Akka, Bava n the trip

It has been more than two weeks since I am in B’lore and I have not reached the expected level of enthusiasm about the planned summer activities. Akka decided to come over for the weekend and I wanted to make the best of the plans. Bava promised to take us to Mysore on Akka’s perennial plea. The morning we were to leave, I woke up at 6:30 A.M in my own bed with Akka sleeping soundly beside me. I tried to wake her up but she continued to snooze.My right foot was stuck to the sheet, and there was a pillow under my left foot. I yanked my foot loose from the sheet, and sat up on the side of the bed while being careful not to drag. Then I tossed the sheet back over her and fell asleep again. There was someone at the door and only then did I realize that it was 8 A.M and Bava was all geared up for the trip. In no time we got ready, stuffing bava’s backpack with Chocolates, Camera, hair brush (I wish there was Gatorade and granola bars).

Here we are fashionably dressed for the trip. But the white Capri accentuated my burnt leg.
We are seated in the car and waiting for the chauffer to start. Excited talking about what lays ahead for us. We picked up Akbar on our way. Bava, sitting on the couch with tightly laced sneakers on his feet doesn’t seem to be as excited as we were. It was 10:30 in the morning when my stomach began to growl and complains of emptiness. There’s a MTR hotel on the corner of the street. I thought I would break into the hotel, but my stride was smooth as yogurt without the fruit.

After a sumptuous B’fast, we set off to Tippu’s Tomb. When I stepped out of the car, the summer heat enveloped me in an inferno. They say it's a dry heat, but when it gets to 40 degrees it's just plain fucking hot. If you have never been to Mysore in the summer let me help you understand what it feels like. First preheat your oven to 450 degrees. Next open the door and place a small powerful fan directly in front of the oven blowing outward. Take off all your clothes while standing in front of the fan, and rub your exposed skin with sandpaper. (Atleast this is how I felt).Welcome to Mysore!!

Akka seemed to avert her downward gaze as she passed just as Bava tried to move his own eyes elsewhere, anywhere, back to the shimmering walls but the sun didn’t seem resting. A pure smile is what they exchanged. As it got hotter we have decided to get out of there.

As per our chauffer’s suggestion, we have been to the so called “The-Best” restaurant. A middle-aged, curly-haired steward slid open the door. "Can I help you?" he asked. He barely noticed the first few that passed him. An elegant middle aged woman with long brown hair appeared from the hallway, and glanced in my direction. I didn’t heed as the aromas of baked bread, fresh sliced meats, and bleach surround me. Akbar and Akka seemed to be busy with the pretty-yellow flowers on the table (oh eh they were playing the fool around). Bava wasn’t seen in the vicinity of our eye-sight. He just had a mouthful of the grilled fish and left to the waiting area.

Two black leather sofas were pressed against the wall of the tiny waiting area. The walls were a light shade of yellow, and the color scheme made bava feel nauseous. Psychotic patients must feel right at home. He started to sweat profusely, and he was. As perspiration trickles down the side of his face, he was fine after he has thrown up.

Shopping mode kicks in. Akbar and Akka have been to the local internet café to book air tickets. We are off to the local shops. Important need is a gift for Akka. Underlying need – there must be a sale that is pleading to us. “We have just what you need and at the perfect price.” said the shopkeeper of the handicrafts shop pointing towards a beautifully carved dining table. Bava was so carried away with the deal and the table that he was almost ready to shell out 50 grands and get the table. It took lot of effort to hold him back from doing so. After an hour’s search for the gift, we finally manage to get a sandal bookmark and an idol of Lord Ganapati for Akka, wrapped up in the finest of the wrappers available.

We then left to the palace. Huuuuugggeeeeee!!!! hottttttttttttt!!! Is all that could say about the palace and the climate respectively. There were many small local stores around the palace.

What happens when the need is a Gooseberry? You know the kind in those small bins. Bright neon yellows. The kind that taste sweetish-sour. Have the potential to damage on their own accord. Did need play a part in this purchase? Bava thought the smirk on my face made the purchase essential, but postponed.
A zillion thoughts crossed my mind; I’ve never been this way before. Don’t give me flak for them. Felt like a big truckload of shit. Bava could smell that things weren’t the same and kept asking me the reason.

“For your information I’ve been incredibly perfect…..”

“Screw you, I’m the normal one and you’re the freak.”

I could say the former to him but wished to say the latter. The waiting game begins. There is consistency with inconsistency. Bava began the mental exercise during the few blocks it took to walk to the car. The weary anticipation the same on this day as it was when we had a tiff. Akbar drew back, grinning and not in the least bothered. We rushed through Chamundi hills and Nandi hills as Akka had to board the flight @ 10 P.M.

On our way back, lowering sun, full and hot on Bava’s face working in perfect concert with the cool evening breeze crossing him from the side and he felt the warm surge of confidence men feel when they know their goal can be hard. He admired himself and the changes he had made these past few days.
Sitting in the car, I furiously picked up my phone and started calling my friends. He glanced up and seemed to be mildly annoyed by my long duration phone calls. I apologized for interrupting his busy evening.

The traffic on the highway was light at 6:30 in the evening which allowed the chauffer to put the pedal to the floor of the car. Upon reaching cruising speed of 100kmph the valves were making a clattering noise and in less than five minutes it started raining cats and dogs.
Owing to the traffic the chauffer drove very slowly, he kept getting phone calls or messages.

As it was getting late, Akka turned to Bava in complete panic. “Adaptability is crucial” said Bava holding Akka in his arms.
“Make the phone call to Customer care and talk about the ticket” said Bava. A couple of calls got disconnected and another pointlessly frustrating phone call with the customer care guy, pulling huge bills from his pocket with each minute….. "Poof". Akka has lived this rollercoaster on more than one occasion. Finally we could manage to defer the ticket. Thanks to Akbar’s charming smile and cool even in that state of panic which was a like an ice cream on a hot brownie
We have to make a stop at the pharmacy. Akbar and I were passengers on this trip. We needed nothing. This struggle elicits giggles. So now we had giggles, a cancelled flight ticket, a deferred flight ticket, two men and two females – neither more skilled than the other.

We are oblivious to any onlookers. The clumsiness we share has been established in other situations.
Best bet just join the giggling and become part of the rolling mess.
Akka and Bava are a combustible combination.
At last we settled into our seats. Perhaps embarrassment should have taken over. There is this common bond we have that says, "These kinds of things happen to me all the time". The shared knowledge dismisses any unpleasant thoughts and we focus on the delights of the trip.
The much-anticipated trip must come to an end. It is time for us to head to MarthaHalli, return to our respective homes and live life, as we know it. We promise this will be the first of many more to come. We are dropped off at the apartment.

Will YOU BE MINE?

It was a bright sunny day; I’ve gotten the first three quarters of the day relatively well. Late in the evening, I was sitting in a small café, with a batchie, who was also a very good friend. I was enjoying freshly brewed coffee, enjoying the crisp summer air. We were laughing at the usual predictable college gossip that is inevitably found in any college. My dear friend had recently left her abusive boy-friend and seemed quite satisfied with her painstaking decision.

Then an infectious smile attracted my attention. It was a laugh from a girl I had never laid my curious eyes on before, but she seemed so familiar to me. My intuition made me slowly look up to capture the being of this girl. She looked at me, wrinkled her nose and tightened her ponytail uncomfortably. I just smiled to myself and in no time I’ve seen her going out with a friend of mine. I pitied her as she deserved someone much better (atleast I thought so). Inspite of she being my friend’s girl, hardly did we talk except for exchange of smiles which didn’t last longer too. They were going steady and they didn't really care what the students thought of them.

*****

After a couple of years we happen to scrap each other on FB followed by exchange of phone numbers which was just for the sake of formality. It then came to my notice that she broke up with that friend of mine. I thought that she was far too sweet to be alone all the time. I tried to recall the last time she spoke to me, if ever she has. No memory. No flashbacks. No nothing. Where on Earth could I be?
After speaking a couple of times, she suddenly vanished and I didn’t bother much as I expected it to happen so, remembering the past where she seldom spoke to me for a longer time

*****

It was a Monday afternoon, we were breaking for lunch, and everyone was all but stampeding towards the cafeteria to get the warmest food. It was unbelievable how fast people could go when they were hungry. My phone rang, displayed an unknown number and I reluctantly picked up the call as I was exhausted with the typical Monday schedule. Yeah, it is her again! We hardly had anything to talk about and there was silence which didn't last long enough for us to completely wind down. We spent hours together on calls and could not do away without talking to her. Learning to enjoy the conversations and not want for more was incredibly hard for me. But I knew that was being greedy. We have finally decided to meet up and I’ve made the best plans ever, but was not lucky enough to make things happen. Was upset and pressed myself more under the thick blanket but could not help it. She promised to meet me after two months but I had my own apprehensions (which were quite obvious).
Finally the day arrived; I was all geared up to meet her, the long awaited moment. For a second I stopped breathing. A gasp of air was stolen from my lungs, from my soul. A loss of a moment, a breath, that would stay embedded in my memory forever. There she was. My eyes were smitten, intensely satisfied, like a child finally receiving a lollypop, after craving the pure sweet sugar sensation all day. My tongue automatically went to lick my lips as they had instantly become dry, a lack of saliva of no account of her own.

She was talking to her companion. They were engrossed in a deep and thoughtful conversation. This stranger, was casually dressed, in a crisp and clean blue shirt, and from what I could see smart denim jeans. Not anyone I would look at twice. But he had distinct features, his hair was jet black, his eyes mysterious and she did not seem comfortable with the conversation she had with him. She came to me shook her hand; I had a glint of mischievous childish joy.
Her lips were pure and soft that I imagine would only sing sweet lullabies to her lover. A lover surely would cherish and adore her. I could not help but stare into her eyes. They were a passageway to her soul.

A soul that could never have known me, but which created an instant yearning in the pit of my stomach. I felt nauseous. I felt uneasy. I felt vulnerable. “Do I like her? Does she like me? No she doesn’t,” I asked myself perplexed.
Then I noted that she looked directly at me, her brilliant black eyes were looking me up and down. It created a sense of absolute familiarity and discomfort. Her stare felt like a piercing sword, thrusting through my heart in one single violent blow. A smile beamed across her incredibly pretty face. She was caught in mid sentence, for she too had lost his train of thought. I viewed her, as if we were past lovers. Her eyes had a distinct knowing.

It was a knowing that startled me, I was never like this before but this girl’s energy destroyed all that was familiar to me. It was peculiar. The sensation that she created in me, forced me to question my future. I knew that in her past, trust and love had been very torturous and unhappy paths and didn’t want her to go through the same again. After having thought enough, one evening I went on my knees

"Will YOU BE MINE?”

I whispered these words to her as I softly caressed the hair off her face. I stared deeply into her eyes, into her soul, as a tear slowly trailed down her cheek. I kissed her tear away.
She had been buried in darkness not wanting to let anyone love her, but I guess, I found a way in. I am almost there, just waiting for the right key to open it.
But fear set in. Would this love stay? It would always remain in my heart. I do not know the answer to this question. All I do is to plead with the universe, “please let her stay a little longer. Let me enjoy her company a little longer.”

Those fear memories had not gone away

I was running back and forth through traffic, the bitches chasing me from either side, and oh no, this bus is headed the wrong way and it’s past midnight, and there I am a cowardly third-grader looking at them taking him away, no, please, not again!.Then I hear a voice from behind “Please get this into the stupid head of yours, I’ll be back, and they mean absolutely nothing to me …..blah blah blah…..” And i screamed, thrashed and wanted to wake up.

Ugh!! The most frightening nightmare! I tried to run away from it and closed all my doors, but it seemed getting in from windows. So, I locked my windows and rendered myself in my room, but with every second it slashed at my ear drums through the tick tick tick of wall clock…...

Some of us suffer from nightmares crippling and persistent enough to demand treatment. I am sure, we all know how bad a nightmare feels, how it surrounds you and surges up to drown you and makes your teeth fall out in chunks and gives you leukemia. Usually the nightmares are easily reactivated by the recent trauma, and just as readily twisted into the basis of a repetitive nightmare. I wish there could be some alternatives to these haunting bitches, swinging blades and frozen fear, for the nightmares to abate and the man to regain his footing.

Undoubtedly bad dreams are a universal human experience. Sometimes they are scary enough to jolt the slumbered awake, in which case they meet the formal definition of nightmares — bad dreams that wake you up. At other times, they are even worse. The sleeper thinks it is over, only to step into the nested nightmare, the chapter 2. Whatever the particulars of the plot, researchers say, nightmares and dreadful dreams offer potentially telling clues into the larger mystery of why we dream in the first place, how our dreaming and waking lives may intersect and cross-infect each other, and, most baffling of all, how we manage to construct a virtual reality in our skull, a seemingly life-size, multidimensional, sensorily rich nocturnal roundhouse staffed with characters so persuasive you want to ... strangle them, before they can strangle you. Whether research subjects keep dream journals at home or sleep in research labs and are periodically awoken out of rapid eye movement-- the stage most often associated with dreaming — the results are the same: about three-quarters of the emotions described are negative.

We are ridiculously industrious dreamers, spending 60 to 70 percent of somnolence dreaming or in a dreamlike state, which works out to three hours nightly spent in a state of anxiety or frustration as we show up late for tests or walk barefoot over broken glass because our shoes have melted. Even bona fide nightmares are more common than most of us realize. Ask people to recall spontaneously how many nightmares they had in the last year, and they might say one or two, ask them to keep a dream diary, and they will report nightmares once or twice a month. Some say nightmares may be related to women’s comparatively higher rates of anxiety and mood disorders. But whatever might be the reason behind, nightmares take the breath outta you……