Chaotic times

It is really like life in a Robin Cook story, a sleazy production of one, at least. Everywhere I turn, masks assault the eyes, in various sizes, transparencies and colours.
People rushing about their jobs, or loitering around, all with this new accessory on their faces. Pretty soon I am expecting someone to launch couture versions of these infernal eye-sores. Hyderabadis being the Bling-loving, ostentatious, fun-loving people that they are, this isn't going to be a deterrent to their lives, for very long. There is talk of shutting down the Malls, I shudder to even think of such an eventuality. Kameeney's coming out this Friday, for crying out loud.
Jokes apart, the numbers are rising, people are dropping like flies, it's almost as if the Virus is carrying out a personal vendetta. Containing the virus in a country like ours is going to be an impossible task, the people are largely illiterate, likely to panic at the first given opportunity, then there is that small group of people, (let us call them entrepreneurs, for want of a better word) that will hoard up on medications, make a killing (sic!) on the black-grey market, a few doctors are going to get beaten up, a few ministers will be given the ever-novel opportunity of airing their empty brains on a global stage, the teeming masses, everyday on the increase, the up-coming festive season, the insurmountable difficulties in implementing any public welfare programme of any kind, throw in a few communal clashes in between, (Why? when did we ever need a reason to behave like animals?), and you have it,,,,,The Swine Flu Effect in India...Trust me, there will never be a grander show for many years to come!
On top of all this chaos, when people are looking for any excuse to be happy, there are even a few like me, who try and find solace between the pages of a book, but thanks to people like Meenakshi Reddy Madhavan, even that seems like a distant dream.
I was re-reading one of my childhood favourites, "Pollyanna", a book I like, for the optimism and the simple, almost magical solutions it offers, to some of life's problems, when I came across one of the lady's articles in a leading daily, where she tore into this book and several other favorites as well, making them sound like books designed with the single purpose of enslaving women all over the world, managing to find so-called "loop holes" in their plots, not even sparing authors like Susan M Coolidge and L Alcott,,,,.
I am amazed how a few lewd lines about an imaginary lifestyle gives someone the literary acumen to critique these great books.
For those who have read books like "Little Women", "What Katy did", and the "Anne" series, you will know why I am enraged. These books gave me countless hours of innocent pleasure when I was younger, and I still go back to them from time-to-time,, reading that stupid article made me feel like someone just abused my childhood friends, and that is not a very pleasant sensation.

As crimes go,,

As my foul mood continues, and I cannot think of anything good right now, I am going to try and put down something I have been thinking of, for quite some time now.

RAPE,,,,,,, No, I am not about to go and commit what all of us know is a heinous crime, I just have been thinking that the laws in our country, or for that matter, anywhere in the world is clear pertaining to this barbaric act, the woman just has to holler "Rape!!" and the person on whom the finger gets pointed, gets thrown into a mire, out of which he is able to climb out, only when he manages to prove, beyond the least bit of doubt, what-so-ever, that he has not committed the said crime.
Isn't it just a little too much power in any one's hands?

Some woman who has it in for a man, just has to cook up a story, sufficiently plausible, and accuse the person of having raped her, no proof needed, no justification sought. The man sees his worst nightmares come to life.
It has happened too, a few weeks back, the dutiful wife of a petty Mumbai hustler, accused the local police chief of having picked her up, ostensibly to question her about her crook of a husband, and along with his fellow-policemen, brutally raped her.
Result- The senior officer gets transferred, suspended, his name gets sullied and the entire onus of proving his innocence falls on his shoulders.
The ever ravenous media smell fresh blood, fall on the story with all the zeal and fervour accorded to all sleazy stories. after a lot of due and undue coverage, the "lady"finally confessed to having concocted the whole thing up, why? To prevent the said officer from getting his hands on her guilty husband.
Now, don't get me wrong, I am not saying that rapes do not happen, they take place much too frequently, much to my utter disgust, but my question is, in the midst of the 99 guilty men, appropriately accused and duly punished, what of that 1 man who is wrongly framed, and that too by someone who knows the power she enjoys,,What then?
The law always maintains that a 100 guilty men may walk off free but no innocent should ever made to face persecution.
How does one make sure that the Anti-Rape laws, which are meant to protect as many as possible, do not become tools in the hands of a manipulative few?
How does one do that?

Sanity- What is that?

Its been a long time.
When you get to my age, time becomes relative,, (No, I didn't say RELATED, I said relative).
Age does seem to be catching up with me, I have started getting irritated by other people talking too loud, or calling out to each other in loud voices,,,while it seems all right if I do the screaming.
Strange? Not at all, I don't scream, just speak emphatically as and when required. So there!!
Anyway, it has been a long time since I felt the inclination to sit in front of an unfriendly, blinking, blue screen, pouring my heart out to it,,,unless,,
Unless I can make a horcrux or two out of them.
I really can't imagine what on earth gave me the idea that I could do this day in day out, being a doctor I mean.
I cannot really remember how my last four months have just swished by, in a blur. If you ask me to recollect anything important during that time, I'd be really straining my grey cells, (if I have any left, that is). Life's a mess and I can hardly hold one single thought in my head for more than a minute,,Age?
Someone who is very dear to me called me up, as he usually does, I was eye-deep in stress, said I would call him up,, and am still trying to gather enough thoughts together in my head, to make a conversation out of it. Sorry "V".
It's not that I don't want to.
The only saving grace in all this while has been the promise of rains. Each day I wake up to gloomy, cloud-swept skies. Yummy.
Anyone going through this is welcome to point out even a single line that made sense to them.
PS. Landmark has opened up here. I am yet to go there!
PS. SIGH

NEWS

"World music day",,,,yet music is one of the farthest things on my mind as I hear my mum, on the phone, describe a town burning.. Yes, my sleepy little home-town has managed to grab a 1 minute slot on National Television this Sunday morning, wedged between more important stories like the BJP leaders mudslinging, an HIV+ve woman being actually "labelled" as such, the Titans facing off in the oh so important T2o Finals,,,and so on........

I struggle hard to try and remember Haflong as I once saw it, quiet, serene and idyllic, during our so called rebellious college years we would crib of how things never seemed to happen where we lived, real life just seemed to give us a wide berth, little did we know then of what was to come. On the news spot, I saw the intrepid journalist who had the sense to travel to a refugee camp in my town where he was shown with children on his lap, around him, wide-eyed, staring at the TV crew, unaware of what was going on, just knowing that they had left behind all things familiar, and were forced to walk for miles with cloth bundles on their heads, to come to a place crowded with similarly scared, bemused children. Thus is the state of my land. The newly formed NIA has its first assignment in trying to solve the intricate weave of terrorism, self-rule and corruption that has found a safe haven in this woody paradise, for the past decade. The local Governing body has been dissolved, yet again, the power to run it given to an 89 year old man, who was hospitalised the very next day that he took over,,,we cringe at the memory of something similar in the not-so-distant past, when another old man had opened his greedy mouth wide and it had to be stuffed with crores of the towns-peoples' money before things went back to their original bad state. There is a curfew that has been imposed, which takes effect from 8pm every single night for the past few months, my parents and countless others like them have moulded their lives, both social and essential, around it. The state Government and the Central machinery seem like stuff out of fairy tales, what is justice and law for the rest of the country does not seem to percolate down to our level. Houses burn, people are ruthlessly massacred, children too, scores of people are displaced from the lives and homes they knew, thrust into a future rife with uncertainties, but how many people know what is going on there ?, under the leafy forest cover, that was once our pride and now seems so sinister.....when will the media, so engrossed in more "news-worthy" bytes realise that while they run after elevated TRPs, a small world burns, and if something is not done soon, if someone does not see it fit to remove the layer of apathy from the eyes of the rest of my countrymen and my leaders,,,I shall lose my world, my small little hill-town, a place I grew up in, a place where people still walk for miles to catch an overfilled bus, once a week, to come to a town, far away, buy an entire weeks commodities, and go back home, tired, an entire day behind them, only to repeat the whole process in another 7 days, a place where there is so much money and so much lucre, that there are guns all around, grabbing hands, killing hands and all hidden from the rest of the country, partly due to apathy, and partly due to ignorance.

Travails unlimited

Maudlin melodies on the net, thanks to Internet Radio, and a lovely sunny,wind-blown day,,,an impending nighter after two days of well-earned rest,,life is good. Add to it the fact that I was out on my favourite activity yesterday,,shopping. So what if it was for mundane and utterly prosaic stuff (read Undies, bed-linen, flip-flops, a wallet,,), retail therapy works, every time!

On my way back I discovered the joys of weightlessness, once again,,,as one of my ex-friends (notice the sudden icy chill?) used to say, being a "feather-weight" has its own advantages, your self esteem is much better than when you were a hippo in man-skin, plus it makes you ready for any upcoming NASA auditions for their future space programs,,they do need fussy, cleanliness freaks out there, trust me! Back to the auditions,,, every time I am out, availing of the public transportation, be it bus, cab or the three wheeled demon-vehicle called an (?) Auto I am at the mercy of the laws of physics, the wind condition of the day and all other elements that are in my immediate vicinity. I happened to be in an (shudder!!) Auto, while returning from my little trip yesterday,,and I found myself tossed around in its confines, thanks to the drivers love of cross-country rallies, I pretty soon was sitting on an unknown lap,( the sheer embarrassment of it),,snug as a bug in a rug on a rainy night, after one slightly more violent undulation of the vehicle,,.gives you a pretty good idea of what floating in space must entail,, after that I more or less hung on with all I had, read teeth, claws, legs,,,,till my destination was reached. Needing something strong to steady my jangling nerves, I headed for the small tea place near my hostel,,,,Yes! Tea! What do you take me for? It was just 5.30 in the evening?

Finally! I was in the safety of my room, I proceeded to put on a movie,,Eragon it was,, and relaxed.

PS.The Nano is out, right? Maybe,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Friggin' trying times

I saw my face in the mirror, just now,in passing, mind you (lest you credit me with some Narcissistic tendencies), and I could swear my face looked like Meena,,,,,,, the Kumari, I mean, and I surely do not have any leanings towards cross-dressing . My life is such a melodramatic, sad, tragic, sob-story right now, even Shakespeare would be proud of it,,let me enumerate how,,,I am on alternate nights, because of some impending International audit, that is the official version at least, my version of things are, I believe, more accurate, they just do not want my face hanging around to sour the milk, so to say, when the Phoren gents and Laydies come a-calling, anyways,, so I am on these nightmarish alternate nighters, hardly able to tell one day from the next, what with spending all my time, curled-up in bed, asleep, or guzzling coffee, by the gallon, trying to keep my peepers seperated while at work. To top it, and this really hurts, the Humongantic water-filter-cum-chiller-cum-dispenser in my hostel has picked the perfect time to call for an early, albeit well-deserved retirement. I am parched during all my waking hours, and am reduced to lugging huge bottles of chilled water from the Hospital at all odd hours. Maybe I just have not been noticing, but my hostel seems to be inhabited mostly by camels, I am the only guy seriously pissed enough to be on the phone, a dozen times a day, trying to get the blessed thing resurrected,, but with all the,"Daagtarr, ho jayega Daaagtaaar-ing", I have had it upto HERE with it all. The sweet Amma who was cleaning lady-cum-breakfast-fetcher,for the entire hostel, had a nasty fall a couple of days back, and is laid up in bed, with half-a-dozen stitches on her fore-head, (God bless her),thus,,,the Hostel is literally swathed in dog-poo, all the boarders have rave parties all night, food is literally flung around, and all the dogs in the Tri-state area seem to congregate here at night, gate crashing, and all this junk-food is sure upsetting quite a few canine tummies,,,,my OCD is in its death-throes. it has been six days of living in a smelly hell, oh, I am cleaning my room all right, rest assured on that particular count, but I have to crawl through two friggin' floors of stench, and coated, smeared floors, every time I go out of or come back to my room.

If you read an Obituary bemoaning yours' truly, in the next few days, please do remember that I was made a martyr to filth and tap water.

It is time to go back for some water, let me go put on my Scuba gear, bye folks,,wish me luck, or simply a speedy end.

PS, Forgive the typos, am too upset!!

COLOURS

Holi came and went, leaving me with its colours,
Blood and gore, the irremovable stains of parents' tears, the black stain of drunken driving, the unwashable hues of peoples' misery, left all alone to suffer.
The stain of sweat on my brow and the imprint of guilt on my soul, as I spent an entire night, filled with futile attempts to stop 2 lives from slipping away, these were the colours of Holi for me. How do you tell the 70 year old parents of a student, when they call you, long-distance, that their son is hanging-on, by his teeth,?
The colours were so different, I was so different, the stained faces and hands meant happier things once, I long for 'that-boy' to come back into my life.
It is a 24 hour joy-ride for me, guess I better go back in, the families need 'counselling' and 'consoling', and I need my high.

To a boy I once knew.

There once was a small boy, the only child of his parents, fat and ugly, his head immersed in a book at most times, he was seldom seen without one, books and scraps of paper, with words on them accompanied him everywhere he went, saw each morsel of food enter his mouth and possibly the culmination of that particular process the next morning. School ended never too soon for him, the window seat in the small library of his tiny hill-town beckoned, where he would be found, curtains drawn around him, engrossed in the adventures of the people from the pages of the book he was reading at the moment, their lives were so much more interesting than his own. The characters he loved were endless, each dear to him, be it the lying Pinocchio, the sisters Meg, Jo, Amy and Beth, Black-beauty, Lorna Doone, Huck-Finn and his friends or Oliver terrorised by Fagin. He followed the Famous five on all their adventures, pointed out clues to the Hardy brothers, all the while wishing that they would join forces with Nancy and her pals.

The lone book shop in his town was another haunt, the comic book heroes as much a part of his life as real-life people. Tintin and Snowy made him long for a dog of his own. Birthdays came and went, bringing more books with them, he still had the copy of 'What Katy did' that his father gave him on one such Birthday. He went on to Pygmalion and heavier tomes, the hunger driving him to learn Bengali, so that he could be a part of the world his mum spoke of, she too read, period.

His best memories were of those early childhood days, curled up in the Library window, he spent whole evenings there, reading until darkness made the words on the page blur or until his mum came looking for him, light in hand. Study hours were quickly dealt with, the unfinished stories beckoned. Happiness was always just the turn of a page away, demands were few and desires were limited to the contents of a 'to read' list.

I search for the boy still, at times, and wish he was here. I wish he was still here.

Sanctuary

There is this particular tree (no I am not going fashionably green), the lush, laden boughs of which shelter my peaches and cream skin from the ever envious sun. I am accustomed to standing beneath it several times each day, enjoying my only vice,,,Tea!! This place is a vantage point (saw the movie?), it gives me a view of my work-place and its approach. Every time I stand there, sipping my brew, reiterating my Assamese-ness (?), I stare at the stream of swanky rides that pull up into the drive. Mercs, Beemers, Jags, Audis, Volvos, Hondas,,,,the list is never ending, much like the money these guys seem to have,,Sigh!!!!

Standing here I can also bitch to myself, to my hearts content, how people can so blatantly disregard other peoples health and manage to blow noxious cigarette smoke into my nose and mouth,,,,,,

Standing here, I invariably get the chance to honour my commitment to SLM, I did promise never to let any child begging on the streets return empty handed, and I religiously see that I keep that deal.

This is one of the only parts of the day, I am with things I love, my cup of Tea, the way the tree sheds its tiny leaves, sometimes into my cuppa, this 'Gulmohur' taking me back to my College and its red and yellow-strewn lawns and roads, rain-soaked, verdant, vibrant ,,,it takes me even further back into the recesses of my memories, to long walks back from school, along roads, carpeted with fallen blossoms, sharing laughter and yarns with friends most of whom are lost, no-longer in touch.

This is a time I keep for myself, when I shrug off a bad night, brace myself for a gruelling day, always knowing that I can return to this spot for a touch of reassurance, for a whiff of familiarity, of Home.

Of dreams and Nightmares

Most of the my days recently, have had a strange dream-like quality to them, and I say dream-like because I have aways felt that the border between a dream and a night-mare is an often blurry, thin line, hard to make out at the best of times, much like sanity and insanity.
Dream like,,,,I never seem to be in control of what is going on around me, what is so new in that piece of news, you might ask, nothing,,,except for the fact that now a days, I seem to be more lost than I usually am, and that is quite an achievement I can tell you. When ever I manage to get some time off from my work (?), and pause to draw breath, I feel myself slip into a sepia-tinted dream, where the same evil, uncontrollable things keep happening, again and again. I am like a mute spectator, hands tied behind my back, for good measure, and I cannot intervene, cannot do anything to repair the rents that start appearing.
All the events that have transpired in the past few months of my glorious life, come back to haunt me, every vivid, stark detail,,,,, the pleasant times too, but with evil twists in the end, of the kind that J A would be proud of.
No, I have not taken up smoking pot, with the salary I draw (hint, hint!!), I am lucky if I can smoke left-over stumps and the fag-end of fags, not the human variety.
Now, I have gone and said something politically incorrect. Shit!
Back to dreaming for me.

Another attempt at life.

I have never been a great believer of resurrections, (forgive me oh Lord!) I never had the strength of character to visualise someone going through one, let alone experience one for myself. But things change.

For a change I woke up bright and early today, wanting to be a part of the "Slumdog hysteria" that has gripped all and sundry around me. I was dragged out of a stupor last night and made to sit through, what I thought would be the sheer torture of 3 hours of Abhishek Baba, or in less confusing terminology, I was dragged to a late night showing of "Delhi 6", and apart from the fact that I surprisingly enjoyed the experience, I was awed to notice that many had come there to show their solidarity to the great genius of a man called "Rahman", since he scored the absolutely magnificent music for this movie too. The topic of choice at the Pop-corn stand and the loo was whether Rahman would really complete this dream run with the icing on his cake of success,,

Come 9.30 am today,,he did!

Mumbai stands vindicated, we stand vindicated, and contrary to what many are saying, this film does not expose anything that isn't already there, it shows that we have a never-say-die spirit, which is our main survival tool. It is not about cinematic genius alone, it is also for timing and destiny. There in the audience was Mickey Rourke too, who has made a brilliant comeback from near-ignonimity with his film this year, then there were the children, sorry,, the"slum-dogs" from our streets, rubbing shoulders with Legends of the Screen, there was Rahman drowning every voice of criticism with his virtuoso-like performance,,What is this, if not a dream come true?

This was a dream, and a great one at that, the one thing that I carried home with me after watching "Slumdog Millionaire" was the spirit of a city, a nation of people who truly, deep somewhere in their hearts, do believe that things, ultimately, finally, will go right, that we will come up Aces, we are like an entire country of the proverbial tortoises, pipping many a Hare to the finishing-line.

I have been away from this for almost 50 days,,I have been going through some tough times, health-wise (thanks Lambu-ji, for calling up, and sorry I wasn't able to talk much that day, there were reasons), and today's events made me decide to give things one more shot, one more try. I am going to see if things can be sorted out

"Jai-Ho",,,,,,, the lines in the song really are good. They make you want to believe, "Slumdog" wants you to believe.

Gay Sunday..

Just got over two very days of torture,, what else would anyone call 10 hellish hours, a day, spent cooped up in an air-conditioned (read stale air, re-re-re-cycled) space, listening to a bunch of people air their knowledge, a great chunk of whom just do not know that they have got to relearn entire books on phonetics, and peruse a few good joke books while they are at it.

See what I go through for the sake of self-betterment?

Anyways, after the end-credits rolled , I rushed out of there and decided to walk a part of the way, back to my match-box. I wasn't disappointed, Sunday in Hyderabad and you are treated to a feast for your eyes, there is something to suit every one's tastes, people are out in full plumage.

So, here I was, walking along, alone, my Giordano backpack on one shoulder (have to name drop for the sake of revenue), minding my own business, lost in thoughts, too quick silvery, too varied to put down here, and I saw this simply gorgeous, drool-worthy Rolls-Royce sedan, I tell you, I still have goose-bumps from the sight. I stood and stared, unashamed, unabashed. The car was at a red-light, and that gave me my chance, while I was gaping like an idiot, the window swooshed down, rolled down does not do justice, and a young, hep-looking male popped out his face and asked me if I wanted to be dropped off anywhere,,,now get this, I am not someone who ordinarily hitches rides, nor am I usually that approachable, but please try and understand,,,this was a Rolls for crying out loud.

So, with a sweeter than usual smile on my face, in I hopped in, into HEAVEN. The window slid up, the music was on, Delhi 6 (by the way get the soundtrack, its lovely), and we get to talking, as in, I sit and nod or shake my head, in between ogling the glorious insides of this dream machine. The light changes and he asks where I wanted to be dropped off, when I think of it later, I think that was when I should have had alarms go off, he wasn't going my way, at all. But I was busy you see, busy being an idiot. So we are on our way, when I notice a lul in the conversation, he had asked me a question, flummoxed, I asked him to repeat what his question was, and he said,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,," What are your rates?" I am world-wise, but it took me 10 seconds to get it, he thought I was a what???????????? I did not know whether to laugh, cry or kick,,I was that taken aback, and anyone who knows me will vouch that I am never lost for a retort. I sat there catching flies, when he repeated his question, and said that he was looking for company to while a Sunday evening away and that I was the best he had seen in Hyderabad so far.

I murmured something, I do not remember what, but whatever it was, it made him pull over, stop and unlock the door, out I jumped, walked away, without breathing, and did not stop till I was back in my room.

I am still trying to recall my answer.

Moon-lighting?

A kite, freed..

It is that time of the year again, stiff breezes blow me off my path whenever I come out of doors, kites dot the horizon and since early morning today, prayers waft to my ears from the nearby temple. People are busy celebrating a new life with the new harvest season, and in the midst of all this the Goddess of wealth, good fortune and happiness lies in the ICU, her skeletal remains awaiting the final moments, her body, battered and bruised, by neglect and old-age, her soul, along with the rest of her, pock-marked with bed-sores. A few years back she was someone to reckon with, diamonds in her nose and ears, a number of children, all self-sufficient and earning well and a loving husband, where did everything go wrong? When was she picked out of the home she had known forever and deposited into the money-hungry hands of an Old-age home? When did life pass her by and become a living hell for her? When did she have the first of several falls that left her crippled and decrepit? When did she start silently bearing the humiliation of soiling her bed and having to lie there, till someone found the time or the goodness of heart to clean her up? When did the bed sores that cover her now, making anyone who goes near her wrinkle their nose, start to appear? Whydid the children never see any of this, and why did they have to wait till she was on the brink of death to come and deposit her in a hospital ICU bed? Why are they awaiting an end to the auspicious celebrations before they finally take her home, one last time, so that they can give her a formal burial? For all intents and purposes she has been dead and buried a long time ago.

I cannot make any judgements, but do tell me how to keep a straight face and a civil tongue while dealing with these people who, so willingly condemn the very person that sustained them with her flesh, blood and bones, to a life like this and a death that perhaps is better in many ways than the last few years of her life?

The world celebrates a new beginning, and a life quietly awaits an end to the ignominy it has suffered, the prayers drone out the hiss of the machines that pump breaths into her, keeping her alive till that hour comes. We have forgotten our human frailties and are trying to play God. He sees all.

Among all the kites straining their bonds is one which has managed to free itself, look how it flies free,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Being a Catty B****

I finally have a New Year resolution, have never been a great lover of such knowingly- temporary self-improvement techniques, but as they say, if you can't beat 'em,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

So, I finally have a New-Year resolution, (Deja-vu anyone?) I am going to be at my cattiest and bitchiest best all through this year.Now to qualify things, all references made to animal life and likening the female of the same to seemingly nasty characteristics are made intentionally, and are born out of utter respect for those traits, these are the very condiments of an otherwise very bland, Idli-Upma life for me here. I am gonna be catty, and this is something I actually am any good at, trust me! When I want to, I can beat the best of them at their own game, and we are talking all aces here. I do have further testimony to my above-mentioned skills,(refer to erstwhile Eureka's coments on Moi' in his fab blog), and am further inspired in this by another blogger I love visiting, "P", who said that 'ghar ka khana' has kept my way with words at the same nonsensical level (Phew!).

This is the only, one and only resolution I am making, because believe it or not, being a B**** is a full time and exhausting job, and there are standards to be met and competition to be kept at bay, so here is to an extremely entertaining (for me) and inviting New Year, if it were not for this great resolution that I took, I would have simply hated this year, in fact, come to think of it, I somewhat, already do.!

PS. It was 'celeBrations' and not what did actually come out of typo-land.

PPS. Thanks P

My own special celerations

Hi, I am back, will take me quite some time to gather myself together, and to top it all, I did not usher in my New Year in a very good way, but then when you are dealing with me, isn't that what we all expect? After spending a 'not more than usually shitty' day in the ICU, I run out, buy provisions and rush to my friend's place, to cook dinner for three people, we two and his brother, rather pleased at the quiet plans, only to reach there to find that there has been a change in plans and it seems we are all going out to dine, it was not for fear of being subjected to my cooking, let me assure you, for I have been told by quite a few guys, and gals that I am a decent cook, some of them out in blogger-world would be able to vouch for me, anyways, we do manage to go out, and also to find a table for 4 at one of the better dine-houses in Hyderabad, and THAT was a miracle in itself, let me tell you, for it seems that the whole of Hyderabad had the same venue in mind for their revelries. While waiting for our table to dislodge its previous diners, I got a message from my bank telling me that my salary has been deposited, only to discover that I had been subjected to a pay-cut, just because I decided to pay my parents a visit, well!!!!!!!!! Lucky me.

We finally finish dinner, catch hold of an auto, and let me tell you guys, these guys were on top-form, demanding cut-throat prices and getting them too, when on the way back, a team of police-men decide to stop us, subject the driver AND us to breathalyser tests, can you beat that? Pretty soon it will be illegal if you are dastardly enough to hail yourself an auto or a taxi, after a few drinks, rather than indulge in recklessly dangerous drunk-driving, and think you can pull a fast stunt, Huh!! our police force are up to all our evil plans, they will be lying in wait, don't say I didn't warn you. Well, so you see, I rang in my New Year in a grand way, hope you all fared better.

Here's wishing all of you a Very Happy ans Safe New Year!!