Hyderabad

I have come down to Hyderabad for a training program. This is a royal city in India. The place is built around the Hussain Sagar lake. the roads are broad and choking to the brim with unruly traffic. A simple drive can turn into an adventure of sorts. Of course the Hyderabadis are the politest people. First they will almost run their two wheeler into your car. Stop a few millimeters short. Smile ever so politely. Ask you to proceed and then overtake you from the wrong side! Being a visitor to the city, I dont want my car to run over anyone and let the cops have a field day. So I tell the driver to slow down - which is an affront to our Hyderabadi driver!
Anyway, the city is beautiful. I visited the Salar Jung Museum whic is full of artifacts collected by the erstwhile Nizam of Hyderabad on his sojourns throughout the world. and no, the collection doesn't include his wives. But there was a heavily guarded display of Nizam's jewels.
The Charminar is a classic example of the locational mistake. It is in a heavily congested area. There is a mosque abutting one of the pillars of the monument - and a brand new temple abutting the opposite pillar. Perhaps to maintain communal harmony?
There was a long queue outside the temple. A well-fed priest was attending to them at a fairly good pace.
Another place is the Lumbini Garden where many hyderabadis take the usual walk. It is full of trees. But upto a height of 8 feet the branches have been cleared and you can look thru the entire area at a glance. This of course precules any behind the bush activities which are so common in delhi's Nehru park - popularly called buddha garden. This is all the better as no one would want to give the senior citizens visiting lumbini garden a heart attack.
The raj bhavan is very dignified. There is a birla temple on the hillock.

Bush and the grope

The papers and the TV are full of the massage bush gave to angela merkel. My sympathies lie with the lady. I mean who would want a shoulder rub in the middle of a meeting? I have always found the americans to be friendly, unlike their cousins across the atlantic. But a shoulder rub or "grope" as the more conservative people put it, is definitely not on.
I kinda like Bush. Notwithstanding the countless number of jokes on him, the fellow is likeable in his own way- like a chimp. His bumblings have gained fame. So also the rumors that he has telepathic contact with G~d, who is guiding him in the wars. But then, you have to really hand it to the guy for keeping us entertained. Which other leader gives so much fodder for the cannons?
I wonder what Maggie would have done if she was in place of angela? maybe an elbow in his crotch? or catch his hands and somersault him onto the table? And what about the Queen of Togo...
It is said that the Queen of Togo was accompanied in the carriage by a frail gentleman. Someone in the audience asked Bernard Shaw the identity of the gentleman. "Her lunch" said he.
Imagine our good bush with her. Even though Texans have a penchant for large things, bush would have left her well alone!
This brings me back to my school days. It was our annual day, in school. I was in Class II. The teacher was wrapping a red ribbon on our wrists for the PT drill. The ribbon was held by an alpin. When my turn came she said "I'm going to put the pin now. If it pricks even slightly, just scream." And that's what I did. SCREAMED! at the top of my voice. The teacher was so startled, and embarrassed also, that she got up and went away, cheeks flaming.
I wonder what would have happened had angela screamed at the top of her lungs?

Sex and the Britisher II

I had written a nice blog about a british teacher in my school. The point was that school kids are vulnerable at the hands of their teachers. The brit in question used to target young boys and was thrown out of several schools. The school managements never initiated any action against him for fear of bringing disrepute to the school. I wonder how many kids he was able to lay his filthy hands on and get away with it? Today I find that the blog is not there at all! I wonder if some brit took offense and hacked into it? If that is the case shame on google and the free speech and security it preaches!

The mosquito

Well, I had last narrated a little bit about my "girlfriend". She was not the most beautiful person you have seen but the lack of good looks was more than made up by her effervescent nature. She would carry me around, sometimes on her hip and piggyback at other times. Her family members were not very happy to spot us together but thought it better to ignore both of us rather than risk the consequences of parting her from me-I could bawl the loudest and pitching stones was an art I mastered at an early age.
Actually, I was drawn to her because she was the only one who could insulate me from my landlady's granddaughter. This scrawny little girl- I happenned to meet her recently after a gap of thirty years and she is the still the ugly duckling who never grew up- was a pest. She was about the same age as I and would find new ways to torment me everyday. If I were to get the better of her, she would complain to her granny who would then yell at my mother to correct my behaviour. I remember once in an unprovoked act of vengence I quietly dipped her shoes in the sludge of the open sewage pipe running outside our house. She got to know of this only when she put her white sock clad toe into the shoe and there was a squelching sound- a silence-and then an earth shattering scream of cinderella being turned into a tramp on trying on a shoe. The landlady was very annoyed and gave a piece of mind to my mother who promptly locked me in the bedroom. I was released from my imprisonment about an hour later when my mother noticed that the radio placed in the bedroom (there was no TV in those days) was suddenly blaring a trifle too loudly for comfort. That was the day my mother came the closest to tanning my hide. Of course, I have seen the same expression fleetingly on the face of other people who have come in contact with me over the years.
Anyway, my "girlfriend" would always be around to defuse the situation and take me away to her house. Most of the time we would plot revenge on the "mosquito". Soon we shifted to a new house and the memories of the "girlfriend" and the "mosquito" became just that- memories.

My girlfriend

Hi,
This is my first effort at posting a blog. For those of you who have all the time in the world, this blog will read like Gulliver's Travels and Marco Polo chronicles rolled into one. For others, this is one of those strange places that you wander into inadvertently, and wish you hadn't!
Anyway, let me begin with a story. People always like stories-especially wicked ones. But being G~d fearing fellow, catering to a wide expanse of conservative masses, I shall desisit from any kind of salacious stuff. So all those who have wandered in here in search of "juicy" bits - out. That means OUT.
This story is about a guy who grows up in a small town in the back of beyond. His travails may bore the city bred types and leave the village based bumpkins red-faced- because the truth is out. I dont mean to be malicious - it is second nature to me and will reflect in my writings from time to time. Some people will find their reflections here. Others will get a feeling that they know the person being discussed. But I will not name any names and there will be no prizes for guessing.
Enough of the prologue for now. Let us begin on the journey.
Shortly after my wedding, my wife asked - "Did you have a girlfriend?" I don't know what prompted her to ask. Maybe all women ask this question-perhaps to ascertain the benchmark that they are competing against. "Yes" I said. "Really? And how deep was this friendship?" Her eyes had narrowed down to slits and she looked like a boxer aiming the "sunday punch". "I was absolutely crazy about her.We were the talk of the colony. Had it not been for our age difference, we would perhaps have married" By now she was getting visions of a lolita like affair. " and just how much was this age diference?". "I was three and she was twentythree". The wind went out of the sails of the armada. My better half retired in a huff. Maybe she doesnt like cannonball jokes which fall so close to all that she holds dear.But as any married person will tell you, the cannons keep pointing at you even after the bugles declare truce.
This brings me to the the first "girl" in my life.