The year that was...

31.12.2014

2014 for me was a year with specs of happiness dotting a generally dull canvas. Though the tone of the written word depends on the state of mind when written, this all-pervading despondence is really not the result of a lone bad day. There is a poignant metaphor “talking about drowning to a parched tongue”, and I would understand if this metaphor is the only thing that comes across as the essence of it  after reading. My problems might be small,But I’m still drowning and drowning kills.

Mid last year, Frustrated and almost disoriented with the low paying job I had, I quit and joined another that promised me a good pay. The trade-off was a drop in job satisfaction but with a lot of time in hand to gather my bearings and find out what I wanted to do with my life. A breathing space if you may. The buoyancy of successfully pulling off this change lasted well into the start of this year. There was a palpable optimism and I couldn’t care less about the world around me.

Some convictions over time have a way of morphing into seeds that eventually grow into these nagging doubts affecting the same convictions. As the year dragged on, I started feeling the uneasy “what have I gotten myself into” in my gut. Being used to a culture of breakneck efficiency and thankless returns, the shift of jobs, instead of giving me a chance to breathe and contemplate about my future, ironically cast severe doubts on where I was heading with my life. This new life: the job that i had gleefully gotten into was slow and the standards of efficiency, ancient. Over time, an abject stolidity settled over me which turned pretty stubborn, when I tried to wear it down; my bleak efforts proving futile.

The end of 2013 ended on such a high. I was happy with how my plans at the start of the year, had panned out. Some of them, wild, even inside the framework of dream space, came true. I practically cavorted into 14 from 13. But, in contrast, I don’t feel like facing 15. There is a vacuum which I want to fill, to make 2014 more meaningful. One year of my life has just gone by, and I have nothing, absolutely nothing to show for it. All my resolve breaks when I think about this.

The thing about time is it makes a lot of our decisions irreversible; the result of which is that the mind, when faced with setbacks, paints a silver lining around positively depressing days while simultaneously drawing out a depressing picture of our lives as we live it now. “Maybe I should have stayed back”, “maybe I should have waited for a few more months”, “is this what you really want?”, “you can’t go back now even if you wanted”, “what about 30 years from now?”, “was your decision really worth it?”.  After all this, when your self-doubt has finished assaulting you, you are bashed up by figments of conversations from memory. “You can still shift back”, “It is ok, come back”, “I know how this would turn out, that is why I didn’t take it up”.

Nothing hurts me more than “I know this would happen”, because deep down, I knew too. Sometime back in the early 2013, I just wanted to let go, I realised I had enough of "caution and pragmatism" in life. Even with all the emotions running high, I believed, I had taken a sustainable decision. A decision that would still land me running, were I to fall short in my ‘leap of faith’. Unfortunately, as it turned out in 2014, I never took the 'leap'. I ended up finding myself standing still, watching the others fly by me instead.

I realized that the expectations, the pressure of performance and the pressure of conformity can be easily piled onto oneself just by thinking about it. In reality, these need not exist at all. But, once the idea is planted, it festers in your head, it just refuses to leave. A wall blocks out even the most benign, sane or gentlest of suggestions. You are easily outraged and find that everyone is out to get you.  The world becomes sad and lonely. You are unable to let people in, taking offence and suspecting every opinion of trying to tamper with your ‘ideals’ that are etched in stone. As more and more opinions are thrown at you, your objectivity is lost and the mind finds solace in reclusiveness, misinterpreting and bending even innocuous facts into a potential weapon of proselytization.

Sitting in my office the right now, typing this, I realise, I have lost a lot of things. First and foremost, the meaning of what I considered my duty to the country (big words, but true). A sense of giving back and a feeling of being part of a bigger scheme of things - the two emotions that drove me through the first three years of work, taken away in the first three months here. Slowly, in the next few months, all that was left was abject cynicism and a general apathy towards all things living. A mask functioned, earned my livelihood while the face, slept and started fading away. The more I think about it, the enormity of all this, the more I stop functioning coherently.

Money, position, power as my colleagues like to call it drives people who are already primed for it. I have nothing against them. Not having really been tested in terms of money, till now, I find it inconsequential as long as there is enough to sail the boat. What is ‘enough’? I hope I trust my instinct on ‘enough’ and let it go at that. Power? It should have come naturally or at least should have been thrust upon me at some point in my life for me to experience the drug. Unfortunately this has eluded me, partly due to my hesitation and partly due to happenstance. So, I’m left with preaching happiness as an end to anything we do. The whole idea of ‘happiness’, resting on flimsy grounds of subjective interpretation.

One of the things I resolved to do a few years back was to attribute anything and everything that happened to me, to my actions and my actions alone. I endeavoured to remove the supernatural from my equations, at least for the time being. This led to a lot of agony, when the hard truth hit, but also gave me great happiness and contentment when things did go well. This also gave me moments of great hope in times of despair when I knew that my fate rested with me and I always had control, if I chose to wield it. It just so happens that right now, the ‘will’ to soldier on has faltered a bit and the control has slipped off, just a little.

Come Thursday, a New Year starts, bringing with it so much hope for the hopefuls. 2015 will start slowly for me. But, enough of ze maudlin me. I am making a pact with myself, as I write, to leave no stones unturned to fill up 2015 with something, I don’t know what it is now, but something. Stuff and nonsense. Even if it means more of nonsense than stuff. Take stock, giddiyup and end 15 in a canter.I will take strength from the fact that, however bleak 2014 was, I still managed to retain all my friends, well almost all, I still have people who love me; I’m still cared for. I managed to get really comfortable in the kitchen. Tried and failed, but tried nevertheless to learn music; something I will look forward to continue in 2015. Furthermore I’m optimistic about my travel plans for the coming year too. To just pack up and get away, get lost in another unexplored city, in a sea of humanity that is alien to me, blissful. I still haven’t lost my passion for music and am looking forward to some fresh sounds in the coming year. This whole ‘Music’ thing in the middle of this narrative might seem very much unrelated to the larger scheme of this ramble, but happiness is my goal, isn’t it? The fact remains that the two cans I purchased at the start of this year have brought me the maximum satisfaction. I shall also look forward to some good times with another ‘asset’ I acquired, my camera. Here goes a small wish for better portraits this year. One of my achievements, if I may use the word has been this blog. The posts have been regular and it has never been idle for more than a month. Readers? Subscribers? Well, it is a process, I will get there, someday. I just need to soldier on. No pain, No gain. I have also become ‘Zen’ about all those things, anyway (not).

As for a plan, I have none. It might be a blessing in disguise. But at the stroke of midnight today, I shall take a deep breath and accept things as they are. Most of us are not satisfied with something or the other in our lives. So what if my work is boring, it has its perks and positives.

I will take another deep breath and trust my gut, the way I have done in the past. My life is not a derelict shack yet, that I have to reconsider rebuilding it; a paint job would suffice for now.

I will draw in the last of these deep breaths before it becomes a bit weird, and scream off all the shackles holding me down, scream out all the negativity and scream out happy New Year. All inside my head, of course.

I'm taking a sure step forward, into 2015; the way you step into unknown territory when you realize you have no other option and nothing to lose. All of us live to die one day. I would like to live as this person whose actions were true to the life he led and didn’t delude himself into thinking more of it that what it actually was.(Is 26 is too early an age to turn to philosophical chicanery?)

An eternal optimist, this is me hoping for a good year, fresh mornings, beautiful sunsets, clear skies with twinkling stars and full moons and holding hands with the people I love. 

aaaaa fireee

(One morning, all bleary eyed, I walked up to the wash basin at the nearer of the two ends. After theatrically splashing my face with water and admiring myself on the mirror with the water rolling down my face, I caught sight of  a lone hammer, held captive, balefully staring out of the open door. Below the glass casing was written : "hammer for breaking the window glass for emergency exit" . My cognitive powers had not peaked as yet as it was still pretty early in the morning and my pausing and parsing was going all wrong...)

From my travel diaries : Exigency plan for a burning train (a step by step guide to exit through the emergency exit)

What to do when the AC coach catches fire?

Aaaaaaaaaaah fire… eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee save meeeeeeeeeeee?

No , this is not the right response. what is the right way? read on.

• Don’t panic. Stay put. Take a deep breath. Let it out, see whether that blows off the fire. No?  "NOOOO.WHAT DO I DO NOW?"  you enquire politely.
• Keep calm. You are in an AC coach, maintain your dignity. Politely apprise your co-passenger of the situation in crisp English. "Fire fire aaag aag (with appropriate hand gesticulation)"
• Next, look for an escape. Emergency windows are located near the ends of all AC coaches. Locate it.
• Once you have located it, collect your wits, get a hold of yourself and move on. you need to find the hammer. The hammer at the end of the compartment.The light at the end of the tunnel. (Send a small prayer to make sure you are moving towards the right end as the hammer is placed only at one end sometimes).
• The seconds are ticking by.Run. Courage favours the brave, brave favours the fortune, no fortune favours the brave. Don’t be confused like this, be calm. Proceed to the exit. Avoid stampede. Make a single file. Sing 'fire in the mountain' and people will run run run, Run along with them. 
• Now pay attention.The next step has the distinction of extracting an expletive out of every person who has tried it, realized the stupidity of all this and saved himself, by jumping out of the train. But you are cultured, you speak fluent English. So when you see 'this'… don’t panic. 
• 'This'

The hammer with DIY instructions on top.





• ’this’ that you see near the door might seem like one of Jigsaw’s wicked schemes, it is if you think about it… but you become a better person for it.
• Wipe off the stray tear that has trickled down. Fight the overwhelming urge to jump off the train. It might just be two steps away,tantalisingly close, but it is not the right thing to do. Be stupid, be noble and don’t be shallow. 17 virgins are waiting for you in heaven (it is not a good thing, you are actually gay). Don't cry. Don't die 
• Clear you head, Take a close look:

'Break the glass'
How?
With a key (please observe the picture closer)
No key.
Coin?
Ok… Doesn't work, sweaty hands...
Scratch with nails ya…
Aaah that sound makes me uneasy.
Ok break it with your shoulder.

Cool beans.

• Once you have the glass out of your way take out the hammer. A small word of advice here, please don’t pause here.Why? You would look extremely stupid standing with a hammer after breaking a glass for it.There is no 'save' for you. Rush back into the inferno, against the tide, against common logic, against your faith. Trust Indian railways. This is the moment of truth.
• Find a window, swing the hammer back, aim and let it rip. You should have a good, free swing now that most of your friends have already jumped their way out of the coach through the doors.

*CRACK*

Take another swing

*crack*

Another one

*crack*

With all your might

*SPLINTER*

• Get out, the heavens will open, the rain will pour; and my friend you will remember, Hope is a good thing, may be the best of things and no good thing ever dies.

The epic war of spices, The final Solution

History never lies. A period of peace is always followed by war and the following paragraphs, as a mark of this impending violence, further ahead, may be accentuated by many commas violating the peace of small and simple sentences.

The people of Andhra loved kara kozhambu. They enjoyed it so much that they decided to ask for the recipe. Now, it is human tendency to balk in the glory of your success for some time; especially when you hold all the aces.
Polite rejection:

“Thambi enga vandhirkeeha?? (where have you come? brother)”
“Naaku recipe kavali ( I want the recipe)”
“No”

The actual exchange:
“Thambi enga vandhirkeeha?? ( where have you come?)”
“Naaku recipe kavali ( I want the recipe)”
“For what?”
"Kara korambu"
"What?"
"Kara kolambu?"
"Haha what?"
"Kara kodambu"
"Hahaha Pronounce it correctly and we will see"
"Kara kombu (hot horn, in tamil)"
"You can go ask angry cows for that"
*storms off*

The Telugu vadus(people) found the 'ழ' (zha) of the tamil horribly difficult to pronounce. Even though, a lot of native Tamil speakers didn’t pronounce it correctly, the tamil took great pleasure in making fun of the telugu folk. This derision was so rampant that the guests were becoming a bit uncomfortable with the hospitality. Added to that, they were also fast becoming the butt of xenophobic jokes; the laughing stock(of kara kozhambu), if you may.

One starry night, in an open bar, as in, one without a roof, at the edge of madras, 'unknown' by the name Ennore, a portmanteau of enna and ooru (what + place),a gruff, drunk voice broke out amid the general buzz of gibberish.

“Let us show them kuzka’s mutton” roared ABCD Raju. By now, people with two initials in Andhra had begotten kids with three initials and ABC Dharma Raju decided to add a fourth one by shortening his name for good fortune.
“Is it kulka?” inquired his diminutive friend, afraid of the lampooning that might follow later
“No Kuzka, Kuska I think… Eh whatever, let us show them that ra…” Raju retorted.

Confusion followed conniption which was further followed by commotion. It is believed that, following the war cry, all hell broke loose and Raju, in the middle of the resulting melee, vowed just deserts for all the repression and ridiculing. People still talk about the crazy eyes of ABCD Raju on that night. This particular expression can still be found on the expressive faces of the villain characters of telugu and tamil cinema. On that day though, ABCD Raju, who had powerful, in fact very powerful, political friends, went back to plot his revenge.

One note: no more, no less: No one knows what Mr Raju meant by kuska, he was pretty drunk on that day. Later though, this kuska became widely used to refer to chicken biryani without chicken, mutton biryani without mutton or vegetable biryani without vegetables, a total waste, reminding one of the ‘total waste’- ness of the uproar that day.

The small outrage in a nameless place, north of madras, had suddenly rekindled the rage that had been dormant all this time. People bayed for blood in the streets. The fight threatened the whole of south India. The sleeper cells of the weapons divisions, disbanded a decade ago were woken up for what would be later be referred to the Machilipatnam project (1975). A project whose aim was to settle the spice war once and for all.

The 'solution' was called 'TsarGonkura' or Emperor Gonkura(This is now deployed in a controlled environment for civil consumption as Gonkura pachadi). Originally developed in the labs under highly secure surveillance with great care, this project was a first of its kind. The raw materials were procured from various parts of Andhra with the best of available quality. In a rare show of intelligence, they were transported in public vehicles like busses, to avoid detection by spies. Some of these busses, in state of derelict disrepair are still running today reminding the few who know, of its glorious past.

The Tsar Gonkura had a three stage core. A sour base, a fissile red chili paste and an oil tamper. This was designed to obliterate the entire intestine by the time it reached the rectum. The design was slightly modified later, just before testing, to lessen the impact on the native civilian population as it would have otherwise been detrimental to a ‘show of strength’ if no one could ever eat it. The first test was carried out in a controlled manner beside the river Godavari with large amounts of ‘ice water’ reserves (the river water flowing just a few feet away acting as a back up).

A news report on the first test conducted at an undisclosed location on the river bank of Godavari 50 KM from Rajamundry(1979):

“Within seconds after the ball of Gonkura touched the palate, a blood curdling yell was heard that shattered the windshields of busses moving peacefully across the Godavari bridge. This was followed, almost instantaneously, by the face turning bright red and water condensing at the eye level flowing down like the river Godavari. The fall-out lasted for days with the ensuing diarrhea refusing to respond to all known medication. The yell was so loud that it was recorded at a Kashmir radio station, listeners of which disregarded it as a particularly long and irritating static noise. Shammi Kapoor Who was holidaying there, was believed to have mobilized his men to look around for the prankster making fun of him.”

The news of this test shook everyone up. None more than the neighbouring state, which faced an imminent threat. Fearing insanity if the war continued any longer, the Tamil population conceded their defeat. A treaty was signed in 1980 to start making sweets instead. This unwittingly saved a million lives; probably more, if you included the ‘adventurous’ foreign tourists who might have wanted to get a taste of the local cuisine. Many recipes were exchanged by both sides during the signing of treaty as a goodwill gesture. By the early 80s as a result of the white flag, the three part composition used in Tsar Gonkura was successfully deployed for peaceful purposes; many new pickles were created and to great success.

In Andhra the experiments still continued. Avakkai was used instead of Gonkura to increase the sourness of the base; this was however channelized to constructive use with curd rice, delivering gastronomic kicks, going down with the cool curd rice. As a result of the pact, new research was initiated in making sweets like the complicated Pothereklu.

Over the years, many other chutneys, mixes, concoctions of various intensities have been reported across India. There are unsubstantiated claims of an Englishman running around like a colloidal particle after having a taste of the marathi “thecha” made from chili and garlic. Till date though, Tsar Gonkura remains the wildest and hottest concoction made by sane humans etching out a permanent place in the Indian folk lore.

~fin