Sunday 24 February 2013

The Mridangist - Part 3


Disclaimer: The story is a figment of my imagination. The characters and incidents does not relate to anybody.

Please find the previous parts here ( Part 1 and Part 2)

Sathvika Thiruvenkatam?” - he asked, raising his eyebrows questioningly, giving her his crooked smile. She gave a fleeting look at her students and stared back at him, her eyes spitting venom.

Yes. How may I help you?” - she said, suppressing the urge to threaten rudeness in every syllable.

Smiling serenely, he asked - Can I have a word with you?”

She shook her head. No, I have class. I am sorry.”

I can wait, no problem. But can we step in and do so?” - he asked politely.

She looked confused - We??”

He smiled and entered the hall holding a small girl's hand. She walked shyly, hiding behind his knees. Sathvika looked at the cute little girl and smiled warmly. The kiddo blinked at her with a pair of round, innocent dark brown eyes and stared blankly up at the guy. Sathvika followed the child's eyes and looked at him, the unuttered question etched clearly on her face.

This is my brother's daughter. He lives nearby. We want to put her in dance class.” - he answered in a rush.

Comprehension dawned on Sathvika's face. Please sit down.” - she said and gave him the class timings and fees details, a little calmly. And if you find it appropriate, you can put her in the class on an auspicious day. Please bring vethala paaku pazham while coming.” - she continued.

He nodded a little impatiently for a reason best known to him. Sathvika ignored his reaction and turned towards the kid.

What's your name?” - she asked, smiling gently.

The little girl looked at him and when he smiled reassuringly, she got some courage to answer.My name is Archana and my chithappa's name is Abhi.” - she said, pointing at him.

Sathvika caressed Archana's innocent face and asked - Would you like to dance here?”

Archana nodded and asked in her childlike voice - Will you give me chocolates if I dance here?”

Ammu!! no..” - Abhi said sternly.

Sathvika ignored him again and said, raising one hand - Sure. Hi5!!”

*************

Anna!! he's running too fast. Oh my god!! Look. Now he's fallen down. Died!!”

There were cheers and jeers everywhere in the room. The boy who exclaimed was having his back patted and slapped by different people.

Enough of Temple Run guys!! Now get back to the drawing room.” - it was Vidhyuth Kaustuban. He held out his hand to get his iPad back.

Anna!! just once. I didn't play at all today!!” - another boy complained. Vidhyuth just shook his head, smiling; he drove them out of the room.

Looking at the boy's defeated expression, Vidhyuth said cajolingly - I will take class now. If you play well here, I will allow you to play with my iPad.”

With that, the boys settled down in a straight line with their Mridangams in perfect position. Vidhyuth started the class. Few minutes into it, Vidhyuth's sister peeped in and waved his mobile phone at him. He looked around and signalled who?” .

Sathvika!!” - she mouthed.

To be continued..

P.S: I will post the next part tomorrow and the story ends in the fifth part.

---Bala Iyengar---

Saturday 23 February 2013

The Mridangist - Part 2


Disclaimer: The story is a figment of my imagination. The characters and incidents does not relate to anybody.

Please find the previous part here

Slunnnkkk” she pulled the side stand of her Activa with her heels and parked in front of an apartment. She checked her face in the rear view mirror. She indeed was looking very beautiful. Her face was somewhere between a round and an oval shape with a perfect little forehead, neatly threaded eyebrows, deep black eyes, sharp nose and a pair of pouty, pink lips. She had tied her curly brown hair up in a tight pony tail and her eyes were lined heavily with kajal.

She touched her face and thought about the drastic encounter she had with the Black Pulsar guy and rolled her eyes, sighing deeply. She snatched her bag from the front hook in her bike and started walking towards the big black gate. When she entered the apartment through the gate and closed it behind her, she heard someone call her name.

Sathvika.. Amma Sathvii..”

She turned and saw that it was the apartment's secretary, Mr. Mahesh. She smiled at him and both of them walked towards each other.

Maa.. There was a person here this morning. He'd seen the board outside and dropped in to inquire about the classes. I gave your number. He might contact you.” - Mahesh said.

Ok Uncle. His name?” - she asked thoughtfully.

Mahesh shook his head a little mournfully and said - He refused to give details to me.”

Sathvika nodded her head and said - Ok Uncle, I will take care. Thanks for the info”
The Black Pulsar romeo had guessed it right. Sathvika was really a Bharathanatyam dancer and she taught dance in a community hall in an apartment.

The geometrically perfect, rectangular community hall at the basement of the apartment was full of hustle and bustle from kids in varied stages of innocence. Sathvika walked in and immediately a deafening silence fell about the hall. Many kids even pushed themselves to sush” at their friends so that they don't get caught for mischief.

Sathvika sat down in front of them and pulled the Thatta kazhi (A wooden log and stick used to conduct the dance) from her hand bag. She sat straight and rapped the wooden log twice smartly with the wooden stick. Instantaneously, the kids fell in order and arranged themselves in three rows.

All of you get ready please..” - Sathvika announced and raised her hand to tap the wooden log again but her mobile rang at the precise moment. The call was from her vocalist friend.

Hello” - she swiped the screen and answered.

Hello Sathvi, sorry to disturb your class. Just wanted to tell you about a Mridangist. There's one called Vidhyuth Kaustuban...” - the vocalist said from the other end.

Is he any good? Last time the Mridangist didn't play well and the kids got very confused on the stage.” - Sathvika interjected in a worried tone.

Vidhyuth is the best you can get. I'll text his number to you. Contact him.” - the singer said and cut the call.

Before she could start the class, there was a knock on the door and Sathvika looked around. Her jaws dropped when she saw that the Black Pulsar guy was standing there looking as stylish as ever. He leaned on the door frame and waved at her with his helmet, grinning vivaciously. 
 
To be continued...

---Bala Iyengar---

Saturday 16 February 2013

The Mridangist - Part 1


Disclaimer: The story is a figment of my imagination. The characters and incidents does not relate to anybody.

Vvvrrrooommm!!!......... A black Pulsar whizzed past her and almost unseated her from the black Activa that she was riding on.

Peeda..” she muttered under her breath in typical TamBrahm style and scowled at him but he had swished past that road before the wink an eye.

She sucked in a lot of air and blew it through her mouth to calm herself down. She slowed down her bike and rode in a speed that even people who walked on the road could challenge and win over without any particular effort.

Before her heart rate could return to normal, the same black Pulsar came very close to her again but this time slowing down as it came. The guy rode past her a little and stopped his bike across her lane, blocking the way. She applied the brakes, looking confused and little flustered. She gazed at him, weighing the chances of him being an womanizer. 70%? No, less than that. He looked more decent, more like a racing bike model to her.

He was wearing a dark blue jean, light green and white horizontally striped T-Shirt, a black sleeveless jacket and a very stylish looking coolers and helmet. He removed his glasses and perched it on the neck of his zip-up jacket. He slipped his helmet off and placed it on top of the petrol tank. He really was looking like a model; too handsome to look away.

Are you a classical dancer?” - he asked, without any preamble.

What??” - she responded, frowning.

He rolled his eyes casually and tried again, more slowly. Are you.. (he pointed at her) a classical dancer.. (he moved his hands rhythmically in mid-air to show dancing)”

The initial shock inside her diminished to get replaced with a dangerous fury. That's none of your business!!” - she snapped.

He shrugged, unperturbed by her snappy retort. Probably!!” - he shrugged again and continued in the same casual tone - I just got curious looking at your dress.”

Her eyes travelled down to her yellow and green practice saree and snapped back at him with a look that clearly suggested, So? What's that got to do with you? Nonsense..” - she muttered mutinously and made to turn her handlebar and move away from that place.

Hey wait!! I just have one little suggestion.” - he said, holding out his arm to stop her.

She felt the heat rising around her ears irately. She glared at him menacingly and arched her eyebrows. He didn't seem to care about her anger. He smiled crookedly and said - Just wear a helmet hereafter. Ok? Will u?”

And why on earth do you care?” - she snarled.

He smiled and it reached his eyes without any difficulty. He looked at her intently through his dark brown, long lashed eyes and said calmly - Because even guys like me would want to come back again and again to have a look at your beautiful face.” He stressed on the word “Me”.

His words made her stomach twist with an indecent rage. Her eyes flashed dangerously. She gritted her teeth and said - “Guys like you will only want to do such cheap things. Indecent Bloody...” - her voice trailed away as she fled past him, leaving him to gape behind her back, accelerating to her maximum.

To be continued...

---Bala Iyengar---

Tuesday 12 February 2013

When God Skypes..



Disclaimer: The following post is a figment of my imagination and doesn't have anything to do with any person in particular. The I and me here does not refer to me as a person. No offence meant to anyone.


Bye di. See you tomorrow.” I told my friend wearily and got down from the white and blue office bus.

With a heavy hand bag on my shoulder, a tupperware bag in one hand and a mobile phone on the other, I walked slowly to my house. Bored as I was, I decided to listen to some quality music that would soothe my ears and calm my buzzing brain.

Quality music” always meant “Ilayaraja” to me. I plugged my earphones in and connected the other end to my phone. I swiped once to unlock my phone and regretted it the next second. There he was smiling up at me innocently, from my phone's wallpaper, with an ornamental flute in his hand and a mischievous glint in his eyes. Krishna.

Krishna!! You...”I muted the rest of my sentence since I didn't want to call the Lord with swear words. I scowled at him and opened the playlist that had Ilayaraja's best melodies.

Mandram vandha thendraluku manjam vara nenjam illayo..”

I wasn't paying attention to where I was going but my well-practiced system took me to my house without my help. I opened the door, removed my sandals and threw my hand bag on the only chair that was available in the drawing room. I dumped my tiffin boxes into the sink and freshened up.

I switched my laptop on and opened the browser and flared up at once when I saw “Cannot connect to server”error page. All the lights except “Internet” was blinking on my modem. I thundered to the wretched modem, grabbed it and banged it twice on the table. Due to the unexpected tremor, the lights flickered and finally all the lights came into life. “That's better!!” I warned my modem savagely and got back to the chair.

I was all worked up because I had a very bad day at work. A very bad week, entirely. What with a prolonging fight with my boy friend, five escalations from the client's end, pressure from parents asking me to get married and almost nil balance in my account, I forgot what it is to be civilized.

I checked facebook and closed the browser and there he was looking up at me again with the same mysterious smile and glinting eyes. “Hey God!!”I started and stopped immediately.“Dude Krishna!!” I corrected myself and continued, “if you have the guts, appear in front of me right now. I would like to have a cozy chat with you.” I ordered menacingly, not bothering to mute any part of the sentence. I glared at the wall paper on my laptop and wagged my finger at him.

                                                        Dude Krishna!! Calling...

                                      Answer with video    Answer     Decline

To my utmost horror, a Skype call request propped up on my screen. I gaped at it stupidly and felt my jaws dropping and heart skipping a beat. With shaking hands, I clicked “Answer with video”. After what seemed to be ages, the call got connected.

There he was, handsome as ever in a bright blue T-Shirt with his collars up. His curly hair cascaded all over his forehead and ears and his eyebrows were thick. The characteristic bewitching smile was in place and his eyes had the same mischievous glint that I remembered from the photographs.

With my mouth hanging open, I stared at him as he adjusted his mic and headphones.

The first thing I heard him speak was,

Hey, can you hear me?”

I burst out laughing. “Ha ha ha!! kadavulae!! unakum idhae nelama dhana?” :D

---Bala Iyengar---

Monday 11 February 2013

My "Dabba" Darling!!


I was suffering from a writing spree right from the morning and in my prolonged hours of vettiness, the thinking cells in my brain got activated and gave me the idea of blogging. So here I am, after many trials and errors and little help from google in creating an account, writing my first ever article/post/blog/whatever..

With thoroughly no clue about what I am gonna write, I looked around me for some inspiration and considered writing about anything that would give me the spark. Streaking through the train of thoughts, my mobile phone rang in Kamal's voice - "Thaka Thaka Thaka Dhina Dhina Dhina". It was my mom. She asked me to pick her up from the bus stand. Resuming the journey in my thinking-train I made my way to the bus stand and suddenly realized that I was riding on my "topic". Yes!! That was it. I decided that my first post is gonna be about my scooty. Scooty Pep+, to be more precise.

I decide to call it My "Dabba" Darling because, well, it actually is.

First of all, I would like to define the word "Dabba".

Dabba: It's a tamil word that literally means a "box". But travelling deeper into tamil grammar and exploring the nuances of it, we have found a new meaning to the word in question, haven't we? ;) So here, "Dabba" means anything close to "almost useless".

My scooty is with me for almost six and half years now and I still remember that the first six months I rode on it, I did not have license :P I only had the LLR.

The copper and black bujji scooty that I have, has seen the real "me". It knows how crazy I can be when I am happy and how lousy I can get when I am sad. It knows how bad I am at directions because most of the time I have asked for the route to my own house to various people ranging from elaneer thaathas, auto annas to walking pora maamis. :D

It is a crime-partner to me because it has never let me down to my parents when I sneak out to a place without telling them about it "officially".

A loyal friend because it stood by me when my so-called friends decided to demonstrate how it felt when they broke the trust I had on them. My darling "Dabba"  knows the best people I have ever had in my life and also the worst.

It has shown me how blissful one would feel when she rides the two-wheeler with that "Special Person" sitting behind her. :) (Reminds me of 3 idiots here.. lol..)

I still cherish the days (read as nights) my bro and I used to ride on it. We used shake my mother off with an excuse "Amma, Bike lessons. There won't be any traffic after 10:30." and roam around.



It reduced to become a "Dabba" because I tortured and tormented it by dropping it on all possible main roads in Chennai (I got hurt too, mind.). My "Dabba" is all fine when I don't bother to give a bath to it but gets all worked up when I don't give the required amount of food (Petrol ofcourse). It mercilessly used to whine and stop when it's stomach is dry and I would have to drag my darling all the way to a  "Restaurant" (Petrol bunk). :P



Though many people have suggested that I sell my bike, I very well know that I won't be able to do it because My "Dabba" Darling has become a part of my life and I am not ready to sell a part of my life to anybody. :)

--- Bala Iyengar ---

P.S: Please feel free to throw brick bats and flower bouquets on me. :D