Ways of the Divine

Almost daily I pass through a temple, the one in BMP's premises, but never go in. I keep thinking I must go someday, but everyday I'm late and keep postponing. Finally, I had to go in today.

While getting in the bus today, I hurt my hand and it was bleeding. I wanted to wash it and didn't have any water. So held it tight with a tissue to stop the bleeding. I got down at corporation and as usual, I went into BMP premises. I asked the watchman there about water. He said there is a tap inside the temple. Well, had to go in. Its a beautiful temple. It felt really nice to be in the temple.

Guess the Divine wanted me to go to the temple. Ways of the Divine are truly strange!!!

Vehicles - cars, lorries, buses - all usually have something written at the back. Its usually God's name or the name of the owners' loved ones. But yesterday saw a couple of interesting messages.

One was behind a car. It said, "I'm only 29 but with taxes I'll be 31". I liked it...is kinda sweet and still keeps you in the late 20s and not in the early 30s.

Second was a case of horrible spellings. It was behind a truck. It said, "Falloow the trafic rulls". Thats "Follow the traffic rules". Guess the painter has spelt it the way we speak.

Shall keep updating this post when I see more interesting 'writings'.

Want to share two incidents - both related to BMTC bus drivers and conductors.
First one was yesterday evening, when I was returning home from work. It wasn't such a overcrowded bus but people were standing on the footboard and the driver couldn't close the door. The driver devised a clever plan to get all people inside and close the door. He stopped the bus and told all to get in. Few obliged. Instead of picking a fight, the driver started the bus and drove so slowly that you could get down and walk and still overtake the bus. This did the trick and slowly people squeezed in. Simple and effective idea. But the end was an anti-climax. The driver over did it and continued his tantrum even after he had closed the door. This irrked the people. What happened I don't know...my stop came and I got off.
The second one was today morning - this is just some statements that the conductor said. They were pretty funny. Or rather they sound funny in kannada. A school kid, carrying her school bag on her back got in. The counductor asked her to put the bag down. Then he went on to say - "Put the heavy bag down, else all the breakfast you have eatten will be used in carrying the bag. Then in school you will not be able to learn anything that your teacher teaches"

Hmm...haven't been doing anything in office these days. Surajit(my teammate) is working hard on the histogram and other stuff. I thought I'll do the process identification - pretty boring work. And to top it all I'm leaving for Karwar tomorrow. And the icing is Venkat(my PM) isn't around. Well...guess work will get done only next week.

The 7 o'clock Deadline

“My dad will kill me”, the girl standing in front of me said. I ignored her and thought she was speaking to herself. She was a good looking girl in her late teens. She was wearing a pink chudidhar. Nice chudidhar, I thought. A minute passed, and she went on “Oh shucks, oh shucks”. After about a minute, she glanced towards me and said it again, a bit more loudly “Its 7.15 and my dad will surely kill me”. It was hard to ignore her this time. I realized she wasn't talking to herself, but to me. But I was in no mood to start a conversation with a stranger in a jam-packed BMTC bus. I looked at her and gave a puzzled look. It was like a green signal to her.

“I'm late today. I should be home before 7.00pm..” I smiled. “ My dad is very strict. 7o'clock is my deadline. I am late.” she continued. I thought about my college days, and the deadlines I had. If my father knew I was going out (this would be for combined studies), then deadline was 7o'clock. If father didn't know (this would be for going out with friends, going for movies etc), deadline was 4.30pm. (My father came back from office at 5o'clock and I had to be home before that). She continued talking about her strict father and I took a walk down my memory lane. How I would come back at 4.55 and mom would yell asking me to come early. “I'll die of high BP” was her favorite dialogue. And how we had our signs. My red towel hung in the balcony meant that father was home already and I better cook-up a good story. I smiled to myself. The driver hit the brakes and I came out of my memory lane. The girl next to me was saying something about her tuition teacher taking extra classes. There were no brakes in her speech.

“Why don't you call up and tell him you are delayed. He'll stop worrying”. I interrupted her. “I lost my mobile yesterday. He is upset about that too.” she replied in a sad tone. “You can call from mine” I said and started digging my bag for the mobile. “Its OK, best not to remind him about mobiles. I'll go and face the music.” she said.

She was silent for sometime and I was thinking of the stories I cooked up for being late – bike tyre puncture, extra classes in college, studying at the library, friend sprained her leg so, had to drop her home, etc. The bus stopped. “My stop” she said. “Thanks for listening. It was nice talking to you.” I smiled and wished her good luck. With so much of westernization coming into the urban Indian society, I thought the 7o'clock deadlines were a thing of the past. This girl proved me wrong. The 7o'clock deadline still stands.