Friday, February 22, 2013

Jaipur

Well I remember I've said I'll not post a rant. But this is an article I've promised many people. So here goes. 

Well it all started with our move to Jaipur in August the year before last. Quaint little town. Tiny little empty airport. Welcome break from Mumbai, I think to myself. So I collect our bags and head out. We are instantly the object of numerous stares. Not the fleeting glance of a Mumbai passerby. Not the nosey sideways glance of the disapproving Punekar. Not the lingering glance of the curious Punjabi. Two points of difference, the people in the mentioned examples go on with their lives whilst stealing glances, and they acknowledge your right to privacy by looking away when they notice you've noticed. Not in Jaipur. People drop their chores. Fold their hands. And stare. Not check out, not glance, but stare. And what I'd done to deserve their undivided attention, was that I was wearing a ponytail and shorts. And my wife, well she's a woman. That seems to be enough for people to drop every thing they're doing and stare, and continue to stare.

The drive to the hotel from the airport is uneventful. So we notice the roads. Wide and clean. Sparsely populated with cars. But the cars ensure they zigzag enough to occupy the entire road. Leaving place of course for the nut jobs driving down the wrong side in the fast lane.  They seemed to all have been taught by the same teacher - speed all you can, and brake just in time to avoid hitting the car in front of you. Come potholes or speed breakers, slowing down is for suckers, and traffic rules are for losers. I've seen a total of 10 traffic police men in 9 months, and 6 of them were standing together... So a total of 5 occasions. In 9 months. Without a single day spent completely at home.

I'll skip over the hotel stay period and move straight to the house. 

The broker was the first example of the service industry we came across. Once the cat is in the bag, suddenly time loses meaning. 10 minutes could mean any thing from 3 to 24 hours depending on the 'direness' of the consequences of tardiness I promise over the phone. This rule extends to every service, plumbers, electricians, carpenters, taxis etc. save the notable exceptions of the bsnl people and the lpg agent. Weird. Moving on to the settled life. The water is this odd toxic waste which makes you want to throw up unless its chilled below 4 degrees. We haven't grown used to it in 18 months. Also the water neither washes soap nor conditioner off your body or hair.

The house numbers seem to have been marked by someone on an acid trip. Haphazard would be an understatement. It takes me 10 minutes everyday without exception to explain the location of my house to my cab driver. And finding the houses of the other people to be picked up never gets any easier.
The houses themselves are built with an fsi of about 4.5. The architecture , with a few exceptions, is like the person bought a plot of land, built a wall around it, and threw in all the bricks and cement, hoping for the best. Why pay an architect? We can manage. The result is the worst optimization of space I've seen in my life. The houses all have 2 walls common with neighbors on either side. I shudder to think what would happen in case of fire, and how easy it would be for a burglar to get around house to house via the connected terraces.

Come weekend, the first two can be spent handicraft shopping. Then what ? There are a total of two malls worth the name, and unless you're a foodie, there is nothing to do in this so called city. And if you are a foodie there is nothing to do two weeks after you get here.

I realized its a rich, cash driven city, not because I saw any sign of opulence, but because the shops are open and shopping goes on in spite of  all the 7 atms in the vicinity being either out of order or cash. And this was not a one time occurrence.

Jaipur was the first time I had to bag my own groceries at a super market. I was in shock. And the bag was a carton. Here in Jaipur, the ban on plastics is just another way to make a quick buck.

The liquor stores close at 8. What? Seriously? I can never ever find a store open on  a  weekday cause I get off work at 8 30. Who drinks before 8 on a weekday?

Try and get into an auto rickshaw without getting swindled. Not happening. The meter is a mere ornament. All fares are negotiated. On whim. 10 km might cost you a hundred, and 11 might cost fifty more. Night fares apply as soon as the sun goes down. True cave men these.

What can I say about the doctors. 4 different places including fortis hospital, the case history is a formality. They make one, but never look at it again. I believe any decision made with an inadequate case history is questionable at best. You may argue that Jaipur is pretty hale and hearty, I say no thanks to the doctors.

While one would come across the odd misspelled board on a shop in Mumbai, its almost the rule here.  

The 'pink' in the pink city is mostly a dirty orange. And it is pretty wide spread. Why a flyover, for example , needs to be that hideous colour is beyond me..

All said and done, its a nice quaint little hole, good maybe for a 3 day visit if you're staying in one of the claimed 5 star properties. Any longer and it just plain sucks.

Friday, February 8, 2013

Little pink line

My life's work it seems is just a number on my screen.

A rather pleasureless result, this lonely little pile of green.

Forever running like a poor hamster stuck within it's wheel.

I can't understand why they say nothing's what it may seem

Work refuses to leave my head though I called it a day.

Happiness forever gone to sleep no matter what I say

The music is gone the painting is dead
The poetry is no more

The pointlessness of the whole charade  makes my head want to explode

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Every dream I ever dreamed seems cursed to mean nothing anymore

Every single breath I take feels like a very expensive loan

I sigh and grieve as I look at the house that could never be a home

Alcohol's once heavenly stupor holds less charm evermore

The desire to stay this course gets weaker by the day

The faint light at the end of the tunnel seems to fade further away

And for some weird but pertinent reason, I don't even care.

The laughs are hollow the smiles are fake even the tears aren't genuine anymore

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Against all odds the littlest thing
Brings joy back to the day
A little pink line on a plastic strip
Just takes my breath away

Chorus

It's real funny how happiness
Always hides in plain sight
And all it takes
Is an accident or a happy eye.

Thursday, February 7, 2013

Dawn

Something's very wrong.
Something's just not the same.
Trying not to think of it,
Won't make it go away.
It would all be okay,
If i could just for once,
Put my finger on it .

Every one's happy.
Every one is sane.
Every thing is better,
Than i've ever known
It to have been.
Is that it?
Is it all too good?
to be part of my
miserable being?

Life is not a struggle.
I just reach out
And grab what i want.
I have it all,
All the money and fame
Will someone, anyone
Pray tell me
Why it all feels so strange??

A single though
Circumvents my head
"Get out!" it screams.
"get the hell out of here!!"
But another thought
I then notice
Get out, and go where ?
Something's got to give
This dream or my head.

Suddenly it all makes sense.
A dream it is
And i'm not bound in.
Buoyed by this realization
To the surface I float.
Consciousness swiftly
Replacing the cloud in my head.

From one hell to another
I come falling through.
Now i'm pinned down
Stuck fast to my bed.
This beast i can't see
Trying to enter my chest.
I call out to my maker
Struggling to keep control
Lest I lose my body,
my mind or my soul .

As sanity threatens
To desert my mind.
It looks like my soul will go
Somewhere no one can find.
I find my voice
A scream breaks loose.
I'm finally awake.
Breathing in short gasps.
Sweat soaks my hair.

The ordeal is over.
But the fear is not gone.
I wonder why,
Then the truth strikes home
Its cold, its dark and I'm alone
And it's a full nine hours
Untill the break of dawn.