Happy New Year!!!!!!

Wish you all a very Happy and a Prosperous NewYear... :)

Iyengar Bakery Blues

This incident happened somewhere in the late 80’s when I was 7 or 8 years old. We were regular customers of an Iyengar Bakery that was right across the street from our house. In those days, Iyengars owned most bakeries in Bangalore and most of them were invariably named Iyengar Bakery with a prefix like Hassan or some random initials. I distinctly remember the Owner of this Iyengar Bakery (I don’t remember if the bakery had a prefix attached to its name). He was a bald guy with a sizable paunch and was probably in his late 30’s or early 40’s. He was not one of your typical friendly neighbourhood storekeepers. Actually, I never saw him smile. His face expressed constant resentment (probably towards his occupation).

The Bakery had three stepped rows of glass containers (with steel lids) housing varied assortment of toffees, candies, biscuits and condiments arranged over a large display cabinet that contained cakes, pastries, puffs and loaves of different varieties of bread. A makeshift plywood wall separated the selling area and the baking area with the refrigerator located in the baking area.

One summer afternoon, I felt like getting myself a Popsicle. Back then we used to call them Lollies. Lollies were available in various flavours. My personal favorites were Cola and Strawberry. A regular Lolly cost 50 paisa and a Milk Lolly cost 75 paisa. After successfully pestering Mom to part with a 50 paisa coin, I crossed the road and got to the Bakery to treat myself a Lolly.

Me: Ondhu orange lolly kodi. (Give me an orange flavoured lolly)

At this point, there is no other customer at the Bakery and Owner is half-asleep. He opens his eyes and looks at me with visible annoyance. He then reluctantly gets up from his chair and drags himself to the baking area to get me a Lolly from the refrigerator. Meanwhile, I take out the 50 paisa coin and stretch out my right arm. The small guy that I was, my hand could only reach the second row of glass containers. My hand lands on one of those steel lids and makes a clinking sound.

Shopkeeper: Aey, yeno kadhitha idiya? (Aey, what are you stealing?)
Me: Naan yaake kadhili? Nanage yenadharu bekadhare, namma Appa athava Amma kodusthare. (Why should I steal? If I feel the need for something, my parents will buy it for me)

I paid him the money, took my Lolly and left. We stayed in the same house for another three years but that was my last visit to that Bakery.

HO HO HO!!! Christmas is here.

That was the subject line of the e-mail we received last week from the HR department asking us to participate in the “Secret Angels” game. It was really hard for me to control my laughter specially having recently read in TOI that a Santa working for a mall in Australia was fired for saying HO, HO, HO!!!. The bosses felt it was offensive and had sexual overtones as it sounded like one of the derogatory words used in American pop culture. Apparently, the bosses had asked him to say Hi, hi, hi!!! LOL

A merry Christmas and a happy New Year to the three and a half people who read this blog. :D

trying my hand at poetry

Earlier this year, I was trying really hard to come up with a decent piece of poetry. Eventually, one summer night I heard myself read out a beautiful verse in my dream. I woke with utter disbelief that I had come up with something that brilliant. Actually, I didn’t wake up. Ok, I did wake up but I didn’t get up from my bed because I’m a very lazy person who would never do something like that. I woke up the next morning and I didn’t remember a thing. Not even a word. Last night, it was déjà vu (probably inspired by TS' latest post). If only I had a PDA on my bedpost, one with a decent handwriting recognition software, I would've done the needful whilst lying on the bed. I was too lazy to switch on the lights (yes, there are two of them connected to a single switch) in the middle of the night and search for pen and paper. Ok, I wouldn’t have had to search for them because they are always on my bedpost. But I was too lazy to get up from my bed on a wintry night. You don’t have to be smart-ass and remind me that the first time it happened, it was actually summer. The bottom-line is I’m extremely lazy. Period.

Last July, I wrote this piece (of crap, if you wish), a few days before my grandfather passed away. I haven’t been able to write anything after that. No, his death has not emotionally scarred me (even though I was close to him). I’m just not able to write.

Tresses and waves
Surfers and dreamers
Cries of the unborn
Reborn gaiety

Confused men
Women in labour
Physical delirium
Mental manifestation

Charmers and snakes
Loners and crooners
Reticent music
Operatic dreams

Rainbow physics
Babies of boredom
A God’s orchestrated
Fall from grace

My first post

I have been lurking around the blogosphere for a while. Not long back, I had a blog with a lone post. Fortunately or unfortunately, I could not rescue it from literary oblivion.

After the demise of my last blog, I made a conscious decision not to blog until I was sure of being able to post on a regular basis (not that I was busy, I’m just lazy). I’m in my mid-twenties but when it comes to writing (and motorbikes), I’m old-school. The moment I sit in front of a computer screen with any kind of word processor staring at my face, I freeze. Give me some paper and a pen and I will write reams and reams of crap, but a blank document on a word processor window gives me the creeps. I think I suffer from selective writer’s block (apart from OCD). The worst (or should I say the best?) part is I’m paid (shortly, I’ll be paid obscene money) to sit and stare at blank documents all day long. Ok, I’m not paid to stare at blank documents, but to create documents with content and its not even funny that I haven’t created one in the last five months, which was the second most convincing reason (yes, I had to convince my boss) for changing my job. First being the obscene salary.