OK dad! Lets paint the wall...

When I called home last week, my wife was taking our 3-year-old to task for having written all over the wall using his pencil. From her monologues however, I could understand that her corrective efforts were clearly falling on deaf ears. To ease tension in the atmosphere, I decided to do my bit to help my wife and asked to be put on speaker. Without realizing what the little fellow had been up to I tried to sound serious and said that if he continued his exercises on the wall like this, then we may soon have to paint it. Without batting an eyelid he quipped back "OK Dad! Let's paint the wall". I was not sure if this reply was an acknowledgement of parental authority or if it had been one of his many spontaneous ways of retaliation. It was at this moment that my wife came to my rescue and made me aware of my folly. It all became clear then.

While the admonishing was going on, our son had been playing with his box of water colours. The little rascal it seems, was now roguishly looking at the wall, holding a colour dipped brush in his hand and a mischievous wide smile on his face.

Being smart...

One day at work a colleague of mine lost a 'prized possession'. It seemed that it had been left unattended at her desk when somebody had quietly picked it up and casually walked away. On hearing the sad news, well-wishers from all over the floor started pouring in to offer their condolences, many with sympathy; some others with empathy, having earlier undergone a similar experience themselves under different circumstances.

The 'prized possession' turned out to be a smartphone she had bought 2 weeks ago - having gone through weeks of deliberation before placing her order, and having welcomed it with much fanfare on delivery. But right now she was clearly distraught and heartbroken and in front of those who came to share the grief, she did not try to conceal her feelings. Some of us decided to help on with the investigation and rallied a search party to scan the office floor while some others lost themselves in discussion of hypothetical scenarios of larceny trying to profile the suspect who had mysteriously eluded one and all.

No sooner the investigation had started than my mind got crowded with mixed feelings. On one hand was the thrill of being an investigator, while on the other was a feeling of despondency for being considered a suspect. I remembered Voltaire's quote that read: “Every man is guilty of all the good he didn't do”. And here was I, feeling a tad remorse for something which I didn’t do and, to add, could never get myself to do. If looked through an investigator’s eye we were all seated on the same floor, spread over an area around, but near, the scene of crime. Thus technically, everyone on the floor was a suspect. For reasons I could not comprehend yet, this technical thought comforted me more than the mixed feelings I described earlier. Apprehension prevailed on the floor though and everyone continued to look at everyone as if everyone felt everyone was a suspect!

Seconds became minutes, and the minutes in due time clocked an hour but the crusade was on. Since it had been a smartphone that went missing, some 'smart' colleagues who owned such phones themselves suggested use of ‘apps’ - application software installed on smartphone and other electronic devices and referred to as such henceforth - to detect and track any signals the 'lost soul' may have been emanating. But this effort was soon abandoned after it was discovered, albeit by another 'smart' colleague, that most security enabling apps have to be installed on the phone in the first place.

The flow of intelligent ideas soon started running dry and finally we were all at our wits end. The forlorn search party too was called off. With varied images of the victorious lifter in our minds, we finally decided to head back to our desks to complete our work and finish off what otherwise had been an uneventful day.

Moral of the story - Being smart may not necessarily mean you endorse a smartphone or you know the various trendy apps that go with it. Being smart is being utmost careful around yourself. Else you stand the chance of losing a small fortune. Luxury, for certain in the smartphone world, does not come cheap.

On another note, if you are born into riches or, as in this case, you think you are 'smart' enough and cannot survive another day without a smartphone only because you have got so used to it, you must bury your grief and move on (to the next one as in this case).

That’s precisely what my informed colleague did. Burying the distressing thoughts of her ephemeral association with the 'priced possession', she logged on to eBay and ordered another smartphone for herself the very next day!

Adorning parenthood...

We were blessed with a baby boy on 29th December, 2 days to New Year and 5 days ahead of schedule. My wifes' last visit to her gynaecologist had confirmed the d-day to be any time between the 1st and 3rd of January. I was in London and had planned to be with her by 29th Dec, to be the moral support my wife had come to expect of me. Of all the milestones I had managed this was one delivery I was going to miss. The British Airways Boeing 747 flight landed at Bangalore International Airport at 0700 hrs on 29th Dec. Outside the arrival gates, my driver welcomed me with a wide smile and a congratulatory message. My wife had given birth to a baby boy, while I had been on the flight.

For once in my life I was the most happiest, a little sad as well for having missed the big event.

Team work...

Before you start reproaching me for writing about incidents revolving around the London transport, I wish to let you know that according to the BBC website, an average London Commuter spends about 139 hours a year travelling to and from work. So here we go...

It was about noon time and I was on the Central line, heading from Bank towards Chancery Lane, my destination. The Central line is usually quite busy and fast (that is if the so infamous signal failures do not occur) and their stations stops do not tend to be of more than 20-30 seconds. The Central Line frequency usually at peak hours is about a train every minute or so and thus every second counts. A delay of a few extra seconds on any stop could choke up the entire length of the Central line from Epping all the way to West Ruislip. The train stopped at St. Pauls where a large group of about 10 people started to get in.

There was a big rush today and this vibrant group was trying hard to push themselves into the already crowded compartment, when the doors starting closing in. Realizing that some of his colleagues may not make it, one of the younger ones ones in the lot suddenly held up the doors blocking it from closing, while still trying to usher in as many of his remaining friends as possible. The train driver soon realized this was taking long, and announced on the speaker, requesting passengers to let go of the door. But the young group was defiant. Much to the amusement of their co-passengers, the group continued to valiantly fight out their battle against the helpless door. We could hear the female voice of the driver which kept on repeating "Please let go of the doors" on the speaker system, while the team continued to work hard. Soon only 3 or 4 of them were left outside.

After continued announcements, which went on for another minute or so, the driver perhaps giving in, finally announced. "Please let go of the doors. This is not the last train on earth!". There was a sudden hush followed by peals of laughter across the compartment. By this time the team work had paid off. All the members of the brigade had managed to squeeze in through the doors, the doors closed behind them, and the train moved on.

Thanks to the team effort, and some entertainment to the rest of us, we were all on our way to our respective destinations...

Unexpected gain...

I was waiting for the bus at West Croydon station when I saw a piece of paper on the floor, which looked like a currency note from afar. With some hesitation, I slowly walked down the aisle to where my object of attention lay, peacefully. A closer look revealed that it was a derelict Ten Pound note. I was curious as this certainly was not usual. Inspecting the surrounding with "eagle eyes" I wondered if someone was trying to pull a prank on me, or if this indeed had been a mistake. Mustering up some courage I stooped, picked up the tenor and stood still, waiting for some sadist freak to come out of from hiding and pounce on me, claiming his or her victim. Nothing of that sort happened which convinced me that the money had indeed been dropped unknowingly by some careless creature, or possibly by a poor, unlucky soul.

But by now, I realized, I was in a dilemma. In my heart, I had no intention of spending this find of mine on myself and thus started wondering on how to put it to best use. Strong intentions to use the Unexpected Gain for a genuine and noble cause ruled out donations to the Church or to almsmen. You do not get to see donation boxes outside Churches here and I always staunchly discourage begging. With no luck with ideas and the bus approaching, I folded the note and deposited it safely in my purse. Leaving behind those charitable thoughts at the bus station, I boarded my bus and soon forgot about the whole affair.

I forgot about the little incident completely until that day. On way to my client location, I usually come across this blind man at Chancery Lane underground station. As you make your way out, one could see him standing near the base of the escalator most of the days, whistling out enthusiastically. He would put in a lot of effort, gasping for breath at times, but always bringing out the best of tunes which were no less than appealingly melodious. I used to find him absolutely astonishing at his work, and to confess, overwhelming. At times I also managed to drop in some spare change into his little basket which he kept on the ground, holding it in place using his white cane.

That day I was in a hurry, already late for my afternoon meeting, when I walked past the blind man at Chancery Lane. Suddenly something dawned on me and I stopped, as if hit by lightening. The noble cause I had been searching for all the while was there, right in front of me, staring at my face, whistling away. But it had never occurred to me. This was indeed something special, something I had always wanted to do. Without much ado, opening my purse I searched for the ten pound note only to find it untouched and neatly tucked in one corner. I took it out and walked towards the blind man. John (his name shown on the tag hanging around his neck) was whistling away with his usual elan entertaining the London commuters, most of them taking little notice of him. I did not feel like leaving the money in his basket and thus touched his hand softly. He stopped whistling and gazed around blankly, which made me realize that my unannounced gesture had startled him. I quickly placed the ten pound note into the palm of his hand and turned to leave, when he softly said "Thank you", realizing that someone had placed money in his hands. By this time I could feel tears swell up my eyes. Slowly leaving Johns' side, I headed for the escalator. I was "bountily" happy and proud of the noble cause well achieved, and just could not wait to tell this to someone. I called my wife and told her how happy I was today, rejoicing at the thought that my Unexpected Gain could bring a little happiness in someones' life.

By the time I reached the top of the escalator I could hear John ardently whistling off a new tune, perhaps dedicated to his anonymous giver...