Memoire of my "Near Death Experience" (Or Shd I say Near Life Experience.)

(After the loads of hotlinks I have pestered u with, finally I have decided to write another one of my boring posts.)

Making a small bit of event setup before we go ahead.

Event-- White water rafting at Cheat River, Class 4-5
People -- Freaks.
Date -- Sunday, May 30, 2004.
Time -- To be leaving Baltimore 630 am Indian Standard Time :-)


Indian Standard Time denotes something and we did not let down its repute one bit. Wanting to leave at 630 , ended up leaving arnd 730. The journey was supposed to be a three hr drive without getting lost (Well, which by Murphy's law is an inevitability for us).
But we did make it arnd 1030 to Cheat river, now starts the real fun. We did not exactly know the name of the tour operator we were going with. Also with none of the cell phones catching any sort of ntwk, communicating with the other grp was impossible.

So started our fight to find the right place and I may say, that as usual I screwed up again. We saw a party getting ready to board and I boarded down to make sure if it was the ones we were supposed to go with.Not finding any of our frnds waiting for us outside, We decided that this wasn't the one and we moved ahead.After abt 45min of searching arnd the place, we finally came to know that the aforementioned place was infact the one and we had missed our frnds who were already on the trip.(Hugely disappointed were a couple of ppl, Anadi -- Cursing himself for the screwup where I shd be taking more of the blame for the same, Aarti -- Guess was bored with our jokes :-)) No more trips were scheduled for that afternoon. But the operator trasnferred us to another place in Ohiopyle..(Class 3-4).

Think that turned a blessing in disguise for us. With the two girls alongwith us already prety damn scared of rafting(especially at Class 4-5), I think Class 3-4 was just perfect.

So it starts off -- Usual routine of introductions, safety equipment, instructions ....

Myself made the captain of the team (Many wouldn't contest that this was the worst decision made collectively).

My Team --
Vishal -- First timer scared of water.
Anadi -- Buckles under pressure ;-) (and plainly keeps shouting Check,Check !!!)
Aarti -- Only one with certified rowing experience :-)
Nicolle -- Doesnt wanna get wet while white water rafting. Finally came out to be the remote control captain(Sonia ishtyle ;-), with me in Doc's seat) for the raft.

A Bad Start:- With a captain like me and the crew absolutely confused abt what to do, we werent expecting a great start but it was worse than we cud have imagined. Through the first set of rapids , our raft almost overturned with three of us including myself finding oursleves swimming in the cold rapids. Though the boat flung me out into the water, I somehow managed to hold on to the raft, and goli doing a great job pulling me inside. The two others left out were Vishal and Aarti. With Aarti getting a hold of an instructors Kayak, she was safe. But Vishal was still reeling arnd in the water with no support and his lack of knowledge of swimming (like mine) making it tougher for him to stay afloat(even with our lifejackets on). But eventually Anadi did mange to pull him inside with me pulling Aarti inside(that was a tougher job than it sounds). So everybody safe and sound (well, not exactly sound with Vishal reeling with bruises and both of em psychologically scarred ;-))

Couple of Rapids Ahead , I came to encounter my Near Life Experience. Somehow I managed to fall out of the raft in a pretty fast rapid. Could not hold on to myself and was reeling in the water with my specs falling over and the helmet falling over my head. Unable to see, water going into my lungs, absolutely out of breath.(Thats how u feel when u r drowning ;-)Went that way for a more than a couple of dips and the rapid was really quick. A good Samaritan (a desi coincidentally) somehow managed to come near to me in his raft and tried to pull me in , but while doing so we went trhough another rapid and this time his raft and my back completely banged into a rock. But he held onto me. Then another raft came closeby and pulled me inside their raft. At one point of time I was holding onto both the rafts an heading straight into a rock , but i guess commonsense prevailed inside me :-)

What did I experience -- Fear (Oh yea, was scared to hell for a moment). Not exactly sure if it was death that I was scared of. But then it was only abt survival. And I also have to say I somehow enjoyed that fight for survival.Trying to keep myself above the water was the toughest part :-)

Rest of the ride was relatively uneventful with us completing other rapids relatively successfully. I think the event instilled in us a sense of urgency which led to our success and better coordination in latter stages.

This probably was as close as I would get to a Near-Life Experience as Tyler wud call it.

I am sure other ppl will have a lot to say bt the day. Keep the posts and comments flowing.

Guys believe me this is a freakin riot....brilliant....

"The Travails of Single South Indian men of conservative upbringing" or "Why we don't get any..."

Yet another action packed weekend in Mumbai, full of fun, frolic and introspection. I have learnt many things. For example having money when none of your friends have any is as good as not having any. And after spending
much time in movie theatres, cafes and restaurants I have gathered many insights into the endless monotony that is the love life of south Indian men. What I have unearthed is most disheartening. Disheartening because comprehension of these truths will not change our status anytime soon. However there is also cause for joy. We never stood a chance anyway. What loads the dice against virile, gallant, well educated, good looking, sincere mallus and tams? (Kanadus were once among us, but Bangalore has changed all that.)

Our futures are shot to hell as soon as our parents bestow upon us names that are anything but alluring. I cannot imagine a more foolproof way of making sure the child remains single till classified advertisements or that
maternal uncle in San Francisco thinks otherwise. Name him "Parthasarathy Venkatachalapthy" and his inherent capability to combat celibacy is obliterated before he could even talk. He will grow to be known as Partha. Before he knows,his smart,seductively named northy classmates start calling him Paratha. No woman in their right minds will go anyway near poor Parthasarathy. His investment banking job doesn't help either. His employer loves him though. He has no personal life you see. By this time the Sanjay Singhs and Bobby Khans from his class have small businesses of their own and spend 60% of their lives in discos and pubs. The remaining 40% is spent coochicooing with leather and denim clad muses in their penthouse flats on Nepean Sea Road. Business is safely in
the hands of the Mallu manager. After all with a name like Blossom Babykutty he cant use his 30000 salary anywhere. Blossom gave up on society when in school they automatically enrolled him for Cookery Classes. Along
with all the girls.

Yes my dear reader, nomenclature is the first nail in a coffin of neglect and hormonal pandemonium. In a kinder world they would just name the poor southern male child and throw him off the balcony. "Yes appa we have named him
Goundamani..." THUD. Life would have been less kinder to him anyway.

If all the women the Upadhyays, Kumars, Pintos and, god forbid, the Sens and Roys in the world have met were distributed amongst the Arunkumars, Vadukuts and Chandramogans we would all be merry casanovas with 3 to 4 pretty
things at each arm. But alas it is not to be. Of course the south Indian women have no such issues. They have names which are like sweet poetry to the ravenous northie hormone tanks. Picture this: "Welcome, and this is my family. This is my daughter Poorni (what a sweet name!!) and my son Ponnalagusamy (er.. hello..).." Cyanide would not be fast enough for poor Samy. Nothing Samy does will help him. He can pump iron, drive fast cars and wear
snazzy clothes,but against a braindead dude called Arjun Singhania he has as much chance of getting any as a Benedictine Monk in a Saharan Seminary.

Couple this with the other failures that have plagued our existence. Any attempt at spiking hair with gel fails miserably. In an hour I have a crown of greasy, smelly fibrous mush. My night ends there. However the northy just
has to scream "Wakaw!!!" and you have to peel the women off him to let him breathe.In a disco while we can manage the medium hip shake with neck curls,once the Bhangra starts pumping we are as fluid as cement and gravel in
a mixer.Karan Kapoor or Jatin Thapar in the low cut jeans with chaddi strap showing and see through shirt throws his elbows perfectly, the cynosure of all attention.The women love a man who digs pasta and fondue. But why do they not see the simple pleasures of curd rice and coconut chutney? When poor Senthilnathan opens his tiffin box in the office lunch room his female coworkers just dissappear when they see the tamarind rice and poppadums. The have all rematerialised around Bobby Singh who has ordered in Pizza and Garlic bread. (And they have the gall to talk of foreign origin.)
How can a man like me brought up in roomy lungis and oversized polyester shirts ever walk the walk in painted on jeans (that makes a big impression) and neon yellow rib hugging t shirts? All I can do is don my worn "comfort
fit" jeans and floral shirt. Which is pretty low on the "Look at me lady" scale, just above fig leaf skirt and feather headgear a la caveman, and a mite below Khakhi Shirt over a red t shirt and baggy khakhi pants and white
trainers a la Rajni "Badsha".

Sociologically too the tam or mallu man is severely sidelined. An average tam stud stays in a house with, on average, three grandparents, three sets of uncles and aunts, and over 10 children. Not the ideal atmosphere for
some intimacy and some full throated "WHOSE YOUR DADDY!!!" at the 3 in the morning. The mallu guy of course is almost always in the gulf working alone on some onshore oil rig in the desert. Rheumatic elbows me thinks.

Alas dear friends we are not just meant to set the nights on fire. We are just not built to be "The Ladies Man". The black man has hip hop, the white man has rock, the southie guy only has idlis and tomato rasam or an NRI
account in South Indian Bank Ernakulam Branch. Alas as our destiny was determined in one fell swoop by our nomenclature, so will our future be. A nice arranged little love story. But the agony of course does not end there. On the first night, as the stud sits on his bed finally within touching distance and whispers his sweet desires into her delectable ear, she blushes, turns around and whispers back "But amma has said only on second saturdays..."

Balls

Dear Goliji,
It doesnt suit a person of your age to make a scathing attack on my dearest friend Marvaadi, much younger to you in age and stature ( and the best possible hot-linker Blogger has ever produced :-) ). In saying this I am undermining his beautiful writing abilities as evident in his "Robin and the cricket match" blog. And how can you accuse active Freaks of non-performance when you yourself were hibernating in LaLa Land for all but two blogs ( one blank one ) of Freaks Inc's web existence ? You may argue that our blog functions like a "tabloid" always ready to pounce upon something spicy. We agree it does( sort of a tabloid )and there is no harm in it being that way. Because if there are blogs just for the heck of it ( even this is not wrong), then you will again accuse the blog of being dry and boring like you accused Marvaadi's hot links. There have been posts on topics as bland as playing cricket in my(Anoop's) house at Mount Ridge and "The week's activity" also. Please dont vie for our blood Mr. Goli.We accept our inactivity over the past few days and hope that your reason of writing the previous blog being the good intention of reviving activity, has borne fruit.In my inimitable style of pulling your leg I exhort you to have "two tablets of Mebex with cold almond milk " and chill out.Also once in a while please let your creative juices flow on the blog.I know it is too much to ask :-), but even a modicum of that would do the blog some good.All said and done, I take your comment with a pinch of salt and hereby pledge energetic blogging.

~Anoop

It's a fine sunny day in the forest, and a rabbit
is sitting outside his
burrow, tippy-tapping on his typewriter.

Along comes a fox, out for a walk.
Fox: "What are you working on?"
Rabbit: "My thesis."
Fox: "Hmm... What is it about?"
Rabbit: "Oh, I'm writing about how rabbits eat
foxes."

Fox: "That's ridiculous! Any fool knows that
rabbits don't eat foxes!"
Rabbit: "Come with me and I'll show you!"

They both disappear into the rabbit's burrow.
After few minutes, gnawing
on
a fox bone, the rabbit returns to his typewriter
and resumes typing.

Soon a wolf comes along and stops to watch the
hardworking rabbit.
Wolf: "What's that you are writing?"
Rabbit: "I'm doing a thesis on how rabbits eat
wolves."
Wolf: "you don't expect to get such rubbish
published, do you?"
Rabbit: "No problem. Do you want to see why?"

The rabbit and the wolf go into the burrow and
again the rabbit returns by
himself, after a few minutes, and goes back to
typing.

Finally a bear comes along and asks, "What are you
doing?
Rabbit: "I'm doing a thesis on how rabbits eat
bears."
Bear: "Well that's absurd!

Rabbit: "Come into my home and I'll show you"

As they enter the burrow, the rabbit introduces
the bear to the lion.

Moral:
IT DOESN'T MATTER HOW SILLY YOUR THESIS TOPIC IS.
WHAT MATTERS IS WHO YOU HAVE FOR A SUPERVISOR.
In the context of the working world:

IT DOESN'T MATTER HOW BAD YOUR PERFORMANCE IS;
WHAT MATTERS IS WHETHER YOUR BOSS LIKES YOU

To find the Path, cricket has to stumble and innovate

A very interesting article by another of our cult figures -- Harsha Bhogle.

Comments invited :-)

Came across this very interesting quote on some blog.

Whatever we understand and enjoy in human products instantly becomes ours, wherever they might have their origin... Let me feel with unalloyed gladness that all the great glories of man are mine.

- Gurudev Rabindranath Tagore.

Manmohan breaks 'R' jinx - The Times of India

Times the Tabloid at its best.