So far the Champion's League Twenty 20 Cricket (Ab Hoga Muquabla or something to that effect) has been boring. One match went to the super over and another won off the last ball but even those did not excite me much. The players look jaded, some teams look out of place, some seniors look tired and out of shape - and it has all the makings of a exhibition tournament. With the exception of the Aussie sides that are giving the bigger teams with fancied players a run for their money, not other team looks fit nor are they displaying the hunger that one expects from twenty 20.
Twenty 20 is the fastest version of the game, the most powerful and calls for the highest levels of fitness and commitment. It needs not just the six hitters like Pollard but also those who can convert zeros to ones, ones to twos and twos to threes. The Aussies have demonstrated their superior process and preparation by doing the basics right, keeping the wickets, running hard, fielding well and bowling well. In the fielding department you expect all catches where the player gets both hands to the ball to be taken and some incredible out of the world catches as well because nothing puts the brakes on the momentum like a wicket. But we have seen several normal catches being put down, shoddy fielding where the ball has been allowed to go past the fielder due to misfields. In the bowling department, bowlers are still struggling to bowl good yorkers, change their pace well and keep away from bowling full tosses and leg side balls. The slow bouncer that England used to great effect in the T20 World Cup final is not much on show and we have bowlers running in and bowling thoughtlessly and fatalistically. The wicket keeping has been rather shoddy, maybe because some teams use batsmen as keepers.
I saw the match where Mumbai Indians beat Royal Challengers by 2 runs. Virat Kohli (now that boy's an interesting prospect if he keeps his head about him and retains his focus) almost took the match away from the Indians with some lusty hitting off two of the better bowlers - Malinga and Zaheer Khan. Zaheer appeared rather pleased with his performance in the after match interview but I found nothing to be pleased in it. After getting hit for two fours off his pads in the same over by Kohli who shows a wonderful gift of timing and placement on the leg side, the Indian pacer bowled a full toss on the leg stump to Kohli on the last ball with 3 to win. It was a fluke that Kohli in his enthusiasm mishit that full toss and lead edged a skier for Rayudu, else it was curtains for the Indians.I failed to understand the strategy or whatever made Zaheer Khan feel pleased about his performance except that he got damn lucky. However the way the Royal Challengers got Pollard with Steyn bowling short balls and softening up the big man and then getting an unsure prod as a leading edge to the bowler was well planned.
Overall, there is nothing much for the viewer. The most exciting thing is the faces that the cricketers and Amitabh make while advertising the Championship. Frankly, my dears, its been rather a bore for me. I dread to wonder how the players will shape up for the World Cup in February. At least if they look interested enough it might fool us into thinking something interesting is going on.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Article in the Indian Express - September 21, 2010
The following article appeared in my Sunday column 'Un Intended' in The New Indian Express on September 21, 2010.
Armoured Assassins With Fine Features
Harimohan Paruvu
The other day I witnessed a young girl driving her scooter in traffic. Nothing unusual about it except that she was draped up completely from head to toe in cloth. Nothing wrong with that either but you could not see one square inch of skin anywhere. Now don’t get me wrong – I am not the kind of a guy who goes around looking for skin on women riders. It’s just that I could not see her eyes, her nose or her mouth – damned suspicious, I thought. How would she breathe, see, talk or hear? Why was she dressed up as if some nuclear disaster was taking place? Was she a suicide bomber? Was she a she?Maybe, the girl was very culture conscious I thought. But what culture is this where she suffocates herself to death? I looked about. Several such specimens were going round the town in that elaborate gear. My antennae went up. Was some big attack being planned? Some secret cultural revolution going on? Was this some new Egyptian fashion where girls were dressing up to look like mummies? What was all this?
The mummy I was following stopped her bike at a restaurant close to a college. College kids! I got myself a place at a table. Soon a group of mummies entered the restaurant and in the melee, I lost my mummy. Thankfully one of the new mummies walked to a table near mine looking like an astronaut from outer space. First she took off her goggles revealing the smallest slit in the cloth near her eyes. She then undraped a long scarf that ran into a few kilometers from around her head. Ah, such a nice pretty face. Why would she want to hide that? Then she slowly unplugged a couple of ear phones from her ears. Next she unpeeled a pair of elbow length gloves and kept them on the table. And then she took off a jacket that ran from her collar down to her knees. All this stuff must have weighed about twenty tonnes. Inside it was a petite young girl of the finest features and lovely complexion.
Why would she want to hide herself thus I wondered. Why wear this armour? Sun, pollution, dust, protection were all possible answers but there seemed to be more. I waited quietly, lurking. After a while all the mummies headed out. They walked to the parking lot where a group of youngsters waited on their motorbikes. The mummies got on to the pillions of these motorbikes and they all headed off happily.
Aha, I thought, smiling to myself. Young love! Ingenious. As a disguise that protects their identity, this was a fantastic costume. It also serves several other purposes. It enhances our culture, protects health and certainly hides one’s identity from prying eyes. These new gen kids were smart.
Satisfied that our culture and nation were not under threat from beautiful bombers I was about to remove myself from the scene when I got a doubt. How will the motorbike guys know who is behind the mummy costume? Some code? Maybe, since the girls could see the guys, they would approach their own boys. Trust is of essence here. Good, everything seemed to be in order. I was almost out of the parking lot when I saw something that stopped me cold. I saw a couple of the motorbike guys dressed up like mummies themselves. Now, if both parties were dressed up like mummies how will anyone know who they are making off with? I draped my head in a scarf and scooted.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
The Motorcycle Diaries - Ernesto Che Guevara
I finally got my hands on 'The Motorcycle Diaries' when I went to Landmark the other day. It's a slim book, about 165 pages long and told in a fascinatingly frank yet poetic style style by the author, the enigmatic Argentinian icon, politician, thinker, guerilla warrior, Che Guevara. The book is the diary of the events that happened to Che, then a medical student who was one year shy of his final year, and his biochemist friend Alberto Granado. Together they plan to go to North America by road from Cordoba, on Alberto's old Norton motorbike that they call 'La Poderosa' or 'The Mighty One'.
It is a difficult journey where the young men go through many tough times in every way. The bike gives way many times and they fall off, tyres blow off, parts of the bike get broken until they finally decide to let it go somewhere along the way. But whatever the hurdle the two young men are equal to it, never thinking of going back even when they run out of money, are hungry for days, sleep in the cold in open areas, beg for food even. But despite the hardships the book is told in a comic tone, a tongue in cheek account of their troubles, the people they meet, the way the two con people for shelter, food and drink. Once they get rid of the motorcycle they hitch rides on trucks, even do a small distance on a raft they make and call 'Mambo Tango'.
In a few sentences Guevara describes the scenery, his impressions, the culture, their hopeless situation, the good and bad in people and the will of the two young men to complete what they began. Their trips to hospitals for shelter and food, police stations, houses, leprosy camps, mines leaves one feeling tired, but you know from the tone of the writer that whatever happens they will pass through. His impressions of the conditions that Latin American people in different countries live in, his wanting to give them a better life be it through medical help, justice or just plain hope of getting an equal and fair share from their land come through very clearly.
It is no wonder that this man went on to star in a bigger adventure in his life, leading Cuban rebels to victory over a dictatorship regime alongside Fidel Castro, serving as Minister even, speaking against the US policies, spreading his message and philosophy in faraway lands such as Asia, Europe, Soviet Union, China, North Korea, and then dying a premature death at the hands of Bolivian counter insurgency troops at a young age. Guevara lived life on the edge, in complete accordance with what he believed in and gave it his everything, be it while undertaking a motorcycle journey across South America or taking his ideology where it belonged.
Guevara's story reveals a spirit that one sees rarely. Many people speak and spout philosophies and ideas that they do not have the courage nor guts to take responsibility for. No wonder then that Che has earned the status of a true icon - not a carefully created one by rabble rousing mindlessly in the guise of intellectuals.
I would love to see the movie now.
It is a difficult journey where the young men go through many tough times in every way. The bike gives way many times and they fall off, tyres blow off, parts of the bike get broken until they finally decide to let it go somewhere along the way. But whatever the hurdle the two young men are equal to it, never thinking of going back even when they run out of money, are hungry for days, sleep in the cold in open areas, beg for food even. But despite the hardships the book is told in a comic tone, a tongue in cheek account of their troubles, the people they meet, the way the two con people for shelter, food and drink. Once they get rid of the motorcycle they hitch rides on trucks, even do a small distance on a raft they make and call 'Mambo Tango'.
In a few sentences Guevara describes the scenery, his impressions, the culture, their hopeless situation, the good and bad in people and the will of the two young men to complete what they began. Their trips to hospitals for shelter and food, police stations, houses, leprosy camps, mines leaves one feeling tired, but you know from the tone of the writer that whatever happens they will pass through. His impressions of the conditions that Latin American people in different countries live in, his wanting to give them a better life be it through medical help, justice or just plain hope of getting an equal and fair share from their land come through very clearly.
It is no wonder that this man went on to star in a bigger adventure in his life, leading Cuban rebels to victory over a dictatorship regime alongside Fidel Castro, serving as Minister even, speaking against the US policies, spreading his message and philosophy in faraway lands such as Asia, Europe, Soviet Union, China, North Korea, and then dying a premature death at the hands of Bolivian counter insurgency troops at a young age. Guevara lived life on the edge, in complete accordance with what he believed in and gave it his everything, be it while undertaking a motorcycle journey across South America or taking his ideology where it belonged.
Guevara's story reveals a spirit that one sees rarely. Many people speak and spout philosophies and ideas that they do not have the courage nor guts to take responsibility for. No wonder then that Che has earned the status of a true icon - not a carefully created one by rabble rousing mindlessly in the guise of intellectuals.
I would love to see the movie now.
Monday, September 20, 2010
Where Does Your Energy Lie?
A thought struck me yesterday that we look at people closely, you know pretty much where their energy seems to be focused on. Some people clearly live in the past in a dreamy haze and are constantly talking about the past - obviously their energy is stuck there and they have very little energy to live their current life. Some people seem to have much of their energies stuck in other people - either their spouses, sons or daughters, or whoever - and are constantly thinking and talking about them and they have little energy to live their life. Some people are stuck with some ideas of how their lives should be - either a self righteous mode or whatever and they also fail to see and live a life as it passes by without their coloured shades. Some live in their future, some in a constant drama.
But clearly it can be seen that our energies are drawn some place. If we cannot see it, others can. Worth asking your close friends, and family and see if it makes sense. And I think if we draw some energy back to our life, it would add some much wanted zing to it.
Bit like how children can be. Happy, sad, joyful, adventurous - but in the moment. No 'shoulds' in their lives - just living. And living fully, unlike most of us, who live partial lives.
But clearly it can be seen that our energies are drawn some place. If we cannot see it, others can. Worth asking your close friends, and family and see if it makes sense. And I think if we draw some energy back to our life, it would add some much wanted zing to it.
Bit like how children can be. Happy, sad, joyful, adventurous - but in the moment. No 'shoulds' in their lives - just living. And living fully, unlike most of us, who live partial lives.
The Misfit - Sent Off
Sending off one draft of 'The Misfit' to Keerthi started a whole new thought process in my mind. I can now see how more depth can be added to each episode, how each episode could be placed in a proper sequence, how I can actually place the episode in some contemporary context with a slight addition. Of course, this is the part that is the most interesting always. Getting the story done for the first draft is good but it is the filling of these little gaps, the cutting and pasting, the adding of a line, a nuance, here and there that I enjoy the most. The best lines, the best ideas seem to come now - little little ideas that add a lot to the end product.
Naturally it gets as delicious as a wonderful meal that needs to be garnished before one partakes of it. I speak more from the angle of the cook than the eater here. One can understand the satisfaction one gets while running these last parts. The path suddenly becomes clear, you also know now how the structure falls in and what you need to do to make it touch a new high, and you just can't wait to do it. You are waiting to start on it at the first opportunity, with a deliberate action that says - I am coming, I know how to fix you.
Naturally it gets as delicious as a wonderful meal that needs to be garnished before one partakes of it. I speak more from the angle of the cook than the eater here. One can understand the satisfaction one gets while running these last parts. The path suddenly becomes clear, you also know now how the structure falls in and what you need to do to make it touch a new high, and you just can't wait to do it. You are waiting to start on it at the first opportunity, with a deliberate action that says - I am coming, I know how to fix you.
The Razor's Edge - Somerset Maugham
My first Maugham. I have been forever planning to read 'Of Human Bondage' and never go down to it. When I saw 'The Razor's Edge' at Mythily's house I instantly borrowed it. Looked like an interesting title and it had an interesting cover.
I found it an easy read which was a huge relief. Quite modern in its outlook, its characters. It is more or less the story of Isabel and Larry who grow up in America, two youngsters that Maugham (he is himself, the narrator) through Elliott, his friend. Now Elliott is someone who loves to play up being the man of the world, keeps good company, goes to painstaking lengths to have, know and keep all that if refined and of high social standing. Isabel is his niece and Larry her friend from childhood who she is bent on marrying. Elliott lives in Paris mostly, Maugham in London and the Isabel and Larry;s in America. So Maugham whisks us all over the continents. And with Larry's penchant for travel we hop into India a bit as well.
It is a story that will hold good at any time because the emotions are timeless. The characters as well. Isabel loves Larry but not his ideas of leading a wandering, exploratory life. She decides to marry a rich broker (with a forgettable name) who is rich when she marries him but goes bust in the stock market crash of 1929. And then she and her husband and children are broke and come to live in Eliott's flat in Paris. Larry has meanwhile worked in coal mines, fruit orchards, met all kinds of people, accumulated money he does not have any need to spend and still seeks God. He meets the couple thanks to Maugham who meets Isabel regularly and they meet a whole bunch of new people, including Ms. Sophie Macdonald who knew them all from America. Now living a degenerate life Sophie, a victim of circumstances, is a drunk, drug addict and sleeps with anyone. Larry wants to marry her and well, Isabel is sure that it will destroy her Larry. Just as she wished, Sophie disappears before the marriage and Larry is left to his wanderings. Elliott dies, Sophie is found murdered, Isabel and husband live comfortably and Larry heads off to America with nothing on his back - just as he wished. And so Maugham concludes, everyone gets what they wanted.
Maugham is easy to read which was the biggest relief. His eye for detail is evident just as hie great wisdom is in the way he brings up discussions and arguments and presents some hard questions to the reader. The characters live and feel exactly what we do so it makes them very real.
I found it an easy read which was a huge relief. Quite modern in its outlook, its characters. It is more or less the story of Isabel and Larry who grow up in America, two youngsters that Maugham (he is himself, the narrator) through Elliott, his friend. Now Elliott is someone who loves to play up being the man of the world, keeps good company, goes to painstaking lengths to have, know and keep all that if refined and of high social standing. Isabel is his niece and Larry her friend from childhood who she is bent on marrying. Elliott lives in Paris mostly, Maugham in London and the Isabel and Larry;s in America. So Maugham whisks us all over the continents. And with Larry's penchant for travel we hop into India a bit as well.
It is a story that will hold good at any time because the emotions are timeless. The characters as well. Isabel loves Larry but not his ideas of leading a wandering, exploratory life. She decides to marry a rich broker (with a forgettable name) who is rich when she marries him but goes bust in the stock market crash of 1929. And then she and her husband and children are broke and come to live in Eliott's flat in Paris. Larry has meanwhile worked in coal mines, fruit orchards, met all kinds of people, accumulated money he does not have any need to spend and still seeks God. He meets the couple thanks to Maugham who meets Isabel regularly and they meet a whole bunch of new people, including Ms. Sophie Macdonald who knew them all from America. Now living a degenerate life Sophie, a victim of circumstances, is a drunk, drug addict and sleeps with anyone. Larry wants to marry her and well, Isabel is sure that it will destroy her Larry. Just as she wished, Sophie disappears before the marriage and Larry is left to his wanderings. Elliott dies, Sophie is found murdered, Isabel and husband live comfortably and Larry heads off to America with nothing on his back - just as he wished. And so Maugham concludes, everyone gets what they wanted.
Maugham is easy to read which was the biggest relief. His eye for detail is evident just as hie great wisdom is in the way he brings up discussions and arguments and presents some hard questions to the reader. The characters live and feel exactly what we do so it makes them very real.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Day out With Koni - One of those 'Just a moment' rides
And so today Koni (my friend Choudary alias Koni alias Chow alias Ravi alias Shiva etc) called me early and asked me if I was game for a ride to see the farm and other lands nearby. It was fine weather so I jumped at the offer and met him at Srinagar colony. It was probably 915 that time.
Koni was all enthusiasm and told me that we will first drop in for a moment's work at Tank Bund where he was coordinating all the cranes for the Ganesh nimmajjanam. It is obviously an important job so I nodded and went along. Once we went to his mobile office, (a container that is nicely done up on the inside to serve as a mobile office), parked right outside NTR gardens I had this old sinking feeling. Outings with Koni, especially the 'just a moment ones' are notorious for all night, all day and if you have the time could take all week as well. Many times in our youth, when we had much time to spare, many of us got caught in these 'just a moment' jobs and before we knew it we were whisked off to some Godforsaken place in the middle of the night, with no place to sit, slapping away at mosquitoes, hoping for some food at some point, surviving on tea (if at all), sometimes holding torches, flashlights for the mechanics to work, carrying diesel and spare parts and many such jobs that are in the least enjoyable. Several times we got caught but we learned with experience and learned to stay away. But even to this day, some of us do get trapped in that 'just a moment' trap and its all deja vu after that.
One reason why Koni's 'just a moment's' are so famous is because he is so entertaining. He will have no money in his pocket. No diesel in his car. No support. No idea what he is doing (sometimes). Definitely no idea what the other guys are doing. But he will be all enthusiasm. He will never be in the least apologetic despite all the long faces you pull (I am the king of long faces and he has put up with that for decades now) and in fact laugh at your predicament. After sometime you realise that there is no use of that long face and you tend to join in with the laughter. Somehow he will get diesel on credit. Somehow he will get money on credit. Somehow we will be all feasting at some weird place which suddenly starts serving the most delicious food. I guess that is one of the advantages of his great enthusiasm and never-say-die attitude to life. One reason why its great fun to recount those trips with the incomparable Koni. The same trip for anyone else in the world - people would willingly slit their throats before doing anything like that. But with Koni its a totally different thing.
Anyway time ticked by slowly. At 1030 I pulled the first long face and drowned the mobile office with a disapproving silence. No one bothered. I looked for long at my mobile. I stared longingly at auto rickshaws. I sipped at the chai that was served. I looked hard at the sheaf of paper he was making small entries in and coordinating with other crane operators. I never once went close enough to peek at that sheet. (Now if Koni was in my position he would have read those papers thoroughly and given me a million suggestions on how to improve this whole operation, and then moved out and improved the situation outside as well.) The clock ticked to 1130. Just as I was shuffling in my place an associate came and a quick meeting was held. At 12 he wound up the meeting and announced that we were on the way out. I walked silently to the car. We took off and went around the island. 'Shit, no money,' he said and turned back. Familiar words. He stopped at the office and called his manager and asked him to get some money across. Again we turned the car around and off we went over the Khairtabad flyover when he got a call. 'Just now...abhi aa raha hoon...saab,' he said and turned back again. I told him that if it was a long meeting I'd head home. He assured me that it would be a short one. Thankfully it was.
And then he chose to take the longest, highest traffic density route to Shamshabad. We crawled through traffic at Moazzamjahi Market and bumped ourselves on really bad routes as we headed to Shamshabad. We finally stopped at 230 pm and grabbed some lunch at 'Nellore vari Mess' - a hot favourite with the man. Unfortunately the restaurant chaps were building a new place and had set up a temporary place by the side which was crammed to the gills even then. Lunch kind of softened me and we laughed our way through rain into some really dangerous roads. Of course he stuck his head out most of the time in the rain and yelled loudly in delight as the rain blew into him while I rolled my window up and kept out every drop of rain. After a while he looked at me bewildered and admitted that he was lost. And then he turned and took a turn into a road which was now resembling a small river. We went into big potholes, not knowing what was beneath, skidded on muddy roads, lurched and heaved and somehow reached the place he wanted to show me. Nice. We stopped at his farm for a while. He wanted to see his sheep (two), dogs (two), buffaloes (one or two, they never made an appearance), cabbages etc. I merely checked out the guava trees which have some of the sweetest and ate a couple. He was quickly done with the farm and we headed off bumping and bouncing.
On the highway I asked him in a confident voice what the plan was. It was almost 345 pm and we had rough rides so I thought he might want to fold in. He jauntily swerved the car towards Gandipet which has been reported in the local news as overflowing. It is not a huge dam or anything, just a lake that was full. But that is good enough. And so we drove for miles and miles, picked up some college kids with the most irritating ring tones, and landed up at Gandipet which was so crowded that you could not get out of the car. We dropped the kids and turned back, without seeing the water. What? This was not Koni. I would have done something like that, but not this guy. Not a word from him. He was all appreciation for all the other guys who were getting their families to see the lake. And once we hit the highway I knew his plans - he was going around the back of the lake! It was some fifty kilometres more certainly, and we did manage to see a small stretch of water at the back end of the lake. He stopped to buy 'fresh' vegetables from some local farmers meanwhile. I preferred to sit in the car and wait. And then we drove to him Chilkur land which was having an even more difficult access. We first cut across some open field, then followed a motorbike on a single bike track which was progressively getting narrower, slushier and more water logged. I think for the first time, he actually backed off from that road after a while, much to my surprise, saying that it was too risky. Getting old, Koni is.
We drove for a couple of hours after that, on roads that once had been there, trying to get back home, The traffic was crazy after we hit civilization but that did not bother him one bit. He was all praise for a new one way that had come into play at Krishna Nagar and shared a couple more new ideas on traffic management. Just before we stopped near my car at Srinagar he got another brainwave. How about coffee? I was too far gone by then and agreed. And before we got ten metres ahead, we got stuck in the biggest jam ever. Koni burst out into laughter and says 'Wonder whose face you saw when you got off the bed today.' I can do nothing but smile. Or better. Laugh. We had the coffee, ate some chaat, refreshed ourselves and he dropped me back.
Last I heard he was calling someone up and making plans for the later half of the evening. I crawled into my car and drove home. It can be rather hectic with Koni you know. I was thankful we did not have a flat, did not run of of fuel, did not have a breakdown, did not run into cops, or dacoits - all high possibilities when our man is around.
Things seem to be changing for the better.
Koni was all enthusiasm and told me that we will first drop in for a moment's work at Tank Bund where he was coordinating all the cranes for the Ganesh nimmajjanam. It is obviously an important job so I nodded and went along. Once we went to his mobile office, (a container that is nicely done up on the inside to serve as a mobile office), parked right outside NTR gardens I had this old sinking feeling. Outings with Koni, especially the 'just a moment ones' are notorious for all night, all day and if you have the time could take all week as well. Many times in our youth, when we had much time to spare, many of us got caught in these 'just a moment' jobs and before we knew it we were whisked off to some Godforsaken place in the middle of the night, with no place to sit, slapping away at mosquitoes, hoping for some food at some point, surviving on tea (if at all), sometimes holding torches, flashlights for the mechanics to work, carrying diesel and spare parts and many such jobs that are in the least enjoyable. Several times we got caught but we learned with experience and learned to stay away. But even to this day, some of us do get trapped in that 'just a moment' trap and its all deja vu after that.
One reason why Koni's 'just a moment's' are so famous is because he is so entertaining. He will have no money in his pocket. No diesel in his car. No support. No idea what he is doing (sometimes). Definitely no idea what the other guys are doing. But he will be all enthusiasm. He will never be in the least apologetic despite all the long faces you pull (I am the king of long faces and he has put up with that for decades now) and in fact laugh at your predicament. After sometime you realise that there is no use of that long face and you tend to join in with the laughter. Somehow he will get diesel on credit. Somehow he will get money on credit. Somehow we will be all feasting at some weird place which suddenly starts serving the most delicious food. I guess that is one of the advantages of his great enthusiasm and never-say-die attitude to life. One reason why its great fun to recount those trips with the incomparable Koni. The same trip for anyone else in the world - people would willingly slit their throats before doing anything like that. But with Koni its a totally different thing.
Anyway time ticked by slowly. At 1030 I pulled the first long face and drowned the mobile office with a disapproving silence. No one bothered. I looked for long at my mobile. I stared longingly at auto rickshaws. I sipped at the chai that was served. I looked hard at the sheaf of paper he was making small entries in and coordinating with other crane operators. I never once went close enough to peek at that sheet. (Now if Koni was in my position he would have read those papers thoroughly and given me a million suggestions on how to improve this whole operation, and then moved out and improved the situation outside as well.) The clock ticked to 1130. Just as I was shuffling in my place an associate came and a quick meeting was held. At 12 he wound up the meeting and announced that we were on the way out. I walked silently to the car. We took off and went around the island. 'Shit, no money,' he said and turned back. Familiar words. He stopped at the office and called his manager and asked him to get some money across. Again we turned the car around and off we went over the Khairtabad flyover when he got a call. 'Just now...abhi aa raha hoon...saab,' he said and turned back again. I told him that if it was a long meeting I'd head home. He assured me that it would be a short one. Thankfully it was.
And then he chose to take the longest, highest traffic density route to Shamshabad. We crawled through traffic at Moazzamjahi Market and bumped ourselves on really bad routes as we headed to Shamshabad. We finally stopped at 230 pm and grabbed some lunch at 'Nellore vari Mess' - a hot favourite with the man. Unfortunately the restaurant chaps were building a new place and had set up a temporary place by the side which was crammed to the gills even then. Lunch kind of softened me and we laughed our way through rain into some really dangerous roads. Of course he stuck his head out most of the time in the rain and yelled loudly in delight as the rain blew into him while I rolled my window up and kept out every drop of rain. After a while he looked at me bewildered and admitted that he was lost. And then he turned and took a turn into a road which was now resembling a small river. We went into big potholes, not knowing what was beneath, skidded on muddy roads, lurched and heaved and somehow reached the place he wanted to show me. Nice. We stopped at his farm for a while. He wanted to see his sheep (two), dogs (two), buffaloes (one or two, they never made an appearance), cabbages etc. I merely checked out the guava trees which have some of the sweetest and ate a couple. He was quickly done with the farm and we headed off bumping and bouncing.
On the highway I asked him in a confident voice what the plan was. It was almost 345 pm and we had rough rides so I thought he might want to fold in. He jauntily swerved the car towards Gandipet which has been reported in the local news as overflowing. It is not a huge dam or anything, just a lake that was full. But that is good enough. And so we drove for miles and miles, picked up some college kids with the most irritating ring tones, and landed up at Gandipet which was so crowded that you could not get out of the car. We dropped the kids and turned back, without seeing the water. What? This was not Koni. I would have done something like that, but not this guy. Not a word from him. He was all appreciation for all the other guys who were getting their families to see the lake. And once we hit the highway I knew his plans - he was going around the back of the lake! It was some fifty kilometres more certainly, and we did manage to see a small stretch of water at the back end of the lake. He stopped to buy 'fresh' vegetables from some local farmers meanwhile. I preferred to sit in the car and wait. And then we drove to him Chilkur land which was having an even more difficult access. We first cut across some open field, then followed a motorbike on a single bike track which was progressively getting narrower, slushier and more water logged. I think for the first time, he actually backed off from that road after a while, much to my surprise, saying that it was too risky. Getting old, Koni is.
We drove for a couple of hours after that, on roads that once had been there, trying to get back home, The traffic was crazy after we hit civilization but that did not bother him one bit. He was all praise for a new one way that had come into play at Krishna Nagar and shared a couple more new ideas on traffic management. Just before we stopped near my car at Srinagar he got another brainwave. How about coffee? I was too far gone by then and agreed. And before we got ten metres ahead, we got stuck in the biggest jam ever. Koni burst out into laughter and says 'Wonder whose face you saw when you got off the bed today.' I can do nothing but smile. Or better. Laugh. We had the coffee, ate some chaat, refreshed ourselves and he dropped me back.
Last I heard he was calling someone up and making plans for the later half of the evening. I crawled into my car and drove home. It can be rather hectic with Koni you know. I was thankful we did not have a flat, did not run of of fuel, did not have a breakdown, did not run into cops, or dacoits - all high possibilities when our man is around.
Things seem to be changing for the better.
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