THE THING ABOUT BUS DRIVERS

So I must say this and I am saying this with authority “The heads of all major Universities are Mantally- the-sick!”. Why else would they ever come to the conclusion that having the location of their esteemed University 32 km from the main city makes it sound cool and important?” My Dear Vice Chancellor, you are a Pathetic Pig. Yes you are! While you can travel wherever you want in your AC Volkswagen Vento, driven around by your 24*7 balls scratching chauffeur, we the students have to travel for one hour and thirty minutes to reach the God forsaken place. You should worry Mister! I tell you why. If I kill you, cut you into 64 lil pieces and throw you in the forest stretch around the campus, not even a dog could smell it out.

Anyways, I have always had these never ending relationships with Bus Drivers and Bus conductors. While girls dream about a hot looking Mr Perfect calling them up and kicking them off their anorexic feet, I have been haunted by these calls from Bus Conductors and Drivers to such an extent that I had to change my Number.

Our campus shifted and we had no idea how to get ourselves transported to the new alien land. As we stood clueless in the bus stand, a bus with the name ‘V1’ came and a FOM asks the driver if this goes to the place were our campus happens to be and yes we were lucky. I guess he had never been spoken to by a girl and maybe that’s why he turned all red and started smiling like a stupid ass. The next day, he even made an Aunty move from the side seat, just so that we could get seated on the plastic bench near the driver seat and the engine area. As days passed he even got a haircut, got the bulgan a.k.a the French beard, started wearing Fake Rolex silver watch, Bathroom slippers were replaced by crocodile shoes and his new cheap musk perfume made my brain numb. This one time he even stopped the bus 100 mts away from the bus stand when he saw us running towards it. Apparently we were late and thankful to him, but stopping a public KSRTC bus for a bunch of late-lateefs clad in white uniform? You have got to be kidding me!

Songs like ‘Truly Madly Deeply’ are played in the bus in the afternoon return session. He even asked us if we could fill his KINGSTON pendrive with the songs of our choice, so that he could play them. This is a public bus and we occupy a mere 2% of the crowd!

Maybe he is just being good and maybe he is just plain innocent. But for us he is just CRAJEE and WEIRD!

P.S- No! the guy in the image is not our Driver. Dint you notice the missing Bulgan? FOM- Friend Of Mine.

Image Courtesy- arunrajagopal.com

STARE AT ME PLEEEJ

 There is a famous Malayalam proverb which when translated goes something like, “it’s when you loose an eye that you realize its value”. Now why am I suddenly bringing it up here? It’s just that I am stuck in an emotional wreck right now.

Our prawn shaped lungi clad land of Kerala is famous for three things- Eating rice, Drinking TODDY (followed by the famous half mast lungi erratic dance) & Gold mania. But very less is the fourth and the most common feature of this land known and that is STARING.

Staring as defined by our own WIKIPEDIA is- ‘a prolonged gaze or fixed look. In staring, one object or person is the continual focus of visual interest, for an amount of time.’ But in my land you get more. The amount of time given to one person can continue even beyond the point when you show discomfort and ask the person to quit gawking. I am not talking about ‘man stares at bootylicious woman’ kind of stare but the ‘Equality before law’ kind of stare. Men will stare and even women will stare. You don’t have to look good to be stared at, nor skimpily clad. A fully covered Salwar-kameez will give you equal eye exposure.

KSRTC (Monster Bus) is the cheapest way to travel in and around Kerala and it is in here that you get served with the best and unprecedented kind of staring ,especially if you happen to be standing since the men are sitting on the seats reserved for women and you let them sit because they think they are ladylike. The men stare at your face and then the gaze runs down and up and sideways. They have literally scanned you out while you suspect their glasses to have an X-RAY machine fixed in them. The women crowd stares at you with a grim but demeaning look and your mind suddenly starts to calculate the reason behind that look. Is it because I don’t wear gold, or because I am wearing jeans or because my hair is not matching the level of oil required? Relief touches me when I see that I am not the only one being stared at. The staring does not stop even after you get down on your stop. The eyes continue to be stuck on you from the windows. I shudder and walk towards my den (the hostel) when I am welcomed by two eyes fixed on me. The mundu clad uncle on Pulsar showing off his hairy legs stares at me with a ´Hey Babeee’ look, while his better half does her part by giving me the ´blank stare’.

After my semester got over I decided to take a trip to Singapore and its friendly neighbors to sooth my senses. I landed and I noticed that not a single soul was interested in my existence. Not one stare, not even a fraction of second lasting look. I was happy to notice that even the prettiest of females wearing shorts and sleeveless tops were not being looked at. To my bitterest shock, it was me who was staring at them. Never thought that Kerala could have such an effect on me. I have been pampered by so many stares that now not getting one makes me troubled. Kerala does that to you. Gives you the importance you don’t need and it has definitely left a mark on me.

P.S- I Love Kerala and only i and my fellow Keralites have the right to make fun of it and its people!  Wokay???

I AM SO GAY BUT I DONT LIKE BOYS

Welcome to our Gayland! We are happy and gay people. We have the highest suicide rate so only happy people are left. We are sad only in our TV serials. We know only three things- Going to GELF, Drinking our TODDY, buying GOLD and oooh I forgot , we have a fourth one too and  that is acting like GAYS.

We belong to the self sufficient rice eating prawn shaped land. Don’t you get it? Kerala. We belong to the Coconut land. Even if we see you for the first time we will hold your hand and call you JAGGERY (Chakkare!).

Ok who wants to sue me for defamation? Behold my lord behold! I am myself a MALAYALEE or Mallu and who other than me can defame me. I am exempted because of the powers vested upon me by the Coconut Raja! Actually yes I have lost my mind!

The thing is here everyone acts Gay. You will see women holding each other by the waist, standing with their pelvis stuck together and talking. You will see men walking around holding each others hand. But the sad part is that these men are NOT GAY! Their sexual orientation is as straight as a laser beam. It’s just in their blood, showing that extra love. I came to this land three years back and got to know the existence of many relatives. My Namaste and a smile or a slight nodding of the head was always gifted with  taking my hand and talking while their fingers slowly rubbed my palm, or sometimes even holding by the waist. Obviously it was the women folk who did this. But guys are no less!

In the month of June-August you get pouring Holy Mama Rain! It’s a beautiful time and a romantic one too. If you are single, the weather would make you curse all the couples around you. One day I was walking back to my den when it starts drizzling. It’s cold and it’s simply amazing! I started dreaming about walking with my dream guy and other fantasy guys under the umbrella cuddling up or better still going for a long exquisite drive. But tearing through my rain-dream are the two guys holding hands and coochycooing with each other under an umbrella and walking right in front of me. Okie! I get it they have just one umbrella but what’s with the holding hand. Oh wait! Here comes the girl gang. One chick has her hand around the other chicks shoulder and they are literally sticking to each other. I mean why??????? My walking alone is suddenly so much more heavenly!

In my life I have met a lot of homosexuals. I don’t have any stigma towards them and I actually support their choice. Its there life and the choice is theirs to make. But I am straight and I like being treated straight. As simple as that! But I have always had lesbians in my life even before I came to know that there was actually a thing like that. (Thanks to Isha Koppikar and Amrita Rao movie-Girlfriend and the Bajrang Dal activists who made it a sensation by tearing off posters and thus making me curious enough). Right from school I have been haunted. If catching two chicks making out behind the classroom cupboard after class wasn’t enough, I even accidently in my straight mind made a lesbian friend and believe me it was___________ (Uncle Oxford lacks a word for such an emotion)!

So when I finally reached my Coconut land, I took a long breath and consoled myself that now the haunting is over. But here it’s the worst. You don’t even know who’s gay and who’s not. :(

P.S- Law exams going on and so my mind is in a putrefied condition and this post is a direct result of that. No heavy hearts intended. Article (19)(1)(a) of our divine Constitution gave me the right of freedom of speech and expression. So deal with it!

P.S.S- This post does not intend to convey that Kerala if full of fairies and GAYLY STRAIGHT men. There are Helluva Lungi clad macho men too.

Extra Information – Miss Red Handed is taking a trip to Singapore and its famous pals in the month of May. So no one will be haunted by my posts for a month. Hari Om!

TRAUMA ON WHEELS

 

Commuting in Kerala is like an everyday war! Adventurous you may call it. Be it an Auto, the KSRTC bus, the train, everything has a sense of uniqueness in them.

Auto- Every morning there is a frantic run to catch an auto to the University. I will never say that there is a lack of autos in here. I would rather say that our Prawn shaped state is overpopulated by Autos! Some autos pass by without stopping but the driving bloke scans you from top to bottom. Finally an auto comes up with a ‘ONE FOOT IN THE GRAVE’ old man driving it. After a few thoughts regarding his Soda glasses I step in. The ride begins and there is a monologue by him. His son, son’s son, son’s son’s barber, the dye he uses, how he was in the army once, everything is forced into your ears. He even shows his Ration card! He rides his Auto like a dirt bike. Unpredictable twists and turns and epic missing of the potholes and he still continues to talk like everything is normal. The food inside my stomach is churning and making some new product, my heart is being thrown into my mouth. After a series of near death experiences, I finally reach the University. I take the thirty rupees out of my bag and give it to him. 30 Rs for 3 km sounds reasonable enough. The OH-YOU-ARE-LIKE-MY-DAUGHTER Autowala suddenly transforms into Hitler! Curses are exchanged irrespective of the age gap. He showers Malayalam curses which I do not understand and I shove Hindi+English+Malayalam curses which bounces off his head. Finally when it’s evident that no consensus will take place, I use my brain and take up the last resort i.e. keeping the money on the seat, zipping my mouth and walking away till his shouts become inaudible.

Bus- 7 hrs of University torture has been struggled through and now its time to get back to my place. Sleep is needed! Morning Auto incident sends jitters through my body. I decide to take the Bus. So what if it takes a bit more time. Atleast there will be a peace of mine and a fixed amount to pay. I carry the heavy laptop (TOSHIBA should seriously reconsider) and finally reach the closest bus stop. Our Kerala is also swarmed by the RED MONSTAS who have this habit of stopping atleast 40m from the spot you thought it will stop. They like fooling around you see! You manage to keep one foot inside the bus when it gives a loud screech and hurries forward like a diarrhea affected child. You finally get a place to stand and the laptop is digging a hole on your shoulders and you have lost your mind. You find some change and get the ticket. The bus driver thinks he is the reincarnation of Michael Schumacher. The MONSTER takes a sudden turn and your nose directly pokes into the armpits of a I-HATE-WATER lady. Some men behind you grasp the opportunity well and try to make the best use of their hands. You give an imaginary kick to your head for coming with the idea of using the bus. Finally a lady sitting in the adjacent seat gets up and I dive in to take the place. A hefty woman with an Oil factory on her head blocks the diving and places her posterior on the space I was eying on. The stop comes and I am almost thrown out of the bus. In the end you just thank God for letting you survive it and letting you out in one piece!

Train- The weekend has come and I feel extra love for my grandparents who stay about 3 hrs from my place. The bag is packed and with a huge smile I make it to the railway station. The mood is fine because this time the Autowala who dropped me was a sane one. A sleeper ticket is bought since it’s just a 3 hr journey. I get in the train and Alas!! I cannot spot even a single seat vacant. The entire train is raided by me and finally I have found a place near a HALF-MY-SIZE dude. He seems pretty decent and so do the others in the compartment. The cell-phone becomes my savior. Headphones are in place and the music is on. The journey starts and everything is fine. Suddenly out of nowhere the dude pokes me on my shoulder and starts interviewing me. Which college? Where are you going? Why did you go to the place you are returning from? I answer these non toxic questions and then pretend to be busy. Finally the question comes “CEN AIEE HEV YOOR NUMBURR?”. I stare him down and make the most disgusting face I can ever make. Hopefully he got the answer. Wow! I successfully tackled a looser down. I will tell my friends about this and have a good laugh. The station comes and I get out like a warrior in shining armour! Proud of GOD KNOWS WHAT! I am thirsty and should buy something to drink. Oh!! There I spot a juice stall. The juice is bought and the bag is opened and ……and……….and………WHAT THE FUCK!! Where is my wallet? I had kept it under the safety of two clothes and its missing! Hysterical search has been made and it cannot be found. I lost my wallet and couldn’t even have the Juice.

Decision has been made to buy a two wheeler! Crocodile tears leave a huge effect on your DAD.

GOLD'S OWN COUNTRY

Just switch on your Television and change the channel to some Malayalam Channel like Surya, Asianet, Kairali, Amrita etc. I can bet you on one thing. During the breaks between any soaps, or movies or reality shows you will see atleast one gold related advertisement. If you are lucky enough then may be even three. That is the status of Kerala. Every other week you can see an advertisement in the local newspaper or the TV channel, inviting the locals to join for the inauguration of another branch of a gold chain, with top Mollywood actors and actresses cutting the ribbon.

Its not just Rice or Liquor the Keralites are greedy for but Gold. You can see even the elite groups among the men stopping their SUV’s to run and fetch a bottle of their favourite brand of liquor from a BEVCO outlet. The women flock almost cause a stampede in the Jewellery store.

I am a Malayali girl but born and bought up in the North. My father too is like me. But like I said GOLD greed is in our DNA. He too wants to marry his daughter off with a minimum of 100 sovereigns of Gold (not kidding). My family says it’s not dowry, but something which I take to the family as my share and to be used for mine and my husband’s (idiot’s) future. It all starts as soon as a baby is born. Kiddie gold bangles, rings, waistlets, anklets, earrings etc keep coming irrespective of the gender of the baby. I was even fed a bit of gold paste during the ceremony of my first solid good ingestion. So you see, it’s in my blood too.

Some months back we specially visited Kochi with the intention of buying Gold, for my wedding which will be five to six years down the line.

 Amma- “Antiques never go out of fashion Mole! Oh god!! I did not eat my breakfast, I am so hungry. That reminds me we should buy some biscuits too.”

Poor Me- “Yeh I know this place where you get good Oreos or Butter cookies.”

Amma- “I was talking about gold biscuits mole!”

So me and my parents entered Bhima showroom at Mahatma Gandhi Road, Kochi. The entire street is lined with jewellery stores (poor Mahatma Gandhi had nothing to do with this). I enter the Huge two floored store with different sections and believe me ‘baffled’ would be an understatement. I saw equality for the first time of my life! People from all sections of the society are running around with big stacks of Gandhi Paper in their hands (Now it hit me why that road is called Mahatma Gandhi Road).

I see this man, probably a fisherman in an old worn out shirt and lungi with a thick bundle of notes in his hand. He had just bought a necklace worth 1,50,000 Rupees. Every section of the society, any cast, any district, any status, rich or poor, fisherman or businessman, all fighting to buy gold and that too the best.

Artificial Jewellery is frowned upon here. Diamonds are secondary to gold for an average Malayali family. If you are a girl and your neck and ears are bare and devoid of even a tiny gold, you are attested as poor. I come from the land where people do not mind spending the rest of their life under debt by taking loan after loan just for stacking up gold. I come from a land where show-off is done in terms of displaying of Gold. I come from the land where women stand in bus stops wearing thick gold chains and bangles (thanks to the immense chain snatching, it has reduced). I come from the land were woman are gold mines. I come from the land which buys and sells quarter of the 800 tonne Gold sold all over India. I come from the land where ALL THAT GLITTERS IS GOLD.

Photo courtesy-Photobucket