Chapter 8: Prepare for Arrival

I thought it looked like she was drawing, earlier. I was not sure, peripheral vision and all that. I can see more clearly now and I see a few block diagrams on the page she is currently writing on. With that, I will settle for studying not creative writing.

A funny thing occurred to me just now. The way I am taking pictures on my mobile every now and then, making notes on a sheet of paper, it might appear as if I am doing a recce of the place. I could be up to something illegal, marking out my route, for a later date when I will need to execute my plan. Luckily for me, I am on an aeroplane, flying miles above the earth. In the air, taking pictures and making notes are allowed. Any idea that I may be charting out the route by doing that is too far-fetched to be realistic. There is not much sense I can make, of the route, with the moving clouds and a beautiful sunset, can I?

I have hit the end of this page and I still have to conclude my writing. I am not done yet. What am I going to do? I really should stop writing and pick up the book I have brought with me, to read. It is called A Walk To Remember, by Nicholas Sparks. I have never read anything by this author before but the book has good reviews at the back. It promises to touch my heart too. 

Let me dig in my handbag and see if I have any scraps of paper I can use, to finish off my ramble-on-paper. 

I've found an email that I had printed off earlier in the day. It is the list of things a girlfriend has asked me to do, while I am in Melbourne. This will have to do.

The clouds outside are all grey now, and below us. The horizon is orange, yellow and a shade of blue or green. There are patches of the dark sky blue colour I saw earlier. 

I am on a ship, cruising along the waters, looking out the window of my cabin on the top floor.

I cannot seem to come up with an appropriate ending. Actually, I need to pee. I have been holding myself for a while now. As I said earlier, I could not find the toilets at the airport, then I could not go because the plane was stationery and then the chick came in and started writing right away and then I waited for her to take a break, which she did not... and there is all that coke I have been drinking. That reminds me. My teachers insisted that I should not use too many 'AND's in a single sentence. They said that made the sentence too long and the reader could lose track of all the things that happened from start to end. My sentences tended to be long, even back then, joined by a whole lot of 'AND's. I may have kicked the habit but it crept in there for a little second, didn't it?

Anyway, I had better go soon. They will turn on the seatbelt signs any minute now and then I will have to wait till we land. I don't know that I can hold for that much longer. There will be a queue of people to get out and sometimes people can be so slow. No. I have to go now. 

My hands are hurting like hell. It is not just my fingers any more. My arms and elbows are hurting too. It has been really long since I last wrote. I have been writing for at least 2 hours. 

Okay. I have just been to the toilet and back. The girl, Elle, is quite pleasant. She was nice about having to get up to let me get out. She had her book, sheets, ipod and a few other things on her lap but she did not seem to mind. Her voice sounds very cheerful. She said something to me when I mumbled an apology about making her get up. She also has common sense. She did not buckle up or pull the tray down till I returned. I think I really like this girl. 

The trip to the toilet was an episode, on its own. A woman entered the loo, just before I reached it. She did not come out for a really long time. I was standing at the front of the plane, where every single person on the plane could possibly see me. After a couple of minutes, I started feeling self-conscious. I could not go back, so I just hid behind the metal wall that separates that part of the plane from the rest of the passenger area. The elderly couple in the front seat could still see me. I saw them looking at me once. Our eyes met and we both did not know whether to smile or not. We settled with a half-smile. That made me even more uncomfortable. 

After 5 long minutes, or more (it definitely felt more), my mind started filling with questions. "Did she die in there?" I thought to myself, willing her to come out. What if she had fainted in the toilet? How long should I wait before I raised an alarm? Do any one of the crew members know there is someone in there?

I heard a little girl's voice from inside the loo. Phew! She had a child with her. It made sense that she was taking her time, if she had a child in there. I had not noticed the child when she entered the loo but then, I was behind her on the narrow corridor between the seats. Another few minutes passed by and I began to wonder if she killed the child. Is that why she had taken the kid into the toilet? I could not hear any sounds inside and there were no signs of anyone getting out of the toilet. I nearly looked down to see if there was blood, flowing out from underneath the door. I kicked myself. I watch too many cop shows! Between the desperate need to pee and the various CSI shows I have been watching lately, my mind had lost the capacity to think straight. 

I turned to look at the things around me. There was not much. A little fridge, trash, something behind the curtains and the exit doors on either side of the plane. I peered to read the signs and markings on the doors. There were quite a few symbols marked on each door, indicating the mechanism to release the doors, in the event of an emergency. Mostly, I could not make out much other than turning a lever here and pushing a panel there. I was concentrating so hard I had the urge to try it out, to see if it worked. 

A fleeting thought passed my mind that moment, "What if I opened one of these doors and let a blast of air in, for a brief second?"

As soon as I thought that, I turned back to the toilet door. I really had to pee. I was going crazy here. What was I thinking? I would kill hundreds of people right there, as the aircraft veered out of control and crashed, thanks to one little whim of mine to open an emergency door while we were hundreds of kilometres up in the air. Bizarre things come to mind when the mind is unable to function properly, due to the strong need to expel bodily fluids. That is my defence. Thanks to all those episodes of Air Crash Investigations, at least I know what would happen. That means, I do not have the urge to actually open the door to find out. Hurray!

Does it seem like I watch too much television? 

To cut a long story short, the woman and her child came out of the bathroom, before I did anything that would everyone on the plane. I rushed in and locked myself inside. When the deed was done and I stepped out, someone was waiting at the door. The embarrassment never ends! Why did someone have to be waiting outside? Did I take a long time too?

I am back at my seat now. Elle is back to her writing. I should have been reading but I had to tell the story that I just finished, so here I am, scribbling away some more. I might as well fill up the remaining half of this page before I wind up. 

Elle just spoke to me! She is asking me if I want the lights turned on. I smiled and said no. She said it was nice to see someone other than her writing by hand, she does not see that often. We both agreed that handwriting was a great thing. I really like her. 

That short conversation answers a few questions. She has noticed that I am writing. She did not ask what I was writing about. Either she does not care or she has peeked at my sheets while I was away. No, that can't be. I am sure she is just being polite. It is not as if I asked her what she was writing, even though the question has been eating away at me since I first noticed her writing. 

While I was getting out of the seat, I saw the title of the book she has been referring to. It says something about Melbourne Design and has pictures of what could be the Melbourne CBD. I can't say whether she is from Melbourne or Brisbane or even from other part of the world. She does not have much luggage but I have learned that people check in their bags even on short trips. Maybe her trip is not short. I'll never know.

It is plain grey outside, like a road underneath us. The horizon is orange and gold. I am on a big truck, cruising along the road. Maybe it is a Volvo bus, cool and smooth.

The captain has just asked the cabin crew to "prepare for arrival". I can feel the aircraft lower altitude. My heart is racing. Did I mention how much I love take-off and landing? I am definitely going to stop writing now. I have reached the end of the paper, my arms are hurting, I need to put the tray back on and the flight has nearly ended. All good reasons to stop. 

It has been lovely to write. I enjoyed my flight, thank you very much.

Chapter 7: Sunset and Sunrise

I am going to start writing in small print now. This is the last sheet of paper I've got. I have some more in my suitcase in the overhead compartment but I don't think I will bother with that. It would break my monotony and Elle's writing too. I've already lost a few precious moments pondering over it. Writing in small print has reminded me of the time my friends and I decided to do that for fun, in college. One of our professors used to dictate endless pages of notes in his excruciatingly boring class. We came up with unique ways of amusing ourselves, one of which was to write in really small print and see who would use the least number of pages. Some students even wrote on the margins of the page. Our argument that we were trying to save paper did not quite save us from the professor's wrath, when he got wind of our secret game!

I am trying to slow down but my fingers are trapped in a rhythm. It is going to be hard reading small print that I write at this speed. The words in my head are still flying past, so that is not helping either. Now, I'm going back and forth trying to pick up words that I missed. This is not looking good.

The pilot has just announced that we are "440 miles, that is 750 kilometres, north of Melbourne, coming up over the west of New South Wales". He is saying that we are ahead of schedule by 20 minutes and will arrive in Melbourne at 10 past nine by the local clock. He is now reminding us that we need to move our watches forward by an hour. I would love to pull out my mobile and do that now but I think that might be frowned upon. I don't think I'll change the time on my iPad. It doesn't matter.

The sun is shining bright outside. It is strange to look out and see the sun shining so bright at half past 8 in the night. Even if there is daylight till late in summers, I doubt that the sun is this bright at this hour. The time on clocks and watches is redundant up here in space, isn't it? 

The clouds are a beautiful combination of white, light and dark grey, with shades of pink and orange in the mix. The horizon is layers of blue, green, yellow and orange, just like the pictures in our Physics text books when we learnt about refraction. I should stop writing and take a few pictures of this. Yeah, I do that a lot. The pictures I take on my mobile during flights look alright on the mobile but they never look the same when I put them on the computer. I hate it when that happens but it hasn't stopped me from taking pictures on the mobile anyway. "I can edit them on Picasa", I say to myself each time. It has not happened once.

I'm still dogged by the curiosity as to what Elle's thinking about what I am doing. Surely, it is not usual for the person next to you to be scribing non-stop on a flight? She has switched on her ipod and is listening to music quite loudly. I can hear the beats, even though I can't make out the songs. Oh, she has the flight manual on her lap. I didn't see her pick it up. It must have been when I was admiring the clouds outside. That reminds me. I haven't read the flight safety manual on this flight myself. I must do it as soon as I can. I can't do it right now because if she has picked up the manual in the last few minutes, it will look creepy that I do the same. She will suspect that I am watching her, if she already hasn't.

Hopefully Murphy and his law won't come into play in the next few minutes. The one flight on which I forgot to read the manual (because I was busy writing, may I clarify?), is the one where I hadn't flown in a long time and couldn't remember what to do. What are the odds of that happening? I have spooked myself out now, I had better read the manual. It doesn't matter if she thinks I'm copying her. It is a question of my life. If the plane decides to take a nosedive and I die on this plane, they might find my notes and know what Elle is doing. They will know my last few words but I doubt that I want anyone to read this. Even if I die.

There, I've done it. Relief, at last. Knowing Murphy, he will stay away today. I have no problems with that whatsoever. As far as I am concerned, I can brace myself and do a couple of life-saving manoeuvres if push comes to shove. 

Outside, the sun is setting. On the right side of my view, the sky and clouds are a shade of pinkish grey. Up  ahead, it is a bright yellow shine of the sun, not quite ready to set yet. In some part of the world, people must be beginning to wake up to that light. On my left, it is a dull and depressing grey. The sun has set and night has crept upon the cities there. Come to think of it, I am sitting at the right window seat, which means that I am heading towards that darkness. Of course! It will be night time when we land in Melbourne. It makes perfect sense. Did I just see the sunset and sunrise at the same time? Wow!!

The little sojourn I took to read the manual has dulled my excitement to write. My fingers are hurting more than I am happy about. These must be signs. I had better stop writing once I reach the end of this sheet. I will.

Chapter 6: A Short Detour

I forgot to mention that I brought the food tray down, to use as a table, to write. This was one of those thoughts that slipped past me, as new came tumbling through. It has revisited me now and I can write about it. I am a little worried that while I do that, there will be more ideas that will disappear before I can catch them. I am going to have to let them pass. What I do not know won't hurt me. Right? 

I had the book on my lap and my sheets on the book. From the corner of my eye, I noticed her pull down the food tray from the seat in front of her and use that as a table. I kicked myself gently for not thinking of that earlier. Heck, I have too many things going on in my head to come up with ideas of my own. Anyway, I could not pull the tray down right then, lest she find out that I have been watching her. To save my pride, I forced myself to keep writing on my lap. 

I can not take it any longer. Down comes my tray. Wow. This is comfortable! Except, I should have taken out another fresh sheet of paper from my bag before I did this. I am pretty sure that I would have thought of using the tray as a table and getting all my sheets in order, if I was not so busy multi-tasking. I am observing her, trying to find out more about her, writing about her, looking out the window and watching the scenery change, writing about that, trying to ignore the pain developing in my fingers and moving up to my elbows. Being a writer is not easy, no matter what you are writing. Enough with fighting with myself. Moving on. 

I am thinking the words aloud in my mind and that is slowing me down too. I tried writing faster once or twice but my fingers fly about, making marks on paper which I am quite confident I will not be able to read later. I need to write legibly or this whole exercise will have been in vain. The nagging thought in my head is whether she has noticed that I am writing and whether she is on to the fact that she is the protagonist in this hour of my life. She probably has noticed and surely has no idea about her involvement. Imagine if I had one of my clumsy moments and one of my sheets landed in her lap! She would casually glance at what I am writing and, if I am unlucky enough, make out a sentence or two that I have written about her. That would be embarrassing and hilarious? I feel like laughing out aloud but I can't. 

Gosh, it is amazing how different it is to write than to type. The handwriting, the speed, the fingers hurting because I grip too hard, the pencil lead running out, etc. Not to mention, no smiley faces!

It is still blazing hot outside. It will be 9:30PM when I arrive in Melbourne. They are an hour ahead of Brisbane. The T20 match will be over. I wonder if we won this one at least. I am almost loathe to check. I know I will. I can't resist. I am not expecting us to win this one, given the way we have been playing recently but it will be welcome. Like an oasis in a desert. 

What is with all the desert references today? 

I may not have written in a while but I find that I remember most of the rules my teachers taught me in school. This is a pleasant surprise. The tab before a new para, the double arrowhead for 2 words inserts, that my teachers discouraged in essays but said I could use in casual letters to my friends. I took advantage of that alright. Letters I wrote to my friends, during school holidays, would be filled with arrows and asterisks. Every inch of the "inland letter" would be crammed. I had eventually moved on to writing in paper and stuffing them into envelopes, so I had more space for my news. The inland letters were reserved for short code messages. I always have so much to say. My thoughts would fly quickly, old ones pushing the new ones out of my mind and I had to write fast enough to be able to catch them all as they made their way past the window of my mind's eye. That is exactly the same thing happening to me now!

I keep forgetting that I am writing with a pencil and I can erase. Another of my habits my teachers absolutely hated and I could not stop myself from doing, was 'scratching and rewriting'. I am doing that now, even though I could just as easily erase and write over. I do not think I am going to bother much with that, anyway. It is easier to scratch and move on, at this speed. I am not being marked for this essay. It does not matter whether I score out words or I overwrite them.

Chapter 5: Fast and Furious

The scenery outside has changed now. The floaty, wonderland look has disappeared. I don't see any clouds around me any more. Oh, there they are! We have flown way above the clouds now. Down below me, the clouds form a desert-like appearance. It looks like an expanse of white sand with bluish-grey (or greyish blue) shadows of the little dunes everywhere. It is picturesque in a way that only deserts can be. The sky is a clear blue. It is a dark shade of blue. It looks hot. It is the sun that I can see from the periphery of my window and the flash of blinding white in the horizon that must be giving it that appearance. The air around me looks pretty hot too. The kind of air that one might find in the desert. Is it really hot out there? Isn't it supposed to be cooler as we go higher? I am a little confused by all the science and literature mixing in my head now.

I have always thought sky blue was a pastel colour. I am not sure why I thought that. I guess I just liked that colour better than the other shades when I looked up in the sky. As a kid, I used to want a dress of the pale blue shade of the sky, with white lace. I don't think I ever got one because I wanted the perfect shade or not at all. Even I was never sure what the perfect shade was. I was a strange kid alright. I even used to create my own words and attach meanings to them. I have always visualized words in pictures and colours. Sky blue was a pastel blue with pale edges. It almost sounds like Autism, doesn't it? I am not smart enough, so that can be ruled out.

Ellie, beside me, is scribbling away non-stop. It might appear that I am just looking out the window and thinking strange things but that is not true. I am writing real fast too. I am trying hard to keep up with the speed of my thoughts. She looks as if she has an epic novel in her head and wants to pen it down before she forgets something. I can see her referring to her big book every now and then. If I had not seen earlier that it was a book on Architecture, I would swear that it is a dictionary or a map. She is not quite reading long before she gets back to her writing. A quick peek and she is back to her script. The way she is making those elaborate notes, I am leaning towards project work. She is clearly not writing off the big book. Her body language is screaming to me that the words are dropping off her head on to paper. 

With one seat between us, there is not much I can see. I am looking at her through my peripheral vision, too, as I write. That is not helping either. It is the only way I can do this, though. If I stopped to turn and look, I would not only draw her attention but my thoughts would run away before I can put them down. It is hard enough catching up with the writing as I think. It would be near impossible to think, then form the sentences again on to paper. I already feel as if I am missing a few sentences here and there. 

I wonder if she has noticed that I am writing too. If she has, does she have similar questions running through her head as I do? She seems to be concentrating on her work but girls have a way of noticing things, without letting on. I am fairly confident that she is aware that I am writing. It is not clear to me how aware she is. Has she realized that I only started writing a little after she started? Probably not. She might just brush it off as me settling in, before I started to write. Not everyone walks in with a paper and pen in hand and gets down to scribing as soon as their bum hits the seat. Let me see. She knows that I am writing. She does not know that I am writing because of her. She surely does not realize that I am writing about her. 

Now, that would be funny. Imagine if she found that out. She might want to rip my sheets. If she is sufficiently freaked out, she might make some noise and get one of the crew to throw me out. Out of the seat, I mean, not the plane. That would be ridiculous! They would not kill someone for writing that the girl sitting next to me is writing about something. She does not seem to care anyway. I have nothing to worry about, for the moment at least. This is just me playing out weird scenes in my head. I don't think I have anything to worry about at all.

The air-hostesses are wheeling the food and drinks trolley down the aisle now. I used to travel in flights where they serve that stuff for free but, with the cheap flights these days, I have to buy food. Sometimes I do but today I am determined not to. I have eaten at the airport and I have a bottle of Coke Zero with me. 

"Mmmm, the coffee smells great!" 

I had better take a sip of my coke and get some caffeine into my body. The ladies are just one seat away from me now. I'm beginning to feel a little bit of stress. I have not decided whether I will polite refuse to buy anything or ignore them and pretend to be concentrating on my work. I am not good at acting and I really cannot ignore people. What am I going to do?

"No, thank you", I smiled at her. Not much thinking involved there. I did what I would do, inevitably. 

Elle is not buying anything either. She has a bottle of water she has been sipping from. Apparently, she has better dietary habits than I. I bet she did not buy chicken from Red Rooster at the airport either. 

All this movement inside the plane has increased the contents flying through my head. I am writing furiously now. My fingers are beginning to feel the pressure. More and more sentences are flying past, that I can't seem to pick up. It does not appear to be affecting my narrative, so I will let it be. There is no sense in going back to collect those thoughts now. I need fresh paper, quick. There it is!

Chapter 4: Alice In Wonderland

We are flying above the clouds now. Actually, we are flying through the clouds. It is a sort of white all around and a little grey. Every now and then we pass through the clouds. It gets misty and whitish. Of course, we do not feel a thing because we are in a plane but each time we pass through a cloud, I mentally prepare myself to feel cold and wet. My imagination must be working overtime. In reality, I might as well be in a car, driving through mist. It does not feel any different from that. There are no speed-bumps in the sky, if that counts for anything. If there were air pockets, or whatever it is they call those things that rock the plane, they would have made up for the bumps on the road. 

Sometimes it looks as if we will fall off the end of the road - cloud, in this case - if we kept going. Yes, it feels like we are riding on the cloud. I can see clouds splayed below me. We are most likely just flying in air but all of this is getting a bit hard to comprehend. I wonder how fantasy writers write their books. It must suck quite a bit out of them, imaging things and creating scenes in their mind that people must also relate to, even though they do not exist. I can now see why some of the stuff is written so close to reality. It is extremely difficult to completely move away from reality and create something that the readers can relate to. We understand Quidditch because it sounds like cricket and has similar rules. Imagine if Rowling had made up something totally random. Say, she called it Bingaloo and made up new rules to go. Even if the readers did understand it, it might be a little hard to retain as they cut through the book. I feel quite drained myself, when I finish a fantasy novel. Writing it cannot be easy.

I took off on my own train of thoughts there, didn't I? A picture of me sitting inside a train, in a fast moving car, just passed through my head. 

The end that I am worried about falling off of, is quite far. Well, there is no such end really, but it does look like all these clouds end somewhere out there and we will run out of ground to drive on. I can see gaping holes among the clouds now. There are quite a few on my right. Since I do not feel any bumps, I am assuming that there are no potholes where we are driving. The potholes (shall I call them cloudholes?) are quite fascinating themselves. We just passed by one of them quite closely. It looks like there are curtains on both sides of us. I am reminded of Hover Car Racer. Matthew Reilly describes it so well. I am going to steal his imagination here and say, where he had brown and grey hard rocks on either side of the path, we have fluffy white and grey clouds. Our plane is zooming past them, just like his cars. They were racing. We are not.

I might as well be in one of the adventures of The Journey To The Centre Of The Earth series. Yeah, it sure feels like it. It is like the real earth but with a touch of unreality. Does that make sense? I cannot think of a better way to describe it. It is exhilarating! I would do nothing else at this moment than be flying in the sky, in an airbus, experiencing the magic of floating through the clouds!

It is kind of funny but I have flown from the same airport at least 3 times, in the past, but I have never managed to find the toilets. It happened again today and I was forced to wait till I got on the flight. I still have not been, mind you. I saw this girl, Elle, writing and got bitten by the bug myself. The fact that she is on the aisle seat, writing so intently, has further deterred me from going. I have to excuse myself, break her line of thoughts and interrupt her. It just does not feel worthwhile. I would rather let her write. I need to go but I am going to wait for her to take a break from writing, before I do. Either that or I am desperate enough that I cannot not be bothered to be nice. I hope it does not come to the latter, though, because if I made a dash for it and found myself having to wait in line at the bathroom, I will just about burst.

She is writing non-stop. I wonder what it is about. I wonder if she has noticed that I am writing too. Does she think it is a coincidence or does she realize that I am copying her? I wonder if I will ever find answers to these questions. It would be funny if I nudged her and asked her. What would be funnier is if I told her that I was copying what she was writing, or if I actually did that. I don't think that is possible, from this distance. The thought tickles me, though.

Chapter 3: Of Clouds and An Architect

It is imperative that I forget at least one thing when I pack. That is why I make a list. The trouble with a list is that if it is not on the list, it will not go into the bag and consequently, what was forgotten at the time of making the list are items that missed the bag.

Once I, Miss Villager, got on the plane, I reached the point in time where, not only could I not retrieve what I had forgotten to pack but I could not buy them at the airport stores either. Obviously, that is the moment when the things forgotten are finally remembered. I strapped myself into my seat and it hit me all at once. No ear-plugs, no belt for my jeans or my dress and no dongle. All of which were on my mind while making the list but slipped off before they could hit the paper. Fortunately, none of them were so important as to hamper the weekend.

Soon enough, the crew made the usual announcements, asking passengers to turn off their mobile devices, strap on their seatbelts and explained the emergency procedure. I half-listened to what was being said, as I am sure most of us who fly often do, until the speaker said something about it being minutes before the "blast off". That made me sit upright! It was the first time I had heard that term being used for take-off. When I fly international, I see warnings on walls that terms like bomb, blast, etc, are to be avoided in conversations, at an airport. So, hearing the air-hostess (do they still call them that?) say blast-off set off warning bells in my head. Nobody around me appeared to be reacting to it and, of course, it was nothing to get worked up about. I spent the next few seconds running it in my head and wondering if that was a term they used internally, to describe the jet fuel being blasted off and what other terminology was used in their training that was different from what the rest of the world gets to hear. I made a mental note to watch more episodes of Air Crash Investigation in the future, to familiarize myself with the aircraft terminology and inside stories.

As the plane blasted off, I looked out the window. My favourite part of a flight is take-off and landing. I love looking out of the window and watching the changing scenery. The bird's eye view of the earth below is always so lovely. Brissie looked quite good from up above too. The picture of the vast expanse of light and dark shades of green, the dark grey roads, little brown hills, winding river at the bottom and cumulus clouds hovering above them, was marvellous!

As we kept ascending, more and more clouds came into view, blocking the view of the earth below. There seemed to be more clouds in the sky than I had noticed when I was on the ground. The clouds below me were pristine white and appeared to be stationary, while the grey ones above me were moving really fast. It felt strange. Obviously we were moving at the speed of the white clouds and the grey ones were moving at a different speed, so the eye sensed them different. If I put the science asshole aside, the scene that played outside the window was fascinating. As we moved through the clouds, I felt like I was in Wonderland. There were so many fluffy things around me. Every now and then, when we flew right through one, it was like walking through walls, in the Harry Potter stories. The initial excitement over, I decided that I needed to fly more often. Clearly, it had been too long if I felt like this during the first few minutes of a flight that I had taken at least twice in the past.

The view inside the plane was less scenic than outside but definitely not less enjoyable. The best part of my seat was not just being at a window seat but having no one next to me. It was a 3-seater and there was a thin girl, dressed in tight jeans, tee-shirt and a loose jacket sitting in the aisle seat. Between us, there was one empty seat. It left me enough room to watch her, without being too obvious about it. I could see her scribbling away in a little notebook. After a short while, she opened the bigger book on her lap and skimmed through the contents before writing in her little book again. While at first, I has assumed she must be writing some sort of literature, off the top of her head, I now knew that she was making notes. So, she was a student. Well, she could have been a teacher too but somehow, she did not strike me as being a teacher. Her body language was more of someone learning something or creating something. If she was not a student, she could be a worker. It was a book on Architecture, so she could have been an architect. She was definitely preparing for something. Maybe an exam, or a class next day or a project. Maybe she was just being studious.

I could not see much else. There may have been a couple of people sitting together in the 3-seater to our left but I do not recall much about them. There were a few people walking around but I did not notice them much at the time, either. For a reason I cannot explain, I was more excited by the girl in the aisle seat (let us call her Ellie), than the view I had just witnessed outside the window. Everything else around me was background. She inspired me to put pencil to paper myself. I took out a couple of sheets from my handbag and started writing.

Chapter 2: Happy Kittens

Once I got off the bus and entered the airport, I headed to the screen which announced flight times and status. I scanned the display for my flight, without really knowing my flight number. I assumed I would be able to figure it out from the airlines and the destination. I was forced to pull out my ticket and get the number, when I could not see my flight on the list. That was a little silly because I should have been able to find out with the logo of the airlines and destination, if only I had been patient enough to wait for all the pages to flash by on the screen. I could not find my flight anyway.

I was not really sure that my cheap, no-frills, flight would fly out of the same airport terminals as the rest. Some cities seem to have a terminal for these carriers, a little distance away from where the 'regular' flights fly. So, I went off to check at the information centre, where a cheerful young woman pointed me to the check-in counters. I was going to tell her that I did not really want to go to the check-in counter but a little voice in my head stopped me. I trawled in the direction she had pointed. On the way, I stopped at the display screen again and this time, found my flight. How funny is that! It was at that point it hit me that I did need to go to the check-in counter, after all. There had been no web check-in for this flight.

I stood in line and got my boarding pass fairly quickly. The girl behind the counter was one happy chick. She had "seen Daniel" that morning, which had made her day, as I heard her say to her friend in the adjacent counter. I have not the faintest clue who Daniel is but obviously he was a guy both girls were drooling over. Good for them. A happy check-in girl makes a happy customer. I got a lovely window seat out front. I could not have asked for a better one myself.

Once the check-in process was complete, the familiarity of the airport started clicking into place, in my head. Most importantly, I remembered that there were more coffee and food shops after the security checks than there were outside. I finished my pre-flight activities first and arrived at the lounge. That was easy enough. Soon, I was standing in the queue at Red Rooster for my chicken and chips, both of which were not too great. I called up a friend I was going to catch up with, during the weekend, and when that was done, settled down to play a game of Monopoly on my iPad. It was going to be at least an hour's wait, if the flight would not be delayed.

Thanks to the people around me and my iPad, I had no trouble killing time at all. The wait was absolutely delightful. That is a good start to a trip, I should say. It made me rethink my decision never to fly out of that airport again. It was definitely worth saving the $30 and the time was well-spent.

I could not finish my game before they called us to board the flight. I hit the PAUSE button on it and moved to line up for boarding. As I stood there, tucking my iPad into my backpack, it dawned on me that I now had 2 mobile devices to turn off now.

"Technology!", I spat and turned both my iPad and mobile phone off, before I chucked both in the bags.

The friend of the happy kitten, from the check-in counter, was at the door, scanning our boarding passes. I should have realized it before but I did not until I saw the girl there - the same staff did both the tasks - handing out the passes and scanning them in later. Well, that  explained why the airlines insisted on closing the check-in counters 45 minutes before boarding time. It was the most obvious thing and yet I missed it.

"Hmm... I need to be more alert!", I thought to myself.

At my turn, the girl, reading out the name of every passenger as she scanned their tickets, said to me, "Thank you, Miss Villager!"

I have known people to mis-pronounce my name and surname before. It happens so often that I expect it now. Yet, she managed to have me in splits. How could she possibly read "villager" out of that? As they say, it takes all kinds to make the world!

Chapter 1: Commute & Conversations

It was a really long journey to the airport, taking over an hour by train, followed by 45 minutes by bus. Thankfully, the bus would drop me right at the airport. All I had to do was step through the door and get in line to pick up my boarding pass. Sometimes I wonder if it is worth going through this, in order to save a few bucks. In exchange for $20 - $30, I was using up 2 hours of my life, to get to the airport. In this instance, flying interstate would take me about the same time as the trip from the city to the airport.

I have always argued that I could read a book while I am on the train and bus, thus it was not a waste of time. I would get some R&R during my journey. Also, reading tends to make the journey seem short. All I had to do was sit there, with my nose in my book, and a little while later, I would arrive at the airport.

The flaw in my theory was that on this particular day, I could not read. I was very anxious. The airlines had stopped allowing online check-ins and insisted on closing the check-in counter 45 minutes prior to boarding time. This meant that I had to be at the airport, latest within an hour of boarding time. Making an allowance for delays and based on the train time tables, the entire journey from city to city (train, bus, flight plus all the wait times) was going to take me 6 hours! That was a really long time, even if I were reading a book. All for $30!

It was too late to change anything and I had to do what I had set out to do. Sitting in the train, unable to read, worried about a zillion things, including whether I would make it in time for check-in, whether the queue would be long, etc, I stared out of the window. I was not really looking at anything outside and there were a number of tunnels along the way, so I occasionally looked around me, inside the train.

At one station, as I watched people board the train, I saw a casually dressed girl, with a pleasant face, walk in. Her attire almost made her a non-entity but yet I had noticed her. I had picked her out of all those people who boarded the train and followed her trip from the door to her seat, with my eyes. In the next few seconds, I had forgotten about her and gone back to stressing about my trip and staring out the window. That was true, until I heard conversation in the carriage that was quiet until then. It was a rather loud male voice followed by a soft female voice.

A guy, seated opposite a girl at the front, was making conversation with her. She seemed to have been listening to music on her iPad and reading or playing but she looked up when he spoke. It was the same girl I had watched earlier. Apparently, the guy had received an iPad as a Christmas present and was excited about it. Soon, the conversation moved on from iPad to iPad games, to Christmas parties and various other events that happened across different states they had both visited over the last year.

It is amazing how a simple comment like, "I have an iPad too!" can turn into a long, incessant conversation. That is just what happened. Without realizing, I had been sucked into the scene that played before my eyes.

I must admit I love eavesdropping on other people's conversations in trains and buses. It keeps my mind occupied and I find it entertaining. Most of the time. So, here I was, listening to a conversation between a girl with a very pleasant face, and an equally pleasant demeanor, and a guy whose mind had not quite caught up with the rest of the body, age-wise. The conversation was rather interesting too. They probably knew I was listening, or were at least aware that one or more people in the train were, but they did not seem particularly bothered by it. A good thing too, that. From them, I heard about different kinds of music, the Big Day Out at the coast that I had read and wondered about, similar events in other parts of the world. I found out where the guy lived and the girl, who they lived with, where they were headed and why. All information that would mean nothing to me once I get off the train and head on my journey but made the journey pleasant, as conversations tend to do.

I did not miss my book for one minute of the journey. I did not even realize how long the train journey had been. As they both got off one station after another, the latter reaching his destination one stop before mine, the carriage got quieter. It hit me then that I still had another 45 minutes of a bus ride, to reach the airport. I figured I might have to read my book after all. Only, I was not particularly enthusiastic about it that afternoon and I did not. I chose to look out the window and get a feel of the route that I had taken so often in the past but never bothered to check out. It was not too bad. Maybe it was worth the trip, after all. I saved 30 bucks and had a new travel experience to write home about.

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. 

Cappuccino and Hotcakes

I'm standing in the queue at McD's for an early brekkie. It's a little after 6.30AM. Allow me to explain.

I've been out since 5.45AM and that was three quarters of an hour after I woke up this morning. I have just taken a bus to the city from a girlfriend's place, where I had a girls' night out and sleepover, leaving her a note that I'd see her later today. Everyone else around me look like they're heading home from a hard night out. Except for the handful who are arriving into the city, to work on a Saturday. McDonald's, being one of the only few places open that early, has a long queue at the counter. I'm one of those people in the queue, not looking very different from the rest of those who are heading home too.

Guy before me has a cappuccino in hand, says to the kid behind the counter, "I'm waiting for my hotcakes". Kid says, "But you haven't ordered hotcakes, sir. You only ordered cappuccino". Guy storms out, "Alright, don't give me hotcakes. I'll go to work another day without food". You can't help feeling sorry for the crazy nutter. Everyone else is too busy to notice. Can't wait to get home the morning after! 

"Next please!"

My turn. I order a cappuccino and hotcakes. It looks yum in the pictures, can't wait to dig into it. I settle down in a seat, reading my book and gulping large sips of hot cappuccino. "I'll eat the pancakes when I get home", I think. Ten minutes later, my alarm goes off. The railway announcer announces my train. I pick up my coffee and book. I'm already wearing my bag. I walk slowly down the stairs, finish my coffee and trash the cup as I hit the platform. My train arrives. I'm one of the first to get in. The train waits a good 4 minutes before chugging out of the station. I'm still reading my book. I get off at my station, still reading the book, until I hit the road. If nothing else, my addiction to reading will kill me! As I cross the road, I am excited. I can't wait to get home and eat my... Hang on, where's my...? I can see a picture in my mind's eye. A brown paper bag with red logo, delicious smelling hotcakes, those little tubs of butter... sitting on the black, shiny granite-top table at McDonald's at the Central Station. I can't help but think of the guy before me in the queue...

Guest Post #4: ಅತಿ ಸಣ್ಣ ಕಥೆಗಳು (Shortest Stories)

ಅತಿಥಿ ವಾರಧ ನನ್ನ ಮೊದಲ ಕನ್ನಡ ಬ್ಲಾಗ್, ಗೆಳೆಯನೊಬ್ಬನು ಬರೆದಿರುವನು. ಅದನ್ನು ಇಲ್ಲಿ ಪ್ರಸ್ತುತ ಪಡಿಸಲು ನನಗೆ ಬಹಳ ಸಂತೋಷವಾಗುತ್ತಿದೆ. ಧನ್ಯವಾದಗಳು ಸುಶೀಲ್!

For the benefit of my English readers: This is my first guest blog in a local language (Kannada). I'm pleased to present it. Thanks Susheel!

Ernest Hemingway ಹೀಗೊಂದು ಕತೆ ಬರೀತಾರೆ. ಅದು ಕೇವಲ ಆರೇ ಪದಗಳಲ್ಲಿ! ಇದು ತನ್ನ ಅತ್ಯುತ್ತಮ ಕೃತಿಗಳಲ್ಲಿ ಒಂದು ಅಂತಾರೆ ಕೂಡಾ. 

"For sale: baby shoes, never worn."
"ಕುಲಾವಿಯೊಂದು ಮಾರಾಟಕ್ಕಿದೆ. ಎಂದೂ ಉಪಯೋಗಿಸಿಯೇ ಇಲ್ಲ!"

ಹಾಗೇ Augusto Monterroso  ತಮ್ಮ "El Dinosaurio" ("The Dinosaur") ಅನ್ನೋ ಅತಿಸಣ್ಣ ಕಾಲ್ಪನಿಕ (fiction) ಕತೆಯೊಂದನ್ನ ಬರೀತಾರೆ. 

ಇಡೀ ಕತೆ ಕೇವಲ ಎಂಟು ಪದಗಳನ್ನೊಳಗೊಂಡಿದ್ರೂ ಓದಿದ ಬಳಿಕ ಓದುಗನನ್ನ ಯೋಚನೆಗೆ ಹಚ್ಚೋದ್ರಲ್ಲಿ ಸೋಲುವುದಿಲ್ಲ.

Cuando despertó, el dinosaurio todavía estaba allí. 
("When [s]he awoke, the dinosaur was still there.") 
"ಅವನಿ(ಳಿ)ಗೆ ಎಚ್ಚರವಾದಾಗ, ಡೈನೋಸಾರ್ ಇನ್ನೂ ಅಲ್ಲೇ ಇತ್ತು."

ಇದೇ ತೆರನಾಗಿ Wired.com, Story Bytes ಅನ್ನೋ ಕೆಲವು ವೆಬ್ಸೈಟುಗಳೂ ವಿವಿಧ ಲೇಖಕರಿಂದ ಅತಿಸಣ್ಣ ಕತೆ ಬರೆಸುವ ಪ್ರಯತ್ನ ಮಾಡಿ ಯಶಸ್ವಿಯಾಗಿದೆ. ಅದೇ ರೀತಿ ಆರ್ಕುಟ್ಟಿನಲ್ಲಿ ಕನ್ನಡ ಕವಿತೆ, ಕಥೆ - ವಿಭಾಗ ಅನ್ನೋ ಕಮ್ಯುನಿಟಿಯ ಸದಸ್ಯರೆಲ್ಲ ಸೇರಿ ಮಾಡಿದ ವಿಶೇಷ ಪ್ರಯತ್ನಗಳು ಕೂಡಾ ಒಂದು. ಫೆಬ್ರವರಿ 2008ರಿಂದ ಈಚೆಗೆ ಅಲ್ಲಿದ್ದ ನನ್ನ ಕೆಲವು ಪ್ರಯತ್ನಗಳನ್ನ ಕ್ರೋಢೀಕರಿಸಿ ಒಂದು ಬ್ಲಾಗ್ ಪೋಸ್ಟ್ ಮಾಡುವ ಇರಾದೆ ತುಂಬಾ ದಿನಗಳಿಂದಲೇ ಇತ್ತಾದ್ರೂ ಸದಾ ಕಾಡುವ/ಕೊಡುವ 'ಕೆಲಸದೊತ್ತಡ','ಟೈಮಿಲ್ಲ','ಬರ್ಯೋಕ್ ಸಾವ್ರ ಐಡಿಯಾಗಳಿವೆ ಆದ್ರೆ ಬರ್ಯಕ್ಕಾಗ್ತಿಲ್ಲ' ಅನ್ನೋ ಸುಳ್ಳು-ನೆಪಗಳಲ್ಲೇ ಮುಳುಗಿಹೋಗಿದ್ದೆ. ಆಗಿದ್ದಾಗ್ಲಿ ಅಂತ ಕೂತು ಎಲ್ಲವನ್ನೂ ಹೆಕ್ಕಿ ತಂದು ಒಂದುಮಾಡಿ ಇಲ್ಲಿರಿಸಿದ್ದೇನೆ.

೧. "ಮೇನಕೆಯ ಶುಭ್ರಶ್ವೇತ ವಸ್ತ್ರಗಳು ಇನ್ನೂ ಮರದಬುಡದಲ್ಲೇ ಬಿದ್ದಿತ್ತು" 

೨. ಒಣಗಿದ ಜಮೀನಿನ ಮಧ್ಯದಲ್ಲ್ಲಿಬಿದ್ದಿದ್ದ ಮುದುಕ ಮುದ್ದೇಗೌಡನ ಶವ ಆಗಸದೆಡೆಗೆ ಇನ್ನೂ ಆಸೆಯ ನೋಟ ಬೀರುತ್ತಲೇ ಇತ್ತು. 

೩. ವಿಪರ್ಯಾಸ : ರಾಜ್ಯ ಮಟ್ಟದ ಮ್ಯಾರಾಥಾನ್‍ ಸ್ಪರ್ಧೆಯಲ್ಲಿ ಚಿನ್ನದ ಪದಕ ಗಳಿಸಿದ್ದವನಿಂದು ಉಪ್ಪಾರಪೇಟೆ ಪೋಲೀಸ್ ಸ್ಟೇಷನ್ನಿನ ಕ್ರೈಂ ಬ್ರಾಂಚಿನಲ್ಲಿ ಹೆಡ್ ಕಾನ್ಸ್ಟೇಬಲ್ ಆಗಿದ್ದಾನೆ. 

೪. ಕೇಡುಗಾಲ : ಅವರೆಲ್ಲರೂ ಸಹಬಾಳ್ವೆ ನಡೆಸುತ್ತಾ ಸುಖವಾಗಿರುವಾಗಲೇ, ಗೂಗಲ್ ಆರ್ಕುಟ್ಟನ್ನು ಮಾರಿಬಿಡುವ ಹೊಂಚು ಹಾಕಿತು. 

೫. ಸುನಾಮಿ : ದಿನಾವೂ ಶಾಂತವಾಗಿ ಸಂಜೆ ಸೂರ್ಯನನ್ನು ನುಂಗುತ್ತಿದ್ದ ಕಡಲು ಇಂದೇಕೋ ರಚ್ಚೆ ಹಿಡಿದ ಮಗುವಿನಂತೆ ವಾಕರಿಸುತ್ತಿದೆ! 

೬. ಮೊದಲೇ ಲೇಟಾಗಿದೆ, ಅವಸರವಸರವಾಗಿ ಹಲ್ಲುಜ್ಜಿಕೊಂಡು ಸೊರ್ರನೆ ಕಾಫಿ ಹೀರಿದೆ; 
ಬೇಗ ಶೇವ್ ಮಾಡಿಬಿಡೋಣಾಂತ ಕೆನ್ನೆಗೆ ಬ್ರಶ್ ತಗುಲಿಸಿದಾಗ ಯಾಕೋ ಏನೋ ಕ್ಲೋಸಪ್ ವಾಸನೆ ಬರ್ತಿದೆ! 

೭. ಪದ-ಪದಗಳ ನಡುವೆ ನಾಮಪದಗಳ ತುರುಕಿ ಕ್ರಿಯಾಪದಗಳ ಸೇರಿಸಿ ಆಡುತ್ತಿದ್ದ ಅವರಿಬ್ಬರಿಗೂ ಆ ಪದಗಳು ಕೇವಲ 'ಪದ'ಗಳಾಗಿ ಉಳಿಯದೆ 'ಪದ್ಯ'ವಾಗಿದ್ದರ ಅರಿವೇ ಇರಲಿಲ್ಲ! 

೮. ನೆನಪಿಗೂ ಮರೆವಿಗೂ ಮದುವೆಯಾಗಿದ್ದನ್ನು ಅವನು ಮರೆತುಬಿಟ್ಟಿದ್ದ. ಅವಳು ನೆನಪಿಸುತ್ತಲೇ ಇದ್ದಳು! 

೯. ಬಾಂಬು ಬಾಂಬೆಂದು ಬೊಬ್ಬೆ ಹೊಡೀತಿದ್ದ ಜನರ ಮಧ್ಯೆ ಹೋಗಿ ಲೈವ್ ಕವರೇಜ್ ಮಾಡಬೇಕಿದ್ದ ಟಿವಿ9 ವರದಿಗಾರ್ತಿಯೊಬ್ಬಳಿಗೆ ತಕ್ಷಣಕ್ಕೆ ಮ್ಯಾಚಿಂಗ್ ಬ್ಲೌಸ್ ಸಿಗದಾಯಿತು!!! 

೧೦. "ಹಲೋ...ಹುಷಾರಾಗಿ ಊರು ತಲುಪಿಕೊಂಡ್ಯಾ?ನಾಯಂಡಹಳ್ಳಿ ಹತ್ರ ಮೈಸೂರ್ ರೋಡ್ ಬ್ಲಾಕ್ ಅಂತಿದ್ರು, ನಿಂಗೇನೂ ತೊಂದ್ರೆ ಆಗ್ಲಿಲ್ಲ ತಾನೆ?ಅಮ್ಮ ಹುಷಾರಾಗಿ ಬಂದ್ರ?"; "ಸ್ಸಾರಿ....ರಾಂಗ್ ನಂಬರ್" 

೧೧. ಕರಿಮಲೆಯ ಕಗ್ಗತ್ತಲಿನಲ್ಲಿ ಸುಂಯ್‍ಗುಡುವ ಕುಳಿರ್ಗಾಳಿಯಲ್ಲೇ, ಉಳಿದಿದ್ದ ಆ ಕಡೇ ಬೆಂಕಿಕಡ್ಡಿಯನ್ನು ಆಕೆ ಗೀರಿಯೇಬಿಟ್ಟಳು... 

೧೨. ಬಕ್ರೀದಿಗಾಗಿ ಬೆಂಗಳೂರಿಗೆ ಬಂದಿದ್ದೊಂಟೆಯೊಂದು ಬಿಸ್ಲೇರಿಯಿಲ್ಲದೆ ಬಾಯಾರಿ ಬಳಲಿ ಬೆಂಡಾಗಿ ಕಡೆಗೆ ಬೆನ್ನ ಮೇಲಿನ ಡುಬ್ಬದ ನೀರು ಕುಡಿದು ಸುಮ್ಮನಾಯಿತು!!!

೧೩. ಮೈತುಂಬ ಸಾಲ ಮಾಡಿಕೊಂಡಿದ್ದವನಿಗೆ ಬಂಪರ್ ಲಾಟರಿ ಹೊಡೆದು ಅಹೋರಾತ್ರಿ ಕೋಟ್ಯಾಧಿಪತಿಯಾಗಿಬಿಟ್ಟ.

೧೪. ಪ್ರಕಟಣೆ: ಹುಡುಕಿಕೊಟ್ಟವರಿಗೆ ಇಪ್ಪತ್ತೈದು ಸಾವಿರ ರೂಪಾಯಿ ನಗದು ಬಹುಮಾನ. 

೧೫. ಮೌನ ಮಾತಾದಾಗ : 
...
... ...
... ... ...
'ಆಫೀಸಿಗೆ ಹೊತ್ತಾಯ್ತು ಬೇಗೆದ್ದು ಹೊರಡ್ಬೇಕಂತೆ ಅನ್ನು ನಿಮ್ಮಪ್ಪಂಗೆ' 

೧೬. 'ಹಾಲುಂಡ ತವರು' ಸಿನಿಮಾ ನೋಡಿದವಳು ಕಣ್ಣೊರಿಸಿಕೊಳ್ಳುತ್ತಾ ತನ್ನ ಗಂಡನಿಗೆ ಫೋನಾಯಿಸಿ "ಈ ವೀಕೆಂಡ್ ನಿಮ್ಮನೆಗೆ ಹೋಗಿ ನಿಮ್ಮಪ್ಪಾಮ್ಮನ್ನ ಮಾತಾಡಿಸಿಕೊಂಡು ಬರೋಣಾ ಕಣ್ರೀ" ಅಂದ್ಲು. 

೧೭. "ರೀಟೇಲ್ ದರದಲ್ಲಿ ವ್ಹೋಲ್‍ಸೇಲ್ ಮಾರಾಟ" ಅಂತ ಅವನೆಷ್ಟು ಕೂಗಿದರೂ ಒಬ್ಬ ಗಿರಾಕಿಯೂ ಹತ್ತಿರ ಬರಲಿಲ್ಲ! 

೧೮. ಚಿಂದಿ ಚಿತ್ರಾನ್ನ.ಕಡ್ಲೆಕಾಯಿ ಒಗ್ಗರಣೆ.ಉಪ್ಪು ಸ್ವಲ್ಪ ಮುಂದಾಯ್ತು 

೧೯. ಹೊಸದಾಗಿ ತಂದ ಎಮರ್ಜೆಂಸಿ ಲ್ಯಾಂಪನ್ನು ಉಪಯೋಗಿಸುವುದು ಹೇಗೆಂದು ಕೈಪಿಡಿಯನ್ನು ಬಿಡಿಸಿ ಓದುತ್ತಿರುವಾಗಲೇ ಕರೆಂಟ್ ಹೋಗಿ ಕಾರ್ಗತ್ತಲಾವರಿಸಿತು. 

೨೦. ಅವನಂದುಕೊಂಡಂತೆ ಎಲ್ಲವೂ ಸಾಂಗವಾಗಿಯೇ ನಡೆಯಿತು. ಅವಳ ಕೊನೆಯವರೆಗೂ... 

೨೧. ಆಕೆಯಿಂದ ಪಡೆದುಕೊಂಡಿದ್ದ ಮುತ್ತುಗಳನ್ನು ಜತನವಾಗಿ ಕಾಪಾಡಿ ಈಕೆಯನ್ನು ತೊರೆಯುವ ದಿನ ಇವಳಿಗೊಂದು ಸುಂದರ ಮುತ್ತಿನಹಾರವಾಗಿಸಿ ಕೊಟ್ಟ 

೨೨. ಯಾವುದೋ ನಿರೀಕ್ಷೆಯಲ್ಲಿದ್ದವಳು ಧಿಗ್ಗನೆದ್ದು ದೇವರ ಮುಂದೊಂದು ತುಪ್ಪದ ದೀಪ ಹಚ್ಚಿಟ್ಟು, 'ದೇವ್ರೆ, ನಾನ್ ಪ್ರೆಗ್ನೆಂಟ್ ಆಗಿಲ್ದೇ ಇದ್ದಂಗ್ ನೋಡ್ಕೊಳಪ್ಪಾ' ಅಂದು ಬಚ್ಚಲುಮನೆ ಕಡೆ ನಡೆದಳು.

೨೩. ಆಸೆ : ತಿಳಿಗೊಳದಲೆಯಲಿಹ ತರಗೆಲೆಯಡಿ ತರಂಗವಾಗಬೇಕು ತಾನ್

೨೪. ಮಳೆ ನಿಂತು ಮೋಡಗಳೆಲ್ಲ ಸರಿದು 'ಸೂರ್ಯ' ಇನ್ನೇನು ಹೊರಗೆ ಇಣುಕಬೇಕೆನ್ನುವ ಹೊತ್ತಿಗಾಗಲೇ ರಾತ್ರಿಯಾಗಿತ್ತು.

೨೫. 'ಸಾಲಗೆ ದೊರವುದಿಲ್ಲ; ವರದರಾಜ ಬಾಣಾವರ; ಕನ್ನಡ ಗೊತ್ತಿಲ್ಲ'

ಸುಶೀಲ್ನ ಈ ಬ್ಲಾಗ್ ಇಲ್ಲಿ ನೋಡಬಹುದು (This blog is also at): 

http://susheelsandeepmurali.blogspot.com/2010/03/blog-post_17.html  

No copyright infringements. Check. Due credit given. Check. Credits right at the top. Check. Link to original. Check. Okay, now I can rest in peace. There will be court case, no media madness and aal eez well.