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Sunday, 20 September 2015

Brew Bar @ Banglore

We five were in shorts and tee shirts with heavy travelling luggage bags which were hanging on our backs and the straps over the shoulders, hobbled to the lift of a commercial building. As we stepped into the lift, one of us pressed the number three to reach the brewing bar and restaurant. Within in seconds, it took us to our destination. The bouncer was in front of the lift door, he was ready to receive his customers as the entire third floor was for bar and restaurant.

The bouncer was in dark blue safari suit, perplexed to see our attire and welcomed us. Behind him was a booking counter with two charming Chinese (not sure whether Chinese or Nepali) receptionists were asking for how many we were to allot the seats. The sturdy bouncer was looking with astonishment as though we were aliens. One of the charming women with red-half sleeve shirt and black pants ushered us inside and to the right side where a table with ten seats were present; five on either side.

The Bar and Restaurant was semi dark where most of the people were absorbed in their conversations rather than drinking, some of them were cheering up for a football team while watching the football match on a big screen in front of us. A few of them came for only drinking like us. We found a lot of women were there who were enjoying themselves in the company of their friends. All were ultra posh with more number of them wearing skirts or jeans. Some background music was going on through the speakers on all the sides, that was some English song and none of the people was paying attention and not even aware of it because of their verbosity.

It was completely packed with almost five hundred people and there were reasons for this; the first one was it being famous for producing its own beer which was tasty and soporific and the other was it was Sunday night. Three of our gang ordered for the special beer where as my friend and I ordered for fruit punch. I was observing the ambience and the people. Women were drinking some kind of liquid and it was obviously alcohol with different flavours and colours. One of us, Pradeep who was short, stout and muscular appeared like the wrestler called Rey Mysterio with some tattoos on his neck, biceps and thighs and a bald head with a cap over it, started sharing the thrilling experience of  Kumara Parvata trekking  which we had done the previous day and that day, others too joined in the conversation curiously except I because I was passively present in the group.

When the drinks came, we drank fruit punch and they beer. As the beer sank into their throats the words swam out from their minds like the dead fish on the water.  I was absent mindedly listening to their illogical and emotional conversations which consisted of cigarettes, wine and women. It was boring for me and thought why a person would depend profusely on a liquid to forget his unfulfilled actions.

                 Can alcohol erase memories or evoke?

Pradeep narrated a few of his experiences in foreign countries and ordered two more beers of other brand. The more they drank, the more words came out and the more emotional they became. There was no contentment in any one of them, all were merely laughing and smiling and some where they were separated with their inner being. They were not fulfilled beings but they were materialistically full-possessed beings.

After three rounds of the beer, we had paid the bill which cost us three times more than the cost of the best bar at Hyderabad. Five of us went to the first floor through the same lift from which we ascended, to have dinner. The Restaurant on the first floor of the same building appeared like udpi hotel and at the business hour, there were no customers in the restaurant and the ambience was too awkward. We had doubtfully ordered for one mutton biryani and tasted, then we had ordred for the food other than Biryani. We had to eat in that restaurant as we had no other alternative because right after the dinner we had to catch a bus at Majestic at ten thirty. We’d our dinner with full of dissatisfaction. The three of our friends went to their homes after bidding the farewell where as my friend and I rushed in an auto to Majestic to catch a bus to Hyderabad.


Saturday, 12 September 2015

My Dream-- after watching Terminator Genisys

On the terrace of a building; in some eastern part of the city in India, where a middle aged woman was drying her wet clothes by spreading and hanging them on the wires. The water from the clothes was dripping down in droplets and the eleven am Indian sun was hot as fire as usual. She always left the terrace as soon as she hung the clothes but today, the ominous silence from the sky and the boding birds had told her something weird which she had never experienced in her life. Jayanthi did not know how to comprehend it and after five minutes of brooding over, she went into her only flat which was on the terrace between the stairs and the elevator.

Madhav had woken up with a sudden jolt as if somebody had thrown water upon his sleeping body. His head was reeling fast and foretelling something which somehow could happen today, he thought. Since he was a call centre employee, habituated to sleeping on the day and working at nights like a nocturnal bat. Reflecting on his nightmare (day mare) speculatively, he felt why he had got such an earth shattering and life threatening nightmare. It was not just a night mare but an apocalypse of lifeless earth.
What…!

Life on the earth becomes extinct.

A Doomsday.

Oh my god. It was very hard to imagine, almost impossible that life 
on the earth would be nonexistent.

It was mystifying and horrifying.

As he, in his puzzling and throbbing mood, stepped his feet unconsciously onto the floor, he came back to his senses. His mother, Jayanthi was in the kitchen, grooming something. His feet were pulling him out on to the terrace to witness as if some force was calling him out. By stretching his hands up and back, yawning with his mouth which became as big as his mouth could expand, he was looking up at the sky through the back of his left hand, avoiding the sunrays which were hitting his eyes. Something was wrong today, he had seen the daylight scarcely but in his school and college days, he was used to seeing the sun and its radiance. It was puzzlingly different today. Inadvertently, the threatening sky reminded him of his nightmare of the judgement day. A neighbor from the other building’s terrace had called Madhav by his name and said hi where as Madhav replied reluctantly, staring deep at the sky and horizon and now with fully open eyes.

Like a Myriad of uncountable birds, plethora of sophisticated and advanced technological jet flights and firefighters were visible in the sky at a long distance like the machines attacking the Pandora in Avatar movie. Madhav felt that he had seen this earlier also, where and when…..?

 In no time, he realized that it was in his today’s nightmare; the same armed and well-equipped jet flights and they would terminate every visible human being. The entire sky was filled with those human destroying flights which were in a well planned way approaching him.

As soon as he heard their noise, he had shouted to his neighbor on the terrace. “Save your family they are coming to kill us”. Madhav had rushed into his house, held his mother by the hand and took her vehemently towards the lift mentioning, “There is no time to explain. They will kill us all” As they were in the elevator, he had pushed the ground floor button in haste. The steel doors were closed and they were safe, only for now.

In the elevator, he was explaining his nightmare that had come to reality to his panic-stricken mother. His mother, sweat on her face and wet hands, listening to him silently with dreadful fear in her eyes and palpitating heart which was beating faster than it had ever been.

Eventually, he said,” we must save as many as we can, we should warn them”. His mother nodded silently still unconceivable and incomprehensible about what was happening.

 Then somebody was calling my name. I woke up and realized it was a dream……

Thursday, 3 September 2015

Why do Women Lie?

Disclaimer: The Examples, experiences and opinions about women shared in this article are not intended to point or target any woman. If anyone feels so, it's purely fictional or coincidental. It is just an extract from the novel "Accused" by Mark Gimenez

Why Do Women Lie?

“We learn when we're girls to lie to men."

            "Why?"

            "To survive. So we don't hurt our man's fragile psyche and lose him and our place in life. 'Yes, honey, of course, you're the first' … 'Of course, you're the best' … 'Of course, I came.' "
         
            "How do I know?"

            "You don't. Men never know when we're lying to them. Men don't want to know. Men can't handle the truth."

            "Do all women lie?"

            "All women live in a man's world, so all women lie. They have to. At least all women who depend on a man for their survival. Everything we need comes from a man—our homes, our cars, our jewelry, our shoes—because it's a man's world. You see on TV these women writing books about dating and marriage, they're all titled 'How to Marry a Rich Man.' And the advice is to lie. Lie about your past, lie about your future, lie about your needs and wants and desires, lie about who you really are so he'll marry you. We lie to get married and we lie to stay married. We can't tell the truth and risk having our existence taken from us."

            "Men don't have a clue about women, do we?"

            "Not a clue.Why do you think women buy millions of romance novels every year?"

            "I don't know."

            "Because in romance novels the women aren't dependent on men, not sexually or financially. They're in control of their bodies and their bank accounts, they have the power, they have the money. Not being financially dependent on a man, that's a woman's true romantic fantasy."

            "I guess we should make women take polygraphs before marriage."

            "We'd find a way to beat it. Truth or lie, right or wrong, black or white—that's a man's life. Women live in shades of gray."

            "Will my daughters lie to men?"

            "Yes, they will."

            "I don't want them to."

            "Then go back and make millions so they'll be financially independent. So they can be honest with the men in their lives. So they don't have to hide who they really are. So they won't have to compete for their men every day of their lives."

            "Compete for their men?"

            "A woman always has to compete for her man."

            "Why?"

            "Because in every woman's life, there's always another woman."

            She spoke as if reading a verse from the Bible.

            "And it's worse for a beautiful woman."

            "Why is it worse to be beautiful?"

            "Because a beautiful girl is supposed to be a sex object, not a person. She's supposed to sell her beauty to the highest bidder—that's a beautiful woman's career path. To be a thing of beauty, to be admired and purchased by a man. And men expect to buy you, just like they buy a sports car. A beautiful woman is a possession a man shows off to other men, and when that possession gets a little dinged up, he trades it in for a new model”


-                 Excerpts from ‘Accused’ novel written by Mark Gimenez