Pieces of the Puzzle

The latest phenomenon which seems to have plagued Bombay, Delhi, Madras and is slowly spreading to Calcutta and Bangalore is NOT venture capitalism. Blogmeets are becoming more fashionable than JLo’s butt. If you don’t have a post on a Blogmeet and if your photos aren’t floating around yet, you had better start serving chai in a Barista or sundal in Besant Nagar beach.

Equally in vogue is Blog Retreat. Claiming that you are leaving Blogdom for good. Give an extensive rant on how someone tortured you to stop blogging. Leave the comment section open for people to beg for your return. Deny them the pleasure of your posts for a whole day. And then voila! You are back to the cheering fans. (Who else, but I, would know these inside details)

Oh yes, Blog romance is at an all time high. Previously the trend was like this- A blogger forces his/her reluctant other half to start blogging. That’s the way the connection was formed and love reinforced. But now, life is much easier when a blogger hooks up with one another. An easy three hour conversation is taken care of. An easy 300 posts are taken care of.... with hyperlinks.

Just as Blog meets have rocked the desi metropolitans, guest blogging has created ripples among thinking bloggers. It has been around and is trendy even now. I need to have my own. I don’t have access to cool pictures. So mine will be slightly different from this one (my inspiration).

Here are my cool captions.

1. Cow on fire

2. George on fire

Send me some good photos you think might accompany these lines. I’ll be asking Laloo of Bihar to judge the entries, and as usual (?) the ‘prize’ is the option to tattoo my name "Alpha" on your tongue (in Chinese).

I feel bad. Thanks to the various Blogger’s Meet, I have seen most of the bloggers I have wanted to see. But I have not shared my pictures with them. I hope Yogu, Patrix and Star don’t mind me sharing with you all, this photo of the Chicago Meet.

That day we were not allowed inside the living room. The elders were watching a scary movie. My mom thought she had frightened the shit out of me and my cousin Omega by saying, 'When the hero opens the tap, blood starts flowing from the bathroom to the living room. You kids shouldn't be watching this."

We were indignant. No body in the right mind should call us kids! We were almost teenagers! Few years give or take; we would be tackling world issues. Like.. hmm... yelling at kids and telling them how harmful TV watching could be. The issue at hand- We wanted to see what they were seeing. Who is afraid of blood on TV anyway? bah!

I had a brilliant idea. Omega thought it was risky, but she was a valiant kid like me. We clogged the toilet with towels and paper. Then we loudly knocked the door of the living room to be let into the other bathroom, which was directly connected to that room. It worked. My mom and dad let their guard down to inspect the flooded bathroom. My uncle and aunty were busy watching the movie to notice anything. We sneaked in and glanced at the TV. Holy Guacamole!!!

Instead of blood, we were confronted by flesh! We were horrified… not out of horror. Semi-naked women on screen! They were in a bowling alley removing clothes one by one!!! Man o Man! This was not scary one bit! Omega was making her way reluctantly to the bathroom and I was crouching behind the couch quite enthralled by what I was watching. This is why they didn’t want us around.. *hehehe* What the heck are my parents watching? Are my parents weird?

Before I could answer my questions, my mom sent us scooting from the room almost blushing. She wanted to scold us for doing what we did to the toilet, but she thought better of it. So we got back to our world quite flustered and shocked. We avoided the topic for 10 minutes and then swore to uncover that cassette and watch it one day. Intrigued would be an understatement. We couldn’t be happier when our parents asked us to stay at home while they were out for a few hours. Aha! The minute we heard the last of the car's din, we made a rush to the TV cabinet. We scanned every inch. We were ready to give up when Omega checked inside the VCR. We almost fainted in ecstasy. How very careless of them!

So we hurriedly watched bits and pieces of "Screw Balls", an adult movie on crazy college kids. We kept looking out of the window for the car. Out of guilt and greed, we'd fast forward and stop at interesting scenes. After carefully rewinding back to where it was originally left, we would start playing Monopoly innocently. Then we'd slowly glance at each other again, give a sly look and run back to see some more scenes we missed. It was the most daring movie I had ever seen. So this is what happens in American colleges? chi chi! Wait! Rewind for a bit... pause! *grin*

Last time we met in Chicago, Omega and I rented ‘Screw Balls’ and watched it completely without fast forwarding. For old times & curiosity’s sake. We still had to know the actual story. Some of the scenes were vividly etched in our memory, but the effect wasn't as glorious as it was 15 years ago.

Lessons learnt- 

Charge
Buy a corded phone
Don't misplace cell phone
Go in person to meetings when above three lessons cannot be learnt.
                                             

I knew I was around weird people. But how weird, you can't fathom.

Star replies to junk mail. To quote her-

"I actually replied to one of the Nigerian Bank Account emails and asked the guy what the point of doing it was since everyone seemed to know it was a scam and I also asked him if people actually fell for it.

He replied and told me not to waste his time. I found that ironic ... me wasting his time ... when in actuality that is what they do to us; waste our time ... I sometimes reply to the porn emails too, telling them to repent, all that porn is bound to make them go blind ... etc..etc "

Pi converses with telemarketers. He spent an hour one day explaining why there was no use signing up for the deal when he already had a decent arrangement going on. He went on to explain the nature of his present contract and patiently gave pointers to improve their deal. Even asked the 'by-now distraught' fellow to call back in case of doubts and future inquiries.

In two weeks, our phone number was black-listed among the telemarketers. We didn’t even have to subscribe to fancy sites to avoid their annoying calls. If the telemarketers of the world ever unite, I bet Pi would be a hot topic.

My mom gets all starry eyed, weak-kneed, gooey-hearted, light-headed when she sights any sort of celebrity. They could be side-actors, extras or furniture. As long as they were featured in television, they have her full attention. Just like crows detect dead rat, she can sense a film-star 3 miles away.

One such time we were going to Banglore on Jet Airways. She spotted Ramesh, a south Indian movie actor. She couldn’t sit in peace. She was so thrilled to be breathing the same air-conditioned air as he. Frankly, I had no clue who he was when she excitedly pointed out the dude. He looked like my classmate’s older brother actually. Gimme a Kamal or an Amitabh, I might sit up and take notice. No, on second thoughts, my mom might have fainted in that case. Back to Ramesh- Finally she could take it no more, she walked up to him and requested his co-passenger to sit next to my dad. She plopped herself giddily next to this guy much to our mortification and got his autograph in the back of her ‘bindi’ packet. Then for the large part of the journey she spoke to him, inquired about his kids, his wife and had the time of her life. Her day was made.

We used to be neighbors to this producer (not by design), so my mom usually had her fill of crazy actors frequenting his house. Mostly unheard-of characters. One day, she spotted Mohan Gokhale of ‘Mr.Yogi’ fame shooting for a tele-serial. Mr.Yogi was just taking a break after a particular shot, when my mom hysterically ran out of the house, accosted him and gushed about how much she loved watching Mr. Yogi. Even I had enjoyed watching him play the 'Amrika-return chap' desperately looking for a bride. But I doubt if I would have freaked out like that.

My mom forced him to come home for coffee. He was so taken by her gesture that he immediately accepted the invite. He had apparently been around for a week and no one recognized him in Madras. I could almost see him brimming with joy. He came home, chatted with us, drank coffee while my mom played the insane fan part very well. She couldn’t drink without shaking her cup, called me her younger sister, tried to pull out dialogues from his serial and playfully chided "Don’t call me aunty, Yogi!". Whatever ma, you made him beam so much, I thought he would ask the Producer to give you a part as his heroine.

Mr. Yogi was a very friendly and charming guy. The day we heard of his demise, we were deeply saddened. Every time I see his autograph in our house, I cant help but pray for his soul.

I am at work on a Sunday morning. That’ll explain my plight. To narrate certain recent incidents, I'll be as cryptic as possible so as to not get into trouble. If this super-coded language reaches wrong hands and gets deciphered, I hope you'll remember me as a martyr and build a marble blog in my memory.

Uparwali (sternly): Alpha, I think the method you used to find the ‘xxx rates’ is not correct.

Me (meekly): I feel that’s how you should calculate the xxx rates. But I get your point too, I will reconsider and change them. (akhir boss kaun hai)

Uparwali (hitting the roof): What?!! Don’t you have conviction for anything you do? If you use a certain method, aren’t you supposed to explain it well and talk me into accepting your method. How will you make progress at this rate? And you have been working here for 3 and a half years, you should be confident by now!!

Same Uparwali (sternly): Alpha, I think the method you used to draw these ‘yyy sections’ is not right.

Me (with newfound confidence): Let me explain why I think it is right. When one is going westbound on this interchange….. (hyperventilated explaining with graphs and sketches)…….. Hence I feel my method should be used and the good news is, I have gone ahead and done all the sheets this way. YES! I am that convinced! (waiting for a standing ovation)

Ups (hitting the roof and making a hole in it): Aren’t we making a mountain out of a mole-hill here? You know or I know? 3 and a half years of working here doesn’t give you the audacity to talk to seniors like that.

VR, the HR lady from Bangalore- Please keep my cubicle ready.

I am feeling very Patrixy (full of myself)..esp after he put up that nice post on Why do I Blog. I feel its time to make a big deal about this myself.

I spend my free time (most of the time) googling stuff that catch my fancy. Mostly long lost friends and enemies. I chanced upon this high-school senior’s blog. First reaction- What the heck, he updates this site everyday. This dude has too much time in his hands. To his credit, he doesn’t even write huge posts like me- mostly cut & paste stuff from news sites. I checked out his pictures (he seemed to be eating and doing well). Then I got bored quickly.

After a few months, I went back and checked some his links. Took me straight to Sid’s blog. Now Sid is a smart guy who writes really well. For a guy, he has got a sensitive side which I adored. Smooth and dreamy. I even read his 100 things. I was hooked till Tan & work took over (Just because you see a hyperlinked Tan, its doesn’t mean that this is Sid’s blog). Wishing them all the very best, I went to Gorgeous. With a name like that, I was bound to be intrigued. G kept me entertained for the longest time. I checked all her archives, spent much of my productive time doing that. She writes with a soul and an attitude. You could almost feel her yelling at you. You grew to like Nobody and hate her brother’s wife (God Bless Her). I miss that Gorgeous now. My only hope is that she is churning out that novel.

After four months of reading and jumping from link to link, I decided to take a shot at it. I had no clue where and how to begin. I knew I wanted to write too. I wanted to spare my poor friends who were getting inflicted with my long emails. It got to a point where people went, "Oh my god! Do I have to read this now? This is too long. I hope Alpha doesn’t go anywhere. She will surely send us that dreaded travelogue."

I could write stuff and store them in my hard-drive in a folder called Alpha’s Gibberish. But I wanted some feedback too. Blogging seemed to be a great medium to unleash that verbal diarrhea. Because I chose to be anonymous, no one would even feel compelled to read my blog. (Owing to the random crap I write, I’m better off being anonymous). Only people who like to read this will do so.

So far, so good. Its quite addictive and I am working on that part. But I love doing this. I have written to my heart’s content, came across like-minded people, made great friends, read awesome stuff, won an award, got a page dedicated to my blog, got good comments to all my posts.

All this might fade away one day. I might get bored of posting. You might get bored of reading. But I will enjoy it while it lasts.

Finally, the Vote of Thanks. I was supposed to do this when I got the Most Humorous Indiblog Award. But since I didn’t get that fancy plaque, I was quite upset and peeved about the whole affair that I started drinking excessively and forgot all about it. But hey, Thanks for voting! Here’s the long pending list-

Fillerman who always thought I had potential in the writing arena. Fillu, you made me delusional.

People who stuck by me from the very beginning-  Pleo, AmitL, Wandy, Heretic (He's dead for a while, he better be working on a novel too), Jill, Ranjan, Gorgy, Nobody. Were my threats that bad?

People who came later and are still around- You guys know who you are and that you rock.

People who aren’t bloggers & have dared to comment- Vinod, VG, Maya, Veena, Chinmay, Vamsi, Prasad, memory loss. You are so altruistic.

Special mention to my darling Parmanu, who I thought was a cyber-stalker/psycho to have started a blog in my name. After exchanging many mails, I still think he is eccentric. He has decided to stop updating 1/alpha and concentrate on wooing me with his epic mails. It was working fine till I realized that he was trying hard to get his wife jealous. That, apparently is not working.

A simple thanks is not enough for Pi for putting up with this and maybe a whole lot more. I'll maybe buy him another football jersey. Or cook Payasam. Just the jersey would be fine.

THANKS TO YOU ALL! Like I have maintained, Your sense of humor makes me want to write more.

There! I was in a senti mood. What if I die tomorrow and leave this job unfinished. This year I am aiming to win the Most Senti Indiblog.

If you don’t see me around for a while (like a couple of days), its not because I died.. but coz I might be busy. Aiyoo! why are my posts this long??! I don't even have the patience to go back and proof read them.

Past few weekends, we were invited by three different people for lunch/dinner. 

Invite 1: From a friend whose parents were visiting from India.

Invite 2: From a friend who had a baby recently.

Invite 3: From my cousin who lives here with his family.

Grudgingly, we accept out of social obligation. We were later to find, food was the positive but not the only common aspect.

House 1: Namaskars in order, we proceed with comparison between Chicago and Chennai. Hot and Cold. Fun and Boring. Costly and Cheap. Fast and Slow. Conversations flow from aunty to uncle on totally different topics. I am amazed at my skills in keeping both of them engaged. Suddenly uncle drops the bomb. ‘Daughter, let Alpha and Pi watch your Master's defense & graduation tape. Put it on na!’

"Uncle! You DID NOT record her Defense!??" I ask unbelievingly hopeful. "Oh yes ma! I flew all the way to Nebraska to watch this. Also took permission from her professor to record the whole thing. My girl was so good that ....blah blah blah". Gulp! Do we really have to sit through this. There was no escaping. So we spend another dull hour staring at the TV while my friend confidently tackles her professors. Uncle was ebbing with enthusiasm and kept showering praises on his dear daughter who was slowly becoming my foe. By the end of it (after dispersed aahs and wows), I had more knowledge of her thesis and could have defended it, if need be. What was my own Thesis topic again?

House 2: 'Ooohh! Coootchie Cootchie! So cute! She looks like you! No actually, she looks like your hubby. Can I still call her cute, in that case?' (In reality, I can’t freaking tell who babies resemble) But I play along for a while. 'The eyes are definitely yours, but the ear lobes….' The dad and mom are obviously smitten by the little kitten. The parent’s fond eyes, their sudden reaction to every little noise…I’m in a different world. I was enjoying this whole display of alien emotions till the dad said he had something very cute to show me. I could almost feel my head reeling when he put in a video cassette. I cant tell you how long this ordeal went on, but I know my soul left my body to have a cold shower. I could see the real baby in front of my eyes and in the reel baby on BIG screen. It was doing the same thing.. lying down! The dad had recorded 2 hours of the baby’s lying down scene! The dad gleefully points out, "Look look, the baby stirred!!!" choochweet!  Another allergic substance added to my list- Babies.

House 3: Older cousin. Almost uncle types. Hug and show immense pleasure on meeting them. ‘Oh My God! How tall Nephew has grown!' I almost feel like those elders I bitched about when I was young and growing. We talk about their redone basement, snow blower, kid's education system, on Pi’s never ending Phd. Interesting conversation to say the least. I can see nothing wrong happening here till the proud father gets all misty eyed,’ You must listen to my son playing the violin.'  Am I hearing this right? This can't be happening to me! God Help me! I need some glucose to get through this one. I am now helplessly waiting for the cassette to appear from nowhere. But this gets even better. "Sonny, go get your instrument and play that Vivaldi piece for Alpha aunty and Pi uncle.’ A 16 year old calling me aunty, I could still take.. but a violin recital when I am dying of hunger?! I am not too sure! Though I have very little knowledge of music in general, I was able to appreciate most of it…till it went on for a while that I was scared we may not get food if I don’t keep encouraging him. "More more! Er..Cuz, is there a remote possibility that Nephew could be hungry and tired?"

I have resolved to record the expression on our guests' faces while we showcase our future kid’s talent- of eating. The kid eats in the video for 3 hours while the guests wait to be served dinner. If that doesnt kill them, even my food won't.

As a teenager, I used to dread New Years Eve. Not because it was the beginning of a new uncertain year that would bring false hopes and shattered dreams. No, I wasn’t that deep. It was time for my dad’s office party! After a lot of whining and protesting, me and my brother would be whisked away to the get-together. On the way even our driver could note the aura in the car, ‘Saab will always make sure the rest of the world thinks this is a close knit family’.

At the party, fat uncles and even fatter aunties would accost us with the same observation every year, ‘Look how tall they have grown!’ Using hand gestures to indicate our growth graph. Like we were some Ashoka trees they planted in their garden. My mom would beam proudly. Year after year she had the same dialogue. ‘I feel like a valley standing between these kids. Nobody refers to them as tall, they think I am short. hehe!’

Obviously there was no one of my age group. Their fathers had been kind enough to let them spend New years eve with their friends. So I had to suffice staring at the food or bitching about the whole deal to my brother. Till they start with the games, then I positively feel like choking on some of the decoration. The organizers (a bunch of bored people) would debate on which category to place me in spite of my objections to even participate. Kids or Ladies? I guess the kids were too tiny. So there, I was running with the women-folk clenching a spoon between my teeth with a lemon on it. I won! That was exhilaratingly awkward.

‘Passing the Parcel’ took the cake. Thanks to my dad's desire to hog the limelight, we were spared. He would hold on to the parcel long enough till the music stopped. He'd have bribed the organizer before hand. So whichever folded piece of paper he picked up, he ended up having to do a Bhrathanatyam dance. The history behind this is, my dad loved the audience reaction to his enthusiastic performance which had been practiced to perfection at home. More than that, he loved embarrassing us. I must admit, his dance steps and the serious expressions on his countenance sure made everyone laugh. Year after year, from the time I can remember. Luckily we moved cities often and hence rest of the folks didn’t have to watch this rendition again.

When things were just reaching the brim, when I could take it no more, my eyes roved and lingered on this handsome creature. Oh well, I guess this night might not be that boring after all. I make my way and strike a conversation with Abhijit. A management trainee from BITS, Pilani. Lot of laughing and blushing followed. I was enjoying this party.

3…2…1…..YAY!!!!!!!!! HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

Next year around, I was more than willing to join my dad and mom for New years eve. Got dressed up without a fuss. Extra make-up. Yelled at my brother for taking so much time. This time I will have to remember to get hold of Abi’s phone number.

Fat men and fatter women accost us. "Oooohh, How tall…." My eyes wander off. Searching high and low. No trace. I can almost feel the other young men trying to avoid me like plague. Confused, I finally make small-talk with a bakra. Ask him if he knew Abhijit and why he wasn’t around. He looks distraught.

‘Poor Abhijit, your father transferred him off to Assam. Er.. If you don’t mind, I need to excuse myself.’