My friend the movie star

I was the fat, shy, brown one (still am) and he was the lean, smart, fair one - but he never made fun of me.

His house had a very long front yard and a brick wall painted white with a red border. He had a TV and a top-loading VCR and an ATARI which made me very envious. We would watch Jamie and the Magic Torch and Johnny Sokko and his Giant Robot and then play games on his ATARI. I remember one game in particular - pixellated cowboys on either side of the TV screen shooting at each other (this was no X-box 360, but we loved it to bits). He ALWAYS beat me at this because he had a slick technique for killing my cowboy with ricochet bullets.

His little sister used to peek her head round the door and smile her pixie smile when I was around. Perhaps she had not seen someone so short and fat before.

Once when we were 5 or 6, we decided to walk home (about 2 km, I think) after school - two boys in navy blue shorts and wrinkled white shirts weighed down by their school bags walking in the dusty summer afternoon swinging their water bottles blissfully unaware of the green buses roaring past them. I got a ticking off from my mother for doing it and then I heard her talking to his mom about what their boys had done (which meant that he got into trouble too!)

After we left school, I saw him once in my teenage. He had shot up to more than 6 feet, had a booming voice and looked like a movie star while I was still the old roly poly. I envied him even more then.

Last week, I rang Anoop on his mobile after a gap of about 15 years. We talked about our lives and our families. We talked about the good old school days. He sounded like his dad - at least, what I think his dad sounded like all those years ago. He sounded mature and decent and sincere. He sounded excited to hear from me. More than anything else, he sounded just like the friend I used to walk home with - swinging water bottles in the summer afternoon.

a chrome fruit and some geography lessons

Rejath and I were the Laurel and Hardy of our group. He had his curly hair and his skin and bones and I - well, I had my generous share of - body fat, I guess. We were both into trivia and once in 4th Std, we qualified for a district level quiz on the 'science of sound'. I remember endless coaching sessions with the teachers describing the workings of SONAR, echo etc (which was exciting in itself, as it meant that we were exempted from some of the more mundane lessons) till a couple of days before the quiz when we got wind of the fact that the whole thing was a light-hearted affair where kids are expected to guess various sounds (for instance, that of a musical instrument or an animal). What a let down, I thought - all that effort for nothing. Anyway we went to the recording studio - the AIR office near Calicut beach - with one of the 'sisters' (the nuns who were teachers in our catholic school). When we got there, there were kids from other schools in the studio already. The adults had left us in the studio and gone elsewhere. Rejath and I were trying our best to be the good boys - the others were running around the room and queuing up excitedly in front of the air-conditioner (a rarity in those days) as it blew cold air into their impish faces and ruffled their hair. The quiz itself, I do not remember much about, but I do remember that my face was burning, which it does whenever I feel shy. We stood around this gleaming big chrome fruit of a microphone dangling at eye level and the quizmaster asked us to shout out our names into the microphone on his cue. When my turn came, hardly any sound escaped me and he had to coax me repeatedly to speak up. The only thing I recollect is that one of the questions was clearly the sound of a string instrument - so I shouted out 'tabla' feeling very smug till the others burst out laughing. In the end, inspite of my bungling, I think we won first place, thanks mainly to Rejath's level-headedness at the age of 9. Afterwards, the 'sister' bought us chaya and pazhampori from the AIR canteen. I could not resist, even though my mother had trained me to say no to 'outside' food (fearing lack of hygeine) - so I chomped into the cold semisolid pazhampori, enjoying every bit of my guilty pleasure. When we got back to the school, there was no one about, it being a saturday. We were herded into the convent where we had lunch in the peculiar deep bowl-like plates which I found strangely amusing. Afterwards both of us had a slice of tea cake.
The other clear memory of Rejath is from 7th Std. I think Ms Vijaya's class. He used to bring his big leatherbound world atlas to learn geography - most of us had thin limp 20-rupee atlases while he had this 'Reader's Digest Special Edition' which used to annoy me a lot, because whenever the teacher described a place on the map, he would pipe up: 'Miss, Miss, it is all very clear in MY atlas'
Grrrrrrr... we were all soon tired of his very clear atlas - I started daydreaming about taking his atlas (which he would not allow anyone else to touch) and beating his brains out with it - Aaaah - the resonating crack in the sleepy mid-afternoon followed by loud cheers from all my classmates as they lifted me onto their shoulders for saving us all from Rejath's inimitable squeak. Sadly, it was not to be, which is why he has now managed to find his way to Minneapolis - I am sure it was all very clear in his atlas!

dream a little dream...

 

Itching for more

I heard on Radio 4 the other day that the average duration of marital bliss these days is three years - after which the relationship apparently starts to fade in all aspects as the partners drift apart in body and soul - the three-year-itch, as it is known

It will be four years of married life for me in a few months, so maybe this is a good time to air out my feelings-cupboard

Rather than clothe my thoughts in grammar and syntax, I think it is best to let the bottom shelf of my brain take over, hippocampus and all

so here goes:

I love her, for she is my little golden girl
she understands me completely - including my annoying lack of understanding
she accommodates me, my imperfections, my selfishness, my jealousy, my aggression, my fears, my insecurities - she bathes them all in her love
songs remind me of her smile, I love the way her eyelashes tickle my cheek, I love the way her hands disappear in my paws, I love the way she trusts me, I love the way she is there for me, I love the way she kisses me with her eyes from across the room
I love her strength of character, I love her drive and her confidence, I love her in pigtails, I love her smile when we dance, I love the way she looks good so effortlessly, I love the way she walks into little perfume clouds, I love being her clumsy beast
I love her directness, the way she tells me I have bad breath and gets me to brush my teeth, I love her with long hair and short hair and oh, did I mention, I love her in pigtails
she sees the little boy in me when I am ill, she holds me like a baby when I am sad, I feel safe with her and I love her for that

and so...

I give you my life - with all it's ups and downs
I give you my soul - a spaghetti ball of love and hurt and anger and sloth and lust and laughter
I give you my unsolicited opinion, my concern and my worries, my moodswings and my misgivings
I give you my right hand and my grimace to open all your pickle jars
I give you a hundred and seventy nine centimetres for all your hard-to-reach issues
I give you my skills with the cordless drill, the vacuum cleaner and the retractable tape measure
I give you my body fat and my halitosis

I give you - only you, for now and forever, my animal shivers

and I promise you - I will scratch your itch away every year

I guess the link below says it more beautifully, so I'll stop now
(the video looks best maximised)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fjDojEOiMcE

a friend-shaped hole

It is an interesting time when your close friend gets married. There is all the excitement and the tongue-in-cheek banter and the preparations. Underneath it all, there is also a slight feeling of unease - a burst of 'what-if' bubbles pop up in my mind:

what if she is reserved
what if she already has HER circle of friends
what if she is jealously possessive (er... a bit like I am)
what if she does not like OUR circle of friends
what if she misunderstands our (my) enthusiasm
what if she does not love him like we (I) do
what if she rearranges his life around her to the point of unpleasantness
what if she makes him disappear from our (my) life

underneath all the surface cheer, there is this never ending series of tiny worry bubbles fizzling away

and then, in a matter of minutes, they are swept away for ever

a smile, a half hug, a few words, his happy face

that's all it takes - for me to know that she fits in-

-to his life... our life... my life

welcome to our world - we need you

to complete us

to fill a friend-shaped hole

perfectly, gracefully, beautifully

look after him for me, won't you