Getting Things Done

Working on a schedule can be both a good thing and bad. I am currently reading a book called Getting Things Done by Allen David. I started reading it with reluctance but as I flipped through the pages, I found that he actually makes sense. It helped that some of his ideas were already part of my daily routine. When a popular book says the best way to do something is the way you do it, you do not put the book down because you already know the best methods but you keep on reading. We all love to be flattered. Who does not like compliments?

From reading 5 pages on the train to another 15 during lunch, I have intensified my reading. As I read on, I found areas where my methods had gone slack from my younger days. Things that used to work really well back then would work now too, but I had taken a lazy route on some of those. The book is helping me get back on track. So far, I have not hit a spot where he has said something which indicates I am doing something wrong. He goes on to tell me to keep going down the path I am on but to focus. I suppose it is easier to follow something when you are already on to it.

Reading the book has not only been insightful but confidence building, for me. It has been a pleasure knowing my methods are not only great but there are thousands of people out there who are reading about it and it is helping them. The first day I took it to work, a senior manager at work saw the book on my desk and told me how much he loved it. He said he had read it twice and thought it was fabulous. That was another important lesson I learnt, thanks to the book, but outside of the book. If only I had stuck to being myself and not tried to fit into mediocrity, I would have continued to be great. I tried too hard, I nearly failed and then I settled uncomfortably into mediocrity. 

That needs to be changed. The book is helping me do that. Of all self-help books I have read, this is one of the two most inspirational ones. The other one was just the opposite. It told me I was doing everything wrong. It taught me how to get it right. In their own way, both books have been a great influence on me. The other book is called Too Soon Old, Too Late Smart by Gordon Livingston. While GTD is a book my husband forced me to read, TSOTLS was a Christmas gift from my best friend that I forced myself to read because he gave it to me. Two of the greatest books I have ever read. I do not usually go back to books that I have read once... not for reference at least but I keep going back to these.

From scraping the crudeness that has crept into my methods and working a finesse into it, I have also been adopting the techniques in my life outside work. I did it once to combat a difficult emotional situation. I am doing it again now to cope with stress. Luckily for me, the husband has been with me on it. He, initially, humoured me because it was in the book he suggested I read. He had not quite implemented the methods in his life but I was making him do it. Now, he does it willing. He sees how it is working. He is pleased at how much less stress I am under, these days.

For someone who has the type of personality that thinks it is okay to take the trash out any time before the garbage truck comes and does not have to be done first thing in the morning, sticking to a time-boxed schedule is not quite easy. It is easy enough when I have to do that at work but so hard in the outside world. There are so many distractions and numerous things that need to get done. Hard is not impossible. Right?

This morning, I am working to a schedule that will get me to work at least an hour earlier than normal. This is to be my new practice. I am a bit concerned about staying within my time boundaries. a part of the mind was worried about the alarm going off. Yeah, right. I thought setting an alarm would take my mind off having to worry whether it was time yet but I was anxious of the dreaded bell ringing. I only hope it gets better with time. I am sure it will. I have done it before. I can do it again.

I Heart Music But...

I recently found out that music grows on you, when I borrowed someone's 5 favourite songs to listen to, while I worked. I did not quite get it the first time I heard the songs. As I listened to them again and again, I found that I liked them. Especially one of the songs. 

They say that the kind of person you are can be determined by the music you listen to. I tried to figure what kind of a person that made him but drew a blank. I have never really had one kind of music I have listened to. Right from listening to the same music that someone else in the family used to listen to (and enjoying them) to following my friends during my growing years, I have never really had a type of music preference. Of course, I have songs that I like and some that I do not but that is about it. That is why the radio works perfectly well for me. Somebody else (the radio jockey) picks a playlist he wants to play from. If it is a call-in program, there are heaps of people making up the playlist for me. If I do not like what they are playing, I can simply switch channels and listen to something else.

My moods also define the kind of music I like. Apparently, being moody and the moods defining music preferences is not a good enough excuse, to tell people that there isn't really one type of music you like. Too bad. They will just have to go without an excuse. I do not have a preference. Period. So, I was quite lost when I received an iPod Nano for my birthday last year. I mean, I loved it! It was my favourite colour and it has a screen too. It looks pretty and it is quite handy. My problem was that I did not quite know what songs to put on it. After a few stressful attempts at trying to pick one playlist or the other and having frustrating moments of not finding the sort of music I wanted to listen to, in my various moods, I decided that I would load the ipod with all sorts of music so that I could pick the songs based on what I felt like listening to. To me, it sounded like a great idea, at the time. Only later did I realize that it is how everyone else does it and I should have done that in the first place.

I have seen people looking at their phones/ipods while listening to music, in trains and buses and wondered why they kept changing their minds and not listen to one playlist. Turns out there is no such thing as one playlist. You fill up the player with thousands of songs that you like. You can fill it up with random songs or ones from other people or just something you have heard somewhere, it does not matter. My theory, that you only need to load it with songs that you really like, was flung out the window, the moment I realized this. Once you have done that, you pick songs that you like as you listen to them, one after another. Now, this is something I find really hard to get. Imagine having to keep choosing songs after each one is over! I like to make a quick list and then just let them play one after another. Having to make a choice again and again would kill me. It would stress me out immensely and take the joy out of listening to music, for me. In fact, I would probably spend more than half my journey on the train trying to pick the song that best suited my mood at the time! How awful would that be?

I guess my biggest problem is that I cannot just listen to music. I can listen to music in the background, while I am doing other things but to just stand or sit and listen to music is something I simply cannot do. I have attempted that in the past and ended up losing myself in a train of thoughts, completely blocking out the music in the bargain. The music player would have long stopped playing and I would have not noticed it at all. So, having to pick a song every 3 minutes or so would never work for me.

So, I stuck with my concept of an auto-scrolling playlist and finally made one, to play in my ipod nano. After having listened to the one fixed playlist for a little while, I got bored. I had to make another one. It was too much hard work and I did not have the time. Thus, the ipod nano was relegated to the background and stayed there for a long while. One day, I decided to get a few songs from a friend who liked 'country music'. I was going to make another attempt at the 'normal' way of listening to music on the ipod. As expected, it did not work for me. The ipod went back to the drawer and has not come out since then.

Yesterday, I got my best friend to list his 5 favourite songs. I have been listening to them since then, along with 5 of my own favourite songs. I would love to have put them in my ipod, to listen to, over the weekend. The only problem with that is that I cannot be bothered with the effort of connecting to a computer, make a list (because inevitably I will try to make a fresh list or organize the music in some way or the other) and refresh the ipod with the new songs. The ipod stayed in it's safe place. In the drawer. For now, online streaming music on my iPad will have to do. Then there is the radio on the iPad.

I'll be a hurricane, ripping up trees... 

Moving Houses

Moving houses can be a daunting task. When you’re in a different country, away from family and friends, even the modern technologies of developed countries do not make the task any more fun.

Two of my friends were in various stages of the moving process. One family has been looking for a house in various suburbs, without any luck. I cannot help but wonder why someone would be rejected for tenancy but they have been unlucky enough to experience that. The other family found their dream home within weeks of starting their search. Last Sunday was going to be their big move day. The husband decided that, between him and the wife, they would be able to manage just fine. They booked a trailer and a tri-wheel climbing hand trolley with wheels for the day. A couple of us friends decided to help them, in spite of protests that they would be able to manage by themselves.

I was picked up from my unit at 10 in the morning and we headed to Kennards to pick up the rentals. The first hurdle was getting the agency to accept a non-Aussie driving license as id and providing acceptable identification documents to supplement it. We had to drive home to bring some of the required documents. One of the guys at the store helped join the trailer to the car. Driving the trailer was supposed to be fairly simple, as long as you took long turns at the corners. Yeah sure, until you started to reverse! The trailer moved in the exact opposite direction of the car, swinging by the hinge. Considering how tricky parking a car in the reverse can get (for some of us, it is!), attempting that with a trailer was a near-impossible task. Eventually, we decided to leave the car + trailer parked across the street so we did not have to reverse park.

The boxes and some of the reasonably heavy stuff were easy to manage. The tri-wheel hand trolley was a marvel, in so far as bringing the washing machine, drier and some furniture were concerned. The refrigerator gave the guys a hard time but we eventually managed it all. Three trips and the move was complete, save for the little bits and pieces that they were going to move the next day. In some ways, it was fun. We reminisced about the times we have all had to move in the past. The new house was, obviously, a much nicer place than the old. We walked around, exploring the complex and sharing excitement over the various facilities it accorded.

The best part of day activities like this one, apart from the beer and pizza, are the aches and stains that remain at the end of the day, to speak of the hard work that has been put in. One of our friends, who was baby-sitting the couple’s kid, invited us over for dinner that night. Thank God for that! We exploded a few party poppers, listened to the stories of the kids’ days and chattered incessantly over a delicious South Indian dinner of peas fried rice, chicken curry and beer. Every one of us slept soundly that night. Either tired from the day’s hard work, from handling two hyperactive five-year old boys or, in the case of the boys, from playing all day long, we all had our reasons. 

Of course, the act of physically moving stuff we friends helped with, was only half the job done. The arduous task of packing and unpacking still remained to be done. The excitement of moving and the thrill of starting over should take care of any pain points in that area. I bet having a 5-year old helper makes a difference too!

I cannot wait to see their house once it has been set up. They have the loveliest balcony, huge and perfectly suited for a barbecue or a dinner-and-drinks party. Which, I bet, they will have. I need to make sure I have a free night on my calendar when that happens.

Lorna Jane's Evening Walk

She knew she had to do it. Self-motivation was not an easy thing and she had pushed it for over 6 months. Struggling to find another excuse today, she finally opened the door to the garage and looked at the shiny blue bike. She could not remember the key to the number lock. There was an excuse lying right there, waiting to be picked up and relished. She refused to give in. She called her husband and after a couple of tries, managed to unlock the bike. Lights, helmet, computer, all found easily enough. All she had to do was fill air in the tyres and take off. Easy peasy. Excitement built up. Eagerly, she fixed the little floor pump in and started pumping away. After 10 minutes of trying, she knew she had to give up. It was harder to give up than it was to find motivation.

Refusing to let that bog her down and having decided to get some fresh air anyway, she decided to go for a walk around the neighbourhood. It was another long overdue activity she had in mind. Atleast that will get done today, she thought. She started off with one particular street that had always intrigued her. As she kept walking, admiring the beautiful houses and taking a couple of pictures, her spirits lifted. She entered one street, exited at the end and entered the next. By the end of the third, she could not do it anymore. It was too depressing. The occasional sounds of music of laughter, the family in the balcony, the smell of home-cooked roast was too much to handle. 

She had stayed in the locality for nearly a year and did not know a single person there. She wished she knew all the people in all these houses or atleast more than half of them. She wished she had friends whose houses she could just drop in for a coffee or dinner. People she could spend time with on a lonely evening. She tried to remember what it was she loved about being alone. It was hard to reason while she missed a companion so terribly. It was getting dark and with not much to see on the dim-lit streets, she headed home. 

As she unlocked the door, she looked at the time. It was not even 6! When she was outside, walking, it had seemed like it was late. Now, inside the house, she knew the evening had barely begun. If she was in any one of those houses, sharing a tea or biscuit and having a conversation, it would have felt early. If she was outside, drinking or hanging out with a gang, it would have been early. Exploring the neighbourhood alone and wishing she was part of all the fun and together things around her, it felt different. 

She tried to focus her mind on other things. How had she missed all those lovely houses in the last few months? It seemed strange that all the streets around hers had a few lovely houses whereas her street seemed to be boring with only apartments. Maybe it was because she was too familiar with the street, subconsciously. Walking along those paths, she had been sure that she would have made friends with the residents if she lived in one of those places. As she took quick strides along the pathway to her apartment, she realized that it was not so. She had not made friends with neighbours in her own apartment, let alone anybody in the other houses on the street. There were a few houses with fun and laughter that she often heard.

She looked out the glass doors of her apartment to the quaint house at the back, with the soft yellow lights. She felt better. The light in that house had been her substitute for companionship. When the owners had been away for 2 days and the lights had not come on, she had been upset. Like a 10 year old whose parents had gone on a holiday. She had sulked and stared at the house, willing for them to come back. She had rejoiced when the lights came back on. It might be different people now, there were no babies playing on weekends and the lights were on till late. That was ok. It was the soft yellow light that was her friend, the people had not even known she existed. 

"I am going to be fine. It is going to be fine", she thought, and went to the kitchen to make dinner. 

Krav Maga Practioner Level 1

There was everything about the environment that an exam should have. The students in uniforms waiting outside the institute, some chatting and some reading from sheets of paper, some too nervous to say anything. Checking your name on the list, signing-in. 

Finally the doors opened and we streamed inside. Again, the instructions - go straight to the hall blah blah - were all business and exam-like. 

Instructors - external & internal - getting ready to start the test, in all seriousness. Even the warm-up was different today. Tim Alexander, lead instructor and director of KMTA - one of the world's best Krav Maga institutes - introduced us to the test with Kida (the bow). Piero Borgna (Pete), newly qualified instructor and Kurt Colpan, director of iKMF Australia were to be our examiners. 

The Q&A bit lasted less than a minute, was smooth sailing and nowhere close to what I'd feared. Tim started calling out techniques and within seconds we were all absorbed into the Kravving mood. Stances, techniques, punches, power, defenses, attacks and it went on for 2 hours. It hardly mattered who was watching, it was all about giving our best. It wasn't a class anymore but as close to reality as we could get - like performing on a dance stage after months of practice. 

When my partner & I teamed up, we did not even ask each other's name. He said, "I'd have preferred to work with someone I was familiar with". I couldn't agree more. I was pretty much looking for my usual partner Vanessa before I ended up with him. At the end of the grading - many strikes, hard knocks,  punches and kicks later - we were both thoroughly bruised and sufficiently beaten up. We had not only fared well individually, we had been excellent partners. Good job, mate!

I can now honestly say that I know what it feels like to be punched square in the jaw, kicked in the face with a shoe-shodden foot, choked into a coughing fit, repeatedly beaten on both hands till they leave coloured patches, kicked in the groin, etc. <sheepish insert: giving someone a black eye too>

When Tim said, "Your marking is done, now you've to earn your grading", I couldn't help but smile. Internally, a little voice whined, "Noooo!". I know what that means. When Tim says you have to earn something, he makes sure you work hard and you work a good sweat. So he did.

Finally, it was time for Kida, the final bow before the results. We had all passed. Pete said he was impressed. Kurt was pleased too. Got my feedback, exchanged congratulations with friends and headed home with Vanessa. We couldn't stop raving about it. Various parts of my body were talking too, in a sweet painful way. 

Returned home to FB pages full of today's grading. So much happiness everywhere. Yes, it was worth it. I'm glad I did it. I had some of the best instructors in Tim, Pete and Iman, how could I not?

Now for a beer, pav bhaji, the couch, telly and a book. A well-deserved rest.

Not My Cup Of Tee

There are times in life when you suddenly decide you need a change. I have times like that all the time. So, last week I decided that I needed to pick up a sport. This was in addition to plans to learn a new language, join Zumba classes, cover all the Theme Parks in the next few free weekends (do not see one in sight for another few but I'm sure there will be one), preparing for my Martial Arts grading, etc. 

It must be easy enough to pick a sport, right? You like something, you find a play area and go for it. Yeah, right! Not in my life! After much thought, golf won the day. Next thing was to find out where I could get a few lessons. There is a little voice in my head that is screaming, "Do you know how expensive golf is? And lessons? Are you out of your mind? Did you win a lottery or something?". I tried hard to ignore it and almost succeeded. But you know how life is a bitch and all that? We had a day out at work and guess where we went? Victoria Golf Club. I decided it was Fate. I was meant to play golf. "Yeah sure, why not"

We headed to the driving range first. Suffice to say that at the end of an hour and half, I had managed to touch the 100 mark a couple of times, the 75 mark a few times and try as I might, I could not make the smiley at 150. It stood there, a large smiley face, eluding me like the times in school when everyone gets a smiley for their homework and you grow old waiting. Two buckets of balls later, it was time for Putt Putt Golf. 

You might think (if you are a non-golfer like me, you would) that the driving range was a practice session for the real golf (er... Putt Putt Golf). I arrived at the location, brimming with confidence. I knew how to hold the driver and I could swing now. Well, better than the start of the day, right?

Surprise!!! These clubs looked nothing like the ones I had just practised with! Apparently, those were drivers, these are putters. Well, they were shorter than the earlier ones and hence might be easier to handle. That is what I thought, anyway. First things first. How do I hold this one? Fortunately for me, a friend was kind enough to show me the stance and the action. 

I wonder if the Oz army has 'hot' as a criteria for selecting personnel. Or maybe just the ones with a certain name starting with T?

Hmmm. Where was I? Yes, Putt Putt Golf. ND and I started teeing off, took a couple of shots and decided we had no clue what we were up to. He wanted to go home. Poor baby, I know the feeling. 

Instead, we went over to where some of the others were playing. PF asked me if I was done playing and I told him I did not know how to play the game. "You can have my game", GJ came running to me. Tell me again why I think he is a nice guy? AL looked up from his mobile phone, put it in his pocket and said, "Go for it, it's simple" and started following us. I gulped. I could not play for the life of me and here was my boss' boss and his boss watching me. A mental thanks to TS for showing me how to hold the driver. Another one to JM for explaining what I need to do. 

My first shot and off into the hole. Yay! LM wanted to know the score. Score? What score? There was no shortage of surprises in this day, was there? We were playing for scores? How do you score? Someone explained it to me. Supposedly, I had played well. One shot. Good. Suddenly, my confidence was soaring. 

It was not long before I realized that golf was not my cup of tea. Beginners' luck and things like that started making sense. It was fun, so I will not mention the skin that peeled off and had to be hidden under a band-aid, the calluses on my palms that were black beyond recognition and other little bruises. No pain, no gain. Right? 

I am not sure I understand why someone would go through so much pain, spend an entire day (or half, maybe) doing this weekend after weekend. I cannot see myself doing that. I can see learning golf slyly being pushed behind some other sport on my list. I'm not ready to give up yet, so that little voice can stuff it!

I'm not sure what the other sport is but I'm sure it will be less dangerous than this one. In my defence, getting injured while playing makes golf a dangerous sport! 

Ah, you heard that little voice too, did you? Annoying, right? I know!

Smile An Everlasting Smile

I heard the happiness in your laugh and your excitement. You sounded like a child. The word that came to mind was 'glee'. The term 'pure joy' made sense. I smiled. It came naturally. 

Mary J. Waldrip said, "A laugh is a smile that bursts". When you laughed, a speck from the burst hit me. 

I know what I said then. I heard it myself. I insisted you go easy. Maybe I was trying to sound worried. Maybe I was, a little bit. Despite all that, I was smiling. Almost laughing but preferring to hear you laugh instead. I remember it now and it makes me smile. 

There is a sound that warms me like a hug...

It was a beautiful morning, one that forced me to forget everything and just smile. No questions allowed, no reasons given, just smile. A deep moment of emptiness filling with cheer, as the lips curved lightly. 

I stepped outside. While I enjoyed the hamburger and coffee, I thought of you. I remembered the first time. You were here then. The memory felt real and made me smile. I walked down streets, all of which I had walked with you before. Then I reached some that we had not but I knew you would have loved it. My lips were not smiling but I felt a smile inside me as I strolled about. 

Yes, it is those memories and knowing they will realize once again that keeps my smile intact. 

The air was thick with anticipation. Emotions were at an 'almost happy' phase. Ready to erupt but holding back the smiles and laughter till we could be sure. The colour of tension was a multitude of shades flickering with an 'almost certain' sentiment. 

It was an awesome display of patience and grit, in my experience. The calm surrounding it was infectious. 

With the final swing of the ball in the air, you had us holding our breaths in a strange concoction of pleasure and disbelief! A befitting last ball sixer in response to theirs, something even the most hopeful could not have thought of asking. You gave a billion people a reason to smile in that instant. 

The applause will continue till the overwhelming sense of relief settles. You swept us off our feet and we are still reeling at the sensation. For now, we are unified by that smile you put in our days.

Aye Aye Captain, we are grateful... for spilling the lava of smiles over the country.

The perfect sleep is a long and deep one. When I awoke, I found a smile on my face. Just like that. Slowly, as I wound my way along the minutes, pleasant hours that had passed by pushed to the front of my mind. I sat down with a cuppa to enjoy them again. 

When I was finally stood up to move on, you sent me a text, "Please call". Unsure of what to read into it and unable to shake off the good climate inside me, I called you. The sound of two delighted voices tripping over each other had me gripped as you took off on a merry ride in the phone call. 

I confess, I love tumbling along from one reason to smile to another. 

"Smile, an everlasting smile / A smile can bring you near, to me..."

It's Raining FML

The first thing I did when I got home from work today was this.

suholla suholla 

Fuck YOU! And you, you, you and you too! #fb

13 minutes ago Favorite Reply Delete

Seriously, it's unbelievable how many things can go bugger all in one day. 

My new sunscreen. It claimed 4 hours of protection, water-proof, sweat-resistance. All I did was run 20 mins in cloudy weather and when I walked into the lady's room at work, there was someone else in the mirror. Someone who resembled me but a couple of tans darker. Bloody hell! A day at the beach, playing in the water had not given me a tan last week! That's how my day started. 

Spent hours trying to find answers for a client who won't understand that if he doesn't tell me what he wants, I cannot give it to him. @#%@$^#&$#&

Decided to call it a day and get some personal work done. Spent an hour making phone calls. Here goes.

Beauty parlour for a hair appointment. After keeping me on hold for... let's be kind to them, I won't mention how long... the friggin' machine finally comes alive and says to me, "All our executives are currently handling other calls. Please leave your name and number, we will call you back" and hangs up on me. Hello? Wait! When do I leave my name & number with you? After you hung up on me or before you tell me to do so?

Insurance company. This call didn't keep me on hold for too long. The guy who answered was very apologetic. Why? As part of my employee benefits, I'm eligible for a good discount on international travel insurance with his company. Nice, eh? Yeah, right. That is if his fucking company will give me a fucking insurance, in the first place. Excuse: I am not a permanent resident of the country. Yay!

Bank1. Sorry we can't give you a credit card because you don't have sufficient credit history. Oh really? You trust me enough to give me a job with access to the credit card information of every customer of the bank but you can't trust me enough to give me a card, for which I will pay you fees and charges? Brilliant!

Bank2. Remember how they say if something is too good to be true, it probably is? They offer credit cards with no annual fees. Five phone calls so far. At every alternate call, the girl on the other line tells me that they haven't received my documents. The girls on the other alternate calls say they've received my documents and will forward it to the appropriate department for verification. And oh, they have a mailbox that can receive email but not respond. None of the girls have a fucking email account they can use to respond. If I need confirmation that they've received my email, I have to call. And wait to talk to a new person each time. And the next person after the current one has a different story to tell each time. How cool is that?

It rained on my way back home, could not run. The real rain, I mean. With water and all that shit.

A Day Trip to Bribie Island

How has the new year been so far? Well, it has been all of 3 days and nothing has considerably changed from last year. Unless you count the fact that I haven't worked at all this year and yet expect to get paid for these days.

That's just me being cheeky there. Ignore me and read on. 

The day trip I spoke of in my last post turned out well. The weatherman said there was possible rain on New Year Day and definite rain on Sunday and Monday. As normal, (s)he was lying. It rained on Saturday. Non-stop. Drizzled, increased, stopped, poured, showered and did all of that in various permutations. May I also mention that the following couple of days have been bright and sunny with no sign of showers?

Praying that the rain will not deter my companions from going ahead with the trip, I set about getting ready for the day. I think it almost did in one of them but for my insistence and her baby's excitement at going to a beach. What we would do in the rain, at a beach, we were not sure. We decided to go because the plans were in place. 

As I announced later that day, someone up there really loves me. Or maybe the li'l one. Whatever! It was a couple of hours worth of train and bus journey before we arrived at Bribie. It could have been later but, as I said, someone up there loves me. We hopped off the train and standing right there, ready to leave as soon as we hopped on, was the bus to Bribie. We got off the bus near Woorim Beach and voila, no more rain! A quick scan of the what and where of our surroundings, Kid and I changed and took off towards the water. 

The long stretch of white sand felt great under our feet. The first splash in the brown waters of the Moreton Bay assured us there was no need to acclimatize. Perfect water temperature for a play. There were too many sea-weeds closer to the beach but we wanted to play with the waves further down anyway. It must be all the summer rain, we gauged. The clouds hid the sun but restrained from dampening our beach-day out.

Splash splosh splash. Click click click click. Shower. Change. Time for the bus. Rain. Whooosh.

It poured heartily while we ordered our lunch and spent 2 hours enjoying a yummy margherita pizza from Dominos, a delicious order of pancakes with maple syrup, cream and ice-cream and some crummy French Toast. While someone up there loved me and the kid, it was not the case with the kid's mum. 

She asks a boy on the beach if he would take a picture of us and he goes, "Ummmm... ah... No". 

She orders pizza at Dominoes and we all wait outside for them to call us when it's ready. 5 minutes later, another crowd goes in, orders and leaves with their order. Another 5 minutes and the same repeats. We peep in, the girls are chatting on phone, hugging each other and having a merry time, showing no signs of getting our order ready. Ten minutes later, mum and kid go in & are back in seconds, with the pizza. The order has been ready for a while, we waited for the girls to call us while they waited for us to go in. Duh! Hot pizza, anyone?

She orders French toast while I go for pancakes. We finish the pizza. A massive serving of pancake arrives. We've finished the pancakes, the coffee, a conversation and just missed our bus, so we have to wait an hr. We tease her that they must have forgotten her order. She goes in to check. Sure enough they have! What were the chances of that? When it finally comes, it is a tiny serving, all of 2 slices of bread with a smear of omellette. 

She walks to the bus driver on our way back to confirm that we are on the right bus. The driver snaps at her, "Didn't you see the board before you got in?"

Back to our day trip. Rest assured that her day being snappy did not meddle with the spirits for any of us, her included. From then on, throughout the journey, it rained like the rain Gods were having a gala to bring in the New Year. Stepped off the train at my station and walked into the damp air but no rain. 

As a kid, I used to believe that if I did something on the first day of the year, the rest of the year would follow suit. If that is true, this year is going to be fantastic! So far, the trend seems to be in order. A day trip on the first Saturday of the year. The next two Saturdays have been booked for day events too. All of them involve taking the same train and then another means of transport from the station. Interesting.

Xmas to New Year

I've been slack on the blogging front. I think up stuff to write, I have the material and then I get lazy. After a blissfully beautiful Christmas, which I insist on calling "the traditional Aussie Christmas" even though people tell me there's nothing traditional about an Aussie Christmas, I made up my mind to blog about it. The draft page remained open on my Chrome for a week before I shut it when I had to restart my PC for updates. That was the end of it.

It has been a crazy week. Busy and free. Full and quiet. Odd and lovely at so many levels.

Christmas Eve involved attending a family mass at the Holy Cross Church at Windsor. It was my first time. I've wanted to do that for many years now. A lovely experience. It felt nice to be at a place of worship after a long time. I had not realized until then that I missed going to a temple or church. It was touching to see that many people with an unfailing faith in God. There were bits when the priest was speaking that seemed to come straight out of the movies. That could be because movies take things out of life in an attempt to make it seem real. It felt out of place but that was just me, of course. I was allowed to take pictures but alas my mobile camera is not the world's greatest. In the end, we all held hands and prayed, then when everyone whispered "Peace be with you" to each other, in reverence, it took me a while to go from 'psst psst psst' and 'Merry Christmas??' to what it really was. Managed to return some myself, eventually.

Christmas was perfect. There is no other way to describe it. Ever since the festive season started, I had begun to feel more than ever that I wanted to see what the inside of a Christmas was really like. I wanted to spend it with an Aussie family and see what they do. Everyone I spoke with merely said "lunch with family", "exchange presents", "that's about it". I wanted to be part of it anyway but no such thing was going to happen. So, I got a stack of books from the library and told myself that I could atleast lose myself in the magical world of stories. That is when I received an invite to attend a 10-day camping trip to Melbourne, Sydney and Canberra. Excited as I was, it was too short a notice to obtain time off at work and to prepare myself. I hated having to let it pass. Then an angel sent me EM, girlfriend of RVR, from my Krav classes, at our pre-Christmas BBQ. 

RVR picked me up from home at 10 on the morning of Christmas Day. The afternoon was spent volunteering at a church, helping with the community lunch for the lonely/homeless/poor. It was interesting to meet so many people, listen to some of the older ones talk about life in their younger days, the even older ones discuss their times, really young ones argue about the fascination of their generation. EM's mum KM chattered away and introduced me to everyone. Such a social and amiable person, she is. Reminded me of my mum. Went back home to EM's parents where EM and I made dessert - chocolate biscotti tart with caramel filling. Yumm. Watching the family exchange gifts in private, is a memory to lock away and cherish. Showered, changed and got lost catching up with the rest of the extended family that came in for a fabulous Christmas dinner. Meeting all those people, the chatter, the excitement, the exchange of information was so overwhelming. The Christmas dinner was a gala affair, starting with PM "saying grace", the Christmas crackers, reading the cheeky jokes aloud, the 3-course meal, the conversations... can't say enough about it. Later, the exchange of presents, reading newsletters, sharing news, more talking, the excitement in the air was simply marvellous. At the end of an enjoyable evening came the goodbyes. 

I was the first to arrive when the day had just begun and the last to leave. A quiet drive back home with RVR, talking about stuff. Bedtime. A perfect Christmas.

Boxing Day was, of course, all about sales and shopping. Even though I had a late start to my day, thanks to the fun and frolic of Jesus' birthday, I shopped till the stores closed. The next day, it was more shopping again. My day started earlier but the spending spree was on till the shops closed. Buying gifts for others can be so much fun, especially when the salary's just been credited into your account. When you toss in a few things for yourself in there, it only gets better.

Back to work after the tightly packed 4-day weekend, which also included cleaning up the mess I call home. I loved it nevertheless, needed to exercise my brains. The 3 quiet days at work went by like a fantasy. Less people, no noise, lots achieved. 

New Years Eve was somewhat like Christmas Eve. Spent the evening with BT and NT. Only, this time it was watching fireworks instead of mass at the church. Walked back to the station, noticing how crowded the city gets on such days (where do all those people come from?) and eyeing the drunks warily, enjoying the colours and how Brissie comes alive on occasions like this. Twenty minutes before the switch to 2011 I knocked off for a good night's sleep.

New Year Day has started on a warm summer morning, just cool enough to enjoy a hot cuppa. Quiet, except for the odd bird. Shooting off to a day trip with friends. Looking forward to a fun day to reign in 2011.

The Story Of A Highway, Rain, Car Crash and A Happy Child

Watching your car hurtling down the road, straight into the back of a stopped car, is a nightmare. For a few seconds, it is like being on a giant Ferris wheel, as the your cage plunges downward. You're plummeting towards the capsule in front of you and there's the adrenalin rush but in some brave corner of your mind, you know you won't hit it. Only, in the case of a real car on a real highway, when you're speeding at 90kph, you actually hit the car in front of you, causing serious damage. You watch yourself rushing into the target and the crash itself takes only a split second. You can barely remember the instant of contact. Then you watch the back of the car in front dent and crack, in the moments following the impact. 

Seconds later you realise that your car has stopped too. It suddenly registers that, with the hit, you haven't really displaced the other car. It probably wasn't that bad, eh? 

What is the first thing that comes to your mind? Impossible to remember. Thoughts have flitted past and fluttered about like shards off a grenade, in those couple of minutes. Some come back, a lot do not. Your first reaction is to get out of the car. Then, you look over to see those getting out of the other car. Was the only damage you did, to the car, when you rear-ended them? It had not occured to you until then that it might have been otherwise. Why? You did not see anything. Nor hear anything. The car had not moved. The mind rests knowing it was not worse. Until you see the driver of the hit car open the rear door and get his baby out. A baby! In the back seat! This cannot be happening!

You rush forward to check if he is okay. The little one is crying. There are no visible injuries, he might be shaken. There's no saying that nothing is wrong yet. What about whiplash? Or something else? He did cry, didn't he? He did feel the impact, didn't he? It is of no consequence that, after crying for about 15 minutes, little Michael seems alright. He is excited by the big red fire-truck of Emergency Services, with lights flashing. He is thrilled to bits when the guys in their fireman uniforms give him a stack of stickers and goodies. When the first ambulance arrives minutes later, with more lights flashing, he jumps in his father's arms in glee. While the paramedics try to talk to him and find out how he felt, he keeps pointing towards the second ambulance that is pulling in. As far as he is concerned see it, it is a grand party. He is enjoying every second of it... the flashing lights, the big trucks, the men all dressed up in uniforms, the attention he is getting. You cannot help but smile at his sweet innocence. He is going to be alright. He is one hell of a kid, isn't he?

The minutes spent waiting for the towing trucks, the emergency services, the ambulance and the numerous questions, calling the car hire agency... it seems endless. It is a real slow hour after all is over that the cops finally arrive. A good couple of hours and half since the accident. Then, another hour of gruelling questions targeted at the driver who rear-ended the car. It does not matter that the car stopped bang in the middle lane of a speeding highway. The car behind should maintain enough distance to stop without hitting, is the argument. Fair enough, you think. 

Fifty kilometres away from the destination, over an hour's drive away from the starting point, standing in the rain, on a highway. Quite a scene. All you have is a few smokes, the towing guys for conversation, stressed parents, grand-mom and little Michael for company. Once the trucks started leaving, it is the rain and slush which excites the kiddo. He jumps on the wet grass, splashing the muddy water and grime over himself, laughing and clapping with joy. In the harrowing minutes that pass, playing with Michael is a little joy, of those hours, to be cherished later. 

You give him little stones to throw in the dirty water and you are his best friend now. It keeps him from jumping into the water for a while. He manages to mess up his clothes, anyway. When his mum tries to distract him with a book and pen, he runs to his new playmate who gave him a choccie some time ago. It is enough for him to trust the stranger, who draws a cat in his book, which he watches with wide eyes. He is overjoyed and asks for it again and again. He takes the pen from his new friend and tries to draw circles in the book. Then he gives up, not disappointed but happy for you to draw some more cats for him. Such a little thing seems to give him so much happiness. He settles down on the road and refuses to go home when his parents call him. He wants to watch his buddy draw pathetic little figures in his tiny notebook. The blessing that innocence is cannot be described!

His dad carries him back to the car, crying and screaming, because he wants to play, not go home. He doesn't want to leave his friends. He likes the rain, the mud, the stones and everything that is here, not back home.

A longer wait follows as the policeman, with the strong accent, goes about his interrogation of the errant driver. The friendly towing guys readily agree to drop everyone off at the Caboolture train station. It is not too far from here (Morayfield, the site of the events), they say. Soon, the first truck takes off with 2 people, while the other one would take the remaining two. It's a good hour before the latter arrive in the towing truck, with the rental car that was also battered in the front. 

Hours from when it all first started, numerous questions, notes, recording, signatures and a ticket later it is finally over! 

It is too late to continue the onward journey, heading home is the only option. The long train journey, filled with conversations of cricket, footy, tennis, badminton and other accidents, ends in a curry lunch at the only Indian restaurant that is open at 5PM on a weekend. 

There is no place like home, no person like a spouse and no activity like a warm shower to get over the events of the day. And a good 12 hours of sleep.

Ding Dong Wake Up

In an article I was reading recently, the writer talked about how much of precision is involved in a chef's job. He has to come up with a really good dish, as quickly as he can and he cannot afford to make mistakes. He cannot afford to have bad days. He cannot afford to slip up on time or taste. He has to be perfect and efficient every hour of his work. 

That got me thinking. I've always believed that being a computer professional is probably the easiest and least risky job. That's probably why they are available at the rate of a dime a dozen too. You can screw up, get pulled up for it and then you get on with your job. At worst, you lose your job and find another one. The worst you can affect is mucking up a client's figures. Money? Inventory? How harmful can it be? Compare it with the job of doctors who have a patient's life in their hands, builders, even tattoo artists... they have to get it right at first attempt every time. The repercussions are huge and ugly!

Yet, I've noticed how non-computer professionals complain a lot less than the so-called "software developers". It could be because they are in a chosen line of work, unlike the mass of computer techies. 

Stand back and look around you. As the cliche goes, stop to smell the roses. A computer job is probably a lot less precise and stressful than the others. If you disagree, you are probably one of those who take more stress unto themselves than is necessary. If you don't turn up at work tomorrow, the impact is minimal. 

I took a half hour out to make a few phone calls today. Forgot that I was at work, forgot the people around me, forgot the 'issues' I was trying to resolve. There's nothing like chatting up an old friend and exchanging gossips. It is one of the most beautiful experiences of life. Hearing a voice from the good old days and laughing a lot, it blows away the stress of the day like it was nothing. 

Moving Day

According to the plans I made in my head, we should be able to simply move into the new apartment, no hitches. Except that I might miss the old place, the convenience of a serviced apartment being no match to a rental one. So, there was this list of things I had to buy, so we could get started. Lists actually, there was the Friday shopping list, Saturday shopping list, Sunday shopping list and Monday shopping list. 

Come Friday and the evening's spent packing. Fill up the large grey suitcase, cram the  large black one, stuff the other large black one, the small grey and red ones, the blue bag, the brown bag, the other brown bag... it just would not end. I cannot believe the amount of junk I had to throw away. Has it really been only a month? How on earth did we accumulate so much waste? We packed till midnight. Out the window, shopping list 1. 

Come Saturday, lazy morning, slept in, soaked in the luxury of an expensive service apartment. Paid the bills, found a nice Punjabi cab driver, who gave us a good $4 dollar profit for the joy of having met Indians who could speak good Hindi and make enjoyable conversations (yeah, we rock). We finally moved into our new place. The feeling was nothing like I imagined. I enjoyed moving in, no apprehensions. That in spite of the fact that I did not have anything from my Friday list. I promised myself I would cover all of that today.

A breakfast of the best hamburger I've ever had and a great coffee later, we started unpacking. Just walking around the house, arranging things can be so exciting. I had never thought that was possible. Soon after, it was time to head out to the BBQ.

MC has this fabulous red Mini Cooper (with a Union Jack on the roof). At a hundred kilometres per hour, we zipped past beautiful landscapes, while MC and wife JC kept up an interesting conversation. 

The BBQ itself was immensely enjoyable. Fantastic food, choice of alcohol, great people,  not to forget the sun that played hide and seek with the clouds, giving us the perfect weather - a beautiful blend of warm sunshine and cool winds. Before we knew it, it was lunch time and the nibblies had vanished. Salads, steak, chicken and so on, what a spread it was. The afternoon just kept getting better. The more I meet people, the more I love this place. What stories they have, to tell us.

It is so true what people say about time flying when you are having too much fun. The yummy desserts arrived and Debra convinced me into trying the pavlova (one of the only couple of traditional local recipies; funny that it has a Russian name), by the end of which I was so loaded that I did not want to get up when MC said we had to leave. That is how shopping list 2 went out the window.

So here we are, the husband's reading a book, I'm hammering away on the keyboard, neither of us know how we are gonna eat dinner. There is rice cooking in the electric cooker, shiraz on the kitchen counter but we don't have plates to eat or glasses to drink from! Luckily, we have bed-linen to rest our drunken asses on tonight, thanks to my thoughtful friend who thrust it into my hands as I left his party. 

I feel pampered. Is that why I got so upset that I could not get to the other party, for want of favour? I wonder...

PS. I learnt about the Octopus only today, is it too late to join the bandwagon? Wait, gimme another couple of days, the TV is yet to arrive!
PPS. Did I mention my new bedroom has a walk-in closet? I am super-excited!

The Good Vibes

When I came home this evening, the husband made me a nice hot cuppa with a dash of chocolate. It's great to have an occasional day like that. If I rewind, I find that today is a day of niceties. 

A friend changed his travel plans, just so he could meet me in 3 weeks. When I later apologized for I could not make it, he was real nice about it. And called me to say it might still work out. Thank God for great friends!

RH, backing up our team leader who is on a holiday, brought in a large boxful of doughnuts from Krispy Kreme, "I am your team lead for 3 days, I wanted to do something for you guys". Was already on my nicest-people-I-have-met list, made it to the thoughtful-people list. 

I finally finished the program I've been battling with and managed to complete all my compliance courses. Bravo!

So, inspite of the fact that I paid $10 for a 15 minute national phone call, my allowance has not come through yet, I had an embarrassment marathon and I'm upset with my closest friend, I survived. I suppose this is what they mean when they say it is good to be surrounded by positive energy, it just pushes you through the worst of times.

On a parting note, here is my contribution to some humour in your day. It is not the first time I have heard someone say that google search has taught them more than any school education but this blog on google's societal education is ridiculously hilarious! 

Counting My Blessings

The Kookaburra River Queen - I can never get enough of water and the views. My first river cruise. Wow! 

The weather is getting warmer, it's disappointing. It's too early, come on! Hmm. I wonder if I'll say the same in 3 weeks. I'll cross the bridge when I get to it.

Third week and third team outing. Each one different and special. Like RH said, the precedent has been set, I need something every week now. I could get used to this. No, really, I mean it. I could get used to this. My stomach already grumbles for DM's candies on evenings that he leaves work early.  

"I am happy", I said when I called a friend today. I was just going with the flow, enjoying all good stuff, a streak of stress but hell it feels good to just say it. Work is fantastic. The guys are sweet. Not to mention my friends from the good old days - every one of them celebrating what I am. It was totally worth it. 

Enough counting blessings. Time to go watch an hour of NCIS. Gibbs, McGee, Abby, Ducky, here I come...

Welcome To Sunny Brisbane

After holidaying in Singapore for 4 days, it was time to head to the new place I was going to call home. Having been through the 'new country experience', this should have been easy. 

Plus, I was being pampered. I arrive at the airport to a warm hug & a cup of coffee, a friend I hadn't seen in ages, a bag of grocery, a sleep-in at a friend's place till I could check-in, maps and directions, not to forget dollars for my expenses from another dear friend. What more could I ask for? The weather in Brisbane is simply superb. Of course, the clean place and traffic don't surprise me anymore. Mmm, I could get used to this!

Been to the Queen Street Mall a few times now. Liked it each time. Free-for-all salsa/meringue/cha cha, German sausage, awesome awesome.

A fantastic drive in a convertible with friends, checking out furniture, watching the river, it just keeps getting better! I'm even enjoying cooking. It's different, using an electric stove with hot-plates, different kind of ingredients and oh boy, it took me all evening to cook rice & cabbage curry with scrambled eggs but hell, it felt good. 

Except that I miss driving in Bangalore, the familiarity at times, homesickness hasn't quite set in yet. I can't wait to move into a rental and start furnishing it! Starting work tomorrow and looking forward to it. More new experiences, new people, exploring the city...

PS. This was written a day before I started work, only posted now but I'm leaving it unchanged. Been at work 2 days now and by God, my favourite part of the entire Brisbane experience (ok, second favourite, cos my favourite's the riverside)

Stress Is My First Name, Panic My Middle Name

In a chat with a friend of mine, back in my pre-university days, we discussed how sometimes our intuition warned us of upcoming events and we ended up feeling guilty for not having understood the signs when it was something bad. It's a little freaky but we took it in our stride. We said, "It's a woman's instinct. That's how it is meant to be." 

I grew up, almost forgetting that conversation. Yet it lurked in my mind, ready to spring out at (in)appropriate times. 

In the last couple of years, there were two instances where I nagged a dear one to do something and when they did, they ended up in accidents. It is hard not to feel guilty when such things happen. So, how do you get over the nagging feeling that if you had not demanded it, things might have turned out differently?

I've spent most part of my life, never having to visit a hospital (well, almost). My brother and I were too young to realize when dad broke his leg. As far as we were concerned, we visited him at the hospital after school and he would be in a really good mood, amusing us with stories. At home, we got a share of the chicken leg soup that dad was prescribed. Yumm. Mum spent all these years, without ever having to stay in bed (touchwood), so did bro and I, until recently. 

Bro was in the hospital recently, when his wife's dog took a chewy bite off his lower lip. It was a gory sight. While I nearly fainted as I watched the nurses handle the wounds and the needles, I chose to stay because it was better than the alternative. The alternative was to stay away and not know what was happening. I hate uncertainty, I hate not knowing. I just cannot deal with it. It stresses me to no end. 

The only time I have ever been able to handle hospitals, operations, etc were with my Sonu. He wouldn't co-operate with anyone else when he was sick and I loved him enough to overcome my weak feelings regarding hospitals, doctors and everything around them. 

This morning started off with a grumpy me. I checked my email thrice and ended up restless. Something was wrong. It was not so much instinct as it was a conclusion drawn out of a series of un-natural events. When I made a phone call to check, my worst fears were realized! The next few hours were spent in numerous SMS-es, emails, phone calls and tears. The stress of not knowing and the tension of waiting for an update made me dizzy. The news seemed to get worse with each update. Google didn't help, only managed to freak me further. 

The much-awaited call happened but all it did was bring me to tears. Yeah, I guess I'm a sook! "Don't be a cry baby", the message said. Yeah right, easier said than done! Panic should have been my middle name. I was swinging between feeling silly but unable to stop worrying. The final update came at the 7PM call I had waited all day, to make. The friend said, "It's just a girl thing", so he didn't mind me bothering him all day. Thank God for wonderful friends, what would the world be without them!!

A couple of hours later, another call and depression set in again. It was lovely to talk and find out it wasn't so bad. It was awful to hear those groans and feel the weakness in the voice. It hurt. It looks like a long weekend ahead. A really long one! More uncertainty, no updates and lots of wondering. Not fun.

In the meanwhile, CSK is playing a 'super' match against Deccan Chargers. Chennai Super Kings they are. There's a good chance the game will turn around and DC will win but I am hoping it will be CSK that takes home the goodies. Another DC wicket down. 48-4.

My Vote Counts

I cried for new shoes until I saw a man without a pair. Somebody said something on those lines, many many years ago. I read that in a book, as a child, and it stuck in my head ever since. As if I was not inhibited enough, the sentence rang in my head whenever I wanted something. I asked my parents for less, for I was not sure they could afford it and I told myself that if I could live without it, it was probably not something I should cry for. 

Today, my husband gave away an expensive pair of shoes, which he had worn only a couple of times, to the labourers who tarred the streets in front of our apartment. The boys work in the hot sun, hands and feet blackened with the grime and tar they handle. Yet, they obliged the whims of every house-owner on the street and toiled to spread the tar neatly wherever they were requested to re-work. The charity was well-deserved.

Last night, I went to a friend's wedding with a couple of girlfriends. I love my outings with these girlfriends. A motley crowd we are, we have so much fun. Lots of laughter, complaining about bad traffic and the state of affairs in the state formed part of our conversation. One of the things we discussed was the decreasing quality of work everywhere. Flyovers being constructed for years on end, the Metro rail project repeatedly in the news for wrong reasons (constructions come crashing down on people & cars on the streets, poor quality work, stopped work, endless years of work, etc) and the recent failure of the cryogenic engine in ISRO's latest GSLV launch. So many instances of shoddy work. 

Admittedly, the cryogenic engine construction that took 15 years is complex work. It cannot have been easy to create something indigenous to put in space and expect it to go right the first time. As the ISRO spokesman said, the US and Japan failed in their debut attempts too. That does not undermine the fact that 330 crore rupees were spent on this project that took minutes to fail. With technology getting better everyday and science making progress like nobody's business, why do flyovers and other road constructions fail every other week?

While we were feeling sorry about the state of affairs, I woke up this morning to a ray of hope. Loud noise right outside my house drew us to our balconies. We found government labourers toiling away in the hot sun. Anything that is 'government office' straight away implies callous attitudes of workers and indifference to the quality of work. It was a pleasant surprise to see the level of attention the labourers worked with. The process involved a big machine pouring gravel mixed with tar and other ingredients on the road, a bunch of workers manually pouring the gravel in areas that were missed, another few guys spreading out the tar evenly, another big machine levelling the roads with a heavy drum that rolled over the tarred road. I found the labourers paying so much attention to detail that it surprised me! They looked for irregularities on the roads and poured gravel repeatedly, they ensured that the gravel was lined neatly on the road and off the stoned pavements, they manually flattened the gravel while the machine did it's job, they kept going back and forth until it looked fine. 

While the residents looked on, occasionally directing the labourers  to level here, pour some gravel there, the watchman's wife grabbed a broom and started sweeping the excess off the pavements back to the road. It was a collective effort of workers who were not worried about whether they enjoyed their work or not. They were not worried about the heat or hard work. If they were, they did not show it or let that stop them from doing things right. 

They were tipped for their extra efforts, of course. Some of our neighbours and we gave away shoes that we no longer wore but were still in good condition. It was heartening to watch the so-called government employees do a neat job and to see that there were people who appreciated such efforts. The world is a nice place, there are nice people. So, why do we let the bad-asses rule? Why do we 'adjust' ourselves to the ill-effects from the illegal acts of the wrong-doers? 

I have a colleague who prefers to take "shortcuts" and get everything done using wrong methods. He has a callous attitude and his excuse is "This is India, this is how we work". How untrue! Why do we let such people get away with what they do? All it took for me to shut him up last time was to say, "I am an Indian too and I don't work your way". Such a pity that the bad are so confident and take lead while the nicer ones choose to remain inconspicuous. 

To all those people who whine about the government but refuse to vote, to all those people who refuse to vote claiming that this is not their home-state (so why do you expect the state you are currently in, to cater to your needs?), to all those people who think their vote does not count, I want to ask: "How would you know whether your vote counts, if you never voted?". What gives them the right to expect anything from the government if they never made a choice? This year, I did not vote for a party that I usually do because I was put off by one of my neighbours who has a bad attitude (especially towards my dog) and he belonged to that party. I voted for someone else. He won. Now, we have roads where I live. I'd like to think my vote counted. 

Robinson And Crusoe - The Play by A-ha Productions

I found www.indianstage.in when Chetan Bhagat tweeted about FPS playing at Rangashankara and I followed his link to buy tickets online. I subscribed to get regular updates on plays in Bengaluru and yesterday, I watched my second play in 2 months.

This time I wanted to go with friends (too much of husband can get overwhelming), so I asked the girls if they were interested and was pleased when Jazz said yes. The original plan of driving there had to be shelved because the car has been acting cranky lately, so the husband offered to pick me up after the show (which means dinner afterwards, yay!) and booked tickets for us.

We left by the company shuttle at 5.15PM and reached her house around 5.45PM. After a long, hot drive and what seemed like eternity, I was grateful for the cold, lemon juice. After some frustrated attempts at trying to get the cable connection working, Jazz and I headed out while her poor husband continued to battle with the TV. We reached the newly opened Crossword Bookstore at JP Nagar, where I picked up a few books (I'll spare you the details of the painful ordeal at the billing counter), bought a couple of sandwiches at Cafe Coffee Day and took an auto-rickshaw to Rangashankara.

We looked around for a helpdesk or counter where we could convert our e-ticket printout into real tickets and finding none, decided that it was not required. Another drink later, we went upstairs, only to be told that we had to exchange the e-ticket at the counter 'outside'. As I ran down the stairs, the friendly watchman asks me if I had booked tickets under the husband's name! I said yes and continued to run in the direction of the counter he was pointing at, bewildered that he knew my booking details. On my way back from buying the tickets, I asked him and couldn't stop laughing when he said, "You were the only 2 tickets that were bought online".

The auditorium was not crowded so we got seats in the centre column. The play was introduced.

Written by Nina D'Introna and Giacomo Ravicchio. 

Directed by Gracias Devaraj.

Two soldiers... No common language? One roof.... Ocean all around... Friendship wins! 

Action and fun like you have not seen before! Theatre for the young, young adults and young at heart!

She also mentioned the actors, sponsors and other details. I am unable to present those here and my excuse is bad memory.

The play started with loud music crackling on stage. Bright lights showed water and a large pyramid-shaped  structure that looked like the roof of a wrecked ship over it.

My first turn-off was finding out that the scene on stage was not going to change for the entire duration (90 minutes). The second was when I heard that there would be only 2 actors. The first 10 minutes were just action and no sound. Turn-off number 3. I braced myself for some yawning and squirming in my seat, for the next hour and half. 

No such luck. Within minutes the play started getting interesting. The noises, the confusion, the body language and acting was all very good. The change of scene was managed solely with lights and sound, all brilliantly done. The actors were extremely good. It cannot be easy to hold your audience's interest with the same background for 90 minutes and just 2 characters unless you were really good. This play was a well-directed one. 

Right from the confusion between Robinson & Crusoe, one of who spoke English and the other gibberish (forgive me if that was a real language, it didn't sound like one), to when they slowly learn to understand each other using a combination of sounds, actions and words, the audience are with the actors through and through. When the big ape-like man (Crusoe, shall we assume?) starts screaming in the beginning, we feel as lost as the little English-speaking guy who's plane has crashed into the sea and he landed on the island with his parachute. The way Robinson conveys his predicament to the audience by thinking aloud at times and by desperate actions to Crusoe at others, is clap-worthy. Crusoe's animal-like yelps and growls seemed to greatly amuse the children among the audience.

At one point, when Robinson and Crusoe are still fighting each other, they perform a slow-motion act that last a couple of minutes. That was my favourite part of the play! The lights go dim, just sufficiently lighting the stage for us to be able to make out the actions on stage. The background sounds that add to the actions neatly blend with the scene and the audience are barely aware of the 'music'. The actors perform slow dance-like movements that appear like a fight between two soldiers, played out in slow motion. It was done to perfection - the blows, the falls, the synchronization, the expressions were all simply mind-blowing. There was pin-drop silence among the audience during this act. I almost didn't blink. Suddenly, there is a blast of music, bright lights come on and the actors fall apart with a loud yell. The slow-motion switched to real life fight scene splendidly. I felt like I had redeemed most of the worth of my ticket in these 3 - 5 minutes. 

The story goes on to demonstrate how hunger forces them to acknowledge each other, albeit still suspicious of each other. There is a touching moment when they find a mouse in the little storage inside the 'roof' and both want to kill it. When each has to actually kill the mouse, they find themselves unable to do so and end up feeding the mouse with the little crumbs of biscuits they have. Each man attempts to kill the mouse and goes through a change of emotions from kill-it to can't-do-it in his own way - Robinson, the wuss and Crusoe, the beast. One can feel the stark difference in the portrayal of the same scene enacted by the different characters on the stage.

There are some light moments where they tease each other, attempt to amuse themselves with stuff they find from other travellers who had once been lost on the same roof as them and the idiosyncrasies of the English-speaking fellow. The audience clapped their hands at some scenes and we could hear a couple of kids in the audience totally enjoying the rough, messy-haired, tarzan-like character of Crusoe. 

Towards the end of the play, the two of them have grown really attached to each other and work together to build a raft and lifeboat out of the scrap available, as they think of their families back home. A few more minutes of myriad emotions as they argue about the direction in which they must row, who takes which life-boat, coming to a win-win decision and exchanging mementos. There is another heart-wrenching moment when they have to bade each other goodbye as they row in opposite directions. 

Lights out.

When the lights come back on, the group comes on stage for a long round of applause from the audience. It was designed for children but equally enjoyable by 'young-at-heart adults', as the website promised.

If you want to watch it, it's playing at Rangashankara at 7.30PM until the 4th of April. It's good value for money.

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