Arjun again

So I finally got a gift for Arjun again before leaving from US. It was Robot Shoes, which looked exactly like the ones the lead protagonist wore in the animation movie "Robots". They looked really cute to me and I thought it was a good buy. Well, a friend  warned me that he had asked for "remote" controllable toys this time and you should not buy this one. I ignored thinking Arjun is too small to remember all that.

Anyways, when we visited their place in Delhi this time, Arjun just ran up to me and took me to some corner and asked promptly without a hi or a greeting, "Mere liye kya laaye ho?" (what have you brought for me). And I eagerly showed him the Robot stuff. Well, thankfully he dint ask whether it was remote controlled or not but he looked a little confused as to what fun they would be. I explained that these are shoes Robots wear and if you also wear them and walk around they will make similar sounds and you will become a Robot too. He was then curious -"Then what about the Cap on the head and the dress the robots wear? Why dint you bring that?"

Today I met him again and just to distract him from the mischives he was upto I asked him what should I bring you next time. He said "Computer or rather laptop".

The Numbershake

In India at home we initially used to have only one landline connection. I remember when we had got that instrument I had very enthusiastically filled in the label stuck on it with the phone number. As if it was a very responsible thing to do. Also, I think it's almost second nature for me to name or number things, specially books and diaries. Any book that I buy will have my signature on the first page. All my diaries would be otherwise empty but will almost religiously have my name, number, emergency contact and other useless stuff on the first page. All my notes on loose sheets will have the page, lecture number and date. The naming tendency is slowly going away though while I am making a deliberate effort not to be such a narcissist. :-)

Anyways, subsequently while I came to US, another connection was added to the house. Now somehow the old instrument got connected to the new number and a new instrument to the old. The twist in the story being that the dutifully written label of the old phone number was still stuck on the instrument with the now new number. And so this time when I went to India, I had a difficult time making my mind adjust to that change. I would invariably pick up the old phone number to dial thinking it to be the new one or vice versa. It was not much of a big deal though for the other party as they would respond as far as they recognized you or your voice. Only that the call rates were a little different and if you wanted to be more conscious about them you would have to give your mind the trouble.

The extreme happened one day when I picked up the old instrument (with the new phone number) to make a call at my Mom Dad's. Somehow absentmindedly (which by now you know comes so natural to me) I dialed the home phone number itself instead of my mom dad's (the one which was written on the phone I was dialing from but was actually that old number now connected to the new instrument lying just next to it). And you can pretty much guess what happened. The scene went like this - I am dialing our old phone number thinking it is my mom dad's number. And the phone next to mine rings. You know why. But nothing occurred to my mind until then. My eyes only saw the bell ringing on the other phone while I was making a call from the first. I decided to cancel my current outgoing call and pick up the incoming call as no one had received the call yet and I could always call my home later. It was just a normal everyday call. But as soon as I put down the receiver the other phone also stopped ringing. You know why again. But it didnt occur to me still. But the knowledge angels did bless me eventually and thankfully I didnt redial.

It dint happen again.

I graduated today

I graduated today. This is a pic from my grad ceremony. As you can see I am beaming. Today was a small step in my journey towards my goal. Although its only the beginning, I am happy at reaching somewhere. And I want to dedicate this to a lot of people in my life. I consider myself fortunate to have them. I may not have made it here all by myself.

Charlotte Airport

A lady wearing blue jeans and a pale yellow jacket walks across the Food court area. She is carrying a black background, white polka-dotted handbag on her side. She heads straight for McDonalds and stands in line to place her order. So, that is her favorite amongst all of Pizza Hut, Subway, Quiznos etc. Her standard fall back option. Mine would be Quiznos. (Only because I can expect a decent vegetarian meal from it). Another woman joins the line soon. This time its a a blue shirt over embroidered jeans. Good taste I think. After spending a few hours of shopping in New York over the weekend, my taste for fashion is certainly ignited. I can see myself taking special interest in watching what people wear. I remember we used to do this often as a pastime during our college days, it was a lot of fun. Another woman just crosses my table. She is carrying a multi-colored Jaipuri printed bag. With blue and brown as the foundation colors on the bag, I notice that she wears a coffee colored skirt and a light cream top alongwith it. Everything matches so well. Would she wear any other dress while carrying that bag? Or is she one of those who have a matching bag and a sandal for every dress they own. I see that she also wears a white pearl necklace.

Amidst all this, I hear the siren of a moving cart. There are two old ladies and one young woman sitting on it along with a lady driver. They have a smile on their faces. A smile as if they are class I travelers in a train. Lower class people have to walk on their own feet carrying their luggage. They would also give them way as the cart moves across. All the driver needs to do is blow the siren constantly. But he is patient about it.

A guy comes and parks a cart close to other carts and takes out his 25 cent reward from the machine. My friend F and I exchange a glance. We both think the same thing at the moment. We then start reminiscing about how Tom Hanks earns his money in the movie Terminal. We calculate, 25 cents * 10 (carts) = 2.5 dollars. So, you can at least get one burger a day if you can get hold of ten empty carts and park them here. I go a step ahead and calculate 25 cents * 20 (carts) = 5 dollars. So if he can manage 20 carts then he should be able to get food twice a day. How difficult would it be to manage getting 20 carts in a day, my mind prods. Somehow, I want to settle in my mind that it is not difficult to do that. I want evidence that someone doing this can easily manage to have food at least twice a day. If he remains hungry, it would be sad. I feel a perturbation about it.

By now, I feel a slight pain in my wrist. I realize I am not using any support for the writing. I am scribbling uncomfortably on my lap and my hand posture is not good. Deciding to take a break, while I take a short glance around exercising my wrist, I see people looking at me suspiciously. They seem puzzled about what this woman is upto - looking around and scribbling something constantly. My neighbor even sneaks a peek into my writing but I am sure at the speed with which I scribble, my handwriting is so illegible, that she would only worsen the suspense for herself. For a moment, I feel like a criminal. I try to look normal and make a logical conversation with F. I am not insane or prodding into your lives is the message I want to get across. Finally, I choose to stop writing.