Exposed!

Few people have lives interesting enough to receive threatening emails from people they know. This made me realise that my life isn't all that bland after all. If my posts have been sounding philosophical or touristy or solemn, with the only traces of humour coming at the expense of my flatmates more often than not, prepare for an overdose of solemnity, to have all humour and lightheartedness wiped out of this blog. I have had threatening emails asking me to behave myself; I have been accused of unfair victimisation and large-scale plans for the persecution of an unjustly indicted innocent young woman (I, of course) had almost been drawn out when the so-called victim (my roommate) saw it fit to laugh at the instances that portrayed her as not exactly the most brilliant housekeeper (good housekeeping is a very important accomplishment indeed, when you're living on your own in a house where the average age of the occupants is 22 years, 7 months).



If all your experience of detective novels, starting from the gingerbread and gingerbeer days of the Five Find Outers to the frosty Scandinavian settings of Henning Mankell's crime stories, hasn't quite helped you figure out what is going on, let me put it simply and plainly for you: my flatmates have begun reading my blog. In a moment of weakness, I gave away the link to my blog as carelessly as I chop potatoes. It is surprising that I haven't had the blade of a knife slice neatly through my finger yet- did I tell you I broke a knife chopping a potato as hard as a bit of rock from a quarry? The blade got wrenched out of the handle and flew across the table, and I sat staring at a sad little bit of black plastic in my hand.



Anyway, casting aside potatoes and knives for the moment, I was in danger of being emotionally tormented and blackmailed as the girls raked up the past and rounded up on me for my not-so-flattering comments. The fact that I haven't mentioned a single name, that they've always remained 'the girls' or 'my flatmates' helped me in my defence; the only chink in the armour was the reference to 'my roommate', but as she is a girl with a pretty practical disposition, I have been saved the blushes- and this blog. So now I must think ahead, be prepared for unwonted circumstances, and be angelically good.

Whom am I kidding?

Harrowing Bus Journeys

I have been in Hyderabad for four days now, and in one short evening, in the span of two hours, to be precise, gone around the entire city and its twin.

Last evening, after much seeking and searching, I boarded the bus home. It was my first time on that bus, on that route, and the only thing I knew when I got in was that it would take me at least forty-five minutes to get home. I fished my book out of my bag and started reading.

About half an hour later, I looked around to see if I could spot any familiar landmarks. Sure enough, a hoarding appeared, and I was glad to know I was on the right bus. (Yes, such doubts did assail me more than halfway through the journey- I am a born sceptic.) However, a little while later, I wasn't dropped off opposite the bank as I'd expected- the bus took a circuitous route, went through lanes and by-lanes (I never knew buses could fit into by-lanes); I almost pressed the panic button, but for the fact that I was rather sure nobody would want to hijack a busful of software engineers. I replaced my book in my handbag, and kept my eyes open. I asked the conductor thrice if I was on the right bus. A high-rise building rose from a sea of roofs, but just as I was beginning to think that I'd seen it in the morning, I realised with a sinking feeling that it wasn't the same one, after all. There were no familiar faces on the bus and that made things a little more difficult. Not that it is easy to recognise people after just two days at work, for when you see a face at office, before you can memorise it, it is lost in a crowd of other new faces.

The bus brushed past every major tourist attraction in Hyderabad- Golconda, Char Minar, Salar Jung Museum, the Planetarium, Birla Mandir- it was quite like being on one of those tourist buses that promise to show you everything but end up showing you nothing.

Despite all the misgivings and confusion, I did manage to get home in an hour- for I was on the right bus.

So, today, when I went looking for my bus in the evening, I felt more confident than I did yesterday. However, this is me we are talking about. Which is why the bus I boarded today was one that took a different route. It didn't take too long for my confidence to evaporate as the bus headed into Secunderabad after passing tantalisingly close to known roads and the Hussain Sagar Lake (I like looking at it, even though it is a poor replacement for the Bay of Bengal). Lost again. I, not the bus. The lanes and the by-lanes followed; I looked down contemplatively at the brown, muddy water swirling by the road where the bus stopped at a red light, wondering where I was going today, if I'd missed my stop- as a precaution (and because I was sleepy), I wasn't even reading. Through Secunderabad, past small railway stations, along impossible roads, the bus travelled. Roads that I didn't know seemed illusively familiar. I peered closely at the addresses mentioned on the boards of hardware shops, chicken shops, banks and pharmacies, for any indication of where I was. I was immensely relieved when I saw an 'H' after several nervous minutes spent reading the 'S' of Secunderabad. As the bus emptied and I wondered if I'd be the only one left on it, I saw a girl tuck her foot up on the seat. I'd normally call this despicable behaviour, but today, it only meant she wasn't getting off the bus soon, and I loved her for it.

Something has been going reasonably right, though, because I reached home safe and in one piece yet again.

Tomorrow is another day.

Driving Forces

The Tatas have finally come out with the much-talked about ‘one-lakh car’. Naturally, no event of significance (or insignificance) can take place in our country without the customary news channel debates. The environmentalists with their scepticism on the pollution that numerous such cars on the road would add to; the auto journalist quite in favour of what he had seen at the launch; Suhel Seth taking on all the detractors of the car. Times Now had one of the most entertaining debates yesterday, and for the first time, thanks to Seth, I was thoroughly convinced that the Nano would fulfil the promises the Tatas had been making. I must admit I was quite sceptical about the scheme when it was announced, but seeing that it is quite a neat little design and doesn’t compromise on any of the necessities, it is perhaps the answer to a common man’s dream of owning a car.

The Tatas were never people to do things by half-measures. The Nano is a simple, straightforward car with no frills. As of now, it doesn’t aspire to the features that essentially define the ideas of ‘dream cars’. However, it will help a lot of people move towards their dream of owning a car. It might cost a little more than a lakh; it will still be the most affordable car around. During the debate, the environmentalists questioned if it would be environmentally feasible. Medha Patkar argued against the crowding of roads, and against building highways. Sunita Narain protested against the environmental implications, as did Dr. RK Pachauri. Most of these people are in favour of improving public transport. They argue that India doesn’t have environmental norms that are strict enough. So why should that turn them against the Tatas, who don’t make laws here, but are just trying to help ordinary people realise their dreams?

Seth said these people were against progress; that they had ‘a problem for every solution’. If pollution is the only objection, surely that is to be alleviated through measures that don’t include calling for a ban on the manufacture of cars. We cannot protest against car manufacturers who want to set up shop in India and sell their cars here and perhaps even export them. What of all the employment opportunities? People cannot be forced to depend on public transport. Think of the Blueline buses. If the Chief Minister of Delhi couldn’t be persuaded to travel on one, is it justifiable to deny a common man private transport that he can afford? This is lopsided logic, coming from people who probably haven’t used public transport in years.

Switching gears to extremely expensive cars, the lineup for the ForceIndia F1 team has finally been announced.
Giancarlo Fisichella, in danger of finding himself jobless after having to make way at Renault for ex-teammate (or rival) Fernando Alonso, had Vijay Mallya come to his rescue. He will partner German Adrian Sutil, whose talents have been appreciated in his earlier stint with Midland F1 (which is now ForceIndia). Former Toro Rosso driver Vitantonio Liuzzi will be testing for the Indian-Dutch team. It will be interesting to see what the priorities of this new team will be. Testing wasn’t particularly impressive; but now, with a race-winning driver in its ranks who will bring in a good bit of experience and expertise, they should be able to move up above Super Aguri. That is the least they can do.

One grudge, though- can no sport in India do without a movie star for company? Shah Rukh Khan is the brand ambassador of the ForceIndia team. Having it endorsed by the drivers themselves, or other sportsmen, would have been better. Oh well, Mallya knows best.