Don't panic.

Don't panic. There's Sherlock Holmes! I work at a place where people come with the hope of finding many times things that they have lost: speech, motor functioning, neurons and/or their mind! Sometimes all of the above. I lost my cell phone to one of the 'seekers' who came to have his son's mind back. Considering that finding 'cell phones' is not on the above mentioned list, I had to go to a place which did find mundane un-exotic things like that. The police station beside the work-place.

The complaint written out and the FIR filed. There's Sherlock Holmes who was waiting in the wings. Enter Sherlock Holmes. "Do you have enemies?" (My phone was kidnapped- was the line of investigation being pursued I suppose- and no, no ransom calls were made!). Sherlock Holmes called back after two months of some highly purposeful line of enquiry

Sherlock Holmes: "We have found your cell phone! Are you alone? Dont panic" (Was this the ransom call?)

CC:"Hmm.. have you recovered it?"

Sherlock Holmes: "Madam your cell phone is in your house only- your Mom was playing a prak I think! She is using it".

CC: "I think you've got it wrong. My cell phone was taken from my work place. My mom is certainly not using it! Have you been able to trace the calls?"

Sherlock Holmes: "Oh no! The person is very clever he has not turned on the cell phone only. We told you maybe it was your mother so you would feel you left it at home.We wanted to make you feel happy that we solved the case!".

Elementary dear Watson, but what line of reasoning, or what curve of reasoning was Sherlock Holmes following- trying to do the "knowing where one's towel is"? Perhaps, there's a reason that the police station was located in close proximity to the institute of lost minds?

Family Matters

Scene: Bee returns to an empty home( that is being renovated)from work after a long day. Feet propped up against the day bed with his laptop trying to finish up some work (or so he claims). Door bell rings. Stirs, annoyed he opens the door. Two men standing outside with a.

Man 1: "Sir ye bed deliver karna tha. Deeri hogaya"

Man 2: Stares

Bee (Points to the room where the bed is to be placed) "Waha raklena" Irritable goes back to working on the comp.

Man 1 and Man 2 place the bed and stand beside the main door discussing something with great seriousness and looking at Bee. Man 2 urges Man 1 who finally hesitantly come to Bee and says

"Sir kuch chai pani dena" (Meaning give me some bakshisk/ tip).

Bee (who is always gnerous, but not too good with hindi and implicit meanings in the language)annoyed at having gotten home late and tired misses the implicit meaning and with sarcasim dripping says " Aree mai ghar mei akela hu, kya mai jakar thu logo ke liya chaai bana du?"

Man 1 is stunned. Man 2 steps in "Sorry sir. Good night" and run away.

Scene :Pizza is watching the tele. There is a break and ads start up. The owner of Country Club flashes on the tube (since he believes in starring in all his adds- which pizza didn't know!). He grins and says some "countrt club wabi blabi klabi Dubai" (county club opens in Dubai or some such thing).

Pizza is astounded. "Where do they get fellows that look like that? And why do they make them star in ads?!"

Well Pizza "wabi blabi" cause he's the star!

Bee goes to the dentist and is worse for it. He's home and he realizes that the session hasn't gone too well considering post the filling his tongue is bleeding owing to his problem tooth having become sharp? Or the filling come off? In agony he telephones the dentist. He is greeted by the receptionist (who is more interested in painting her nails as opposed to taking down appointments). Bee says "Hello, I just met the Doctor. I think the filling's come off I need to come by because my tooth is cutting m tongue. It's bleeding and it hurts".

Receptionist with profound advice "Ayo, you just don't eat with that side. Don't talk.Yella ok then tension yake?"

Edward Scissor Hands

I decide to get my hair trimmed (note trimmed). The lady who deals with the tresses has quit. I decide to try "Habeebs" on the recommendation of a particular someone I accidently tried to poision (with coffee!). I walk in. Everyone seems rather unoccupied. Ouch! Maybe it's not such a good idea- but it's pouring cats and dogs outside. Hence, the decision to have the tresses trimmed. Bad decision- I figure in retrospect!

Male with pink lips, effiminate mannerisms and a blond streaked hair do (which was far from inspiring confidence or style or anything positive) is to be my hair dresser. I repeatedly tell the chap ('cuase I'm wondering if he comprehends English- most hair dressers don't) that I just want a half inch trim (also 'cause I don't want my head looking even vaguely like his). Plus, I did'nt trust his sense of "style"! He mumbles something and smiles with exaggerated flourish! He's done in about half an hour. Voila! He's chopped off over 12 inches in jagged patterns to resemble what my grandmom would have reffered to as "ili thindhange" (rat eaten). I glare daggers. He smiles with all his pearly whites. I want to remove them and put them in his palm for him to count! " Whats wrong with you? I said half an inch trim! Which part of it did you not understand?" He's still smiling now looking like a weasel- moron "Madam it became a little short! What to do?" "You crazy person it's over eleven and a half inches short"(His math was even worse than mine!) " But madam, a haircut and a trim cost the same!" Your's truely is generally a very peace loving creature but at that moment all I wanted to do was poke him in the eyes and say " You see luv, this is what they call shooting daggers!"

The Zoo -School

The Valley (a school I moved to in fourth grade) was more of a zoo than a school! It housed a panther (or two), scorpions, snakes, mongoose, monkeys, wild boars a wide variety of birds (I even saw a bird of paradise once) a whole lot of birdbrains and of course strange kids including us! A geography teacher whose idea of teaching us about sedimentary rocks was to make us watch "Cliff Hanger" with her in the theater! A chalk chewing history teacher!A games teacher who used to wear a great neon green stone ring and threaten kids including your's truely with "Shut it your muth before I cut it your pants and make it your shorts"! A math teacher who sang more than he taught! A stoned sociology teacher who attended classes (rather taught- I liked her) in absentia. There were of course several strange creatures such as Sam (he was from Amrika) who taught us or rather attempted to teach us topography. I have a vivid memory of him since he always smelt of dog powder and he believed we were all so poverty striken in India that we couldn't afford paper or pencils (plus his head was always dirty!)! Weird! We also had shoe flinging kids (belonging to teachers) who would run into class and casually fling some footware into the class maybe trying to distract the class little knowing there was hardly anything he was doing for there was no class and we were distracted to begin with!

I guess kannada classes were the most fun- for several reasons. We got to sit cross legged on the floor and place the hard bound kannada text on the low table and doze behind it's hard bind to the background of "Chinte matu etra kathegalu or Kanyakumari matu itra kataglu"!If Babbu caught you dozing which he did once all hell would break loose with "An maduta iddiya? Nenge gotta nanu tumba freocious agbid thene!" Well he did have reason considering once the dust bin we placed on the door unintentionally fell on his head when he walked in instead of our intended target! Considering all things Babbu was a kind soul- with not a bit of fierceness in him!

Us zoo animals were given a regular diet of ragi malt at 10.00 am, lunch consisted of apparently vegetarian food which included dishes like bolt garnished upma, papad fried with a spider, cockroach flavoured buttermilk etc and snacks (in the similar range) and the director (a true speciman) believed coke was unhealthy (but grass was not????) and took it upon himself to help us "grow" (in twisted ways?) by taking "culture" class (what culture meant to him he still has'nt been able to convey) and how one should "not" make money yada, yada! We leared that people differ(and how!), learned to grow in harmony if nothing else ! And think of strange things as not so strange!

We Dreamed of Africa

The Asoka pillar at the center of the assembly area was also the center stage for much of our six and a half year olds play activities. Perhaps it made us seem the center of the universe. To six somethings the universe is pretty small. It was around the pillar that several things revolved. That’s where Supriya (I wonder what happened to her?) tied her five year old brother’s hands when Sow and I were playing (the fool apart from simply running around and trying to catch each other). “Supriya why ya (“ya” was in our vocabulary an extremely hip term then!) you’re tying his hands?” Engrossed in tying his hands with a blue checked handkerchief she responds wiith a profundity that baffled me then (and even now). “He (what his name was eludes my memory) is very naughty. I don’t want him to run about ya, so I’m tying his hands because if I tie his legs together he’ll open it no- so only I’m tying his hands!”

Another sunny afternoon it was my turn to give profound answers. Sow and I were playing some vague game around the Asoka pillar. Green has always been one of my favorite colours. The cactus by virtue of it being green must have inspired some totally random neuro chemical reactions causing a short circuit in my already hyperactive brain. A reaction that was most often contagious. A plan is hatched. Sow and I all of six years are transported to some African desert (I’m certain we imagined a name- we were full of particulars and it was always all about the details) dying of thirst. (Our imaginations would not have let imagine that we would be dying of hunger considering we used to find eating an ordeal and had a truly “good” friend Neetha throw our tiffen/ and lunch into the next door quary- an activity code named “dabdab"! Or she could eat it if she wanted!). Anyway, we’re broken out of our spell by Sr Stanisless (who I fondly in my speech constantly called “Stainless steel” without any malice- only it seemed to me simpler to simplify what I thought was a mistake in how she referred to herself!) “Girls what do you think you’re doing?” Matter of factly or trying to include her (foolishly) in our make believe play I say boldly “We are in Africa. There is no water. Sister we are thirsty”. Kindly she says “You can carry a bottle of water into the desert children. Stop eating my cacti!” Having devoured between the two of us a large part of a fleshy non thorny cactus, sour faced we look up “Sister Stainless steel but we are in Africa! Are you thirsty too?”

Blue Bin Burning

This is a story (real) of a long, long time ago. There were two six and a half- seven year old kids waiting for their parents to come back from the PTA meeting. The teachers had for some reason decked up the assembly area with diyas. We were tired of waiting and perhaps of the slide and the swing and all the other entertainment the school had provided to keep us occupied. We walk back into our class room (STD I) which was left unlocked for some reason again! (If you look back at all the “some reasons” the universe was conspiring to create mischief!).

We wander around class aimlessly, draw pictures on the black board- attention is short and we look for something else to do. One of us brings in a lit diya (for some reason which will soon reveal itself to our minds!). Sow and I are wondering what to do next. Voila! A plan reveals itself in the form of a full overflowing blue plastic dustbin. Sow looks at it and says “Hey, there’s so much paper we can clean it. Lets burn it”. To me it sounded like a plan but there was the fact that plastic burns which I mentioned to her. They had taught us that at school (well they had also taught us that we shouldn’t play with fire –yes, yes, I guess I forgot that part and so did she!). “No, ya, my mom burns things in the dustbin nothing happens” “But maybe your dust bin is metal?” “No ya, it’s plastic only” “Sow it’ll burn and melt”. “No nothing will happen” “I’m telling you I’m right, it’ll burn”. “No it won’t” “Ok. Lets burn it and see”. Two geniuses and what do you think happens next? The fear of Sr. Rosemary (our grade I teacher) didn’t make it to our hearts before we carefully lit a sheet each and threw it into the blue plastic bin! Well, look at it this way- it was just a scientific experiment!

The paper burned and with it the blue bin. Were we afraid? “Sow, I was right” “Ya, but how does my mom do it? It doesn’t burn at home”. We watch the blue blob oozing and curling. It hits us. Oops we better get another dustbin before Sr Rosemary finds out. We decide to replace it with another dustbin from another class. Determined we go in search of another blue dust bin. Not to burn this time. Were we afraid? I don’t remember do you Sow? I don’t remember if our search for a blue dust bin was exhaustive. Our parents came and we went home without having replaced it.

Sr Rosemary comes in the next day and is (as expected) shocked and annoyed looking at the remains of the dust bin. Blob of blue. “Children which one of you has done this?” she asks. No response. “Class leaders ask who has done this?” One girl with a short crop another in pigtails stands up. That’s us. Ironic. No, we’re not standing up to say yes it was us- now fear of Sr Rosemary has gained roots in our small scared little faint hearts. We ask “Who did this?” We did put money from our “dumb box” (why was it not called money box?) to buy a brand new blue dustbin rather than gooseberry and mangoes coated with filthy masala and lollypop. A feeble attempt of saving our souls!

That was a long time ago. A few weeks ago my friend got married. I was introduced to her husband with the story. We laugh. (We do that quite a lot actually!) She says “But you know, I’m sure my mom burnt things in the bin”. “Sow, maybe it was a metal one”. “Or maybe she put off the match before she threw it into the bin?!”