winding up - 4 (a hattrick of binge drinking)

The farewell went on for 3 nights.

On Wednesday, Rohan called up and I ended up at Legends of Rock (LoR). Two people, who were one of the first new friends I had made after coming to this city, had also come. The beer bomb came in and the music was softer than Heavy Metal. High on beer and a couple of large Smirnoffs, I was sitting behind Naman when the car hit us. I held my breath as he somehow managed to steer the shaking Bullet across the road and bring it to a halt. The leg guard had loosened and I felt a slight sting on my right foot but apart from that, everything was in one piece. For some reason in my mind I was singing Sing us a song, you're the pianoman....

Maybe alcohol does make you more alert.

Or maybe not.

Thursday and it was my treat to the office dudes. Along with another B-School-bound colleague. LoR it was again, owing to its proximity to Sidharth's, Ranchu's and my house. This time I didnt waste time on Kingfisher. So after tasting all the Belgian beers that they had (which were very different), we moved on to whiskey and vodka. I got really sloshed after drinking what I guess would be close to 10 pegs. Couple that with the occasional puff (yes, I do smoke a bit when I really want to get high!) and boy was I talking. In fact, everybody was talking. I thanked Pradeep for being the 'best team lead ever' and hugged Sidharth for making it such a memorable US trip. I finally told Prashant how uneasy I felt because of his calling me 'Sir' even though we were the same age. Oh, everybody was way too drunk. Pradeep made me promise him that I would come over to Minneapolis whenever he was there next. Let's see.

I sat beside Pradeep as we went to MG Road to look for more booze once LoR turned off the music and kicked us out at 11:30. The police caught us headed in the wrong direction in a One-Way. The alcohol meter went berserk as Pradeep inhaled and I had to cough up a thousand bucks. Back at Ranchu's place, I realized that I was drunk as dead. He laid the bed, I gulped down some tap water (he had run out of drinking water) and collapsed.

On Friday Shravan decided that I needed a farewell. And a unique one at that. The venue was Kyra and the band was Swarathma. We felt a little out of place in the beginning amongst the more elite looking crowd but as the drinks started to take their effect and the band started to up the tempo, we found ourselves enjoying. Quite boisterously at that. Anpadh was the loudest one amonst us. The bass player, Jishnu with his typical UP/Bihari accent provided the additional spark as people started turning around and looking at the 5 of us shouting at the top of our voice, clapping continuously to the rhythm and even trying to voice the lyrics as good as drunk 27 year olds could.

By the time it ended, we had done enough of shouting to make the percussionist come up to us and say, 'Thanks guys. You were louder than us!'. We also got hold of Jishnu and came to know that he was part of Bodhitree of GMD and Sabka Katega fame. A few ka bhaiya, kaisan ba later, we decided to head to Take 5. It was after all, only 10:30 and we needed to get high-er.

Jason Mraz's I'm Yours greeted us at Take 5. Rohan and I had reached earlier so we ordered drinks for everybody else before the bar closed. 4 large 100 Pipers and 1 large Absolut. Rohan had gone crazy. I've never seen him gulp down neat whiskey at such pace. He didn't even bother about putting a few ice cubes. Upon my request, John Mayer's Say started playing and we ordered a repeat of the drinks. As is the norm, people got a little senti and started talking about the days gone by and the things we will miss. In spite of all the alcohol and all the music, I knew that I was leaving behind the best place I've lived in and a wonderful bunch of guys. People with whom there are no inhibitions. With whom you never have to wonder if you have been misunderstood or taken out of context. Who have the same sense of humour as you and a similar taste in rock n roll. And even though I am the only vodka drinker, that was hardly a problem ever.

I drove the bike as Rohan clinged on to me. In hindsight, I'm glad that after 20 meters he realized that he was in no state to take us home. I was drunk too. More than ever, I might say. Perhaps that's what got us home. I was too alert!

When everything in life comes with an expiry tag - the last drink, the last get-together, the last concert; my feelings towards each of them tend to be ambivalent at best. To me, it's these moments of delight that shine through when you look back at your life. To use the cliche, you hardly remember the grades you got in college or the projects you worked in your job. And as sure as I am to trade this life for something which would be a different world altogether, I know that a good part of me would be what I was in these last three years. A lot of what I become from hereon, would be thanks to the life I've led here.

To my friends in this city with whom I have shared all the joys and disappointments of my life, till we meet again - cheers and keep the music playing.

Last Week

There's so much to write about. But I don't seem to have the patience nowadays. So here goes another of my incoherent posts.
Last weekend, particularly Sunday, was great. Two friends came over from Delhi. Another couple arrived from Hyderabad. One in Bangalore shifted base to our house for three days. No we didnt go out of town on a trip or something. There was a lot of alcohol, insane amounts of hostel/college/life-ke-funde talks over mugs of beer or cups of tea. We had a blast doing nothing.

Sunday started with a breakfast of idli vada and filter coffee. Back home we took turns playing fastest fingers with the TV remote and then finally decide to go for a 4 o'clock show of Jannat.
With eight people giving a running commentary, Jannat turned out to be fun. A typical Bangalore evening greeted us as we got out of the hall. We decided to give our non-Bangalorean friends a taste of Purple Haze.
7 people downed 11 pitchers of beer as we drank from 7:30 to 11. To say that the Residency Road PH is so much better than the Koramangala one would be an understatement. Neil Young, Nirvana, Doors, Floyd, Maiden, Clapton... they played pretty much every thing and the others that I couldn't recognize; even they seemed terrific as we got high. The three smokers in our group finished around twenty cigarettes in the meantime. Next day one of my friends from Delhi said that the music Did get to him even though he hardly listens to Rock. Purple Haze, had lived up to its reputation.

The guys started leaving by Monday evening and from Tuesday it was back to work. Four days of no office, no MBA stuff. Yes, there were periods when I talked about the more important stuff going on in our lives with my friends. Catching up, sharing details. But it was more of a let out than anything else. We were happy to have made this little reunion.

90 kmph on MG Road

It's 4:45 in the morning. I haven't slept at all. Long Island Tea maybe. I put on my jeans and jacket, take my helmet and go out.

It's still dark although the city has just about started to wake up. The trucks on the Ring Road, the small roadside shacks which are beginning to open, a few early morning joggers. There is a bite in the air as I pull up the zipper of my jacket and put on my helmet. The neon lights of the huge office complexes and the LEVI's showroom seem scary, trying to disturb the calm of the dawn.

No tooting of horns on Airport Road. Taxis and autos lined up near the arrival and departure. SPOT taxis carrying people. People going out to unwind. People coming back home after an exhausting week. I look up as an aeroplane is about to land. It's still dark.

I reach MG Road but only manage to touch 80. The metro construction has made the road narrower. As the first signs of the morning begin to show, I am circling the Ulsoor Lake. I stop for a while to take a walk around its periphery. People running, stretching, walking. I get back on my bike and head towards MG Road again to try and hit 3 figures. I fall ten short though and that too for only about a couple of seconds. The cuts are too many and the risk of a sudden vehicle appearing from behind the construction is too much for me. I give up, satisfied nevertheless and turn towards Cubbon Park. The park is very green and quiet but I don't stop.

The lights of the Chinnaswamy Stadium rear up their head above everything else in the vicinity. Bangalore doesn't have many skyscrapers though. I look at my watch. It's almost 6:30. I head back to Koramangala. The city is awake now. I have tea near my house and call up my parents. Ma is worried that something is wrong. I tell her that her son just has these crazy ideas now and then and she believes me. I'm still not feeling sleepy. I think I'll read my book.

The Way Back Home

The last few weeks have been very hectic as far as work is concerned. Late nights have become more the norm than the exception. And frankly speaking, I can't say I dislike it. Well, it could be because of my otherwise not so happening evening life or just the fact that this is a change from the usual. It might as well be the feeling that I am actually doing something which would directly or indirectly benefit me somewhere down the line. But no, this post is not about my experience in the software industry which by the way is nearing a year. That, will have to wait for a few days more.

The six kilometer stretch of road that brings me home from my office is one of the best in Bangalore. The road is wide and the traffic relatively less at any time of the day. So at around half past 10 when I hit the Outer Ring Road and put my bike to full throttle, the ride is enormously enjoyable. The smooth traffic allows me to touch speeds of 90 kmph on a regular basis and add to it the chill in the air especially if it has rained in the evening; and you have a 7-8 minute ride that robs you of your weariness of the day. It's one time of the entire day that I am completely living the moment without thinking of the past or the future. I hum along a few songs and at times even sing them at the top of my voice while racing past other vehicles on the way.

It's not that I have something very exciting waiting for me upon my arrival. Yet, the prospect of having a laugh with my flatmates, reading a bit, spending some time with my guitar and ringing up family and friends, makes me feel at peace with myself.

I can't help but reminisce about the time I used to make a similar journey back from school to my home on a cycle along with my friends. During the morning sessions before the summer vacations, school got over at around 1 o' clock and we would come home licking the 25 paise or 50 paise 'ice creams' that we bought in front of the school gate. Holding it in one hand and balancing the cycle with the other, we often rode our cycles at full speed to be able to catch some live action from the Sharjah Cup. There would be nothing, not even the scorching heat or the loo, which would slow us down during those times. Our orange coloured hands and tongue would bear testimony to the fun we had had. During the regular sessions when classes got over at 3:30, the ride would be more sedate. We went along discussing the happenings of the day, the latest affairs in school, cricket and what not. Since my house was the farthest away from school, I had to part company at some point and travel the last kilometer long stretch alone. I remember us stopping at the last junction (my friend's house) and chatting for a good 10-15 minutes before finally leaving for home. It really used to get tiring during the summers especially since the last bit was mostly uphill. But I knew that I had my prize waiting in the form of watermelon slices and mango shake kept in the fridge and at times dahi-chuda with gud. Ma would be waiting for me in the balcony with the keys to the garage where I kept my cycle and that was such a pleasing sight. She could make out my arrival merely by the sound of the gate. She said she could distinguish between the sound I made and that made by others! In later years, the scooter replaced the cycle and I became more reluctant on eating something after coming back but the pleasure of coming back home, coming back to your Ma waiting for you; well, that remained unchanged.

It's about comfort and a sense of belonging that makes the ride back home special. Whether it's to your waiting mother, or to a shared flat with friends or even a single room that you call your own. It's a journey that seldom has any surprises in store for us but one which comes with an assurance. An assurance of going back to the place you know, to the people you know. An assurance that another day has gone by. An assurance that a new one would soon begin.

Salpa Leftu, Salpa Rightu!!

Auto Rickshaws. How I hate them since I came to Bangalore and particularly after I bought my Apache. I didn't particularly hate them in Delhi. In spite of their demanding Rs 40 from the hostel gate to Chanakya and ultimately coming down to 20, I was OK with them. After all I didn't have much of a choice. Bangalore, though is totally different. Here's why.....



1) If you are in Koramangala, (quite a posh locality if you know Bangalore) they wont go to MG Road (the heart of Bangalore) and vice versa. Why? Hmm... my best bet so far is they don't like my face. On an average it took about six or seven attempts to get one to go from MG Road to my home in Koramangala after office and the way they refused was awesome. Some didn't even bother to reply and simply went ahead as if nothing had happened. Some stopped, looked at you and said nothing and only when you asked them the second time did they make the slightest to and fro horizontal motion of the head. Others said no with an expression in their face that would almost make you feel ashamed of wanting to go there. And the best one (this happened while house hunting); one slowed down almost to a stop, we ran after it, it picked up speed and went away. Attitude personified.



2)They start demanding night rates about an hour or more before they are supposed to and often do not come down beyond Rs 10 extra. Ask them the reason and they will say.."Sir, 10 ruphiya extra dene me kya jaatha hai ... "



3)There's no pollution control here, no CNG. Instead, all autos run on LPG emitting a lot of smoke and making a lot of noise. To add to it nobody turns off their engines at signals even when the signal has a timer attached. So for a biker (or worse a cyclist, which I was for a few days), these signals become hell.



4)And the most interesting part is their extreme unpredictability and unmatched maneuverability. On the road the only vehicle more dangerous than an Auto is an empty Auto. You never know how or when or why he is going to stop or change his speed. He may be ambling along at 30 kmph in front of you and suddenly decide to stop for no reason in particular. He may be at the extreme left of the road on a traffic signal and yet decide to take a U-Turn. He may suddenly decide to change lanes in order to get ahead by 5 meters. And if you are on a cycle or bike he pays scant regard to the fact that he may hit you while overtaking.



By the way, in case you didn't get the title, Salpa is Kannada for a little, "thoda" , and thats the way these vehicles run on the roads of Bangalore. But why bother, "Salpa adjhust madi!" (this phrase is not mine, but I liked it very much upon seeing it in an article yesterday)

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Hello Bangalore

Act 1, Scene 1
Me: I was calling to inquire about the 3 BHK house in Koramangala......
Voice on the other side(VOTOS): Are you Bachelors?
Me: Ya , 4 of us
VOTOS: .....
Me: OK sorry for bothering you..
Act 1, Scene 2
Me: I was calling to inquire about the 3 BHK house in Levelle Road....
VOTOS: OK...the rent is 25 K with 10 month deposit
Me: Ah.. that's a bit high for our budget...Thanks anyway..
Act 1, Scene 3
Agent: Aap phele house dekhega to immediate lega ....bahut achcha .. independent duplex house... 2 Kms from MG Road...
The house turns out to be around 6 Kms from MG Road.


I have always wanted my life to be eventful. To have experiences which can be remembered forever. A month into Bangalore, that wish has been pretty well taken care of by the powers that be. Office has been pretty normal so as to say with the usual process of induction, training, getting to meet new people and doing other routine jobs. It's the weekends and the time spent commuting between office and home that has been the flavour of the month.

Imagine two fresh engineering graduates with a decent paying job and families to support them financially, roaming in MG Road (if you have been to Bangalore you would know what it is) with a total amount of Rs 40 in their pockets, unsure of where to sleep at night. On top of that one of them had lost his wallet a couple of days ago so has no debit/credit card and the other has the good old SBI ATM card, a memento from the student days gone by, which, true to its character acquired over 5 years, boasts of a princely amount of Rs 43. It's as pathetic and hilarious as it can get, both at the same time. Yes, this was my friend and me. That we managed to call up our friend and had the most expensive dinner in Bangalore till date is another story.

Commuting in Bangalore at peak office hours can be a frustrating and humiliating experience and to add to that when you don't have you own home and are staying at your friend's friend's (yeah that's not a typo!) house for well over a fortnight, which is about an hour's bus/cab/auto drive from your office, things tend to get a bit edgy. As a result, simple things like arriving home in 20 minutes instead of the 45 or so, dishing out only Rs 20 instead of the usual 36 brings immense pleasure and satisfaction.

And yet amongst all these seemingly frustrating and unnerving experiences there's always that dinner with friends at an open air restaurant designed like a beach with sand and the sound of the surf with one Raja playing "ajeeb daastan hai ye..." on his mouth organ and guitar (yes both at the same time !) and then singing "Wonderful Tonight" which makes you realise what a fine balance this life actually is.

"A Time To Make Friends"..said the huge banners in Germany and even here in Bangalore new acquaintances were being made both in the office and the at places I stayed in, some of which soon turned to friendships.

But all these incidents take a backseat when it comes to the real adventure. One which has been going on for the last three weekends and at times splilling over to weekdays too....House Hunting.

3 BHK, close to MG Road, close to Bannerghatta Road, good house, good locality (you know what I mean by good locality !), within our budget, splitting of the 10 month deposit into two parts and no landlord interference. The list of parameters to be satisfied was long and so was the search for the perfect house. Project "Bangla Mile Nyara" started with two people and moved from strength to strength as more members joined in the search. There were close to a score of houses seen, in heat and dust, in rain and wind, some at places where you can't differentiate between the road and the two drains on either side of it when it pours, travelling by bike, car, foot and mostly by auto rickshaws, getting so fed up of paying Rs 12 (the minimum fare) to the auto driver (some of whom swear by the name of Baba........ Rajnikanth to the the average Indian!) that you almost wished for a Rs 12 currency note to be introduced by RBI for this very purpose, standing at crossroads like vagabonds with the Eicher Bangalore map, pen, cell phone, Ad Mag and Free Ads spread around, alternately looking at the newspaper and the map to ascertain the location of the house, ringing up agents and landlords repeating the same starting sentences, circling up entries in the paper and then crossing them out as house after house falied to pass our stringent requirements; Project "Bangla Mile Nyara" was living up to its hype.

There's a lot more to write about, a lot more to think but for now let's leave it at that.

Act 2, Scene 1
Us: So can the deposit be split into 2 equal halves.....
Landlord: hmm.. OK that won't be a problem....
Me (to agent): Can we pay the commission after we get our salary
Agent: OK... boss theek hai..

Meanwhile somebody calls up from above: Yaar terrace mast hai .. dekh jaa aa ke....

Us (to Landlord): So we will come tomorrow to sign the documents...

Hello Bangalore................

A New Life

As I boarded the B'lore bound Jet Airways flight from Dum Dum airport, Kolkata, with the tickets of 2 more between B'lore and Delhi already booked, two thoughts kept me occupied: 1) had France managed to qualify for the 2nd round to give Zizou one last shot at glory & 2) the lines from the song "Thoda Paisa" by Aghosh "..jahan bhi jaenge, jaenge flight se aha, are aha. Aur Sunday manaege Friday night se haan.....". Viera and Henry made sure that the talismanic Zidane gets another chance and later the perennial underachievers Spain made sure that Sunday will see a repeat of the '98 finals between the favourites, who are yet to show their Samba Magic to full effect and a team which has somehow managed to scrape through with most of their players in the twilight of their career.

It's been 5 days since I landed in B'lore after having a fortnight's break with my parents in Bokaro which followed a momentous event in my life; that of my completing my final project, graduating and becoming an engineer, the reason for my hiatus from blogging. I have always been a here, now kind of a guy. Future plannings, setting long term goals, looking ahead are things which I am seldom able to comprehend though I tend to think about them a lot. So as I stand at a crossroads of my life, I find myself at a totally alien environment, that of the software industry, in a city which is fast loosing its charm to outsiders though the weather is still awesome especially if you happen to come from Delhi, unsure of what I want, unsure of the course of my life in the next one year, hoping to find my true calling. It's a big jolt to say the least. Make no mistake though, I am neither worried nor sad. It's just that things haven't yet fallen into place for me here. Instead of the twenty odd familiar faces that I used to see everyday, now I see only one, the 3 to 12 sleeping schedule has given way to a 3 (Thank God there is the World Cup) to 9 one. Office is mostly boring and banal. The guest house is pretty impressive and most importantly has a TV. The soccer has been dramatic though predictable and is destined to get better in the final stages with the prospects of a Ger-Bra or Arg-Bra Finale. Krissh turned out to be more melodrama than super hero so hopefully Superman Returns soon.

The fortnight long vacation with my parents was spent packing my wardrobe with formal wear or cotton casuals as the brand would name them, replacing my 4 year old 3310 with a flashy one with camera and radio and what not (I don't remember the model number) and mostly basking in the glory of becoming a graduate, trying to fathom the reason why my parents were so happy when I hadn't done anything more than allowing things to take their own course. Somehow I knew things are going to be very different and it was a time to let go. Let go of not washing yourself or your clothes till God knows how long, let go of living day in day out with lots of people and noise around you, let go of familiar places, let go of your Dad's money, let go of your lifestyle for the last 5 years. Suddenly the proud and spontaneous answer to an elderly gentleman's query or a lady's with two beautiful daughters in a train to "Kya karte ho beta...." had changed to a very everyday and commonplace just another face in the crowd types. It was time to let go of student life and take a step towards the professional one. Meanwhile I also had counselling sessions with two more new entrants to the college I left and the hopes and aspirations of the boys as well as their families were so akin to those of mine and my parents' half a decade (wow that seems long!) ago that it almost seemed I was doing it all over again.

So here I am, in the garden city trying to find my footing (and more importantly a house!), waiting for more friends to arrive in mid July to lend a bit more familiarity to this place, hoping also that the next blog is not this bad and random.