Archive | March, 2011

Death by Traffic Accident/ Life is too short for traffic

21 Mar

There is no doubt in my mind that I *will* die on one of Hyderabad’s main roads in another week or so, maybe I’ll last a month if I’m lucky. No, I am not exaggerating.  I’ve survived three years in Bangalore where people seem to believe that driving reasonably = dying at the slowest possible rate.  Really.  Everyone in the driver’s seat glares at all the other drivers, thinking something like ‘ehhh how DARE that oily walrus-mustached auto driver muddhafuggah look at me like I’m driving slower than him! What he thinks he’s Rajnikanth and I’m some sort of pussy ah? I MUST prove him wrong’ and then drives like a suicidal lemming wherever there is any patch of road available (please note that ‘road’ here means ‘anywhere I can maneuver whatever I’m driving’).

Now, Hyderabadis want to live dangerously as well. Fair enough. I lead a dangerous life too (I let my browser display non-secure items ahem). However, things are so bad here that, chickens would not be able to even try and cross these roads (tee hee, yes I’m aware that that was lame ok).  While they might not be as all-over-the-road (or lack thereof)-ish as Bangaloreans, Hyderabadi’s make up for the insane quotient with their speed. I don’t even need to blow-dry my hair in the morning; all I have to do is stand by the roadside.

Look, I have statistics to prove my point:

See – in 2010 , there were 494 deaths which is more than one death per day, and 2622 people who died probably while trying to cross the road. And, if you look at the number of deaths in 2011 so far, that’s 69 deaths and 428 injured in 79 DAYS!!

This chart clearly illustrates that pedestrians are the ones whose interactions with traffic are most fatal. I’m sure that a majority of that long green bar consists of mountain-dwelling tamilians who very sensibly looked both sides on a one-way road and attempted to cross the road, and WHAM, were rammed over by some stupid Speed-Racer wannabe. Usually I believe that drivers will try not to hit pedestrians, because, I mean, you’d have to go to jail, and no one wants that. However, I may have to rethink things here. Oh fuck I’m going to die before Muse tours in India.

I probably should get cracking on writing on my Final Will & Testament then, eh?

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“You are a mature woman, and they mature boys, you understand”

11 Mar

Wuuuuduuuup my non-existent brethren??!

I ‘m good, I’m good. Was accused of being a HOOKER, but yeah, I’m good otherwise. Heh. Let me explain.

I’m back in Hyderabad btw. It’s been more than a month since I moved here. After a decent amount of time chillin like a villain in Kodai, I finally decided to acknowledge two things:

1)      this waiting for it to fall in your lap business doesn’t work

2)      life really doesn’t give a shit about your plans

So I decided to do what sounded all ooh-ish in my mind, but friggin scary in reality: I left for the city with a suitcase in one hand but with no job in the other.

The plan was to crash with my friends  Der Lamb and Evil Genius until I did find employment. As you can probably tell, they be specimens of the male species, and have rented out the top most floor of a two-floored residential house type set-up. I’d stayed with them before so I didn’t really anticipate any problems.  Then again neither did Caesar when he decided to attend Senate on the Ides of March.

It was all fine for a while. I landed this job interview and I have no idea why, but they decided to hire me! (I mean, most of my talents cannot be put on a resume *cough cough*) Anyways so I would leave really early and come back really late (it was a REALLY long commute). Once in a while I’d run into the house-owner who seemed like one of those nice, shy middle-aged types, but as the boys had told him that I’d be staying for a bit, we’d politely ignore each other.

And then one morning, I bumped into Aunty.

She stopped.  Looked at me. I smiled charmingly back. She looked at my hair *first feeling of  foreboding*

Aunty: Yu justa came down the steps eh?

Me: no shit Sherlock Yes, Aunty. I’m going for work.

Aunty: So, yu arre saying, yu spent the night with the boys?

Me: shit shit shit Um. Just for the time being until I find a new place to stay.

Aunty: *stares at me with look of judgment*

Me:* shit shit shit shit  I wonder if this is what it’ll be like with St. Peter…shit shit shiiit*

I hurried out past her and as I have a memory of a goldfish on crack, forgot all about the Incident.

The next morning and who do I bump into, but Uncle. So naturally I give him that polite ‘oh look that dog’s peeing in front of the house again’ nod and made to walk out the gate. And then:

Uncle: Are you living here?

Me:*shocked that he’s actually talking to me* oh, what?

Uncle: *looking at my ear* No, you are staying with Der Lamb and Evil Genius or what?

Me: fuck, should I distract him by mentioning the dog again? “ I’m actually looking for a place to stay, so I’m staying here in the meantime.”

Uncle: *now addressing my feet* Listen, you are mature girl, and they are a mature boys, you know what’s happening”

Me: *completely confused*…sorry,  what?

Uncle: *still addressing my feet* “The house next door also, there was problems, some men they were having these prostitute women, and then police came, and whole thing not nice looking you understand *looks at my hair earnestly* you are mature woman, they mature boys, this scene, it not looking nice.”

Me: feels like sinking into the ground *holy shit he thinks I’m a hooker! I should tell him that I’m n–, or wait, or actually not, the boys might get arrested or something* Yes Uncle, I understand, but we’re FRIENDS, and they’re just helping me out.

Uncle:Yes that is there but what would your mother say? *um, she’s the one who suggested this in the first place* You’re all from different states! *a professional hooker wouldn’t discriminate, I’m just saying* And you don’t know, what if these boys they will drink *haha* and suppose one of them grabs your leg! *so glad that he didn’t catch us when we were literally fighting over the last piece of pizza* We *he glances nervously at the house, confirming suspicion that this conversation was instigated by Aunty* only see you entering in the night and leaving in the morning, it’s not nice, it’s not looking nice.   Please understand *he says in Tamil* you are mature woman *looks at hair*, they mature boys”.

Me: *thoroughly fed up with the mature references without the actual mention of the word sex, insulted/amused at the obvious wild hair connotation, and a little hurt by the fact that he talked to me in Tamil* Yes YES I understand! I’m going to leave before we start grabbing each other’s arms and legs!storms off.

Der Lamb and Evil Genius were sweethearts about the melodrama, and wanted to go and have a ‘chat’ with Aunty Herself, but I persuaded them not to.  I left after a couple of days, and we made it a point to drag my suitcase out before Uncle. I don’t know how many prostitutes he knows who make house calls with their luggage. So now I’m staying in a PG with 3 other girls, and where the food is good.

It’s all the untamed hair’s fault I tell you.