A Pumpkins Saga

A Pumpkins Saga is a Tale of Pumpkin. His journey through Life, his frustrations, joys and gives the reader a first hand acccount into his unusual way of looking at the world around him. And overall attitude towards the thing that he doesn't give a dammn for

Tuesday, September 13, 2005

Weathering the Storm

I was aghast and Shocked, never imagined things could be that bad, never thought people could change so much in so short a time. My faith in individuals has been shattered [and since there never was any point in putting faith in bodies of people], I am now faithless.

In order to avoid confusing my already bewildered readers I shall now commence my narration right from the beginning.

My day yesterday had a perfectly normal beginning. I was called to the Local Police Station. Not because I was suspected for a murder or even better a rape, but because the Police wanted-I supposed-to check my credentials for changing my address and canceling the emigration check on my Passport. Upon reaching the aforementioned destination I was drawn upon the fact that my mother-who had applied for a new passport and along with whom I had applied to the Ministry of External affairs at the same time-had all her documents in order, but my papers were nowhere to be found. Upon enquiry I was told to go to the Passport section of the Crime Branch in the Commissionerate Office and retrieve the SB number of my file. Here too I was told that since they had no documents bearing my details I should enquire about the status of my case at the Passport office.

Well, now in no mood to go to the passport office-and also in a mood to meet the Commissioner of Police-I approached the PO in CO appointments and apprised him of the fact that I wanted to meet the commissioner because I wished to increase Police-Citizen interaction and intended to solicit the commissioners suggestions and help on that agenda. Citizen-Police Co-operation being one of the favored of the legendary Police Commissioner Sivanandhan’s babies, his staff agreed to grant us his audience at our convenience. Glad to know that I had managed to achieve something finally, I informed an elated Kapil of this advancement who more than happily agreed to join me for the meeting.

Since my maid servant failed to make it to my place yesterday, I had the fortune of being able to eat Bacon, pork cocktail sausages [missing something big boy], and eggs for Lunch.

The weather yesterday was overcast and gloomy with intermittent periods of rain and sun. Not knowing what to do, I finally decided to call Suyash up-who incidentally was eating a Pizza at a nearby Mall with Kaustub, who in turn chanced to meet him as he was shopping along with his sister for the latter’s B’day- who too felt that we three [Suyash, Kaustub and I] should meet up at Mulund Garden. I not only agreed, but also instructed Mandy to be present at the venue at the predefined time. Mandy gladly obliged. After all why should she be left out?

Parties met, pleasantries exchanged, questions asked. I was surprised to see Kaustub think that life without Varun would have been miserable for Suyash and me.

I think people who leave their home towns for better opportunities, like to look upon themselves as adventurers and relish the thought that they would be welcomed with garlands and roses when they get back home. Although pleasant memories of bygone relationships do reign high amongst all concerned, most of these people fail to realize that life goes on even with the ones that stay on. The ones that move away believe or rather want to believe that home is exactly the way they left it. But more often than not it isn’t so. Staying away from home is not easy; although the prospects of a better future enable people to put on an optimistic face; once the initial enthusiasm has faded, the blues take over. It is now that these people find solace in recollecting the memories of their past and of their youth at the place they grew up to be. They feel good knowing that they would be welcomed back home and they would be able to relive the experiences they have for so long cherished. My advice to all these men and women is, Quit living in the Past. Life moves on. This is a harsh reality, but you have to face it sometime or the other. And if you are prepared for it, then chances are that itl hit won’t hit you as harder. Though hit you it will.

Back to the point. The surprise I experienced in the Para preceding the last was nothing compared to the shock I felt and the anguish I had to go through, when Kabs started singing Malayalam Songs and mentioned to me that Mallu dames are amazingly attractive. This was in stark contradiction to what I had expected Kab’s opinion on Mallu babes to be [refer last Blog]. I have to admit I was shaken [if not stirred].

I have nothing against Mallu babes being pretty, having seen some attractive ones myself; but the high proportions of these attractive females being present in Kerala [taking into account the high female to male sex ratio] as stated by Kaustub, was turning out to be too hard to digest.

There are, as I see it only too possible explanations to this phenomenon.

The rascal is lying, in order to avoid embarrassments, and deriding remarks from his friends out here. [This seems to be unlikely as I could see the glint in K’s eyes when he passed this remark].

The more likely possibility is that Kaustub has mentally mutated. This although remarkable as it may seem might be true. Kabs always considered himself to be an Anna [south Indian]. This trait was seen to disappear upon constant indoctrination on part of Fatboy and Greyeyes. Apparently this syndrome has relapsed. With no one to constantly monitor his psychological functions; Kaustub has convinced himself that he is indeed a Mallu or an equivalent; and with the milk of human kindness flowing out of him at the rate of a Gallon a minute-and also owing to his dark complexion-he managed to convince numerous inhabitants of God’s own Land-amongst them a cute little Mallu dame with pretty eyes and a beatific smile- that he is one of their very own. Deeply intoxicated in the Tender Coconut like love of this girl, who we will for our convenience denote as S. Shanthipriya; Kabs has renounced his roots. Thus changing his attitude towards all Mallus.

I would advice all his friends not to be surprised if he were to speak Malayalam, sing those blasted Songs and worship South superstar Mohan lal. As a matter of fact if you see this coming, be prepared to receive a wedding invitation announcing Kab’s marriage to Ms S. Shanthipriya in a year or so; Venue Calicut, where idli-sambhar, dry surticolam Rice, saram along with the all time classic Popadam would be served on plantain leaves in a musty and wet dining hall.

My best wishes to the Couple, but I’d rather wait for the reception, which I hope will be conducted in more human a fashion, somewhere closer to home.

Monday, September 12, 2005

Changing Winds

Varun tells me that I have to Blog and so does my Conscience, not that Varun is my conscience or vice versa, but they get shockingly close sometimes. And as I’ve throughout my life silenced the good spirit in me [for the best], I silenced Varun’s pleas to me to pen down my prophetical thoughts. But after two months of abstinence, and of deafening slience; I am here today, blogging like I never blogged before.

I’ve decided to title my blog as ‘Changing winds’ not only because I’ve been going through a lot of changes in my life, but also because it’s been quite windy of late. A trite too windy for my taste if you should ask me. Not that I can taste wind; but that’s another matter altogether.

Maharshtra was swept by its feet [for those of my readers who are really poor at geography, Maharashtra is not an attractive woman but a state in central India, and considering the state the state is in at the moment, very few people would consider it attractive let alone sweeping it] by floods resulting in tremendous casualties, property destruction and human loss on a monumental scale. Bombay-or Mumbai as some would prefer to call it so- was hit by a record 944mm of Rain in less than 12hrs-the highest ever recorded in India- which brought the city to a complete standstill and resulted in the Deaths of about 500 innocent-or not so innocent and some foolish, some panicky-people.

Of course all the rains could not stop Kapil and I, catch up for a quick one and criticize everyone from the Bombay Municipal Corporation, to the Bureaucrats, the Disaster Management Committee [if there was one in the first place, but for the sake of venting out our frustrations, we assumed that there was one. We have realized that it is very convenient to criticize an organization that we know doesn’t exist to defend itself], the Politicians, the Criminals [although it is a Herculean task to draw the distinction the last two] and in general the Public.

Don’t blame us, because with nowhere to go and nothing to do and no one to talk to; there was little else we could have done. I won’t go about dealing with the statistics, the nature of the calamity, and steps required ameliorating the situation and so on and so forth. Inquisitive readers will find all the information they need to know about the aforementioned by just a click to the mouse-after of course typing the subject concerned-on Google etc, all this commented by people who have no idea at all about what’s going on or people who know exactly what’s going on but don’t give a damm.

Educated fools might have by now realized [read all those smarts who want to do an Engineering Graduation, especially in IT or Computers and then pursue an MBA from IIM, just because it pays you well and everyone in the monumental rat race seems to do so] that there exists a science called a Metrology or Civil Engineering or that there is something called as City Planning, practiced by Architects that plays a vital role in determining the way people live and affects their lives to a significant extent as compared to the thousands of IT Graduates that are churned out by the establishment known as the department of higher education as commodities to be exported to the US every year.

Frustrations successfully vented. Now for the lighter part. Varun successfully left for The Wildlife Institute of India on the 17th Aug without causing any permanent damage to the modes of transport hired by him to complete his journey. Varun seems to be thoroughly enjoying his stay at the Doon Valley, and who wouldn’t. Considering all that we’ve had to go in these last two months Deheradoon- no matter what Fat ass says about the higher percentage of relative humidity out there as compared to Bombay- seems to be a pleasant respite. Varun calls me periodically as a good boy should. I tried to call him yesterday, but he was out of coverage area.

Varun my friend, I know you’ve called me a couple of times in the last couple of days but, was not able to receive your calls. I should blame you solely for that, because ever since you spoke to me my phone has conked off. I can’t hear my phone ring anymore. And considering that you know me as I am, I sure you won’t be surprised if my cell phone were to be in a similar state when you’d get back home in December.

Kaustubh Shanbaug left a day before Varun did to Calicut and I’m sure he’s not going to be as happy as Varun is, because unlike the Big V, Kabs does not get to go to Corbett National Park in the lush green state it is in the Monsoon along with gentlemen with regal names [but horrible countenances] like A.J.T. Johnsingh and stay in the Governors residence at Nainital- because your batch mate is a grandson of the Governors- albeit for a single night. I haven’t spoken to Kabs ever since he was condemned to the horrible place that is Calicut. I hear he back for a week or so and I’m as eager as I can be to hear the atrocities that he’s been inflicted upon by the womenfolk of that Region.

Closer to home I’m managing the colossal task of balancing my lectures, practical and my research at IIT. Considering the fact that my course has slowly started becoming more and more demanding, I wonder if I’ll be able to do justice to my work at IIT any longer. Suyash, Mandy and I have started to conduct tripartite discussions on finding the most appropriate juncture of time to Eat out some real good sea cuisine at Anant Ashram. The talks are on and since Suyash Deshpande is to leave for Poona to take up his position at his new found Job at Wipro by the 14th next month we seem to have a sort of an ultimatum. Positive results are expected soon.

Varun’s absence left me without an ally in my fight against fitness and my mother having realized the superior position she now found herself to be in compelled me to –much to Varun’s disgust-join a local Gym. Babboo [Dinesh] Mayekar the Gym owner and Trainer, a jolly good lad of 24 is a pretty cool chap. A BSc in Chemistry and a Diploma in Physical Training are indeed rare qualities to be found in Gym Trainers, in a scenario where Gym instructors with names like Mrutyunjay Kambli, Dadoo Gawand and Pavan Mhatre, who can’t differentiate between a Trapezoid and the Gluteus Maximus are the norm. Gym is not the horrible place that I, on previous occasions had experienced it to be. A reunion with my long lost School Friend Subo Khan – who incidentally stays opposite to my place- coupled with my busy schedule and constant rendezvous with The Kriegsmann more than compensated for Varuns, absence. Life has been good to me.

Grandpa was sick with a weak Angina and was admitted to the ICU for sometime, but he’s recovered and quite OK now, relaxing at his home in Dadar. We had a nice time for Ganpati. For the first time after about two years I really felt it was worthwhile to go to Ganpati at Arvind Mama’s place – something I used to look forward to once upon a time - now that Andy has returned from New Zealand and decided to stay in India for Good. Kudos to Andy. Arvind Mama hosted his B’day party at a Resort on Ghodbunder Rd on the 9th this Month. Had a really great family experience after a long long long long time. My interactions with M. UK have increased manifold ever since he – as a result of dearth of activity on his mothers part- concluded that he was going to die an old Bachelor and needed someone to share his sorrows and help him out. Don’t worry mate, we’ll get you Wed; just take it easy. Now there’s a good lad.

Bhushan Mulgaonkar and all the other failures of my batch say that they won’t be performing the practicals until late November. That just leaves me and two other dames to manage all the action on the College Lab front. Life definitely isn’t fair and as I’ve previously mentioned in my earlier Correspondences that if its fair it isn’t life. I’m sure Garcinia would agree with me on these counts. Won’t you now Garcinia? Varun is life fair with you? I have I weird feeling that it’s not as good with you as I imagine it to be.


I’ve had an horrible time trying to compress all that I went to in the last two months, at least all that I can remember as of now and I’m sure that the reader is going to have an even harder time reading it. As a matter of fact I’m sure that most of my dear friends won’t read it in the first place. But this one is especially dedicated to you O Fat one who sits amongst those lofty hills out there; the one chap I know won’t fail to read my monologues.

So that’s all for the Day Folks, and until next time – Cheerio.



PS- Subo Khan, don’t let all those KT’s and your mother bog you down. That’s the spirit my boy. And if you seem to have lost it somewhere, I’m just the man to help you find it.

Eastcloud, your fumbling bother has finally delivered me[or rather I picked it up from him] my copy of Frederick Forsythe that I’d lent you somewhere in early April. But he’s not nearly as bad as my Professor who has a copy of my book, ‘Life Itself’ by Watson and Crick for the last 7 years. Kapil returned my DVD’s along with a complimentary can of Tusker –aye mate I finally know the difference between an African Elephant and an Indian Bird- although my Corbett and G3 is still in his care. I also renewed my BNHS membership three days ago. Guess I should have done that with you. I haven’t been to Fort ever since.