Destiny

All of us at some point of time have made this sagely statement – If it has to happen, it will. In these cases of course, we are all referring to fate taking control. And some teeny part of us wants to believe in something like fate... something that would have a say in the whole cosmic picture of our life... something that lets us believe that though things aren’t in our control, they are taken care of by some power, which is hopefully on our side. And it also acknowledges that some things just aren't in our hands and it precedes from the requirement of making a decision. And why am I rambling on now? Destiny once more proved it's existence in my life yesterday, you know, just in case I forgot.

The moment I stepped out of my apartment yesterday, I saw the bus pull over. And so, I got in, swiped my Navigo, found an empty seat and settled in for the 8 minute ride with the right song on the i-pod. While I adjusted my earphone, my left hand brushed my ear lobe only to realize that my earring was missing it's lower dangling part (this was one of those annoying kokki earrings which you looped into your ear and had no back plug). And so I scanned the ground. Fortunately the bus was empty and I probably didn't appear like a complete psycho as I frequently switched seats to look beneath each of them for the missing piece. After scanning about 5 minutes, I decided that it was indeed lost and it was sheer bad luck. Having accepted my fate, I took off what remained of the earrings, put them  away and got zoned out into the rest of the journey. In my office, as I peeled away my layers, and untangled the scarf from my neck, suddenly, there it was, nestled amidst the folds, the missing part of the earring. The luck had all transformed. Delighted by the unexpected find, I attached the pieces together, rammed the minuscule gap between them with a heavy book for good measure and now certain that it wasn't coming off anytime soon, I wore them again.

And so the day wore on, busy as hell. Back home finally and worn out, I went to splash some water on my face. And that's when I noticed it. The earring was gone. This time in whole. And I hadn't a clue where or when. Fate...

Wrong-footed

Has it happened to you when on some day almost everything goes wrong? Congratulations you’ve met Murphy! Well yesterday was one day sprayed with quite a bit of incident. All was well till the evening when S and I were going out to meet friends as always on weekends. The first incident was at the first bar we stopped at, Le Drapeau after scourging like 15 bars in the center of Paris. It was one of those places, clean tables, high-priced drinks and not-so-crowded, making you wonder if the drinks weren’t good or what was.

Klutz, Part 1 –> We didn’t spot anything right away and ordered drinks even though it was past ‘Happy Hour’. The cocktails were a bit overpriced at 8.5€ but I figured if the glass was big, then it wouldn’t matter that much. And so in the gang of 7, I was sitting at one corner and I after feeling a bit warm indoors with the coat on, I took it off to drape it on the empty chair next to me. And while I reached over, the waiter coming over with the tray of drinks didn’t see my hand which in turn knocked over 2 beers all around the other drinks, the floor, my jacket and what not. I knew I wasn’t entirely to blame and I hadn’t even had a drink yet. Funny. And I was right about the place too. The cocktail was soo miniscule that it vanished into me in no time with no effect or satisfaction. The place was largely overpriced. No wonder there were empty tables on a Saturday night.

Stomachs rumbling, we then hunted down an Indian restaurant in the heart of Chatelet to dine in. And we found a couple of them. After comparing menus and prices we settled on one in which the owner uncle seemed rather enterprising.

Klutz, Part 2 -> Getting bored waiting for a table outside, a friend and I went inside to wait. And no sooner had I gone in and tried to lean on the side rail to allow other customers to pass, I knocked over a vase. And believe me, I wasn’t drunk from the not-so-visible cocktail. I only just caught it in time to realize that neither was the vase glass nor were the flowers real. So, it wouldn’t have mattered ultimately, I guess. I set it right and vowed to watch my step.

Klutz, Part 3 –> Of course things didn’t happen as I’d planned. The waiter led us downstairs to the well-lit cave basement to our table. And I tripped. On the steps and thankfully I balanced myself on something before cascading down the steps or something just as embarrassing. The downside was that I twisted my wrist a bit. A small price to pay for being spared the horror of a fall, I suppose. And visibly everyone started being careful around me. But right after that I guess Murphy ran out. Or I stopped noticing. And so I survived. We all did. Whoosh. Some days you are just happier that the day is over. I was, last night.It was enough excitement for a 2-hour outing.

Ready? Jet... Go!

I flew Jet Airways to India when I came here this time. Of course that meant I was prepared for the sheer volume of our junta in the plane, outnumbering any other nationality by many-many to one. And it was a pleasant change to note that they carried more vegetarian meals than any other. Having flown other intercontinental flights in the past, I was used to being served the meal ahead of anyone else as it was earmarkedly special for me, being vegetarian. I noted in amused delight that on Jet, the 'non-vegetarian-non-Indian' meals were served first up while the vegetarians were the bulk of those being served. And since the flight was headed to Chennai, there was instant recognition in the Tamil chatter in the flight as soon as I entered panting and puffing from running at least 2km, I am sure from the previously delayed connecting flight (this warrants a post by itself). After making sure that my unceremoniously small carry-on (because of French regulations) wouldn't fit anywhere in the cabin space near my seat (big fat surprise considering a zillion Indians were travelling, more than half from the US with kids meaning they each had overstuffed bags splitting on the sides all dumped into the cabin without an inch space to spare), I went on to put it in the first class cabin someplace and settled into my economy class seat next to an Indian lady with 2 small children. While we started gabbing away in Tamil as to our whereabouts and origins in rapid Tamil, I heard the shrill cry of an attention-demanding toddler. It wasn't till then that I looked around. I visibly counted 12 kutti children in the seats around me, many of them probably born abroad and going to visit thatha-pattis (grandparents) in India for the first time. What a sight! As much as I like children, I did dread the prospect of incessant crying from one baby or the other, one of the common pet peeves among travellers till they have children of their own, I suppose. I wasn't wrong. For the 9 hours that the flight travelled from Brussels to Chennai there was one unhappy child after another, wailing about something or the other. The parents tried in vain to get their over-enthusiastic kids to sleep... some tried getting the older ones glued to a cartoon or two on the excellent in-flight personal entertainment system, some tried walking the bored toddlers up and down the narrow aisles, often running into the air hostesses who kept coming with one service or the other. Some others tried cooing softly, singing, yelling, threatening and what not. There was this little boy in the seat in front of me. He must've been a little less than 2 and I don't know his name, but he looked like a Rishi. He spoke in this delightful baby Tamil with broken sentences in a Junoon-like fashion (those who've seen Junoon in Tamil for sure understand what I mean). It was very cute.... but halfway I think he got pissed with being strapped to a single place and became highly cranky. But he would angle across his seat and sometimes catch my eye. For that one instant, through his tear-filled eyes, his crying would stop for half a second and a reluctant smile would spread across his tiny face. I guess it was the fact that someone was watching him that made him self-conscious at such a small age and briefly his babyness vanished. Kids!!

That apart, of course as soon as the flight landed practically everyone rose to grab their bags and rush out the exit... sure, we could all fly more than 9 hours but these last 9 minutes is where we 'gain' time. I've never understood people in this aspect. I had to wait till the flight had all but emptied to retrieve my bag from the first-class cabin.. And last out, I was the last on the bus that awaited to take us to the terminal and consequently first out of the bus and first on the immigration queue. :D. Simple LIFO (Last-In-First-Out). Not just that, considering that my bag had possibly just made it because of the excessively delayed Paris-Brussels leg, my checked-in bag was among the first out too.

Well, that proves it... where there's Murphy lurking, there's also Lady Luck around to show her pretty face. Go Jet!

Oh God it's Fry-day

Fry-day because of the bheja-fry (mental trauma of sorts) that I have endured today

Some days it just doesn't pay to get out of bed. Today was just one of those days when Murphy reigned supreme and as always I was left powerless to witness the unfolding of the events. I got up earlier than usual in the hopes of having my tea and breakfast rather than one or the other. Of course there were other plans in store for me. The kitchen gas (hot plate) kept tripping the circuit for some vague reason. It used to do that before and had stopped. But today it flipped with every turn of the knob. And I had my heart set on the tea. And so after various trials and combinations, I had it working and had my tea ready. Which meant I had forsaken the time for breakfast. No biggie. I stepped out of the house to pouring rain, a malfunctioning umbrella and a delayed bus. And I usually time my routine so well that everything matches... i.e, the time I get to the station is just in time for the train and so on. With the rain and delayed bus, it meant I was either going to have to make a run for the train or wait 15 minutes for the next one. Luckily (or so I thought), after a full sprint, I managed to get into the train even as the siren blared and the doors shut. Aha - beat you, Murphy! But I was unsuspecting of the sprawling plans that lay ahead for me. The next station is where I change trains and usually there is a train almost every 5 minutes. Not today. After having made the run and caught the previous train gasping for breath, I found myself waiting over an hour for the next one. And the platform filled up steadily from other arriving trains for transfers on to this one. And I counted 13, that's right thirteen trains pass by on the other side while about a million of us on this side waited in frustration for either a train or an announcement or some information. Just like the grass is greener on the other side, the trains are far more frequent on the other side as well, no matter where you're going, just notice.

Finally, a train arrives. And it's bursting at it's seams with passengers who'd endured the hour long wait at the previous stations. And more people squeezed into this one from our station as well. I wanted to get to college alright, but I had to get there alive. I thought I would smartly give this train a skip and wait for the next one, hoping it wasn't far behind. It wasn't. But it was just as crowded and this time everyone who'd skipped the previous train in favor of this one decided they weren't waiting anymore and squelched into this one. It was like a rollercoaster ride, only slower and long-drawn. Only instead of safety belts, it was a million people crammed up against you so you couldn't move a millimeter anyways. In all this struggle, I forgot to put my Ipod away. And it's a tiny Shuffle, mind you and it wouldn't take half a second to vanish or get broken to pieces in that sort of a stampede. Luckily it survived. As did I. And as we all spilled out at the school station (the train practically empties here), we all looked bedraggled and straight out of a hair-raising ride.

And here I am in school. And guess what? The cleanroom is closed for a couple of hours for maintenance. Some days, I tell you, it just doesn't pay to get ot of bed.

Amayadha Naal

I am sure most of us have experienced this phenomenon. Its a vague twist of Murphy's Law. You go out shopping.. you have the money, the mood and the time. But nothing fits. Either the color is wrong or the size is wrong or the style is wrong and just about nothing is perfect. SM used to say this back when we were in San Diego that "love didn't happen". That roughly meant that -"Yeah it fits... yeah its ok.. but is it so great that I need to buy it?" Along the way, I noticed another phenomenon - the adaptation to the prices. Noticed how when you check out something in a new place for the first time you almost always never think its priced right? Either its exorbitant (which is my feeling 99% of the time) or its soo inexpensive that its got to be cheap (that's happened a couple of times too, believe it or not!). But eventually as you settle down to a place, you adapt to the price. And so 40€ boots sound perfectly reasonable. That's what happened to me yesterday. It was evening time... I was done with the cooking and I had about 2 hours before the husband returned. What better time than to visit the nearby shopping strip and take a look? So I went. The prices were reasonable.. the choices plenty but NOTHING fit for the exact same reasons I mentioned above. This was the AMAYADHA NAAL( tamil for the day that doesn't fit right). After 2 hours... 8 pairs of boots.. 2 dresses... 3 skirts and 2 tops later, I left the store.. with nothing.

Bloody Murphy

Murphy's Law: What can go wrong will go wrong

Its my 200th post and I take the opportune moment to discuss Murphy's Law with you folks. I bet almost every person who knows of Murphy's Law has experienced it and knows that it does hold good in the best of situations..

Today was one of those days I cursed it... I got up 30 minutes past what I wanted to, having given myself the luxury to sleep more after a late night... I decided I would take the 7:30 am bus. On an average I require about 16 minutes to briskly walk the distance from home to the bus stop. Today I had 12. I ran at full-speed, jogged and power-walked till I reached the bus stop all huffing and puffing.

7:29am - Yoo hoo.. I'd beaten the clock; the bus hadn't come early -> hence I beat Murphy's Law. Or so I thought.

Now lemme explain the situation. At the transfer point where I take the next bus, I have two options - Route 120 - once every 30 minutes- a bus that leaves right after the first one reaches, and takes a half hour to get to work or Route 20A - once every 30 minutes- a bus that leaves 15 minutes after the first one reaches and reaches in 10 minutes to work - which reaches me faster and gives me time for a morning coffee. I usually skip the former bus in preference to the latter.

7:56am - The bus reaches my transfer point. Its 4 minutes ahead of time. 120 (the slower one) hasn't even come yet.. I head for coffee. 120 arrives. As I pay for coffee, it leaves. So what? I still have 12 minutes before 20A.

8:15am - I gulp down the last of the coffee - No sign of 20A - no frustration just yet.
8:20am - Usually 20A has come by now and we're halfway to work. Not today.
8:25am - What's going on?
8:30am - 120 (the next 120) arrives. What the helllllll..... I climb in.

Bloody Murphy.