The Laughter league

 

The Laughter league

               …………  full of Life

Arrived at Hotel Panchavati to meet and discuss sale of  property with prospective investor . The restaurant was unusually crowded. Found a table for 4 at one corner. The adjacent table was occupied by a gaggle of boisterous, excited  giggling teen age  girls . As I waited  for client’s arrival , I couldn't help but catch their conversation ,it was loud enough !

It was apparent that they were preparing for some  event.

 Girl 1: : अरे ओ साम्भा भाई कितने आदमी थे ?

  (Squealing all around).

 Girl 2: :  only 4 सर्कार  … after thought “Don’t ask कौन थे ”

   More laughter and squealing

Girl 1 : : वो 4 और  and तुम alone? Right? ?...  (shrill screams) 

 

Girl 2: :  in Kannada ನಾನು ಒಂದು ಪ್ರಶ್ನೆಗೆ ಒಂದೇ……….. ಸಲ  ಉತ್ತರಿಸೋದು  Understand ? ( shrill hysterical squeals)

Girl 1 : और तुम  उसको defeat नहीं कर  पाये ?  ….. Giggles all round

Girl 2: :Try तो  किया री…….

Voice from the group: “ She’s Non Violent ” More squeals and uncontrolled laughter.

Girl 1 : : Useless ,  कालिया, पिस्तौल देना

Girl 2: : Yes सर्कार .Right away सर्कार. Hands over her purse: डिशम डिशम

              (delirious shrieking,screaming, yelling all around)

 Voice from Group: Hey,  ಕಾಫಿ ಬಂತು ಕಣ್ಣ್ರೆ.  Prolongued giggles, banter.                  &  Discordant  Cacophony

My phone rings. Voice at the other end apologizes for delay & informs that the Party will arrive within next 15 minutes . Impulsively a thought occurred there could be more entertainment by this “ laughter league” !

But,as they finished their coffee, the excited group got ready to leave."

I asked one of the girls what was going on, and she replied, “We’re just practicing  funny skit for college day, Uncle."

 

This unexpected interlude proved to be a powerful catalyst for nostalgia, instantly transporting me to my own college days—a time typically characterized by high-pitched laughter & repartee, intense bonding, and carefree expression. It evoked impressions of a "golden age" of life, where friendships were forged quickly and emotions were uninhibitedly shared.

 Memories  like  storming “Chandra Café” after a cricket match to feast on masala dosas and coffee for just ₹ 0:65 apiece, and watching the waiter & cook struggle to keep up was pure comedy  Seeing other visitors curse our marathon sessions while we enjoyed the entire  batch of batter  & shamelessly basking in the annoyed glares and frustrated curses of other guests  was absolute bliss."

Phones and social media have definitely changed things. We used to just hang out more without constantly checking screens. People still want to socialize, but Spontaneous light-hearted banter is becoming outdated. There just aren’t many natural ways to break the ice anymore. There were fewer online distractions then .People had to meet up in person more often, and friendships seemed tighter because of that.

 

 

Wrung & Wrested

 

Wrung & Wrested

 

The life of a “squeezee” bottle is a journey from promising flawless delivery  to a desperate battle for the last drop. It starts with easy, "ad-perfect" dollops, but quickly evolves into a ritual requiring excessive emotional persuasion  and, eventually, aggressive bouts of strangling to extract the last remaining drop. Even when deemed empty and about to be discarded, single minded determination brings it back from the recycling bin for that one final serving. Ultimately, it’s a stubborn, stressful tussle for every last dribble, proving that the final, hard-won blob is the tastiest and   is worth the chaotic effort.

 

 My hand looks  extremely rough, calloused,& wrinkled like dry tree bark  but I’m not bothered.

The  Lady of the House  is suspecting  my sanity right now, But that  hardly matters.

 I know we have a brand-new Squeezee bottle of Ketchup right there in the fridge taunting me, but I don't really care. I am not opening it until every inch of  pride is squeezed out this obstinate one and it is  truly dead.

OLD FEELINGS, NEW INTERPRETATION

 

OLD FEELINGS, NEW INTERPRETATION

 

Sometimes a random memory pops into the head without reason —like an old  minor incident or scene—and it completely changes how we see it a  now.

Impressions from ordinary routine happenings often hold a quiet transformative power, elevating seemingly trivial forgotten events into unforgettable instances of grounding and personal refinement. Life is not defined solely by extravagant deeds, but rather by the accumulation of small, seemingly insignificant moments, actions, and experiences.

 

I visited a friend in January this year  to meet his son and daughter-in-law, who had come with their six-month-old baby daughter from Assam where they live.

 

The door was opened by a little girl flashing a big smile , surely no older than 12 years, holding the baby close to her chest. I couldn't help asking her name and if she went to school. Sadly, I learned she doesn't. Mansi (she pronounced it मंसी ) — that was her name, politely asked me to be seated. She went inside and returned with a glass of water for me, telling me that “saab and ma’am” would be would be right out.

 The host’s family filled the room, the air thick with chatter and laughter. The daughter-in-law sat cradling her baby , the centre of everyone's attention. But my gaze kept drifting towards little Mansi. She stood quietly behind her mistress, nearly invisible in a corner of the room . Soon I bid goodbye and left.

 

At first, I treated the visit as a casual courtesy call, barely giving it a second thought. But  a couple of days ago, the memory suddenly forced its way into my mind, gripping me with its poignancy.

What struck me was the quiet radiance on little Mansi’s  face—eyes sparkling with genuine joy, and a perpetual smile on her face. She looked utterly content in her role. Watching her, I realized she was masterful at what she did, moving with a blend of tender care and quiet dedication that went far beyond mere duty.

 

Recalling the sequence of events I felt really sad seeing the little girl working, because at that  age she should just be carefree, go to school, play & have fun, ,but here she was working.

 

Now as  I sat in silence, grappling with the starkness of that memory: a little girl with a little(r) baby clinging to her hip!, I realized how important it is to be good at whatever you do,no matter what you do. I myself am pretty bad at many things or don’t do things with enthusiasm. It is good to accept things as they are and face them, as that incredible little girl was doing. Happiness is sure to follow.

 

So the moral of this story is that we can learn small or big lessons in life from people around us, people like little Mansi, who probably doesn’t even understand the meaning of a blog .But thanks to her I am writing this.

 

 

 

 

The Two-Minute Tyranny

 

The Two-Minute Tyranny

 

For a decade & more, the ritual was the same: Customers in a Bank  would spend an hour—often more—sitting in a dimly lit  branch, waiting for a human teller to process a simple withdrawal. People accepted it as the inherent cost of doing business. Time was sluggish, and in turn, we were patient.

 

Then came the "innovative" bank teller systems. The wait time dropped to 30 minutes. Customers felt like they were living in the future. "A breeze," they called it.

 

Later, the first Automated Teller Machines (ATMs) arrived; bringing with it joy that knew no bounds. Money at the tap of a button ? No teller? No lines? It was instant gratification wrapped in plastic and steel. We felt this was the absolute peak, a pinnacle of efficiency that could never ever be surpassed.

 

But, Yippee, it did.

 

Technology continued to accelerate its clock speed, altering every facet of life. Consequently, people   unknowingly developed  uncompromising  characteristics, even for minor hiccups and  adopted a zero-tolerance policy.

Yesterday, I witnessed that illusion of boundless tolerance come crashing down. As I was leaving the bank, a middle-aged gentleman walked up to the ATM booth. He was forced to wait as another customer was engaged in a transaction. I watched as the person in front stumbled through the process. The man waiting behind grew restless, gripping his wallet, & fuming.

I could fairly guess what he was thinking: Clearly vicious, turning every second into an hour. After just two minutes—a time frame that would have been considered faster than blinking a decade ago—the man was ready to scream.

As he shuffled impatiently, I had the staggering realization about the world today, the terrifying truth of this era: As technology brings us closer to instant results, it makes us less capable of waiting for anything at all. Patience, once seasoned  to endure long delays has been optimized and compressed until it is brittle, snapping at a mere 120 seconds of inconvenience.

Technology is making the world move faster and faster, and it has set us racing against time that seems to be riding a runaway treadmill.

 

 

 

Tiny Gestures , Lasting Ripples

 

Tiny Gestures ,  Lasting Ripples

The month of March always brings me back to the bustling Chikka Gadiyaara—the small clock tower Square in the heart of the city at the southern end of Devaraja Market. It is a ritual I never miss. Amidst the familiar row of stationery shops that have served generations, I carry fond memories of countless visits, from my school days to the present, to shops  like Gowri Shankar Book Depot and Vishwanatha Book Depot.

 

However, Adinarayana Shetty & Sons stands among the oldest, a wholesaler’s haven stocking everything from Camlin to Pilot, Flair to Staedtler. Bangalore Press Calendar to Palaniappa, Srirangam to Vontikoppal Panchangam .A fortnight ago, I visited them to buy the new Panchangam. Inside, the shopkeeper was busy attending to an old man, clearly a small shop owner from one of the city's extensions.

The elderly man, likely in his seventies, had his face etched with the deep, weathered lines of a life lived under harsh conditions. He was meticulously arranging his large consignment of assorted stationery, diaries, and notebooks. In his hand, he clutched two large bags, so worn out and colourless from relentless, heavy usage that they seemed an extension of his own skin.

Yet, it was his eyes that intrigued me; they held a quiet, intense depth—a profound blend of  vigour and utter calm.

As the shopkeeper was busy checking and rechecking the long list, I had to wait. Sensing my impatience, the old man turned to me and asked, "What is your requirement, sir?"

"Two Srirangam Panchangams," I replied, my voice reflecting the irritation of a long wait.

As the shopkeeper began reading out his items, the old man carefully ticked them off his own list. When the final item was verified, he instructed the shopkeeper to add  two Srirangam panchangams to his list, taking care to ask the cost first. As the items were about to be packed together, he took the panchangams from the shopkeeper and handed them to me.

"100 Rupees, sir," the old man said, stretching out his hand to receive the money from me , even as his own massive bill was yet to be prepared.

As he turned back to his work, he offered a smile that revealed a lifetime of toil and habits—brown paan marks staining his teeth. He was a portrait of raw humanity, a living story waiting to be told.

 

I turned to leave, but an involuntary glance back stopped me in my tracks—to cherish the moment so unexpected, which I wished to freeze into my memory

But the harsh weather of the afternoon interrupted my illusion. I snapped back to the present. Clutching my new panchangams, I hurried back toward the auto stand.

,

Only those who have walked the long, arduous road of life bearing the weight of  hardship can truly recognize the feelings  of others..It takes a person  having   profound, firsthand understanding of life & a seasoned heart  to look past his own struggles and find solace in helping someone else. True empathy often comes from those who have endured the most.  I was lucky to benefit from such pure kindness & courtesy on this occasion.

 

Efficiency. A challenge . A.Symphony

 

Efficiency. A challenge . A.Symphony

The vegetables are neatly cut  & diced, the tomatoes  pureed, the tamarind is soaked  and ready to be squeezed ,  rice is boiling merrily, the rasam  simmering gently, so is the Sambhar but  with some ferocity .A South Indian meal is cooking.

Because traditional South Indian cooking avoids combining everything into one dish & the intricacy of the  cuisine rarely relies on one-pot cooking we have all three  burners of the stove active, with multiple vessels & pans  in use.!

Unfortunately , it takes a war to bring sustainable practices & mindfulness  to the forefront of our minds. Praying for a quick end to the conflict and for lasting, profound insights.

Meanwhile, the Indane IVRS keeps prompting us to try later, adding to the suspense.

Unleashing 13th Man

 

 Unleashing 13^th  Man

The new age Cricket Fan is Chaotic,loud and deeply emotional.He will abuse a Player in the first match for failure and sing  paeans for his brilliant performance in the second. These are the aficionado who ensures that  cricket is not just a sport but a daily Soap Opera with a billion Scriptwriters. The Modern day  cricket fan is a fascinating hybrid of Gen-Z, Super Analyst , a meme Lord and above all a diehard Hyper-Nationalist.. He just doen’t watch the game. He consumes it in 10 second intervals, comparing Virat’s cover drive to AI generated Precision and mourning a Loss as if it was  a  calamity in his family.The Fan knows better than the team Management , coach & selector  and firmly believes that he could fix Gill’s technical faults by screaming at the TV..He demands that he should    “ कम से कम थोड़ा INTENT तो दिखाओ  भैय्या जी “ . The New age fan just doesn’t wait:he can post a meme involving a crying child or even an apt Bollywood Dialogue.He is faster than DRS.creating a meme even before  a player reaches the dug-0ut..

 

So, I take it upon myself  to guide prospective fans on how to play the beautiful gentleman’s game in this post. But with a warning , I played some cricket,  just the leisurely  calm vintage  type a long  long time ago. Cricket has  evolved  a lot since then. It is getting boring faster with every new “Creative”  Rule meant to boost interest .

So, Here we Go ! without further digression . And I promise that there will be no  ads popping out awkwardly , at most inappropriate moments.

GUIDELINE 1: Get yourself a tattoo.It might not be difficult to locate a  parlour .You will normally find one  squeezed between bakeries and drycleaners  or such other shops in the busy market area. or you can enquire with  one of those Jazzy  “Walking Art Gallery” types too for directions

 

GUIDELINE 2:  Get a Hairdo, .Creepier the better, even if you don’t have a bushy thick cover. The aging  Super stars do it all the time! to present a lush look to  their balding  pate

This  should  be simple  & lot easier on your purse . All you need to do is visit the friendly neighborhood Bar…..r  , err…  Hair Stylist & watch  TV.while he snips away. Rest assured this will be more entertaining   than watching Manjrekar in the post  match summary  or on occasions better than  watching the on-field tamasha itself. .

 

GUIDELINE 3 : Buy some cricket franchise Tees.

Original team jumpers cost a fortune. Unless a pumped up dude on the turf decides to twirl it over his head for no good reason ,& lets go …….and you are the lucky one on whose head it falls. To get T-shirts at bargain prices, you can haggle with  vendors  on the footpath   around the railway station & bus stand or outside the stadium   . You can buy  T- Shirts  of your favourite Franchise team that have  “Kolkota   Night Rides”, Lucknow Supari Joints”   “ Son  razors Hyderbad ”  .printed on them.  They are the cheapest.

 

GUIDELINE 4:Get yourself a cold Drink. and settle down in front of your T.V. You can even hold a placard Reading  “ Don’t Disturb” on your left hand and keep tossing popcorn/chips  into your mouth with the other from the tub(Drum ) held between your knees,

If you are the  Fizz type , it is okay too. But when you tell others about it, remember to pronounce Bindu fizz as B I R A   R I S E (pronounced as  RiZZzzzzz)

 

 If you have come this far, you’re amazing. You are the most experienced Cricket reviewer  around.You are even better than  Athar Ali  Khan & Anjum Chopra in the same box

 

GUIDELINE 5: Watch a Night  match (you have no option actually! Literally no  cricket match is played during day time these days)

This is the most challenging  step. For one thing, it starts late evening & ends very  late in the night, like 11:30 PM. ! But still, remember your goal: you want to learn to play the “Gentleman,s” Game. So motivate yourselves. Sip Bindu  Fizz  in little quantities  till the match starts. Once the match starts, watch players closely particularly the “Stars” for any new inventive  clowning     (Hint: Glamorous  players wear   bizzare looking shades and have more taped fingers)

Watch closely how the guys  near the boundary ropes engage themselves with  screaming fans or how the bowlers exult , indulge in   Gymnastics, or shriek in agony & practice it.

Congratulations! You have learnt the nuances of the game, and eligible to play one or the other     PLs. You are very likely the best cricket analyst in Asia. .

You can begin your internship TODAY with the  World Cup Final ,but continue to watch  I, C, T, M or any other ……..PL matches on TV every day  to hone your skills  so that you are ready for  that grand  spectacle, the latest edition of IPL  but if you feel   dozy  at any point of time  you can keep poking  the Buttons on the TV Remote , flick through channels  and watch  sublime   shows Like  “Crime Patrol”:, “Tele Shopping” , “C I D” or .Zombie Kaadhali”

Beyond Sustenance ………..A Symbolic Act

 

Beyond Sustenance
                  ………..A Symbolic Act

Prelude: Having spent the best part of my life among teenagers & kids I have learnt that in a world increasingly fractured by personal disagreements, the act of sharing a meal remains one of the most effective rituals for reconciliation. It is a simple (ancient) practice that transforms "us vs. them" into just "us ", breaking down barriers, and creating  space where,empathy takes precedence over conflict. Sharing food is not just about consuming calories

The added “Fluff” & descriptive nature of the narrative  have more to do with expanding a relatively common  incident and transforming it into a “Read Worthy” story than  offer a comprehensive gastronomic critique of the cuisine

_____________________________________________________________________ 

The chemistry among our group was legendary & the rapport   incredible.Two among the group had developed a very close friendship People were sometimes even envious of their closeness.. They  swapped sun glasses,wrist watches  & sometimes even T-shirts & Bikes  every now and then and always moved together  And Yes, their physique  was  identical too. They weren’t relatives either

But then, suddenly a crack appeared. No one  had any idea of the reason what caused it The relationship became strained . Gossip was rife among other friends  regarding  the reason for the split  and soon everyone was talking  about the great fall out .

Days passed . Each one vigoursly  avoided  any conversation which referred to the Other. Any move by common friends  to help them break the impasse  was spurned. We were forced to remain helpless by standers  in the   unfortunate situation.

Having picked them up as young boys & mentored them for years, I was proud to see them excel in their own fields of interest. Like the others  I was perturbed by  this sudden spat . After careful thought I  weighed the decision in my head and then  finally decided on trying it out though I feared that  it could  prompt some  embarrassment among the rest of the  friends  & lead to  uncomfortable moments. But I was sure that I had made the correct decision under the circumstances

  They arrived. Separately ! as expected .Apparently, they two former buddies were doing their best to avoid facing  each other.I somehow managed to position  myself  between them even as they  ignored  each other and  weren’t prepared to  do anything about it. It was very clear they were here only at my behest to spend an evening with our other friends .

 They  did their best to  keep distance. But the rest the evening went beautifully with Cherished memories, nostalgia, camaraderie and some scrumptious food,

After some friendly Banter over soft drinks and snacks the group converged on the large dining table in a circle and waited for it. Soon, the cook came out. He first brought out the snacks, salad, pappad, sundry  vegetable accompaniment.

   Cooked Rice came in next ;  delicate , fragrance wafting through the air, the cooked grains  a texture as light and soft as jasmine buds.

 

A  dozen hands unmindful of any Dining etiquette   shoveled generous quantities on to their  plates, taking care to create craters atop the heap, in anticipation of what the chef promised to bring in next, the culinary marvel that he boasted about, the flavorful Moringa/Shallot Sambhar.Swirling in the fumes  in front of him, the cook placed his  culinary masterpiece on the table.The air wafted from over the dish and into our nostrils  & hit our senses.

 

The cook then brought out the curry. He had decided to present Roasted Baby potatoes that day. A few  grumbled at the choice but I knew I need not bother. Once it was served on  to their respective plates, I knew we would not have enough of it

I myself popped a few golden roasted baby potatoes onto the top of my rice mound. They rolled  down the slope  and settled on the periphery of my plate like stringed giant beads the glistening oil traversing paths  across the surface  of my steel plate. I picked up a  potato  and it  cracked   at  mere touch. The Crispy chunk  huddled into my palms like golden  nuggets and I popped   them up into my  mouth. Even as I chomped on them cheerfully, I could  see  signs  of merriment  permeating the air around . The mood was upbeat. Was the remedy at work,?  I smiled to myself, between morsels of Rice, Baby potato , flavorful Moringa Sambhar. &  steamed rice.

Tangy  rasam arrived next & was passed around . Rich and aromatic, I could tell the cook had surpassed himself. Shreds of coconut floated around the surface, adding to the flavor. Tiny clusters of mustard sat on  curry leaves like sailors on  a canoe . I managed to scoop up  a few  and crunched on the leaves.

As I had hoped, the food was cheering up the mood all around.. I almost thought I saw the two  exchange a faint smile  , but wasn’t too sure.

Friends scattered in small groups were indulging in animated banter .

The two embittered former friends chose to join  groups which were farthest from each other

. But the mood was upbeat.  The mollifying repast had indeed lifted our spirits . And then it happened

One of the embittered duo  approached the other ,sat down next to him and offering him the Dessert Bowl with Dry Jamoon &  Ice cream  Said “Here,try this, very tasty” The other  looked over, smiled and accepted the concillatory offering . The  group whooped in delight and  cheered  the  success of the “ Dessert Reconciliation ” gambit