Those treasure hunts

Car keys and I don’t go together. In fact keys and I don’t go together. I can also add that wallet, and cash and hair bands and safety pins and buttons and umbrellas and all that paraphernalia and I, don't go together. We constantly elude each other. We like to play hide and seek. We have a distant relationship. It is some conspiracy of nature, some joke of God, or some repulsive magnetic field thing. Or wait, maybe it’s simply that my mind likes to ponder about bigger things. The higher stuff. Alright, enough of blah. The truth is that I am absent minded and I agree.

Here is something that has often happened with me. I come home with some really important document or key or gadget or anything like that. Of course, my extremely careful self puts that thing in some real safe and logical reasonable place. And then after that my mind forgets about it completely. Now, after a few days or months, the time for fruition comes when that very treasure needs to be retrieved. And the search begins. And ends with the thing nowhere in sight. And then as days pass and one fine evening, I am looking for something else I find my old treasure (it is accompanied by a small private moment of pride and appreciation on what a fine place I had kept it in).

Like it happened last time when I was on my India trip this winter. I had taken my winter jacket and was wearing and flaunting it most of the time. Winters are pretty cold in Delhi although they are nothing compared to US. Anyways, so I was wearing the jacket often. One of those times I noticed that the button on the top front side was loose. I immediately removed it and kept it in a safe place waiting to fix it sometime later. Incidentally, the next few days were warmer and I did not have to wear the jacket. Then one day it became very cold again and I took out my jacket suddenly  remembering that the button had come off. Obviously it had to be fixed now before I put it on. I started to look around for the saved button. After looking around a lot I couldn't find any.

Anyways, I managed the winter there with some other jackets, shawls, pullovers. I knew however, that I was going to take this jacket back to US because it was really a warm and nice one. So, with many more search operations (private ones while faking to look for something else) and no success, I reluctantly bought a whole new set of buttons and got them stitched onto the jacket. Reluctant because the older buttons were really fashionable and went very well with it and I did not find any new ones even nearly comparable in style or look. I eventually settled my mind for this new compromise.

Time flew. Soon the trip ended and I was back in US. As I began to unpack guess what happened? I found the lost button. It was in the handbag I had checked umpteen times before. How you ask? In a way it was in the handbag but in a way it was not. Kind of like Hai bhi aur nahin bhi hai (I am suddenly reminded of the scene in the Bollywood movie Chupke Chupke, where Amitabh is trying to tell Jaya how Corolla is a flower and yet it is not; something like that... that movie is my all time favorite by the way). Let me unravel the mystery quick. So, it was inside that handbag, but it was inside a small purse inside the handbag (kinda small pouch where I keep most of my important stuff like, home keys, some jewelry, important receipts and all that). So, when I searched, I searched in the main big handbag, but not in the bag inside the bag. You see? ... It is really sounding a bit like hai bhi and nahin bhi hai, isn't it? :)

So now, I have the old jacket with the new buttons sewed onto it and the old nicer buttons all safely tucked in some 'safe' place. And … do I know where? Umm... I 'll have to check with my mind and get back to you on that.

A paranoid's account

The decision
She: After contemplating the pros and cons a number of times, "Alright, then I'll go for it".
F: "You can still think about it and get back to me by the evening".
She: "No, I think it should be okay. These days sunrise is pretty early so 5:00 am would not be bad. By the time I am there, it would be bright already."
F: "Okay then, we'll see you soon".

The conversation ends there. A decision has been made. There is still an uncanny feeling but she brushes it off. Recently moved from India taking a cab at night is a big deal. Or not. She is brave. 'It's all in your mind', she comforts herself. The day goes in reading, planning and packing. There is excitement about meeting old friends.

Calling the cab
Soon it is evening. There is call from F again and whatever jitters remain calm down. Time to call the cab guy (CG).

She: "Hi, I need a cab at 5:00 am in the morning to go to the airport"
CG: "What address?"
She: "260, Milson Rd, Apt A-7, Drexton."
CG: "See you in the morning ma'am", in a gleeful, high spirited voice.

Did the driver sound too friendly? Now he knows that there is a woman who is travelling alone in the morning in the dark. Even if it's morning, it's as dark as night. The am or pm doesnt really matter, does it? Was it a wrong decision?

The phone rings again, its mom's sweet voice and there is peace. Time to sleep.

Morning jitters
Wakes up an hour before the alarm is supposed to ring. A bad dream. An uneasy feeling. Can this be an indicator that something bad is going to happen? Her intuition is strong. But she is also paranoid, she knows. She again brushes off the negative thoughts and focuses on the chores.

Its 4:50 am. She is ready. The phone rings.

Caller: "Did you call for a cab for the morning?"
She: "Yes."
Caller: "I am at Wilson st. Do I need to take a turn ...", asks for directions.
She: "...." gives directions.

After 5 minutes, phone rings again.

Caller: "Baby, I am here, waiting for you outside."
She: "Okay, I 'll be there in a couple of minutes."

It's a weird male voice. He addresses her "Baby" without even meeting. That's eerie. Anyways, she musters all her courage, remembers all the Gods, locks her door and walks up to the cab. It is dark outside. Very dark.

The Close shave
Driver: "Hi" in a feminine voice.
She: "Hi" a pleasantly surprised voice after knowing the cab driver is female.

But wait, she looks really weird. She is bulky. Curly hair, lot of make up on the face and heavy jewellery. Why would she wear all this? The fears are now coming back. Shake it off, woman, she says to herself and tries to make a conversation. She knows that is her only chance to make her feel better. Otherwise, her mind is going to cook stories of its own.

She: "So, you had to wake up early in the morning to pick me up?" trying to sound like one with a sense of humor.
Driver: "Oh no not really." And then she turns back and makes a weird face and smiles sarcastically, "you know, I am a night driver. I like to travel in the night. No one around. Empty streets."
She: Gulps and manages a bleek "Oh ok", but the stress on the word night has shaken her to the core.

There is silence. Butterflies in stomach. Trying hard to brush weird thoughts aside. Suddenly the cab turns to a street that would go on to meet the freeway. It is a two miles long stretch. There is forest on both sides and the empty road. And darkness. All noises would be easily muffled. What chance does she have if the driver stops the car onto the side and decides to be hostile. Heard of being at the wrong place at the wrong time? The 80% forest area in NC was only beautiful in the day, she thought. At night, she would prefer to be in the ever busy streets of Manhattan, NY.

More butterflies. If bad is going to happen anyways, it rather happen now. Make a conversation. Dig deeper. Face the truth, now!

She: "Are you taking Gorman to I-40?"
Driver: A curt "Yes", in a matter of factly tone, as if she knows what she is doing and she does not want to reveal more.

She musters her courage again and tries to break the silence.

She: "So, how long have you been in Drexton?"
Driver: "Quite a while actually. I came here many years ago. So its been a long time, yeah." Sounds a little warm this time and real.
She: "Ok. So do you like it here?" trying to sound cool hiding her shakiness.
Driver: "Umm .. yeah ... actually yes. Its a nice small place. Its warm. Nice people."

'Nice people' she said. She likes nice people. That sounds comfortable! But it's still dark. Some more conversation would help.

She: "Yeah. I like it too here", sounding as amicable as possible, trying hard to connect.
Driver: "Do you study here? Going for vacation for Easter haan?"
She: Getting comfortable now, and genuinely interested in the conversation for a change, "Yeah, I am here with my husband, studying ... Going to friends on the long weekend..."
Driver: "You married so young?"
She: Clarifying, "Well, I turned 30 this year. That isnt so young."
Driver: "Oh ..I have two daughters in their 20's ... like you my older one doesn't look her age ...".
She: "..."
Driver: "..."

Back to good old days
Soon the passenger discovers that the driver is not a threat to her life after all. In fact she is a nice benign person who knows about the Indian "Chapatti", "Parantha", "Tandoori chicken". Add to that she has also learnt a few words in Hindi through her Indian friends. She is from Kenya. There is a regular mention of her family during the conversations. In between, she cracks a joke or two and chuckles. Her laughter is no more evil. It is genuine, innocent and carefree. Even infectious. So much for the paranoia and the butterflies. The rest of the 20 minutes are plane friendly chat. They wish each other Happy Easter. They also discuss how they wonder why Easter was on a Sunday when it is supposed to be on the third day after Good Friday, which should be a Monday. They both feel strongly about it, but let it go. Soon they are at the airport. She leaves her card and says anytime they need a cab she could be their personal driver. They wish each other good luck and happy vacations. The driver gets a good tip.

So maybe the lady driver likes to travel in the night because there is no traffic after all, she contemplates in a light mood during the flight. On reaching her destination she shares this account with friends. They find this atrociously funny and unbelievable. They cannot understand how someone can be so paranoid.


It happens.

A dream forlorn

Just some personal thoughts ...

It's a dream, forlorn.

At the crack of dawn-
Between the sea and the beautiful sky
On the brink of horizon,
With the promise of sunrise…
A hope is born.

The divine hand –
A dancing breeze, some soaring waves
Whispers of land to the sails…
A frail boat lingers on.

Thus, stroke after stroke,
On the canvas of hope…
A picture is drawn.

Faith is thy name,
Oh the light in my flame.
My dream you adorn.

With the storms, will you haggle?
From my side, will you battle?
For the question hereon -
“Will she, wont she
Enkindle her dream of aeon?"

It's a dream, forlorn.