What If I Get Married To A Foreigner?

If you are a college student then you would probably agree with me that you love and hate your summer vacations at the same time.

You eagerly await your vacations because it gives you a chance to be at home full time, enjoy the delicacies prepared by your mother, relax and live life as you want albeit, the usual restrictions at home. But you also eagerly wait for the vacations to get over simply because an able bodied person cannot just simply sit at home and idle away his time. You miss the fast paced life at college, the boring lectures, the buzzing canteen and the bindaas hostel life.
 

Hmmm...so getting bored at home I decided to go to Bengaluru for the weekend. Saturday was spent meeting my college friends who were interning at Shell and Sunday was spent visiting both of my aunts who lived in Bengaluru. On Monday I returned home.
 

While returning home, as I sat near the bus window with my eyes wandering in the lush green fields I recollected how I had similar conversations with both of my aunts. I remembered one of my aunts telling me about arrangements for her daughter who is going to the U.S. next month for her P.H.D. While my other aunt told me about how her elder son, who is already doing his P.H.D. in Germany was doing.
 

So, with both my elder cousins set to go abroad for higher studies the next in the firing line was me. I shall either be expected to land a hefty job(which i don’t see happening b’coz i hate mining) or  tread the same path like them after two years(If I don’t clear the CAT this year). I tried to steer my mind clear of these futuristic thoughts for I know one thing for sure,  whatever I shall plan shall never happen.
 

With nothing much to do other than seeing half the bus sleeping you cannot help but allow your mind to have random thoughts. I chuckled to myself as I thought about the side-effects of one going abroad for higher studies. What If one of my cousins or me for that matter went abroad and fell in love with a foreigner? To further complicate the matter got married to her?
 

With inter-caste marriages only looked down upon in my family marrying a foreigner would be a catastrophe!  I could not help smiling to myself and imagine my life post my marriage to a foreigner!
 

So here is a brief account of the problems I would face...

1)Firstly, even though my parents are fairly open minded I don’t think they would be open to this kind of stuff. I shall be blamed endlessly for reducing to ashes the name of our family.

2)Secondly, all my relatives would go Ga-Ga! Over the matter, for if and when I meet them their eyes would stare at me asking why?  Aren’t there enough girls in India?

3) Thirdly, since most of the food available abroad is Non-Veg, my wife would not know a damn thing about cooking Indian Vegetarian food. So all hopes of my wife cooking delicious food for me shall be buried. (Even though she can learn it, she will never be as good as my mom).    

4)Then, there will be the language problem between her and my not so modern relatives. I shall be ousted from the Hindu-Brahmin Community for having flawed the rules(as if I care)
 

5) As long as I shall live in India I shall have to contend with my fellow countrymen staring at me and asking OMG! Are they a married couple?

6)I don’t want to bore you by bringing out the religious and cultural differences. But, for an example imagine my foreigner wife, just out of the bed at 9 in the morning wearing noodle-strap top coming in the way of my mom going to perform her Tulsi Puja. I can’t imagine my mom’s face red with anger and she blurting out SHIVA! SHIVA!
 

7) Last but not the least I can’t help but laugh at imagining our kids...would they be Black or White?...But surely if racism exists in that period they shall be subjected to that... Aah My poor Kids!

P.S. Don't worry all Indian Girls...My priority for you is higher than them :P

  

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The Most Beautiful Game!!!

It was the summer of 1998 and I was 8 years old then. We had recently moved into the O.N.G.C. colony in Sibsagar, Assam. I had just returned from school and was in a playful mood. I picked up the remote and tuned into one of the sports channels. What I saw on T.V. then, still has a lasting impression in my memory even today.

On the screen was ‘Zizou’ the mid-field maestro from France performing his trademark ‘Zidane Spin Move’. The one in which he spins, fakes, cuts, tricks and turns while juggling the ball. He executed the move with such elegance, grace and timing that I was left spell bounded. As it must have happened with so many young kids at that time…I too had become a ‘Zizou fan’.

By evening I was at my dad’s side asking him to get me a football. Within two days I had my own football and was out in the park trying to do a ‘Zidane move’. Despite my earnest efforts I was only as good at it as an infant is in taking his first steps! The 1998 FIFA World Cup gave me the first taste of the ‘Most Beautiful Game’.

Since then four years had passed. My dad had been transferred and we had moved to Rajahmundry, A.P.  I had got lost in the cricket mania and almost forgot that a game called football actually existed. Playing cricket with my school friends was one of the top priorities of the weekend. (Oh Gosh I miss those days so badly!!!)

But the 2002 FIFA World Cup revived my fond memories. Thanks to a certain ‘Ronaldo’ and a certain ‘Beckham’ the passion in me was reignited.  Watching Ronaldo perform those bamboozling step-over’s and Beckham smash those curling free kicks into the back of the net gave me a different kind of high. .. I had contracted the Football Fever.


The effect of the Football Fever was such that cricket suddenly took a back seat and I had myself practicing football in the weekends. Posters of Zidane, Ronaldo and Beckham adored the walls of my bedroom. By the end of the world cup I had mastered the only thing I would ever learn to do with a football…Smash a curling free kick into the back of the net…a’ la David Beckham!!!

The 2002 World Cup taught me much more than just how to take a free kick. I now understood the game much better than what I did previously. Post World cup playing the FIFA 2002 soccer game on the computer provided a new experience. It gave me a chance to connect with my football idols and the gaming excitement was just too much….I became a football addict.

Just like a drug addict needs doses of drugs frequently, I like a football addict needed Goals. My dosage of goals came from Manchester United in the English Premier League. Frankly, I liked Manchester United only because of one player…David Beckham.

8 years have passed since I became a football addict. Beckham, ZIdane, Ronaldo have all moved on. Even I have moved on but my love for the game and Manchester United has grown leaps and bounds.

With Just a day to go for the start of the 2010 FIFA World Cup I have re-contracted the Football Fever. The game has found its new stars in Lionel Messi, Cristiano Ronaldo, Kaka’, Fernando Torres and Wayne Rooney…just to name a few. The stage is set in South Africa for the biggest extravaganza in the history of football.

The next one month shall provide us some of the most spectacular footballing moments. Look forward to the
Mesmerizing dribbling of Lionel Messi…

Majestic Step-over’s and Thunderous, Swirling free kicks of Cristiano Ronaldo…

Splitting through balls from Kaka’…

And the Bursting Runs of Torres and Rooney.

My heart cheers for England…but the mind says the Spanish Armada is too powerful! So let’s have an England-Spain Final on July 11. What say?

P.S. - 

Waka Waka...This time its for Africa...I even postponed my return to college by 2 days to catch the 'if possible' England-Spain Final.

P.S. -

I am missing you...Wish i had wings :) 

Penultimate Rain...

I cut the phone and stood there with those words still ringing in my ears. It took a moment for the gravity of the situation to sink into me. Slowly it dawned on me…

Today was the last day…My last chance...My only hope. Tomorrow she will be gone and I shall be left all alone with an eternal emptiness in my heart. All I shall have with me is scant but vivid memories of her…

The sky was busy, gathering clouds and getting darker by the minute. By your instincts you could tell…it was going to rain. I looked up at it hoping for a sign, a clue as to what to do. But, as always it was silent or spoke in a language alien to me.

Innumerable thoughts clattered in my mind. But this was not the time to sit and think, it was time to act. I set about searching for her, running around madly here and there looking for her.  I searched and searched everywhere but as fate would have it… she was nowhere to be found.

Tears swelled up in my eyes and that strange feeling got into me. The feeling of losing her…the feeling of being away from her…that feeling of not seeing her…that feeling of not being able to hear her voice. 

As if the sky had read my mind and wanted to sympathize with me, it started to drizzle. The wind started brewing up and was now blowing fiercely. It was as if the storm in my heart was playing itself in front of my eyes.  Soon the drizzle turned into heavy rainfall. I stood there getting drenched.

The rain might have quenched the thirst and given respite from the heat to scores of people but it sure wrecked my chances of meeting her. Now, even my remotest hopes had faded away.

Why does it always happen to me? Why does fortune never favor me?

I looked up to the sky again and said…give me one last chance. Dejected I walked back.

Soaked to the skin, I entered my room. As I changed to dry clothes, my mind was restless as a bee trying to conjure up some possibility of meeting her. I sat looking out of the window and the smell of the wet earth made me nostalgic. Even though I wanted to do it personally, I couldn’t hold myself back any longer. I picked up the phone and dialed her number.

She picked up and said ‘Hello’. 

I said ‘Hi’.

But words failed me after that. Hearing her pristine voice felt so soothing that nothing came out of my mouth. I cut the call and damned myself for being an idiot…a jerk…a nincompoop.

I calmed myself and dialed again. She picked up the phone and answered angrily ‘who is this?’ I introduced myself and blabbered something on the phone nonstop without giving her a chance to speak. I don’t know what I said or how I said but, I said all that I wanted to.

I wondered if she understood anything.  But her final words said it all.

I had conveyed my message and she had understood it flawlessly. I was relieved and elated.

Now, the exile shall turn fruitful. 

P.S.

The innocence of your words on the phone allayed all my fears.

Corridor Of Silence...

The IPL saga manages to capture everyone’s attention no matter how much one may try to be distant from it. Though I am an ardent follower of cricket, especially the IPL, time has drastically changed my outlook. It is time to ask the question…How much is too much?

Commentators often describe the area just in and around the off stump as the ‘corridor of uncertainty’. Bowlers are advised to get the ball in it  and the thumb rule says…No matter how good the batsmen is , how barren the pitch is, if you put it in there consistently, the batsmen will knick it, sometime or the other.

Both Lalit Modi and Shashi Tharoor have paid the price for fishing in the ‘corridor of uncertainty’ and are back in the pavilion. But what concerns me more is the ‘Corridor of silence’, in my life.

The ‘corridor of silence’ belongs exclusively to me and my princess. It opens for a mere 30 seconds every day and is the place where two immigrants meet. I stand at one end, waiting for her to appear and the corridor to open. As soon as it opens, the world seems to transform. I anxiously walk inside and at the same time as I look up, she looks down and our eyes meet for a fraction of a second. This fraction of a second is what I yearn for, everyday. It is my tonic to life. As I pass by her I can feel the aura, charisma and the magnetism which binds me to her. What follows is pure silence and I am left thirsty wanting for more.

The ‘corridor of silence’ closes and I am back to this material world with only my memories to cherish.

As I cherish the memories I wonder…

How much patience should I have with this silence?

When do I know it is too much?

Am I misinterpreting the signs?

I don’t know…

GOD knows it and/or She knows it. Take your time, but both of you please let me know…

Meanwhile, I shall tirelessly continue to bowl on this barren pitch of unconditional love to this exquisite batsman, hoping that my consistency in the ‘corridor of uncertainty’ will reap its rewards in the ‘corridor of silence’.


P.S. ...
23rd April, is the birthday of my loving mother. This post is dedicated to you.
Wishing you a Happy Birthday!!!
I love you mom.

Almost gunned down....

It was the summer of 2009…training time for the mining guys.

I and five of my friends were posted to train at Bailadila Iron Ore Project, Bacheli Complex, N.M.D.C. For those who don’t know, it is an Iron Ore Mine in Bastar district of Chhattisgarh. It lies in the heart of the Naxal mainland near Dantewada, the place famous world over for naxal menace.

All of us took a train from Kolkata to Raipur and from there we undertook a 12 hour bone-breaking journey on the dusty roads of Chhattisgarh in the sweltering heat, to reach Bacheli. Upon reaching Bacheli, we were received by our affectionate seniors who had arranged for our food and accommodation. In the next few days we met the whole of the I.S.M. fraternity at Bacheli who were more than happy to see juniors from their alma mater.

Mining guys at I.S.M. never do their complete summer training. It is a tradition that has been going on since when?... I don’t know. Adhering to the tradition, all the six of us decided to skip the training and go home.

Everything was going as per plan until now…but the nightmare was just about to begin.

I had to go to Bengaluru and only way was to take a bus to Hyderabad and then take a train to Bengaluru. Accordingly, I booked myself on a bus to Hyderabad. When I came back to bade goodbye to my seniors, they gave me the starter of the nightmare I was to endure.

The warning came loud and clear…The bus passes through the hideout areas of Naxals and there have been instances of Naxals attacking these busses.

My heart skipped a beat or two and I shivered in fear….

I gulped down my fear and asked them… Is it really dangerous? They laughed probably at my stupid question. Their laughter and the light reaction to my question made me think… are they joking? But one look into their eyes told me they were damn serious.

The lure of getting home early (2 months in hostel + exams…and no proper food for past one week) and no available train tickets for another two days at least, left me with no option. I instinctively decided to continue my journey and there in was my first mistake.

I boarded the bus on the fateful day at 4:30 in the afternoon. It was an ordinary A.P.S.R.T.C. bus and the thought of enduring 16 hours of the journey through winding hills and Naxal dominated forests made me dizzy. I tried not to think much and made myself comfortable in the not so comfortable seat. I put on the ear phones and soon I was asleep…

Almost three hours had passed when the bus suddenly stopped. I woke up…thinking it was a routine stop in between and cursing the cramped seats, I went back to sleep.

The next thing I knew was that a short, muscular man, chewing tobacco, dressed in a dirty white banyan and military pants with a red scarf on his head was waking me up by shaking me with the tip of his rifle. I opened my eyes….the rifle tip near my head...I was scared me to hell!!!

I jumped in my seats and was now widely awake with fear dripping from every cell of my body. One look around the surroundings and I was petrified. I was convinced that the time had come for my life to end.

I looked out of the window and saw another 8-10 armed Naxals circling the bus. It was pitch dark outside and there was no light whatsoever other than the lights of the bus. One of the Naxals looked towards me and I felt he would gulp me down with his eyes. I glanced at my fellow passengers for some assurance but alas! They too were at a loss to understand what was going on.

Meanwhile, I had forgotten that the other passengers were better off in the sense that I had this little giant with a rifle to contend with first…

He pointed his rifle at me and spoke something which I couldn’t understand. I simply nodded my head to whatever he said. Unexpectedly, he started screaming at me. I almost pissed in my pants! His loud words impinged on my ear drums and I sensed he was asking” which one is your bag?”

I pointed to my bag at the top and instinctively slid my Laptop bag underneath my seat fearing he might take it away. Then the thought came to me ‘Let him take all he wants, but spare my life…’

He took my bag and searched for something in it. He couldn’t find anything worthwhile and threw it back at me. Yelling at me he asked me to spell out my bio data. At the back of my mind I calculated the odds of me punching his face, grabbing his rifle and fleeing from there. But, on second thought I decided otherwise.

I stood there trying to convince him of my innocence. He wasn’t much interested and demanded proof of my innocence. I took out the ID card from my wallet to show him. Seeing my college ID card he gave me a villain’s smiles and thrust the card back into my hands and uttered abuses. I felt relieved as he motioned me to sit back at my seat. They lingered on for another hour or so terrorizing other passengers.

My mind went blank and I kept still and mum, moving only my eyes till they left. The Naxals gave one last laugh and raised some slogans. The bus finally started moving and as they faded away into darkness I felt as though returning back from hell.

Uff… it was too much for me and I dozed off…

The bus stopped again near some dhabha. From the boards I made out that we were somewhere near Bhadrachalam…400 Kms from Hyderabad. I was too tired to eat anything and just came out to buy some cold water.

Drinking the cold water I recollected what had just happened. Stricken with fear I just prayed to GOD… ‘Let me reach home safely’ and spent the rest of the night staring into the darkness.

As I reached familiar territories near Hyderabad, the sun rose from the darkness and I wondered Is this the new dawn of my life???

P.S. ….

This is a true life incident. The incident changed the way I looked up on naxals. Previously, I thought they were cruel minded, evil people but their generosity in sparing my life changed it all. I don’t want to sympathize with them but they do have a point in some of their activities.

Two Words and a Smile...

The first time I saw you my eyes lit up, just like any other teenager seeing a beautiful girl. I unbend myself thinking that it was just a passing infatuation.The shine in your black eyes, the warmth of your gentle smile and the positive vibes that surrounded me whenever I was in close proximity to you just made me feel heavenly. That night, I came back after confessing that I had a crush on you, I realized that you meant more to me than anything else and you had just stolen me away from me. I fell for you and there was no turning back from there.

About a fortnight ago it was the birthday of ‘My beautiful Princess’. I wished her at the stroke of midnight hoping I would be the first one to wish her. Whether, I was the first one or not I don’t know. I waited with bated breath for her reply (the first SMS she would send to me) but, it eluded me. Ahead of me was a restless night with her thoughts clattering in my mind.

The next morning, while I was on one of my lonely walks she adventitiously came in front of me. I mustered my courage to walk up to her and wish her but; the unexpected call on her cell phone drained all my enthusiasm. She walked away and I cursed myself for failing to seize the opportunity. How much I wanted to wish her I only knew but I wished she also knew.

I came back to take a cold shower and freeze my oozing feelings. I went back, this time even more determined. She came there in a ravishing purple top and a light blue jeans. From the corner of her eyes she looked at me. I grabbed the chance, allowed her to come close to me and when we both could hear our breaths I wished her Happy Birthday! She gently replied ‘Thank You’ and those were the two words which made my day.

When you make the one you love happy you feel a satisfaction greater than anything else. I experienced Elysium, love, happiness, joy, delight, ecstasy, euphoria, and gaiety all at once.

Today a fortnight later, it’s my birthday and I have the good wishes of my parents, relatives and all my friends. But all I want is you and to share my feelings with you. As usual I was there to see her. She came like always, punctual and right on time in a bright pink top and blue jeans with her curly hair clipped together. I thought she knew it is my birthday and would wish me but, how stupid I was. A puff of wind blew and hit her face; she closed her eyes as her curly hair came forward. Gracefully she tucked it behind her ears and walked away...

I was left there standing under the blazing sun thinking doesn't she have the slightest feeling for me?

I was wondering why?

After all, my interaction with her verbally, was minimal and we only conversed through our eyes. May be she doesn't know it’s my birthday. I consoled my wailing heart and walked back.

In the evening, again on one of my lonely walks I found her sitting with her friends near a juicewallah waiting to quench her thirst. I walked towards her making sure she could see me. When she saw me coming she immediately blushed and gave a beaming smile. There it was, this was the most beautiful birthday present she could give me. I passed by her and turned back to look at her, she was smiling again!

Yes, her reaction and the sunshine smile on her face told me that she didn't know it is my birthday. 

I walked back with my best birthday present etched in my memory permanently.

Dual Birthdays!!!

My gift to me on my 20th Birthday... a blog

Now that the days of my teenage are over and I have officially spent two decades, I travel back in time to garner all my thoughts on my past birthdays and how I spent each one of them. However this birthday of mine is unique in the sense that I have mixed feelings.

I have spent all my past birthdays in the warmth of my home and the first ones to wish me were my parents. This time though for the first time I am away from home and the first ones to wish me were my dear friends. Thanks to their barbaric way (GPL) of wishing me Happy Birthday, I have a tingly ass. Never mind the barbarism; I still loved the fifteen minutes of my fame.

I had effusively waited for each one of my previous birthdays, and more so for the gifts I got from my parents and my relatives. However, this time I beseech the almighty to grant my only wish -‘you’.