Two posts in one day, I really need to learn to pace myself, seeing that I went a few years without even a single one! But hey, I have time, I have thoughts, some depressingly nostalgic, others optimistically themed. And you, my dear eyeball owners are my captive audience, so enjoy, or do not, either way I couldn't really be bothered.
I have an old friend, he lives close to my home, we meet for drinks every Saturday night, a ritual that we have kept up with through breakups, highs, lows and covid as well. We enjoy each others company, or at least I do, he being the free thinking idiot that he is, may have a differing opinion. We spend Saturday nights in each others company, having a few drinks, pontificating about current affairs, the state of the country, things we experienced through the week, and in his case for a long time, the marital woes of a man who has a wife and 2 children. Now that I am married myself, I find myself empathising a little more with his troubles. He runs a manufacturing tool room, making tools and dies for the automotive industry and others via their channel of ancillary vendors in the ecosystem. His tool room has some snazzy CNC machines that operate 24/7 and churn out jobs that seemingly keep his stove burning. He happens to be a commerce graduate, who, by dint of his on the job training and 20 years of running his business is more of an engineer than those trained in the profession, like me will ever get the chance to be. But, I digress, this post was intended to describe our relationship, our Saturday evenings and little else.
So we walk to the nearest watering hole, about 700 meters away, each Saturday evening around 8:30 PM. Just like the bar in the sitcom, Cheers, its a place where everybody knows our name. So we are welcomed by the head waiter and led to our choice of tables, far enough from the lavatory, and well situated below two ceiling fans to be comfortable. We have been frequenting this haven for more than 10 years now, and it has since had a management change, but what has not changed is our continued patronage of this establishment. Chitranna, the man in charge here, greets us personally and we shake his hand, as he directs us to our seats and informs us about what he intends to send to our tables. And we never second guess his choices, for he understands our taste, and historically his choices have always been excellent. Once we are settled in, we order our drinks, and as we wait for them to arrive, look around at our fellow patrons, some of whom are regulars just like ourselves. There is the odd couple, both middle aged men, one clearly the dominant one with his lackey. The dominant one belongs to a political party know for extreme right wing views, and though irrelevant in the larger scheme of things, makes enough noise and trouble to remain in the news. He orders red wine, which I think is totally out of character for his persona, that being almost Godfather-like, more thug than Don Corleone. We wave at him, my friend who is usually effusive and talkative shares a conversation or two with him in Marathi, while I tap my fingers on the table wishing the waiter to bring our liquid courage soon. Soon, thankfully the drinks arrive, and the waiter goes through an elaborate ritual of mixing them with soda, mixer and water as the case may be. We bang our glasses together and take the first sip. Soon after we fill the relative silence with words. He starts talking about things he thinks are wrong with the world, I nod in agreement and keep sipping my drink. Soon it is my turn to vent, and I have precious little to contribute to the theme of the evening, not being long enough in the marital situation to really have 'woman issues', and not really caring about anything going on in politics to have a strong opinion about it. Occasionally, we find a topic that the both of us share similar views about, and here the lubricated vocabularies of our sozzled minds reach their creative epitomes, as we deliver TED talks to each other about either Virat Kohli's cricketing abilities, Narendra Modi's political genius or simply how good the latest automobile launched by Honda/Mahindra/Tata is.
As we continue the night, the drinks make way for food, and if in an extravagant mood, we order some ice cream for dessert. Then it becomes time to end the night and go back to our real lives. We settle the bill, and begin walking homewards. It is near 1:30 AM by now, my family is fast asleep. His children though are ready and waiting to resume jumping on their bed, much to his dismay. Such is life, I guess. And while I recognise that I am perhaps 3 years and one offspring away from being in the same situation, in the interim, I shall enjoy my peaceful repost.
Sunday, July 5, 2020
Corona Pandemic, China, and other random musings
Yeah, another post on Corona. Another drop in the ocean of literary nothingness that we find ourselves surrounded by these days. Perhaps a little different perspective though, one of a homebound motorcyclist that used to roam the highways, but is presently grounded and in the near future shall have to remain so.
The corona pandemic has brought to our doorsteps a shutdown that has been unprecedented in our lifetime. Everything is shut, malls, coffee shops, restaurants, economy and yes, even your friendly neighbourhood cigarette shop. There are people who lived their lives on instagram, with daily posts of the sun and sand, the hilltops, beautiful oceans, crazy parties and more. These insta-fluencers find themselves shutdown. 2020 has not been a good year for anybody, least of all those who depended on these outdoor vistas for their likes and livelihood. It has been a hell of a year for those who were planning on getting married, buying a house, a new car, going abroad for a vacation, hell just joining a gym as part of the guilt ridden new year resolution they thought they would adhere to for a month or two before allowing the guilt to fade and be replaced by their forever constant slovenliness that they remain in denial of. I, myself had grand plans to go on a motorcycle trip for 10 days, exploring the beautiful nation that is India. Now, I could lie and blame corona for not getting around to it this year, but truth be told, I have been putting it off since the beginning of 2019. Which brings us back to the fact that life is short, eat dessert first!
There are people who are keyboard warriors and spew venom, angst, frustration and vent against all things Chinese. And I do not blame them. But then there are those that see that this kind of situation separates the men from the boys, and it has certainly done so with regards to the Indian leadership. Our Prime Minister, a 69 year old right wing nationalist who leads our country did the single most inspiring thing any head of state could. He made a surprise visit to the top of our country, Ladakh, a place that is well known to all motorcyclists as it is on all our bucket lists. This little Union Territory is 11000 feet above sea level, and all of us know that at those altitudes changing a car tyre, or even laughing very hard is a feat that only the superhuman amongst us can achieve with ease. And yet, this 69 year old, thumbing his nose at AMS, pooh poohing the entire acclimatisation directive that forces those of us that are young, flew into Ladakh, address the Indian Armed Forces, spent 7 hours walking around, nay strutting like a lion, roaring into the microphones and putting down speeches that were akin to those made by Mel Gibson in Braveheart on the battlefield. For that, and for many other reasons, I remain in awe of this stellar gentleman. For, I know close friends and family who on reaching those altitudes had to take the aid of medication and sleep for a few days just to be able to function the next day.
So what is China upto, when they are being cornered by the civilised world for exporting this virus, for laying waste to our indigenous manufacturing industries, and still brazenly having border conflicts with all of their neighbours? Perhaps, we should ask the WHO. They seem to have a relationship that is more than that of a donor to their charity. I will not speculate on China's intent. All I know is that their intent does not serve my countries interests, and is expansionist and something that the world does not need today of all days. So, I will allow Arnab Goswami to take them on, night after night, his vocal chords blasting decibels of aggressive intent towards their actions and intentions. Maybe they will see the light and do the right thing (which ironically could be them not doing anything more).
For now though, this virus makes me think of a poem by the late great William Blake, The Tyger, and specifically one line in his poem:
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?
The corona pandemic has brought to our doorsteps a shutdown that has been unprecedented in our lifetime. Everything is shut, malls, coffee shops, restaurants, economy and yes, even your friendly neighbourhood cigarette shop. There are people who lived their lives on instagram, with daily posts of the sun and sand, the hilltops, beautiful oceans, crazy parties and more. These insta-fluencers find themselves shutdown. 2020 has not been a good year for anybody, least of all those who depended on these outdoor vistas for their likes and livelihood. It has been a hell of a year for those who were planning on getting married, buying a house, a new car, going abroad for a vacation, hell just joining a gym as part of the guilt ridden new year resolution they thought they would adhere to for a month or two before allowing the guilt to fade and be replaced by their forever constant slovenliness that they remain in denial of. I, myself had grand plans to go on a motorcycle trip for 10 days, exploring the beautiful nation that is India. Now, I could lie and blame corona for not getting around to it this year, but truth be told, I have been putting it off since the beginning of 2019. Which brings us back to the fact that life is short, eat dessert first!
There are people who are keyboard warriors and spew venom, angst, frustration and vent against all things Chinese. And I do not blame them. But then there are those that see that this kind of situation separates the men from the boys, and it has certainly done so with regards to the Indian leadership. Our Prime Minister, a 69 year old right wing nationalist who leads our country did the single most inspiring thing any head of state could. He made a surprise visit to the top of our country, Ladakh, a place that is well known to all motorcyclists as it is on all our bucket lists. This little Union Territory is 11000 feet above sea level, and all of us know that at those altitudes changing a car tyre, or even laughing very hard is a feat that only the superhuman amongst us can achieve with ease. And yet, this 69 year old, thumbing his nose at AMS, pooh poohing the entire acclimatisation directive that forces those of us that are young, flew into Ladakh, address the Indian Armed Forces, spent 7 hours walking around, nay strutting like a lion, roaring into the microphones and putting down speeches that were akin to those made by Mel Gibson in Braveheart on the battlefield. For that, and for many other reasons, I remain in awe of this stellar gentleman. For, I know close friends and family who on reaching those altitudes had to take the aid of medication and sleep for a few days just to be able to function the next day.
So what is China upto, when they are being cornered by the civilised world for exporting this virus, for laying waste to our indigenous manufacturing industries, and still brazenly having border conflicts with all of their neighbours? Perhaps, we should ask the WHO. They seem to have a relationship that is more than that of a donor to their charity. I will not speculate on China's intent. All I know is that their intent does not serve my countries interests, and is expansionist and something that the world does not need today of all days. So, I will allow Arnab Goswami to take them on, night after night, his vocal chords blasting decibels of aggressive intent towards their actions and intentions. Maybe they will see the light and do the right thing (which ironically could be them not doing anything more).
For now though, this virus makes me think of a poem by the late great William Blake, The Tyger, and specifically one line in his poem:
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?
Friday, July 3, 2020
Lockdown diaries- Thane a suburb of Mumbai, the city of dreams
Welcome to this blog. As my preamble has suggested, this blog will be infrequently updated with posts about motorcycles, life and the myriad thoughts that occur to me. In this particular instance, I write this post amidst the pandemic that is Covid19. A plague that has no known vaccine as yet, and one that has taken its toll on humanity, economy, cashflow, emotions quite like the proverbial storm in a tea cup. The tea cup being, of course, our existence. Before I preach on, for sometimes like the best of men and some women, I too suffer from the hubris of loving hearing myself speak, let me get back to the point. Here, I attempt to outline the routine of a regular, middle class, educated, some might say comfortable, married man.
I start my day early, 6 am to be precise. This is not the outcome of any blaring alarm clock that pitilessly wakens the dead each morning, it is an unfortunate consequence of having a body clock that does not permit me to stay in bed beyond this hour. My wife, on the other hand, having no such limitation imposed on herself, enjoys the pleasures of the pillow for a few more hours, a fact that endlessly amazes me, and paints me green, with envy. So awaken I must, before most humans, and the first thing any self-respecting human of South Indian origin must do, is prepare filter coffee, and I abide by this stereotype myself, religiously. The right combination of coffee powder, sourced from the right manufacturer whose judicious coffee to chickory ratio tends to please the senses, lay waste to the cobwebs of an early morning brain-fog is an experience that delights me ridiculously. Well, as they say, coffee or rather caffeine is the most socially acceptable drug of choice for humanity, and I, myself, am rather enjoying my addiction. So coffee being drunk, now the stupor of an entire night (4-5 hours) having been left behind, I tend to put on my householder hat, and begin my chores. Already the previous night, we have washed the clothes in the washing machine, and there they wait for me, to be hung on the line, to dry, to be worn again post morning ablutions, to continue their cyclical existence of going from fresh laundry to soiled, only to meet the machine again that night to be cleansed of the day's soiling. Not that they are soiled much these days, what with the lockdown in place, there is scant probability of them taking on any perspiration, unlike the days when we were all mobile and permitted to venture outdoors, to curse at traffic, to meet fellow office colleagues, to sweat and soil them with gay abandon! Once this chore is complete, I move on to my next and most coveted ritual, the pumping of iron. I possess a pair of dumbells, some rods and plates that while being sufficient to maintain muscle mass and strength levels, more often end up simply inflating my ego. The fact that I can lift these weights often enough, with requisite ease, quite simply makes me feel bigger and stronger than I actually am. That being said, they are useful to maintain one's health and vitality, so I persist. This ritual complete, the clock nearing 9 AM, I then take a shower, scrubbing away at the epidermis, bringing some fresh soapy scent to my otherwise peculiar pheromonal funk, one I might say is not a matter of complaint from the wife at the worst of times.
Now it is time to get to work, yes I am one of the large section of the workforce in the IT industry that have the luxury of being able to work from home. A fact especially useful in these times of lockdown and isolation. Although this very luxury also sometimes means that me and my tribe are never really not working, through the technological innovation (curse) that is the modern day smartphone, we are always reachable, always online and always on-call. My company builds software, so we work long hours at the best of times. This is compounded by the fact that our customers and founders are in North America, lending our work hours to often extend in to their day time, which is far into our zzz hours. But I cannot and do not complain, for I love my job, I am good at it, and it is what I do, not just to make a living, but also to fulfil my aspirations and ambitions. So work begins, goes on for a few hours until it is lunch time. I take a small break for lunch, often a working lunch, which means your laptop and plate of food often argue with each other squabbling for room on the table in front of you. Lunch, thankfully is something my wife prepares, and regularly exceeds herself at.
After lunch, comes even more work, web-meetings, discussions, messaging and a lot of time spent exercising the muscle that is the human brain. While work often continues far into the night with me, I do confess to one guilty pleasure, I watch an Indian news channel debate, the Republic TV debate every night from 9 PM onwards, chaired by this right wing, often belligerent, unapologetically nationalistic anchor, Arnab Goswami. I watch this debate, not because it is my habit to have my fingers on the pulse of what goes on in the nation or in the world. But I do so, more than often, just to watch members of the Left and Right wing in India have at each other, not unlike gladiators in a Roman coliseum. All while the biggest and loudest dog in the yard, Arnab, yells over all of them and engages in chest thumping and acrimonious dialogue that no debate thus far has ever been guilty of promoting. This ends at 10 PM, whereafter I am in work calls usually until midnight. And once the days labours have been completed, I retire to my bed, tired, but satisfied after a day's efforts.
There are those that complain endlessly of the isolation they are subjected to during this lockdown. Their distance from the rest of humanity being an aberration to the regular scheme of things. Their inability to meet people, experience crowds, shake hands, hug their friends, and just go out for a meal with those they are familiar with. I do not suffer from any of the above. I have always held that humanity is overrated. And while I understand the need for having them around as a workforce, I do not pander to any sentimental longing for being a sheep amidst their herd. I, for one, quite like my isolation. I do not miss mingling with the hordes out here. I do not miss cursing at traffic on my way to work from the air-conditioned confines of my car. I certainly do not long for the sweaty crowded elevators that take us to our places of work. I am, for all intents and purposes, a hermit at heart. Forced to live amongst the rest of humanity, suffering all their agonies, all the discomforts they bring, not because I want to, only because I have to, in this inevitably long, unending journey that is my middle class existence.
I start my day early, 6 am to be precise. This is not the outcome of any blaring alarm clock that pitilessly wakens the dead each morning, it is an unfortunate consequence of having a body clock that does not permit me to stay in bed beyond this hour. My wife, on the other hand, having no such limitation imposed on herself, enjoys the pleasures of the pillow for a few more hours, a fact that endlessly amazes me, and paints me green, with envy. So awaken I must, before most humans, and the first thing any self-respecting human of South Indian origin must do, is prepare filter coffee, and I abide by this stereotype myself, religiously. The right combination of coffee powder, sourced from the right manufacturer whose judicious coffee to chickory ratio tends to please the senses, lay waste to the cobwebs of an early morning brain-fog is an experience that delights me ridiculously. Well, as they say, coffee or rather caffeine is the most socially acceptable drug of choice for humanity, and I, myself, am rather enjoying my addiction. So coffee being drunk, now the stupor of an entire night (4-5 hours) having been left behind, I tend to put on my householder hat, and begin my chores. Already the previous night, we have washed the clothes in the washing machine, and there they wait for me, to be hung on the line, to dry, to be worn again post morning ablutions, to continue their cyclical existence of going from fresh laundry to soiled, only to meet the machine again that night to be cleansed of the day's soiling. Not that they are soiled much these days, what with the lockdown in place, there is scant probability of them taking on any perspiration, unlike the days when we were all mobile and permitted to venture outdoors, to curse at traffic, to meet fellow office colleagues, to sweat and soil them with gay abandon! Once this chore is complete, I move on to my next and most coveted ritual, the pumping of iron. I possess a pair of dumbells, some rods and plates that while being sufficient to maintain muscle mass and strength levels, more often end up simply inflating my ego. The fact that I can lift these weights often enough, with requisite ease, quite simply makes me feel bigger and stronger than I actually am. That being said, they are useful to maintain one's health and vitality, so I persist. This ritual complete, the clock nearing 9 AM, I then take a shower, scrubbing away at the epidermis, bringing some fresh soapy scent to my otherwise peculiar pheromonal funk, one I might say is not a matter of complaint from the wife at the worst of times.
Now it is time to get to work, yes I am one of the large section of the workforce in the IT industry that have the luxury of being able to work from home. A fact especially useful in these times of lockdown and isolation. Although this very luxury also sometimes means that me and my tribe are never really not working, through the technological innovation (curse) that is the modern day smartphone, we are always reachable, always online and always on-call. My company builds software, so we work long hours at the best of times. This is compounded by the fact that our customers and founders are in North America, lending our work hours to often extend in to their day time, which is far into our zzz hours. But I cannot and do not complain, for I love my job, I am good at it, and it is what I do, not just to make a living, but also to fulfil my aspirations and ambitions. So work begins, goes on for a few hours until it is lunch time. I take a small break for lunch, often a working lunch, which means your laptop and plate of food often argue with each other squabbling for room on the table in front of you. Lunch, thankfully is something my wife prepares, and regularly exceeds herself at.
After lunch, comes even more work, web-meetings, discussions, messaging and a lot of time spent exercising the muscle that is the human brain. While work often continues far into the night with me, I do confess to one guilty pleasure, I watch an Indian news channel debate, the Republic TV debate every night from 9 PM onwards, chaired by this right wing, often belligerent, unapologetically nationalistic anchor, Arnab Goswami. I watch this debate, not because it is my habit to have my fingers on the pulse of what goes on in the nation or in the world. But I do so, more than often, just to watch members of the Left and Right wing in India have at each other, not unlike gladiators in a Roman coliseum. All while the biggest and loudest dog in the yard, Arnab, yells over all of them and engages in chest thumping and acrimonious dialogue that no debate thus far has ever been guilty of promoting. This ends at 10 PM, whereafter I am in work calls usually until midnight. And once the days labours have been completed, I retire to my bed, tired, but satisfied after a day's efforts.
There are those that complain endlessly of the isolation they are subjected to during this lockdown. Their distance from the rest of humanity being an aberration to the regular scheme of things. Their inability to meet people, experience crowds, shake hands, hug their friends, and just go out for a meal with those they are familiar with. I do not suffer from any of the above. I have always held that humanity is overrated. And while I understand the need for having them around as a workforce, I do not pander to any sentimental longing for being a sheep amidst their herd. I, for one, quite like my isolation. I do not miss mingling with the hordes out here. I do not miss cursing at traffic on my way to work from the air-conditioned confines of my car. I certainly do not long for the sweaty crowded elevators that take us to our places of work. I am, for all intents and purposes, a hermit at heart. Forced to live amongst the rest of humanity, suffering all their agonies, all the discomforts they bring, not because I want to, only because I have to, in this inevitably long, unending journey that is my middle class existence.
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