Saithan Cycle la Varuthu Ft. Me

I’ve been in Chennai all my life. There are lots of things to point out to Chennai for its glory and specialty. But, there are tons of directors that talk about it. Why am I here now? To talk about traffic- the one thing no one seems to want to write about… or have I missed it? My travel through the city can be divided into three major modes: Walking, Bus and Cycle. Riding in a/a Bike or a car is unbelievably rare for me, because I’ve got a mediocre knowledge of both. There is a very little to discuss about Nada-raja service because, to get caught in traffic when you’re walking is a skill. Either you must be “yo momma so fat” fat or you must be well, have lost your screws up there.
Coming to Bus travel I have already written about it in my previous posts and blogs about all the jannal seat conundrums and ticket kashtams. People who know me, must’ve read it. Here I’d like to tell about my general adventures of Chennai traffic and with my cycle too. Before I start off, I don’t know if bikers and other two wheelers face the similar or even more difficulties, if so, let the Road-u madha bless you with all the chilra you’re gonna vaarify.
Going on Chennai roads is an art. Oru vela athan namma aalungaluku varaliyo? Probably this is the only place in Tamil nadu where the “left la indicator potu right la porathu makes sense”, and might become legal soon. Enna? people want to ban momos, why not ban logic? My cycle has two blinkers, one in the front and one in the rear. I almost always never forget the blinkers when there is no sunlight since I met with a small accident. But I’m not sure, if all these people can see the blinking light. There will be this uncle in a Fuel economy bike whom I think might have asked his wife to make murungakka sambar, murungakka poriyal, murungakka kootu and all, oh and aththi pazham juice too. He will be in ulaga-maga rush to his home, when? When sun is out kolthing. Dei it’s 11.30 da, enga mela otitu nee veetuku poi o… seri okay avarukum vazhi vittuta there will be this couple on R15. She will be sitting in 1st floor and he in basement. I often think that this setup is a sly technique by boys to make the girl hug them during brakes since oru front brake will lead to angry bird action of launching the girl into the air.
Okay da, neengalum ponga, then there will come this share auto driver who must’ve been this kid who didn’t get to ride a cycle. He will take all the inch gap and centimeter gaps and will do his best to do the “Cycle gap la Sindhu paaduvan” thingy, with his share auto. Seri share autovum pogatum nu vitta then, his younger cousin, Auto will come. He will be blessing everyone with all the cuss words and profanities known to mankind and dinosaurkind. I even feel his skills in kazhuvi oothing your family is better than his driving skills. Though these auto annas are better maps than google but they give off more heat than a Redmi phone. Beside this auto there will be one guy in lungi on a RX-100 who will have a 90’s bgm as his horn and will scare all the pazhaya aunties and thathas. Sometimes there will be a girl in his pillion seat who’s face will be mummified in the dhupatta. He will give her heart attack instead of orgasms by driving through all the sandhu bonthu. Dei that is not the gap you must… okay.
Somehow coming past all this, we come to a Major signal in that direction of the city. And past that signal will be your college, home, hostel, bathroom ellam. That signal is the ultimate barrier for all the things in life and I’m pretty sure everyone knows what signal I’m talking about. This signal is designed such a way that, all the following things will happen.
  1. You’ll reach your college for 3rd sem arrear exam if you start for 11th half yearly.
  2. You’ll reach for your child’s 3rd birthday if you’re going to meet your 1st ex-girlfriend.
  3. You start for an interview and reach for your Junior’s promotion. Wait, that won’t happen! Avanukum vela kedachirukathu.
  4. You start during Sherlock Season 5 and reach when Sherlock season 6 promo comes out.
  5. You start for Saravanan Meenatchi… uh… you’ll still end up there.
Then there are these roadu janthus, the maadu-Ola, aadu-Uber, Chinna yaanai-Tata ace, The Karadi government bus who will be ruling the roads and they might even have a will stating, “This is my Grandfather road”. You somehow pass that “ootla soltu vantiya” scooty guy who scolds us for going by rules, and the “kanna enga vechitu vara” XL aunty, aiyyo I meant TVS XL. Barry Allen eh confuse aagura alavuku timeline changes nadanthu eppadiyo green signal vizhum.
When the Signal turns green there will be these idiots who will start honking 0.0001 seconds after green goes off, why da ivlo avasaram? In a nutshell, the only possibility where you reach your destination in time is when your destination is The Signal itself.
Once you’ve time travelled through this signal you’ll then face the bigger demons of the road, oh not the direct contractors of Mr.Yeman – The elemental combo – the Mannu Lorry and the Thanni Lorry – But the all cosmetic imperfections of the road which the cosmic entity in itself would not know why. First there will be a speedbreaker, but it will be taken because it would be too bumpy for vehicles, so they will remove it half-heartedly, apparam when sky goes chucha, the bad digging will lead to potholes which will lead to plot holes in our life. The hole will develop and they will announce it as metrotrain works soon. Escaping all the holes you’ll definitely be bound to find yourself to the surprise pan missiles from bus and lorry windows. Even Kaaka does kakka on you. Onnyum panna mudiyathu.
If you have somehow crossed all this to reach your destination, then the gods bless you with a splash of mud from the rain, and the rain itself to wash it off. Ivvalavum mudichi antha edathula poi sentha, oruthan kepan, “Dei nee innuma cycle otitu iruka?”.
Tyre oda senthu namma heart layum kaathu pogum.
#CyclingSambarthayam
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Cringe Attack: Senses

I was a northern state for a week and it was a great stay. The capital city of this state was a lovely one albeit its little discomforts. But one thing that reinforced in me was that your senses are sure to be the first point of attack every time you go out. As I returned home I realized that we wage a war of senses with the world we step out of our home. We win sometimes, we lose most times, but that doesn’t matter because every smell, every temperature, every sound, every pressure is an experience. I’ll leave the shade of feeling you feel to you. If this post makes you cringe, my job is done.

Eye-o!

There are lots of things that you see with your eyes, like the orange coat sunset over the clouds, or the trippy half-cut side of a purple cabbage, or the way the coffee powder mixes slowly into milk. These are some soothing sights that you see in your day to day life which have a positive effect or not effect you.
Here comes the Attack.
The first attack I want to talk about is the one where you’re sprayed with Influenza infected droplets of death, Saliva. Sneezing is one of the most ungodly acts of human nature when done without closing mouth. I’ve been in a situation where a light behind a man highlighted his open sneeze and I saw the particulates fly off in every direction. Brrr. I ran before I got a fresh coat of Saliva.
Everyone loves eating, but some people manage to make it the most undesirable act of the century. They chew with the mouths so open that a Crow could come and pick some food off. Also, that sound that accompanies it. “Chowk Chowk Chowk”. Please.
Human body makes a lot of wastes, some of them are disgusting, some of them go unnoticed, I’m going talk about the disgusting one. Oh, not that one, but the one that comes from your eyes and nose. Doesn’t that little white goop in their eyes want to scratch out your own eyes? Or the gummy boogers you see having a fun time swinging in their nose hairs make you cut off your own nose? If you have felt the same way, Hello. Once I saw a man whose boogers slipped and fell into his soup. I wanted to jump out of my skin. I’m not saying everyone will be aware every time, but please for the love of god!
Have you ever sat in a restaurant or a coffee shop and someone bent down right before your face? Yes, getting a butt in your face is not the greatest thing while eating food. But that’s not the worst part, it’s the butt crack that makes you spit out your intestines. If you manage to think that, ‘it’s Butt, nothing but’ then you might be built for something stronger like the spitting.
Oh. It’s not the normal spitting. This is a special kind of spitting that makes you hate physics. The spit that curves. The phenomenal bus-window spit. This guy who has been ‘arachifying’ that pan in his mouth for the past 30 minutes chooses the exact moment right before you get up, before the vehicle halts at your bus stop, and he goes “plicchhhh” towards the windows. You must have seen rainbows? That’s how the spit curves. It curves from his mouth and hits the one behind his seat. That is, you, painting you in Red. As your tears mix with the pan, I’ll let you deal with that scarring image.

Ke’Kadhu’

Ears are a wonderful sense to enjoy the world, the sweet music of the nature swishing and swooshing with winds, or the consistent tapping of rain on your window or the eargasm you feel when you hear the waves rock you to sleep. But there is another side to sounds. Naaais.
Here comes the attack
One might think this is the lesser of sensory attacks, but I have some tricks for this one. You might’ve experienced this, you’d be having lunch and there would be this one guy that will have his lunch and make sounds like a whale. You can literally hear him drinking his water, or munching his murukku.
Or those loud talkers in theatres who seem to make the most irritating noises of all. And there would be another couple that will making noises that mimic rats squeaking. Get a room please.
There are those idiots who tap the table during an important meeting. Man, that makes you so mad. They must be hung with their ID cards.
And you bathroom singers. Pothum da dei
You know, you’re moving in a line, standing in a que for a bank or even Pongal in kovil, then you hear a sound, “darrrrrrr”. Let’s pray to the mighty power above it was a one of those times where a hole was made in a fabric by tearing and not the people tearing a hole in the fabric of time by releasing body air. Ewww. IKR.

Mooku Varmam

This is my favourite/unfavourite part in this blog. My special wishes and condolences to nose for enduring so many things in life. Seriously Nose, You da man.
As the heading says, using nose is an art, it has a million good purposes, like taking in the sweet smell of vadai, or the fragrance of a flower or the olfactory treat of breathing in a new book. But at times certain things are thrust upon you and you can’t hold your breath always.
Here comes the attack
First let’s start with all bodily odours. I think a bus is the place where one can experience all the human based odours. First of all, sweat, that little salt droplet that rolls down from your underarm, ever so slowly that it progresses like the dooms day that’s coming towards us. While you’re engrossed in tracking that sweat bullet on your skin, the person standing behind you is grossed out by the unmissable gappu it creates. His poor nose is bombarded by nasal bomb from you. As he tried to move away from you, someone else releases something else among the bus crowd. This thing as strong as the Bomb Trump dropped over afghan. Beware, this one is the sum product of multiple dishes from the previous day that didn’t ferment properly inside your body. I really wish there was a fart detector in public places. People would run for life.
You go to the conductor to get ticket, but your heart stops for a few minutes as your face goes into different corners of your head. The smell of bad breath demands you! It demands you to be felt! This is such a horrible experience you know. You can’t express the insane amount of discomfort your nasal cavity faces wanting you to rip off the nose but also must continue the conversation until you get what you need. All his pan, unbrushed teeth, the onions he had, makes sure you count your blessings post this experience
Seri, okay you get down from the bus and another war. The mighty koovam. This ever-present river will make sure your olfactory senses are deactivated for a few moments such that you can’t breathe.
But the other thing that trumps this is public bathrooms. If there is a place where you want to train your senses, this is the ultimate dojo. Nose, eyes, and ears will be made sure you grow a new pair.
Nose Knows Everything.
After all this if you survive you’re the best.
Remember. Everyone has problems related to body, don’t take it lightly, make sure you fix it. Also make sure you don’t offend anyone with your words.

Divisions of Mankind

Bullets of sweat rolled down her cheeks through her eyes,
her clothes were all shredded and her skin was darker than usual,
on the other end another young girl tried her best to gather funds,
funds that might help younger souls get education and food,
The engineers and wives signaled money only for signal implorers,
they earned more everytime the lights turned red,
the other one typed away until her eyes were red,
two corners of a society, one up there and one down there,
she was termed ‘underprevileged’ and her as an something unutterable,
When vehicles whizzed past at green light, her employer was at delight,
His eyes were set on the money she’d begged, little did the givers know,
She shared, commented and canvassed, none cared, none understood her plight,
Later they called her, ‘keyboard warrior’ and ridiculed her, none donated though,
Two corners of a society, one up there and one down there,
They both went home to one kid, one that was special for them,
one that didn’t have parents to look up, Two corners of a society, met there.

Why Jan 1?

At this moment I hear people bursting crackers and shouting out on roads and celebrating new year. But why Jan 1?

What has changed?

Has our Appa calling us “thandasoru”, changed?
Has our best friend calling us eruma maadu, changed?
Would your spouse love you more than before?
Would your husband cook more for you?
Would your parents understand your earning for doing something out of pure interest and drive?
Would the effect of your daily cigarettes affect your lungs lesser?
Would your dirty jetti wash itself?
Will your company and boss give you extra salary?
Do you think you can reduce that little belly fat and become fit?
Would you donate a part of your salary to charity post Jan 1?

Why do people choose Jan 1 to celebrate?
Why does this day mark such a special occasion all over the world? Most of us Indians don’t even have the need to follow the Gregorian Calander outside our jobs, we may be use them for uniformity. Most of our parents use their own religious calendars even now. But why have we adopted this one? This wave of new year go around the world even in countries that don’t follow this calendar. Why go to pubs and clubs and dance away till our hips lie and drink till our lips lie? Why spend thousands on crackers and watch so called fireworks. Hell, we even adopted it into our diwali scheme. Why Jan1?

I think I know why.

Hope.

Hope,that little thing that keeps us running 365 days and 24 hours throughout the year. The hope for a better life, The hope of something better than what you had today. The hope of your close ones will become closer to you. The little shimmering ray of light that will keep you alive to face the next day. That special thing, Hope is what makes this Jan 1 special. Believe me there is nothing else special about January 1st. For Indians we have pongal, other wise no emotional pongal. So Keep that Hope living.

Let that hope feed your passion, let that hope help you reach your goals. let that hope make you kiss your man. Let that hope make you hug your kids more. Let that hope make you travel alone. Let that hope make you read more books. Let that hope make your parents believe you. Let that hope make you adopt more pets. Let that hope Give you a better year.

Let that Hope live.

May Coincidence ever be in your Favor.

Happy New year

#Hope

The Chef-d’oeuvre

People usually fall in love, I didn’t, I woke up in love, I did,
Call me a moron, but I didn’t fall for you, fell for another ‘her’,
Fell deep into the sucking void of her glam and beauty, idiocy it was, blind sight,
Never saw that lady shadowing ‘her’, never knew that your shadow was my light,
She was shady, not dark, she was silent, her inner fire beautifully violent, splashing,
her confidence showed her might, her soul was a pretty sight, so was her art,
Her dangling bangles I never noticed before, lost in her tattoo I was,
My thoughts often started with atoms traveling through space-jumping  into blackholes,
But it was the past, thoughts did a full circle always jumping over your cheeky black mole,
Only the width of your heart made me stop in my tracks, butterfly farm it was,
Waking up to you after falling for the wrong person, I fell again, but you caught me,
Threw me to the sky, floating up there, like your spirit, free, radiant and ever warm,
The question of ‘The One’ never popped up, call it intuition, call it a sixth sense,
My sixth sensual she was, she often used to paint me, paint me with herself and love,
I could never make out those colours, it was a dizzy world of comfort, high on emotions,
Skipping her degrees for an alternate career she made me skip beats, swooning,
Her paintings I never understood, I understand now, standing over you,
Standing over your grave, I wake up again, wake up to see you in your canvas,
5 decades later I realized, I never fell for her, she did, I was her masterpiece.
~Brushed

How (not) to be Sharmaji’s Son


Pre-disclaimer– This is my attempt at portraying the difficulties of being a male child in a typical Indian family in a comic tone. There is some cringe worthy stuff inside this blog which you might not want to read, then kindly like the blog and shoo away. If I’ve hurt or if there is a lapse in logic or if I’ve made mistakes, I’d try my best to correct them when pointed out earnestly.

Unless you’re a boy child you wouldn’t know how difficult it is to be one. Ever since you’re born, shit ton of things are expected from you. Right from the moment your head stands on its own and you say, ‘chuchu’, there are a lot things people want you to be and it is not a simple feat achieving them. I have tried my best to compile a comprehensive and humorous blog on how (not) to be an ideal Male child or Be Sharmaji’s son. Also let me tell you the two reasons why I’m writing only about men and not women,

  1. I’m a Male human.
  2. Sadly, I’m a son too.

The difficulty of being a son starts early, you’re expected to be cute, intelligent and still hold the baby charm at the same time. You should know how to spell long words, know rhymes, thirukural, tell poems, write novels, solve calculus, become scientist and go to mars. Dei how da? When I was little I didn’t even know how to wear jetti(underwear) properly, how would I know how to pronounce lorry? The best I could do was Rolly, Sorry Mum and Dad. First patient eh baedhi baby.

Udaney comes the pre-school and primary. By now we should’ve been excelling at sports, studies and arts, but the tables turn when we grow up though. I’ve heard from modern parents that they’re upset that their child is unable unlock the phone by itself. Aiyo paavam

Then Comes one of the most difficult stages of being a boy – The puberty (don’t imagine flashing lights and big banners, that’s strictly for girls). For girls it’s a function for us boys it’s a hard time getting up (boys will know). Dei they celebrate you growing into pretty people and give you all kinds of jewellery, but what we get called, ‘kada maadu’(grown cow) of increasing frequency. Yes, we understand your difficulty in puberty girls, with the period and cramps and all, but there is certain stuff where men find it difficult to cope with too. One of the major frustrations is body hair, it grows everywhere, like all over da. You do not know how many times it gets caught in your clothes and punishes you every time by stripping away chunks of hair. And there are times where hair doesn’t grow where it has to, Poor bald men. May lightning slip on your heads and you never be called vazhukupaarai.

Don’t even get me started about clothes, nothing fits. In a span of 3 years you grow more than 3 sizes, I can see the eye roll from the other gender. Hey you have so many types and styles of clothes to try out! All we have is four clothes- two inners and two outers. Pants which used to be loose barely fits your arm, Zips? They’re a nightmare. Threatening to reduce your shot at making family every time you use that Zip. Maatna Margaya. Our shoulders become broad that neither L or X dresses fit. XL makes us look like a blown out balloon. But there are a few who seem to stay little even after the growth spurt, aama growth-u spurt-u.

Grow up a little more and you’re forced to become an engineer, and I can assure you that men are forced into Engineering more. Engineering goes away in a confused state whether to love or not. Don’t worry mostly Single than. You somehow manage to get a date and go to some restaurant, Anga pona etho Chivalry aam, Men must pay. Pocket money, Saavu Mani.

While you’re here trying to comprehend the stuff that’s going around you there will be a particular boy who will get more marks than you and do more internships than you, that idiot is your best friend from school. Aapu begins there. If academics is in this state, your ego takes a hit when you see a guy younger than you with more certificates. Ippovey kannakattuthey

Appadiye shifting to home, your chance of getting new things and clothes reduces if you have an elder brother or elder male cousins. You are the one that get all the second hands. After evading everything in home and college you come out. There stands a group just to brand you, the society. And I share this with our opposite gender humans, we both get judged.

Poriki if you have beard, pazham if you shave, rowdy if your haircut is snazzy, loosu if your dressing sense is different. Talking about haircuts one single mess-up can make you move to a different state and change your identity. I have seen guys skip school and college after having a bad haircut. We don’t have bad hair days, rather we have bad-hair-months-leading-to-identity-crisis situations. Beards are a lost cause, your friend has a sage beard and buys beard wax and mush oil while your chin has a single hair which you’re forced to be proud of. Ushabbba.

Seri, when you come home amma wants you to fix her grinder. You wonder why, Nee Engineer da mundam, says your brain. But how? Just because you do engineering doesn’t mean you can fix it, amma doesn’t know this. Avlothan. Appa comes over to questions you to boredom and gives career advice and life lessons, free of cost da!.

Then comes the working stage. Suddenly from being super broke you’re blessed with your own salary, wait wait, mom and dad make you responsible by handing you some bills, pfff yeah, ‘some’ bills. At the end of the month after trying your best to be a good son you’re left with spare cash which is enough only to buy two plates of paani poori.

Jumping over all this, you’re not even allowed to choose your favourite color, Men like blue da macha, No. I like purple, cyan and mauve. Maavu ah? Aama, Maavu than.

Added to this is a list where men are frowned upon if they don’t know to ride a bike. Once my relative gave had a culture shock reaction with vaai aaa open until his wife closed it. Dei I know cooking, you knowva?!, I make very good Pongal and vadakari.

All this also okanynga, the most difficult thing is managing people from your own gender, if you don’t smoke you’re a wuss, if you don’t drink you’re a loser. “if you don’t try all these then what’s the use in living life?” echoes a question from the past. Apparam, Who said all men are strong and courageous? Yov I have been in a very few fights all my life and what nambikkai you send me with mom at 10.30 pm ah? Dei road dogs da, they bow bow once and bite twice da, please no.

Sports, yet another head ache. After receiving multiple frown-downs, I found out that all you have to do is say,’oh aama la, what a great match’ to everything related to sports, believe me it works. Also men are not allowed to cry, Boys azhakoodathu man.

The worst one happens to be the judging based on physical presence, your accidental bumps can lead you to police stations, beware. After all this there is a statistics that say men have a shorter life span. I was not ready da moment.

With all this being said, being a man is as difficult as being any other Gender with all due respect, sometimes in lesser and sometimes in greater magnitude. Let men be men.

Post-Disclaimer – The events, characters and relatives depicted in this blog are fictitious (summa luluvaiku). Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or firms is purely coincidental or unfortunate (looking at the bald and short men, sorry)”. Wait what? Doesn’t that negate the whole point of the blog? Either that or some of these things is a lie. This is merely a try from my side. Any kind of comment is welcome.

Them

Light deceives, giving hope and clarity to things that breed darkness,
Creeping into the thy chest, clawing its way leaving scar so bleeding,
Why?, why you might wonder… But answer is so obvious you’d
miss it,
The deeds you did don’t matter a bit, you’re a misfit, sadness – Go kiss it.
The circle is not what you think, not the satellite’s path, or love,
It represents the digit that is neither here nor there, pessimism not, optimism lost,
You’re wrong if you think the circle is around you, for you, it is the zero,
The number that has no value on its own, that is you, nonsense even in a row.
Years they say, aeons they say, does it mean what it means? They know,
The Gods above, They should know. Those heartless human imaginations, they know,
Maybe I didn’t do it right, or my coins weren’t enough to pacify the stone face,
Or was it because my eyes weren’t wet enough? humans and their creations are scary.
The feelings that were bonded, love that binded hands and shoulders, unwrapped,
Does time heal? I guess not… It picks apart people heart by heart, piece by piece, painfully efficient,
Try and kneel, may be they’d budge, you’re in luck if you’re visible,
Now do you understand?, bonds are brittle so that they can be chipped and shattered.
You’d think you can make a ripple in lives, but what is a ripple to a wave?
Insignificant, unseen, but always in a crowd. Let’s call that irony, ‘life’,
The greatest of grief, the bitter reality, the happening that shouldn’t,
If you think love breaks are easy, pray that you’re prepared for what’s coming.