He stopped, and even though he hated to eavesdrop, he listened on. "Makku, makku, ippidi velayadradhuka unna ivlo kaasu kuduthu coaching ku anupchen?", the sharp voice continued. ("Fool, I paid so much money to send you for coaching and you play like this?")

Snif, snif, he heard a familiar voice choke back tears. And before he could react, father and daughter walked around the corner, and he saw those big eyes, with long moist eyelashes, narrow at him with a hateful glare again. A split second later, they turned pitiful as more sharp words rained on.

And that day in 1996, at an obscure under-15 district chess tournament in Periyanaickenpalayam, he realized how sometimes, winning can still make you feel like an absolute loser.

May 8, 2010

Every beginning is the end of something else...

She sat back with a loud sigh. Of relief. And more importantly, admiration. The house looked good. Magnificent, one might say. Of course, one shouldn't flatter oneself too much.


He sat back with a loud sigh. Of exhaustion. And more importantly, relief. The house looked er... ok. Not inhospitable, one might say. Of course, one shouldn't demean one's effort too much.


Heaven knows she had worked hard for this. From finding the right location. To running round and round in circles. And dodging multiple obstacles through it all. Completing this house had taken a lot out of her. Drained her out, so to say. But the hours and hours of effort was worth it. No doubt about it. When you really enjoy what you do, time does fly fast!


Hell, he knew he hadn't worked too hard for this. All it took was finding the right location. And some running around in circles. Ok, some dodging of obstacles now and then. But, completing this house had taken a lot out of him. Drained him out, so to say. And the half an hour of effort was hardly worth it. No doubt about it. When you really hate what you do, every minute seems like an hour!


And now she was done. She could sit back and relax. And dream of a wonderful life. A good partner. Lots of kids. Energetic little ones, she could already visualize them running around. Ah, the house was the first step, but the toughest. That accomplished, the rest would simply fall in place.


And he was not yet done. He couldn't sit back and relax. Boy, life is crappy. Even when you are alone. Even without any pesky kids. Hyperenergetic little imps, he could already visualize them messing around. Ah, the house was the first step, and the easiest. And even that incomplete, the rest would take forever.


OH MY GOD!!! She couldn't believe it!!! Not now!!! But it was too late. Her house lay in ruins, in front of her eyes. What had once been a piece of art now lay in shatters. And in the midst of all the dust and rubble around her, she breathed her last...


OH MY GOD!!! He couldn't believe it!!! Not ever!!! But it was too late. His house lay spic and span, in front of his eyes. What had once been in shatters now looked like...ok, not exactly a piece of art, but still... And without all the dust and rubble around him, he inhaled deeply...

... and picked up his phone, "Amma, I finally dusted the house... yeah, even I can't believe I did it... even cleared all the cobwebs"...

May 2, 2010

Cities are people too...

This is one idea that has been brewing in my head for quite some time, and since it links nicely with my previous post, I thought I might as well get on with this...

My first impression of Indian cities, as I see them...

Bombay is definitely a lady. And a quite mature one. But still, one who hasn't lost her sensuality. Quite multi-faceted, she can charm you just like that. And boy, is she rich? Problem is, she knows it, and bigger problem is, she can make you feel it. As and when she chooses to. You can spend a lifetime with her and still feel she has something new to offer. And since I have spent all my adult life in Bombay, I am a little biased towards her. Ok, more than a little.

Delhi is a father figure. Knows he lords over others, knows he has power, and shows he can wield it whenever he wants to. He has extreme moods, now blowing hot and now blowing cold. His face is lined with marks, each a monument hinting at a rich history. But, he retains some vanity of his looks, which leads to him to get image makeovers every now and then, which makes part of his face look far younger than the rest. Somewhat like a grey haired man with a black beard.

Gurgaon, is Delhi's brash young son. All muscle, pumping iron to look good, gelled slick hair and tight tees. An intellectual jyana shoonyam, bereft of any culture, facing deep insecurity problems, but thinking he can take over from Daddy anytime. I have no hope he'll grow up into anything worthwhile.

Calcutta is the uncle everyone seems to have. Had a glorious past, before being upstaged by younger upstarts. Now spends his time sitting back and reminiscing about lost culture, and whining about the modern world. Has a misplaced sense of superiority, especially about all things intellectual, cultural and culinary. And is deeply passionate about sports, though he can't play them half as well as he thinks. Secretly, hates all kinds of physical activity, being unusually lazy. And doesn't mind being called lazy. Essentially, a good person to get to know and talk to, but make sure you know when to scoot off before he begins one of his tirades on... oh, well, any topic under the sun.

Chennai is a girl in her twenties. One who was brought up very conservatively, but who is now beginning to explore the world. And is increasingly testing the limits laid down by her upbringing. Thus, she practices her Bharatanatyam by day and her salsa at the disco by night. Supremely talented, highly intelligent but with extremely low self-confidence. Can't take an iota of criticism without feeling unduly hurt. And oh, speaks a language which no one can understand. Except herself. Which makes it all the more special, apparently.

Bangalore is the younger sister of Chennai. A teenager who suddenly has been pushed into the limelight, as if she won a reality show or something. Probably why she abandoned her long tresses and went bald. And who has physically grown up so fast that her dresses from yesterday no longer seem to fit. And while she secretly enjoys the attention that she gets, especially from the boys, she pretends to get all sensitive about culture and morality.

PS1: Disclaimer: I haven't lived in any of these cities, except Bombay. So, these are essentially impressions gained from meeting people who have lived there, and fleeting glances from those 1-2 day visits. So, people who are residents of these cities may feel free to vehemently disagree. In fact, I'd be surprised if they don't.

PS2: I'd love to spend time to get to know these cities better, and would too, hopefully. Except Gurgaon. That's one place I can't stand.