If Only Was It That Easy

A day off work, to get the twitching in my eye checked,
as a nerve on the lower eye lid of the left eye kept unnerving me for couple of weeks now.
Was it the the confidence incited by my eyes deciphering, and coping with the sophisticated zoom-ins and zoom-outs built into the machinery? Or the rather relaxed demeanor of the ophthalmologist in saying, “Well, twitching? That’s ‘nervous’. It happens to some people, and will go off!”, I do not know.
I don’t experience the twitching anymore. Nope. It indeed was temporary. My eyes are just fine. No spectacles required!

On the way back, I yanked a nasty, fugitive plan I’d out of my head, dumped it into the garbage bin, spat on it, and climbed The Tallest Ulm Munster, all the ~160 meters instead. 768 Stufen that is!

A mere 160 meters height had all the mesmerizing view,
eliciting an entirely different point of view.
IMG_20170921_125046IMG_20170921_123619
The flawless row houses, glass windows at the top for sun to stream in.
Hotels with roof top restaurant to indulge, and dine in.
The untiring Donau,
and the tiring déjà vu of “Am I here now?”

I stood there at the top, perhaps testing my eyes yet again, to see how far could they see, this time, I’d no clue what I was looking at. Or is that the whole point of standing at high point? For the dumb, and dumber in me to try and feel like he’s trying to spot the mark he made, or aiming to make on this eternal universe?
Well, if only was it that easy.

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Conundrum

I look around, and there is love everywhere:

In the glittering eyes of the teen pair, her head resting on his shoulder, and I wonder is it the song on their phone they are lost in, or in the intimate touch.

In the lightest of the moment the Turkish girl threw herself into the arms of that funky dude, who held her like he would never let her down, ever.

In the kiss the tattooed lovers greeted each other with, after hell knows how long, burning the worldly necessity that kept them away right between their lips.

In the luckiest of the rings decorating the pair about to wed.

And in the moments when I’m lost,
staring at these sights like an absolute jerk,
baffled by the conundrum: “Oh dear, Will you ever find true love?

Friendship Day!

ಹೋಗೋ ಗುಳ್ದು; ಯಾಕೋ loaper!; ಮುಚ್ಚಪ್ಪ ಸಾಕು;
ಸರಿ, ನಿಮ್ಮ ಹಸುನೆ ಮುಂದೆ;
ಇಲ್ಲ ಮಗ;  ಹೂ ಮಚ್ಚ;  ಹೌದು ಗುರುವೇ;
ಏನ್ರೀ ಹೇಗಿದ್ದೀರ?
– ಸಲಿಗೆ ಎಳ್ಳಷ್ಟಇರಲಿ, ಓರೋಷ್ಟು ಇರಲಿ .

ಚಡ್ಡಿ, ಚಿಕೆನ್,
ಕಾರು, ಬೀರು,
ಚಪ್ಪಲಿ,ಸಾಕ್ಸು,
ಪ್ಯಾಂಟು, ಶರ್ಟು

ಎಲ್ಲಾ ಶೇರ್ ಮಾಡ್ಲಿ,

ರೋಟಿ, ದಾಲ್,
ಆಂಧ್ರ ಪಪ್ಪು,
ಕಡಕ್, ಹಲಸಂದೆ,

ಏನೇ ತಿನ್ನಲಿ,

ಬೆಂಗಳೂರು, ಬಿಹಾರ್,
ಪಾವಗಡ, ಶಿಮೊಗ್ಗ,
ರತ್ನಗಿರಿ, ಕೆಂಗೇರಿ,
ರೈಚೂರ್, ಸಿರಾ, ಮುತ್ಕುರ್,
ಬೇವಿನಹಳ್ಳಿ, ಬೊಮ್ಮಸಂದ್ರ,
ನೀ ಎಲ್ಲಿನವರಾದ್ರೂ ಆಗ್ಲಿ,

ನನ್ನ ಗೋಳು ಕೇಳೋ,
ಮಾತು ಕೇಳೋ,
ಅಳಿಸೊ, ನಗಿಸೋ,
ತಿದ್ದೋ, ತಿದ್ದೋ ಅವಕಾಶ ಕೊಟ್ಟೋ,

“ಕುಯ್ದಿದ್ದು ಸಾಕು, ನಿಲ್ಸೋ!”

ಅನ್ನೋ, ಎಲ್ಲ ಗೆಳೆಯ, ಗೆಳತಿಯರಿಗೂ:

“ನೀವಿಲ್ಲದ ಜೀವನ ಚೂರು, ಬೋರು,
ಬೇಜಾರು.
ನಿಮಗಿದೊ ಒಂದು ಪುಟ್ಟ ನಮಸ್ಕಾರ!”

Happy first Sunday of August!

ಲೇಟ್ ಆಗಿದೆ.
Adjust ಮಾಡ್ಕೊಳಿ!

Hailstones

It started raining heavily, with fierce winds on the way back home. Hailstones as big as pebbles, all over the footpath. The umbrella couldn’t take the force and I’d to take shelter under a tree.

It was petrifying and in all honesty, I was really scared by the loudness of the thunders and the brightness of the lightening, and I’d to close the umbrella and drop it aside to prevent it from turning into a lightening arrestor! The streetlight meters away was hazily visible and it was turned off by the lightening.

There I was shaking, shivering, and waiting. Moments later, I was joined by this little adorable girl. She stood beside me, and after a while said she was too afraid to walk the rest of her way back home and started crying. I tried consoling, and asked if I could call her home. Sadly we couldn’t reach her home. In an effort to console her further, I picked up a few lines from a movie and said the lightening was just God taking pictures of us with his million megapixel camera, and the thunder was His drumbeat and she could pose for pictures and dance to the beats.

That seemed to have relaxed her and she stopped crying, while the rain continued.

Moments later, she started acting weird by picking up the hailstones and said she missed the last bus just so she could collect the hailstones from where we were waiting.

“These are special!”, she continued in a rather peculiar, and over excited tone, which to me was louder, and scarier than the downpour. “Special in the sense, they slipped off God’s refrigerator, just for me.”, with the thunder in chorus, frightening me even more. At this stage, although she seemed like an 8 year old kid, I’d all sorts of paranoid thoughts running through my mind vigorously. Could that be a ghost, or an alien, or even worse God’s messenger that was to punish my atheist soul?

I looked at her foot, and they were alright and confirmed she wasn’t a ghost. No, I’m not friends with ghosts, but that’s the one trait that sets ghosts apart I heard.

She’d a backpack full of books and a lunch box, and looked all cute. And given the fact that even the US president hasn’t made contact with Aliens yet,  it is a mistake on alien’s side to even think of considering me as the human to reach out to. Ruled out, in disappointment.(Or maybe, I stand chance!? Who’s the president now?)

God’s messenger? Nah, that contradicts my atheist belief to begin with.

As I kept pondering in paranoia as to who she was, ” and, you know”, she continued, “there has been study in my Chemistry lab, and our teacher said that we collect the hailstones and bring them to the lab to examine the effect of global warming.  I’ve not been able to collect any since weeks now because of unsupported circumstances, and the deadline for report submission is just days away.”

It was time for me to relax as it was just a kid that I was talking to, and I had nothing to be scared of.

“And you know”, she continued, “I’m passionate. And I will do everything I can to reduce the impact the human species is about to face because of global warming. And as I’ve to live on this planet for the years to come, I’ve taken it on me, sir, to study everything I could, and do anything I can.”, and continued collecting the hailstones into the little freezer-thing she’d, that I’d mistaken for lunchbox.

“Oh, I meant that these hailstones have fallen off God’s refrigerator metaphorically, to both complement your imagination about the thunder, and lightening, and to thank God for today. I’m glad that finally I’m able to collect some so that I can prepare for my thesis submission.”

I was flattered. At 8, not only was she funny, but extremely sensible, and considerate AND to top it all, preparing a thesis! How lucky her father must be, I thought. Father is more dearer to a daughter than mother. Hence the reason. And I would want a daughter. Sons are stupid.

She got enough of the supply for her research by then, and I was glad as much as she was that she missing the last bus didn’t go wasted.

It stopped raining, and I walked her to her home which was in the other direction to where I lived.  As she rang the doorbell on her home, I started walking back to my home. She didn’t thank me. I guess the excitement of hoping to fulfill the project made her forget formalities and hey, I’d just learnt to be sensible from her moments ago!

The next day at about 11 in the morning the phone rang. Some unknown number, and because my mobile subscription is under roaming at the moment, and it’s a bloody expensive one, I have my number shared only with my family, and I pick calls, and don’t care for roaming charges. I received the call, and it wasn’t anyone from my family. The person at the other end said “Thanks for caring for the little kid from yesterday.”

I was guessing this must be her father.

I went “Oh, yes. She was a wonderful kid. The best I’ve ever come across. I’m guessing that she’s your daughter?”

And the response was “No, but I understood how sensible, smart and responsible you hope your daughter should be.  And I promise you, not only do we care and understand your expectations with your ideal soulmate, the life partner, but also understand the qualities you hope your kid will have!”

I went “Who are you!?”

The response, “I’m calling from Matrimony service. Please use coupon code ‘WEDDiscount20’, with ‘WEDD’, both the ‘d’s in upper case, sir, and ‘twenty’ is numeric 20. This is for Wednesday’ discounts on the paid subscription using which you can view the complete details of the potential matches. And sir, we can help you get timely response from your potential matches! And, sir, ..”

I had to hang up on him before he completed the sentence, wondering how on earth did he come to know about that previous day.

Wooden Planks, Banana Peel

I came to realize that the wooden planks and banana peel have something in common.

Some punk had littered the tidiest of the street with banana peel. Stepping on it, I lost control. To add to the misery there was a little stone on the floor that my my buttocks fell onto.

Oh Lord, it was 52kilograms of pain condensed to 1 square inch initially, and it gradually expanded to about 1 square-palm.
For the first time in my life I realized my lungs can easily reach the
vocal range of an opera singer, and my hands have the reflexes of a mongoose. I appreciate your imagination.

Pain in the ass is really a thoughtful idiom.
Before I get distracted, here is how this incident relates to my realization mentioned early on.

It was from the 8th grade that we sat on wooden planks. Until then, not even them but floor. 8th grade was when the school recognized the beginning of development in us.
I mean, academically!

Two wooden planks were joined for 5 of us to sit in each row. It was quite comfortable most of the time, and we took pride in sitting on them.
But occasionally, when the stars would align, well, we couldn’t see stars in the morning though, the two who sat at either side of the row did something and the 3rd in the row would have his butt squeeze between the wooden planks.
His hands knew exactly where he was hurt, and we could see his pain as his face turned pale.
Knowing that this happened often, the rest of us refused to swap our places with his, in spite of his offer to buy us ice-candy in return, the popular 50 paisa delicacy we couldn’t resist that time.

Although this happened often, I presume it wasn’t as painful as that of my experience today. I say that because my friend from the school could never be heard.
I mean he would never scream his pain out. But we knew when it happened as his hand moved at a pace that violated the laws of motion.

Anyways, doesn’t that prove my argument about the similarly between wooden plank and banana peel?
You may disagree today. But one day, when _you_ step on banana peel and fall onto your buttocks that you will come back and agree with me in regret.
You can’t have the wooden plank experience though, to compare which one stands out.
Not because it is from my childhood and I envy anyone else experiencing it,
but because the school’s furniture has gotten a makeover these day.

No, wait.. They are wooden desks now! So, should you want the slightly similar, but the other experience too, before you agree with my observation, let me know. I will drive you to my home town next time.

I don’t curse the punk that littered the street. No. Not at all. He did a favor. Rather significant one.  After all, it is because of him that I know couple of things I didn’t earlier: My vocal range could match that of an opera singer. I’ve the reflexes of a mongoose!