Game of charades in our own land...

I was at one of those convocation ceremonies and the guest of honour had grabbed the mike, viewing it with love paralleled by only the mother who eyes her lost child from kumbh ka mela after 14-15 years .....India a land of variety...unity in diversity..he shouted at the top of his voice and with gusto..Though my ears were sincerely  making the efforts of catching any of his voice, my mind was transported back to the school days, where i would stand "height wise and class wise and division wise and gender wise", with my hair tamed by ribbons and pins ,thanks to the painful efforts of my ma who converted it from a mess sticking in all four directions from my head to a presentable pig tail :). The pledge and national anthem would be recited where the diversity of India would be praised and taken pride in:)

Courtesy my job in IT, i got the opportunity to experience this in the most vivid of its forms...
It was right after graduation when the the most awaited and anticipated "call letter" arrived from my maiden
company. It said that the training would be Calcutta..err..Kolkata and posting thereafter according to the project that is allocated..I read it a bit too many times to get in sync with my "thodese hasu and thodese ansu" types feelings. If at all i had any doubts about going there, a stern "stop being a baby and go" look from dad silenced all my doubts and doubtlets...

Once in Kolkata, the land that i tag "knows hindi", the training months flew by and it was time for the project
allocations. It was bit of an anticipated news that i was posted in Chennai :) ....Filled with the typical zeal of a tourist, i set out to explore this land of rice and sambar :)

Luckily one of old roommate had already set foot in this southern india capital and i encountered a gloomy faced her pouring out dark horror stories of the new land where we were posted (read trapped) in...
We were north Indians there...and me being from Maharashtra..a.k.a. pure unadulterated west india ,jeopardised the very theory of geographical directions that was taught to me...It is one of the many many annoying habits of Indians...everywhere i go...i am "some" Indian..not just an Indian and beware that even the people  treat you according to the "some" attached to your new identity :)

Our hunt for an accomodation was in full swing lest we would be kicked out of the company guest house after the due date...Getting directions in an unknown land where one does not speak the native and even hunger is indicated by the nomadic hand in mouth gesture, i purposefully stayed away from the swiping my hand over my tummy as it may mislead that i am full...if anybody is alien to the game of charades, let me give u a brief overview. It is similar to dumsheraj and you just have to convey a "phrase"instead a picture's name :)

Now that the basics have been cleared...i am going to take you to a setting where my friend is setting out to meet me at the guest house where i was staying..first choice for the mode of transport was a bus...but this noble friend of mine was not to get aboard any bus that did not have AC in it..so when 5 buses passed with ppl hanging at odd angles and perspiring providing a huge market for a deo salesperson, she decided that buses were far beyond consideration and a letter to the local corporation to increase th number of AC buses in this hot boiling sun for beauties like her was far overdue.

Next mode of transport was a rickshaw...after many passed, a rickety old rickshaw stopped and the driver flashed a single toothed smile...now now my friend is a kind hearted gal but when a gutkha chewing old man flashes his red stained teeth along with a whoosh of gutkha breath, the basic instinct of kindness is repulsed strongly and an exclamation of "eeeurghh" is bound to escape this poor girl's mouth..
However the driver perhaps had gone beyond this worldy expression of disgust and without getting deterred asked where my friend wanted to by waving his hand in an enquirung fashion...With suspicion filled eyes she started to tell the name of her destination.."pal..pal...pal....palam...plum....plani", she looked at him with imploring eyes coz for the love of god she could pronounce it...
The driver, a kind soul said in a sorrwoful tone, "amma, pallikarnai?"...My friend's face lit with gratitude thanked him and made a mental note not to judge a person just because he was a gutkha chewing disgusting and filthy looking man...
"amma, 100 Rs. no less". Murder filled my friend's heart, all she wanted to do was rip out the last hanging tooth his mouth..and told him to go eat gutkha with a wave of her hand....The driver without any more haggling set out a leisure pace for his next gutkha breath victim ...

The only option was the walking..."What the hell...Why not"...My friend set out bravely. It was 4 p.m.
She asked only ladies decked with gajras and whole lot assortments from the garden...she felt somehow these
flowered ladies would reduce her agony and give correct directions...but none seemed to have a clue. Civility met with civility but no knowledge...Disheartened, she scanned the road up and down, but it seem pretty deserted leave for a humble worker sewing his chappal...With no other option at hand, she decided to give it a shot..
This is how the "conversation" went off...
Damsel in distress: Anna, pal...palli...palampur...err...pallikaran!!
Man sewing chappal : Amma..
With a thoughtfulness that would given any scientist a run for their money, he gestured to take a left, then right
and then again a left...and he muttered weakly "100 metres"...
An expert in gestures by now my friend caught the directions and the 100 metres with a traveller hearing about an oasis in a desert :)...She started in exuberance and a humming a tune with a light heart, inwardly congratulating herself for not being fooled by the rick driver ....
10 metres....50 metres..1 kilometer, there was no sign of any guest house nor any civilization...She asked a sole passerby whether pallikarnai was about 100 metres away, he rolled an enraged eye at her and looked
skywards requesting the almighty to help this poor clueless soul...He signed her to go back and take a rick than keep walking..but my friend was determined to rely on her 2 tired feet....
She continued walking till what she claims to be about 6 kms and more and i did not dare to analyze and argue with her on this sensitive topic....She arrived completely dishevelled muttering decorative expletives and cursing whoever that crossed her path...Not to agitate her further i stood there meekly with a glass of water and sympathetic ear for that bruised soul....
"Never trust a man who is sewing his own chappals with the estimate of distance", was all she could manage to say with a retired sigh..:)