Escape fom my bathroom - A Tale of Bravery and Stupidity.

When the universe is conspiring against you, things just don’t go right. You are off your game and the proverbial ducks just do not fall into line. This seems to be the case with me lately.

One evening I came home late, changed and went to wash up. Splashed some water on my face and was looking forward to a nice quiet meal and some telly. I wiped my face with a towel turned to open the door and turned the handle. Nothing happened.

I turned the handle again with disdain, mildly irritated that the damn thing was not opening. I hadn’t even locked it. No result. Now I was really pissed, I put some pressure on it and it snapped and opened. I went out, but I was not convinced. Why did the door not open the first time? I tried the handle again, this time from the out side, it was fine. So I went inside and closed the door and tried again. It didn’t open the first time. No problem use some force, it had worked the last time.

I tried again, this time more strength on the handle, SNAP! The handle snapped and went right around. Shit, I thought! This can’t be happening. I tried again, this time with even more strength from my big muscles, CRACK! This time the handle snapped and went right round. I HAD JUST LOCKED MYSELF INTO THE BATHROOM!

I got really REALLY REALLY MAD, with myself! How could I let this happen? SOCKUU ! So I thought I’ll try the deft touch, after all the spring in the door was broken and a little finesse might reattach the spring just enough o get the door open. So this time I started winding the door slowly till the handle caught on something and then I whipped it round! No result, it went right round and I crunched my fingers in the door frame! OUUCH!!

As my anger and frustration rose after repeated attempts to open the door, I realized the true nature of my predicament. I had just managed to lock my self into my bathroom, lock myself into my house with the key still in the keyhole, in the corner of an old apartment building with high ceilings and thick solid wooden doors and no dinner, no cell phone or slippers and dressed only in my shorts. If I screamed my lungs out, no one could hear me. If my neighbors couldn’t hear my home theater system on full volume, they were hardly going to hear my low decibel lungs. I had well and truly got myself into a soup I couldn’t get out off.

I took a minute to assess my increasingly dire situation. It was already 11.00pm and the time to ask for help was running out. I surveyed my surroundings. What would James Bond do? What would Jason Bourne do? For the first time, I had to really look at my bathroom, evaluate possible escape routes, any equipment I could use to break free and what I could do with the stuff. Not many options at the time, I tell you.

The contents of my bathroom included my toiletries, soap, shampoo, toilet cleaner, scissors, and two nails in the wall, a toilet brush and comb. Not much of a choice. The ceiling was a false ceiling and reached easily if I stood on the WC. I climbed up and moved one of the false ceiling tiles. A peek into the black beyond of the room above my false ceiling wasn’t very encouraging. Even If I did manage to get up there, doubtful because the ceiling would collapse under my weight, the passage between the false ceiling and actual ceiling was occupied by the Central AC vent. The vent itself was too small for me to fit into and the passage in between too tight. There was only one way out of this prison and it was through the door. I had to either break it or die there.

At first I utilized my body building muscles to try and crash my way through the door, but after a few attempts and a sore shoulder, I gave up. It wasn’t going to budge. I needed a new plan. It was now past midnight, I think but couldn’t be sure because I had no watch and with all the pulling and pushing I couldn’t be sure how much time had passed. One thing was for sure, I had to come up with a new plan.

I took the scissors and started working away at the lock, if I could only get the latch to budge or the spring to coil and get stuck in the handle, I could pry the door open. But I was working on touch only; the brass door handle was screwed to the door with two screws. I used the scissors to unscrew the screws. This took about 15 minutes because the scissor is one I use to cut my nose hair (small) and the screws were about ½ cm in diameter. Then I had to physically pry the brass off the wood. Apparently, they had been married a long time! But the handle was connected to the handle from the other side and wouldn’t come off so I broke the brass plating around the handle. Now I attempted to pry the spring inside the handle with my fingers but only ended up getting a large red gash on the back of my forearm from the edge of the broken plate. This obviously wasn’t working.

I took a step back and sat down on the edge of the bathtub. I was getting exhausted and sleepy. I had lost track of the time but, I assume it was close to 1AM. THINK TARUN! THINK! I looked at the door again. How can I pry the damn thing off its hinges? If I could get some kind of grip on the door I could physically break the lock. Then I saw the hinges, I had seen in a movie once, a person had escaped by removing the door from its hinges. I examined the hinges closely. It could be done. They were largish brass hinges, black with age and stuck from years of not being disjointed. It would take a herculean task to unhinge this door, I already had a sore shoulder and gnashed forearm to prove that. But, I went to work anyway, fighting sleep and exhaustion. I used the scissor to chip away at the edges of the hinges, scratching the dirt from the rust to allow me a clear view of the hinge pin. After about 5 mins I had got the first hinge clean and started prying at the pin with my bare hands. It didn’t budge. I needed to get between the hinge pin and the rim of the hinges. I looked around, 2 nails in the wall – I use it to hang my towels. I got to work prying them loose from the wall. Slowly but surely, after twisting and pulling I got loose. At one point I had both my feet against the wall trying to pull it out with my fingers, if I had slipped , I could have cracked my skull and for what ? Freedom?

I got the nail loose and by using the 2” nail as a pulley again the door frame and soaping the hinges with shampoo to lubricate the hinge pin, I slowly but surely started loosening the hinge pin. Success! The first hinge finally came off! But I needed to get at least 2 hinges out for the door to become unstable. So I started banging the edge of the 2nd Hinge. And to my luck it started popping out. But, I had another problem developing that I had not anticipated. Because the 1st Hinge was out and the 2nd loose, the weight of the door shifted to the other end making it tougher for me to get the hinge out. My fingers had turned red and were starting to swell from the pulling and pushing , but I somehow wedged them between the door frame and door and pulled out the 2nd hinge with my other had . But as soon as I let my fingers loose the door collapsed on it side and got jammed further! I was panting by now , my eyes were drooping , I had an urge to take a break and try a little later , but I knew if I rested , I would fall asleep and if I fell asleep , it would be morning and would lose the momentum I had gained against the beast (my door) . So I tried to pry the third hinge loose but the angle of the door which had a mini collapse had put the hinge out of line making it all the more difficult to pull it out. That and the fact that it was in the corner of the bathroom making it tough to get a good grip without further bruising my fingers. I now truly understood the meaning of the phrase, MY LIFE HINGED ON IT!

I had to come up with a better plan. I looked around and saw the exhaust fan. Could I get it loose and slip out of the window. No. Because the exhaust was the only thing on the wall and I would have to jump four floors down even if I did get thru the exhaust. But there a was small window below the exhaust, which I never opened, used or cared about because, what’s the point? I opened the window, it opened onto me vertically and only 50%. So to look out I had to climb into the bathtub and look sideways sticking my neck between the sill and the window. No chance of getting out this way either and there were wrought iron bars on the other side. Then I started looking out the window, breathing some fresh air. A movement in the apartment building opposite caught my eye. A light came on and somebody passed by the small window. I thought of screaming.
HELP! HELP! I’M STUCK IN MY BATHROOM!
Then I thought, yeah right! I am going to be believed. A guy stuck in his bathroom at 2 am shouting help! Help! What a lunatic!

So I just kept staring at the small window across, and sure enough, I could make out a person changing. He was in the process of taking off his undies and putting on his jammies. I kept staring, willing him to look at me.

I don’t know if it was luck, or a sense of people getting conscious. You know, how when someone is staring at you, you get a strange feeling and you look back. He looked at the window, but because my window was so small and the light was behind me, he couldn’t be sure there was anyone there. So I said, HELLO!

He was jolted and he fumbled with his jammies, they got stuck in his knees and he almost fell over! But he hurriedly got them on!

HELLO! I said again. How are you?
He came closer to the window and as his eyes adjusted to the light he saw my face.
I need you help, I said .I’m stuck in the washroom!
He cocked his ear, I thought he couldn’t hear, so I shouted, I NEED YOUR HELP .I’M STUCK IN THE WASHROOM!

Wait, he said and disappeared. For a minute I thought he had gone to call the police! How embarrassing would that be! Flashing sirens, cops at my door, 2 AM!!!!Front page of GULF NEWS. Headline reads,
MAN, 31 STUCK IN BATHROOM. ONLY UNDIES ON! POLICE SUSPECT HANKY PANKY WITH NEIGHBOUR !

The friendly jammy man returned with a friend and I repeated the whole story to him. I got him to call Dbest, who had a house key, to come and rescue me, but he was in Abu Dhabi. I was actually not sure Dbest would believe why some strange guy was calling him at 2AM to say that your friend is stuck in the washroom! Would you?

He later told me he heard my voice in the background, lucky because it was 2 AM and my voice carried across the building and phone. Relief coursed thru me, but it was not over. It would take him at least 3 hours to get here from Abu Dhabi and maybe another half hour to get into the house, because I had left my key in the lock from the inside which means he would have to break the lock! So I waited for some time, getting ready for a long wait.

But, I decided to be proactive. I couldn’t let the 3rd Hinge defeat me! I went back to work. This time I pulled out the other nail and wedged it between the door and frame bringing the hinge in line. Then I used the 2nd Hinge and the wooden handle of the plunger to slowly but surely, knock after knock after knock, get the 3rd hinge pin out of the hinge. Success I thought. I did it, I’m free!

But it was sadly not the case. I couldn’t get a grip on the door to pull it out. I needed someone to push it from the other side. I tried getting my now bruised and bloody fingers under the door, over the door, around the door but to no avail! I gave up and lay down in the bathtub and went to sleep. I awoke to a drill and banging on the other side. Three quarter of an hour later, I was free. Dbest had called Neelima who had come to the building and convinced the watch man that I was stuck. No mean feat, strange woman insisting a guy was stuck in his bathroom at 2.30AM and needed to be rescued?

I learned a few things about myself from this. I am calm under pressure, I am not claustrophobic and I AM AN IDIOT to lock myself into my own bathroom! What would you do in this situation?

But , I have only one question , WHY ME ??

Double Barrel Roll and the Good Samaritan

As is usually the case for most of my adventures in self realization, this one also happened when I was driving, on my way home from work in the evening. I had to stop off at a friends place close to office to help them set up their computer. These rowing friends, Australians live in one of the taller buildings in Dubai overlooking the Dubai Marina.

To get there I have to take the exit before the 5th Interchange on Sheikh Zayed Road. Problem is , this place is being turned into flyover crossing extraordinaire, there are so many exists and so many loops and roundabouts that it takes at least 2 circles before you actually get to where you intended to go. Adding to the confusion is the red and white construction cones that signal temporary roads and diversions till all parts of the crossover/interchange are completed.

But, since I’m such a brilliant driver and navigator, I was headed in the right direction. I was slowing down to take the exit on the right with one car in front of me, also a Nissan like mine but he was headed straight. But in a sudden shocking turn of events, the guy in front decided he wants to take the same exit! He’s going too fast (approx 100kmph) to be able to slow down and take the exit, so he swerves right in front of me. I slam the brakes and my car slid a good 6-8 feet on the dried construction cement still on the road. Safe!

But what I witnessed in front of me was only something I have seen on TV, in the World’s Most Amazing Videos .The guy in front realizes, he’s too fast to take the exit so he slams the brakes, but it’s too late! The car’s momentum takes him into a skid on the cement! The cars back end goes left since he was trying to go right, so he turns the steering the other way, without letting go of the brakes. But he is going just too fast! The car crashes through the red and white cones of the divider, so he turns the steering the other way again and just about manages to straighten the car! Unfortunately for him, he’s still skidding straight into a pile of sand about a foot high kept between the cones. So he turns the wheel again and the car moves left and the right front tyre climbs the pile of sand, but he’s still traveling too fast …. The right side of the car lifts off the ground and the natural curve of the road pushes it on its roof, so now it’s completely flipped over! But, the car has now gained too much momentum to stop, it slides on the roof for about a foot then spins around and skids with the downward angle of the road does a half flip and straight into a ditch and gets wedged there with the driver’s side in the ditch and the right side 2 tyres in the air!!!!The car actually ended up facing the other way towards oncoming traffic and on two wheels with the driver’s side in the ditch!!! Fortunately, it was on the side of the road and there was no traffic! The whole event took less time than it has just taken you to read this. It was over in a flash but seemed like an eternity. All I could remember were flips, and cartwheels and glass. It was like one of the NASCAR crashes, where the cars keep flipping and flopping with pieces flying everywhere.Then, when it comes to a stop, the driver climbs out of the wreckage like he just got up from an afternoon snooze.

I was horrified! The hair on the back of my neck stood straight up and I got Goosebumps. I was the only other car on the scene, and I thought the guy was dead on the first flip. There were horrible crunching and shattering sounds. I had an urge to keep driving but better sense prevailed and I stopped a safe distance away on the side of the road, put the hazard lights on and jumped out of my car. I ran towards the wreckage.

I was drawing on all the composure I had, calculating what the next steps were.
…keep the victims head still,
…talk to him to keep him coherent
………if he was indeed alive!
Check his pulse …
Call the cops…
Will I need to give him CPR?? Yuck!

Imagine my surprise , when I reached the car , to see a slightly balding , young Indian bloke poke his head out of the passenger side of the wreckage !(driver’s side was in the ditch).The guy had survived ! NOT A SCRATCH ON HIM! He looked a bit dazed but that’s about it!
THANK GOD, I thought immediately, no mouth to mouth!

I helped him out and he asked me if I had seen what happened.
I said, forget that, how do you feel?
Fine.
Shall I call the ambulance?
OK.
I dialed emergency and lo and behold, the ambulance arrived within 5 minutes! This is the first time I’ve seen them get anywhere so fast! The cops arrived a few seconds later.

In the 5 minutes of the wait, Salim (I still don’t know his last name) and I inspected the wreckage. There was a child's scooter on the road, lots of bunnies and teddy bears smiling/gaping at us through the shattered glass of the back window. Salim was 28 yrs old, married with a 3 yr old kid, Malayalam bloke working in Abu Dhabi. He was doing his MBA at some Business School at the Knowledge Village in Dubai and had class 3 times a week. Today he was late for class!
I told him he was lucky not to be the LATE MR SALIM!!!

He was not sure of the exit because the construction people kept changing the cones around, so every time he came here he had to find his way all over again! SOMEONE, PLEASE TELL ME HOW I GET STUCK WITH THESE GUYS??WHY ME? WHY IS MY CHARITY BEING TESTED SO OFTEN LATELY??

The ambulance guys shepherded Salim into the back of the ambulance for testing while I was left to explain to the cops , how the car ended up in the ditch facing into the traffic with the drivers side in the ditch! I tried to explain with hand signals, using my hand as the car and gesticulating but my hand cannot do flips and bend backwards onto itself!!After much tom foolery with my hands, collective shrugging of shoulders and break dancing on the side of the street, I just had to tell them, the guy was going too fast !

I asked the cops if they needed me for anything more, checked on Salim, gave him my card in case I was required as a witness again and went on my way. The whole episode took about 25 minutes. Salim called me later in the evening to thank me. I was suitably gracious. He’s fine and with his family, shaken but not stirred!

Is it just me, or is everybody’s life so exciting?

Thank God for small mercies !

A few days ago , I was leaving office and pulled out of the side gate of the Jebel Ali Free Zone . Standing by the road , was a man shaking his finger at me in the universal symbol of the hitchhiker , asking for a lift. Now generally , I don't stop to give people lifts , for a couple of reasons . First,They could be psycho slashers or just common thieves. It has been known to happen . You offer them a lift , they stick a knife in your stomach and ask for you money.
Second, I am not a charitable guy. On a scale of 1-10 , where 1 is charitable and 10 is not charitable , I would rate myself as an 8 !

So I drove past him , but he looked so sad, and he was a small guy , well dressed. So I stopped and he came running to the passenger side of the car. I rolled down the window and he says he needs a lift till Deira. Ok, get in .

Now , usually if you give someone a lift , the chances are you will never see them again.So, I prefer to keep quiet , mind my own business and dislike pesky questions from hitchhikers.Why bother? But , this guy was consumed by his worries, he looked very troubled and kept squirming about in his seat. He had already established that he wanted to be dropped next to Maktoum Bridge. My curiosity got the better of me and I ventured a question.

"Where do you work ? ", "Jindal Steel", came the reply.
Does Jindal Steel have an office in the Free Zone ?, Yes, he replied .They have a small re-export and trading office.
So , you are in sales ? ,"No, office administration."
"So , the company has not arranged for your transport from home to work ? Did you miss the bus ? " At first he said yes, then he said no. But he didn't look very keen to talk about it.

So, I changed the subject . "Where are you going in Deira ?"I asked. "I'm going to the church ,but you can drop me next to Maktoum Bridge and I'll walk from there ",he replied.

That was the 1st coincidence. It so happens that I always take the route home past the church. It's the long way around but i avoid the brunt of the rush hour traffic.
"It's you lucky day", I quipped. "I'm going past the church , I'll drop right there !"

This seemed to release his tension a bit . "I need to get there by 7.00 pm", he pleaded.
It was 6.40 pm , there was no way I was going to get there by 7 !
"I don't think thats possible ", I told him , matter-of-factly.""Yes, I know "he replied wistfully.

The fact that this guy works in Jebel Ali and was asking for a lift had piqued my curiosity. I just had to know. So i prodded again.

"So, how come , you were asking for a lift ? Your bus left you ?". Ha , ha .
"Yes, it did" , he replied. An then it all came out in a rush and he got pretty emotional telling me how he came to be on the side of road.

Cherian(names changed ) lived in Bur Dubai .He shared a room with 4 others. He had been in Dubai for 10 years. He was from Kerala , a Syrian Christian and had been with Jindal steel for 4 years. Every day after work he went to the church. Not just to pray , but to hang out with others like him who had nowhere to go. He had a wife and 2 daughters , 14 and 9 in Kochi in Kerala. He was strict catholic and had to go to church everyday.

He took a particular bus service from Bur Dubai to Jebel Ali every morning and in the evening took a different bus from the same company to go to the Church in Deira. That particular day, the bus going back to Deira was full. Cherian was already sitting in the bus because he was early as usual because he wanted to be at the Church by 7pm. But, that bus was filled to the brim . They don't allow standing passengers in Dubai, on the highway. So, the bus conductor asked Cherian to get off the bus to make way for someone else who was a regular commuter to Deira. Cherian refused, he had taken this bus everyday for the last 4 yrs ! Everyone on this bus knew him !

The other passenger , made an issue of the fact that he travels this route everyday , and that he(irate passenger) has paid for it. The driver could not argue with the more aggressive passenger and resigned to asking Cherian to vacate his seat and effectively, get off the bus. Now , the regular bus that would have taken Cherian to Bur Dubai had already left ! How was he supposed to get to the church now ? So, he turned to his fellow passengers and asked if someone would give him their seat , or speak to for him to the driver , since his Hindi was not good ( also he was extremely mild mannered). NOT A SINGLE PERSON IN THE BUS MOVED.

Not one person , spoke up or supported him, he had been traveling with them for 4 years !He didn't tell me this , but he must have been hurt and extremely humiliated. He was almost on the verge of tears telling me the story .

I gave him some time to recover by going into a discourse about cricket , traffic and other unrelated crap.Then asked him how long he had been asking for a lift . You were the third person I asked .

"So", I said, "what did you do ?".
"I prayed to God ", he said .
"Ha, Ha , ha , how can God help you in a situation like this ? "

He looked at me with a twinkle in his eye, smiled cheekily, and said , "He sent you."

That just blew me away !! Suddenly all the coincidences clicked .
How in all the people coming out of the gate , I being the 3rd person stopped ?
How come I stopped , when I don't usually stop ?
How come , he wanted to go to the church and I pass the church everyday ?
Just too many coincidences !

I turned to him and said , "Cherian, I think , we just became part of a MIRACLE,GOD answered your prayers!"He smiled and his smile only broadened as he connected the same dots to realize what had just happened .

Thank God for small miracles.

Merry sheery ma cherie ........Ta-qui-laaaah !

So , it's the time to be merry , if you have something to be merry about that is . Another year passes by with no significant going ons. Life as usual , I'm drifting , upstream but drifting.

This is the worst time , decisions , decisions. What to do for New year , what to do for Christmas ? What to buy , what to drink , what to eat, what to wear? It's just a couple of days , like any other days in the year.

You have to admire Jesus though , how did he plan his birth at the end of the year ? That's just brilliant. He thought , "Hey, I gave them the calendar ,now just to make sure they celebrate my birthday longer than anyone else , I'll be born close towards the end of it, that way they can party for a week ! "
Now think about this, is he the smartest dude in the world or was he born in a barn ????

I always have a problem at this time of the year. Everyone around you seems to want to party, go out ,spend money,but i want to relax , kick back , take a break . But you invariably get sucked into some scheme or the other. Everyone you know suddenly has already made plans for Christmas parties and New Year's eve parties. They won't tell you where they are going just that they have something planned . The usual excuse is , "I'm going out with some friends ." Now you have to wonder, I AM YOUR FRIEND. 364 days of the year you want to hang out with me , then suddenly on New Year's eve, you are ,"GOING OUT WITH SOME FRIENDS ??"

I have discovered , people say that because they are too embarrassed to admit that they don't have anywhere to go ! They won't admit it even when you meet them the next day ! I must admit , I have been guilty if this ! Ultimately , at 8pm on 31st December you are at home watching TV and you are going mad thinking everybody else must be out having fun and I'm sitting here watching - Oprah SPECIAL EDITION !!! So you call that one person who you cannot stand but has invited you to a party. Like the -Janice- character from friends! Yeah, on any other day you avoid them but come 31st , they are your only option.And you end up at some place where you don't know anyone , where the booze is too expensive , you are either overdressed or under dressed and they want you to play some stupid party games that involves embarrassing yourself ! You have the worst time of the year,you can't find a taxi to take you home and you are broke ! Who needs this kind of aggravation !

I discovered about a few years ago , if you can't spend it with close friends , you are better off alone .But this year has been okay . Two Christmas parties with the rowing people. One Black tie sit down dinner and dance , Rowing Gala , on the 15th and another house party on the 22nd . I was at my dancing best ,with all the swishing and the twirling . Felt like the Tjuan-13 again.No plans for the New year , so that is how it will be , just me and Anu Kapoor on Zee TV !

The other thing is this gift giving concept . Why , why , who invented this damn gift thing ? Now you have to shop , spend more money , buy something people don't want , then give them the receipt so they can exchange it for something they really want ! You could give cash , but thats too risky. Because you don't want to give too much , but you can't give too little ....ai yai yai yai yaii !

Then the damn greeting cards. If I met the guy who invented greeting cards , I'd take my chappal and whack him ! Why can't we just assume that all the people you know wish you well , why do you need a flowery piece of paper to say these things ? If you are so keen to give some paper to someone, write something yourself ! For god's sake don't buy greeting cards written by some Chinese guy in a sweat shop in Taiwan trying to translate Shakespeare so he can write captions for greeting cards ! Or some disgruntled advertising copywriter doing it so he can make some extra money on the side , so that he can in turn buy a gift and greeting card for his girlfriend !!!!! Why do women enjoy greeting cards so much anyway ??? I know why , BECAUSE IT"S THE THOUGHT THAT COUNTS". In that case, Why , oh why can't we just assume that all the people you know wish you well?????

2006 has been neither a good nor a bad year , it's just another year .Happy , happy.

Harold and Kumar go to Churchgate Vada pav !

This story starts like all other involving Tjuan and Dbest, after a couple of beers. So, we are a couple of beers down and the conversation is flowing faster than the beer. Suddenly Dbest turns pensive and says,”You know what baap?” I had heard these words many times before, it bodes doom, usually mine, I’m afraid to ask but poke tentatively,” No, What?”

“You know what I want, the perfect vada pav. We get vada pavs in Dubai but Mumbai ka vada pav is something else.” Tjuan is immediately taken back in a black and white flashback to the more memorable vada pavs of his past. The OLPS canteen vada pav,the Bandra station vada pav on the way home from school, the Marine lines station vada pav on the way home from Xavier’s , and best of all the Churchgate station vada pav on the way home from work !

“Arre yaar!”I exasperated. I have been thinking of the very same thing.” You know what the perfect vada pav is?”. “It is not just a batata vada in a bun, it is more than that, and it’s a Mumbai institution! It is vada pav made from the sweat of the Mumbai slums, literally!” I then went on to describe the perfect vada pav in great detail. “

The perfect vada pav consists of a number of essential ingredients. The bun is made in batches of millions in the huge metal ovens of some obscure Parsi bakery in Chinchpokli. The batata vada , made from boiled potatoes grown by the salt of the earth farmers of Satara ,Maharashtra. The boiled batata cooked in the most amazing masala possible is rolled in the perfectly made besan and deep fried in 3 days old oil till it is crisp on the outside and melting consistency on the inside. When you order a vada pav make sure the vada pav stand is built on a local gutter whose fumes have infused the vada pav stand. The vendor will then use his grubby hands (with which he has just washed a plate or scratched his arse)to grab a bun , smear it with dry garlic chutney, then as an afterthought put some more , grab the hot vada from another large plate kept open to the various insect life that have already feasted on it , and shove it into the bun. At this point your mouth is watering more than your stomach can bear. To pull a kicker you tell him, “Tikha banana(spicier)”. This was all that he wanted to hear, he has wet dreams about people like you. He immediately opens another pot of 2 day old green chutney and generously pours it over the vada in the pav! He then reverently hands you the gourmet meal. By this time , you have no time to waste, you grab a load of freshly deep fried green chilies ,put it into the vada pav and chomp for all you are worth. The explosion of taste, heat and spice burns your tongue, makes your eyes water and your nose bleed , but you have waited for too long for this to affect you. You chomp again , bringing a fresh flood of tears, and this time some skin in your mouth peels off. The third chomp and you’re done ! You feel cheated, you haven’t swallowed the first one then you say , “ek aur banana(one more)”. After 2 more , you have had enough , the hiccups won’t stop. Now this is the best part , you need water . But water is not the solution for vada pav. You raise your thumb and ask for a Mumbai style icon, a Thums Up ! He pops the crown and hands you the bottle. The thums up reacts with the spice and heat in your mouth and the gas explodes, the cola burns into your tongue. It is the greatest gastronomical experience, EVER!

Any way, so Dbest also happened to want to attend some friend’s birthday in September. So , Harold and Kumar headed to Mumbai in search of the perfect Vada Pav.

We booked Air Arabia to and fro to make it a Kamikaze trip. Land , explore , chomp and return. Dbest located on the net and booked at the FOUR SEASONS HOTEL in Juhu including Airport Pick-up and breakfast! We got to Mumbai. Air Arabia is a no frills airline , the Gulf equivalent of a State Transport bus ! The hotel sent a car to pick us up, a beat up old maruti van. This did not bode well for the quality of the hotel. No matter how many times you come to Mumbai , the complete overall zest and pace of the city instantly engulfs you. Suddenly you feel as if you have to look at your watch. If people in Mumbai had a cloud over their head , like in comic strips , they would all be thinking the same things .”will I get that 7.38 bus, will I make the last train , will I get a seat on the bus , will there be autos available?,”. It is the essence of the pace with which life runs you in the city.

The beat up old maruti took us across the tracks from east to west by the Vile Parle flyover and right to the Four Seasons situated next to the Prithvi theater in Juhu. I had been to that hotel once, many years ago. It was half decent then. Now it’s a dump, or has definitely seen better days. The room was barely adequate but it had a TV showing cricket and we had 24 hrs beer service, so it served our purpose.Dbest’s friend had come to see us at the airport and stayed over for a few drinks. After the friend left we continued , we were on holiday after all ?!!. Sometime around 1 am Dbest brought up the Vada Pav. We were now too close to ignore it. It had to be done. The best place at this time to get one would be Juhu Chowpatty. This place is credited in history along with Marine Lines chowpatty as the birthplace of Mumbai Chaat. We were bound to get vada pav there !

We got into the 1^st auto available and pointed in the direction of the vada pav. We got there in about 15 seconds. But the familiar sight of the stalls did not appear , so I thought it was a little further down. But then we almost reached S.V Road so we took a U Turn. Then I recognized the Ramada Hotel loom up in the darkness and we got off! The sight that greeted us was one of the most heart wrenching in a long time. THE STALLS ON JUHU BEACH HAVE BEEN DEMOLISHED!!! Many a trip to the beach on those long trips from Chembur would culminate with a Ragda pattice and Gola . A trip to the beach was not complete without it. As a boy I could not leave the beach satisfied till this ritual was complete. I could not believe my eyes. I went to the centre of the plot where the stalls had been , now only sand in my toes. I kept flailing my arms about feeling for the familiar lights and sounds. The world had begun to spin, but Dbest reminded me it was just the 6 beers we had just drunk taking effect. So we got onto another auto and ate Anda Bhurjee and roti from the stall in front of Juhu bus stand. It was an interesting experience , and the first time I felt that Mumbai is not the Bombay I grew up in .

The next day , we were a bit distracted from our quest . Dbest had a lunch date in Powai and I had a lunch date at Mahesh Lunch Home. The name says nothing. It’s a seafood joint , probably owned by a Mangalore Shetty.I met up with an acquaintance , we discussed matters of mutual interest and parted ways. I then decided to resume my jeans quest, since I still hadn’t found my jeans utopia. I finally found it , at Shopper’s stop in Bandra. I got back to the hotel to discover that Dbest had bought one at In orbit Mall in Malad on his way back from Powai .After comparing notes , we settled down to watching India try to lose a match in the DLF cup against Australia and succeed. That night we had to party at Cabana a.k.a shooters in Bandra for the Birthday Party we were there to attend. The birthday baby got so drunk that the driving duties settled fairly with the one with most experience driving under the influence, yours truly ! And as luck would have it , one party animal had to be dropped off at a barn in MARINE LINES ! So I shifted a manual right hand drive vehicle into gear and followed S.V Road to town. The right turn after Mahim church , the tree in the middle of the road at Dadar Catering , the left right at Siddhi Vinayak , avoid the divider at Worli , the now new flyover at Annie Besant , Race course, Hajji Ali , up the hill at Breach Candy , down to Wilson college , Marine Drive and after a few left rights and a barn we were on our way back. We stopped for a quick collection of beverage and change at the hotel. The after party was in Andheri where the laughter machine , the king of wit , the sultan of ding - Dbest held court till the wee hours of the morning. But we knew that our purpose had not been achieved as yet. The one voice we heard in the back of our head was repeating,”Batata Vada! Batata Vada! Batata Vada!”

The next day went in visiting friends and relatives. We went to Borivali, Kandhivili, Goregaon and Andheri to meet up with my old friends and some new ones. We looked in on Madan Rao, formerly Madhavacharya, now Madhu Gopal since he got married! There was no time for vada pav that day. We did eat some sweet biryani at someone’s house! It is an experience I do not intend to repeat.

The next day we went looking for shoes, for me of course, I have the same problem with shoes that I have with jeans. So we went to Bandra, sure to find the perfect vada pav at the Elco Arcade chaat stands. We got a vada pav but it was not the vada pav that I had described. Elco is not really the place you want to go for vada pav. Elco is the place where women go to buy women’s clothes and then they want to eat paani puri and sev puri and other such non-stud-ly food! We did manage to get a Bandra favorite, the Frankie, opposite Andrews College. The hot juicy meat and masala from the Frankie dripping down our chins, we headed back to the hotel to prepare for departure that evening.

We took the flight back that evening, disappointed. Our purpose had not been achieved. We did not have time to go to Dadar and feast at Balaji Vada Pav or outside Churchgate station where I have my fondest Vada pav memories. We did achieve a lot of other things though.

On the flight back the mood was pensive. The aching in our tummies informing us of the incomplete mission. As I drifted off to sleep, I put this Tjuan adventure into perspective. The changing face of Mumbai surprised me but I don’t know why. It has moved on since I left in October 2000.I have visited since but never with such a determined effort to revisit old memories. I felt lost, I felt humbled and small, I felt like the invisible umbilical cord that connects us to our origins was weakening. I saw my friends adjusting to their new situations in life and coping with the changing world around them. It made me realize that I have to really now relook at who I am and where I come from. As I have, technically, completed a third of my life, I must now start a new phase of adventures.

It's an Ad Ad world !

Life should be like a TV commercial. Simple. In TV land all problems have solutions and everything is done with a sense of humour . Why can't life be like a commercial ?

The commercials start all the same , there is a problem , domestic or otherwise and the solution is the product being advertised . The first frame shows worried, troubled faces, once the product is used , everyone lives happily ever after. This is classic marketing and sales. Marketing = creating a need and Sales= fulfilling that need.But that is not what this is about.

The thing to note , is the parallel universe in which the characters in these ads live in . When you watch these ads it's like a mathematical theorem or the laws of physics. for example ,
all things remaining equal = if everyone is already living happily ever after
and the balance is upset= there is a domestic problem
it is merely a shift in the energy of the universe= the inclusion of the product
to maintain equilibrium= returns the harmony in life
I know this is not perfect , but since this is my blog and my theory , I am allowed to take philosophical liberties. But you get the general drift ...

Anyway , these people are happy people , always. They go through life happy with who they are , where they are and what they are doing . There is no conflict , no deeper meaning to things , they are satisfied to be consumers. They go about life with a smile and a wicked sense of humour . A good example is a paint commercial I saw recently , the lady of the house is bragging to a neighbour about buying a new computer and the postman happens to pass by . So she tells the postman that , "your services are no longer required, we will be sending emails from now on ." The funny thing here is that she is telling the POSTMAN - A Government employee ! Like he cares a damn ! ( Nowadays they need more postmen to deal with the large volume of competition postcards ! )

The ad , in one instant catches a glimpse of life , the changing face of urban middle class India seen with a large slice of humour . I find it hilarious and heartwarming at the same time.Although the ad fails to sell the product effectively.And this is another topic I have been known to highlight . Advertising agencies prepare commercials that will get them awards and not necessarily those that sell products . But that is another discussion.

My favourite ads are the coffee ads , beautiful successful hard working people in all parts of the world sharing the same brew of coffee. It makes you want to be part of that world , reach out and touch those people. I would love to live in such a perfect world.Makes me want to go out and buy the product . Now that is an effective ad.

Pity , I'm not coffee drinker !But , why can't life be more like TV commercials ?

Back on the slide!

I went for my first outing with the Dubai Rowing and Sculling Club Wednesday morning 4.30 am! Bow side, decidedly uncomfortable, I want to row stroke. I will be back in the stroke seat next outing!

Went out in the double sculls this morning. It will take some getting used to again.I have blisters all over my hands which will soon become corns. The irony is I just had my thumb operated to get rid of an old rowing injury that refused to go away!

I am joining the DRSC http://www.dubairowingandscullingclub.com/

This is the beginning of my third innings?