Penury - I

It's never easy without money, is it?

I've experienced a week of being reduced to near-poverty. Not because of an unavailability of funds, more due to the fact that I was unable to access them.

Thursday last: it was a really screwed-up day. I began my trek to Davis Square to catch the train to Alewife. Being the last-minuter that I am, I left home at 10:05, and it takes anywhere between 15 and 20 minutes to get there. I reached there just in time to see the 10:23 train depart. My bus from Alewife, #76, plies once an hour. Doomed to an hour of boredom, I waited for the next train, arrived at Alewife, and began the hour-long vigil.

Mind you, Boston-Cambridge-Somerville could rival Chennai for humidity. By the time I reached Alewife, I was swimming in my clothes. The crotch fared no better. Ugh.

At approx. 10:58, I, absorbed in Irschick's Politics & Social Conflict in South India, happened to notice a bus labelled "76." Noting the time, I chose to ignore the departure from normalcy (the next bus was only scheduled for 11:30).

"My saviour," I thought, generously heaping huge servings of lavish praise on the MBTA & bus driver.

Little did I know that I would never be the same after that ride...
(idhu konjam over dhaan, theriyum, but bear with me).

Upon boarding, I noticed that the regulars on the bus seemed absent. "No matter," I said to myself, "I shall survive without their august presence."

The bus driver seemed hell-bent on disturbing my reverie every few minutes with stunning shows of poor driving. Chennai-oda two-wheelers madhiri he was otifying the bus - Darting through this gap, past that truck, braking suddenly and happily cursing the other motorists for what obviously, their incompetence, he began to wear on my nerves. I need the bus ride to prepare my mind, or what passes for one, for the rigours of the day. Being jolted forward almost into the seat in front of me and hearing screams of fright from standing passengers did me no good.

Nor did it do me any good when the bus appeared to depart from its normal route. I assumed some sort of short cut, and gave it no further thought. A nagging doubt pervaded my confidence. Could I have boarded the wrong bus? "Pshaw," I said, "This is highly unlikely."

However, this fear was confirmed when the driver arrived at what appeared to be a hospital in Bedford. Speaking to the bus driver, I learned that it was the #62, that had been masquerading as the #76. On top of this, the bastard was smug! I bit my tongue and asked him the best way to get to Hanscom Air Force Base, which is near my office building. He told me that I'd have to walk 2 miles from some road. Fine, I thought, what's the worst that can happen?

Well, I walked two miles along a stretch of road that had no pavement, with cars zooming past at 50-60 mph (aka 80 ~ 100 kmph), at around noon, on a very humid day. Still, my spirit wasn't dampened (though my shirt certainly was). However, as I approached my destination, I realised that it bore no resemblance to anything I'd seen before. I spoke to a security guard about my predicament, about needing to reach my office, on Old Bedford Road. Being kindly, he pointed me in the right direction (finally!) and added that it was another 3 miles. What else to do? As I began the long haul along the suggested route, I called my colleague, Eric, to inform him of delayed ETA.

Me: Eric, I got somewhat lost, and will be there by about 1 or 1:15. (it was 12:20 then). I've to walk another 3 miles.

Eric: Again?! (I had called him earlier, as I alighted from the bus) You want a lift or something? I can pick you up.

Me: Thanks, chap, but there's a problem with that - in order for you to pick me up, I'd have to tell you where I am. Sadly, this valuable information is unavailable at this time.

Eric: (chortles) OK, see you in a while.

I walked another mile or so, to find myself face-to-face with MIT's Lincoln Lab. facility, from where the *correct* bus could be taken. The only problem - it was another 45 minutes before it would leave. Sweating buckets, with no food since the previous night, I waited it out. Finally, at 1:15, the bus arrived. Thanking my stars, I boarded it. I arrived at office at 1:28, after a three and a half hour commute.

This is the build-up. More to follow.

The loss

There was once a woman of very high standing in society. She was the village cook. Everyone looked up to her, respected, admired and loved her. When she walked down the street, everyone turned around and paid their respects.

(This could also have something to do with the fact that each of the people she provided food for had outstanding debts, and that their currency was called "respect," but we'll leave that for another day)

One night, she was publicly spurned by the richest family in the village and asked not to ever return. She cried & cried, begging to be taken back, but it was all in vain. Everyone in the village had seen her being humiliated and she felt so awful that she almost poked a needle into her hip (sui-cide, get it?). She even considered leaving the village. However, at the advice of some friends, she decided to stick it out. Her finger that is, at the rich family.

When she returned to her house, she found that she could no longer cook the delicious meals that everyone loved so much.

She went on a trek to the Nilgiris (the one in Royapettah) to ask for answers while buying maavu. There she met a sage who was buying some thyme. His name was Parsley. She told him her tale of woe and when she had finished, he gave her a sad smile.

"When you returned to your kitchen, did you notice anything missing?" he asked kindly.
"I... umm... don't remember. I was so distraught," she replied.
"I think I know the reason for the decline. Are all your cooking utensils there?"
"Yeah, they should be... Who would steal that stuff?" she replied, positively befuddled.
"I think your pressure cooker is gone."

She paused, shocked. How would he know what was missing in her kitchen?! She hadn't noticed the loss of the cooker!

"My... my... my... pre... pressure..." she began, after slightly recovering from the shock.
"Cooker," he finished, helpfully.
"Y-y-yes. H-how would y-you know that i-its g-g-gone?"
"Simple. You've lost your prestige."

End Mokkai.

Inspired by magix'n'curses's semma kadi stories.

I just want to be a student

While chatting with a friend today, we both griped about having to get up early for work - he lives in Singapore, and was just about to hit the sack. I agreed that work was a pain, at times. Awakening each morning to the realisation that you have to vacate the cosy comforts of bed, perform daily routines and then head to work is quite awful.

I'm tired of work. Not the work itself, but the routine. Being a student is better - of course, this could be one of those grass-is-greener things. Of course it is. It's escapism, plain and simple. Whatever I'm doing, I secretly build an escape route. Last sem., it was the prospect of being away from college, the boring people there and living in a new city, making money, etc. Now, though, (and I NEVER thought I'd say this), I almost wish I was back in coll. Next semester is inviting - decent classes, my own apt., a trip to France & last, and most importantly, going back to Chennai in December.

9 to 5

Not what you think. I'm working 8 to 7 today, anyway.

That's how long I slept last night. 8 hours! I feel irritated, confused and dazed if I don't have that much sleep. I hope this isn't indicative of a more serious issue. Should work out and eat more fruits. I shall buy some at Harvard Square tonight. The chap at the station had some fantastic cherries, and some rather tasty plums. I think I should start eating breakfast. I feel drained by the time I reach the office and have to rely on the rather crappy coffee (I shouldn't be complaining, though, at least it's there) as an appetite suppressant. I know it's a terrible thing to do, but I'm starving by 9 or 10 in the morn. I think I'm going to start drinking more tea and stuff than coffee. And do some yoga. My calves & hamstrings are still tight from Saturday's jog.

That's it for this grumble. Back to Ork.. err, work. Yes, that's it - work. Capital idea.

I'm back

... And better than ever! Seriously. I fixed my computer last night, and after being away from it for a week, it's a fantastic feeling to be able to go on line, watch movies and generally do random shit.

This week at work has been rather frustrating. As I said before, the work isn't particularly inspiring - surprisingly though, I managed to finish the bulk of it by today. Just some tidying up left, and it'll be ready for review, come Monday. Of course, this entails me to go to work tomorrow, which, after some consideration, doesn't seem like such a painful prospect anymore. What am I going to do at home, anyway?

I did some searching last night and found a sheesha place by Central Square, only 3-4 stops on the subway from Davis, which is close to where I live. Of course, prior to any sojourn there, I need to do laundry.

Why is laundry such a pain in the ass? Why doesn't my effing building have a laundromat? The place by my house is only open until 9 pm, and coming home at 7:30 makes it pretty damn hard for me to lug all my crap there, do the washing & drying and then the folding. Of course, it could be argued that I should come home earlier, but I wouldn't make as much money then. I choose to complain about the inconvenience of the laundromat & my lack of time, while at the same time raking in enough money. It's a good situation, I tell you. Well, I guess the sheesha will be something of a reward once the laundry is done.

Tiredness has also been a predominant feature this week. I get out of bed exhausted, barely able to keep my eyes open for the first half-hour or so. I leave home tired, ride the train & bus tired, and arrive at work similarly. I simply have no energy. Could this be a sign on anaemia? Or am I just being a hypochondriac? Could it just be that I'm not having breakfast, or perhaps not managing enough exercise? I shall continue to ponder these thoughts as I sat at my desk tomorrow.

I haven't been managing much exercise of late, it must be said. Quite annoying, considering my somewhat periodic attendance at the gym last semester. Tut tut, will go the one at the office tomorrow. It'll be good.

That's it for now, I guess. I want to write more interesting things, but I can't think of anything.

'Night.

Sitting here

I'm sitting at my computer in the office rather bored. I'm to decode registers for the Radeon graphics card. Rather interesting - NOT (so far, anyway). I've been away for a long time, thanks to a badly behaved laptop that I haven't had time to send to the depot. It's in a pretty bad state of disrepair.

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I visited New York the past two weekends. I'd like to put up pictures, but don't want to use the office computers for the purpose. Sometime soon, hopefully. I went to a concert last Friday with Shakthi, that was a lot of fun. Tons of annoying Hispanics, though - screeching in my ear, jostling me (me!) and being inconvenient assholes shoving their hands in the way of my lens. And screaming in Spanish. Really annoyed the fuck out of me.

Going to the concert was a somewhat surreal experience. Left Boston around 10 on Friday morning, reach New York City's outskirts (the Bronx & Harlem, pukka ghettos) around 2 in the afternoon and took another frickin' hour-and-a-half to get to 42nd St., where the bus terminus is located. I think that city has worse traffic (read: slow-moving) than Chennai & Bangalore. It's more disciplined, though - which isn't much of a consolation if you're sitting in a bus, aching to get off. Not in that way, you pervs. *snorts* There was a bathroom on the bus. Not that I used it.

Alighting from the bus at 3:30 pm, I hastily deposited cheques (ka ching!) without signing them - I place the blame solely on the fact that I was disoriented from my somewhat long shuttle on the bus). Purchasing tickets to Philadelphia and then a quick meal, I forgot to return to sign the cheques. Rushing to the bank 10 min. before it shut (for the weekend, mind) and rushing back, I nearly missed my 6 pm bus. It was quite ingenious how Shakthi managed to save me a seat, but that's story better told in person (requiring rather loquacious hand movements and such).

Philadelphia... hmm, shady place. No other way to put it. Both times I've been there, I've felt it. It's a weird city. You have to be there to understand what I'm saying. But hey, I was only there for a few hours, and decided to pay it no mind. Post-concert, we had an hour or so to kill, which we spent engaged in philosophical debate in a neighbourhood park - at 1 am, I hasten to add. Halfway through a rather interesting point, I was rudely interrupted by what appeared to be stream of gas. Again, I would like to remind more crudely-minded readers that this would be along the lines of tear or nerve, not some form of anal expulsion. Where was I? Oh yeah. The sprinkler system for the lawn sprayed jets of water in our direction. Being in a supine position, being hit by the spray was unavoidable. For a moment, that is. We were quick to our feet and off to the pavement before reinforcements could drench us. Taking shelter beneath a tree, we continued our discussion before heading to the bus station.

If you've watch Seinfeld, you'll know what it's like to have a vending machine screw you, as one (no, two - they were evil twins) did me. Caught between conflicting emotions of wanting to smash its glassy front and not wanting to disturb my comrades at the station (shards of glass are never fun when you're asleep), I punched it twice, and left it at that. Deciding that it was time for the bus, we enqueued before the door. It was late, delayed by 40 min. Upon getting on the bus, we promptly fell asleep, only to be awoken by the gasp of a lady that found a gent reclining on the floor, his mind in Slumberland. Not the furniture store, its metaphysical predecessor. His head, unfortunately for him & the lady that spotted his form, was blocking the entry to the latrine. Poor chap.

Reaching New York at 5 am, we ate at a diner and discussed Chennaiite pretentiousness. The rest of the trip was relatively uneventful.

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This Wednesday, it was Independence Day. For myself (from work) and for the US. Walked around Boston for many hours, observing people, photographing buildings and taking in street shows. Waited (and waded) through drizzles, puddles, wind and generally unpleasant weather for the night's fireworks. They certainly were worth the wait, though. THIS IS A REMINDER FOR ME TO POST THOSE PICS. Quite proud of them, I am.

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Monday night, while waiting for my clothes to finish, I decided to try smoking a pipe - my roommate's. A few puffs convinced what an awful idea it was. Onto other avenues of experimentation.

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Haven't done hookah in a while - must remember to do it soon.