RAIN in Bangalore PIA!!!!

Posted: August 27, 2014 in My Silly thoughts

When Summer ends and Rainy season starts we prepare ourselves for the arrival of rain with open arms. When the first rain hits the hot sweaty ground; mud en-thrills and shows its approval by the fragment smell, tiles resting on roof have their bath after the chilly winter and hot summer, while seed sprout and trees shine in glory of pure, fresh water, people in village fry the jackfruit papad, sip the hot coffee and watch the spherical drops forming a bubble in when it hit the ground. Wells all over filled, frogs breed in their favorite weather. Unlikely when it rains in legendary IT den its Pain In Ass. If you are a rain-lover, after the first rain in Bangalore you will start to hate it so much like your ex-boyfriend

Even though day will start with its known characteristic “cold weather”, sun will be smirking at top ruling and irritating with protruding sharp rays. When you think its going to be long sunny day with your sun screen lotion absorbing bingo it starts raining cats and dogs. You will be like woman caught off guard with surprise by her unprepared pregnancy. If you run towards bus top for shelter you will curse the SOB who constructed the bus stop. Water leaking through cheap quality roof you will be squeezed and glared by strange men women and street dogs. You cant chase the dumb animal no matter how you hate their species. The pouring rain and flooded roads change your thinking pattern. Same unfortunate day BMTC bus wont show its ugly ass on time. Bus delayed you will be tempted to get into auto standing front of bus stop. But auto driver being mean ugly Indian will multiply the original price by 4 to 5 times in mind, cleaning leftovers from the meal with his finger and tell you the price. All you will feel like giving a nice lecture on humanity, honesty you will tempted to punch him on his dirty face but you will be forced to cool down without any option. If you are stopping any moving auto they shake their head saying no even before they could hear you out. With that “i-am-king” attitude you will feel like pulling his head phones along with his uncombed oily hair. With left with no option you will stand under the bus stop wishing that you had a boat. Roads will be so flooded that you wont be having idea where you have to keep your next foot. All you can do is remember your god’s name and pray to save you from any mishap. Your pedicured or not leg will shout when they see the dirty, stinking water. There wont be any part of your body left un-kissed by Bangalore rain. Your bags will bear the proof of their adventure it just went through. One minute you are there dressed up in sexy top, high hells, tight jeans, second minute you will looks like a crow drenched in rain head to toe. Not to forget the dirt and waste swimming to find a safer zone. If you are standing beside the road then every passing vehicle shower its and its owners love by splashing the water all over you.

Bangalore might looks like Urvashi in winter with all that chilly wind and fog but in rainy season it looks like Surpanakha.



68 years looks small no to us but I am sure would have looked big number for those who fought and died fighting for our countries freedom and independence. What we E-bay and FB, twitter generation know the value of freedom who sits at home and order pizza online. We Lazy generation are too lazy to vote, too busy to fight for fellow countrymen, too sophisticated to know who is neighbor and too occupied to take a minutes break and recall the whole story behind our freedom and independence. Hosting the flag, saluting it and listening to some scripted speech doesn’t mean a thing

Women are still considered a puppet and harassed and molested every single second. Kids are not safe in school anymore; pedophiles work there, unmarried gal and boy cant walk on the street without being objected because their religion is different, poor cant have roof over his head because he is cursed with poverty and minister is too busy with painting his new house with wash proof paint, innocent people cant survive because he is harassed and dominated every single minute by rich, justice is long gone with tsunami without trace leaving behind us all crippled and worried, people knock at courts door seeking justice and they have to see all their seven generation waiting on the bench, Police are too ignorant to register a complaint because victim is a commoner and culprit has solid political background like oak tree, youth is busy trying out cigarette, alcohol and sex while kids are forced to work to earn their meal; rules, regulations made to save their rights are rusting like BMTC bus rod. Still many more problems in hand when we prepare our self for a government holiday our country is still crying for its freedom

Let’s all remember our ancestors struggle and fight, the blood they shed and their describable sacrifice. Let’s all vow this Independence Day to do something new; let’s start with doing good to your neighbor, your fellow country man. Something nice, something out of blue and make him smile. eg one time meal to a poor hungry man, not dumping the waste on roads. It’s up-to you how you will make 68th independence special. Don’t divide country on basis of religion, caste, custom and state instead be that independent foundation brick on which our countries foundation is laid. With understanding the true meaning of freedom and independence lets decide to live in harmony and peace. Wish you all happy Independence Day


SuperMan and He is MINE

Posted: August 4, 2014 in My Silly thoughts


As I was about to update my age, I was preparing myself mentally. Even though I look like school kid(Thanks you Jesus buddy), have hidden gray hair(Thank you L’Oreal) I couldn’t digest the fact that, I am getting old and soon will be called old cow.

Most of my friends were planning to ease my pain with their own ways. One of my good old friend said “would you like to have box of Ferrero Rocher on your bday….?”.before even he could finish his question I sent him my address along with land mark. Who doesn’t like chocolates?Old lion(my dad) or old cow(not my mom but me) everyone loves chocolates. Then my friend stops for a minute and asked “would you like to have anything else?”. As this question was asked more frequently from past few years, I said “wrap a handsome guy in gift wrapper and send him across”. Saying that I imagined myself unwrapping a guy wrapped in gift paper and laughed. All my friend said was “let me see what I can do”. I didn’t understood the meaning of his words then.

Days rolled and officially I became old cow. As I was not happy with my title I didnt celebrated it loudly but just made of note of all the wishes,flowers, yummy 4 cakes cut and some new goodies. It was almost week by then but still I haven’t revived FR, I was disappointed. I kept quiet thinking may be he was just kidding.

One fine day I get call from nowhere to collect my parcel. As soon as I reached my office receptionist there was this delivery boy holding box. One look at the box and I knew whats there inside, delicious FR. I gave one of my best smile to the delivery boy thanked him heartily. I came to my bay and looked at the box. As I didnt wanted to share MY FR with anyone I didn’t dare to open the box. When it comes to chocolate I am a stingy person known fact.

As soon I reached my pg I threw my bag and opened the gift wrapper. I smiled when I saw the greeting. Puuur, I didn’t care about it, I tore it and threw in dustbin. I was eager to have a look at the glorious golden eggs shining and resting in their nest. All I wanted to do is unwrap them keep in my mouth and closing my eyes I enjoy every bit of it the chocolaty cover and then final treasure the nut.

But then to my utter shock I found superman staring back at me through the final plastic box. I tore the plastic box and held bobble headed superman in my hand. I remembered my dialogue “ wrap a handsome guy in gift wrapper and send him across” and my friends reply “let me see what I can do” and burst out laughing. I laughed so hard that tears were rolling down my cheek. That is something I am never gonna forget.

Good friends know us better than anyone. Their are hard to find but when you find you will be the luckiest person on the world. We share our secrets with them,fight with them, we hurt them and then we apologies them. Good old friends are like belly buttons, always there with us no matter what. Wishing you all Happy Friendship day

Now super man stands on my desk with his bobble head. Every time I see him I remember my friend who made me smile. When I am irritated I just shake the superman and he goes gagagga with his bobble head . How I wish all men were like that with bobble head:)

If you belong to the female species of human being with lactose producing breast and female specific genetic organ which makes you sit and pee then your are not safe in your house, not on the streets, not in school , not in locked car, not in damn cursed country, trust me.  Women are still considered as puppet with whom they can play as they please and flower which they can pluck anytime they want.  Its time we make wise choices and replace lipstick, eye liner, compact with Pepper Spray, Knife and Taser gun.

While the man continues to prove his ugly manhood by forcing women for his physical lust, our old fashioned lady justice wishes to hold the scale of justice with blind folded, politicians try to play their dirty politics without shame, police register a FIR take a deep puff ,scratching their ass till some reporter start stalking them with his camera, women curse all the men with dangling bells for increased rape ratio, whole while rape victim is the only one who is tortured physically and mentally. The trauma she had to go through is beyond imagination.

Young gal was molested in car, 6 year old kid raped in school, driver misbehaved with lady passenger………n, where n is infinite

Ladies, Its high time you start protecting yourself. Make space for safety-weapons in your bag. Even though you forget your vitamin tablet don’t forget those weapons. Use them when necessary. A solid kick to at the center of the culprit might help you little bit. When you think you are ganged up and you don’t have any options, then just run screaming and shouting all the while waking up the sleeping world and god. Keep your eyes open, and watch out for yourself.


“Don’t let their dirty hands get you, because their souls are dirtier than their hands and your cry will go in vain “By SNL

(Note:All men are not bad, there are really good men out there cheers to them and for all the bad ugly men SHIT to them)



Posted: July 7, 2014 in STORY

With greenery shining all around the place Kammaje wouldn’t have looked prettier, a small village near Kinnigoli town. Jackfruit and banyan trees on either side of the road increased the beauty of the place. Some of the people here were agriculturists with vegetable growing in their backyard, while another few had jasmine flowers, few more were beedi workers and the remaining were in the gulf, pouring their sweat to make their dear one’s life a happy one, back in Kammaje. Among these people lived an old man called Bommayya. With dirty stinking clothes that were white eons, torn Luna slippers and small star shaped silver earrings. Earrings were worn by men back then, not for fashion, but as a religious custom. Even though he was around 70 with gray hair, worn out body, knee pain didn’t stop him from earning his daily bread. In that whole of Kammaje and Kinnigoli there was only one Cowboy and he was Bommayya. Unlike the imaginary fancy cowboy on horseback with boots Bommayya was a real cowboy on his feet and slippers.


 Dark clouds dominating the sky, it looked like it would rain any minute and the showers would pour from up above. While people were all busy collecting logs of wood, dry coconut leaves outside their house to save it from rain, Bommayya was calling names out loud without worrying about the rain. Inka, Bannu, Inna…. When he didn’t get any response he increased his speed, cursing the cause of his worries. The eye blinding lightning, the roaring thunder was unable to shake his gut. It was his love for his cows that made him walk faster in spite of his paining knee.

“Enchina saav maryere!” making me search for them in this bad weather. Let me get my hands on them and I’ll show them what I’ll do, saying this he continued to walk.  Birds were flying back to their nest, somewhere in the background frogs were crying to indicate that the most awaited rain is on its way to shower on the dried lands. Bommayya stood for a while under the big mango tree near Jilly Bai’s house and then his eyes danced listening to the familiar Moo of his cows. When he saw them tied he said “so again, you ladies went to her farm!! Again, my ears will bleed listening to her complaints, and then I have to compensate by giving her free manure. He walked towards his cows and patted their back with love and said “why don’t you listen to me? Huh?”

“How many times I have told you Bommayya to keep them out of my farm?” Jilly Bai’s loud firm voice startled him. Old broken specs perched on her nose, wrinkled up face, gray hair and bent back Bommayya wondered why she still works on the farm. Her sons were well settled in Bombay,wonder why she’s dying here alone on this farm Bommayya thought. Politely he folded his arms as if asking her forgiveness and said “Sorry Jilly Bai, I know this is not the first time, I don’t know why they always come to your farm. Next month you will get the manure, on hearing this, her face lit like 100W bulb. It was like patient’s craving matched with a doctor’s prescription. Jilly Bai wiped her hands with her sari and said “if you insist, then who I am to say no. Anyway take the cows and go, it’s going to pour soon. Saying thank you to Jilly bai he untied the cows he started walking them home.

Bommayya’s father Tukra was into toddy business and mother Nursy was a house wife, being the only kid Bommayya enjoyed his early childhood. But when his father fell from a palm tree and died, Bommayya realized his life is not going to be easy. He, along with his mother moved to his paternal uncle’s house in Kateel. With his mother into jaggery business he went to school only till class 3. He never felt that education will help him earn some money that’s why he quit school and joined his mother in the jaggery business.

Bommayya was in his late twenties when he met Devaki, a widow. Her loneliness or his loneliness he doesn’t know what made him fall in love with her. He started to visit her daily in the night.  Sometimes Bommayya would tell her his worries, troubles and Devaki would listen to him with all ears. He never gave a name to his relationship with Devaki because he never felt the need; he never cared about the society which he lived in.

When his mother questioned him about his relationship with Devaki, he lost his calm and fought with her. When he realized he can never make her mother understand his relationship with Devaki,  he left his mother for good and started to live in a small house near Kammaje. He bought some cows with the little money he had and started to earn money with its manure and milk. With time he learnt everything about the cows, their diseases, cures, mating time, breeding, milking, etc. As he didn’t own any land he would take his cows to the forest owned by government to graze early in the morning, sit with them for a while, talk to them, and tell them his sorrows, his only listeners who never complained. Later he would untie them in the forest to enjoy a little bit of freedom and come home. Most of the time the cows would wander in the jungle and then come back home in the evening whenever Nishmitha bus pass through the main road. That’s the unique routine the cows followed. Whenever they fail to return to home on time Bommayya would walk and search for his cows until he find them. Many a times he had walked till Kinnigoli searching his cows inquiring passerby about his cows.

Men can suppress their need for marriage, craving for kids, but women can’t. Devaki started pressurizing Bommayya to get married and start a family, but Bommayya became mute to Devaki’s pleads. When he couldn’t take it anymore of Devaki’s nagging he started to drink liquor. He would drink daily and come home and pick up a fight with Devaki. When Devaki couldn’t take his tortures she left him never to come back. Depressed Bommayya vowed to never fall in love again. With the cows by his side, Bommayya never felt alone.

When his mother passed away, he mourned for days. He never felt so lonely and abandon his entire life.


One fine morning Bommayya was taking his cows to graze in the forest. While crossing the road one of the cows started running seeing a vehicle, Bommayya tried to control the cow but he couldn’t when the cow increased its speed, its then Bommayya lost his balance and fell on the ground. Bommayya was hurt badly, with bruises all over the body, bleeding head, with great difficulty he reached home and held a cloth to his bleeding wounds. As he was scared that if he goes to the hospital, they will admit and there will be no one to look after his cows, so he stayed at home bearing all pain without cribbing. Seeing his bad condition his good Samaritans neighbor bought him food and fed his cows.

In the passing days when it was impossible for him to move, he cried from his bed thinking about his cows. His neighbors forcefully took him to the Mangalore’s government hospital and admitted him in. His hands and legs were plastered and he begged the nurses to let him go as there was no one to take care of his cows.

After two weeks when the doctor let him go saying to look after himself. He was happy with the fact that over the moon as he will be seeing his cows after a gap of two weeks. When he reached home he was devastated to see his empty cow hut. He called them by their name, he called louder, but no cow showed up. He waited till evening, but his wait turned unfruitful. Its then his neighbors told him that few of his cows were stolen and remaining cows were sold by a rich Konkana guy. He knocked on his door in the midnight, cursed him, his ancestors, he cried and yelled. There were no words to describe about his misery. Konkana guy to shut Bommayya’s mouth gave some money and told him to get lost. With the little money in his pocket Bommayya looked at the sky and said “you punish me, I don’t care but why my cows?”. He wiped his tears then and said “I will get you all back”,

Few of his cows which were bought by some of his neighbors returned his cows free of cost pitying him. There was not a single day when Bommayya wondered about his missing cows and cried. He wondered whether they are fed properly in somebody’s house, or slaughtered for meat.

It was monsoon season; his old house couldn’t take the heavy weight of rain and collapsed. With mud-wall leveled to the ground and roof gone, Bommayya made the nearby bus stop as his home, with water pouring in from all sides. He never complained about anything, in fact, he never felt happy, his cow by his aside he felt content and peaceful.

Old age was the only thing holding up Bommayya from doing his daily chores. His eye sight blurred and his joint pain increased, but still he took the cows for grazing daily.

When Bommayya’s old heart changed its beating pattern he wondered what will happen to his cows if he died. He was admitted to same hospital again by his neighbors. Doctor never thought he would make it. With his senses gone, he talked about his cows with other patients over and over again. Sometimes he would call his cows name loudly and say “come home, it’s late, it’s getting darker. The strangers will take you, come home, come to me”.

In his absence, his cows were stolen again and dragged to the slaughter house. Cows cried, calling him in their own language while he called them, told them to come to him and he will save them from all bad things. Even though he lost all his senses, he knew his cows were in danger. One fine day when he closed his eyes with all images of his cows and memories of his all loving cows floating in front of his shut eyes he never opened them again.

The ages have been passed, time has been rolled like a roller coaster ride, but there are no cowboys like Bommayya in Kammaje. After all this years the bus stop bearing the sign on Bommayya’s existence and cows still stands in same place.



Envying the owners of fancy houses, Jumping from one side to other side to save myself from stamping the damn dog poop I was cursing the all dogs. As I didn’t wanted to repeat the history of stamping the poop and taking the stinking smell with me I was careful while walking on the road.

With shabby clothes, long gray hair hidden by dirty cap, untrimmed gray beard falling on his chest and polio affected legs he was struggling to peddle his cycle with his hand. As he was new to that locality when I reached my pg automatically my eyes fell on him as street light was illuminated on him. When I saw him looking at me I knew it from bottom of my heart that he is going to ask money. He took me by surprise when instead of asking money he focused all his energy in moving the old cycle he was sitting. Rusted roads and the cry of the cycle chain for the oil was enough to know the aged cycle not going to last. Without my knowledge I walked towards him and took out the 20rs and gave it to him. What he did next is something so nice and troubling I can never forget him.  When he looked at the money he smiled and signed with his hand saying no. When I insist that he should have the money he said in his language “No, I don’t want the money”. I stood there for a minute to digest what he just said.

“In this progressing , modern, technology ruling, lazy, cruel world where people do anything for money here’s an old, physically challenged man who refuses to take money in spite of his terrible condition. He may not have clean clothes, food to eat, place to sleep but still he leaves on without begging. When he started to peddle his cycle again I said “its nice to meet you sir, people like you are very rare!”. He smiled, waved at me and continued to peddle. With a plastic water bottle hung to his cycle and no food in view I just wondered when it will when he will have his next meal.


W Warrior

Posted: June 21, 2014 in STORY

Rape, Rape Rape and more Rapes. Father rapes daughter, brother rapes sister and neighbor rapes a kid who calls him uncle, boss sexually harasses secretory,… .What our crippled  and blind  folded law is doing? Sleeping like Kumbakarna till media and public forces it to open its eyes.

I threw the newspaper aside when I felt heavy weight on my head. I threw the paper not caring about the Page-order. That was unlike me who loves everything in order but today I didn’t give a rats ass about some freaking page-order of newspaper. I swore from top of my voice wondering when ancestral, out dated, expired-still in-use rules will change. Going by my country’s history where money, power speaks more loudly than justice I laughed knowing the day will never come. I was angry, I was angry on myself for not being some superwoman who saves all the women in despair and sexual harassment, super woman who punishes the bad guy by chopping his dingles with lawn trimming scissors. When I couldn’t control my anger I picked the paper weight form the table but then changed my mind the picked the crazy ball and hit the wall hard as I could ,converting all my anger in form of energy. When the freaking crazy ball came back in my direction after hitting the wall I bent backward and held the ball with my left hand.

When my husband couldn’t ignore me any longer he looked at me from his laptop screen and said “I know its bad but what you can do?you..”. Before he could finish the sentence I said “yeah that’s what the citizens of this country are thinking “What can I do?”. When they understand their capability they will realize they can change the country. Everyday minimum 10 rape cases wonder what men are thinking themselves? . How I hate these law abiding men, should burn them alive. How I wish I could do that to every single man who rapes women.….When my husband realized he made a big mistake talking to me he gave me a long you cant-do-anything look and continued with his work. When I realized I lost my audience I was frustrated, first the rape news and then my ignoring husband. I started saying alphabets in reverse order and waited, waited for him to give me attention. When he didn’t do as I expected I threw the crazy ball at him as hard as I could. He gave me “you-are-dead-meat look” and started getting up from the couch. I open the main door to our apartment wore my slippers and yelled “see, didn’t I grab your attention? That’s what we people should do”, saying that I ran outside to save my life. Its not that I was scared of my husband but its how I used to react after doing something without thinking. When I realized he didn’t follow me I waited for some time in the stair case wondering what he gonna do.  When I heard the cooker whistle for the third time I had to go inside the house no matter what. I pushed the door and peeped in when I didn’t see my husband I smiled and went inside. I locked the main door and stepped in the kitchen. When I turned off the gas my husband attacked me from behind. He pinned me to the wall and said “sometimes even over smartness is dangerous”. When my husband saw my calculative look he said “don’t forget I am your husband, not a stranger who wants to molest you”. I smiled thinking maybe I scared sweat out of him.


I packed lunch box for me and for my husband and got ready to office. My husband picked his helmet and asked “so all weapons are resting your hand bag?”. I applied coat of lipstick and said “yes honey they are all in place. You want to have a look?”. He walked towards me kissed me on my forehead and said “wonder what will happen to the unfortunate person who by mistake bumps into you?”. I kissed him on his cheek, smiled when I saw my lipstick mark on is cheek. Spreading it like a blush on his cheek I said “wait and watch”. When My husband realized what I was doing he held my hand and said “oh honey , will you stop that, everyday my boss ask me whether i apply makeup and come, today I got to know who is the culprit “. I pushed him outside the door and said hurry, we are getting late. I locked the main door and checked the weapons in my bag. When my hand felt the touch of pepper spray, chilly powder box, a knife I took a deep breath and followed my husband. I may miss my lipstick or compact but I never missed the knife and pepper spray.  Their mere presence in my bag gave me inexpressible joy and confidence.


Sitting behind my husband on his Royal Enfield I was still thinking about the news. Why rape ratio is increasing in India where goddess like Parvathi, Mother Mary, Radha are worshipped? Why punishment for rape is not severe? why politions says “why punish boys for rape?”. May be lack of punishment for rapist motivates the men to try out the crime, or may be they are sadist and want to torture a woman sexually, may be RAPE hype..

I saw a security guard near ATM and wondered whether he raped any woman in his life time?then I saw a guy in formal office wear and again I wondered whether he can be a rapist?I saw many auto drivers and cab drivers wondering same thing…I was lost in my thoughts I didn’t even realized that we reached my office. When my husband touched my leg and said “honey, don’t you want to go to office today?”. I got down from the bike and started walking without saying anything .when I realized I missed something I went back towards my waiting husband kissed him on cheek and said “ride safe”. I stood there watching him leave. With roller coaster in my head I started walking towards my office.


As my husband was busy he couldn’t pick me up way back home. I travelled by bus that day cursing my husband and his stupid work. Free falling conductors, groping men made me edgy. When I got down from bus I was like a time bomb which anytime going to blast.  I was walking on the lane when suddenly power went and street lamps died. I switched on the flash light in my phone and started walking in the empty dark lane. With my ears and eyes on road I was prepared for worst

With one hand on the pepper spray in my bag my mind was alert. I was walking with full speed when on the next turn two guys came in front of me. As it was dark their face was hidden. With one guy grabbing my left hand other held his hand over my mouth. I didn’t move, I didn’t react instead I took a deep breath to calm all my senses. Those men took a minute to realize that I am not resisting. I closed my eyes, took one more breath this time I took deeper one thinking what will be my next move. As I didn’t wanted to be the one more victim of Rape, one more assaulted female fighting for justice for years in court, one more FIR resting in peace in police register, one more public talking item, one more woman who was stamped by men I spring into action. With all the frustration boiling inside me, I aimed my leg at  the man’s  sensitive area  who was holding my mouth  and kicked it hard as if I got a penalty corner.  The painful scream from the person mouth was proof of my solid kick. I smiled sarcastically said to the other guy “Before you lose your fertility like your friend just run for your life”. The man gave me an angry look and held my hair in other hand whole time telling his friend to get up. With my free hand I took out the pepper spray and sprayed it over the man’s eyes. With his scream reaching the sky some people came to help me. Second guy was trying to run when I caught him with his collar and said “what did I tell you brother?”. To run! But you didn’t listen. Saying that I kicked the man’s center part with all my might, second penalty corner. Even Messi wouldn’t have kicked the ball like that I thought. People were thrashing them left and right. I was still trembling thinking what would have happen if they would have succeeded in their mission. My heart beat sound was  loud like tribal drum. I tried to calm and took deep breaths. When I felt better I patter my back and said to myself “Women are not week , they just need to fight back”.

People were thrashing both the guys. Both of them were bleeding and were begging them to stop beating.  While one was unconscious other was crying loudly saying “sorry, sorry, never going to do that again”. May be he will take few months to recover from his blow I thought.  I started to walk when familiar Royal Enfield stop near me. My husband looked at the crowd and then me and asked me “what happened?”. I smiled at him and said “nothing honey, two guys were teasing some lady and she taught them a lesson which they never going to forget”. My husband gave me an i-know-that-you-did smile and started the bike.