Kon’nichiwa, minna-san!
Well, gotta admit, it’s been quite long since I wrote actually. Not that I was too busy, just that there wasn’t really much scope to put stuff I always wanted to write down on text. Anyway, not much to write about, as always. Hmm..let’s see…
This week’s been absolutely brilliant. The amount of mad stuff that happened is just too crazy to be possibly true. You’d think I was nutters if I told you, but as someone told me, I don’t need to tell you anything to arrive at the same conclusion anyway. Let’s see – fishing for a contact lens for a half hour in my wash-basin, samba dancing outside the washroom (while my bladder gave signs to do the boom thingy) while the lady inside was putting on make-up (oh yeah, this is the first time I’ve seen corporate mixed-gender toilets too), a zonked out mobile, a mini auto accident, broken spectacles, mad amounts of work and two bouts of migraine. Well, if you’re positively not howling mad at me for doling out depressing stuff, here go the pluses – am going home! (again) Booked tickets and all that too. Apart from that, if you call chumming up to my mama for the heck of it, well, that’s a plus. And …. Well, saw a nice anime series. The Getbackers. More on that later though.
Buses.
These are the single creation of man which signaled loads of things to happen – well, if we’re talking about what happens inside it though, they get to become interesting. A pretty much everyday experience goes like….
Scrrrrrrreeeeeeeeeeeeeech.
The bus driver never really gets it, does he? If he should stop at a bus-stop it doesn’t necessarily mean the place where the cluster of irritating females are gathered. I actually hate the way we males are forced to don the Gladiator getup everyday to get on to the darned buses for a precious seat, while the women come and say “eeeye, ladies ka seat hai. Utho naaaa”. Like we give a baboon’s behind about the darn seat. Ofcourse we hand it over, but not really without emotion.
Oh yeah, the conductor.
I once read someone’s opinion about this character called “The Fretful Employee”. Bus conductors are necessarily an example to the above species.
Not a single bugger I’ve seen till date who’s a conductor has any traces of civilized manners. The marathi guys here are especially primate. Their low-wavelength high frequency voices – more like a yelp, but, you know, not quite it. Imagine this.
Start howling. Then lower your voice. Then imagine being poked in the behind with a safety (or well, not so safe) pin. The resulting change in voice pattern would throw considerable light on a conductor’s vocal demeanour. A typical conversation would go something like:
“AAaaaaaa….ticket kuthe geliye?”
(Probably, where’s the ticket? Meaning, take a ticket if you don’t have one. Wonder which sense of grammar permits such horrendous usage, but well, fuck)
“Ek Vashinaka ke liye”
“Aaa?”
(They’re all goddamn deaf. They can NEVER hear anything right the first time)
“Vashinaka”
“Chutta dhedho”
(Gimme change)
“Nahin hai”
(Sorry, dude, don’t have any)
“Tho bus kaiku chade ho, saala?”
(Why the fuck did you get on to the bus, you bastard?)
And before you realize it, there’s a ring or two and the bus halts, and you’re thrown off the bus. So, bhaiyon and beheno, don’t get onto a Mumbai bus without an inflammable temper or change.
Ever asked a Mumbai guy, “How far is place-one from place-two?”
If you didn’t, do it, and you’d get an interesting answer. Most commonsensical answers go like:
“Twenty miles” – English/American whatever – the Goras.
“Seeeeedha kheencho aajayenga” –
“Fucked if I know” – IITian.
But then this is slightly weird. The answer would typically go like:
“Bees minat”
“Place-three se niklega tho das minat mein hi pahunchega”
Well, either these guys have really been taught Kinematics by a zebra with a fitful imagination or their sense of travel is totally demented. It is, actually. Time is money, was the answer I got from one of the chicks on the road, to whom I posed this baffling irony. K
Found though that I’ve been living almost “contently” these days. Signs of danger. It’s actually a terrible irony. If I’m used to it and coping it with it, then I’m “not aiming high” or “stagnating”. If I’m not used to it, I’m “cribbing”. Very big deal.
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