The Cocktail of Life

As torrents of rain soaked the sun-parched city in its wet embrace, the roads were a mass of dirty puddles and garbage strewn carelessly. Walking along the roads, especially after rains, is a harrowing experience. Firstly, the ground is slippery and you never know when you would here the 'thud' followed by your body somersaulting into the slush.

Then, there is garbage all around which is usually accompanied by an obnoxious odor. If that is not enough, the motorists have a field day playing muddy paint ball and splashing the dirty brown mixture of mud and slush to the poor souls who are walking on the road. But, that is just one part of the monsoon season in Chennai.

When the monsoon announced its grand arrival, I was stuck in a sequence of events from pleasant to dangerous. As I got down the bus (with a million muddy shoe prints, wet seats and a musty smell in the air), I decided to walk to the theater since the weather was pleasant and the rains had decided to take a nap. That moment, I realized the monstrous task which lay ahead of me as I picked my way to the Sathyam Cinemas Multiplex.

Being a movie buff, I quickly grabbed the opportunity to watch Quentin Tarantino's Inglourious Basterds screened especially for the press. True to his style, the maestro of monstrosity delivered a masterpiece with ultimate style. Star struck, I made my way to meet a very close friend of mine, a mirror image who had come back to the city after a two month hiatus (read as holiday) at the Capital. A long pending visit to Zara Tapas, a perennially favourite hangout, was finally fulfilled as we sat on the plush leather sofas exchanging stories over delicious pasta and martini. Too soon, it was time to bid adieu till we met again (the very next day).

A pleasant day at work with ample socializing and friendly bantering ensued and as the work day closed, it was time to head back home. Ra (my travel companion and much more than that) suggested that we get drenched in the rain. For my contemporary bent of mind, this seemed to be a great idea! I rushed to our usual meeting point and enjoyed the light drizzle as it tingled our skin with its wet freshness.

Standing there under the dim streetlight, we let many 23C buses go past us deliberately in an attempt to grab as much of the magical moment as we could. Finally, when the inevitable could no longer be postponed, we got into a bus and managed to find two empty seats next to each other. The rest of the journey broke the last shreds of any barrier of formality as we decided to let the romantic mood prevail. Ra had her headphones and each of us plugged our ears with one ear plug as the mushy songs washed over us despite the cacophony of the usual sounds around us.

The monsoons symbolize much more than mere weather changes. It is a signal to cherish every drop from the cup of life, a reason to celebrate our existence and forget the past or the future and stay suspended in the confines of the present. On retrospection, the monsoons didn't just bring the rains but composed the medley of life on a single tune. Monsoons, movie, magic, martini, madness and music - in short, the cocktail of life!

The Beach Blitzkrieg

If I ever were to leave Chennai, the only thing which I would miss will be the beach! I guess it is an inherent trait of anyone who had the pleasure of living near the coast. Personally speaking, the beach is the place to go, if you are feeling sad or happy or anywhere in between.

Of all the beaches, my favorite happens to be the Elliot's Beach. Why? Well, every time I go to this particular beach, there is something special in store for me. Each time, it is a new experience - like falling in love all over again and again with the same person.

One fine Saturday evening, the night sky dazzled with a thousand twinkling stars. A gentle breeze engulfed us in its cool embrace. A million tiny sparks flew around as the aroma of roasted corn wafted into the air. The myriad stalls adorned the dark shore with their incandescent bulbs casting a warm glow.

I walked bare foot on the silky sands letting the fine grains caress my feet. At that moment, I felt that Mother Nature was embracing my sorrows, slowly eliciting strands of sadness from every cell of my body. The frustration, the angst, the million questions and the futility of it all were gently lifted away from my soul by the cool breeze. I closed my eyes and let the salty taste in the air penetrate my system. I felt a tingling in my skin as I could feel Nature lay her soothing hand on my shoulder.

The water was just a few feet away from where we sat. As we watched the waves rollick into a gigantic white mass and crash against the sandy shore, the evening was magical. The sounds of our laughter reverberated through the shores. The World was far, far away and a moment of absolute peace had transcended upon us.

Every time I head to Elliot's Beach (or any other beach for that matter) and lay down my cares on its consecrated shores, I feel liberated. The beach is an indication for us mortals to cherish the simple joys of life - like walking barefoot in the sand or chasing half-inflated balloons or eating the spicy bajjis or listening to the gentle rumble of the waves or just the feeling of infinite happiness which slowly creeps into your soul at the sight of this beautiful vista.

23C - the ordeal and respite!

Public transport is the most outrageous joke in the city. Especially in a place like Chennai, the buses are the most popular mode of travel. The auto rickshaws do not qualify as public transport as they plunder the hapless citizens. These auto drivers are uncouth fellows with a nasty scowl and lofty ideas of service as they charge a ransom for short distances. There are a few exceptions to this rule but the majority of them fall in the above category.

So, to escape the auto atrocities, the buses are the only solace. Now, traveling by bus is not for the weak hearted or the wobbly limbed. Worse still, if there is only one bus which travels around the city - from one end to the other. I take the famous 23C from the Aynavaram depot and I must confess, I have learned what patience is all about.

If you are not aware of the 23C series, here is what you should know. The bus is packed to its brim, regardless of the hour of the day. The only time it is empty is when it is at the depot. So, a wide cross section of the society is at your disposal with their unique expressions - ranging from boredom to anger to open disgust.

Etiquettes are unheard of and the most useful tool which one should be armed with is a wide vocabulary of choicest expletives in the local lingo. These buses seriously defy the law of gravity and how they safely reach the final destination is nothing short of a miracle considering the numerous souls who hang on to anything they could hold on to for dear life.

I am one of those mortals who go through this ordeal every single day. Now, I think I got extremely lucky. After a few days of silent observation, I spotted her near the window seat furiously talking on the phone. What caught my attention was that Ra (that's what I'd call her) was speaking in Urdu and in an accent which would not be qualified as poetic.

I must confess that I was eavesdropping on her conversation. This is quite normal considering the fact that I had 45 minutes to kill and I desperately needed a diversion from acknowledging the fact that my hands were aching from hanging on the overhead bars to stay upright. We got off at the same stop and we mutually acknowledged each other with a nod.

A few days later, we chanced to be in the same bus but this time, sitting next to each other. With nothing else to do but speak, we started rattling off in Urdu. She was two years younger than I and worked just a couple of blocks away from my work place. Ra called me 'didi' and I guess that sealed the pact for us.

We travel together to work and when our schedules permit, we return at the same time. Ra is my source of unlimited entertainment - slapstick humour at it's best with a tinge of innocence. I look forward to traveling by bus because I know she would be there and the moment I speak to her, I feel light and happy. She is the sort of younger sister who I longed to have. We share all aspects of our lives despite being like chalk and cheese.

There were times when we'd waited for two hours for a bus but we never realized time fly by. The moment we see each other, time is no longer a burden and the long, tedious commute by bus is no more a chore. I don't know what I am to her but in a short time, she has become an indispensable companion to me.

A Prologue

What is the blaze of glory? Or, what is the phoenix in the sky? Well, a random sunset at Besant Nagar beach (with my cousin - my best friend) changed my life in an instant. As I was watching the sun go down, the sky was a blaze of fiery pink in the form of a phoenix. 

As I stood there with a heavy heart and contemplating on my life's useless course, my cousin exclaimed, "It's a phoenix". That was the defining moment! Like a miracle, my burdens slipped from my shoulders. I was born again and I was re-discovering myself from the annals of my soul. 

The legendary Phoenix is a flaming bird which burns to ashes as it's life ends, only to be reborn again. I was wondering if that was a signal for me to shed the past and start a new future. My life was not over, not yet! 

I had an inkling that my life would change but I had no idea that a tempest would rock my turbulent shores. It blew away the cobwebs in my head and the World was a fresh green colour amidst the earthy brown. A brand new beginning and a chance to set things straight.

This is the story of my life. The tale of my metamorphosis, the saga of my journey. At times, the road takes a sharp bend but sometimes, it is as smooth as a mirror. I traverse between the peaks of happiness and valleys of sadness. And, this is the journal to chronicle the pathways of my life.