Have(n't) you noticed? - #1

Mallus and the 'Vo'!
Mallu sterotypes include people who say “YEM BEEE YAY” (instead of “EM-BE-AY”, the way it’s supposed to be pronounced). But there’s something else I’ve noticed too. Well, I don’t know if it’s only a Mallu phenomenon (others can substantiate). Anyways, as far as I know we have a problem with ‘vo’. And by that, I mean English words that start with a ‘v’ followed by an ‘o’.

It’s as good as the ‘v’ not being there (or rather, it ‘remaining silent’).

Have(n’t) you noticed how it’s always ‘Odafone Comedy Stars’ ; or come election time candidates are literally begging for ‘otes’ (ottu…as in a popular song from the movie Classmates – Veeshana party-kk-ottilla; tholkkana party-kk-ottila…!); or how bad the power situation is, that most of the times there is no ‘oltage’???

Other V’s are fine, though – we have no qualms in saying Vicks or Video, the way it’s meant to be said!

The paradox, though, is that we start adding the ‘v’ sound to words that begin with a ‘o’ sound. It’s wokay, and wolright (alright), and not to forget a certain Biology teacher: GONOPHORE - Gee-Woh-Yen-Woh-Pee-Hech-Woh-Aar-Eee! ;-)

T-Shirt Quote

Recently I came across a quote – Don’t agonize. Organize. – and thought to myself that it would be a perfect T-shirt quote for me. Or even, The Devil is in the details.

So what quote would you like to have on your Tee?

Something that defines YOU?

(Not looking for the 'insult-the-readers' kind.)

Could be a quote, a phrase you use often, something amusing, etc.

Try to be original, though I’m not that clearly!

The Right Way...

... to write the initials of a person is as follows:

M.K. Gandhi - Correct

M K Gandhi - Correct (or rather, considered acceptable these days; but remember, the space is necessary)

M.K Gandhi - Incorrect!

Remember, initials are after all abbreviations, and M.K doesn't really suggest anything. Nor does Vijitha.V!

Speaking of which, when you write JFK, it is fine to write it without the periods!

(Confused? English is confusing!)

Simplicity!

I lost my debit card (something that happened a few days ago), and got it back too (!), all in a matter of… 60 seconds!

60 seconds because I realized that I had lost it, and then got it back, all at the same time. The funny thing is that I hadn’t realized it was missing until it was brought to my apartment. An Infoscion we know, who lives in the block next to ours, brought it to me. How? Her husband found it on the road!

You see, I’ve this purse that has a strap that can be slung around the wrist, and that’s how I usually carry it with me. There have been several times before where I’ve realized that I forget to zip it. So I’m assuming that’s what happened this time around too. I did some shopping near the other office and must’ve dropped it on the way back. But thankfully for me the card went into the right hands!

But then, I realized another thing. There is another MAJOR factor that ensured that I got that card back. My SIGNATURE!! Yes, that’s right. Go ahead, check your debit card if you don’t believe me. Barring that signature at the back, what can possibly (immediately) indicate who it belongs to??? I have always been advised by my dad to keep a “complicated” signature so that it cannot be forged (yes yes, he has a complex one!). I’ve been mocked by a few friends, because I literally “write my name” for a sign. Yea, my signature is a very-obvious Vijitha V. (in cursive writing!). I have not been successful at creating a signature that resembled a kid's doodle or scribble. Primarily because I can never, ever, reproduce the gibberishes I’ve tried the second time around (and there’s every possibility that I will be ‘caught’ for forgery if I’m unable to replicate my own signature)! So, sadly, I had resigned to the fact that my signature ain’t gonna be ‘fancy’ way back in 1999 (while renewing my passport, and subsequently for the Board Exams). But…THANK GOD for that! Simple is indeed beautiful!

So in short, these two things worked for me… Amen!

Relaxation...

What do you do when you feel you need some time by yourself?

When you feel you need to ‘relax’ or ‘unwind’?

When you feel you need to ‘sort things out’ in your head?

Read? Listen to music? Watch TV? Go on a drive? Talk to someone you’re close to?

I clean.

Alive

That is when he always felt most alive.

When the air rushed through his hair.
When he saw the world whiz past him in a sequence of blurs.
When he felt the sheer exhilaration of speed.

When he felt that he was suspended in space – feeling light, yet rooted.

He always enjoyed his journeys on the footboard of that bus.
But not for
Those tiring long hours of standing.

The pollution, the dust, the grime.

Being a constant lookout for the driver.

But for moments like these.

The several trips they made seemed tolerable only because of this. He always waited for the highways. Those were stretches of road he could stretch himself – extend his arm that clasped the handle of the door, outstretch the other arm, teeter at the edge of the last step…and take in the road and the winds, all to himself.

He was used to the typical stares and the perplexed looks on the faces of passengers… like right now. They probably think he’s absurd, weird or plain mad, he thought. He chuckled. As he looked inside the bus, he noticed a girl staring at him. That look in her eyes - he could not define. She did not seem shocked or amazed. And yet, her eyes were fixed on him, anticipating something. Ignoring that, he stretched his hands out and swung outside to catch the breeze.

The sound of a thud was heard. The bus screeched to a halt a few metres ahead.

That was the end of when he’d felt most alive.

Beautiful

“Do I look pretty mommy?”
“Why dear, you are the most beautiful girl in the whole wide world. And now… it’s time for your beauty sleep. Here’s Mr. Teddy!”. She kept aside the story book and tucked her in, nice and warm. She gave her the customary 'good night kiss'. 
“Good night sweety. I love you.”

“Love you too mommy.”

As the doors closed in quietly and it became dark, she looked outside the window into the starry night. She knew she had her angel with her… always. She knew that she did not look beautiful. And yet… she believed it. Because she knew her mother meant it every time she said it.

She closed her eyes shut and tried to think less of the day ahead of her tomorrow. One of those at the hospital for a chemotherapy session, to cure her of her leukaemia.

The Call

"Aap jis number par baat karna chaahte hai, woh call nahi utha rahe hai. Kripaya thodi der baad koshish kare."

"The number that you are trying to reach is currently not answering your call. Please try later."

Why don't they tell you why the number is not answering as well?, she rued. She had listened to this pre-recorded message for the sixth time today. She couldn't fathom what was keeping him so busy that he could not even attend a call, for how-so-ever brief a period. Or was it that he did not want to talk to her? She shuddered at that thought. She'd much prefer the first one.

Granted that a petty squabble had left both of them slightly hurt... and uncomfortable. But she knew that both of them usually bounced off it in no time.

She took her cellphone yet another time, certain that she'd listen to the unapologetic female monotone at the other end... but yet, praying and hoping that this time it'd be different.

*** *** ***

The phone rang again. The cellphone vibrated on a blood-stained male body against the steering wheel. On the seat beside him was a bunch of white lilies that had begun to fade; and a box with an engagement ring. The sound of the stream was the only other sound that broke the eerie silence...

Questions

He did not feel sleepy at all.

Despite the fact that it had been three days since he had slept. Despite the powerful sedatives he was given to calm himself down and get some rest, it was like he’d never been more alert in his life. He looked at his watch. 3:55 a.m. The hospital corridor seemed deserted at this hour of the day. Barring another woman sitting opposite him, no one was around. The old, once-white rickety bench creaked under his weight. He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting in the same spot, in the same manner. He vaguely remembered his family asking him to rest, to sleep; the nurse giving him those shots… But he was too scared to close his eyes, lest something bad should befall if he did. There were several questions that needed answers. And the only person who could possibly answer them lie on a white bed, shrouded in a white gown… in the ICU.

He tried to recollect that morning. Was there anything unusual that day? Or did he miss something? She was up early, as usual, and had his lunch prepared, packed and on the table by the time he got ready and sat down for breakfast. Then, he got busy with the newspaper. He did look up at her just the once, when she enquired if he wanted one more idli. Maybe she did seem a tad gloomy. Come to think of it, she had been less talkative for a while now. Funny that he hadn’t really noticed it… until now. And then that thought disturbed him – had he really stopped caring about her?? She was a regular presence in the house – like the furniture, or the upholstery. His sales job and the targets demanded so much of his time that he did not bother much about running their household…or about her. But she…she had been like a rock all this while – capable…dependable.

His mind wandered… and began to recollect the initial period of their married life. He knew he was a lucky man, for she had stepped into his life. But… how lucky was he for her? His heart writhed in the pain of his remorse. He could never forgive himself for being the reason why she decided to end her life… If only he had realized her true worth, maybe… He silently prayed to all those Gods he had detested. Taunted them even, to prove their existence. He knew he’d never wish for anything bigger in his life.

And before he knew, dawn broke. And slowly the hospital prepared itself for the maddening frenzy. People who suffered, and those who suffered because of them, buzzed around the place. He would hear the occasional wails and cries that terrified his already jaded nerves. Dr. Varma was approaching him. He scrutinized his face for some sign. Was it bad news or good? He couldn’t quite discern. “She has finally opened her eyes. You may see her now.” He just closed his eyes tight and clenched the doctor’s hands…unable to get a grip over his feelings. “And yes, she is weak and I cannot say anything conclusive just yet. It’s not advisable to get her excited or to overwhelm her. I would recommend that you see her and leave soon.”

As he stepped into the room he noticed the pale figure amidst all the medical paraphernalia. She turned her head towards the door, and their eyes met. She looked back at him… helplessly. All his questions disappeared. He folded his hands in forgiveness. He took her hands in his, and stayed with her for a while. She knew that things would change… for the better. And they both sobbed quietly, washing away all their worries.

One Beautiful Morning...

It’s summer. I wake up to the chirping of the birds that I’m used to at this time of the year. I rub my eyes open and stretch myself. I go upto the window and look out. A few of the regulars are on their rounds of morning walk. I drum idly on the window sill and look back at the bed. He’s still asleep. I feel the urge to wake him up. And what better way than to kiss! He smiles…and I know he’s awake now, alright.

“What do you want for breakfast, hon?”

“You really don’t have to make me breakfast. I can have it from the office, you know. Don’t bother. Sleep some more.”

By the time I’m out of the shower, I realize that breakfast is almost ready. The smell of sausages, fried eggs and toast waft in the house. Umm-hmmmm… my favourite. He really didn’t have to…

As I step into the kitchen I see him seated at the kitchen table, waiting for me to join in. Breakfast is served and he begins to ask me about my day at office yesterday. And I think to myself – I am indeed lucky. Being a very skilled and creative graphic designer he had managed to find himself quite a number of freelance assignments that let him work from home. It was I who went to office, and yes, my job paid better. All that didn’t concern him. He enjoyed what he did. Period. I can’t say that about myself, though. But the money was important to me… to us.

He pours me my second glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. And all my intentions to resist fail. He knows me all too well, I shouldn’t even try to fuss… I smile. We begin catching up on friends and family. I just wished we’d get some more time to spend with each other. Suddenly he stops mid-sentence, and looks at the clock on the wall.

 “... and what Susan told me after that… I will tell you when you’re back! You don’t want to be late for the ‘all-important meeting’, now, do you??” Oh, nooo… I sigh and reluctantly pick up my bag. “You better finish your tale when I’m back mister!” He grins. “Yea, yea…run along now. See you soon!”

He comes to the door to see me off. “Now you go and do your work too!”, I shout from the car. He does a thumbs-up. As I pull away I look back and catch him turn around his wheel-chair and go in.