Excuse you!

1) "How come these awkward situations present themselves to you guys out of the blue.. Do you actually seek these??!"

2) "No that can't possibly be true.. Are you guys exaggerating?!!"

3) "Can you spot Ankit during a Solar Eclipse??!"

The answer to all of the above commonly thought of questions is "Maybe". What prevents me from responding with a resounding "Yes!" to the first two questions are experiences like the one I recently had in Singapore. No awkward situations being sought. No exaggerations.

I had just flown into the beautiful and super-efficient Singapore after a long and convoluted flight from London. I checked into my hotel room after receiving excellent hospitality from the staff. As soon as I put my bags down, my eyes fell up on the hotel facilities brochure. As if destiny had planned it, the first page that I happened to browse was all about a 'relaxing and soothing' massage. Yes. I know. Chirag, Shetty and I haven't had the best fortune with massages. You read the post. We experienced it. Against the voice of reason, I chose to give it a shot. I have to admit, my weary self had a lot of influence on my decision making then. So I went for it.

I won't wax eloquent regarding the actual massage, except that it was absolutely fantastic! The Singaporean masseuse was truly adept at her craft and I could consciously feel my body experiencing strain-drain. I was first gently asked to lay head down and after a while, head up. A warm moist towel was placed on my eyes while the ultimate relaxing experience ensued. Honestly. No complaints. No mockery. No nothing. I may even have had a gentle smile on my face, much like Krishna when he slept in Ramanand Sagar's version of his life. I recall thinking to myself as the massage continued on my feet -

"Wow.. This is amazing. I am so glad I pushed myself to this decision. What a decision it's turned out to be! And what the heck.. I am proud of being open. The last time it didn't go so well, but kudos to me for being open. To being open!"

My proud thoughts of 'being open' were interrupted by the masseuse.

"Mm What?", I asked with caution.

Strain was gained as quickly as it was drained. As you may have learnt by now, my sweat is not shy is these situations. In fact, my parents had taken me to a doctor when I was a kid, because of how much I perspired. The doctor had dismissed the issue saying it will get better as I grew up. For one, I think he meant mentally. And second, I don't think he accounted for situations where I couldn't confirm what the masseuse in Singapore was claiming to see, because of this stupid wet towel on my face! Don't know what it is with us being partially/completely blind in such awkward predicaments. Apart from mustering a meek "Sorry?" in response, I truly didn't know how to handle what seemed more like an accusation, or worse still an observation!

"WHAT!! NO NO! You want to massage wha... Oh hang on! Massage FINISHED!! FINISHED!! Not Pen... Well, why bring it up! Thank God!!! Yes sure!! Great! Finished!!"

"Yes" the oblivious masseuse affirmed.

I got the towel off my face as quickly as I could and was just about to get up when I was interrupted -

"Aacchooo!!", she sneezed right on my foot, adorned with philanthropic aerosols. As ridiculous and unrelaxing that gesture was, I bit my tongue and said "It's OK", only to realise that she wasn't really remorseful, evident from the lack of apology.

I attempted to get up once again, and what do you know!

"Aaaaaaaachoooooo!!!!", this time it was longer, bigger, wetter, leaving me completely and utterly distressed! This is why her defence after seemed that much more redundant!

"Hehehe.. I took all your stress inside me and released it! Now you are completely stress free! You are welcome!!"

"Thank you. Appreciate it".

"You are weelcccomme!" she said gleefully, teaching me a timely lesson about using sarcasm judiciously.

Wondering if the sneeze was actually a part of the massage, I decided to hurry my way out of the room. Another lesson learnt the hard way: If your foot has been sneezed upon - twice - and you haven't had the chance to wipe it off - remember to walk slowly - or else - you will slip - badly - and you will fall - on your behind - in slow motion - and the masseuse will see this - and she will laugh - and you will hold back your tears successfully - probably.

I then walked excruciatingly slowly to my room to take what turned out to be the longest shower of my life. While I was amputating my foot for good measure, I couldn't help but take a solemn vow, "Alright, you just barely walked out of a really awkward and unintentionally embarrassing situation. The silver lining is, no one you know was there! Let's keep it that way. This story goes to your grave. Never share it with anyone. Especially with a handful of people, who, I don't know, you can share an online link with or something. Never. Promise".

SAVE ME - Volume 2 - "The roll reversal"

If you are that ONLY person who has read all our blog posts, two things can be assumed -

1. Life deserves more from you.
2. You've assessed by now that Shetty has always been there. ALWAYS.

He was there to save Ankit when he accelerated and braked my kinetic simultaneously. He was there to save the spanking new Kinetic when this guy decided to gracelessly soil it by attempting a 45 degree turn in gravel. He was there in the rickshaw, when a mother wanted to save her daughter at the cusp of puberty. Well, half there. And from him. 

He was there when Ankit met me one evening, seething with anger and disappointment. Shetty had just revealed that he accidentally dozed off on the train back home, and woke up at Kalwa, which was one stop away from Thane. Ankit took particular exception to this, since he thought it was high time Shetty sorted his ways and showed some maturity, discipline and responsibility. Alas, Shetty was also there the very next day when both of them were travelling home. Both of them dozed off this time, but in true poetic justice, it was Shetty who woke Ankit up at Dombivali - 5 stops away from Thane.

He was selfishly there, when he saved himself from partial nudity by tucking in his shirt quick enough, when his untied massage trousers went down without intimation.

Most importantly, he was there when those innocent little red ants needed water-boarding when they were happily feasting on the biggest buffet they had ever been invited to - Chirag's thighs. Shetty responded to Chirag's "Save me guys!" cry with mass murder. That was the extent to which he was ready to go, just to save his friend. One can only imagine why Chirag's trust in Shetty skyrocketed. Shetty's act was certainly heroic, more so because of the diametrically opposite response from Ankit and me, as we decided to shamelessly invent the term 'ROFL' during Chirag's frantic 'SOS' call. But was it super-heroic? With great trust comes greater expectation, which Shetty found out the hard way a few weeks later.

Chirag and Shetty were at some train station on the Central Line, I don't quite remember which one. Doesn't really matter and moreover, when has this blog let facts come in the middle of a good story! The important detail here is that they were on the overhead bridge, about to take the stairs down to the platform. It was one of those structures where there were two flights of stairs separated by a small landing. It was about 2 in the afternoon, so the bridge and the stairs were characteristically less crowded. Also, I should mention that Chirag had a certain spring in his step that day, since he was wearing these new pair of floaters in which he had recently invested.

So both of them casually started their descent down the first flight of stairs. One step down, two steps down, all good. All of a sudden, Chirag's right foot got stuck in his new floaters. Before he knew it or could control it, he lost balance. Now this wouldn't have been funny, but for the manner in which he fell. How would you picture 'Jill', when I say - 'And Jill came tumbling after'? Now picture Chirag as Jill. He literally somersaulted down the stairs, rolling uncontrollably in shock. Now because of the rolling, Chirag quickly covered more distance than Shetty did, since Shetty was taking the more 'conventional' route. Not aware of how far Shetty was, Chirag's expectation got the better of him. As soon as he realised he was bouncing down like a zorb, he somehow made eye contact with Shetty, opened his arms towards him and in true dramatic fashion went - "SAVE MEEEEEE SHETTTYYYYYYY!!! SAVE MEEEEEE!!!".

Shetty, being Shetty, felt for Chirag then. The cry was familiar, but the eye contact and hand gesture made it worse. He really wished he could have done something to stop this awkwardly acrobatic exhibition of Draupadi's vastraharan. But what could he have done? He did attempt to run down the stairs, but gravity was being overtly possessive about Chirag then. For the first time in years, Shetty had failed to "save" something, or even attempt from doing so. As Chirag came to a harsh halt as he reached the landing after the first flight of stairs, Shetty reached a close second, almost catching up with him. With a guilt-ridden face, he helped Chirag get up, made sure that he wasn't hurt, dusted off his jeans and asked him sympathetically, while they continued to walk - "What happened there?! I am so sorry! Are you OK??"

They had almost reached the second flight of stairs when Chirag caught his breath and responded to Shetty's questions - "Man I don't know, it happened too quickly. Didn't even realise it. I think my toe got stuck in my...." - and Chirag went down again! Exact. Same. Thing! Chirag couldn't believe he was rolling again! It was like the first roll was a rehearsal for his final second performance. His religious reflex compelled him to call out to Shetty again, exactly as he had rehearsed seconds earlier - "Save me Shetty!!!!!!!! Pleeeease Shetttyyy!!! Save me!!! Do something! SAVE ME!!!!".

This time however, Shetty didn't even attempt to follow Chirag. The unexpected and unrealistic expectation filled Shetty with the ultimate feeling of inadequacy. The immediate reaction was not sympathy, but rage! He bellowed at Chirag, who was in the middle of his helpless roll - "How!! HOWWW!! How do I SAVE you! Howwwww!? You tell me how! You tell me and I'll do it! How!!?

Chirag was too busy seeing the world go around him.

But Shetty wasn't done yet - "Do you see me wearing my underwear on top of my pants? How do I save you! How?!"

Chirag had landed on the platform by now, thankfully in the upright position. He managed to get up on his own, this time without Shetty's help. He saw Shetty coming down the stairs and stand next to him. Shetty was still seething, when Chirag casually went "Chill dude! Why are you being so over-dramatic?!". There was silence for about 2 seconds.

"Me!!?", Shetty asked in shock. Both of them burst out laughing at the same time after and it continued when they narrated the story to me later.

Could Shetty have saved Chirag? Could he have done more to protect his friend? Could he have shown a little more intent, especially during the second fall? Would Ankit and I have managed to save him, if we were there? Are we better friends to Chirag than Shetty is? I don't know, it's hard to say, but yes. I think so. 

Busted

I have an aversion to buses. This is my excuse.

This was probably around 2001-2002, if I remember correctly. I had taken the train to Thane from college on a day when it was raining cats and dogs. It was one of those days when you wonder if people around you are relieving themselves without hesitation, with the assurance that the rain gods would wash it away without anyone noticing. Oh that reminds me.... During our BSc, Shetty and Ankit had gone for a class trip to some hill stationesque place, which was supposed to be really beautiful, with waterfalls and the works. I couldn't join them for some reason, but that's besides the point. Apparently, the class came across a water tank under the fall, and understandably everyone decided to jump in. Shetty didn't, only to be at the receiving end of a lot of ridicule from Ankit. You know the kind - "What a loser you are Shetty! Why are you being so asocial, look how everyone has jumped in and having the time of their lives! I myself have dipped my head multiple times and its a lot of fun! You've got to come in and feel the water, really experience to know how it tastes! What a loser! You've got to let go sometimes!". Shetty tells me he didn't give in to the trash talk, but I have my doubts. I found out later from reliable sources that a girl from our class had relieved herself in the water tank - or in other words let herself go in a completely different context - in the same water that Ankit had felt, experienced, dipped into and to our amusement and his disgust - tasted.

Anyway, I digress. So I was at Thane train station where it was raining cats and dogs. Usually, I would take a share-rickshaw back home, which worked quite nicely. Of course, considering the demand for rickshaws that day, it was harder to find one than it is to wipe the huge grin on the newly-married-to-a-Gujarathi Chirag's face when you mention Narendra Modi. My back-up option of walking back home was also not an option that day, since that would mean a sure shot bout of pneumonia and would have only helped prove Shetty's theory then that bad things happen to people who make fun of others.

So I decided to hop on to the wretched bus. I don't know what it is about buses, I feel I am in an unfamiliar territory. I'm guessing its the same feeling that Gurmeet Ram Rahim Singhji Insaan would experience at any respectable film festival in the world, especially if the event is black-tie compulsory (See it, believe it). It was no surprise when I found the bus to be completely crowded with soaking wet individuals. The thing is, the moment you enter the bus, you are subject to the gaze of the people already in it, which you can do very little about. My eyes desperately looked for an empty seat and I was surprised to spot one on the very last row - a window seat at that! Why was it unoccupied I wondered, but didn't bother mulling over it too much. The stares were making me too uncomfortable so I pushed my way through to the last row. Trust me, it was hard work. My popularity quotient in the bus kept reducing drastically as I squeezed through to the empty seat on the last row, thanks to almost stepping on an old lady, almost groping a man when I lost balance, almost elbowing the conductor and almost accidentally falling on an obese man's lap. Please take note of the word 'almost'. My discomfort was on the rise, while my approval rating plummeted. Somehow, I made it to the window seat and realised soon enough why it was not claimed. The window I sat next to was one of those longer sliding ones, since it ran through the last and penultimate row. And the window was open, thus allowing the rain to gush in to the last seat. In fact, the window looked like it had never been closed since the bus was manufactured as a tribute to Mumtaz, along with the Taj Mahal. To add to my distress, I was now being viciously slapped by the rain. You will also be pleased to know that this meant my vision was heavily impaired, since I couldn't see a thing through my glasses. I couldn't risk trying to get out and sitting on our obese friend again. I had to do something. I had to close the window.

Through my compromised vision, I somehow found the window edge next to me and tried to push it right across to shut it. It didn't move, not even an inch. 'Come on!', I thought. Obviously, I had to be more aggressive with the window, almost ruthless, in the hope of saving myself from being water-boarded.  I gave it all I had this time and after a few seconds, the window gave in, when it suddenly overcame its inertia and slid with lightning speed to close with a huge thud. Phew! 'Well done Aditya, well done! Well rescued! No harm done to popularit.... Wait a minute!' The woman sitting right in front of me started yelling in a 'convulsing but not really' kind of way.

I was flummoxed! 'What in the world is going on?!' The yelling only got louder with each of her 'Hey's'. I started perspiring. Considering how drenched I was already, nobody could tell. Multiple questions took birth in my confused head - "What is going on?? Is she screaming at me?! What's with her head? Why is it positioned that way? And why is she yelling!? Is she in pain!? WHAT'S GOING ON!?"

I wiped my glasses frantically with my dripping wet shirt. That's when it dawned on me. She wasn't yelling "Hey!", she was trying to tell me her "hair!" was stuck in the window when I mercilessly shut it. She couldn't turn around because her head was brutally pulled towards the window and was ALSO stuck! All of this - because of me - the Gabbar of the bus - the Gabbus. So much for being uncomfortable with people's gaze - everyone was staring daggers at me - EVERYONE. This was bad. Damage control was needed - NOW.

I went to pull the window back to open it right away. One swift motion and this will be over. Remember though, pulling is a lot more difficult that pushing. I tried, as god is my witness, I tried! The window just wouldn't budge. The woman was still yelling. People were still staring. My hand slipping off the window because of everything being slippery did very little to help the situation.

"Can you PLEASE help me!?", I asked the middle aged man sitting next to me.

"Sure", he said while placing his questionably stain-ridden handkerchief on me, assuming that I needed help with drying my hands.

"Oh no no! NOO!! I meant could you help me pull the window please!?"

"Oh sure of course" he said to my short lived satisfaction, since he then proceeded to dry his hands with the aforementioned handkerchief and placed his hands on mine.

Both of us worked together for about 30 long seconds and finally pulled the window back open. The hair came undone. The lady looked back at me with disgust. Her eyes joined the rain in slapping me. I apologised. She scoffed while massaging her sore head, only to find some hair strands come off on her fingers.

I got off the bus at the next stop, still far away from home. Pneumonia could be risked. Of all the places I thought of being unpopular and detested, a bus was probably at the end of the list. Was there a tear in my eye? Well, thanks to Indra, the rain god, that is up for speculation!

I have an aversion to buses. This is my excuse.