Cycling away to...

Not riding but diving …

I have written some posts about my friends in Kolhapur, laughing at their expense. Now let me write about myself. It must have been 2nd year or the third, I am not sure which. Like every college day, I was proceeding towards the college all alone, on my cycle. Just like a horse rider rides his horse in all his elegance, I rode the cycle, my hair flying in the wind. And then suddenly, it happened. One moment I was riding high speed on the cycle and the next moment, the cycle had suddenly come to a dead stop, the inertia launching my body through the air, the cycle falling below me to the wayside, and I felt everything happening in slow motion next. I felt myself flying through the air, I was approaching the ground, my hands trying to prevent the fall. But it was all in vain, the momentum was so high, I was sure I would certainly bang my head. In a split second, to prevent my nose or eyes getting injured, I raised my head, my chin hitting the road with a great force. Suddenly a few people passing by had come running towards me, picking me up, drops of blood dripping from my chin. Someone shouted, “bring some turmeric!”. Someone else managed to, and it was applied to my chin. As an afterthought, maybe that action had prevented infection in the wound. Anyway, I was escorted to the colony retired doctor, and first thing I asked, “will there be stitches? I don't want any.” And the kind aged lady doctor was kind enough not to suggest any stitches but prescribed lot of antibiotics. By this time most of my friends had joined, and as friends always do, started pulling my leg, even in that state. Later I found the reason for this accident. The front wheel bumper had got unscrewed , the mudguard had dislodged from its place, and had acted as a sudden break by entangling itself in the front wheel.

Let me tell you, the injury actually had deserved stitches for faster recovery, but since no stitches were put, the recovery took a long time requiring change in the dressing every day. And as I was still taking the antibiotics , I had lost my taste, my intake of food went down, and my stomach was always upset. I lost weight like anything, maybe I must have lost at least 10-12 kg. My aunt, my cousin brother, my vahini, who were my local caretakers, were highly worried and my parents were called immediately. They arrived from Mumbai the next day. I was taken to another doctor, and under the care of that doctor and the loving attention of my aunt and parents, I was on the path to recovery.

To this day, my friends enjoy pulling my leg on this incident and I still carry the scar under my chin, now hidden by the French beard.

Yatindra Tawde

The fishy tale

The fishy tale

It was some years after the Engineering course was completed and before most of us friends had married, except perhaps one or two. We had planned an overnight picnic to Marve beach, where we went by a rickety boat. There were about 6-7 of us. We reached by evening and had booked a room to stay. The evening was spent in frolicking on the beach and the night stretched beyond midnight in lot of friendly banter accompanied clinking of the glasses. The entire next day, being Sunday, was mostly by the sea, all of us enjoying getting drenched by the surf. Finally it was time to go home and we started back by bus. But before starting, one of our friends decided to get himself some edible souvenir in the form of dried fish. Now you know how fragrant the dried fish are! Some of us bluntly told him not to travel with us, but all this was friendly banter. Finally we got on the bus, our friend promptly occupied a window seat. And since the dried fish was being a nuisance to the other passengers olfactory nerves, our friend held out his hand, carrying his precious cargo in a plastic bag , outside the window, balancing the plastic bag on his little finger. Being very tired from our monkey antics on the beach, most of us slept soundly, through the uneventful journey. When we reached Malad railway station, all of us got down. And suddenly our friend realised that in his sleep, he had let go of his precious cargo. A few of the Malad cats were treated to unexpected feast that evening. And us friends…well we had one more story to be told between ourselves, each one adding his own mirch-masala, to the saga.

Yatindra Tawde

Ek bankla bane nyara

Ek ‘bank’la bane nyara

Bruce Springsteen proudly declared, “Born in the USA…I was born in the USA…”, and all Americans loved him. Why, teens all over the world loved him. We are born in India and are also very proud of this ancient bhumi. But where in India we are born, is also important for us. Being born in the north, south, east or west determines the characteristics of the person. Being born rich or poor brings its own challenges. Being born in which caste is important to the caste as well as to the nation. Any government form will ask so many things, caste, religion, language, state, city, taluka, zilla parishad, it goes on and on. And within families they also ask or discuss about the place of birth, whether in a hospital or at home. But a lady delivered in a bank last week and a new paradigm was established. Now, you are supposed to go to a bank either for withdrawal or for deposit but a new word got associated with the bank, called delivery. One day or the other it was bound to happen.

Since the last one month, the banks have become a the centre of attraction for all the denizens of India, whether rich or poor, irrespective of language, caste, creed, or religion. In fact, if any one from the house or office goes missing for a long time, no one misses him or her. For they are sure that the person would be found at  the nearest ATM or bank. And since so many people started spending so much time near the bank or the ATM, all the four stages of life, why, the very beginning and end of life itself, was bound to happen near the vicinity of the bank or ATM. Thus we had people falling in love in a line, entertaining each other to while away the time, and unfortunately losing their life, in the line of duty, all things, whether good or bad, started happening there. Not before long, some beautiful baby was bound to be delivered in the bank and it happened last week. I am sure some adventurous couple would get married outside, waiting in a line. Though I am not sure, how the Saat pheras would be taken by them. Perhaps they would make the pradakshina of the bank itself. They will surely find some bhatji in the line itself. He would be happy to kill two birds in one shot, withdraw from the bank, at the same time attend to his mantric duties.

But one thing is sure. Almost all banks had their small branches or ATM’s near to the hospitals for the benefit of the patients and their relatives, who could withdraw the required amount without having to go far away. Now the time has come for the hospitals to reciprocate this gesture, considering the high number of births and deaths which have started happening, people waiting for their own turn, whether to withdraw or to die. Each hospital should have its own ambulance giving live treatment then and there itself, to the millions waiting in the queue. Like every school has its own medical room, so too should a bank or the ATM.

Yatindra Tawde

Flat no. 808

Flat no. 808

Rahul and Deepa had recently shifted into the flat. After trying to find a place of their own for a long time, they had finally decided on this flat. It was spacious in spite of being a 1 BHK, it was on the top floor in a building of 8 stories, a terrace flat with a small terrace where Deepa could nurse her gardening passion. Flat no. 808! And in these expensive times, when even 1 BHK were in the range of Rs. 80 lakhs and above, they had got it for dirt cheap Rs. 65 lakhs. There was a reason. But no one told.

One day, early morning, Deepa had just woken up and was in the bathroom, brushing her teeth. Looking at herself in the mirror, with her dishevelled hair and heavy morning eyes, she was critical of her own looks. After brushing her teeth, she took the napkin from the hanger to wipe her face. And as she turned to leave the bathroom, for a moment she felt someone staring at her. She glanced into the mirror, the reflection glanced back at her. Shaking her head, she left the bathroom. The entire day, the string of tasks ensured that the morning uncomfortable feeling was soon forgotten.

The next morning, after brushing her teeth, as she turned to leave the bathroom, the same thing happened. This time as she glanced into the mirror, her own image, but frozen a few seconds back was staring at her! She felt all her energy drain out causing her feet to buckle, losing her balance, she stumbled out, screaming out Rahul’s name. Rahul, who was still enjoying his morning sleep, woke up with a start. As he rushed towards the bathroom, he saw Deepa quite shaken up and trembling. “What happened, Deepa?” , he asked, concern lit large upon his face. Still shaking Deepa could only stutter, “Mm…mirror!” Rahul pushed open the bathroom door…but the mirror was as normal a mirror can be. “Deepa, there's nothing here. Come here”. But she refused. Gently, Rahul got hold of her hand and guided her towards the bathroom. Both looked into the mirror…but there was nothing. Still Deepa was clinging to Rahul for comfort. Rahul, then took her to the kitchen and made her sit in a chair. “Today I will make tea for you”, and so saying, proceeded to fix up two refreshing cups of tea for themselves. By now, Deepa had got hold of her nerves and like every morning, she got into the task of making their morning breakfast.
Rahul went to the bathroom to get ready for the long day ahead. He finished his brushing and like always, started shaving. He worked up a good lather on his face and after holding the razor in the warm running water, he started shaving. First the right cheek and then his left, he started shaving on the underside of his face, looking at himself in the mirror. Suddenly, he saw his own reflection getting hold of its neck with one hand. He felt himself choking while his reflection proceeded to cut its own neck arteries with slow and deliberate cutting with the razor, the blood spurting out causing the red colour to eventually blind his eyes, as he lost consciousness and he slumped to the floor, darkness enveloping his entire being.

“Breakfast is ready, Rahul” Deepa was calling out to her loving husband. But why was he taking so long? Finally she came to the bathroom to check on him. She banged on the door, it just creaked open. She could feel no movement inside. She pushed at the door and was aghast to see Rahul's body sprawled across the bathroom floor. She cried out her husbands name, but there was no response. With shaking hands she placed her fingers on the throat to feel any pulse…there was none. For a moment she collapsed on Rahul’s body, then picking herself up, she rushed towards the main door and started banging on the neighbours door, all the while shrieking with pain and fear. Her neighbour immediately called the nearby doctor as well as the police. The post mortem showed that Rahul had died due to severe heart attack.

The gossip in the society has now got louder about the revenge of the murdered woman in flat no. 808, murdered by her own husband inside the bathroom. She had seen herself being cruelly asphyxiated by the strong arms of her violent husband, in that very mirror. Her angry soul could not take revenge on her own husband since he died within a month of her murder. So It had taken her revenge on the second pair, who dared to occupy her flat and who come in front of her mirror daily, the mirror which is now her residence. This was the third death in the flat within the last three years.

Deepa has since shifted to her mother’s place and put an ad on the net, to sell off her flat at a dirt cheap value of Rs. 50 lacs. And no, she does not mention anything about the mirror or her husband’s death in the bathroom, to prospective buyers. Ranganath and his wife, Roopa are very interested in this cheap flat, which seems to be a dream come true in these expensive times. Today they are sitting with Deepa to finalise the transaction to their dream home. Or a nightmare!

Yatindra Tawde

Ventilator - a memorable experience

I must say , this movie or rather, an emotional and enjoyable experience, is a great story woven by Rajesh Mapuskar. Right from the start, he manages to grab our attention and sucks you in and makes you a part of his story.  The movie starts with Ashutosh Gowarikar, who stars as a part of the film fraternity, and soon a whole range of characters are introduced. The way the story unfolds, Rajesh Mapuskar, the script writer, has hit a sixer. With such a serious subject and with most of the movie taking place inside a hospital, the movie maintains its humorous vein till the last few minutes of the movie. With more than a hundred characters, all characters have been given memorable dialogues which keep you entertained, and how! And the movie manages to capture the minor issues which are present in any Konkan family, which might appear minor to you but are very important to that particular person, in a very humorous way. While someone is worried about the ensuing Ganpati festival, someone else is worried about the mangoes, someone is worried about toilets whereas someone else wants to advance in his political career. Each one has got his own reason, why he wants the person on the ventilator to survive. But finally, it is the story of a father and his son, their differences and how it takes a serious illness to make the son realise the true worth of his father. A father who has never praised his son in public, almost ignored his existence but at the same time, a father who put in all efforts to save his pre born son, a father who took the one percent chance to save his son’s life. It is also a parallel story of a son who doesn't realise the love of his father till this emergency brings it to the surface. Excellent acting by Jitendra Joshi, Ashutosh Gowarikar, superb character of Nikhil Ratnaparkhi, and the entire ensemble cast of the film make it enjoyable and memorable. I don't know many of the actors in this film, but was happy that even Unknown faces are so capable in Marathi cinema. Hats off to Priyanka Chopra for supporting and producing this gem of a movie. She has dedicated this film to her late father who enthusiastically supported her in following and realising her dreams.

See this film to enjoy and see what really is the caliber of Marathi cinema which has seen so many gems like Bal Gandharva, Katyar kaljat ghusli, Nat Samrath, Happy journey, and so many more in recent times.
Yatindra Tawde

Getting ready for the battle

Got up in the morning with a prayer on my mind. Read through as many positive attitude messages as possible. Had a sacred bath similar to the one we have on first day of Diwali. Prayed to all the crore gods. Wife and mother put a holy tika on my forehead. Unsheathed the battle weapon, the ATM card. Put some vermillion and turmeric on it. Now I am off to the battlefield...please wish me luck friends.

Decided to be a foot soldier. Placed the right leg out of the castle first. Like Sachin Tendulkar, when he used to come out to bat, I too looked at the Sun, crinkling my eyes. Reached the battlefield, which is very near to my castle. But alas, all the ATM’s were closed and I could make out that, no matter, how well I fought, I would not be able to subjugate them to release their riches. This was a minor setback to a warrior like me. I made a strategic retreat to my territory. But it was only to strategise my future course of action. I decided to mount a chariot to mount my offensive since the battlefield had shifted to far off places. I wanted to conserve my energies, to fight the battle elsewhere. Hence the chariot was best to save valuable time and my energy, which would otherwise have been spent in reaching the battlefield on foot. Like a mercenary, I was on the lookout for other warriors like me. Many of the ATM’s were closed hence my urge to fight got longer. My patience running out and my weapon, the ATM card, itching to come out of its sheath, I espied lot of other warriors hovering at one location. This was it!! The moment I had been waiting for, had arrived. But here I had to change my tactics, first I had to get rid of my chariot. Leaving it at the nearest stable, I made my way on foot once again. Here the rules of engagement were different. Here patience and slow movements were more important than any aggressive posturing. Before my eyes, stretching into the horizon, were many other warriors like me, who were showing the same patience, which I had stressed upon. There was no shouting but only discussions and deliberations, on how the supreme leader had played his hand, in the game of chess. Inspite of so many warriors on the battlefield, all had only admiring words for the supreme leader. We were but, warriors in his war. My progress was slow but steady. As I reached near the mouth of the ATM, my adrenaline shot up, and so did my blood pressure. Finally I reached the monster, that is the ATM machine, unsheathed my ATM card, and in the same clean and quick motion, stabbed the card into the belly of the red monster. With great whining noises, the monster started vibrating. Half the battle won, I then tickled all the pressure points on its belly, and was successful in provoking it, to release its bodily papers, which are very important for us humans. As those papers, printed very beautifully with 100 denominations, fell into my palm, I let out my war cry,

“Yeh bhi Hakka…woh bhi Hakka…duniya Pagal…hai albatta…
Yeh bhi Hakka…woh bhi Hakka…duniya Pagal…hai albatta…baag lagaya Pakka…”

Then , ignoring the quizzical looks of my fellow warriors, I returned back to my castle to the blowing of trumpets and admiring looks of my better half.

Yatindra Tawde

Roller coasters, perhaps...

Drove on the Mumbai Goa highway from Mangaon. The road engineers have succeeded in making the driving experience as near as possible to a roller coaster ride. I think the Americans thought about roller coasters only after travelling on the stretch near Wadkhal naka. You will believe only after experiencing it. It seems they had been given the task to replicate the moon surface on the face of India and they achieved it with flying colours. And my maruti car took all the punishment with smiling bumpers. More such journeys will make me ready for all old age problems like arthritis, spondylitis, etc. And I can already see a doctor smiling all the way to the bank. Riding on rough seas will be much easier than this. Kudos to the road contractors on giving  many livelihood solutions to so many people like doctors, car mechanics, etc. This must surely rank as the most entertaining highway in the whole world. Yes, a highway! You don't have to visit esselworld or Imagica.

"Kuch...  din toh gujariye hamare highway pe". And drive slowly, you might run over some of my bones, which fell off today.

Yatindra Tawde