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.