Sunday, August 20, 2006

Weekends

Weekends are anomalies. They arent normal. Probably, a deal of Satan and God. An indulgence forced upon humanity. Why ? Read on ..

The probability that it is a weekend when you lazily open your eyes in the morning is 2/7 (~0.285), compare this to a weekday probability, 5/7 (~0.715) ! We, the humans, the machines, the robots, have an inclination towards believing something that is favoured by statistics. You getting what I am coming at ? No ?... wait.

You DONT expect it to be a day where you've nothing to DO. Life falls out of gear. You get up late, first victim is the breakfast, next your cleanliness, then yor lunch and the evil game of the devil stops in the night. I suspect, He smiles. By then you have already resorted to some kind of intoxication, are confused and are wondering what went wrong. Though the results of a detailed scientific investigation are awaited, I would go overboard and conclude - weekends have a tendency of leaving gullible individuals distraught, confused and overwhelmed.

I suspect it finds roots in weak-ends. Meaning the ends of the week where one finds oneself weak enough to stop thinking reasonably. Difficult to believe, even Gods are not beyond such bizzare weekend phenomena.

Just to quote few of the numerous bizzare things that happened over this weekend -
- Sea water at Mahim Beach turns sweet. Under investigation
- Idols turn into babies, drink milk. Again. Under investigation
- I turn into a daal, non-edible kind. Under investigation.

Weekends !

Monday, August 14, 2006

The Black Goat - Revisited

This was posted on one of my blogs around a year ago. This happens to be the first anniversary of this accident. Yes, It was the same 15th August induced long weekend. As is usual, the young and vibrant ones of us decided to freak out. Looking back, it was a fun trip, at least as much fun as a long-outstation drive can be. Usual dumb-charades, old friend jokes, prof bashing etc. It was the end which made it sour.

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Lingayappa gives his hand a full swing and a stone starts its trajectory towards the double glassed front of sumo. The goat that we hit had most probably died. Villagers behind are just not ready to give up in their marathon for money. By the time the stone shatters the glass, Lingayappa (or whoever he is) is ready with another one , this time targetting the people sitting inside. Everyone ducks as we go past him and thankfully no damage, to the glass or to the tourists on their way to kill time and goats if they find any. After a turn two buses stand, side by side. A potential danger, hearts sink for a minute. Fortunately, one of them moves a bit away making way for us .. the accidental culprits. Every potential block , even a cyclist driving by the side make us skip a beat. Sufficiently removed from site of the accident, the damage analysis kicks in. "it could have been worse!","who pays for the glass ?","poor goat", "we should have been slower","what if we didnt run ?","what do we tell the cops ?","what if it was a kid ?","what if they had a vehicle","get over it now!"

Fierce discussion, bit low in volume, ensue, with occassionally heads turning, superstitiously, eyes looking in distance for potential chasers on cycles, ricksahws, bykes ... foot!

As some observe, driving in night with such glass is risky. Mysore is the place where we decide to get the glass changed, and here comes the difficult part of money. Maran, the driver, is ready to pay for the damages but doesnt want this to be known to his boss. Unfortunately, he doesnt have money, or so he claims. The optimists, fools, believers, non-sceptics are ready to pay on condition that it is returned ... the more sceptical ones, not ready to give in an inch , insist on intimation to boss, looking beyond the money and at loss of a life. Maran wins, and we are one our way to bangalore, silent, sleepy, tired and feeling like victims of fate.

After dropping the last passenger home Maran promises to return the money next morning. Ready to give his license,sumos key and cell phone as security. Insensitivity to the drivers fate is not at its peak and these things are not taken in custody. Maran doesnt turn up and breaks his promise of meeting thrice. The sceptic inside smiles at you. After a tough talk with Maran you get the money back. The anguished look at his face, doesnt help the mental situation either.

At the end of the whole turn of events, senitivity inside cries at the fate of goat, the driver. Something make me feel that we have infected the world a bit more with distrust. Could we have helped it ? probably not ..

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Looking at it now, saner me would call it an over reaction. Captive of conditioned response a person is, if something like this were to happen again, I somehow doubt if I'll use my learnings a lot.

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grr .. its the 7-8th time m republishing it ..