Red Phoenix Harley

Lost in translation, I waited patiently outside the door searching for the lost spark. And there, at the distance I see, flanked at both sides with a Nissan Altima and a Mushtang was an old man on a red Harley. He looks inside the hood of both the cars and smirked, as if he’d just looked inside their normal skulls instead of their hoods. As the Mushtang revved up at first gear, once the driver saw, red hitting on the perpendicular light, the ‘Nam veteran just waited patiently. Whilst the mind war was going cold at that instant of 2 seconds, the Nissan guy being smart rather than a coward, gave up without a fight just to save his dignity. Green it was, and a lion’s roar scored loud from the Harley and the veteran’s head scarf just flew of momentum like the sword of the closed Samurai. The Mushtang just couldn’t keep up with the Harley and lost all self respect of its V6.

Seconds later, I dreamt of owning a Harley in the future, and of course I was wearing the usual formals going to the Univ as the ‘Harley Proff’. ‘Dream on’ I told to myself and soon got back to my day dreaming. I don’t know how long I was dreaming, but several minutes later, the Harley veteran came to the door step. I noticed that he had one leg shorter than his other, from his padded right shoe. A friendly tweak of self appreciation was all I had to use and there he was narrating his experience in ‘Nam. With all the interesting stories of valor in sparkling English, turning out to be the spark, temptation crept to my tongue and I asked, ‘What’s the price of ur Harley?’ and even before I can shut my mouth, I blurted, ‘Can I try it?’ The next second seemed like eons to me.

A gentle smirk, as if he was thinking, “U Desi’s……” and then he replied, ‘No you can’t try it….’ Well, though the answer was obvious, I felt a li’l depressed of the lost opportunity, and he continued, ‘It’s 35 grand. But I’ll sell it for 70 grand coz I built it with my own hands. That’s my job. And again, No you can’t try it’. The denial repeated, felt like a slap. Anger reddened in my face and my mind spat ‘Why the hell didn’t he fight in Hamburg Hill and die?’ Guess I reddened so immense, that this guy with his limping short feet backed off, both hands waving as if pushing the air between us and said, ‘WOHH son! Don’t give me that face. Here, if you insist on it, here’s the key. Just make sure you don’t end up dropping it’ and he offered me his keys. Hell Dumbstruck was I. What else would you do? I was awed by his guts in giving his 35 grand self built, baby, into the hands of a total stranger, half his age, zero experience on Harleys and who moments ago thought he was dead.

Took me moments to realize that I wasn’t dreaming and I did in fact have an opportunity to try a Harley. Gone were the days of Bullet and Rajdhoot. A face filled with a child’s happiness, I took the keys, and then with the broadest smile of gratitude, I asked, ‘U sure?’ He just nodded just making the situation much more affable instead of speaking the affirmation. As I walked to the Red and Fiery Harley, I was in a situation where a million questions started running into my mind. The most important was, ‘Man, this is no OCC on TV. This is real. Can I balance, the wide front shocks? What if I drop it?’ But the body had its own mind and I managed to lift my right leg, and throw it overboard the leather cushion and the perspective I got from that seat is simply engraving. A full scan of the handsome beast, and finally confirming its glory, I managed to kick start Mr. Ableson and ‘Ah!!! What a feeling’, as I revved up the engine. All my 24 years of glorious self confidence felt like dirt in front of its thunder.

A feel of the clutch and the click of first gear (more of the gun sound you get in movies), and a slow start, made me believe that I was actually driving a Harley. Slowly I lifted both my feet off the ground and shifted to second gear and with full admiration of the vehicle, I roared 10 feet. It is not even close to difficulty level 1 in balancing the bike. It wasn’t heavy, and it was immensely satisfying. With at most respect for the veteran who offered me a try on his baby, I slowed the beast to a stop and slanted it to its parking stand. He never asked me, ‘why I stopped so soon or was I feeling scared?’ He just smiled as if he understood me, and came towards me. He patted my back with his shaky leather cut-gloved hands, smiled again, and as I got down it with full gratitude, he just heaved his heavy left foot over it from the other side and then wore his cap. From its looks, it was as if he was a pilot rather than a private. But it ain’t time to be judgmental about his position in war. Once more, he revved, looked at me and smiled and roared back on the road. His scarf once again looked like the sword of the closed Samurai. I asked for a spark and he gave me fire. I thought heroes are only in movies. But it wasn’t the case today. I did feel like meeting a true hero. Like a kid I say, ‘He was my hero’. As I watched him leave, I noticed his number plate and it had the words ‘PHOENIX’ as the city name. “A RED Harley from PHOENIX”. What else can I say????? (The next time I see him and get a ride. I'll definitely take a pic of me on teh phoenix and shall upload it. And the Harley in the pic was exactly how it looked)

Sensitive Running

It was 4:15 in the morning, when my roommate found out that the Walmart in Sir Barton Way had sensors which activated lights in the shelves kept on the frozen food aisle. I just looked at him, and thought 'If not now, then when?' As the ESP always worked between me and my shorty friend, we both looked around, confirmed that we were the only people inside the store and smiled at each other. 'In 3. 3 2 1....' and chap chap chap chap..... panting for air, we were standing on the other end of the frozen food section. As Forrest Gump does, we had no reason to run. Actually we did - the reason was to make the sensors work and light up our path. We ran in an instant, without any prior committment or notification, that the act freaked out our other funny roomie. We laughed at his shaken up comments and then went to chill him out. As any other shopping day, we ended up spending too much time having fun and ended up buying stuff for $10. We owned the whole store yesterday night.

Ten seconds before sunrise

Words can't describe what I felt when I listened to Ten Seconds Before Sunrise moments ago. I am not a big time fan of DJ music, but this one, ignited bliss in me as I walked by towards my lab. It is impossible for a person to listen to every microsecond and detail of music, when he walks in traffic, especially a 'people watcher' like me. This one, WOW!!! made me raise my hands as I reached the department stairs hoping for the sun to really rise. Please listen to this bit using your earphones at the near loud level. The best music to forget everything happening in your brain.

Paper marks to the rescue

With the weekend all placed in answers I've long searched for, the last paragraph of my research paper had to wait till the usual last moment. With the new resolutions kicking good in the 10 days I'd been following, I had an opportunity to prove one more time that I don't care what other think about me.

My newly habituated 'Can we go out Hari?' and 'What's your schedule today Hari?' roomies getting well addicted in going out every now and then, I decided to hit Steak n Shake as we all wished for. 'Steak n Shake' N my paper in 'Stake and me in Shake' I decided not to mind about others, and so took my 'ever hot' laptop along with me. Yes, I did take my journals too. With 'Steak n Shake closed' we decided to hit the nearby waffle house. A bowl of 'Waltz soup' on one side, a bunch of journals on the other and the laptop on the side, it was all fun listening to my friends philosophical talk on grits, and me thinking of NIPAAm behavior (a polymer am working on). I didn't care what the other customers were staring at. Thanks to Sam - the cook, Jimmy Buffet was scoring good on my list of things happening the moment.

I was happy that I took the gamble and proved one more time, that I am not the person who forgets about my life, and cares just about others. The other times I proved them and still managed to hold on strong to my resolutions where, when I quit on free Starbucks coffee thrice in the week, that too with my new close friend cum sister, 4 opportunities of iHOP syrup - never even touched 'em, quitting on tea offered twice at my friends place and of course, giving clues about my friends true strength, instead of just advicing them what to do and then making them realize their true potential.

Believe me or not, my way of messing up articles I read, had indeed helped me do good in writing my paper. All my 'read articles' are marked in 2 different colors indicating the importance of the lines, marking every marked zone with key words like '4 my paper' 'use for thesis' 'concept' 'data for future reference' 'awesome idea' 'mimic if failed' etc really made me laugh and also organize well for my paper. I have never been the guy who keeps my textbook neat. I always, right from my childhood have scribbled on my textbooks, underlined words or sentences and even torn edges of papers or folded them indicating their importance. I am very happy that I am not as 'neat and organized' as my mother and am happy that I am still organized on my own way. I did throw up this one as yet another reason to prove my mom that I was taken from a trashbin and not born in her womb - Always liked to do this joke on my mom and we laugh on it. How psychotic can I be??? :D

Puddle Pedal

Was it because of the fact that I watched Rush Hour 3 yesterday or was it the tiredness I gained over a period of ‘hardly working’ days or was it the cholay batura I had, at my PhD qualified friend’s place, that I decided to bid my goodbyes even before the clock struck 1 am, is a question even I can’t answer. With the heavens pouring with a cold heart, luckily I stuck on to my one and only orange coat which was water proof of all the winter attire. As I stepped out of the ‘F’un block, my glasses were spotted with the showers in an instant. The temperature too dropped in a couple of hours by at least 5 degree Celsius (still I prefer Celsius to Fahrenheit even in US).

First of all, I was lazy enough to even think about climbing 3 floors, disturbing the introduction of Chris Tucker in the movie and the usual jumps of the stairs. But this was not the only reason I decided to go in the rain. The secondary thoughts were much more ‘enticing’. I had my roomies bicycle, I had a cap, I had a hood in my orange coat, it was water proof, of course it was raining heavily, the weather though cold, wasn’t low enough to freeze me to death and finally I had ‘a raincoat’. Take that ‘huh?’ look of your face. Being a Chennaite, where showers are rare to see and if they come, there is always a schedule in the way it pours. Be it school time or play time, it never showers and so my dad (being the mystic reader of rains), never bought me an umbrella or a raincoat. Seriously saying, back in the good ol’ days, raincoats were considered to be a fashionable cool attire by most teenagers.

Having all the ingredients to get drenched in rain (and still stay healthy), I just picked the bicycle and started cycling fast. Water splashed all over my jeans, glasses fogged with the cold, even my socks got wet and thanks to the ‘mudguardless’ cycles here in the US, the rear of my coat was splattered with rainwater. Instead of quitting the pace, I raced towards my house and slowly started drifting in the longer direction. Never missed a puddle of water and it was fun. Brakes were slipping, wheels skidding and the sky pouring; my sleeps all gone and am still thinking of hitting the sack….. Pedaling in puddles has got a ‘check mark’ at its side.

Carrots to the rescue

Yet another day, where inspite of being organized and following a particular schedule, I ended up sitting in my room thinking of how to finish my work. 'Not another night out' was the first thing that ran into my restless mind. Recently I'd been having a tough time remembering stuff about, me getting up and switching the alarm, talking to my friends 2 hours into sleep (how come u guys always call me exactly when I go to sleep? I don't even have a particular sleep schedule and how can you find the exact time I sleep?), or even attending my parents phone call. Well with all this in mind, I wasn't feeling comfortable in trying to risk another short nap before the night out. Extremely hit with the soporofic wave, I had no other option but to go on the psychological motivation. With coffee, sugar and a few more, sitting deers on the list of 'Don'ts this year' I was a lil perplexed with what would help me stay awake all night. Well, as any confused houser would do, I checked the refrigerator. The arched back took its role and with heavy eyes I noticed a pack of carrots. Great!!!! (Excitement: increased the chance of staying awake for another 1 hr).

A bite, a sip of juice and once an hr peep at the parking lot (the cold does keep me stay awake), had me running all active. One more paragraph to finish and 'nada' - bugs bunny deprived of food..... Just realized, it that I ran out of carrots and the next thing I remembered was 'It's 9 am? When did I sleep? Mom called at 6 and I answered it (checked my phone log)!!! What did we talk about? When did my roomies get up? What the f***!!!!!!!' Guess am blacking out before and during sleep (hehehehehe... Strange way to say that I black out when I sleep). I just wished that my advisor had called me earlier today.

Strange that, whatever bad state I'm at while sleeping (dead sometimes), just seconds into the specially designed ringtone I get when my advisor calls, I bolt out of my bed and respond to his call with so much poise that on a scale of 1-10 (10 being the most active) I would score a perfect 20. Once I'm done with the call, I'm still at scale 20 and WOW, it does amaze me. Am changing my alarm ringtone to my advisors ringtone..... Well me back to writing my paper.... Times up!

Shadow Sneaker

It's nearly 3 months that I've started walking back to school instead of riding 'WW 6' (coz I've been deprived of a bike by the school being a regular customer). Walking has literally brought a new face into my multitude of perception about the world.

In the past 2 weeks I've noticed that involuntarily, my eyes go down to the concrete, whenever I cross a person (walking in the same direction). Initially I thought I was shy (Seesh! How can I even imagine that I was shy?), but today, I found the real reason behind my action. My eyes are always focussed on the shadow of the person am crossing and my feet with its own mind, sneaks sideways to avoid it. Guess am a shadow sneaker. Nights are the best to see me going crazy, coz there are at least 2 different lights shadowing at the same time, and jumping in front of a crosser doesn't put me in the category of 'Normal'. I see a natural ability (or should I say agility) in gracing out of the shadows in seconds.

PS I also noticed that at nights I skip head light trails of cars coming opposite of me, by making longer and faster steps as the light crosses me. I know am a really really deeply retarded crazy guy. But as long as I don't break anyone or self or any rules, I'm fine with it.