It is often painfully timetaking to clean and place glassware and crockery back in the cupboard after a party, especially if the maid is particularly unwell on the party day.
One has to take each piece and wash individually with utmost care, to avoid breaking.
There are a few common ways of washing and maintaining these expensive and carefully preserved items.
Washing
1. Have the following ready before you begin with washing:
a. Liquid (crockery) washing soap
b. Wide and shallow tub (if available) or any wide and shallow vessel
c. Washing sponge
d. Soft Towel
e. A bottle of white vinegar
f. Warm water
2. Pour warm water into the tub and add a spoonful of liquid soap. Ensure that it gathers enough lather. Add more soap, if needed.
3. Place each item carefully into the tub ensuring you do not break any item.
4. Soak them for half and hour.
5. Use the sponge to scrub grease/food particles gently.
Rinsing
Once your washing is done, rinse each item in fresh water.
Vinegar treatment
1. Vinegar adds to the sparkle, so it is a good way of shining your precious ware. Pour a tablespoon of vinegar into a bowl and mix it with warm or fresh water.
2. Soak the towel to absorb this vinegar water. Squeeze out excess water and wipe each piece with this towel.
Drying
Once you have completed with your wiping, leave all the items to dry under sun/fan/open air. Note: Do not replace the glassware or crockery in the cupboard until they are completely dry. They give out a foul smell because of dampness.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Individual vs Society
What is more important? Individual or Society?
It is often a tricky question. As human beings, we long to belong and yet hope to preserve our individuality with utmost passion.
There was a time when stages were set to play out a complete drama with individuals watching the dictats of society and then we have also seen individuals acting upon their own innate beliefs and idiosyncracies.
What is difficult is to create an eclectic world. Often one is shadowed by the other or one is sacrificed for the other.
It is often a tricky question. As human beings, we long to belong and yet hope to preserve our individuality with utmost passion.
There was a time when stages were set to play out a complete drama with individuals watching the dictats of society and then we have also seen individuals acting upon their own innate beliefs and idiosyncracies.
What is difficult is to create an eclectic world. Often one is shadowed by the other or one is sacrificed for the other.
Some funny English words
Longest Interesting Words in English
The English language has a list of longest words that make them a part of this interesting words list. A list of interesting especially the longest interesting words.
Floccinaucinihilipilification: To describe something worthless.
Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis: According to Oxford English Dictionary, a factitious word alleged to mean 'a lung disease caused by the inhalation of very fine silica dust, causing inflammation in the lungs.'
Honorificabilitudinitatibus: This long word was coined by Shakespeare which means 'the state of being able to achieve honors'.
Antidisestablishmentarianism: This is the longest non-coined and non-technical English word which was found in 19th to oppose the 'disestablishment of the Church of England as the state church of England'.
Refer http://www.buzzle.com/articles/interesting-words-list-of-interesting-words-in-english.html
The English language has a list of longest words that make them a part of this interesting words list. A list of interesting especially the longest interesting words.
Floccinaucinihilipilification: To describe something worthless.
Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis: According to Oxford English Dictionary, a factitious word alleged to mean 'a lung disease caused by the inhalation of very fine silica dust, causing inflammation in the lungs.'
Honorificabilitudinitatibus: This long word was coined by Shakespeare which means 'the state of being able to achieve honors'.
Antidisestablishmentarianism: This is the longest non-coined and non-technical English word which was found in 19th to oppose the 'disestablishment of the Church of England as the state church of England'.
Refer http://www.buzzle.com/articles/interesting-words-list-of-interesting-words-in-english.html
Friday, October 30, 2009
Bhains ke aage been bajana
Being an avid net surfer, I stumbled upon Boloji.com one day, where I happened to read the meanings of ‘Jiski laathi uska bhains’ and ‘Bhains ke aage been bajaana’ in English.
I got a little nostalgic. I remembered how my teacher would make us repeat ‘muharavas’ or ‘kahavats’ with their meanings again and again during our Hindi classes. Those days, teaching was not as exponentially experimental as it is today. We learnt everything in the same boring and traditional manner, where the instructor/teacher was expected to have a motor mouth which by the way, was considered a plus unlike today. Ironically, the students were expected to perceive teachers as epitomes of silence or reservation. Most teachers loved their own voices. They spoke and spoke --- like I do today, which I guess, is a fallout of that training. When the class ended, the teacher would go and tell the teacher of the next section that we were a bunch of non-responsive children, fit only for a silent prayer service. Considering our class was one helluva class of monkeys, the ill informed lady had trouble in hand. But I must say, I always marvelled at the teacher’s oratorial power - (read - vocal power) that kept our class silent during her sessions!
One cheeky ‘miss-somebody’ suggested that it was time we let our teacher know that our muhavaras were well in place and that there was no need to create a ‘phata gramaphone’ of us that repeats the meanings a zillion times. She had the nerve to call a meeting which by no means was to be taken lightly. For me, it was something unfathomable. I was always this good child who hated making fun of my Gurus. Having been ingrained by my parents that Vidya comes to those who respect their Gurus, I declined being part of the unruly group of silly, spoilt brats.
Well, no one really bothered me thereafter, thankfully!
Time passed. One day the intercom beemed. The principal announced that with the onset of winter, practices for sporting activities would begin. There would be two months of rigorous workouts before the annual sports meet. One of my classmates and friend was participating in the prelims of two events and the march past, like most of us. She had to spend a good 1 hour everyday practicing both at home and in the school after dismissal. Being her friend, it was obvious that I wanted her to win in the events she had selected. No one was sure which side the breeze would blow on the D day. There were too many champions vying to qualify for the next round. Besides, there was a hitch--- some of this teacher’s favourites were there too. We called them the ‘crammers’ of the class who spent most of their time cramming and plotting against the others, or the real champions. Most of my classmates disliked this coterie of 4. They could have utilised their time in better strategies, I felt. Knowing them full well, I somehow felt that there may be some politicking in the end and my friend may not be able to make it to the prelims honourably. But perseverance was what I believed in. I kept encouraging her.
As days passed, the foursome's power seemed too well known. They were ubiquitous. Their names figured on top in all the events they had selected. They even got special permission to participate in 2 more events, thanks to this teacher’s efforts. This infuriated the others since it was against the rule. My friend had one last hope…to win the 400 meters relay or forget about sports. She got more and more diffident with time.
Seeing her plight, I went upto a senior friend of mine who was a thoroughbred where sporting activities were concerned, and explained my friend’s problem. Being our senior and avid sports person, I knew our didi could give my friend some valuable tips. During our discussions, didi said that she had found something going wrong in all the events that were handled by 'our' teacher. She was shocked to know that some girls were allowed to participate in more than two events despite the rule. She asked my friend if she was ready to participate in Kabaddi as well. My friend was more than willing but what about the rule? She said.. ‘Chuck the rule! It has already been flouted. What is the problem if you participate in one more event? After all, you are doing it when a new rule has been set!! And yes, this time, for Kabaddi, you must use ‘Bhains ke aage been bajaana’ as your chant or refrain. You need to fit that well into the game. Do practice using that. If these ladies are upto something you can do something too. Remember, you can do it ‘your way’ now. The tables are turning so make the most of it. Distract the team with these lines especially when the ‘teacher’ is around. For the 400 mts relay, keep chanting ‘Jiski Laathi Uska Bhains.’
In those days, all school sporting activities were held in the nearby stadium. Our teachers had allotted the seating arrangements for each class in the pavilion.
After the march past, drills and other such event practices, the qualifier events to enter the semi finals began. I parked myself in the ideal place in the pavilion from where I could have a good view of Kabaddi and the 400 meters relay.
Some of my other friends joined in to cheer the participants of the track and field events. The much awaited 400 meters relay began amidst the din of the cheering crowd. My friend gave me a slight smile from the track as if to say, ‘wait till I qualify.’ I was surprised to see her new found confidence. I waved in response and smiled.
On your mark,---get set and the whistle blew! My friend (the first one to hold the baton), ran as if the world would end if she did not. She kept chanting ‘Jiski laathi uska Bhains’ with great felicity and quite loudly too so that everyone could hear, especially our teacher who stood near the tracks, ostensibly to maintain discipline. The progress of the race seemed good for my friend. She was ahead of the other teams. Within minutes, she handed the baton to the next person who continued the race.
When the race ended, some teachers gathered near the finishing line. There was some commotion. Some were seen arguing with the sports department of the school. Our teacher, as expected was there too. We wanted to have a better view of what was happening so we came down to the field. One of the foursome had complained that my friend had been distracting her on the tracks by saying something stupid… that it was meant to insult her in some way…and so she went on and on.
The arguments went on for sometime and then my friend was called by the sports master. With an innocent face, she said, ‘Sir I am so sorry if this has distracted my friend but my intention was to boost my inner spirits before the race. You see, the baton reminded me of my teacher…er..I mean…the muhavara she taught, and considering our teacher makes us chant the muhavaras a million times a day, I thought I must use it on the field too. It gives me an amazing feeling sir and the effect is that my team has won.’ The sports master looked confused but he could not detain her or disqualify her on any grounds.
He turned to my teacher and said, ‘Madam, I think we are making a mountain out of a mole hill. This girl has not flouted any rule applicable to this event so let us not waste time discussing this.’ The matter ended there and my friend and her team were cheered again.
The foursome’s confidence level seemed to be at its ebb. We were all happy for our friends and ran to congratulate them. My friend told me that she was now a little nervous because the next event, Kabaddi, was not something she could pride herself on. Didi came our rescue. She assured that nothing could go wrong if the strategies were well in place. More than brawns, we needed brains to tackle the stupid competitors and the teacher who did not understand the game well.
Encouraged, my friend moved to the field. When the game began, a huge crowd gathered near the field. Kabbaddi..kabaddi…. kabaddi kabaddi----it went on. When my friend’s turn came, she began her ‘Bhains ke aage been bajaana, bhains ke aage been bajaana’ much to everyone’s surprise. The amused crowd followed suit. ‘Bhains ke aage been bajaana…bhains ke aage been bajaana…’ The school band too joined in….the drummer yelled… bhains ke aage been bajaana…dhum dhum….bhains ke aaage been bajaana.. dhum dhum ….within minutes, the game was over! My friend’s team won again. The crowd cheered, many of whom were part of our squad. They lifted and threw my friend up in the air. She had finally qualified for the semi finals. The knocked out team was crest fallen. The notorious members had little to do but scream…cheating cheating…!
My friend looked at them and said, ‘you get what you deserve, but nowhere does it say we cheated!
You want to know what happened in the finals? You guessed it right! My friend’s team won the trophy. They had changed some ‘strategies’ and this time, to everyone’s surprise, our teacher was with the real champions. Besides, she was highly pleased with my friend and her team for taking ‘muhavaras to the sports field’. Little did she know that we had been digging at her in this whole exercise. The cheeky miss someone, thoroughly amused, was heard saying, ‘Agar Bhains ke saamne been bajate rahe to thak jayenge. Vo naachne wali nahin! Let us now leave it at that. Kam se kam, humara kaam toh hua ...aur (with a twinkle)..humne vakya bhi bana liya!!!’
I got a little nostalgic. I remembered how my teacher would make us repeat ‘muharavas’ or ‘kahavats’ with their meanings again and again during our Hindi classes. Those days, teaching was not as exponentially experimental as it is today. We learnt everything in the same boring and traditional manner, where the instructor/teacher was expected to have a motor mouth which by the way, was considered a plus unlike today. Ironically, the students were expected to perceive teachers as epitomes of silence or reservation. Most teachers loved their own voices. They spoke and spoke --- like I do today, which I guess, is a fallout of that training. When the class ended, the teacher would go and tell the teacher of the next section that we were a bunch of non-responsive children, fit only for a silent prayer service. Considering our class was one helluva class of monkeys, the ill informed lady had trouble in hand. But I must say, I always marvelled at the teacher’s oratorial power - (read - vocal power) that kept our class silent during her sessions!
One cheeky ‘miss-somebody’ suggested that it was time we let our teacher know that our muhavaras were well in place and that there was no need to create a ‘phata gramaphone’ of us that repeats the meanings a zillion times. She had the nerve to call a meeting which by no means was to be taken lightly. For me, it was something unfathomable. I was always this good child who hated making fun of my Gurus. Having been ingrained by my parents that Vidya comes to those who respect their Gurus, I declined being part of the unruly group of silly, spoilt brats.
Well, no one really bothered me thereafter, thankfully!
Time passed. One day the intercom beemed. The principal announced that with the onset of winter, practices for sporting activities would begin. There would be two months of rigorous workouts before the annual sports meet. One of my classmates and friend was participating in the prelims of two events and the march past, like most of us. She had to spend a good 1 hour everyday practicing both at home and in the school after dismissal. Being her friend, it was obvious that I wanted her to win in the events she had selected. No one was sure which side the breeze would blow on the D day. There were too many champions vying to qualify for the next round. Besides, there was a hitch--- some of this teacher’s favourites were there too. We called them the ‘crammers’ of the class who spent most of their time cramming and plotting against the others, or the real champions. Most of my classmates disliked this coterie of 4. They could have utilised their time in better strategies, I felt. Knowing them full well, I somehow felt that there may be some politicking in the end and my friend may not be able to make it to the prelims honourably. But perseverance was what I believed in. I kept encouraging her.
As days passed, the foursome's power seemed too well known. They were ubiquitous. Their names figured on top in all the events they had selected. They even got special permission to participate in 2 more events, thanks to this teacher’s efforts. This infuriated the others since it was against the rule. My friend had one last hope…to win the 400 meters relay or forget about sports. She got more and more diffident with time.
Seeing her plight, I went upto a senior friend of mine who was a thoroughbred where sporting activities were concerned, and explained my friend’s problem. Being our senior and avid sports person, I knew our didi could give my friend some valuable tips. During our discussions, didi said that she had found something going wrong in all the events that were handled by 'our' teacher. She was shocked to know that some girls were allowed to participate in more than two events despite the rule. She asked my friend if she was ready to participate in Kabaddi as well. My friend was more than willing but what about the rule? She said.. ‘Chuck the rule! It has already been flouted. What is the problem if you participate in one more event? After all, you are doing it when a new rule has been set!! And yes, this time, for Kabaddi, you must use ‘Bhains ke aage been bajaana’ as your chant or refrain. You need to fit that well into the game. Do practice using that. If these ladies are upto something you can do something too. Remember, you can do it ‘your way’ now. The tables are turning so make the most of it. Distract the team with these lines especially when the ‘teacher’ is around. For the 400 mts relay, keep chanting ‘Jiski Laathi Uska Bhains.’
In those days, all school sporting activities were held in the nearby stadium. Our teachers had allotted the seating arrangements for each class in the pavilion.
After the march past, drills and other such event practices, the qualifier events to enter the semi finals began. I parked myself in the ideal place in the pavilion from where I could have a good view of Kabaddi and the 400 meters relay.
Some of my other friends joined in to cheer the participants of the track and field events. The much awaited 400 meters relay began amidst the din of the cheering crowd. My friend gave me a slight smile from the track as if to say, ‘wait till I qualify.’ I was surprised to see her new found confidence. I waved in response and smiled.
On your mark,---get set and the whistle blew! My friend (the first one to hold the baton), ran as if the world would end if she did not. She kept chanting ‘Jiski laathi uska Bhains’ with great felicity and quite loudly too so that everyone could hear, especially our teacher who stood near the tracks, ostensibly to maintain discipline. The progress of the race seemed good for my friend. She was ahead of the other teams. Within minutes, she handed the baton to the next person who continued the race.
When the race ended, some teachers gathered near the finishing line. There was some commotion. Some were seen arguing with the sports department of the school. Our teacher, as expected was there too. We wanted to have a better view of what was happening so we came down to the field. One of the foursome had complained that my friend had been distracting her on the tracks by saying something stupid… that it was meant to insult her in some way…and so she went on and on.
The arguments went on for sometime and then my friend was called by the sports master. With an innocent face, she said, ‘Sir I am so sorry if this has distracted my friend but my intention was to boost my inner spirits before the race. You see, the baton reminded me of my teacher…er..I mean…the muhavara she taught, and considering our teacher makes us chant the muhavaras a million times a day, I thought I must use it on the field too. It gives me an amazing feeling sir and the effect is that my team has won.’ The sports master looked confused but he could not detain her or disqualify her on any grounds.
He turned to my teacher and said, ‘Madam, I think we are making a mountain out of a mole hill. This girl has not flouted any rule applicable to this event so let us not waste time discussing this.’ The matter ended there and my friend and her team were cheered again.
The foursome’s confidence level seemed to be at its ebb. We were all happy for our friends and ran to congratulate them. My friend told me that she was now a little nervous because the next event, Kabaddi, was not something she could pride herself on. Didi came our rescue. She assured that nothing could go wrong if the strategies were well in place. More than brawns, we needed brains to tackle the stupid competitors and the teacher who did not understand the game well.
Encouraged, my friend moved to the field. When the game began, a huge crowd gathered near the field. Kabbaddi..kabaddi…. kabaddi kabaddi----it went on. When my friend’s turn came, she began her ‘Bhains ke aage been bajaana, bhains ke aage been bajaana’ much to everyone’s surprise. The amused crowd followed suit. ‘Bhains ke aage been bajaana…bhains ke aage been bajaana…’ The school band too joined in….the drummer yelled… bhains ke aage been bajaana…dhum dhum….bhains ke aaage been bajaana.. dhum dhum ….within minutes, the game was over! My friend’s team won again. The crowd cheered, many of whom were part of our squad. They lifted and threw my friend up in the air. She had finally qualified for the semi finals. The knocked out team was crest fallen. The notorious members had little to do but scream…cheating cheating…!
My friend looked at them and said, ‘you get what you deserve, but nowhere does it say we cheated!
You want to know what happened in the finals? You guessed it right! My friend’s team won the trophy. They had changed some ‘strategies’ and this time, to everyone’s surprise, our teacher was with the real champions. Besides, she was highly pleased with my friend and her team for taking ‘muhavaras to the sports field’. Little did she know that we had been digging at her in this whole exercise. The cheeky miss someone, thoroughly amused, was heard saying, ‘Agar Bhains ke saamne been bajate rahe to thak jayenge. Vo naachne wali nahin! Let us now leave it at that. Kam se kam, humara kaam toh hua ...aur (with a twinkle)..humne vakya bhi bana liya!!!’
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Hari's Spoon
The other day, I had to buy my meal in the office so it took me around 10 minutes to stand in the queue to get my lunch and… another 10 minutes to get a spoon.
It so happens that whenever I go to the spoon stand, I find it empty. People grab spoons from the stand even before they decide to purchase their meal. Such is the rush near the spoon stand. Sometimes, they take more than one. This has led to shortage of spoons in the office. On complaining to the concerned authorities, it was revealed to us that people even throw away these steel spoons into the garbage bin as if they were plastic use-and-throw ones; hence, the shortage!
I wondered if I must wait at the stand or go the Indian way of soiling my fingers and licking them. Just then, my colleague Hari called me on my cell phone. He said he had just grabbed a table for all of us (.. includes other colleagues). I told him that I was waiting for a new set of spoons to arrive at the stand.
After 10 minutes, the spoons arrived. I grabbed the smallest one that suited my need. By the way, most of the spoons in the office are more like table spoons than tea spoons. Some can even be substituted for soup spoons.
So…I felt quite triumphant at having got the perfect spoon for the day. Hari looked at the meal spread on the plate and expressed his desire to taste some. He picked up a spoonful of chitrana and put it into his mouth. I looked a little shocked and frowned. He seemed to understand that I was a little paranoid about using the same spoon used by another without washing it altleast once. He quickly gave me his spoon that he had got from his home with his lunch box.
His spoon was good enough for me. It was a beautiful spoon with a highly ornate stem. When the others joined us, we went about our lunch as usual, chit-chatting, laughing at silly jokes and sharing food.
When it was time to give away the plates to the washing department, I had conveniently forgotten all about Hari’s spoon. As usual, the spoon went with the plate for washing. A minute or two later, Hari came to me asking for his spoon.
Oyela! I shreaked. The spoon is gone! Hari looked shocked and confused or maybe.. a little furious. I just did not know how to apologise or make good for what I had just done. I somehow felt that a spoon was not something that he would die for, but this, well, may be a spoon worth searching for. So there I began,…Operation Spoon Search!
I ran to the washing department and explained my problem. They were too busy or too irritated to even answer me in a coherent manner. I then decided to search for it myself. I went round to check the vat where soiled spoons were dumped. It did not seem to be there. I searched among the washed spoons, again, it was not there…came to the spoon stand..not there again…what should I do?
Tired and upset, I went back to Hari and asked him to accompany me to identify his spoon from those lots…in case I had not noticed it. Hari knew his spoon well and was sure that the spoon did not figure among the others.
I then promised Hari that I would buy him a new spoon. He guffawed at what I had just said as if that was an impossible task. He said, ‘I don’t even want the same spoon now. I was just having fun and was testing you! Knowing you well by now, I knew that you would take this one seriously too. Madam, teacher ji (this is what he calls me..), stop taking small things seriously in life. Life has more serious issues to ponder about!! In any case, I had already told everyone here that they should not be surprised if the spoon was gone!’ Man, was that some laughter? I felt so stupid. By now, even the others had joined in to have a hearty laugh at my expense. They had found a good reason to rag me the whole day!
It so happens that whenever I go to the spoon stand, I find it empty. People grab spoons from the stand even before they decide to purchase their meal. Such is the rush near the spoon stand. Sometimes, they take more than one. This has led to shortage of spoons in the office. On complaining to the concerned authorities, it was revealed to us that people even throw away these steel spoons into the garbage bin as if they were plastic use-and-throw ones; hence, the shortage!
I wondered if I must wait at the stand or go the Indian way of soiling my fingers and licking them. Just then, my colleague Hari called me on my cell phone. He said he had just grabbed a table for all of us (.. includes other colleagues). I told him that I was waiting for a new set of spoons to arrive at the stand.
After 10 minutes, the spoons arrived. I grabbed the smallest one that suited my need. By the way, most of the spoons in the office are more like table spoons than tea spoons. Some can even be substituted for soup spoons.
So…I felt quite triumphant at having got the perfect spoon for the day. Hari looked at the meal spread on the plate and expressed his desire to taste some. He picked up a spoonful of chitrana and put it into his mouth. I looked a little shocked and frowned. He seemed to understand that I was a little paranoid about using the same spoon used by another without washing it altleast once. He quickly gave me his spoon that he had got from his home with his lunch box.
His spoon was good enough for me. It was a beautiful spoon with a highly ornate stem. When the others joined us, we went about our lunch as usual, chit-chatting, laughing at silly jokes and sharing food.
When it was time to give away the plates to the washing department, I had conveniently forgotten all about Hari’s spoon. As usual, the spoon went with the plate for washing. A minute or two later, Hari came to me asking for his spoon.
Oyela! I shreaked. The spoon is gone! Hari looked shocked and confused or maybe.. a little furious. I just did not know how to apologise or make good for what I had just done. I somehow felt that a spoon was not something that he would die for, but this, well, may be a spoon worth searching for. So there I began,…Operation Spoon Search!
I ran to the washing department and explained my problem. They were too busy or too irritated to even answer me in a coherent manner. I then decided to search for it myself. I went round to check the vat where soiled spoons were dumped. It did not seem to be there. I searched among the washed spoons, again, it was not there…came to the spoon stand..not there again…what should I do?
Tired and upset, I went back to Hari and asked him to accompany me to identify his spoon from those lots…in case I had not noticed it. Hari knew his spoon well and was sure that the spoon did not figure among the others.
I then promised Hari that I would buy him a new spoon. He guffawed at what I had just said as if that was an impossible task. He said, ‘I don’t even want the same spoon now. I was just having fun and was testing you! Knowing you well by now, I knew that you would take this one seriously too. Madam, teacher ji (this is what he calls me..), stop taking small things seriously in life. Life has more serious issues to ponder about!! In any case, I had already told everyone here that they should not be surprised if the spoon was gone!’ Man, was that some laughter? I felt so stupid. By now, even the others had joined in to have a hearty laugh at my expense. They had found a good reason to rag me the whole day!
Commuting by a Volvo bus in Bangalore
Yet again, my cab had changed and this would be the first day of commuting by the new cab. I had no clue what the next move of the transport department would be. Worried, I called up my cab mate from my area to check and confirm the whereabouts of the new driver. I did receive some assurance but on second thoughts, I decided to commute by a Volvo bus to office.
In Bangalore, Volvos are now pretty much a part of routine life of many office goers. On boarding a Volvo, you get a distinct feeling of peace till you disembark. If I have to take the Volvo, I do not mind the wait at the bus stop, the rush of the hoi – poloi (of which I am certainly a part) and the crankiness of speeding vehicles and speeding drivers.
Hoping to find a seat for myself, I boarded one such bus to Marathahalli. I did not quite realise that this was one jam-packed bus, teaming with people of all shapes, including the usual office goers, all rushing to reach on time. Since it was one of those general shift buses, this was to be expected. I pushed my way through to find myself some space to breath. The conductor shoved me to somewhere in the middle of the standing crowd. He shouted: footboard mele yaake nintirodu... olage banni!
It was difficult to view the outside or even who was in front of me, what with a midget height of 5 something… as expected, I felt quite dizzy!
I could do nothing since I was pinned among some large serious looking people. All I could do was to save my purse from being pick pocketed…well pick pockets can be everywhere you know, even among the decent crowds that travel by Volvos!
An apology or two here and there to someone else for stepping on someone else’s foot with a sheepish grin would make the co passengers provide a helpful hint as to whose foot it was that I had stepped on…then again with all this, as usual, some passing thoughts occurred to my mind: why do Indians bear so many children? What would happen to our country if the population increases at this rate? …and so I got lost in thoughts…
A sudden honk followed by a quick brake made the bus come to a crashing halt! It brought me out of my reverie. Apparently, two cars had collided in front of the bus and the owners (of those cars) were having an altercation over whose fault it was, making a whole line of vehicles behind us halt.
I could manage to see a policeman and some people making vain attempts to pacify the two men. The men seemed to go on with hurling insults and showing fisticuffs at each other. As if this was not enough, our driver too got down to do his bit of taming the car owners.
It was a typical Bangalore scenario.
Some passengers, now fed up of the confusion, were seen shifting uneasily. The ones that were sitting had better things to do. A young man to my left plugged-in earphones to listen to ‘his kind of music’ which, by the way, I saw was streaming from his mobile phone. Another man, a little older, seemed to be the cynosure of all eyes, with his Sam Pitroda type of beard. Most ladies in the bus, I noticed, took pleasure in throwing little glances in his direction making him fully aware of his triumph in the mustachio-make-do-mission! Two ladies on the right seemed to be happy with their incessant chatter, oblivious of the fact that the whole bus could easily hear what they were talking about. Incidentally, they were talking about how to stop pollution in Bangalore. I was tempted to tell them-- charity begins at home--- let us start with noise pollution!! A school boy on my extreme right, impatient by now, had started to consume food from his lunch box. There were others who seemed to be happy listening to the cacophony, with an occasional high-pitched Kannada song streaming from the FM radio that drowned the other noises in the bus. Some serious looking people in their envious last seats were by now fast asleep. They seemed to have an expression of---hell may break, but we cannot be woken up before our destinations!! A college goer near the entrance was trying his best to woo someone over the phone. In all, it seemed that reaching on time was not in everyone’s agenda right now. Everybody seemed to soak in the pleasures that came with Volvo buses—the AC, the chit-chats, the short naps, which by the way I call ‘snaps’ for a good reason; the oglings, the music, and the ‘et als’!!!
Time ran crazily and I was now getting the jitters. Will I reach on time? Something within me told me that I must disembark and start walking to office or catch an auto if possible. But I did not want to take chances just yet. I saw a few people in front of me clearing the passage. They were all getting down to walk or take other modes of transport from a little further from where the bus had halted. When the passage cleared, I realised I was in Agara. Good God, this means I am quite a distance from office now! The bus had halted in Agara for 20 minutes or so and by no means will move before a good 15 minutes.
After some time, exasperated, even the seated passengers began leaving the bus. The conductor told the two chatter-boxes to leave if they pleased, more out of irritation than anything else. The two ladies fretted and fumed and blurted something about inefficient transport system and eventually walked to the door. I had just been waiting for this! I am sure some might have even noticed a cunning smile on my face; I grabbed the seat and sighed in relief at having got a seat finally! I was too tired by now to show some courtesy to the old lady standing close to me.
Some 10 minutes later, the bus started to everyone’s relief. This was almost close to the time I had clocked! Those that had gone to sleep were jolted out of their slumber with the sudden jerk of the bus. Two of the sleepers looked puzzled. They were asking others if they had slept too long or if the bus had moved beyond their disembarking points.
A lady behind me had just been woken up by the conductor to pay the fare. Considering this to be a good opportunity, I asked the conductor how long it would take to reach me to Marathahalli. The conductor looked at me with an irritated and a stern expression on his face and said, ‘you are in a Volvo madam, not an ordinary bus.’ Taking cue and understanding the obvious puzzled expression on my face, he said, with a slight smile, ‘you are paying to reach faster than the other buses and we will try to make up for the lost time.’
I had a sigh of relief yet again.
When I reached Marathahalli, I realised, I had actually reached a little earlier than I thought. An autorickshaw couldn’t have taken me this fast. Besides, these days, the frequency of Volvo buses have also increased and are cheaper compared to autos.
In Bangalore, Volvos are now pretty much a part of routine life of many office goers. On boarding a Volvo, you get a distinct feeling of peace till you disembark. If I have to take the Volvo, I do not mind the wait at the bus stop, the rush of the hoi – poloi (of which I am certainly a part) and the crankiness of speeding vehicles and speeding drivers.
Hoping to find a seat for myself, I boarded one such bus to Marathahalli. I did not quite realise that this was one jam-packed bus, teaming with people of all shapes, including the usual office goers, all rushing to reach on time. Since it was one of those general shift buses, this was to be expected. I pushed my way through to find myself some space to breath. The conductor shoved me to somewhere in the middle of the standing crowd. He shouted: footboard mele yaake nintirodu... olage banni!
It was difficult to view the outside or even who was in front of me, what with a midget height of 5 something… as expected, I felt quite dizzy!
I could do nothing since I was pinned among some large serious looking people. All I could do was to save my purse from being pick pocketed…well pick pockets can be everywhere you know, even among the decent crowds that travel by Volvos!
An apology or two here and there to someone else for stepping on someone else’s foot with a sheepish grin would make the co passengers provide a helpful hint as to whose foot it was that I had stepped on…then again with all this, as usual, some passing thoughts occurred to my mind: why do Indians bear so many children? What would happen to our country if the population increases at this rate? …and so I got lost in thoughts…
A sudden honk followed by a quick brake made the bus come to a crashing halt! It brought me out of my reverie. Apparently, two cars had collided in front of the bus and the owners (of those cars) were having an altercation over whose fault it was, making a whole line of vehicles behind us halt.
I could manage to see a policeman and some people making vain attempts to pacify the two men. The men seemed to go on with hurling insults and showing fisticuffs at each other. As if this was not enough, our driver too got down to do his bit of taming the car owners.
It was a typical Bangalore scenario.
Some passengers, now fed up of the confusion, were seen shifting uneasily. The ones that were sitting had better things to do. A young man to my left plugged-in earphones to listen to ‘his kind of music’ which, by the way, I saw was streaming from his mobile phone. Another man, a little older, seemed to be the cynosure of all eyes, with his Sam Pitroda type of beard. Most ladies in the bus, I noticed, took pleasure in throwing little glances in his direction making him fully aware of his triumph in the mustachio-make-do-mission! Two ladies on the right seemed to be happy with their incessant chatter, oblivious of the fact that the whole bus could easily hear what they were talking about. Incidentally, they were talking about how to stop pollution in Bangalore. I was tempted to tell them-- charity begins at home--- let us start with noise pollution!! A school boy on my extreme right, impatient by now, had started to consume food from his lunch box. There were others who seemed to be happy listening to the cacophony, with an occasional high-pitched Kannada song streaming from the FM radio that drowned the other noises in the bus. Some serious looking people in their envious last seats were by now fast asleep. They seemed to have an expression of---hell may break, but we cannot be woken up before our destinations!! A college goer near the entrance was trying his best to woo someone over the phone. In all, it seemed that reaching on time was not in everyone’s agenda right now. Everybody seemed to soak in the pleasures that came with Volvo buses—the AC, the chit-chats, the short naps, which by the way I call ‘snaps’ for a good reason; the oglings, the music, and the ‘et als’!!!
Time ran crazily and I was now getting the jitters. Will I reach on time? Something within me told me that I must disembark and start walking to office or catch an auto if possible. But I did not want to take chances just yet. I saw a few people in front of me clearing the passage. They were all getting down to walk or take other modes of transport from a little further from where the bus had halted. When the passage cleared, I realised I was in Agara. Good God, this means I am quite a distance from office now! The bus had halted in Agara for 20 minutes or so and by no means will move before a good 15 minutes.
After some time, exasperated, even the seated passengers began leaving the bus. The conductor told the two chatter-boxes to leave if they pleased, more out of irritation than anything else. The two ladies fretted and fumed and blurted something about inefficient transport system and eventually walked to the door. I had just been waiting for this! I am sure some might have even noticed a cunning smile on my face; I grabbed the seat and sighed in relief at having got a seat finally! I was too tired by now to show some courtesy to the old lady standing close to me.
Some 10 minutes later, the bus started to everyone’s relief. This was almost close to the time I had clocked! Those that had gone to sleep were jolted out of their slumber with the sudden jerk of the bus. Two of the sleepers looked puzzled. They were asking others if they had slept too long or if the bus had moved beyond their disembarking points.
A lady behind me had just been woken up by the conductor to pay the fare. Considering this to be a good opportunity, I asked the conductor how long it would take to reach me to Marathahalli. The conductor looked at me with an irritated and a stern expression on his face and said, ‘you are in a Volvo madam, not an ordinary bus.’ Taking cue and understanding the obvious puzzled expression on my face, he said, with a slight smile, ‘you are paying to reach faster than the other buses and we will try to make up for the lost time.’
I had a sigh of relief yet again.
When I reached Marathahalli, I realised, I had actually reached a little earlier than I thought. An autorickshaw couldn’t have taken me this fast. Besides, these days, the frequency of Volvo buses have also increased and are cheaper compared to autos.
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