Farewell

16th October 1998. I still remember this day very clearly. Dad and me were looking out for a pet doberman.But we weren't successful in finding one. Somehow, we got to know of a place in Andheri and decided to have a look and go there.
We got to the place and there were 2 tan colored doberman pups. The lady there said that they were born on 15th August 1998 and now old enough to be given away. Of the 2, one was more playful and were naughty. We decided to take that one in and with that entered into my life a friend with whom I spent many years of my life.
We named him Jerry and slowly he started becoming an integral part of our lives. Sitting on the sofa for a moment, then jumping down and going to the kitchen, the running after grabbing a slipper and so on..a bundle of energy, never tiring. He was rarely tied in the house, except when guests were around. Even then, if they were staying for a long time,they would get used to seeing Jerry roaming around.
For a playful dog, he was very intelligent too. I have seen pets growl at their owners when eating, but never Jerry. We could lift his bowl while he was eating after telling him "Theher ja, main kuch panaa hai". And he would wait like a gentleman (drooling of course) and then resume his eating after we put his bowl down. Again, it was Dad who used to take him to his walks. He had such a keen sense of time that he would start barking the moment it was 5 pm.Whether Dad was sleeping or doing something else, he would keep barking till Dad asked him to fetch his leash and then they would go out. The funny thing was that he would only bark at Dad to take him out, not mom or even me.
For him, I was only for playing. Jumping, wrestling and of course, sleeping in my bed, with my blanket in the cold seasons. But for all you people saying "uuugh", well he slept at near my feet, never ever near my face.
A very obedient dog, he was never ever scared of going to the doctor. He never bit or snapped the doctor when he was getting his shots or later when he was being treated. In fact, he even knew when we were arriving at his place, since he would try to get down before I could!!
The years kept on passing and passing like this. We never thought that he would have any health problems. But this year, it wasn't so good for him. Kidney infection and then a surgery to clean an infection in his ear. His doctor said that he is a fighter and he successfully made it, considering his age was 11 years.
But destiny had other plans, his infection got worse. We had no option but to get him operated again.
13th September 2009..it was his operation. For some reason, he was looking in bad shape that day. We got to the doctors clinic and waited for ages. Eventually he was operated upon. The doctor said that he had lost blood, but he will recover. I heaved a sigh of relief. After the doctor gave a go ahead, I took him home, little realizing that this would be his last journey home.
I reached home and opened the gates and placed him carefully near the door. He was looking stressed, but otherwise ok. The moment I opened the door of my house and picked him up and put him in the house, I felt a sudden chill. I shook him and he did not respond, I put food near him, he did not move at all. Fearing the worst, I called up his doctor. One of them was on her way. She came home and confirmed my fear. Jerry, my dog, my best friend, a family member was no more. It was in his will that kept him alive all through his final journey home. He wanted to pass away at the same place where he had stayed.
The doctor made arrangements for his cremation at Parel Animal Hospital.
With 2 of my friends, I went with Jerry, now wrapped inside a blanket. We cremated him there. All this, within a span of a day, a dear one snatched away from me.
I came home and packed away his stuff; I could not bear to see it. Even though I was not ready to believe it, he was no more. In a certain sense, a good thing was that he was relieved of his suffering. People now ask me whether I will keep another pet and when I say yes, they tell me. "Even though you know they won't live long", and I tell them that even though they leave us, their memories will linger on. So, I had to soldier on, thinking about the good times we spent together and all those golden moments. Till today, seeing the my footwear lying around, I instinctively hide them, thinking that Jerry will chew them, not realizing that he is no more. Yes, life does become cruel to you sometimes, but there is no option other than taking the blows.
Farewell, my dear friend. God Bless you. Hope you are in a better place.

Dedicated to Jerry, my friend. Born 15th August 1998, Died: 13 September 2009.

Hide and Seek

Well, I waited and waited for the monsoons to arrive, and they are here, but somehow not the same as last year. So far, it looks like the Met department’s prediction of a normal rainfall has gone for a toss. Yawn, looks like I’ve heard that before. Now the entire country stands a risk of drought which is a grim scenario indeed.
Anyways coming to the point, as I said the rains have come, but are playing hide and seek. It rains for a full day, and the next day it is bright like mid summer. Guess the weather of Mumbai is also turning into London.
However, the one day match of the rain is enough to knock Mumbai out. As Hindi news channels say “BMC ke saare daawon par paani fir gaya” happens and things come to a standstill. And then we have the “chappe chappe par tainaat reporters”, who give us an update of each area and how much is the water logging, what’s the scene etc. A typical report would go something like this “Ham is waqt Mumbai ke Hindmata/ Milan Subway/ Andheri/ Kurla/Parel (choose whichever you prefer) area mein khade hain aur yahan par (again) Ghutne/Kamar (choice again!!) tak paani bhara hai. Log pareshan hain aur samanye janjeevan astwyast ho gaya hai. Adhikariyon ka koi pata nahi hai aur log behaal hain”.
This is usually followed by an interview with a local, who is enjoying his rainy day. And then comes the biggest, most overused cliché of all times, "In halaat mein bhi Mumbai waasiyon ka haunsla buland hai".
Sometimes I wonder that they archive the tapes and show the same tape each year on a day like that.
Like I mentioned earlier, recession has reached the skies and it’s not raining as it should,so we have some other gems too. “Barso Barkha Rani” was one such gem I heard on a channel which stopped me dead in my channel surfing tracks. I thought it was the latest B Grade hindi movie. Turned out that it was a report of the monsoon situation!! Guess these channels have really good ways of catching eyeballs.
I could continue writing this post forever, or rather till the time these news channels are not banned. Rains or no rains, their gems will keep raining.

Made in India

A couple of months ago, I had an opportunity to visit my native place, Amritsar. It was a godsend, considering that I had not been to Punjab for 10 years, yea right. I was really excited about going there and that brought back memories of school days when I used to go there.
Not much has changed there, such is the life of small towns. Shops close at 7 pm. People aren't seen at all on the streets. Life slows down to a crawl from the 5th gear, more so if you are from Mumbai.
Anyways, we usually travel by trains to the Punjab so the first thing was making a choice of which train to take. Since it was off season, tickets were available on all the 3 trains that go there from Mumbai. Frontier, Deluxe and Dadar-Amritsar. For brevity's sake, we always refer Golden Temple Mail by its older name of Frontier and the Paschim Express as Deluxe (never thought why is it called so).

Anyways tickets confirmed, the journey lasts for about 2 days and crisscrosses through various towns and cities. India hasn't changed much in the last 10 years I feel, except that people have more money and traffic jams are not limited to Mumbai only.

Now meeting up with cousins, uncles and aunties is a big big affair, more so when you are there for someone's wedding. It was the wedding of 2 of my cousins. And that is where the fun starts "Twadha munda kinna wadha ho gaya hai" i.e. Ooooh, your son is a big boy now!! What does he do? And my parents, faces beaming, reply "Sadha puttar engineer hai". And then, all hell breaks loose. Questions come like a rainstorm. Oh, he was very studious I see, He must be earning a lot. Where does he work? Did you get an alliance for him. Fortunately, my parents are not in a hurry to get me married off, so they just say he is young now, not old enough for marriage. What a close shave!!

Marriages are a very grand affair in Punjabis. Frankly speaking, I haven't seen marriages like those in Mumbai at all. Anyways they are fun, more so because there are many many Punjabi kudiyan to look at, which are hard to come by in Mumbai.
Since it was my cousin brother's marriage, he had all his friends invited and we were sitting together having a drink. Now I usually don't drink too much, just socially. But then, people have a nice misconception about you because you are from Mumbai. "Yaar tum bombaywale bahut kam peete ho, jaldi khatam karo toh ek aur peg daalun"..hmm..this does'nt help. Worst case? Unclejees who force you to have a glass. "Hun tu wadha ho gaya hai" i.e. now you are grown up!! Finally I took a glass and hung around with it for a good 3-4 hours just to avoid being handed another peg.
Speaking of cousins, I have a couple there who are in school. And for them, they just know my parents and me as "Bombay wale uncle, Bombay wale aunty and Bombaywale Veerji". Sounds like I'm a parsi. Kids there have only one question for me. Did you see Amitabh , Shahrukh Khan, Deepika etc etc. the list is endless. For some reason, they think that SRK, Big B shop in the same mall as I do. In jest, I told them yes I do because I meet them at the mall. Big mistake, they ran around the house yelling "Bombaywaale veerji knows SRK" till all his pals came running to me and asked me to tell stories. Fortunately I had one of my other bro coming to my rescue. We sat on his scooter and escaped to find a shop to get some cold drinks because it was very late in the night. 8: 30 pm...(no, its not a typo).
Tangent: Everyone in Punjab owns a scooter. Some own 1, some two or three. They all have 1 thing in common. Start the scooter, start the horn. As simple as that. And for brakes, drivers always use their feet, while simultaneously pressing the front brakes. Reminds me of the days when this was a cycle stunt. So, a note of caution. Be careful when driving a scooter there. Tangent ends.
Small towns have many transportation modes. Cycle rickshaws, auto rickshaws and for long distance "Bhoond" (Bhoond is actually the name of a flying insect in Punjabi). Haggling for fare is a common affair, and even though we speak good enough Punjabi, drivers always come to know that we are not from Amritsar and usually get an extra 5 rupees from us. Can't help it.
Also, another fact is that there is always one major road/bridge for each town. Approach from anywhere, you WILL get to that 1 place. For Amritsar, there is this 3 way bridge over the railway lines. Go to any place, you will pass that bridge. For intercity travel, its usually the famed G.T Road.
Now we have relatives out of Amritsar too and we hired a private taxi to visit them. This time, we had a driver who was drove an Indica but had all the attributes of a truck driver. Overtaking, fast driving is ingrained in everyone there. And the songs blaring from the CD player. Typical truck songs of local artists. Makes you wonder about the water of that place.
Anyways, there were many places we visited and it was fun.
But after some days, you start missing your life. 5th gear to a crawl all the time is not fun all the time, but yes, once in a while I do enjoy it. Trip nearing its end, I had to return to back. Hopefully , it won't be a 10 year gap to the next trip.

Broken Dreams

The weather outside was beautiful, cool and calm, like one of those days that makes you feel rejuvenated. But he was not concerned about the weather, barely noticing it. Sweating profusely, he walked with a fast pace that belied his nervousness, repeatedly checking the contents in the breast pocket of his blazer.
Reaching home, he frantically searched for his the keys. His wife was at work and was expected to return in an hour's time. His 2 kids, innocent little girls were at a day care center. They would be back with his wife.
Still sweating around, he kept his briefcase on the table and threw away his blazer on the couch,thinking let me just rest a while . Then suddenly, as if remembering something he got up and took both of these things into his bedroom.
Hands trembling, he took out the slip of paper as if it could explode any moment. How did he not see this coming? There were rumors floating all around for weeks before. He still kept hope, thinking that he would not be affected by all this. His thoughts went back to the day when the unthinkable happened. It came like a shock to him, like lightning out of the sky. Everything happened so fast.

Now he was thinking. Thinking hard as to what could be done. His wife, the kids. He thought he had let down all of them. His parents back at home. Old and aged, they had scrapped up money for him and his brother so that he could study and work here. Everyone in his family was so proud of the fact that he had made it big in the land of dreams. Alas, his dreams were shattered. All is over he thought. Today is the day of deliverance.
Reaching out nervously to his briefcase, he opened it and stared at the contents. How easy it is to get something like this here, he thought. Picking it up and opening it, he felt the cold metal in his hand. It would be so easy to finish everything now. But he did not want his family to suffer. He had not disclosed this to them. Why should they suffer with me?
His thoughts went back to home, his parents, staying with his brother. Atleast someone is there to take care of them. But here there is no one for his wife and kids.
All of a sudden, he heard the siren of a police car. For a second he was scared. Did someone see him buying it? Oh God, what do I do now he thought. Quickly he hid the gun under the mattress of the bed. There was a knock on the door, someone calling out his name.
Taking a few deep breaths to calm himself, he opened the door to a police officer standing there. The officer was muttering about some accident, involving a woman and 2 small girls. Everything was a blur for him. He did not understand.
Then the officer broke it to him. His wife, the car, his kids, driven off a bridge. Then it struck him.
The officer gave him a piece of paper, he opened it, dazed and shocked. It read "I have let down everyone, I am going, Bye".
He fell to his knees, the officer gently helping him up. He said that their bodies are at a morgue. Please come along to identify them.Not even bothering to lock his house, he just went along with him. Everything was finished. How could lightning strike twice.
The officer was graceful enough to drop him home. They would call him again they said.

Two days later, the officer was back. He knocked at the door, but there was no response. He tried the handle, it was open. Calling out his name, he went inside. Then the stench hit him. He went into the bedroom, and saw it, like many times before. A note, a body and a gun.
Shaking his head, he radioed his team. Another one of those, why do people do this? He waited there till his team arrived. Carefully his team completed the necessary proceedings. Finally he locked the house and put the tape on it which said "Police line, do not cross". Turning back, he sat in his car, siren wailing. He took one final look and drove away.

A Royal Ride - 2

And so, entered into my life a machine, which is rarely considered a machine by people who love it. The first thing I used to do after getting home from office was to drive it in the neighborhood and get a hang of it. It was a bit tricky at first, especially with the gears and brakes interchanged. But gradually I got a hang of it and used to drive it in my area.

The experience of starting a bullet is truly different. It's like a ritual, a sacred routine. The first thing to do is to check the oil. If its between L and the H marking; perfect. Check the fuel. Older bullets do not have a fuel indicator, so you need to open the lid, give it a shake and see how much is the fuel.Then, pull out the choke, adjust the decompression lever and then, a nice little kick, without giving the accelerator. If everything it ok, the engine becomes alive, like a heart beat, thump thump thump. Wait for a couple of minutes for the warm up and then as I call it "1 Up" and off you go.
Sure it takes a bit of time more, but its almost feels like you have woken up a sleeping person and coax him to alertness.

Riding the bullet along the highway is one of the most calming experiences I feel. Yes, calming because it truly is a otherworldly experience. Traffic notwithstanding, one goes along his own pace, the needle steady at 50. No zipping zzzzzzs of 150 cc bikes, no honking, nothing. I do not experience the need to rush when I am riding. It's really incredible.
As I kept on riding my bullet, I also came to know what makes you different from other bikes on the road.
People will stare at you. Yes, real hard. But you will get used to it.
Royal riders rarely wind their way between cars in traffic. Maybe its because the bullet is heavy or simply its almost insulting to treat a bullet like a normal bike and nudge it here and there.
If you happen to see another rider approaching you, as you get close, almost instinctively there will be a slight nod of the head. A symbol of acknowledgment that we are of the same fraternity.
The looks of your bullet rarely matter. While a true rider would never keep it shoddy, which is why I have given mine for a paint job, it does not matter as long as it rides good.
I take my bullet to the office. Many people there know me as "the guy who has a bullet". It has become my identity.
People ask me often, why did I buy a bullet. It has to be cleaned frequently, it requires maintenance. But I cannot explain. I feel you do not choose a bullet, rather it chooses you. It is up to the bullet to decide whether you are fit enough to own it.
I do have my moments when my bullet does not start easily. The times when engine "over ho jataa hai". The times when I forget to check the fuel. It takes real stamina to start it then, at least 10-12 kicks. People will look at you and think why did he have to buy it? Nevertheless, the moment it starts, everybody will heave a sigh of relief. A small thanks will leave your lips. And then "1 up" and you are off. The road awaits you.

PS: This piece is written as a tribute to the people who ride the Royal Ride, the Royal Enfield.

A Royal Ride - 1

Today I've decided to write a post on something very close to me. No no, its not my girl, but its something even more closer than that. My very own Bullet, Royal Enfield Bullet. Hear the thump now..yeah thats right.
My association with this regal ride, king of the road goes a long way back. When I was a kid, my dad used to drive one of these. We could know he was nearing home, simply by hearing the thump of his "Bullt" as we Punjabis call it. Sadly, I was too small and couldn't even kick start it, forget riding it. Then dad had to sell it due to medical reasons and he opted for a scooter.Wonder how he could drive one after riding a Bullet.
Anyways the years passed by. Daddy dear was not in favor of me riding a bike, saying its very risky and said I could drive the car once I got my license. So it was. I used to drive an Omni around our place and didn't mind it too. I still love to drive it..yeah right..an Omni. Then one day, we felt the need to get a two wheeler since it wasn't always easy to drive around in a car and find parking space for it.
So we looked around for some bikes and we got ourselves a Yamaha Enticer. It was a nice bike, but there was a problem in clearing its papers, hence we returned it back, and started looking for another bike.

This time, things turned out a bit different. Dad wanted to get a bullet and he used to often ask me to look around for one. Initially, I was apprehensive that its a heavy bike and the "kickstart routine" would leave me crippled. Even his friends advised us "Bahut bhaari bike hai, tu sambhaal nahi payega". But what the heck, I go to a gym, I could ride one said Dad. The final realization dawned when I was watching a TV show and there was this girl who was riding a Machismo. She weighed 45 kgs and the Machismo weighed 180 kgs. And no, I am not going to reveal my weight here. Anyways, we kept looking around for one, and did find a couple. But those were not good to ride enough, so we didn't get them.
Then one day, one of my dad's friend told him about a mechanic who could have a bullet. We went to him. It turned out that he had one, a 1996 Bullet 350 Standard. He got it from his place and showed it to us. It didn't have a great paint job, but that was not important. The ride was.
The moment I saw it, I told my dad, let me get it off the stand and kick start it. If I can do that, I will be able to ride it.
And so it was. The first time in my entire existence on this planet I sat on this beautiful machine (yea, sounds straight out of a sci-fi movie) and started it, boy it felt so very good. The thump under the seat, the height, the feel. Words aren't enough to describe it. Anyways Dad took a drive and it was perfect. We had got ourselves a deal and so I was also one of the fraternity, the chosen ones who had a Bullet.

Apne thoughts on Apne, the movie.

Recently, I had the opportunity to catch a movie on TV, whilst lazing around on a sunday afternoon. And guess what, it was Apne. First thought: A copy of Rocky most likely. Ho..hmmm.. Anyways I got down to watching the movie, having nothing better to do.

Enter Dharamendra..no no..not with his raised index finger (yeah..have to specify which finger for you dirty minds!!) and with his kutte kameene dialog. With a voice sounding more like he had sand and pebbles for dinner, he talks with his wife Kirron Kher, like a cry baby. Yes, I am sane, its cry baby. Apparently, he was a boxer wrongly convicted of doping in Amreeeka (thank god its not atleast "hamara padosi mulk" thing) and he wants to wipe out the blot on his career.
Cut to Sunny Deol's entry. Sunny is a well established businessman but has a strained relation with his "paapaaaa" because boxer daddy wanted Sunny to avenge his "doping ki gaali". But he only went as far as becoming a national champion.
Last but not the least,enters Bobby Deol. With one hand in his pocket because he had a "bachpan ka haadsa", eerily resembling Rajesh Khanna's act from the movie Avtaar. Thats the only similarity. He is a rock star who croons day and night and he has Katrina for company. Ok, enough of the entry stuff.
Dharam starts training a dude (Aryan Vaid, walking wax figurine) for boxing on the insistence of his wife and his friend Victor Banerjee. Somewhere in between, he goes to Mumbai and decides to get himself trained by an Australian coach. Dharam is very upset and pleads with him in his sand-and-pebbles voice "Why are you doing this to me? Kya kamee hai mujhme?" (I let out a huge laugh on the kamee dialog..you know why). After he leaves, Dharam goes about banging his hand on the photographs. In the midst of all this, Bobby enters and guess what? Actually its pretty obvious. There is a struggle and Bobbys hand starts moving. By now, I am rolling in laughter and falling off the couch. Whay a typical hindi "phillum" scene. Now Bobby starts training for a big event and boxer daddy is very happy. The event starts and as usual he reaches the final, where he has to fight a certain Luka Garcia (called Lukkka Grasia by boxer dad...).
Another scene between Sunny and Dharam. Sunny comes to boxer dad and says that his pics are all over the place. He then sarcastically remarks to Sunny that is boxing still a waste etcetra etcetra.Sunny tries his best to justify his stand. Then comes a gem of a dialog. Dharmendra in english. Hold your breath. "You are a simply worthless son to me!!!" My tummy is aching from laughing so much. I go berserk on hearing this one.
Cut to Amreeka, for the big final. People are rallying behind their hero. Luka Garcia comes to meet Boxer dad and tells him to go back. All of a sudden, out of the blue comes another precious gem. "They call my son, the miracle boeeey". My ears cannot believe it.
In the ensuing fight, Bobby is knocked out with a damaged liver by Lukkkaa Grasia and Boxer Dad holds a press meet that Lukka put something into the Miracle Boy's eyes. Lukka proceeds to punch Boxer dad and enter Sunny "Oye tunne mere papa ko maraa". And tries to beat the pulp outta Lukka. Luka challenges him to a fight.
Now starts the fun. Sunny starts training for boxing, and this is probably the only slight resemblance to Rocky wherein he is doing his jog.
Then comes the big day. Bobby is in the hospital watching the fight. Punches and hooks fly. Expectdly, Sunny wins the fight and proceeds to kill Luka, when Luka's wife pleads with him not to. How melodramatic.
In the hospital, Bobby collapses from a liver infection and has to get a new liver. Too bad, no one from the family can donate "apne liver ka ek hissa", except Boxer. But since Boxer dad is too old, he cannot either.
Dharam decides to commit suicide so that his liver can be used. But just in the nick of time someone donates his liver and Bobby gets a new lease of life.
Sadly the fun ends here. Everybody lives happily ever after. Boy I can't wait for the sequel for Apne.!!

My very first blog!!

Well, finally the blog-bug has bitten me and I decided to have a blog of my own. I wasn't getting a proper name in english, so yours truly had to choose a punjabi name. The blog title is मेरा ढाबा meaning my hotel. Here you will be served mostly light hearted stuff, but the occasional fiery dish is always there to spice up the occasion. So welcome to my place and have fun.