You only see what your eyes want to see

Like any other day I was both mentally and physically exhausted as I reached the busy traffic area on my way back home in the evening. The slight breeze through the window swept through my sweaty wet hair cooling off the daily tautness. I was happy to catch the window seat in my office bus. The heavy traffic ahead of me promised fifteen to thirty minute delay.
I could have slept for some more time in the bus but the constant honks from all sides were disturbing. I do not understand why few people honk in traffic in urban areas. They seem to be so impatient. I guess this is what city life does to a human being. Somewhere deep within, I too was feeling frustrated and impatient looking at the ocean of traffic around me.
In this mayhem of thoughts, my eyes caught sight of three young boys selling earthen pots and masks. The bright and colorful masks resembling demons with tongue out are usually hung on top corner of the house. I had asked my granny why we do so when she had asked my father to get one for our house. She told me it keeps the evil spirits away. I was not convinced. The mask looks so evil and scary. The thought of spoiling the look of our newly built house by hanging the mask bothered me. My father understood my worry and explained the reason behind hanging the masks.
People have a tendency to see whatever is bright and colorful. We all love to see the flowers and love to see the rainbow mainly because they are colorful. Colour boosts brain performance and receptivity. So all major advertisements and banners are either in red or blue, and so are these masks. When we hang this on top of our home, people tend to look at the mask rather than the house and so it is believed to save the house from evil sights. I agreed to his explanation to some extent but I felt we always only see what our eyes want to see.
The three boys who were selling this mask were around 5 to 7 years of age. They were shabby and wore torn clothes. I guess their parents asked them to take care of the store for a while in the evening. There was hardly any customer since the time our bus stood there in the traffic. I could hear them talk about the number of matchbox covers they had. Probably they use them for some kind of a game.
All of a sudden, there came a pulsar bike with three high school boys. They were around 12-15 years of age. They parked the bike right in front of the colorful masks and got down. They were equally shabby with mud all over the body. The three young boys at the store gazed at the folks from the bike without a wink. The three boys from the bike moved a bit further and to my dismay, they lit the cigarette and started smoking. The three boys from the store continued to watch the boys smoke and I could see the admiration in their eyes. The boys from the bike finished smoking and drove the pulsar in a small muddy side road.
"When will we be like them?" one of the boys asked others. "Forget the bike, I doubt we even ever get to smoke" said the other. "If we could sell at least one mask today, we can try smoking with the money" he continued with glowing eyes.
I felt pity for their state of mind. There were so many cars in front of them and there was our bus full of techies’ right in front of their store. There were people in their Benz, there were people with iPhone and Blackberry and there were people in suits. None of them caught the kids’ attention, but the ragamuffins could catch their attention within no time. The young boys only saw what their eyes wanted to see.

River Mouth

On a warm summer morning, I woke up with a light giddiness in my head. The clock strike made me realize that it was already seven and time for my morning walk. My five year old granddaughter Diya came running and asked me if we can go for a walk. My eyes searched for her twin sister Divya. "Where is Divya?" I asked Diya. "She is sleeping grandpa" she said pulling my hands.
I walked to their room and woke up Divya. She got up reluctantly and changed her dress and then we went for a walk.
On the way Divya's dress got stuck in the thorn bush and started crying. I saw that her dress was badly stuck in the bunch of thorns. The thorns were stuck on both the sides making me difficult to remove them. I thought it is easier undress her and then take the thorns off from the dress. I managed to undress her with few scratches and started taking her dress back from the thorns carefully. After few minutes of struggle I could take the dress off the thorns. In the meanwhile, my Granddaughters were playing near the river side. They were in their own world, unaware of my struggle with the thorns.
I have lots of memories associated with this river. This place is a mouth of the river where river meets the sea. The river looked very different today. The dark blue water and swift breeze had a mystic power to soothe anyone on the shore. The shallow water with shining pebbles and soft mushrooms on the swamp made the place more pleasing. I was able to see a little island at a far distance, the sight of which is not a pleasant one for me.
It was around 45 or 50 years ago, when I was around 20 years. We were 7 siblings. My father had a coconut farm and we had a small house, mainly constructed in wood. The doors, ceilings, windows were all of teak wood, the most expensive one. All our neighbors and relatives envied but that made my parents proud. My mom spent most time cleaning and wiping the house. They loved it more when my elder sister’s kids came home during their vacation.
They sent me to a local school bearing all the cost with the little money they earned. House and the coconut farm were the only property. The river was our home and the sea fish was our staple food. Things were fine until one day we heard the heart breaking announcement in the radio on a rainy day. The Arabian Sea level was raising and the forecast announced the coastal neighbours to evacuate the place in three months.
It rains cats and dogs in the rainy season in western coast of India. My parents were clueless. Tears started rolling from my mother's eyes. The fear of losing the only property earned in their life time ate them up. Only thing we could do was to get all the coconuts from the tree to a safe place which can earn us some bread for time being. My father planned to get all the costly wood in the house and other stuff shifted to my elder sister's place which was around 50 km from this place. The thought of losing the beloved house was very painful to all of us and especially my mother. But we had to act quickly. We had very less time. We did not sleep that night.
Transportation was a major problem. All people from this region were migrating. To shift all the stuff as planned we would need a minimum of 2 months. Cutting down the coconut was a major problem. There were no folks available to get this done. Everyone was busy re-locating. We sent a telegram to my sister and brother in law to come immediately and take our younger siblings with them. I and my father worked day and night to cut the coconut. My brother in law took few workers with him from his town, who helped us dismantle our house.
Two weeks passed and few houses close to the mouth of the river collapsed due to loose foundation. Nights were more horrible. The sea water would rise from below and pull the nearby coconut trees upside down. People mourned everywhere. Our farm and house was not very far from the sea. Within another week, trees from our farm started turning upside down. We were not even half done in shifting the coconuts and it seemed like we had hardly a week to relocate.
My parents were in a dilemma whether to transfer the coconuts first or the costly wood. We had only one truck and transferring coconuts were easier than the wood. Though the wood had all sentiments attached we had to concentrate shifting the coconuts. Water slowly surrounded our entire place. My father asked my mother to leave to my sister's place.
My father predicted to have 5 more days in hand to shift the rest of the stuff. He planned to cut as much coconut as possible on the first day and send it uphill on second and third day. And on fourth and fifth day, he thought of transferring the costly wood from the dismantled house. We worked day and night in the heavy rain. We were satisfied with the amount of work we could do on the second day. But the rescue squad which arrived there on the third day forced all of us to leave the place immediately. There were cries all over the place. We had to leave the place with whatever little wood we could carry. A day after or two, we heard that the entire area was submerged in the sea.
Coming years were even tougher. We had no place to live and very less money to survive. Though things changed after ten years, the horrendous experience had everlasting effect on my parents. Now after 50 years or so, the place is slowly rising amidst the water and has formed an island, pulling out all those old painful memories.
"Grandpa! See what we got for you" my two little angels came running to me. "It is an old coin Grandpa. It was buried in the sand." I took the one ana from their little hand and looked at the far island of painful reminiscence.

Wandering Thoughts

Statutory Warning: I always wonder why warnings are always written in small fonts. For a change, I am keeping it bigger. Please read at your own risk. This is an exact replica of thoughts flow in subconscious mind and may induce sleep. Have patience. Happy reading.

I never thought travelling 80 km to and fro in Bangalore traffic everyday could be fun. I always pitied Bangaloreans and dithered to move to Bangalore. But destiny, like the million people here, made Bangalore my home.

Initial days when I started travelling in my company bus, I was amazed to see everyone around me dozing hard. They slept in the dusk and they slept in the dawn. Half way to my company is the downtown and the rest half it passes through a wonderful dreamland. But people slept no matter where they were.

First week, I was busy reading the shop boards, signals, sign boards etc trying to get a route map from my home to office. Next few weeks I scanned through the underpasses, metro constructions, the expressway structure etc to get an idea of the growing city. And next couple of weeks I was… errr… yea… dozing.

Sleeping in the bus indeed is my motivation to go to work. Hard to believe, but true. Since my childhood, my father kept telling that waking up before sun would bring me luck. I did that throughout my academia. When I joined my first company, I felt I have gathered enough luck to support rest of my life and started getting up late. But somewhere deep in my heart I was always guilty about it. Now here in Bangalore I have no other option than to gain more luck. I guess even the sun is now jealous about me waking up before him every day without fail. And the secret behind that is..well.. my bus routine. I get up at 5:45 am, rush, get ready and I am in bus at 6:45 am sleeping.

I love reading nonfiction. I am a book addict. But I had lost the touch for few months. I happened to visit library once looking for a reference book for my part time MBA. And just like an alcoholic losing his way back out in beer factory, I was stuck there. Rather than searching my reference book, I started peeping through the nonfiction section. I spent hours there looking at the enormous quantity of books which I wanted to read. I forgot why I was there and issued two nonfiction books that I could not tolerate lying idle in the library racks. Since then my bus routine turned into my study table.

I feel dizzy if I read on a moving bus. So I hold the book in my hand and eagerly wait for traffic signals. I am not sure if it is Murphy’s Law, these days traffic signals are not as long as it used to be during the days when I used to doze. However, I manage to read at least 10-15 pages even on a non-traffic day.

Since past few weeks, I am reading some really amazing books. They were all so inspiring that they are making me think and ponder and are not allowing me to sleep. Today morning, I carried the book "Fooled by randomness", a 300 page book along with my diary and few other books. I got into the bus, found a seat for myself and kept the bag on my lap. The bag was heavy – pretty heavy. "It is the book", I thought – "I need to remove it". I removed the book from my bag and put it on top of the bag. I felt better. Now don’t ask me how that would reduce weight since both the bag and book are still on the lap. You will get an answer when you carry an interesting book and keep the bag on your lap.

The bus travelled in slow pace, but there were no signs of getting stuck in the signals. I wanted to read the book. But I did not want to do it while the bus was moving. That will take away the charm of reading. With no option, I looked outside. I saw the roads being dug for metro work. I saw garbage dumps on the road. I saw few residential areas with no maintenance. There were large beautiful trees with all dirt and trash below. If they were clean it would have been a heaven. I closed my eyes for a while and visualized the clean city. Wow!! True this place can be a heaven.

I opened my eyes only to see the dirt all over. Frustration was paving its way out of me. Why can’t our government take some strict action for cleaning up the whole mess all around the city? They are busy fighting for seats and not even bothered to clean their own mess, forget about the country. Negativity!! aaah!! We always drill down the problems only to blame the government. Don’t we?

"Be the change you are looking for" – I had read it several times in last couple of weeks. I felt it was so true. But now I feel it is an utter crap. It is just another reason to keep quiet and "learn to live" with the odds and stop cribbing. Oh Yeah!! If it is not that, then what is it? Does it mean I should go around and clean the crap all by myself? Yes? No? What is it then?

Well. Let me take a deep breath and assume I am going to clean the crap for the time being. How will I do it? First, I do not want to touch them in my bear hands. I will apply sanitizers first. I will wear plastic disposable gloves. I think I will put those plastic back to recycle along with other non-degradable stuff I clean. I will buy a navy blue gown (is that a gown that shop floor workers in chemical industries wear? Ok something similar), buy boots, a face mask and a hair cover. I will cover myself toe to head to ensure I don’t get any infection while cleaning the mess. It will cost me some bucks but I can afford it for the fact that I am going to do some noble work.

But it is very unrealistic of me cleaning the whole mess all by myself. I need some helping hands. There are lots of unemployed folks who may be interested to join the hands provided I pay them wage. I need to take care of their health too. So I should get some good amount of gloves, gowns, boots, and sanitizers. Oh hold on. Why I would spend something from my pocket, when I myself am earning a few bucks to meet my ends. So, financial support is a showstopper.

Wait. I have completed Non-Profit Organization Management course. I have Harper University certificate with me. Then why not open a Non-Profit Organization to support this noble cause? Sounds like a good idea. All I need to start this organization is, hmm.. a name. I will name this Organization as "Clean City Movement". People start calling it "CC move". Now how cool is that. Ok. Let me not concentrate on trivial things like naming the organization.

How to get this work? Probably, we need to advertise. (Oh it is so nice to see the transition from ‘I’ to ‘we’ already.) Let a group of 10-25 houses, who would like to see their areas clean and healthy form a "Clean City Community". Short form will be ‘CCC’ or ’triple C’ or ‘C cube’. This is cool. The houses in a community should preferably be located in a single street. It is advisable to get consent from each of the house owners. Also, we may have to build some rules like, even if any one of the house in a street or area do not consent to the CC move, team will not take up the project, mainly because we do not want to spend time convincing someone on the need of cleanliness. Or moreover we do not want to create controversies and create a fight over it which our people are very good at. Yes, this is exactly what it is.

We will provide a presentation in various area of Bangalore on how CC move works to build a healthier and happier environment. It will be a PowerPoint presentation and of course I will prepare the presentation. I love doing that. We will collect monthly maintenance amount from each approved CCC. Amount will be evaluated based on the type of area, kind of garbage etc. We will try to keep the amount to an affordable limit. But we may still not be able to meet the edges considering the amount of crap we have around. We need help from big hands. Probably, I will write a letter to Chief Minister, Prime Minister, and President. Again back to government and politics huh? No. Better to approach Big Bees of the society who would like to donate for some noble cause.

Well now that involves lot of money and accounting. I need to have a separate accounting department. I need genuine, trustworthy and loyal workers. I will do a personal interview and gauge them. To maintain records, I need to have a reliable system; I definitely want to reduce the paperwork. If there is a web site, that will be real great. But I do not want to spend money on software. Let me call for projects from engineering students. Let it be a competition. I will have good reward for the team that comes up with a working model.

Aah! That reminds me my engineering project. I enjoyed every bit of it. I was such a good programmer. Was?? I am. Even today. I wanted to brush up the skills by building a re-usable impact analysis tool for my project. I think I can do it today or probably this month.

Sqeeeeeeezzzzzeeeee!!! The bus stopped in the campus and my fellow colleagues woke up from their morning nap and rushed to get down. I too got down thinking about the tool I am planning to build, leaving the clean city in the dream world.

That's not funny

It was a hot sunny afternoon when I reached home for lunch after having a long chat with Patil at his office. "Why Late?" I had expected this question from Savitri. "I had been to Patil’s office. We were chatting about all the beautiful features in the world" I smiled. "That Patil doesn’t have any work. He just sits there in the office. His nephew Prasad takes care of all his business. So this fellow does not allow me to leave whenever I go there. He just needs someone to chat" I continued but I was not sure if she heard it completely. "You said we need to leave by six to catch the train. It is already 1’o clock. Come have lunch. I have lots to pack" she was tensed as she served my lunch. "Don’t worry, we will be there on time" I assured her.

We were late and we had to run and rush to catch the train. I could hear my heart pounding when I sat in my seat. Savitri was waving her saree pallu like a hand fan. She was sweating and so was I. Train started moving slowly and cool breeze was all over me. I got up to put the luggages in an order. "I had told you" Savitri started, "that we would be late. You do not have time sense. Remember we need to leave early to Kudli. So don’t keep talking like a chatterbox at your brother’s place" she frowned. "Come on. It happens once or twice. Otherwise it is always because of you we were late" I said sitting opposite to her. "You get ready soon and don’t spend too much time is dressing up. You grandson is a new born and he won’t be able to admire you" I grinned and saw her control her laugh. "Let’s see" she said and started looking out of the window.

I wanted to make sure I get ready before she does. I got up early, took bath and was ready by seven in the morning. But she was already waiting for me at the breakfast table. My brother was reading newspaper in the varandah who joined us for breakfast. "You are always in hurry" he said. "Couldn’t you have caught some more sleep?" he grumbled. "You don’t understand Shivu.." I said, "Your attige (sister in law) is eager to see her grandson and I cannot afford to be late" and winked. "Bus is at 7:30. We need to rush again anyway" Savitri reminded me seeing me relish every bit of the breakfast. We again ended running up to the bus stand.

It was 4 pm when I got up after a quick afternoon nap. Holding my grandson, making strange voices to make him smile and a heavy sea food lunch made me doze off on a bed. I could hear Savitri still playing with the baby boy from the other room. I saw Mohan, my daughter in law's younger brother watching TV. I asked him to take me for an evening stroll and we left the home assuring Savitri to be back on time to catch the bus back to Mangalore.

Mohan took me to a temple. We left our chappals near the guard and asked him to keep a watch. The temple was very beautiful. It was very big yet peace and serene. We starting talking for eternity, and it was already late when we realized the time. We grabbed our chappals and ran towards home. Savitri was ready and waiting for me. She looked worried for me not being able to reach on time. We had no time to talk and we rushed to bus stand. I avoided talking anything to Savitri and she too did the same.

Next day we had no plans and so we did not get up early. Our train was at 8pm and we had plenty of time. I got up late, had breakfast and decided to have a walk in the market. I went to the corner to wear my chappals and I was shocked to see my chappal being exchanged. I called Mohan to check if he had mine, but he dint. "May be it got exchanged at temple" Savitri said. I was very sad. I bought this chappal just for the sake of Savitri. "You bought this chappal for our daughter's marriage" she had said when she had seen me wear my worn out chappals. "After that you did not buy any for rest of our children's marriage. Now it is high time for you to buy a new one. At least buy one when you are visiting grandson" she had insisted. I was very disappointed for losing my new pair of chappals. I told Savitri it is all because of her. If I had my old chappal, no one would have dared to take it. I washed the exchanged chappal in well water and decided to wear it for the time being. We were on time at the station. Savitri slept peacefully but I could not. I was still thinking about the guard at the temple. "May be he might have exchanged it" I thought.

We reached home in the morning and I went to Patil’s office that afternoon. Patil and I get along very well and we meet almost every day. I sat and spoke to Patil for few minutes when Patil’s nephew Prasad brought two cup of coffee. "Uncle, is your pair of chappal exchanged anywhere?" he asked me. Where on earth did he come to know about this. "Err.. Yes.. How do you know?" I asked. "Oh uncle, I think you are wearing my chappal. I guess it got exchanged when you left our office few days back."

It was that day....

It was just 7 pm and there was haunting silence around. My wife was busy preparing rotis for my journey. But this time she was neither talking about the gossips she had with the neighbor in the morning nor she was nagging the kids for not studying. My son sat in the corner of the sofa just staring my moments, while my little daughter was roaming behind me helping me pack.

"Papa, your water bottle" – Aditi handed me a water bottle. "Thank you dear" I said n lifted my head just to see her pale face. "When will you be back papa?" she had a pain in her voice. "Just a month and I will be back. Days fleet just like that and your papa will be home". "How far is Ajmer? Can’t you drop by weekend?" it was my son with a puzzle block in his hand. "Oh! No! Sunny! You know how far Ajmer is. Don’t you? And why are you all so sad? I will be calling you all every day. There is no reason for you to be sad".

There was a killing silence again. "And you Sunny. You are not a kid anymore. You need to be more responsible now. Take care of your sister while going to school and do not forget to take her back from school." He shook his head in consent. "Aditi, dear you should not go near the well in the backyard while playing with friends. Take care of yourself. Do not trouble your mom." I said to Aditi who was now leaning against the wall. "Yes Papa" she said in a low mild voice.

I did not want to leave my family like this for a month. This is the first time ever I was going to stay away from them for a month. All were very dependent on me and I feared how they would run their daily routine in my absence. My heart was very heavy. But I could not express it to them. I am the strongest in the family and I was supposed to fill confidence in their little hearts.
Shruti packed my dinner and kept it in my bag. It was 7:30 pm and I had to leave. I asked Shruti to take care of her and kids. "Lock the doors safely" I said "and walk careful while crossing the roads. Give me a call in case of any issues. I will keep calling you all often." "You too take good care of yourself" she said "I and kids will be fine. Do not worry." She did not sound very confident. "It was my fault", I thought. I did not teach them to live independently.

Reluctantly, I left the house and I could see them wave at me till I disappeared in the dark. My steps were heavy. My heart wanted to go back home and console my family and give them strength. "How can they live without me for a month?" I wondered. "I should visit them in the weekend no matter what it takes", I thought.

Suddenly, there were thunderstorms and it could rain any time. I had to walk fifteen minutes more to reach the bus stand and realized I did not carry an umbrella. "Let me go back home and get the umbrella" I thought and walked back towards home. I was happy to get some more minutes to spend with the family.

I rang the bell. I wanted to see the happiness on my wife’s and children’s face to see me back home. My heart was beating faster than ever. After few minutes, my wife opened the door. "What happened?" she asked and before I could reply she said, "Just hold on. Nirmala is on the line. I will be be back in a minute" and rushed towards the telephone. I stepped in and saw my son engrossed watching Machester United hit a goal. I could hear my daughters foot step for a song from the other room. Everything seemed to be so normal. I was stunned to see the change. Sorry, there was no change. It was the routine. My wife came to me with an umbrella. "Be careful and watch your steps in the rain" she said. "The roads get soggy and you might slip". I smiled and waved at her and left the house. I felt light.

It was that day I realized how my presence or absence has nothing to do with anyone’s life. It is human nature to think and worry of how life could be without us. When we get our daughter married, or when our son moves out to a different city to work, we keep bothering about their happiness, their safety and want to protect them just the way a sea shell does to a pearl. But in fact, they will run their family in a much better way than we can think of. We can just guide them and say there is thorns this way or flowers on the other. But ultimately it is left to them on what they want to explore.

Look back and smile

I got into the bus and was pleased to get the window seat in the early morning rush. The cool breeze made me feel better as the bus started moving. The to do list in my mind kept growing and I wished it was weekend soon. I will just listen to music, stretch my legs and relax this weekend, I thought. The very thought of it brought a smiling curve on my face. Three more days to go, I sniffed.

“It is too much. I cannot read anymore” a sweet young kid of around 9 years old was telling this to his friend beside him. The two kids had their Social Studies text book in their hand and as I sunk into my seat, they were busy reading their books. It was exam hours for primary school students and it was obvious these young soldiers were preparing for the battle.

“If I read more, I will surely get confused. I will close my book now” the boy repeated, but was unwilling to close it unless the other boy showed a positive vibe on closing the text books. The other stout little kid with big glasses reluctantly agreed with the first boy and closed the book. Both the boys put the books in their back bag. “I am so eager to complete this last paper. It is been more than a month now not playing cricket” the first boy glittered.

“Yes macha! Once this is done, we can play cricket throughout our vacation. Let us talk to Mohan, Sreeni, Teja and Deepak. We can form a team.”

“Bindu and Ashok will also surely join.”

“But Bindu will be going out with his parents. They are planning to go to Mangalore this time”

“What is the big deal? I am also going to my Granny’s place during the vacation”

“What?”, the stout boy was sad. “Are you also going to your granny’s place? You won’t play cricket is it?

“No you dumbo. I will go to my Granny’s place only for a week. She stays in Mysore. I told my father also. I won’t be staying there more than a week”

“Good. Thank God. We will meet tomorrow and decide the teams”

“Why wait till tomorrow? We can meet today evening soon after the exam. What say?”

“No Dear. That lady won’t leave us after the exam”

“Lady? Who?”

“Arey.. Radhika madam. She will start planning for vacational activities, home work and so on”

“Uff..Yeahh.. I hate it macha”

“Hmmm…”

There was silence for a while. Then the first boy started it again.

“She was the supervisor for science paper. She was very strict. But luckily the paper was easy. I am pretty sure I will score out of out in that paper.”

“Is it? My paper was not so good. What was the answer to the third question on simple pendulum?

“Forget it. If I start talking about that paper, I will forget Social Studies”. It was very evident that the first boy was bluffing. He continued “I wish today it is Rakhi madam”

“Why? She allows you to copy?”

“He!! he!! She dozes off in the class room and is least bothered about what we do during the exam. It is very easy to copy in her presence”

“I think will be Shekar Sir for us today”

“He is also good. If you are caught copying just accept it when he asks you. He will not punish you if you tell the truth. If you do not accept your mistake he will walk you to the principal.”

“Oh! Really? That is good to know. Hey, it is our stop. Come let us get down”

The boys got down the bus and only then I realized how I was carried away with their conversation. I could see my childhood in them. The last day of the exam was always awaited. During the last few days of exam, I used to spend more time planning for vacation activities rather than reading. Even during my bachelor degree days, I used to plan to sleep for hours after the last paper but often enjoyed staying back late night partying with friends. Moreover exams seemed to be a big burden on me. Planning for some crazy task for the vacation made me feel big. As I look back now, I feel it is so silly. May be after 10 years or so, when I look back to my current state worrying about weekday, things to do list and just waiting for weekend to stretch my legs, I will surely laugh at myself and regret for not being happy during the days of joy and excitement. The very thought of it filled in energy. I got down the bus, with full spirit and walked towards my office with a smile.

The Sunday whine

Sometimes in life, we end up doing things that we never ever think of doing even in our wildest dreams. It is just a spark at the right time, which flash and then disappear in the world of random rays that scramble our thoughts.

I am not an atheist, yet I seldom visited any temple or holy place. My Karate and Kalari (a kind of martial arts practiced in Southern India) classes always took a priority over my temple visits. Marriage is a major turning point in any girl’s life (and so is the case for boys as well I guess), and it did not generate any exception in my case. I got married to Sampath last year, a very humble and down to earth person. Sampath has a strong belief in Lord Krishna and attends Hari Naama Keerthanas regularly. Staying in a sub-urb near Chicago did not create an obstacle from following his routine since we have a pretty good group of Lord Krishna devotees here. I do accompany him and have started enjoying it. Now I am not only a regular devotee you see in temples, but I also do work as a volunteer in temples.

This Sunday was not very different. I and Sampath got ready by 5 am and drove to the nearby lake shore to join the devotees. The bhajan went on for hours and everyone around me was engrossed in devotion. It’s not that I do not show interest or lack concentration during the prayers, but I have a habit of watching the nature (and people of course) around me as I pray the Lord to build harmony. All devotees were in Indian wear, mostly in saffron and I could see the pretty Americans dancing around us for our bhajans in their swim wear. It was an awesome sight to watch! As the sun started rising over us, we marched towards the temple.

I mostly volunteer for the kitchen services in the temple and this time I was assigned to take off the seeds from jalapenos by slitting it in the middle, to prepare a kind of fry which would resemble the bajji. I was very happy about this simple task and bare hand I continued with my task, happily chatting with my co-volunteers. By mid-day, the food was ready and was offered to Lord. I and Sampath had our lunch and returned home.

Throughout the way, there was a kind of irritation in my fingers which later spread throughout the palm. The jalapenos seeds had its effect on my soft hands but I rarely noticed. Sampath had to meet one of his friends and he left after dropping me home. I was very tired to do anything and thought of lying on the couch doing nothing.

We discover lot of things when we decide to do nothing and I discovered that the irritation in my palm turning to irresistible burning sensation. Before I could realize what is happening, my foot rushed for the freezer and I started collecting the ice cubes in a tumbler. I dipped both my hands in the ice cubes. Felt relieved for a moment but immediately I felt my hands are cracking out and I uttered Lords name genuinely with a purpose for the first time in the day.

“This is not gonna help me”, I cried. I remembered my mother applying coconut oil when I had burnt my finger. I wiped my hands and rushed to apply coconut oil, but it did not help. “Coconut oil works in India, not here. Try Olive oil” my 6th, 7th and 8th sense told me. Within no time I was pumping out the olive oil and rubbing it rigorously on my hands. I felt my senses are dead, I could only sense the burning on my hand.

“Use technology… use technology”, this time it was my heart. I always follow my heart and so I responded “What technology? What technology?” “Oh dumb girl!! Use your laptop, internet and google… google… google…” there was a kind of echo in my heart. My hands were playing bharathanatyam without my knowledge as I rushed to my laptop.

As I googled ‘Jalapenos burning hand’, I learnt that there were many people who had suffered similar kind of burning. I was happy to read that though I have no clue why people feel relieved and happy learning others suffering. Probably it gives us an illusion of having a company with similar or worse experiences. “Rub salt crystals all over the Jalapeno pepper hands. Salt acts as a scrub against the jalapenos pepper oil”. I ran to the kitchen and was back with salt in my hand.

Salt scrub did not help either. This was followed by scrubbing with sugar and lemon juice. My hands were smelling lemonade now, but it was not as relieving as drinking the lemonade. There was a big list of suggestion lying out there on the site – baking soda, milk, sunburn gel, first aid burn spray, calamine lotion, hand lotion and the list went on. I lost all energy and was very tired to try anything more. But jalapeno pepper burning increased with the entire ingredient I added to it.

“Try brandy. It worked for me and will surely work for you”, I saw a post from a lady. This was the only statement which I felt was written with confidence and right experience. “I am going to try this last solution and if it does not work, I will give up”, I thought.

Brandy… now where will I get this? Sampath never drinks and neither do I. I do not know any friends in neighborhood who drink. One who drinks is around 25 miles away from my home and I cannot drive all over there. I thought of calling Sampath, but did not feel like disturbing him when he was having his personal time out with his friends. ‘Oh Lord! I am such a wonderful person from heart. I never ever troubled my husband. Neither did I use my Karate and Kalari skills on him. Then why am I punished? Is it for looking around the nature as I pray for harmony? I vow not to divert my attention towards the Americans dancing in swim suits when I do the bhajans. Please get me out of this!!’ But it was too late.

‘Dominicks’, I remembered. Yes, I can go to Dominicks, search for a low price Brandy all by myself and do a self checkout on my own. I can never do this in India. I cannot think of a middle class orthodox family lady going to a store to get Brandy. The sight of the people watching you buy it and the murmers will burn you more than the jalapeno pepper. Moreover, if any of your friend or relative see you buying brandy, the burning sensation may last for your lifetime. Lucky me, I have no relatives here and all my friends are like me.

I did not bother to change my outfit and drove to the nearby Dominicks and scanned for a low price Brandy. I did not want to take anybody’s help. I did not want people to spread rumor about an Indian lady in saffron clothes and tilak buying brandy. But selecting a brandy is not a simple job. There were many brands. Each of these brands could have its own positive traits that a connoisseur of brandy would appreciate. But I do not think anyone would have made a point to suggest which one is good for jalapeno pepper burn. Alas, I found one pear shaped brandy bottle for $16 – cheapest among the list.

Making sure no one is seeing me picking a brandy bottle, I slowly placed it in my cart. The burning sensation was killing me by now and I wanted to get out of this as soon as possible. But when things have to go wrong, they go wrong no matter what you do. I could not expect anything better when the barcode on the brandy bottle was not recognized by the self checkout counter. I chose self checkout to hide from the obtrusive eyes but now I could not help myself but calling for help. Two huge stout fellows came to my help and one of them turned out to be an Indian. I tried to keep a blank expressionless face and tried to be cool and calm. But somehow I started feeling my own heart beat. The two stout men did some magic and finally my brandy was billed.

I drove back home with my hands still playing bharathanatyam and piano at the same time. I poured the brandy in two big tumblers and dipped my hand in it. I could feel the heaven. The magical powers of brandy soothe my hands. It was worth the effort, pain and money of course. Taking the hands off the brandy regained the burning sensation and so I had to keep my hand dipped in brandy for the rest of the day. By night, the burning sensation had disappeared.

I shared my Sunday whine to my friends. They were not very happy with what I did. “Dipping the hand in brandy do no good” they said, “you could have overcome the pain in just 5 minutes by drinking it”. Well… you cannot expect more from friends, but after reading this story I believe you know how to overcome the jalapeño pepper burn. If you are still thinking it is the brandy then no, it is not the brandy. It is wearing the gloves while you work with jalapeno peppers.

‘Why would you like to work for our company?’

This is one of the most FAQ (Frequently Asked Question). Every candidate is well prepared for this question and the interviewer is also well aware of this. For every company, there is a most FAA (Frequently Answered Answer) available for this FAQ and the interviewer will just update his FAA database while interviewing each candidate.

‘This is my dream company…’ this is how most of the candidates start the answer with. Then they will slowly talk about the values built by the company and the inspiring thoughts of the founder and/or the CEO of the company. I sometimes wonder if this is what actually a person look forward to join a company. Some people tend to give frank reply by saying that they are here to enhance their professional growth. The interviewer has to accept it anyway and cannot deny it, no matter how bad the company policies are to hinder the professional growth of an employee. Few go one step ahead and mention they have read a lot about the company, its growth and involvement in the local community. In fact, all they would know about the company is the google search results that would have come up the night prior to interview. All said, this is what I had done for my interview and I believe it is the same case for most of you out there too.

Have you ever wondered why would the interviewer ask this most FAQ even after knowing the FAA? This is because there are few special people out there – not as dull and dumb as you or me, who have some really fascinating answers which can drive you crazy.

It was the Tata Consultancy Services interview board for Campus interview in one of the famous college in South India. There were around 100 candidates shortlisted for the HR round. Sheethal had taken the interview of couple of candidates. She had a list of candidates highlighted in the shortlisted names who were already placed in some other campus interviews. She was told that these candidates were just trying out their luck in different companies and probability of they joining the company is just 50% since they already have an offer in hand.

Sheethal did not want to lose any slots by selecting a candidate who was not willing to accept the offer. So she just chatted with such candidates for some 10 minutes or for max 15 minutes if the candidate was interesting enough. With all these candidates, she did make a point to update her FAA database.

The next candidate knocked the door and entered the interview panel. He was wearing a light blue shirt, black trousers with navy blue tie that get along well with the shirt. He was wearing rectangular black frame spectacles, with a pencil beard outlining his cheeks. Sheethal impressed with his attire, signaled him to get in.

“Good afternoon madam! I am Neal Malhotra.”, the candidate introduced himself.
“Hi Neal! I am Sheethal. Nice meeting you. Please take your seat”
“Thank you madam! Here is my curriculum vitae”, Neal handed the resume to Sheethal as he gently sat on the chair.

Sheethal took the resume as she scanned the list beside her. She was a bit disappointed to see Neal’s name in the already placed list. So this would be another 15 min to half an hour discussion that would take her nowhere. She did not want to spend this time judging the candidates technical expertise. She decided to keep the conversation light.
“Your CV is very impressive” she said smiling “Where are you from?”
“I am from Darjeeling, West Bengal”
“Darjeeling? Wah! I have heard that it is a pretty place”
“Yes, it is. Darjeeling is nested in a setting of Kanchenjunga and Mount Everest, Tibetan Monasteries, Himalayan tribal Life, Pine trees etc which make her qualify as the queen of all hill stations.”
“Hmm. that is interesting.”

Sheethal realized that the conversation is going to be interesting. She would have perhaps recruited Neal if she had not seen his name in the list. But, now she had to just spend the time listening to the interesting facts that Neal would lie in front of her. She talked to Neal about his parents, reason for choosing a college in South India etc. She found all Neal’s answers impressive. Fifteen minutes passed and Sheethal realized that she should now jump into one of her favorite question.

“So Neal, why would you like to work for our company?” Sheethal had already processed some probable answers in her mind and was taking guesses on what Neal would answer.

“Ah! That’s a very interesting question” said Neal.

“Come on man... Tell me this is your dream company, the company values drive you crazy and so on. You had an interesting answer for all the other question and you cannot have anything better for this question” – Sheethal wanted to tell this aloud but she held her back and just continued staring and smiling.

“It’s a long story” Neal continued. “It is all because of the capital letter A”

Sheethal for a second felt she fell off the chair. She tried to recall what question she asked Neal. “Did I ask him the right question?” she thought. “Capital letter A!?” she asked him in a baffled tone.

“Yes, it is all because of the capital letter A” said Neal. “When I was a kid, I used to hate the capital letter A. I always used to forget the small horizontal line in it and used to just write it as an inverted V. My teacher scolded and punished me everyday, but what shall I do? I always forgot to add a horizontal line. I got less marks in the test. My mother also scolded me for missing the horizontal line. One day, I was very disappointed and was sitting on a bench in the playground. There, I saw a big truck. I was very happy to see this truck. I immediately fell in love with it. I realized I should be a truck driver when I grow up.”

“Truck driver?? What was so special in that truck?”

“Yes, a truck driver. The truck had a metal carving of TATA on it, with a capital A which did not have a horizontal bar. I thought the owner of the truck was just like me. He also had forgot to add a horizontal bar in the A.”

Sheethal had her jaw wide open and was trying to grasp Neal’s story.

“I felt very sorry for the owner of the truck since he too might have faced the same scolding and punishment as I. Yet the owner of the truck was successful enough in life to own a truck. So I decided to be a truck driver. As I grew, I learnt that TATA was a great company and also learnt about Jamshedji Tata. I realized that the owner did not forget to add a horizontal line as I did but it was just a logo. Yet, I had a great passion for TATA and the way it was written. After completing my school, I joined engineering as most of my friends did. I had forgotten about being a truck driver. Today morning, while I returned from canteen with my girl friend, something on the notice board attracted me. It was again the same TATA with horizontal line missing. My childhood dream flashed in front of me. My desires sprout again. What if I cannot be a truck driver, I still had a chance to work for TATA as an engineer. I immediately took the application from the placement cell and filled it.”

Neal’s eyes were beaming. Sheethal was wonderstruck with this answer. She did not know what to say. “This is definitely not an entry in FAA database” Sheethal thought. She felt relieved from all the strain and stress that she had gone through since morning. She wished Neal all the best and announced a break.

Fooled by randomness

It was just another Friday evening. There was an unnoticed calmness in my mind and heart filled with joy. This was a long awaited moment after five stretched and wreaked weekdays. I had nothing to do except to lie on my bed munching snacks and watching my favorite Seinfeld and George Lopez shows. I had my lappy – my laptop beside me and my personal mail box open. My dear friends often emailed me about their day, work or any incidents that they were interested to share. It was early morning 5 am back home while I am in a time zone where the clock is lagging ten and a half hour. I was pretty sure I would not get any emails at this point of time. But my stupid mind could not stop me take a look at my inbox every 10 minutes. I was addicted.

‘1 new message’ popped up and I turned to look at the inbox only to see an email from ‘Zorpia’ saying we have found few friends for you in India. Since time immemorial, I get this message in my Inbox. I do not know which friend of mine had sent me an invite and I had created an account that was never used. During off hours when I do not get any emails from my friends and family, I get emails from Zorpia, Amazon, eBillme, Bank Of America etc. I frowned and deleted the message. The Seinfeld was now getting more interesting and I had my undivided attention. Seinfeld and my snacks got over and I got up to get some tea and few more snacks. Having snacks always made me feel relaxed and without that Friday evening will be incomplete.

I came back with a cup of tea and some snacks and George Lopez show was on. I placed the snack beside my bed and I saw 4 new emails in the inbox. At a glance I could make out all four were junk emails and none of them were from my friends or relatives. I started deleting all the emails and stopped to see a strange subject line “A unique case of e-introduction (alpha version) – Trust me this is not spam”


Since my childhood I have a tendency of doing things that I am not asked to do. “Diya, do not watch this horror show. It is not meant for you”, my parents once told me and I watched the entire season hiding in a blanket (I felt safe from ghosts hiding in a blanket) without missing even a single episode. Same way, I was asked not to read any spam emails when I initially started using internet and since then I have read each and every spam emails. The subject line ‘This is not a spam’ gathered my attention. I took a look at the sender’s name – Kapil Bhakshi – same surname as that of mine. I do not know when I clicked the mouse – I was already reading the email.

As I read through the email, I realized that it is not a spam; instead it had some really serious stuff in it. Apparently, it seemed like Kapil’s parents and my parents were talking to each other and they wanted us to know each other. This was a real shaky. I could not recall my parents talking about anything like this. Moreover, I was pretty sure my father did not share my personal email ID to anyone. I immediately took my cell phone and started dialing my calling card, but later stopped realizing the time-zone difference. The difference in time zone also meant I had good enough time in hand to study the situation. I read through Kapil’s email again.

‘Is this really a spam? But how could I get a spam from a person with a same surname as mine? Can’t be… this cannot be a spam’. Disheveled thoughts were swiveling in my mind. Kapil had not revealed any details about him. He had mentioned that he does not want to bore me with all his details and I can get it if I wish from FaceBook. The spy in me was alert. I opened my Facebook account and opened Kapil’s profile. It did not have any details except for the fact that he is from a medical college.

Medical college??? I always thought my parents were looking for an engineer and not a doctor. My mother wanted me to study medicine. I never felt like studying medicine except for few days during my pre-university course while I was following ‘Sanjeevani’ – a serial about medical college and students. After my pre-university course, I was successful convincing my parents for engineering. My parents were fine by diverting their attention towards my brother. My brilliant brother got his admission in pre-university for computers. This means he did not opt for biology which in turn means NO to medicine. For a moment I was jolted. Probably my parents wanted to see a doctor in our family and so they went in search for Dr.Son-In-Law!!

I had ample time to study about Kapil. The spy in me had already logged into Linked-In. Kapil’s profile was very impressive. His linked-in profile had links which took me to a web-page detailing about the noble cause Kapil was working for which could bring a difference to Indian history of medicine. The spy in me was busy surfing for his profiles all over the internet and various social networking and within an hour or so, I had learnt a lot about Kapil. I wonder what I am doing in a servicing industry. I deserve to be in Central Bureau of Investigation.


Tik Tik Tik… It was 8 am at home when I called my parents. I spoke to them about Kapil’s email. My parents were a little surprised and confused. They were not aware of talking about alliance for any doctor and moreover they had not shared my email address to anyone. My father asked me to give his contact number to Kapil so that he can talk to him and the confusion clarified.

‘So was this a spam?’ I asked my dearest friend ‘or a mere co-incidence?’ ‘It could be possible that one of your uncles is talking to Kapil’s parents and your parents are unaware of it’ she said. ‘Ask him to share his family details and that may help your parents to relate’.

That sounds good to me. I replied back to Kapil showing an interest to know about his family. I also shared my fathers contact number and asked him to talk to him. My cell phone started buzzing. ‘Hey Diya!! Hurry up yaar. We all are waiting’ and I rushed to get ready.

Next day morning I got up to see my lappy blinking. I logged in to see couple of new emails and my eyes caught Kapil’s name. I took a deep breath and opened his email. This time there were details about his family. His father studied in Mumbai and had settled there ever since. His mom and my mother were classmates. He has a younger brother who is doing just completed his engineering. Again there were neither any detail about his native location nor he had mentioned his parent’s name.

The state of confusion was lingering me now. My mother could not recall any of her friends whose son was a doctor. Moreover she could not recollect any of her friends staying in Mumbai. I wanted to get this clarified now. There could be only two possibilities. One there is a big confusion or two someone is playing a prank with me.


I did not take any long route this time. My message was direct. I told Kapil that my parents are not aware of this proposal and it could be one of my relatives – uncle, aunt, mama, mamy, grandpa who is talking to his parents and I want to get this clarified before we could proceed with any conversations.

I waited for Kapil’s reply. I was curious to know what exactly is going on. The uncertainty was killing me within. Emails from Zorpia, Amazon, E-billme were flooding my inbox. I patiently deleted them and waited for the Kapil’s email.

I did not receive any email till noon. A friend of mine invited to her house for an informal girls party. I went there and momentarily forgot about the whole spam incident. I had a nice time chatting, munching, gossiping and doing all the girls stuff. It was late in the evening when I started walking towards my apartment. I do not know why but I could feel my heart pounding. I was going to unveil the mystery of the day.

I opened the apartment door and rushed to my lappy and logged in. There was this ‘not a spam’ subject line blinking. I was just one click away from the truth – a truth that can take me out of the uncertainty.. a truth that can bring back the feeling of weekend.


‘Hold on. Did you say - alliance? I'm afraid your fear was right. I'm actually trying to reach out to a certain Diya Bhakshi,(who is incidentally known in my family circles) who is an upcoming Indian sushi chef and also slated to accompany me as an exchange student to Osaka, Japan (and hence all the introductions for the upcoming sushi contest in Japan). I guess that you are not the person I'm trying to reach. I'm so sorry that you had to bear with this inadvertent spam. I hope I didn't disrupt/distract in your search for alliance. All the best!’
I went numb reading Kapil’s reply. I could not believe that I had duped myself. I was trying to understand what made me conclude that Kapil’s email was about an alliance. And moreover where did this Sushi come from? Was I a bit too stereotypic about emails from unknown person with my surname? There was a big mess created and I was not sure whether to laugh at it or just meditate to come out of it. Whatever it is, I realized that I was out of the uncertainty which almost killed me.

I was a little embarrassed as I typed a reply to Kapil. I could not reply to him immediately. I slept, took a nap and then thought of replying back.

‘Thanks for the clarification. I am not a sushi chef (not at all a good cook) and the tone of your email asking us to know each other bla bla bla made me feel to think like that. I am glad that we got it clarified.’

I read the email twice before I could send it. I did not want to create unnecessary myths around this conversation. I sent the email and went back to sleep.

It was just a weekend but it seemed too long. There was lot of havoc in my mind that had disturbed my mental balance. How can there be such a mis-communication? What is a doctor doing in Sushi competition? Is he really a doctor? He never told me that. I searched in various networking sites for Kapil Bhakshi and concluded he is a doctor. It can be possible that he is a chef. But the email ID on the networking sites are the same that I received. Could it be that cooking is just his hobby? The spy in me was somehow not convinced with this whole Sushi incident. In the meanwhile, I also found a friend request in orkut with subject line ‘Beta version – Kapil’.


Next day there was again an email in the inbox. It was Kapil again. As regards japanese cuisine he asked me not to sweat over it. He mentioned sushi is as good as the wasabi and we Indians can make awesome wasabi. I had no clue what ‘wasabi’ was. The spy in me was asking me to google for it, so that I will know what sect of people has this in their dish. I had decided not to listen to the spy in me and did not bother to search for it. I was pretty sure it is not a dish from my sect.

That evening I saw a friend request from Kapil on Facebook. I did not want to accept it before I knew the fact. I immediately replied to Kapil with a subjet line ‘Version cannot be upgraded’. I had lot of confusion and I wanted them to be clarified. I guess I my tone was a bit stern and I received the reply.

‘Here's the thing:
This is a total co-incidence and I guess we were both "fooled by randomness". It turns out: My folks were talking to this certain Diya Bhakshi’s family for alliance and stuff. My brother and my folks sent me a orkut profile link -saying this was that Diya to whom I was supposed to get in touch with. I did not double check this information and emailed rightaway. I had no idea that I was inadvertently emailing the wrong Diya (you). I was a little quizzed when you asked me to speak to your folks, because our parents were already speaking to each other. So that’s the real truth.’

I re-read the email. Sushi-wasabi was all prank and the mystery was unveiled. My own name had become my nightmare. This was the third time I was duped by my own name. My overseas bank was a bit hesitant to open an account without an SSN number since there was already a Diya Bhakshi in their system. Next time it was in SSN office. My request was rejected since there was another request with same first name and last name. And the third time a real freaky. I asked Kapil to let me know once he meets the Diya Bhakshi that he was looking for.

Weeks passed and I did not hear back from Kapil. But I received a call from my uncle ‘Diya, when did you pass your engineering?’ The degree passed out year can always be used to derive your year of birth and so the story goes on.

Last night incident...

It was yet another morning at my desk. The three CCD coffee mugs were lying on my desk since last evening. I threw them in the bin below the desk and cleaned my desk while my desktop was still running the login script. There was mesmerizing silence all across me. The last night incident had left everyone stunned. A truck carrying GoodDay biscuits had hit one of our night shuttles and one of my colleagues took her last breath on the spot. If not for the high alert incident that was raised the last night, I would have taken the same shuttle.

Preethi was a calm girl, hardly interacted with anyone and was always reserved. She used to sit in the opposite wing and I used to meet her sometimes in the lift. She never exchanged a smile or note of recognition and was always found alone during lunch breaks. I am surprised that I have noticed her so much and did not realize it until I got to know about her death.

My desktop gave the Windows logging alarm and I opened my outlook. “Hey Sneha, How you doing?”. Vinny was there at my desk with wrinkles on her forehead. “Doing good Vinny.. What about you?”.

“No yaar, I am not doing any good. I was asked to inform Preethi’s parents about her death. You know it is such a difficult job”

“Oh dear!! Did you inform them?”

“Yes!! I did…”

There was complete silence. I did not know what to ask. Wrinkles on Vinny’s forehead grew deeper. She turned to me and said “And you know what? Preethi’s parents reaction left me paralyzed. They did not seem to be concerned. They told me that they considered her to be dead few years back when she ran away with a guy and hung the phone. It was shocking…”. She sighed and left the cubicle before I could say something.

Tons of thoughts kept swirling in my mind. How can a parent be so rude? It cannot happen this way. I was very disturbed. My mail box had couple of alert emails but they did not alert me enough to work. I was badly in need to coffee. I went to Nisha – my coffee partner.

As we walked across the lobby towards the pantry, Nisha explained me the accident scene as though she watched it live on TV and watched it over and over again on youtube. I just kept nodding. I did not want to listen to all this but somewhere deep in my mind I was curious to know more about Preethi. “And Sneha, you know what…” I was alert now. I felt Nisha would have more details on Preethi’s parent’s reaction.

“No. I do not know. What is it?”

“Sandeep called Preethi’s husband to inform him about her death. Looks like that fellow was completely drunk when Sandeep called and he did not bother to come to hospital. He is such an irresponsible swine. Sandeep had to call him over and over again this morning and only then he agreed to come”.

Coffee did not seem to have its regular charm. I was completely disturbed learning about Preethi’s fate. Life is so fragile. It is so hard to find true love and affection. People learn to hate someone very easily in no time, but why do they take so long to love and appreciate someone. I was in need of meditation.

I went back to my cubicle and I saw Sweety (alias Shruthi) at her desk. She was looking as lively and jovial as ever. But there was something even she was bothered about. “Hiyeeee!!!” she wished me in her regular tone. “Hi Sweety! What happened? You look worried”.

“Haan Sneha!!! You got to know about the night shuttle right!! I felt so bad you know! There were tons of Cashew and Pista biscuits lying all over the road and people were driving over them.”

The last night incident had left its own impact on everyone.