Scubrats Cafe Diary: The green bicycle girl

On a sunny afternnon with the humid Houston loosing its moisture as a little soft chill mingles with the setting sun, Harriet takes a break form her coffee vending schedule to soak in the setting sun and chit chat with her freinds who had stooped by. Erika who also works at the Scubrats cafe and had taken that day off had come to smoke her lungs out as Harriet chatted incesentaly. The third girl, Heidi, in teh party was not so into the converstaion but was very much a company as she sipped her passion fruit drink.

Harriet was twenty one. Fair, skinny, weighing a little more than her green bicycle who lies locked to the cafe bench all day long. A tom boy character and unstoppable force when it comes to talking. She could talk anything ranging from her struggle as a student to the concern of her freakingly tiny breasts to the huge amountof loan she has taken to buy something valuable, which I had missed to over hear, to the arrangement of her sharing her apartment and eventually life with a man who was more than a decade older than her.

She has been home-schooled for more than a decade before she was put into a church school and this transition resulted in a very narrower view of the world. With least intercation with people in her home schooling days to the church's pattern of over powering one's independent thoughts with strict religion-influenced teaching resulted in creating a rebel who would later break the bondages of religion, family, sterotypical life style to the bike riding, tattooed, pierced rebel. The other day when I saw her behind the counter brewing my cafe-misto, I saw her limping and she must have run into some kind of trouble I deduced. She has been thrown out of school in her childhood, thrown out of the jobs when she did odd jobs to meet her tuition expenses, out of apartments by the sharing renter, out of another cafe for failing the weekly employee attitude-something tests, which I guess is fairly easy to conquer. She eventually landed in Scubrats.

But as you look into her eyes, you will always find something mysterious, something very innocent, something very childish and mischievous yet sensible human being.

All the names are fictitious, although the characters are not. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely intentional

That's what she knows

You will notice, there are three categories of flocking people (gatherings) that you would encounter often in your life. These gatherings of flocking people can be categorized by the type of crowd or audience or spectators. When I say CROWD, no one is noticing you, for instance a crowded beach, mall or a fair. In other words, you do not know a single person in the crowd and do not expect to meet them ever again, even by coincidence. AUDIENCE – somewhat attending to you but not that concerned on the specifics, look at you but they don’t smile back and neither are you so concerned what the expressions on their faces are. It’s like you performing at the stage and all the lights blind you from seeing your audience, except for a few near the stage. Instances of audiences will be the people who you often meet at the neighborhood coffee shop. You do not know their names but you definitely know what she has been wearing over the last couple of weeks or may be the bald guy who prefers seating on that particular bench and likes to have only iced mocha. By the way, they too feel the same about you and notice things about you. As you notice there is a degree of personalization and acquaintance as we move from the crowd to the audience. The highest degree of the influence is the SPECTATOR. The closest synonym would be critics. These are the people who really care and feel about what you wear and what you do and the way you talk, even if they do not care to know which part of the city you are from. You will find such specimens at the social gatherings or community events. They influence you to the extent where you would ponder whether to put on Armani’s Aqua di gio or just manage with Davidoff ‘s Coolwaters.

EVENTS in terms of the category of the crowd can be broadly classified into two. Now the difference is – the perspective. Here I am talking about the crowd categorized by your better half (BTW, this blog is for the guys already chained in the sweet bondage of marriage). So, quite evidently I am referring here to the fairer sex. They categorize events into two kinds based on the crowd or audience or the spectators.

One thing you would always notice is that they are always well dressed, looking sexy, attractive, ready to acknowledge the admirers, give room for pouring compliments, sometimes in words and sometimes just a silent look of the passer by. Anyways, the events they categorize are – ‘The partner (guy) should look very attractive, sexy, match-up-to-her’ category and ‘Need not be too smart, dress casually, not un-attractive’ category. The first category (let’s say, match-up-to-Event !) would be applicable where there would be spectators and sometimes audiences. An event where people know you and would come up to you to talk to you and comment about other’s attire. Such an event would be community events and parties. They want to hear- how good her partner looks. It’s a pleasure you can never feel and I can never express but we will always be a party. They want to show their possession and when on display, better be the best among all. Here you are handed over with the choice of shirt, perfume, matching shoes, absolutely clean shaven – argument even if you had done it the very morning on your way to office. Every single properly-not-shaven spot would be inspected and redone. It’s like her best dress she has worn and wants others to look at it. In other words – sometimes you are just an accessory to their perfectly matching Louis Vuitton purse or the Estée Lauder lip gloss.

The second category of the event (let’s say Whatever-you-want-Event ! ) occurs in the crowd like a beach or a mall where the admirers ranging from the desperate sexagenarian to the not-so-yet teens would not care to look at the side screen, where you would be lingering holding her hand and is just a part of the hundreds walking by. Imagine a scene where the gorgeous lady is the only being in color and rest of the characters are in black and white and the whole scene moves in slow motion, one you would see in innumerable movies, you are one of the characters in the black and white who the millions of movie goers ignore. That’s you in the crowd. So it makes sense that you do not spend much time dressing up to her. She is the best as ever and you are JUST fine. The thing to take away from the joy of this event and being in this category of the crowd is – you get not to shave for the cause, wear the most comfortable tees, although wrinkled, and slip in your flip flops, grab a coffee from starbucks and glide through the crowd. I love that.

The SCUB-RATS cafe diary

Of many cafes I have visited in my life, there are a few places I have got hooked to. This is one of those, and fortunately its not only me but both of us, me and Pinky got attached to. There is some aroma and cosiness about this place on Westheimer road on the intersection of Kirkwood that you would hardly miss once you frequent this place. There are a variety of people one would see if you take a trip. The visitors are mostly multi-national-cultural or rather MNC crowd. The largest crowd being people from somewhere in the middle east part of the globe. There is a bunch of them mostly in the 40s and 50s. Occasionally you will encounter a group of guys in their 30s. All speaking a very familiar language that you would associate with Arabic. Also you would see people from Asia, Philippines and the south Americas, although its hard to distinguish the countries in South America. This is our most visited hang out place. Opens sometimes in the morning and open until midnight, although the staff comes around 11.30 PM arranging chairs and folding the umbrellas and hinting us - its closing time, we will wind up in 15 minutes, as if there was some kind of an event. And yes, it is, if you think about it - A place where tired souls flock around after a tiring, exhausted day at work with the sweltering heat of Houston, somewhere to rest and ease out and relax, to gossip, to smoke and sip coffee. It definitely is an event - An event called REWIND LIFE.
Of the frequent visits that we make, I interact with people disguised as a person not interested in their personal lives but just a stranger who is sitting beside them. In the pauses between the talks with Pinky and between the words while she is speaking to me, I sneak out of our world into theirs. So grab a piece of their day to day lives. Imagine a little , make up a prelude to their conversation and narrate the same to Pinky. Most of the times there is no conclusion but there is always a story. A story although similar but way so different from others. The story of LIVES or PEOPLE.
I intend to bring those stories to you thorough my blogs. With fictitious names and a pinch of imaginary plots, lets stir the coffee of our LIVES.

Peepli Dive on Independence Day

Last night we went to watch “Peepli live”. As Rajeev Masand says its a serious movie with a heart. There are few things to take away as you walk out of the theatre. One - it does not take stars to make an excellent movie. All you need is a sincere storyline and clarity of thoughts. Excellent work Miss Rizvi. Two - The sorry state of affairs in India, which always was there and is becoming worse by the day. Be it Commonwealth games mess or “Shashtri yojana” in the movie. politics as always was a source of exploiting the poor and channelizing tax-payer's money into funding the politicians multi billion business ventures, foreign trips and educations of their kids. Ever wondered, when my Dad’s salary as a bank officer is same, or may be more than the salary of the local MLA (oh yes, they do get salary !), his kids study in the costliest boarding school in Dehradun? whereas all we got was a basic bi-cycle and coudl not dare to ask for a fancy ATB (All terrain bike - Hero Ranger, if you could recollect). Three - How have we become beast-like, insensitive and hungry, competitive and blood sucking animals. I feel pity for the people in media and Budhia. The young journalists who have been portrayed nothing but real in the movie. What are you chasing fellows? and Four - The loneliness of today's individuals. Natha, the central character has hardly spoken a word in the movie. The plot where he gets comfort by hugging the lamb moved me a lot. the feeling of despair could not have been portrayed better. We all sometimes feel the same way when we take a pause and step back and think. Where are we heading? what do we want and the world around sometimes behave like the way characters in Peepli do.
In the end, Natha is shown working as a daily laborer in the city. Please note, there is just a glimpse of Natha and then many unknown faces , or may be known faces in the city working as laborers. Its a story of 8 million Indians and more who might not have gone though the same as Natha did, but have eventually landed where Natha did. That was well derived from the sincere effort of Anusha Rizvi.
I had missed the first fifteen minutes of the movie and when we reached the theatre I wanted to stay after the show so that I could watch the next show’s first part that I have missed. As the movie progresses, people’s emotion were controlled by the screen play. I heard laughter and people literally rolling off their seats with the awesome dialogues and one liners and the typical Indian slang. But somehow, right from the beginning of the story, I felt the scenes were laughable but it was NOT funny. It was not. There was a pain and agony that was running behind the scenes, behind the laughter, behind the Psyche of the common man. The director’s original thoughts and feelings dominated me throughout. As the theater bursts into laughter, I felt more pain and twitch in the heart. Being from a village myself, I have seen many Nathas in my lifetime. It was just re-rendering an old story.
At the end of the movie, i just wanted to leave the theatre and didn't even care to watch the first fifteen minutes any more. I just wanted to leave and so we did. As I was driving with a heavy heart, innumerable thoughts and my known Nathan's faces bombarding my mind, I get a call from India with a wish - “Wish you a happy Independence day”. It was 15th August in India. Over the last couple of years and especially today, I wonder WHAT do I have to celebrate on the Independence day? - Independence from WHOM? and yes, HOW can I celebrate?

Up comes Late

It’s been more than a year and a half I have been parking my car at the PG8 of the HP's Houston office, formerly the headquarters of Compaq. It takes a 5 minutes walk from my desk through the elevator to the PG8 exit. As you exit the revolving gate, you encounter a few familiar faces waiting for one of the three elevators at the garage to stop with a screeching tone similar to the windows error message tone. Some people have very little patience or may be because of a feeling of guilt and satisfaction of taking the stairs instead of the elevator. Satisfaction of self-explaining theory that "Well I don’t need to go the gym because I take the stairs every day". Strange it may sound, but true. Guilt of not able to motivate one self to drag one's body to the gym or the nearby park for a jog.
Anyways, for all these months, I have chosen the Elevator-home-motivate-go-to-gym way. But until recently we had not observed a flaw that even when you press the UP button first and then the DOWN button for the elevator, the elevator to go down comes first. One day, I was thinking out loud - why this happens? And then Raghu, my friend said - "If you want to down in life, there are faster ways to get there". Down elevator takes you the underground parking spot which is dark and wet and no radio or phone signals. Up takes you to an open parking place with natural light and fresh air. The top most is the open sky parking at level seven. This made me think that the unusual behavior of the elevator(I believe in Science and believe that any equipment built and maintained by the specializing companies, OTIS for instance always innovate to make equipments function better) was not merely a electronic flaw, it was a way of demonstrating human tendency of going down. The lift for going up always comes late. An indication of persistence, faith, determination, patience - whatever you want to call it - Things that take you UP in your life towards your goals comes late. Even when you always have more possibility of going down and going down fast, you always have two buttons in your life to press. Just wait a little longer if you want to reach the bright SKY parking level at seven. Way to the shallow parking place at the underground Lower level two is easy. Hold on, it's on the way.

A Fresh Breed of Proud Losers

You must be guessing who is Shaan targeting in the lines to follow. No suspense. Its you and me. Yes we are – A breed of proud losers planning to win greater battles of life in near future!
Once a man from a remote Indian village who excelled in his field of interest as a geologist didn’t join the top organization because he had to relocate to some big city like Mumbai or Delhi to pursue his interest. He joined a bank as a clerk and stayed close to his family, raised his kids armed with values, education, sensibility and global outlook. He did the best he could, sacrificed the passion for rocks, dropped the interest in cinema, probably never heard music as passionately as he used to, lost interest in traveling, blacked out the passion to click photos and worst of all stopped dreaming.
Compromises, if I term that appropriately, is what has my father has done to build and keep a large family united. Quarter of a century later, me and you and most of us are continuing the saga. I would not start on the list of ‘Things-I-could-have-done’ because the blog will never end. I became what most of us were supposed to become. When my father was not able to pursue his interest or passion, he definitely would have pledged that my kids would do better, they would do what I failed to do, what I wished to. Hey…..did I hear you take the same pledged again? Have you ever realized what you wished? Technically they would pursue your dreams and not his/her own. Better you confess now or never blame your predecessors. But let me tell you something straight, we are a better breed of blamers than being just losers. We always have someone or some circumstance to blame for our failures and our non-commitment to pursue our passion. ‘Because’ is the favorite word in the loser’s dictionary. And when you wish something for your next generation, your wish might not come true, the reason being when they look up to you, you wont have a better explanation why you didn’t chase your dreams. Better be prepared with a satisfactory answer. Must be questioning, why I haven’t mentioned my mom, the epitome of a sacrificing middle class woman. The reason being I never figured out what she ever wished and dreamt in her whole life.
One of my dearest friends, once while we analyzed this breed of human species, we figured that we are lost and confused. Having a deep sense of music and passion for art, he now keeps asking himself- ‘What actually am I passionate about’. For years, our attitude to compromise and sacrifice and loosing and failing and blaming someone else have made us all incompetent. One common explanation, we all have is – ‘I did this for the happiness of others’. My dear, as we moved on to the twenty first century, that other person has no time and space in his/her life to be happy for you, because he/she is busy sacrificing and compromising to make someone else happy. It’s a vicious circle.
As we build ourselves today, so will the next generation. Nobody else has nor can create the passion in you. All you could do best today is wake up and start running, go get your dreams, be happy. Live your own life to the fullest. Your sacrifice for someone else will go unnoticed and a quarter century from now, you would not be happy to see what kind of breed you created.

Let them be winners.

Rehydration Of The Soul

I am neither a Poet, nor a Lyricist. Had I been one, I would have for sure been a millionaire and had I been a millionaire, I would not be composing, I would not be writing ! Perhaps they call this the Method of Contradiction, one we used extensively to prove impossible theories in school, specially in Mathematics. So the established theory is - I am not a Poet.
But for sure I was drunk one fine evening watching Palladia channel, with Chivas in my head and pen in my hand, this is what got jotted on the yellow office notepad. Here it goes.........

Rehydration of the Soul

One Saturday night

When I was on stage

You must have thought I was drunk

It wasn’t the Spirit I drunk

The Spirit was drunk.

Time came for the dead to rise

The dumb were singing

It wasn’t a surprise

I thought I was reaching for the goal

Suddenly I realized

It was time for the Rehydration of the Soul

You can live with the mortal thought

And live your life to Crawl

Or crawl as you live

And make it beautiful for all

Its time you realize

Its time you need, Rehydration of the Soul

You don’t wanna die

When you know you stood tall

With all you had in life

Was for you all

When you are high, you know

Still it’s time for Rehydration of your Soul.