Don't know what you got till it's gone

Do you know how when you are doing one of the most mundane things, a random friend from the past flash through your thoughts and leaves a smile on your face? That’s how I thought of D, a friend with whom I went to school and graduate college with, as I was combing my hair today. I don’t remember exactly what made me think of him, I think it was one of his comments on how my fashionably cut short hair (hey, boy cut was quite fashionable at that time, and yes, they used to call it that, then) was like “chatti kamathivachapole”*.

We became friends at a stage when I was quite awkward around boys and I was just getting used to having a easy friendship with them without any boy-girl thing interfering. And, there he was, all ready. It was during the time after school; we had just started college and it was great having a boy as a trusted friend, a confidante. It was much later that I realised they can’t always be trusted as a species and he was an exception. I really don’t remember how we became close friends or how we started; but I remember we used to talk over the phone almost every day after college and my parents who used to police most boys who called, didn’t even think twice that this boy was calling up every other day (the phone bills were a different matter altogether).

I knew all about his crushes and about the first time he got drunk and I almost told him about my big crush then, who is now my husband. I didn’t, but I guess he knew and just chose not tease us like most of my other friends did. He was the only guy whom I wouldn’t mind complimenting my dress and commenting that it would look good on the girl who was his crush at that point. I could call him and cry when people were mean to me and man, did he take care of it! He trusted me when even my closest friends had doubts. He was like a big brother, little brother and a friend all rolled into one!

Sadly, all good things come to an end and in this case we slowly drifted apart. We never stopped being friends and similar to how we started, I don’t remember how our ‘closeness’ ended. It was a beautiful friendship while it lasted, but alas, I lost it at an age when I did not have the maturity to realise the importance of such relationships.

Though I am still in touch, thanks to facebook and other technologies, the relationship cannot be the same anymore. He has grown up and changed and I don’t know the new him. I have changed too and I doubt he would know me now as he used to. Still, I treasure the relationship we had at a crucial age and cannot think of the boy I once knew with nothing but fondness!

D, I doubt you would ever read this, but if you do and recognize it is you, I would know I was as important to you as you were to me!

*Like an inverted pot

Art of Haggling

If you have ever lived in Chennai, you must have surely travelled in an Auto rickshaw at least once - unless you are an extremely rich dude/chick with a fleet of cars at your disposal. Not that you are missing anything, but you can try this once for an adventure ride or something, when you don’t have the time to fly to Disneyland.

Now, if you need to survive the daily travel in the said vehicle either you need to have Zen like patience or have skin as thick as an Elephant or Rhinoceros or whichever animal it is that has the thickest skin. Since I possess neither, I have accepted it must be my life’s objective to give away half of my earnings to the Chennai Rickshaw guys. According to these men, 90% of the roads in Chennai are ‘one-way’ roads and there is heavy traffic on the roads at all times, even at 5 am on a Sunday morning.

This got me wondering whether many of the country’s problems may be resolved if we can get these men to do our dealings. Imagine our Chennai Velu with one of the Ambanis while they are negotiating:

“Gas price has gone up”

“The deal said $2.34”

“No, due to the naval technicalities the gas from Bay of Bengal has to routed through the Arabian Sea so it will cost minimum $15”

“The deal said $2.34”

“You can either take this now at this table or the government will come in claiming the gas to be theirs and you won’t get any”

“OK, but $15 is too much I can pay maximum of $5, or let us take it to the court”

“OK, Deal! $5 it is!”

I think I might have stumbled upon an excellent idea to make money – start an Auto Rickshaw Driver’s Management school (It can be called as Muthuswamy Manickavaasagam School of Haggling Management or some such name) to train the diplomats and others the professional art of haggling! Now that would be one successful bunch of people, I say!