In Passing...

In Passing …

It was a lovely day.

The sun shone bright and the skies were clear. The cool autumn breeze was fresh and laden with the sweet concoction of smells from all the falling leaves. The birds sang merry songs up in the trees. I could hear a well in the distance and dogs barking. I walked along at a gentle pace breathing in the pure country air. I felt rejuvenation – something I had not felt in a little while.

I crunched my way on the cobbled street covered with dry fallen maple leaves, whistling a tune to myself. A little scamp passed by on his dilapidated cycle followed by his bounding poodle which was desperately trying to decide which was the better thing to chase – his master or his own tail. They did not seem to notice me and went their way.

The road sloped into a little valley, gently at first and then more steeply. As I came into the vale, I could see neat little houses, all set in nice rows. Spires of smoke rose from the chimneys of some and maids were about in the vegetable patches looking for potatoes and leeks perhaps.

I went past them and then the road turned towards the right. I followed it. It started growing dark. I noticed that the trees were denser here than the valley I had just left. The road sloped upwards now and was surprisingly bereft of fallen leaves. They must have been blown away down the slope by the wind that was coming down. I could feel a slight drop in the temperature.

I wanted to see where this road led to. It was not as if I had anything else to do anyway, so I continued on. A little further up, I could see a clearing emerge. The trees seemed to fall away to either side and as I came into the clearing the cobbled road ended and from there onwards it became a mowed grassy path lined with neatly pruned hedges.

The path led on straight about a hundred meters to a magnificent Victorian mansion. It looked an impressive sight standing tall in the middle of a lush green plateau set amidst the dense foliage of the mountain. Mammoth Oaks and firs and cedars lined the edge of the lawns on three sides.

My curiosity aroused, I approached the building. I could make out some people strolling about in the gardens in front. I saw more of them on the left of the building. And some more on the right. Almost everybody was dressed in black, completely formal and sombre. I could feel heaviness in the air.

I realized I had walked straight into a funeral! The funeral of a rich man. Possibly the owner and lord of this mansion.

I slowly walked into the gardens careful to stay away from the people lest they see me as intruding. I recognized the Lord Mayor of the town and his wife talking with the local councilor. He was saying, “He was a fine man. A man with great riches, but also one with a great heart. He gave to all without hesitation. It will be a long time before this town sees another soul like him.”

At the mention of soul, the councilor, a small man shuddered involuntarily and murmured ascent, “God bless his soul”, and crossed himself before excusing himself.

The Lord Mayor stared at him for a while through his monocle and then continued the conversation with his wife.

I passed a young couple. The girl was trying to console her partner.

“He was a good man. I liked him. Everybody liked him. It is tragic. Your brother was very kind to us all. He will find peace.”

“Oh, it should not have happened like this.” … sob…sob … “in the prime of his life” … sob … sob …

I pressed on slowly down the gardens towards the side of the house. I saw a large garage that could house six automobiles. There was a bright red Lamborghini in the center. I saw to the right, a Ford All Terrain and a pickup. In the far left corner sat a Morris Oxford resplendent in olive green and with gleaming silver chrome. The family limousine occupied a larger bay next to the Morris. One slot to the left of the Lamborghini was empty.

“Loved cars my master did. He took out the Spider like every morning but he never came back,” the gardener was pointing out the vacant space to a police constable who was taking notes disinterestedly. “The truck pushed the car clear off the cliff”.

I loved cars myself and I felt sorry for the guy to have gone the way he did.

I had almost reached the far end of the lawns near the back of the building when I noticed four men digging a trench. I could see the previous generation’s marked graves and the ornate head stones. I did not like the feel of it and started walking back. I wanted to leave this place. I had seen enough.

I was passing the garage on my way back to the grassy path when all the people started moving towards the front as well. I fell in among the crowd as they quietly and reverently congregated around the front porch.

The hearse arrived slowly. A black Lincoln limousine adorned with white wreaths drove up the path. I noticed the arrival area was covered in a layer of pure white lilies and a table was set up for the final homage. At the table waited the bishop in his funeral robes.

The hearse drew up and stopped noiselessly. Six pall-bearers lifted the casket and set it gracefully atop the table. The top half of the lid was open but I could not see the face from the back of the crowd.

The Bishop said a short prayer and then people filed in with wreaths and bunches of flowers to place beside the casket. Some cried inconsolably. I saw the brother shaking his head all the time in utter disbelief, held onto tightly by his partner. The Lord Mayor placed a red ribbon and a medal beside the casket. It was the Victoria Cross for distinguished service to the community and the nation. The last memorial was read by the Bishop and the last few people stepped forward to pay their respects.

I walked up behind them, clutching a white blossom.

I saw the face.

I was stupefied. The whole world started spinning before me and I suddenly felt far far away, as though I was looking upon this scene from up above the clouds.

I did not notice the casket being closed. The crowd began moving as the pall-bearers lifted the casket and set on its final journey – towards the grave. Flowers were strewn ahead of the procession.

The sun had gone down behind a cloud and I walked up behind the procession until they came to a halt beside the grave. I watched as they lifted the casket and lowered it in.

I could hear faintly, “ashes to ashes….dust to dust….”

The sign of the cross was made and mud was tossed in. People moved away until only the diggers remained.

As they started filling up the grave, my vision started to blur. I could not see the people anymore. I could not see the house anymore. I felt darkness close in on me and a rush of panic rose in my stomach. I wanted to go back. I had things to take care of.

Then I saw it. A bright source of light not far away. I reached with my hand and felt being led towards it. I reached it. I stopped.

For a moment everything became clear again. I could see the mansion and the people. I could see the garden and the path. I could even see the road I had taken and the green valley. The tramp kept on his cycle, like he always did, followed by his faithful poodle, like it always did. And the maids continued to reap potatoes, like they always did.

A feeling of happiness welled up inside of me and at once it was clear to me what I had to do.

No one saw me pass through the light.

- The End
A short story
29-June-2006.

E. S. P. (a.k.a.) The Sixth Sense

E. S. P. a.k.a. The Sixth Sense
(Extra-Sensory Perception)

The knocking woke him up.

It was dark. After all it was the middle of the night. The luminous dial of the time-piece by his bed told him it was 2 am.

The knocking came again, loud, continuous, and urgent. He tried to adjust his vision to the darkness and stumbled out of bed. A pale glow came in through the window and he felt a cold draught. It surprised him. The windows were closed. She always made sure of that each night. He reached for the light switch when his foot caught on something and he almost tripped. He got the switch and in the bright light he saw her.

It was a macabre sight. She lay in a weirdly contorted position on the ground her neck obviously broken and a trickle of blood on the floor seeping from under her hair. The shattered remains of a glass and its contents were strewn around her.

He tried to scream, but no sound would come out. He tried to move, but he did not know which way to go. His mind has been paralyzed by shock. Fear gripped his every nerve.

This time, again, it was the knocking that got him back to his senses. It was more than just knocking now. It was desperate banging. He shook himself and moved out of the bedroom and into the living room towards the main door. The banging grew more intense.

As he passed the fireplace, his hand automatically grabbed a china flower-vase. He did not even notice he did it. Something suddenly was different. The knocking! It had ceased. He moved to the door and slid the deadbolt and turned the knob. It wouldn't budge. He tried again. The door opened so suddenly onto him that he staggered backwards. He felt himself bodily lifted and thrown into the far wall of the room. He flew in the air and landed onto the fireplace. The delicate vase he was clutching shattered. He crashed to the ground and his whole body felt like it had been through a full cycle in a washing machine.

The menacing form came through the door and slowly advanced towards him, making a weird gurgling noise. His vision was blurred with his own sweat and blood and he could not see exactly what it was. Instinct told him to run and adrenaline came to his rescue. He got up. Miraculously he had not broken any bones from his being tossed. He frantically looked around for a weapon. His eye fell upon the heavy iron poker by the fireplace. It was about five feet away and the creature was almost on him.

He lunged towards the fireplace and just got to the poker moments before the creature was upon him. He thrust the pointed end at the creature's face with all his might and heard the crushing impact of iron on bone and felt the jarring contact at the same time. It gave out a howl and backed away.

He realized he had momentary respite and took the chance to run towards the open door. He got through safely enough and ran out onto the corridor. He saw three more hideous creatures advancing from the left of the long corridor and he ran right. It was not a difficult choice to make really.

He ran on. He tried to think at the same time. What was happening? How did these creatures come inside? The bubble was safe territory. The outer shields were impregnable. It was impossible for them to have got in! But here they were. Why did they come to his quarters? What had happened to the others? He had not passed anyone yet. He remembered her. She was dead. No question about that. The creature or creatures had killed her.

He stopped running. He strained to hear any noise that might warn him of approaching danger. No sound came. He looked around. He was next to the canteen area. He knew down the corridor past the canteen and up a flight of steps was the weapons store. They never carried any weapons normally but kept a store just in case. Just in case of what, no one was really sure. But he was sure that now was just such a case.

He could reach the weapons store in under a minute. First though he had to get the bio-electronic signature pass-key to open the store doors. Only one person on the station had access. This was the programs co-coordinator and head of station. Her quarters were not far from where he stood. Cautiously he peered around the corner. Nothing in sight. As quietly as possible he went in the direction of the senior staff quarters. As he rounded the last corner and approached the access door he caught sight of one ugly fiery creature come bounding towards him. He fumbled for his access card that he always wore around his neck on a plastic string and shoved the card in across the face of the reader.

The doors opened with a faint hiss. He rushed inside and hit the red button set on the wall just inside the door. The doors began to close. The doors almost closed completely when the creature smashed into it like a super-charged bull. The door buckled under the enormous force and the circuitry disintegrated. Luckily the doors did not pop open. Instead they got well and truly jammed. The creature started pounding on it.

He knew he just had moments before it got through the doors. He looked around to find the co-coordinator. That was when he saw the bodies. There were at least five of them in that room. He could see four more bodies in the adjacent room. All nine of them were dead! There were only eleven of them at the station. He was the only one alive! The realization struck him like a bolt out of a crossbow. He saw the co-coordinator lying in the next room. He stooped to pick up her wrist-band that would give him access to the weapons store. He noticed that her neck was also broken. Like some powerful force had turned it rapidly about 270 degrees. The trickle of blood left no doubt as to the nature of death.

The banging now grew louder. There was more than one creature outside that door. There was no way out. Think! There must be some other way other than the door. He saw the air duct on the ceiling. Quickly he dragged a reclining chair under it and stood on it. A firm push and the duct cover gave. He pulled himself into the narrow duct on the ceiling. He moved into it in the direction of the next room away from the creatures by the door. He knew the next room opened into the corridor further down and with some luck he might be able to get to the stairs. He came to another duct opening just like the one he had got in through. He tugged at the cover and moved it away into the duct. Cautiously he peered over the rim and to his relief found the room to be empty. It was a dining room.

He dropped to the floor silently and moved towards the door. He put his ear to it and there was no one on the other side of it. He could hear the door of the room he had just left crash inwards and the creatures get through. He quickly opened the door and scooted down the corridor. He could hear the creatures come after him. He reached the stairs and went up them three at a time. He reached the weapons store. He put his own palm on the bio-scanner and then thrust his co-coordinator’s wristband into the slot for cross-confirmation. The system accepted his entry and the doors opened. He got in and closed the doors in the nick of time. He looked around at the assortment of weapons that lay around him in neat wall brackets and cupboards. He saw the most sophisticated and the most lethal generation-Q plasma guns and the power cartridges. Surely all this was superfluous for a station that was not considered dangerous?

He realized there must have been something he had missed in the introductory course. There was only one way he could escape this place now. And that was to get to the escape pod. The station had one as did any other Z-Grade standard design station.

He unlocked the doors and ran for it. An army of creatures chased him. He fired away his plasma gun and brought down several of the creatures. But their sheer numbers overwhelmed him. They came at him from all sides. Finally he was overpowered and one of them got to him.

It grabbed him by the neck and up close he could see the green fiery eyes with the thin yellow pupils. That was the last thing he saw as the creature viciously twisted his neck and his gun clattered to the floor. Silence followed.

* * *

A few moments later he awoke with a start. He felt cold and clammy. He was drenched in sweat and his breath was rapid and in short bursts. His throat was dry and in reflex reaction he gingerly felt his neck. It was not broken. He was not dead. It was dark. He must have had a nightmare. Saturn Station Z7 was a safe scientific research outpost. He had had a tiring day. He needed a drink.

The luminous dial of the time-piece by his bed told him it was 2 am.

He tried to adjust his vision to the darkness and stumbled out of bed. A pale glow came in through the window and he felt a cold draught. It surprised him. The windows were closed. She always made sure of that each night. He reached for the light switch when his foot caught on something and he almost tripped.

Then he heard the knocking.

- THE END
A short story
(Written: 15-June-2006)

Cricket, my heart beats for you!

From the urchin's street corner version to the casual backyard game, from the soft tennis ball version to the proper gentleman's game on a turf wicket in a lush green field, now, after so many years, I have played it all. And boy, is my heart a-flutter!

I am no great cricketer, but I like to think I can bat and bowl at a decent level and for me just playing the game any which way is like a sip of elixir to a parched mouth. And what better place to find elixir than in the sporting capital of the world - Melbourne, the heart of the best cricketing nation. Boy, am I glad my association with IBM has brought me to this corner of the globe.

It was bound to happen. In Melbourne, you just have to play atleast one sport or game. If you aspire to be counted as anything that is. Involve yourself in some game and you feel the pulse of the place flow in your veins and all of a sudden you have so many friends.

Well, yours truly and his mates were getting bored at home so we got a Table Tennis table and set it up in the courtyard of our apartment. I play regularly (read at least an hour everyday) and the fun it lends to an otherwise monotonous life is fantastic.

What wouldn't have got any more than passing mention if I had had written this piece a few days earlier is the fact that I did play some backyard cricket and some cricket on basketball courts and tennis courts all along. I have been to a few games here including the ICC World XI vs Australia match at the awesome Telstra Dome, the former Docklands Stadium. I have watched Pura and ING Cup games at the lush Junction Oval just across teh road from my apartment.

Then came the announcement about the corporate games in Victoria and I am honoured to be part of the team to represent Philip Morris International in the state level corporate Cricket 8s competition.

Our team now trains two to three days a week during the lunch hour. It is a nice feeling to get those pads on and wield the willow again after a long time. I hope to get going well and put on a good show for my team, fingers crossed.

I remember all too well the electric series I played in when I was in Mumbai and working with Patni Computer Systems Ltd. My good mate Damu captained us wonderfully and we, rank underdogs, almost staged a great upset winning seven matches in a row with our final victory coming of a last ball six! I am sure the kind of adrenaline that flowed then will flow again soon.

I am excited, if you haven't noticed yet. :-) And that is because, a lot of TT notwithstanding, my heart truly beats for cricket. In the land of the greatest batsman of all time, the great Sir Don, I am really excited to get to play good cricket. It might only be 8s and only a weekend competition with a few 'not ptoper' rules, but it is cricket and that is enough for me. I shall always root for the game and cricket will never fail to make my day.

* * *

As a closing note to all my readers, I am glad I did write again after a long break. I am back in blogosphere! :-)

Chickpea Cholay a.k.a. Channa Masala

Hi,

Here is some information to help any new cooks with making Channa Masala. Atleast this is how I do it. Any enhancements and suggestions are welcome.

Ingredients:

Basic ingredients:
A couple of handfulls of Chickpeas
A large ripe tomato cut in quarters
A large red onion cut in quarters
A couple of green chillies
A pinch of jaggery
A small clove of garlic
A bit of ginger
A tablespoon of Sunflower oil
A teaspoon of Garam Masala
A couple of teaspoons of Cholay Masala
Salt to taste

For the seasoning:
2 teaspoons of cumin seeds
2 teaspoons of Mustard seeds
A pinch of turmeric powder
1 tablespoon of Ghee (clarified butter)

For the garnish:
Washed and finely chopped fresh coriander

The Procedure:
Step 1: Firstly, let the chickpeas soak immersed in water for a couple of hours. This will make the chickpeas easier to cook.

Step 2: Cook the soaked chickpeas in sufficient water till they are soft. The best way of doing this is to use a pressure cooker and cook the chickpeas in it for 4-5 whistles of steam. Alternately you may use a pan on a stove or the microwave if you are adept at that. :-). Drain the water and keep aside the cooked chickpeas for now. Make sure the chickpeas are fully cooked by testing one with your finger.

Step 3: Making the Gravy:
The key to the flavours in the dish is the gravy. Grind the cut onion and tomato in a food processor/mixie in a puree. In the process of the grinding, add the chillies, garlic, ginger and jaggery to the puree and grind to a fine paste.

Get a pan onto the stove. Warm a tablespoon of sunflower oil in it and add the puree into the pan and sizzle-fry it. The aim of this exercise is to take away any of the raw sharp flavours/smells of the onion and garlic. Add required water to maintain the gravy at a reasonable consistency. Keep the gravy to a boil for a few minutes. (In case you added extra water boil it off!)

Step 4: Putting it all together:
Once the gravy is cooked at the proper consistency, add the cooked chickpeas into it and continue to cook. Add the Garam Masala and the Cholay Masala. Make sure you stir the gravy occassionally to keep it from sticking onto the bottom of the pan. Add salt to taste. When cooked enough, take the pan off the stove.

Step 5: The seasoning:
Warm the ghee in a pan and add the cumin seeds, mustard and a pinch of turmeric in. As the mustard and cumin seeds splutter, take the pan off the stove and add the spluttering mixture into the gravy. Please be careful not to get some of the spluttering ghee on your hands as that can be a little un-nerving! Ladle out some of the gravy into the spluttering pan to take out all of the ghee in it. Mix the gravy well.

Step 6: The Final Garnish:
Finally, get the cooked, seasoned Cholay into a serving pot. Garnish the Cholay by sprinkling some finely chopped coriander onto it.

Serve the cholay as a side dish with chappathis, pooris or rice.

Hope you enjoyed this recipe. Bon apetite!

Bitten by the Tag-Bug!

Morning... Just awake... only barely...
Knock knock... who's there?...
BANG... CRASH... dust and bright light... a booming voice... "You have been tagged by your Pal!"
Mortification... So it was true after all... I try to turn around wanting to run for my life... Petrified... can't move... Astonishment... fear... confused... helpless... futility... resignation... "What do want me to do?"

Him: Answer a few questions.
Me: First tell me why this is happening!

Him: Pal has tagged you with the book-bug.
Me: Pal! He gets many ideas!

Him: Do you like to read?
Me: I love to read.

Him: What do you read?
Me: I read everything from comics to magazines and short stories to full novels. True stories, fiction, fantasy and accounts.

Him: What languages do you read in?
Me: I prefer English, although I have read a little in Hindi too.

Him: What are you currently reading?
Me: Inca Gold by Clive Cussler.

Him: How many books do you own?
Me: Too many. Running out of space to shelve them.

Him: Where do you buy books?
Me: No single place. I have bought at Crossword, I buy here in Melbourne from a second hand store, from Munna-Bhai in Mumbai...

Him: How do you choose a book to buy?
Me: I look for the reviews most of the times and my friends point me on to a book they have found to be good. Sometimes I just read blurbs at a bookstore and pick one up by intuition.

Him: What is your most recent buy?
Me: A compendium of three books in one hardback by Archer.

Him: What do you pplan to read next after Inca Gold?
Me: The Rule of Four by Ian Caldwell and Dustin Thomason. I have borrowed it from the St Kilda public library.

Him: Is that a good library?
Me: It is paradise to any book lover. A fantastic collection of books and CDs and DVDs and audio books too. And guess what, it is all free for any resident of this place.

Him: That is impressive, enough cause for envy amongst your friends.
Me: Yes, make sure you tell Pal.

Him: Do you gift books?
Me: If the person I am gifting likes to read or even would like to start reading, I would choose a book straight away.

Him: What was the last book you gifted?
Me: A set of two leatherbound classics to my best friend at her engagement.

Him: Any book that left a lasting impression on you?
Me: Many in fact. One specifically would be Acts of Faith by Erich Segal.

Him: Is there a book that you could not finish?
Me: A few. One comes to mind immediately: Five Patients by Michael Crichton. I am not made for such types of narrative I guess.

Him: Name a few books you would recommend to a fellow reader.
Me: The Class by Erich Segal
Malgudi Days/Swami and Friends both by R. K. Narayan
Jonathan Livingston Seagull by Richard Bach
The Mill on the Floss (un-abridged) by George Eliot
The Black Arrow by Robert Lewis Stevenson
The Client by John Grisham
The Bridges of Madison County by Robert James Waller
...and many more

Him: Which do you think is the best movie made out of a book?
Me: This is tough to answer. There are many to begin with. And there are different themes. I would leave this to the opinion of the individual. I will say only that I believe the charm of a book can never be truly captured on screen. Imagination that brings a book you read to life is your own while a movie is the imagination and interpretation of another, however good it may be.

Him: You have done well so far with all the questions. I have no choice but to leave you in peace now.
Me: In fact, come to think of it, I enjoyed the interrogation. Only you could have un-petrified me! Now get lost will you!

More light... dust... a chill blast of air... suction... mist... a warp... and suddenly quiet... I can move... I go to the kitchen for a glass of water... and to make some breakfast... Come to think of it, Pal, good on you... you have set me thinking. :-)