Ganpati bappa morya!

 

Penciling a pencil's tale!

The pencil is your longest companion. Pens came later in life, and much later, the gadgets. Even now, you do pick up a pencil. Someone calls, and you need to urgently jot down the phone number. At arms-reach, is the stationery-stand. It is cluttered with an untidy mix- half a dozen pencils, outdated pens, and crayon-stumps.

The pencil is the tallest and you pick it up. The rule is crystal clear- “A functional home cannot have a functional pencil!” The first pencil has no tip and must be cast away. The next one is overly blunt that makes it illegible. The following one is sharpened to a pinpoint, but the moment you place it on paper, it buckles at the ankle and the lead-shoe slips off! “Not one pencil will work in this home!” you shoot your mouth off. It is too late- the generalization has inflammable ramifications for the rest of your day!

Meanwhile, you have asked the phone number to be repeated thrice. If all goes well with the pencil, it falls in the “2H” category. "HB" is the most utilitarian type.  The 2B variants are bold and bright and serve the artist’s purpose. The 2H serves none. You never buy them intentionally. Absentmindedly, you pick up a box of pencils, and the 2H comes home. A 2H cannot write- at best, it can scratch the paper.

You can trash as many pencils as you want. However, pencils are tenacious fellows. They claw their way back into the stationery-stand and laze around. The next time you pick up a pencil, it will still be non-functional!

There is surely a nexus between the pencil and sharpener manufacturer. Sharpeners have a singular purpose- to erode the pencil till it is dwarfed to a stub and must be thrown away. You twirl the pencil a few times. You see the tip getting sharpened. One more twirl and you have gone beyond the edge. The tip falls off and you are back to square one! We do not know who is the bigger prankster- the pencil or the sharpener. In tandem, they are double trouble!

Pencils are reminders to a distant past, when pencils were greenish-blue in color or with red-and-black stripes. There was one variety dressed in white with floral patterns. It broke the gender stereotype in the world of pencils!

Students were innovative. They sharpened the pencil at both ends to serve as a double engine! When students day-dreamed, they chewed the pencil-head. There was no need to write your name on the pencil. Each pencil was unique- the pencil-head reduced to the bone and embossed with the owner’s distinct teeth-marks.

You borrowed another’s pencil at your own peril!

The lift

The lift is a sullen place. The moment you enter a lift, something snaps. Cheery people turn poker faced. The talkative man is silenced. Couples who looked into each other’s eyes, dewy-eyed, stand apart. Argumentative spouses opt for a truce. It is as if, there is a stay-order on everything. You stand grim and solemn, with the gaze firmly on the feet. No is related to anyone- we are perchance fellow-travelers in the lift’s journey through the floors! Such is the lift’s inexplicable impact!

It is surprising that a lift with so many buttons, should have no provision to “undo” a floor selection. Sometimes, your finger accidentally hits a floor-button. But once pressed, there is no way to correct the mistake. You have little choice but to watch the lift meander its way listlessly, much like a passenger train.

Time is at a premium in the morning. You have just those few seconds to get to the office-cab. That’s when the lift is at its slowest! You press the ground-floor button with all your strength, hoping some secret-sauce will kick in, to avoid stopping at other floors. Murphy’s law grins at you even more. The lift stops at each floor, while you clench your jaw, impatience writ all over the face!

A lift has its absent-minded professors, who stay glued to the cellphone. Each time the lift halts, our professor strides out. Just when the lift is about to shut, there is a frantic shuffle of feet. The professor outside is all worked up, trying to pry open the door. He sticks his hand and foot and risks every part of his anatomy. Professor suddenly discovered that this was not his floor after all!

A lift ride is never complete without a stop at an empty floor. The door swings open, but there is none. Time hangs like eons. Eyebrows knit, you repeatedly blink, wondering what happened. Perhaps, someone changed his mind and took the stairs instead?

If it happens at the dead of night, it does not get spookier. You turn around and tell your fellow lift-traveler, “They say this floor is haunted! Years ago…” and leave the sentence dangling! Your lift mate’s face turns pale and once the lift comes to a halt, he bolts out like a frightened deer!

I have often toyed with the idea to greet the empty space on some such unscheduled lift-halt with loud, animated banter, “Long time buddy! Good to see you!” As a draft of air flows in, and the lift closes to the emptiness, you turn around and spot scared feet retreat to a corner!

It is good to add that feather of mystique to your personality!

 

Crossing the road!

Crossing the road in India is not for the faint-hearted. It requires timing and judgement and above all, a sportsman’s agility. Schoolbooks have lovely pictures that show pedestrian rules, like using the zebra crossing. The ground reality is different. Zebra crossings are non-existent or if present, they are meant for zebras! Humans need to cross the road the hard way.

“Look to the left and right before crossing” is prudent advice, especially meant for our “one-way roads”. Invariably, there is someone driving the opposite way confidently. You have no choice but to watch out for this goon!

Metros with their multi-lane roads demand immense patience. All the lanes never clear up at the same time. But street dogs are street smart and have mastered the technique. They effortlessly maneuver one lane at a time, stop at that precarious point between the two lanes, wait till the next one clears, and so on. Once they are on the other side, they cast a triumphant glance at humans, still stranded at the opposite end. After all, every dog has his day!

Hesitation can be your worst enemy. You feel you can make it across and take bold strides. Midway through the road, you get the jitters and beat a hasty retreat. It is like a batsman who wants to steal a single, but changes his mind, half-way down the pitch! In the process, he puts himself and his runner at risk.

One brave approach is to run a 100-meter sprint like Usain Bolt. But fellow pedestrians warn you, “Never run across the road!” The advice is counterproductive. You wait for a clearing, but there’s none. There are cars and more cars, stretching all the way to the horizon, ad infinitum!

Someone alongside you has decoded the method to the madness. He blindly walks onto the road with an upheld hand. It seems an act of absolute foolishness, but it works! Miraculously, the cars avoid him, and he reaches the promised land!

Another trick is to use a fellow-pedestrian as a human shield. You leave the onus of decision making to him. You stick to him, and ape his movement, step for step. It is like the strategy that Arjuna used. He propped up a fellow soldier Shikhandi, as a human shield, to combat Bheeshma! The method works like a charm!

After 30 minutes of indecision and false starts, you finally made it! The euphoria is short-lived. You suddenly discover on your cellphone map, that your destination is on the other side of the road. You need not have crossed the road at all. You just had to walk ahead a few meters!

Some mistakes in life are costly!

 

Of guavas and trains!

When it comes to fruits, India has an embarrassment of riches. Traditionally, banana, mango and jackfruit are considered the Big-3. Guava may seem an innocuous contender. But on its day, guava can favorably compete against every opponent and even win hands down!

Guava’s appeal is that unlike the other fruits, it can be gobbled whole! You can bite right into it, unlike jackfruit, that requires enormous effort just to get to the edible portion. Most fruits require that optimum wait-time, till it is ripe for consumption. How many times have you cut a mango and felt, if only you could have waited another day or two! With Guava, raw or ripe, either way, it is just perfect! Also, it is a pan-India fruit. The guava variety found in South India is just as delightful as the famed “Allahabad amrood”!

It is late afternoon. The Mumbai-Chennai Mail snakes its way through the pastoral countryside and halts at Kondapuram. Vendors peddling tea and coffee shout themselves hoarse to entice the customers. The guava vendor has no such problem. The aroma of delicious guavas wafts in the air and announces itself, well before the vendor’s arrival. He eventually reaches the coupe and lowers the basket. It is heaped with succulent guavas. Each guava is mouthwatering, lush green in color, and pocked with water droplets that glisten like crystal beads!

The guavas are irresistible, and everyone clamors for one. The vendor props up a guava and makes precise incisions at the top. He stuffs it with a mixture of salt and chili powder.  Children can hardly wait for their turn. In the excitement, one child drops the guava and watches it roll down the train’s aisle! “What is the tearing hurry? Now, you cannot eat that guava!” parents admonish and ask for a fresh guava!

The elderly gentleman on the side berth observes the entire scene impassively. He laments, “I don’t have the teeth for guava anymore! The seeds get lodged in my molars!” Soon, he succumbs to guava’s temptation and wants one too! The vendor is pleased as he makes brisk business.

Guavas are immensely tasty- both the rind with its rough texture and the pulpy insides! A dash of salt gives that added kick and leaves a mild tingling sensation on the lips! Before you know, you have swallowed the guava in full and stretched your hand for more. “You have already eaten 2 guavas! Any more guavas and you will have a stomachache!” parents warn.

Guavas are a complete meal, so filling that you decide to skip dinner at Guntakal Junction. The train hurtles past the arid terrain.  Guava’s pleasant aftertaste lingers as you peer out of the window.