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Wednesday, November 10, 2010

My adventures with the Scooty and the Spikebuster

I had watched quite a lot of movies that week, entertaining ones at that. The moment I finish watching a movie, I feel an insurgent urge to comment on it. My pen, both instinctively and instantaneously, gets to work. But it was one of those rare days when my passion for cinema overcame my passion for writing. The urge to write was kicked downhill by the infinite thrust I experienced to delve into another movie. I had watched quite a few classics and a comment was long overdue. My prolonged abstinence from recollecting the highlights of those works of art by giving them a verbal form proved two things- one, the sheer quality of the movies I had been watching, as they had kept me away from my second greatest passion in life- writing (the first one, like it was for most Indian kids, was cricket). The second thing, a very queer and important fact I must add, is beyond the realms of my memory now! I assure you that the second factor is of supreme importance and that my mind seems to have lost track of the x-factor, though my inner conscience keeps telling me that it is something imperative.

But something stopped me from watching another flick- maybe the tired sub-conscious which was not quite able to appreciate the prospect of sitting in front of the monitor for another 90-150 minutes. So I turned to teen’s best friend in times of a catch-22 situation- the internet! Just when I placed myself comfortably on the couch and started breezing past political commentaries laced with satire and humour, my mom’s outline appeared behind the screen. “Enna maaa?” I said in disgust, extending the last syllable to outrageous limits to make my stance clear. She wanted to take a printout and since my Spikebuster had self-busted, I wasn’t able to connect my modem and printer simultaneously. So I was ORDERED by my dad to hit the streets to get a new Spikebuster. I painstakingly overcame the inertia that had resulted out of long hours in front of the computer. It was one of those exasperating days when I wasn’t able to hit the cricket field as it kept drizzling incessantly and it wasn’t raining hard enough for me to place a chair in front of the grill gate and enjoy it torment the streets. These incomplete things in life, painted with emulsions of deficiency always aggravated me. I love the extremes. The medians and means always end up infuriating me.

And so I took my Scooty out and twisted the throttle with all the ennui in the world as the vehicle zoomed forward. Its sudden jerk killed the intrinsic inertia and incepted a fresh lease of life. Every speck of hair on my hand stood up in response to the small drops of rain as a photoreceptive plant would stand up to the first beams of sunlight that penetrate the earth’s atmosphere. I raced to Nithya electricals and electronics, the only shop of that kind in my neighbourhood. After a brief negotiation regarding the price, an altercation I should say, as negotiation would be a diplomatic term, we zeroed in on a apposite price. I carefully placed the newly-bought object in my dashboard. My face glittered with an aura of pride and satisfaction of having settled a decent deal. The deceased inertia, the newfound zeal and an inherent voice took control over me as I took a detour and went up the incline of the newly constructed bridge instead of heading straight back home. I had always loved the view of the busiest part of my village, which was slowly moving up the ranks. It was now prosperous and portentous enough to be called a town. I could sense the village, ahem, the town, gleaming with all the pride and arrogance in the world. The bridge divides the two distinct parts of my village town- on one side is the market place and the characteristic development indicated by the economic sumptuousness. On the other side is the authentic village- the part which is trying its best to maintain the soul of my place, the identity. The village side has sprawling paddy fields, an old temple, two, no, three of them in fact, scintillating springs that silence your ego, stop you and make you salute the great one who created it and so on. I slowly descended down the bridge and bliss-filled men and women with traits of innocence looming large on their faces welcomed me into the other “world”. Children rode tyres and made strange sounds as I zoomed past. The great banyan tree stood right there, with all the majesty in the world. I paused to look at the fuel-meter. The tank was half full. My mind though, had its tank full. It was over-flowing with all positive thoughts, my mind in perfect confluence with Mother Nature. The rain turbo-charged my mind as I meandered down the shining roads, humming or should I say yelling, my favourite tunes. I presumed that a lot of curious eyes were glaring at me. Only, I was too busy to notice. It was the perfect time to ride, the raindrops rubbed against my arms and the feeling was similar to the one that we experience when the petals of flowers rub against our body. This was even better as it was soft, ideally chill and titillating at the same time.

I started behaving like a madman. I yelled and waved at the children in the street. The children returned the yells and the waves whereas curious looks were all that I got from senior pros. I got a feel of heaven as the Speedo-needle rose up to 40 and the colour green dominated both sides of the road. The visuals, the breeze, the temperature, the rain, everything around me seemed perfect. My typically occupied mind which is forever full of thoughts and ideas went blank. I forgot the vehicle, the surroundings and myself for those few moments. I was enlightened enough to experience those moments that spelt bliss- total, eternal, perpetual and complete bliss! And then the stupid Spikebuster, which I thought I had kept safely in my dashboard wrapped in a cover, slipped out from nowhere. I caught it on the verge of a fall. Some emotion filled my mind as I caught the stupid thing- something that was too mild to be termed anger. The extension of that emotion made me take a u turn. Again, the absence of thought processes and the sheer inability to think of anything, even when thrust upon by deliberation, staggered me. I wasn’t able to think of anything and my mind was devoid of any kind of thought! Suddenly, my Scooty stopped in front of a temple. One of those three I had mentioned. I walked into it and went behind it. There I saw, my gentlemen, one of the greatest sights that my eyes had witnessed. The lake, in all its glory, looked like a sea, an ocean. Waves hit the steps that were constructed on the shore with humongous force. A strong and steady breeze was blowing and there I stood as if I had been stupefied. As if the whole purpose of my life was to stand there and watch the action unwind in front of me. Quite an intimidating sight it was! The rain started intensifying as I regained “consciousness” and moved my hood over my head. I quickly rode back home and as I entered the threshold of my street, I saw my dad sporting a worried expression. He said something as I raced past him. I hadn’t taken my phone along (thankfully) and as expected, he was concerned. He said something as I sped past. I didn’t care to stop and listen because I was quite sure that he would start scolding me the moment he stepped into the house. I saved myself some aural strain and in the process, saved my dad some energy. He came back home and events rolled out one by one just as I expected them to! The Spikebuster was installed, the printout was taken and as is the case always, chaos reigned soon after.

3 comments:

  1. fantastic , superb, tremendous .......................... ther is no end.

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  2. i bet within a year or two u will write a novel(award winning)
    i wish u were here. i wud have told u everything personally.
    u have a bright future . go ahead. i will be always there to support u.
    i just envy u.
    i'm really proud of u.
    my best wishes.

    ReplyDelete
  3. @sapna mam: thank u very much! and i don think i have the patience to write a novel, leave alone winning awards!

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