The Garageans!!!

(This is truly a sincere attempt of attempting unhealthy criticizm about all the characters i lived with, including myself, during the two years of my MBA)

PART - 1

Kumar’s Unforced Congeniality



If anybody asked Kumar whether he’s an engineer, he had two answers ready to avoid the conversation going any further. Either he would say, “Yes, but I am an engineer by chance not by choice” or, “It’s an accident that I did engineering; anyways the damage was done only to engineering and not to me”. At least that was what he planned to tell people to project himself as a witty person. But, if anybody did ask the same question with a slightly raised decibel level, Kumar felt defeated and cowed and helpless and would start shrinking within himself. He would answer, “Yes” and keep silent with an awkward smile which would force the other person to immediately look for some support to save him/her from Kumar’s unforced congeniality. He was a sweet, warm, friendly guy, who could make friends with anybody within a short span of ten to fifteen months. He believed in monosyllabic answers so that he could save huge amount of energy by not speaking, however, he was not sure what he was saving that energy for. Even a non-stop-non-sense like Krutik could not sustain for more than few seconds when Kumar extended his amiability. However, Krutik did not have any choice as he had to spend the two years in Hyderabad with Kumar.

The dry heat of 42 degree Celsius of Hyderabad in early June was something, which Kumar had never experienced in his life. Kumar would rather prefer to be boiled in the Chennai heat than to be fried there. However, did he have a choice? He had to stay there for the next two years for his MBA, get a job that would pay him in lakhs and get settled in life. He knew everything about MBA, landing in a job and getting settled in life as much as he knew about why and how Rajesh could twist his legs three times like two mating snakes, whilst he was sitting. Rajesh was a nice guy from Chennai whose life was very colourful but his only problem was that there were very few colours. He liked experimenting on anything as long as it was vegetarian food. But Kumar was technically a risk-averse person, though life forced him to take many risks. Ending up a friend of Rajesh was one of them.

Apart from being verbose, Kumar had too many other issues in life. He had to wash his hair at least once in two days (poor guy was suffering from an inflammation of the membrane lining a sinus of his skull); to defend Chennai from his friends when they started bad mouthing it; and of course going to college; to name a few really preposterous predicaments God had cornered him to. But he always felt like a phoenix every time he could find a cogent reason to avoid washing his hair; find an even weaker person whom he could beat in the war of words and of course when he could avoid college.

Heaven called Death!!!

Rakkamma, a junior amongst the senior citizens of Vellure, in her short life of 80 years, never had the luxury of letting the sun wake her up. Early mornings in Vellure, a small village in Vellore district, TamilNadu (which is usually mistaken for Vellore) are earlier than in the other parts of India. But still, she was always on a race with the local sun in Vellure, on who begins the day first. And she always managed to beat the sun down with her eyes open.

For a person in her early 80s, Rakkamma was very active, though not by choice. The remnants of poverty, a husband who ran away after making her give birth to 3 useless souls, 2 daughters whose only motive in life was to snatch everything from the lovely mother even if it is misfortune and a son who became a fulltime drunkard at the age of 22, in her body were fighting incessantly against catabolism by increasing the metabolism rate. However, the devil called death is not as easy going with her as the sun was. Age had taken a toll on her, like everything else in life had. But she never gave up, at least till now, for giving up means giving in to death.

Today, as any other day, she got up to wake up the chickens of tomorrow at 0300 hours, which is still yesterday for her loving (alcohol) son. In her effort to fetch water from the well in the backyard, she started walking with a brass vessel. The vessel was doing its job of decelerating her speed to snail pace. On the way, while passing the kitchen by, she looked at the charming portrait of her husband who was old enough to be her grandfather during their marriage and moved ahead without expression. Her painful silence at that moment was louder than any other cacophony in the world.

After 4 agonizing minutes and 3 more agonizing seconds, Rakkamma had yet again beaten the vessel by reaching the well, though in her races nowadays, time is not a measurable parameter. She tied the vessel with the hanging rope and let it into the well. The rope travel was a free fall like Rakkamma’s journey in life. The thud of the vessel hitting the water brought her to reality from a small nap in that early morning which lasted for exactly 4 seconds.

When she tried to pull the water filled vessel up, the algae on the platform, which were products of procreation by the unusual showers over the last week and the cloudy weather, was kind enough to let her legs slip and end her short life of 80 years. Her head hit the concrete beam of the well ever so slowly that the process of the head making contact with the beam took eternity. She closed her eyes in slow motion as usual and never opened it again.

In the entire process, the sun showed its displeasure by not participating.