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.

When Dreams Come Alive

As a strong advocate of dreaming, whether one hopes to realize the dream or not, I have had a number of dreams over the years. In time, the list grows longer. Sometimes they get archived in the head until they are recalled by a trigger of some sort. Sometimes, they drop off the edge, never to be realized or remembered. Then there are those dreams that are fresh and oozing with hope. Not to forget the ones that are on the list and go crash boom with fireworks as one sparks them off, bringing happiness at having come true.

On my first day in Sydney last weekend, I picked up a map at the concierge of my hotel and made a random sketch of my day, while I had coffee and banana toast with butter. The plan was to walk through Hyde Park, The Domain and The Royal Botanical Gardens, soaking in the sights and sounds of the roads that ran alongside them, at the same time experiencing the bountiful freshness nature accorded me. It worked to perfection, as I saw lush green around me, dancing fountains, sculptures, old and new buildings juxtaposed in a contest of grandeur. Interspersed with these visuals were the occasional road crossing, bridges, traffic signals and, of course, the traffic itself in terms of people and vehicles. A good blend of quiet and noise. In other words, beautiful and lively. 

The Royal Botanical Garden is a splendid park, with plenty to see. The variety of birds, flowers, trees and life in so many forms bewildered me. The cacophony of scores of flying foxes, the other quiet varieties of birds looking for a feed, majestic trees, endless carpets of grass and the assortment of local flora I had never known about left me marvelling. After having spent a fair amount of time in the garden, I kept moving forward to see where it would lead me. I arrived at what looked like a castle in fairy tales. Like a 5-year old, I wondered what princess lived in there. Suddenly, I heard music flowing from the side of the castle. I walked towards it, to find a man in suit, playing for his lady in white. It truly looked like a scene from an old movie. I was almost disappointed to know that it was The Government House. I believe I could have gone inside but I was not sure and it did not hold my interest for I had another place to be, very soon.

I walked along the sea-side, to find out where it would end. Imagine my astonishment when I stumbled upon a structure I had only until then dreamed about! It was one of my dreams that had long been archived and migrated to the recesses of my dreamland. I used to watch it on TV and wonder if I could ever visit the place. Even when I made my weekend plans for Sydney, I had not comprehended the awe that this structure would inspire in me. Nothing had prepared me for the heart-stopping reaction that comes when one's long-forgotten, unexpectedly realized dreams come true! I nearly took a step back at the jolt I got from stumbling upon this structure. I stood there, the sea on my right, the lovely garden on my left staring at this magnificent structure that lay ahead of me. I walked slowly towards it, afraid the bubble would burst, if I rushed towards it. Just before I arrived at the stairs that led up to the building, I chanced upon a pontoon to my right. A wooden bridge, gently swaying to the breeze, that led straight into the sea. 

I needed a moment to gather myself. What better than walking towards the enormous body of water, with it's amiable waves and soothing sound? At the edge of the pontoon I stood, taking pleasure in the cradling of the floating bridge. I took a picture of myself, with one of Australia's icons in the background, before finally arriving at it's base. I ascended the stairs, excited with each step. I walked all around it. The sea goes around The Opera House in a semi-circle, disappearing into infinity. 

On the opposite side to where I started off, I saw The Harbour Bridge. That was my final destination for the day. I was going to be climbing the bridge shortly. In a short while, the awe of stumbling upon the mighty Opera House was subsiding. I had my fill. I made my way towards the next of Australia's greatest icon. To see what the beautiful world around me looked like at 134metres above the Sydney Harbour. 

The Bridge Climb itself is another experience to write home about. Standing on the top of The Harbour Bridge, with a 360 view of Sydney - The Opera House and beaches on one side, The Harbour below, Blue Mountains on the other and the vast Sky above that changed colours rapidly as dusk set in. It was magical! Much more beautiful than any dream might have been. It was like seeking a bar of chocolate and finding a chocolate-laden 7-course meal that is sinfully delightful!

Why Do You Get to Define Morals?

In a discussion about women of the (g)olden days and today, the group supporting the latter spoke of how much bolder and confident women are today. As a counter, one of the guys argued that women were bold and courageous even in the years gone by. He cited an example of how the great Alexander was first defeated by a woman. I cannot help but wonder... if she had not defeated him, would the same guy have spoken of her with such regard? If she had failed, I'm willing to bet anything, the guy would have said (if he had to cite the same example) that women should remain confined to indoors and not try bravery. 

In another point made during the same discussion, one of the men drew a parallel between Beluru shilabalike (the famous stone sculptures of Belur depicting women in various poses) and the girls strutting down M G Road in skimpy attire. It seemed to appall his opponent, who dismissed the comparison by saying, "If you are going to compare Beluru shilabalike with the half-undressed chicks on M G Road, then I have nothing to say to you". Obviously, he has nothing to say. Our defendant said it was just the costume that differs. I  tend to agree, it is just your view that differs. The way you choose to look at it. 

You gawk at the shilabalike with awe because everyone talks about it's awesomeness, even though you may not understand what it is that you are really admiring. Is it the stone art or the visuals that are fantastic? Do you even know? If it is the stone art, then the costumes, or lack of them thereof, should not matter to you. If it is the visuals that you admire, then how is our defendant wrong? Are you just a hypocrite who can stare at a pair of breasts carved in stone and openly claim admiration for it but will ridicule a pair of uncovered legs in real flesh? Hang on, why were you staring at those legs, in the first place if you are such a saint? Do not tell me that when you walk down M G Road, you have these 'skimpily-clad women' jumping in front of you and flashing their stuff. 

I am amazed by some of the ideas and beliefs people hold about women rubbing shoulders with men, in modern times. I might understand that in somebody from an older generation, they may be set in their opinions, but to hear the same from the younger people is a revelation to me. How can you not see all the development around you? What world do you live in? What is with all the moral-policing? Why are your close-minded notions right? How is that our culture?

On a somewhat unrelated note: Muthalik's rent-a-riot issue is slowly gaining ground. People are discussing it and insisting that the government clamp a ban on the Shri Ram Sene. With the Chief Minister Yediyurappa refusing to impose the ban, Pramod Muthalik seems to be making the most of his new-found ally.

Where Are Your Balls, News Guy?

Tehelka.com and Headlines Today, in a sting operation, 'exposed' Muthalik. For the last couple of days, HT has been running episodes of 'Rent A Riot' and trying to create a sensation, in vain. Not one other media channel has lapped up the story, here is not created enough hype over the story and definitely no action is being taken against Muthalik, who can apparently stir up a riot for a price (in the video, he was seen demanding 60 lakh rupees to start riots).

What went wrong? Why are HT licking their wounds while no one else will talk about it? No doubt the Muthalik story could have been made to be a big deal. It was breaking news when the Mangalore incident happened (they harassed girls in the name of moral policing) and then the Valentine's day moral policing again. 

In a bid to keep the story to themselves and come across looking fabulous, HT ran a story with the video a couple of days ago. They had discussions on what should be done with Muthalik and asked if he should not be arrested? That was their first mistake. While what they have done is a neat way to trap the bugger, they should have shared clips of the video with other media channels before they did their first run. They could have come out with the story first, the others would still need time to whip up a presentation. They would have made some money out of it (possibly, I am not sure how it works). To have not shared and to expect that the rest of the world will pick up from their accounts, was foolishness. Why would any other news channel want to run a news report that HT has played and replayed enough times to make it stale for them by the next day? 

Their second mistake was to refuse responsibility. This is something I feel strongly about. Why do they expect that recording an expose on video and playing it on TV is enough to warrant action? One of their reporters on TV, Shoma, repeatedly said it was their job to simply bring the reality out in the open but the responsibility of civic institutions like the police department to take action. Even as an ex-DIG argued that the police will be unable to take action without a complaint. While I think there is something wrong if the police know of a wrong-doing but cannot take action unless there is a complainant, I cannot see why HT or Tehelka do not want to take complete responsibility for their operation? Why are they refusing to file an FIR or even a PIL?

On Day 2 of HT's 'Rent A Riot', they spoke to the public and tried to generate a voice that said to to the police department, "Arrest Muthalik!" A cheap tactic to escape having to register a complaint themselves, I think. They have been bold enough to blow his cover. Why do they want to hide now? Agreed there is a lot of red tape to cut through and a shitload of garbage to face but if they started something, they must finish it. Why do they keep asking on TV whether Muthalik must be arrested? We all know he should be locked up to never see the light of day again but repeating the question is not going to make the creaky wheels of the government departments moving. Especially when their viewership is limited and they have no support from the rest of the media world. The public will wait for more noise before they join the bandwagon. The common masses are a lethargic group, aren't we? Isn't that why we sit around and watch when shit happens all around us? 

If they ran the expose in public interest, as a conscientious organization, then they must take complete responsibility and see through to the end of the matter. It appears that Tehelka performed their sting operation, as it is what they do, and HT chipped in with a promise publicity but now do not have the guts to brave politics and get their hands and feet dirty. Everybody wants to tape wrong-doings on video (and God knows there is enough of it in our country) and run it on their news channel, in order to get an edge over the others. The question is, how far are they willing to really clean up the mess? 

Through all this noise, Muthalik has been able to sleep peacefully. All that came of the video (so far) was that he had to give an interview on TV (Headlines Today) where he refuted their claims and called the journalists shameless. Nothing has changed in his life, as a result of the news. As Director General of Police, Mr. Ajai Singh, said there are a number of cases pending against him and this will be looked into as part of those. In short, the grand expose by Tehelka and HT just relegated to the dark corners of an already dust-gathering pandora's box of Mr. Muthalik.

Breaking News

There were days when TV channels had the 'news hour' set aside every morning and evening, to update us with what was going on in the world around us. The local channels had a half-hour local news with headlines from the rest of the world. At a specified time, the news would go on for an hour, with more detailed national and/or world news. News-Readers (as they were called back then) dressed in a saree or suit and started off with a 'Namaskar'. The actual news session was preceeded by a few seconds of 'start-up' mostly consisting of music in the background, while the ying-yang-like symbol of 'The News' bounced and somersaulted across the screen.

Back in those days, when one heard "Breaking News", it usually meant that there was something so urgent and important that it had to be announced right away. It could not wait for the designated 'news hour'. It was news that would break through the ceiling, come crashing down over every other news or program on television. It had to be BIG and would most likely be bad too.

When the 9/11 happened, I remember being glued to the TV all day, watching the BREAKING NEWS. When my uncle called me from a village in Kerala, where there was no TV, I remember telling him there was BREAKING NEWS! We had been on phone for an hour, while I gave him a running commentary from the scenes that were continuously appearing on TV, almost ad-lib-ing the news reader.

Cut to present. We have 24-hr news channels. There's one in every local language and atleast 3 English news channels. No surprise, therefore, that there is cut-throat competition. How different can they get? The big news are big news and they can only relay what is happening in the real world. Yet, if one has to be ahead in the competition, something different needs to be done.

So, they sensationalize news - big and urgent ones, small and unimportant ones, sometimes even non-descript ones. As a result, every news has become "Breaking News". Switch on the TV at any time of the day and these channels have news scrolling at the bottom, flashing at the bottom, journalists at the scene & inside the studio speaking fast with excitement in their voice. When there isn't enough news to carry on for the entire day, they have repeats. If you missed a piece of news in the last hour, do not worry. Keep watching, it'll show up again in the next few minutes. 

As if that weren't enough, in a desperate bid to be different, they even call the 'Breaking News' by different names. Flash News, Big News, Just In, What Is In The News, etc.

Unfortunately, when there is a freak event, they have nothing else to call it. That goes under the same name - depending on the channel, it could be one or more of the above. There is nothing to differentiate the actual 'Big News' from the trivia like Kathryn Bigelow winning 6 Oscars against her ex-husband James Cameron who won only 3. The 'Just In' news need not necessarily be "just in" - this afternoon, the same news-line scrolled for about 30 minutes and was called 'Just In'.

As fillers, they also have panels of famous people discussing the issue in question, most of the time drawing no conclusions in the end. No surprise there. It is merely a bunch of people voicing their opinion. The law-makers and keepers are busy either fighting fires or hiding. The only people watching are more of the ones who can do nothing except to listen to others and speculate within their own limitations.

One particular news channel (and journalist) I used to admire greatly has now turned into more of a commercial venture. Watching this news channel is like watching a movie channel. From times when I believed everything that was on the news, I've come to realize that I cannot watch the news without taking in the updates with a pinch of salt (actually, a handful of salt).

The Big Bang Theory - Title Track

The Bing Bang Theory Theme Song - Bare Naked Ladies

Our whole universe was in a hot dense state,
Then nearly fourteen billion years ago expansion started. Wait...

The Earth began to cool,
The autotrophs began to drool,
Neanderthals developed tools,
We built a wall (we built the pyramids),
Math, science, history, unraveling the mysteries,
That all started with the big bang! BANG!

"Since the dawn of man" is really not that long,
As every galaxy was formed in less time than it takes to sing this song.
A fraction of a second and the elements were made.
The bipeds stood up straight,
The dinosaurs all met their fate,
They tried to leap but they were late
And they all died (they froze their asses off)
The oceans and pangea
See ya, wouldn't wanna be ya
Set in motion by the same big bang!

It all started with the big BANG!

It's expanding ever outward but one day
It will cause the stars to go the other way,
Collapsing ever inward, we won't be here, it wont be hurt
Our best and brightest figure that it'll make an even bigger bang!

Australopithecus would really have been sick of us
Debating out while here they're catching deer (we're catching viruses)
Religion or Astronomy, Encarta, Deuteronomy
It all started with the big bang!

Music and mythology, Einstein and Astrology
It all started with the big bang!
It all started with the big BANG!