Traffic Jams

There is a lesser known story in the Bible

And God said "Moses, take the children of Israel to safety and you have two options to do that, either take them through Bangalore or attempt the impossible". Moses took one look at the streets of Bangalore and decided that impossible was better so he parted the red sea.
- Exodus 41

Every time I am stuck in a traffic jam, I fervently wish for the power that Moses had. I want to waive my hand and split the traffic in two and zip through the space in between.

Since that power eludes me, I do the next best thing……curse. It gives me great satisfaction shouting obscenities at the world around with the car window rolled up, knowing that they cannot hear me. I admit it does not clear the traffic jam but I am improving my vocabulary big time...and if you have a problem with that, I don't give a hoot, you pontificating ignoramus. See..!!

Traffic jams give me an opportunity to reflect on more meaningful questions of life like "Is this radio jockey as hot as she sounds ?".

I also get a kick out of seeing that the guy in the Mercedes Benz to my left is moving at the speed of a Manmohan Singh speech just like me and his multi cylinder, gazillion horsepower, freakishly expensive car is just as good as my little excuse of a car. But I am not sure why the guy on the bicycle next to me has a wry smile on his face as he looks at me.

Of course, there are other techniques of avoiding frustration during a traffic jam but all of them involve a bazooka mounted on the bonnet.

But remember that the best way to handle a traffic jam is to enjoy it. I do that most when I am looking at one standing from the balcony of my office.

Discovering the talent within

George Bush can now rest in peace for the weapons of mass destruction have finally been found.

And I cooked them.

Now if you can please rub that grin off your face, I can proceed to tell you that in spite of what it sounds like, I am not such a bad cook. Hmmm....on second thoughts, get the grin back on.

Ok, let me narrate why such a state came to pass. I decided to try my hand at cooking this weekend to satisfy my urge to cook something really delicious and also because the nearest restaurant was closed.

My main expertise in the area of cooking is the ability to boil water on the stove. Apparently, that is not good enough for cooking connoisseurs. No, they always want something that is tasty and subtle, they and their arbitrary standards. So I thought, this time along with boiling the water, I would add some lentils and some spices and other things that is technically referred to as ‘stuff’ into it to make ‘Rasam’. Rasam is a South Indian dish that when cooked well is absolutely delicious and goes perfectly with rice. And when cooked badly, it can be used to kill rats.

So with great enthusiasm and self delusion, I went about making ‘Rasam’. The lentils went in first, the spices next, then some salt and tamarind, some cumin, some oil and lots of stupidity. As the concoction boiled, I began to pat myself on a job well done.

Finally, when it was done, put it on my plate with some rice and gingerly placed the food in my mouth.

Ok, why don’t we take a short commercial break at this point? We will be right back…

(Insert favourite commercial here)

Now that you are back, I don’t really have to explain how it turned out. Do I ?

If cooking is an art form, then my cooking is modern art. It gets people to ask themselves complex philosophical questions like “Should I flush this down the toilet or simply hide it under the sofa when nobody is looking”.

But I had to eat. Did I mention the restaurant was closed ?. So I braved on, added some more ‘stuff’ to it to make it more edible and managed to gulp down the food. In the process I learnt that ‘As you cook, so shall you eat’ makes for a good proverb.

But the fact is I did manage to finish up what I cooked and I confess it actually did taste well as I strove along. I guess my cooking is an acquired taste akin to drinking espresso or drinking wine or......eating soap.

So if you want to try my cooking, you are always welcome to my home.

But you have to sit on the floor with the plate because I am not letting you go anywhere near the sofa

The dreaded 'F' word

I have had enough. A couple of weeks ago, a grandmother across the street beat me in walking up to the end of road. That did not bother me much, clearly grandma was on steroids. Following week, a school kid did that too, so ok it hurt a little. But then, a stray puppy out ran me on the streets and that, my dear readers, is simply unacceptable. My first impulse was to take my car out and drive real fast to show the puppy that I was still the boss. Later, after years of denial, it dawned on me that I had the fitness levels of a twig. So I went back to denial mode, it’s a lot more comfortable there. I recommend everybody to try it, it works !!.

But it did not last for long. The puppy kept acting all smug about its superior fitness and would not even wag its tail anymore when it saw me. So I resolved to do something about it, I mean my fitness not the wagging. We have a gym in the office, I decided to give it a shot.

I have always been scared of gyms. It’s because they have pictures of huge people like Arnold (spell his last name yourself), Sylvester Stallone and a whole bunch of other guys who are in their underwear striking weird poses apparently testing how much stress their underwear can take. I always feel they are all looking directly at me as if to say that me even being there is an insult to them. Thankfully, there are no such pictures in my office gym. So I took my chance.

The most important thing about going to the gym is to buy the right track suit. Hey, they have big mirrors in the gym and it is only fair that you look your best, so that you can catch your reflection while you try and pretend to work out.

The instructor told me to start slow as though I had a choice, I liked him right away.

So the first day, I got on the treadmill and ran, ok jogged…oh alright…walked for like 30 minutes. A treadmill is a great reflection on corporate life, the whole idea being that you need to keep running harder and harder to stay where you are. That’s my wisdom for the day to you, free of charge.

Here is another bit of wisdom, apparently the human body has these things called muscles. Muscles are walnut shaped (and sized in some) and help in thinking....no wait, that’s brains. Ok, whatever muscles are gym is supposed to help them stay active, looks like mine were mostly asleep. And boy, do they get nasty when woken up !!. I had a school teacher like that once who would sometimes sleep during the class and anybody who dared to wake her up would get walloped, she taught moral science.

Gym has a strange effect on the unprepared anatomy. After a bunch of workout sessions, you feel a distinct out of body experience. Each of my body part seemed to have declared independence from the rest. My brain kept telling my legs to move and instead my mouth would ask my brain to go to hell. My body was like the Indian parliament, total chaos and no work done. So the next few days, if you heard “Ow....ow....ow” in the corridor, that was me walking and sometimes you would hear “                ” of course, that was me not walking.

I admit it is getting better now after a week of narcissistic workouts. I am more confident about my fitness. The darned little puppy better watch out, I am gonna leave it far behind.

But I am not so sure of grandma though…