Missing in (Ma)action

And this lady is my Mother (one of many). She's run away to Leeds as well. I couldn't call her en route to the airport so this is my weepy goodbye message. There's a fair chance I'll have forgotten about it when she returns in a year's time. Have fun in Blighty Krithika.

In a little Mumbai village

Where it's acceptable to pillage

There used to live a girl

Whose hair didn't ever curl

With a name like Krithika Iyer

And a voice like the town crier

She's miss goody two shoes

Part butterfly, part recluse

Something about her almond eyes

Assure you they they hide no lies

She's not my first momma

Nor a number separated by a comma

I can't be her exclusive son

That would mean injustice done

But I won't add any to that list

While she enjoys the English mist.

The brightest and wisest of us all

Yet defending us like a wall

She's gone to Leeds to be brilliant

And she'll return jubilant

And so we can wait a year

To once again see our precious momma bear.

The Idiot's Guide to Pickpocketing

For the second time in a year a boy tried to pull my wallet out of my back-pocket this morning and failed. His attempt so was amateurish and obvious, that I had half a mind to haul him to the cops for being a pathetic thief. He couldn't have been more than nine years old and made no effort to hide his short-lived prize. To my credit, I knew there was something fishy about the kid and turned around the second I got off the bus. What helped my cause was that the offender dug in his hand while I was un-boarding and made the mistake of climbing down after me.

I was so surprised at his stupidity and the ease with which I caught him that I didn't even bother to give him a couple of sharp ones on the head for his trouble. As a matter of principle, I don't punish incorrigible bastards.

The boy's failure has made me realize that budding pick-pockets in the city need help. Sure, they are tutored by their street-smart mentors but it's time some definite guidelines are put to paper. I'm wasting time over this in sincere hope that it contributes to the cause of the successful pick-pocketing everywhere. Here goes -

1. Do not look like a ruffian 
   I understand this is pretty hard to do for prepubescent boys, I've been there myself. But the vaguest resemblance to anything the spent last night sleeping in dog piss and reeking of rotten cabbage and is around three feet tall immediately raises the alarm. A single glance at the creature causes people to clutch their belongings tight and throw looks of disgust in its general direction.
   
   

2. Never ever loiter 
   Add a general aimlessness and minimal movement to a ragged appearance and you get what is called a 'suspicious individual', the kind bus inspectors and cops keep their eyes peeled for but never seem to spot. Really, the last thing you want to do is look like you can't pay the fare and intend to inhabit the currently occupied three square inches all day long.
   
   

3. Do not give yourself away 
   This is a classic no-no, applicable to criminals in every field and of every size and description. Allow me to illustrate with my own example. The kid who would eventually attempt to rob me, unnecessarily blocked my passage to the exit of the bus and stuck to my backside once I did get past him. I was instantly on the alert and placed my palm protectively on my ass. The fact that he struck when in the few seconds when it was away is of no consequence. He gave himself away and only drew attention with his 'diversionary tactics'. Clearly, subtlety is the way to go.
   
   

4. Do not stare
   I feel really foolish saying this but I guess it must be done. It occurs to me that I'm not exactly addressing an enlightened audience. The length of your stare at the target is inversely proportional to your chances of cleanly picking his/her pocket. Stay content with a casual 3 second sweep to identify your potential victim. Anything exceeding that and you're clearly in the wrong profession.
   
   

5. Run, run, run!
   You're bound to be caught if you stand rooted to the spot after extracting a bulging wallet. In the few seconds that you stare at your achievement with undisguised amazement and ecstasy, you allow its irate owner you turn around and bash your skull in. Take it from me, the sooner you step outside the reach of their outstretched arms, the better are your chances of making a getaway, provided you don't run into human obstacles.
   
   
6. Hide the prize
   You may not always want to run so as not to appear to have committed the dastardly act. In that case, it is advisable to stash it somewhere real quick. This requires deft hand movement, imagination, the ability to lie convincingly and beat frisks by concealing the wallet in a flap of  fold-able skin. But seeing as you posses none of these delightful gifts, you're better off making a run for it.

Make a note of these simple instructions and you should be able to avoid capture while sinking your paws into the behinds of fellow humans in the hope of recovering some loose change.

Gifting Myself An Early Birthday Present

Goodbye Beautiful Beard (July - September 25)

I got a shave today, for the first time since July something. It's not like I've sold out on my caveman image. I've just realized that I can't grow a beard without picking at it every waking minute. I'm not sick of beards just yet but I think I think I've identified some kind of ideal length beyond which I shouldn't allow the grass to grow. So yeah, I walked into a pint-sized barbershop in Dayanand Colony this morning on impulse and was out 20 minutes later feeling and looking a different man.

I indulge in these radical transformations four or five times a year but my new classmates in Delhi aren't ready for it yet. I can already imagine their expressions and reactions in a few hours.

What's weird about today is that the need to clean up came from within, when it's normally the threat of being thrown out of the house that forces me to take the step. My mother's halfway across the country and frankly, there's no pressure, so I must be losing my mind.

The girls are right, I have turned into the un-Srinath.

Hope it makes the grandparents happy on Thursday.

The only consolation - it doesn't look gay.

The Aftermath (September 25 - hopefully very soon) 

Ode to Pops

He's my father this man is and he's all of 24. He abruptly launched into a family some two and a half years ago and he's managed to keep it going ever since. He left to study Marketing and Branding at the University of Leeds on Wednesday and even though I haven't seen him since I left Bombay on August 30, I miss him like hell already. I don't usually rhyme, so it's even more obvious now that this nutcase is really important to me. Until we meet again in around a year's time, I hope this temporary goodbye message does justice to the occasion. 

You stand six feet off the ground

Your wisdom is profound

That gap between your eys and hair

Covers a brain beyond compare

You'll always be a failed engineer

Even though it's copy that you now hold dear

This you can't ever refute,

Like your wit I won't dispute.

The little thing in your pocket,

that you call a wallet

Hold a lot of notes and dimes

That I've begged for too many times

But you're a real miser,

Who loves his Budweiser

Sometimes you splash the cash

And throw a big bash

And get everybody thirsty

For a mad maaza party!

You're not my first pop

The list won't ever stop stop

But you've always been around

Whenever my world went round

From pulling up my pants

To reading all my rants

You've been at my beck and call

Despite being a baap to us all.

Now that you've gone to the U.K.

Thane won't ever be okay

Your kids may go to jail

But you'll come online to post bail

This may come late and out of the blue

But just remember I love you.

Travelling through Zombieland

Ever had one of those days when you feel you've left part of yourself lying on the bed in spite of feeling fully conscious? Over the course of the next 500-odd words i'm going to make a very big deal of not having slept enough last night. And the following not-heading-anywhere is completely justified since it comes from a boy that averages 9 hours a night and would like to keep it that way for as long as is possible.

I'm pretty sure I sleepwalked through today, some of the parts are fuzzy but I clearly remember eating two meals. I wasn't sure I'd wake up on time but somehow I was more than awake when the alarm rang. At that time it didn't seem like only five hours had passed since hitting the hay. But it was only around 9.30 am, after the first blast of wakefulness was wearing off and coffee failed that I realised my purpose for today. I was meant to disable the alarm and snore away till well past noon. I'm not sure what was supposed to follow but it did include shitting my pants upon realizing that I'd skipped an important submission. But as with everything else, I know I did nothing about it and just went back to sleep post the momentary panic and pant-soiling.

Let's step away from the hypothetical for a minute. What did happen instead was a lot of nodding and lolling, my head was dangerously close to falling off its hinges and into my lap every time I sat down, except when I was eating. My eyes couldn't have been more than half open for more than a few seconds at a time and when added to my general slob-ish appearance, I pretty much looked like something the cat dragged in after a particularly wild night out on the streets. There were times when I had no control over myself. I kept singing snatches of 'I Can't Stay' and 'Boots' by The Killers, 'Only the Young by Brandon Flowers, 'Ruby' by Kaiser Chiefs, Kings of Leon – 'Holy Roller Novocaine' and 'Pyro' and some other songs I don't recall in the middle of complete quietness, like out of the blue when I was walking towards and bathroom and back. Thankfully, I didn't bump into anyone I knew that could pronounce me loony.

Sure I can account for a lot of time when I register zero brain activity and general zombieness but today took that strange feeling to the limit. I was doing everything from buying tickets and crossing the road, to perfectig my QuarkXpress and talking to people very mechanically. I've never felt this detached from my body, it's almost as if I was observing myself moving about on a perfectly normal day from a distance. The entire point of the day seemed to return to the bed. Funnily enough, now that I'm two feet away, it suddenly doesn't seem inviting.

I left most of brain behind when I got off the bed in the morning, taking with me just enough to make it through the day safely, to guarantee an existence. I have every intention of sleeping in tomorrow and coming close to the 9-hour mark I'm comfortable with. I'd love to dream some kind of weird fantasy involving a young naked Will Smith and the Himalayas but my best dreams have never happened after being very sleep-deprived.

I've allowed this to become way longer than intended so I think I'll go hug my pillow now. Night folks.