Hmmm….Do I know music? Do I separate one note of music to another? Do I understand what it means to say – If it is a High Note or a Low note?

Nope….I am a very layman to layman in music, but I have musical ears that pick up sounds from different air sounds and interpret them to a musical instruments that my mind and brain tells it to be.

That’s all, is that enough for me to pick up a musical instrument and try on my own?!

Not sure,  not even sure after possessing a musical instrument since yesterday night.

I got myself a Yamaha C40 Classical Guitar. Do you wonder how I know this much?

Well, I was asked to buy this particular musical instrument and by a friend of mine, who is apparently going to teach me how to play this particular instrument. (Hope, I turn out to be a good student )

Leaving aside all the doubts I had about the musical instrument and having seen a picture of it on the website I was prescribed to pick  up one…I walked into the store with a little confidence and with loads of action that does not reveal my ignorance.

I was asked to go to Frutados, the musical store, in Bangalore. Now, by the time I got to the area of the shop, I had forgotten the name of the shop and I had to call Just Dial for the address….!

It was a testing time, I called up those guys….I am a regular there so they know my name and my number.

I was hoping it is not a guy who answers the call, as it is I don’t know the address or the name of the place and he put up an accent and I would with mine to match his – as fate would have it – It was a guy, heavily accented.

An attendee – “Hello, Kavitha. What can I help you with?”

I said, “F*** (under my breadth),  Well, er excuse me – I was looking for a musical instrument shop in Koramangala, it starts with F-u-r – something…..(accentuated, of course – Hum bhi kam nahi )

Oh! Yeah, Frutados  (till now I haven’t got the hang of the name )

I said, “Exactly, that’s what I want (with a surprised tone)

He said, “We have sent you this sms to your mobile, may I assist you with anything else?”

I wanted to say, “Yes, please send me a Yamaha C40 classic guitar.” But said, “No, thanks. You were of great help (Of course ) “

Then, I try and navigate and find the place.

As I stepped out of my vehicle, my hands and legs started trembling and I was in a traditional attire of South Indian women, walking into a store to buy a ‘Guitar – a Western Instrument…!’

I did not mind the basement weakness (Vadivel – Tamil Comedian – style), I said to myself, ” Kavitha, your legs are inside the saree you are wearing, don’t worry people won’t notice.”

So putting up all my pride and best postures and not to reveal that I don’t know anything about musical instruments, I walked into the store.

As I enter the store I find a group of young guys all dressed in jean and t-shirts, all black in colour and looked like hippies or the clan who grow hair, tie it and look those guitar types….sitting on bikes, smoking, and talking loudly and playing music with their hands and mouth.

I gave them a look, they gave me a look, they laughed and turned away…I scoffed and went into the store.

To my surprise, the ground floor of the store just had few piano’s and most of the store was empty…!

I looked around and let out a sigh aloud uttering – ” This is it? That’s all the store is ?? No Guitars?”  – I forgot that I was speaking aloud, a man in his 40′s came addressing to me, “Madam, what do you want?”

I stood tall and uttered, ” I am looking for a guitar”

He laughed (I don’t know why and did not bother), said -” Upstairs we have a whole lot of instruments please check there madam.”

I said, “Oh! yeah, Ok…and went to climb up with a little bit of embarrassment.”

When I got on the floor…I knew, what I missed in the ground floor….The floor was full of instruments and different shapes and sizes and different models…….!

WOW!!! I kept gaping at them…!

I finally managed to ask and then, one guy came up and said, “Sorry, madam we don’t have stock in the lower range of guitars.”

I was immediately, insulted, how can he say that…! 4800 rupees is lower range so what is the higher range?

I was looking around and found one funny looking guitar and decided to ask him, how was that? (no, I did not have any intend of buying…just to show that I need to know)

He answered, ” mam, this piece here is 16,000 rupees.”

I said, ” Ok, so when are you expecting the lower end models or are you even trying to have them?”

I was disappointed that I could not buy one, upon that he said, lower end models…I was dejected. Wondering, what to do. I had to ask him where will I get what I want. He told me another store in Indira Nagar, I had to go there and the shop closes by 8 pm. It was already 7.15 there and the traffic in Bangalore is not going to help.

I wondered even if I would ever going to buy. I already had contemplated for almost a year and half for and against the buy of a musical instrument…and learning it. Now, having come so far did not let go of it.

So, started my journey towards the next destination, with loads of hope and desire…!!

(to continue)

 Kingfisher Beeru

Bengaluru !!!“

Apart from the above, the combination of an incredibly smooth engine, insanely sharp brakes and expensive tickets have become a emotional part of my mundane life here. My tryst with Volvo Buses everyday.

Every 5 minutes you’ll find one(Oh good news), Nevertheless every minute it’ll be full(Happiness is short lived fellas). Nothing ironical there. Every Indian can comprehend that.

OK. I started travelling by these wagons since they are fast, smooth and kind of takes you away from the extremely dusty outer ring road. Oh you are welcome to the garden city. And you don’t just travel in it. You you’ve got to survive in it. So the very first day with the imperative white collar I took this speedo at 10 30 AM in the morning. It was full. Ok I tried it at 9 30 sometime. It was full. 7 15 bravo for guessing. Full again. I gave up. And standing in these buses is a pain in the wrong side. Maruthi and Hyundai must learn from the technology of braking that is being used here. And the marriage between an extremely quick engine and feather sharp brakes gives birth to pain for everyone in the bus especially for standees in particular, except for the driver. And to aid to the pain they have these moving handles to hold on to. You can see people dancing to the tune of traffic . Lol !!!

Ok I had my share of embarrassing moments in this cake. And I learnt to survive without a red face inside the red bus. So guys the below is the algorithm for any newbie here.

Rule no 1 : You’ve committed a mortal sin if you decide to take the next bus.

The first bus that stood in my stop was full. But it atleast stood since the next two whisked past. Neverthelless the first one stood cos some one had to get down. Early man catches the bus(sense?).

Rule no 2: Open your mouth wide and smile (Refrained from the using the usual Julia Roberts smile phrase)like you’ve never done before if you get to sit during peak traffic.

No explanation needed here.

Rule no 3: Never choose to stand in the common area(Men only):

Ok. Now this is really important. Men are only allowed to take the center door. May be since it opens real wide for the Information Technology tummies. Anyway so the moment you get in take your right and then just hit the upper deck.

1.Since it is comparatively easy to hold on there.

2.People might get out so you can grab you seat (Refer to rule no 5)

3.The roof is near to your head so you can think straight (alright thats shitty)

Rule no 4: Never ever sit in the lowest deck in the middle portion of the bus.

Ok. This is one place for which you can trade to stand. Since

1.You are facing the door and your eye sight is perpendicular to the movement of the bus. So you cant watch outside. Only if you willing to end up with an headache due to fast moving objects.

2.Every one standing in the stop looks at your pathetic posture when the door opens.

3.And this is important. You are in light of sight to the tummies and the not so good portion of the human design. Various sizes and Various shapes. And one in 5 are put up to gastric problems You know what I mean.

4.You ll be forced to turn and sit since your legs are protruding in the standing space. You end up with back ache.

5.The only option is for you to sit in a posture similar to indian women during the bride watching ceremony(whatever that you call it)

6.You end up watching the legs of men. Atleast pedicured legs would have been a good option. But women are miles away from where you sit.

Rule no 5: Look for signs from fellow passengers.

If you are standing in the upper deck, look for Manoj Night Shymalan’s Signs. Yeah just signs.

1.Most of them are listening to their pride of a life time. The Ipod. I dont know whats with music(lol !!!). So their hands going on their ears to remove the plugs. That’s a bloody sign. Just approach them like you are going to start groping.

2.If they are rubbing their nose. Thats it. It means there is an itch on their nostrils. Go look for yourselves. Not much signs from my side.

Rule no 6: Test the tenacity of the forearm muscle if you are standing.

All those flamboyant muscles can be put to test fellas if you are forced to stand in the common area.

Rule no 7: Standing posture to avoid the accident between two tummies.

OK. Now this is really tricky. If you are by god knows what you have done in the past, forced to stand in the common area, follow these

1.Never stand facing the driver. Cos when he brakes, both feet are in the same position and you will have to give the full effort to your arms.

2.Now try standing facing the door. So if you move you can stress your left foot and balance your self.

3.But if your determined to fall in love by literally jumping over a girl then…

Rule no 8: Pls give your seat to a real good oldie and not to the inevitable(Depends on the intensity of the charm).

No seriously, I pity the oldies who are standing.

So these are what that I observed and have been following in my tryst with the

“Cauvery Neeru

Kingfisher Beeru

Bengaluru and Volvo gaaru!!!“

PS: Pardon me if you have spent time in reading the above since its been a long time since I’ve written some thing sane. Actually its never been sane.

Before I could tell my choice, the phone rang. Meanwhile, I mentally calculated that Sunday would be an ideal choice as I had to meet a friend on Saturday. Before I could tell my choice, my dad panicked “Nanamma says Saturday is better..Now we have to act quick and buy all the essentials..” (Nanamma means Father’s mother in Telugu).

Finally, the days galloped to Saturday. They were scheduled to come at 4 pm. At 4 30 pm, my father got a call. The boy’s father was frantically yelling for directions.
“come straight..take a right.. and dead end..” My father said, coolly.
And..we waited..

He got a call again..
“No..No..Aiyoo..Not that lane.. the lane before that..” my dad animatedly explained [Aiyyo is an exclamation in Telugu].
“Go..in..beta..” My father explained the regular rules

Finally, they had come. Luckily, none of my relatives had come as they had other plans for Saturday.
I waited inside. I could hear the father’s confusion and he exclaimed how dirty the roads were. My father explained that there was a small slum inside and hence, it was dirty because of that.

After a thorough discussion on the civic sense of our lane, they called me. It looked to me like a panel more than a family. They sat like interviewers and awaited for the prospective candidate.

I walked in like a professional now. And sat without looking up for the chair. I could even guess where it was placed!

The Panel: A 50 plus-year-old pot bellied man. He seemed like he served the government for a couple of years. Symptoms: He was unusually late, he cribbed.

A 45 plus-year-old woman who appeared tensed and looked around the house.

A 26-plus-year-old man, who gulped down his fear as he sat.

A companion who was unsure why he was there.

After exchanging hellos, the father had asked me ..”So..where do you work?”
I replied “Thomson Reuters!”
He asked “Is it Software?”
I replied “Publishing..”
“What?!” he asked, shocked, surprised, a cocktail of emotions.
“Why did you join that..?” he was puzzled and worried if I was a sane woman.

My father interrupted “She liked it..so she joined.. and moreover, it was recession..”
He sat glum for a while before he blurted out the next set of questions
“which stream were you in during Engineering?” he asked
“Electrical and Electronics” I answered
“o..then..what happened” he enquired
“I was interested in this field and I joined a course for mass communication and joined this company..” I answered coyly
“Ok.. Ok..What’s your salary..?” he asked
“Comfortable enough for me..” I replied
“what’s the figure..”he asked again, sternly
“******” I told him

“What is your career growth like.. its not software either” He asked again..
“It is good..” answered
My mother interrupted us with snacks. He munched on the sweet. And, asked about my goal after 5 years, after ten years.. etc..
Transfixed, I answered them one by one. The others in the panel were looking at us as if it was our match. None of them spoke. Even the boy was quiet. Maybe he was thinking about his flight the next day. The mother munched quietly and the friend was clueless.

Finally, he bid us goodbye and while leaving I could hear him echo as he asked my Dad..”what was her EAMCET rank..”
Ufff…

I ran into my room, quickly changed and went to meet a friend.

In Andhra Pradesh, most people choose Engineering or Medicine as their field or rather are advised to take. USA can be called as United States of Andhra Pradesh.
This is just an incident where the match was to marry not two individuals but two professionals. Alas! [Thanks god!]I did not fit in their company, oops! Family.

My pen does not want to write!
It says “Benevolently, I’ve spilled over papers
But now, with my own refill I’ve had a fight
We strike. We do not wish to write!”

Stubborn!
The nib turns away its head
Doesn’t write any letter of the alphabet
Unbound..
It refuses to be a puppet

P.S.: Written at the bank of Durgam Cheruvu, where my pen refused to write!

Rubbing her running nose and wiping her tears, she remembered her mother’s words “There will always be a difference between a boyfriend and a husband….”

She had coolly remarked “Abhi is not like Nana, Amma…”
“Priyamavada.. “ her mother screamed, as Priyamvada Rao was packing her clothes to live a blissful life with Abhimanyu Tripathi, her college sweetheart and now, husband.

“mind your tongue. You’ve gone mad … when you begin to live together, you will know the pain..Money is important too.. Love will not buy you things..” her mother advised before Priyamvada left the home to live with Abhi.

She remembered the innumerable advices that poured in when she decided to leave her home and get married to Abhi. One of her school mates had advised “Aiyoo.. Priyu.. why do you want marry North Indian re? They only look fair and nice re.. Even Akka loved my neighbor but luckily Amma had saved her.”

Priyamavada laughed and had brushed all the thoughts, aside then. She knew Abhi too well and all these were mere foolish comparisons.

But, why did she think of it now? She wiped her tears and looked for her phone. She looked around the one BHK flat. Finally, she found her phone, lying near the stove. They had purchased it and most of the essentials mortgaging her gold ornaments.

She had taken it while leaving home for buying the essential items for survival till Abhi and she secure a job.
In haste, she dialed his old number. When the electronic message read. She realized that they had changed their numbers.

She searched for his new number and dialed it. Her heart beat faster and the phone rang.
Tring.. Tring..
It rang.. Abhi took a last puff and finally threw the cigarette. He ignored his phone which rang incessantly. The phone vibrated again. It was a message. It read “I am very sorry.. .. Come home.. I miss you..” He messaged “In a while. I love you!”
She replied “I love you a lot..”

He purchased the third cigarette at the Pan Shop and paid 3 rupees to him. The Pan shop owner said in a monotonous tone.. “Four rupees..”
And, he handed it over to him, after searching his pockets thoroughly. He reminisced the Pan shop wala near college where his account was still due, and smiled. His friends and he used to purchase packets and go on long drives.

He consulted his friends when he he decide to go against his family’s wishes and marry Priyamwada. His friend Prajwal had suggested, “Don’t worry yaar..We are there for you… My uncle works in a company.. and we can manage a job..His term is about to end but we can manage… ”

“you leave your home and another one BHK flat is ready for you.. You earn and you can even pay for your college fees..” Prajwal encouraged

After a lot of contemplation, Abhimanyu decided to move out of his home. He had convinced Priyamwada too. She was skeptical in the beginning but eventually agreed. After all, they felt they were inseparable and nothing could separate them. In the beginning, they tried convincing their respective parents . Their denial and their fury, forced them to take the extreme step of revolting against them.

After a lot of melodrama at Priyamwada’s home, she left the home. Taking her father’s curse and her mother’s advice against the wedding, Priyamwada Rao walked out. Abhimanyu’s family refused to even talk with him.

Abhimanyu and Priyamwada finally moved out to make a life of their own.
But by the time, they had decided to move out, Prajwal’s uncle term had end and the management had changed. They had decided to recruit only candidates with an year or more of experience.

Prajwal’s uncle had tried but failed to help Abhi. When Prajwal broke the news to Abhimanyu, he was shattered.

Prajwal said “No worries yaar.. we will manage..” “But still, it would take time!” Abhi thought
How would they complete their education? How would Priyamwada pursue her ambition? How long would the mortgaged money last? Their friends were still in college too! How long would they help them? And how much would they help?

That evening, the battle of “I told you so..” “We should have listened to our parents..” followed and for the first time, they felt the harsh pinch of reality.
Abhimanyu walked back to his home, kicking the stone that lay on the road. He could not think anything. He went to the flat and found the door still open.
He went in to see Priyamwada still crying. He hugged her tight. After hours of incomprehensible silence,
each of them had a glassful of milk and slept.

The next morning, Abhimanyu was still lying down on his bed. Hoping the day would be better, Just then, he heard Priyamwada scream ..”Abhiiiiiiiiiiiiii… “
He jumped out of his bed.. and ran to her.. she cried “My jewellery is missing..”

[Please let me know what you think, "honestly"]