“There is a flood alert you know! Looks like the road ahead is under water now. You still want to go that way?” Geeta asked Ishaan.

Ishaan started his motorcycle. “We’d be home before you knew it.”

She put the helmet on and made herself comfortable on the pillion seat. “My dad will kill me if he sees me with you.”

“My mother will kill you if she sees me with you!” Ishaan smiled.

“Same difference.” Geeta laughed.

They took a left turn from the main road.

“A lake? I thought we had a road here.” Ishaan exclaimed. They were riding the machine on a submerged road. It was seven in the evening and there was a slight drizzle. Wherever they saw, they saw only water.

“I’m scared” Geeta clutched his shoulders.

“Me too” He told her.

“Shameless pig. You are NOT supposed to say that. You are supposed to tell me that I shouldn’t worry; that I’d be home before I knew it; blah blah blah.. Yadda Yadda Yadda”

The bike stopped.

“Now what?” she asked him.

“Looks like we gotta walk” Ishaan tried restarting the bike.

“Perfect. What a romantic getaway! Here we are… in the middle of a large lake – with the assumption that there is a road underneath. I can feel it by the way. I love walking any way” Geeta mumbled.

He looked her sympathetically. “Slow down. Slow down. Take it easy. Things happen. This is a challenge and we have to face it. Maybe there is something in it for us”

“In this?” she asked him.

“Yes. Why not? For starters, there is this invaluable concept called – Experience.”

“And?” she probed him.

“Well, who knows? It might be quite useful in future.”

“The experience of walking like this? I don’t think so. I don’t think I am getting into another situation like this ever again. Keep that etched on your mind.”

“Listen” he suddenly stopped walking and stared at the deserted car in front of him. Geeta listened. She could hear nothing but the ripples of water.

“I hear nothing” she whispered.

“Shh” he motioned her to be quiet and gently knocked twice on the window of the car.

For a minute everything was quiet. Then a couple of eyes rose to the window sill and stared at them.

“My God!” Geeta screamed, “There is something in there! Alive!”

The eyes simply stared at them nonchalantly. Life was fast draining out of those eyes. They had to act fast to rescue the dog.

He desperately looked around to see if there was anything he could use to open the car. All he could see was water. It felt as if they were standing right in the middle of an ocean. The thin line separating the road from the lake had long since submerged. Now it was just a plain sheet of water extending to the horizon. It was as deep as fifteen feet at places and as shallow as three inches at others.

“The water level could be rising!” Geeta sounded a word of caution, “Let’s get help!”

Ishaan shook his head. “The puppy won’t hold till then. It is deprived of Oxygen. We got to get him out immediately.”

“Your bike!” Geeta suddenly remembered, “Tool box?”

Ishaan would have hugged her right there if he had time. He just made a mental note of it and waded towards his bike. The spanner greeted him warmly. “Eureka!” he shouted.

“I can’t break the front windshield. I shouldn’t break the rear window either because the puppy might get hurt. I should break open the navigator side window.” He talked to no one in particular. Geeta nodded. She knew Ishaan talked mostly to himself and normally didn’t expect anyone to respond.

He walked slowly to the other side of the car in knee deep water. He paused for a moment when he reached the edge of the car. He didn’t know how deep the water was – in front of him. He didn’t want to take any risks.

“Careful” Geeta shouted.

Ishaan climbed on the bonnet of the car and looked inside. He couldn’t see the puppy. It was pitch dark. He took his chances and hit the window glass with all his might. The glass cracked. It took him nearly five minutes to break open the window.

“Don’t open the door of the car” Geeta cautioned him.

He nodded. It would be like opening the floodgates of a dam. If the puppy was on the floor of the car, the force of water could hurt it.

Methodically he removed all the protruding spikes of glass from the window and called out – “Hi” unsure of whether the dog had been conditioned to respond to such calls.

It didn’t.

“Tommy!” he tried various names. There was no response. He took his mobile phone out and switched on the light. It didn’t help much. He could see that the seats were empty. The light could not illuminate the floor of the car.

“I am going in” he declared.

Geeta gasped. “NO! Too dangerous. There may be a flash flood. See the water level is rising. Let us get out of here. It is too risky Ishaan. Let us go!”

He shook his head. “I can’t let it die here.”

“And I can’t let you die here.” Geeta was furious, “Get moving. Remember! It will be really difficult for me to cross this wretched stretch alone!”

He stared at her, “That is what it is all about, huh? You’re worrying about crossing it alone!”

She smiled, “At the grassroots level, everyone is selfish.”

He examined the window, the horizon and his girlfriend, “Sigmund Freud?”

“What?”

“I mean, have you been reading Freud these days?”

“Yes I am. But that is not the point. And you have just wasted a couple of minutes. The flash flood is nearer now than it was earlier – if at all there is one!” Geeta firmly told him.

He didn’t reply. He knew Geeta would kill him if he didn’t save the puppy. All this talk was for the sake of talking. She knew he wouldn’t let go of the puppy. She didn’t want him to either.

The drizzle intensified into a steady downpour.

“What if it bit me? I am sure it is under severe psychological stress” Ishaan again talked to himself.

“The latest Rabies injection has only one dose. Don’t worry about it. My father will administer it free of cost for you!” She clarified an important fact to Ishaan.

He took a deep breath and squeezed into the car. “Ouch. Shucks man!” He examined his leg. It was a deep cut. Blood was gushing out.

He wasted no time and quickly located the terrified puppy in a corner. It was just days old. Whoever left it there, he could skin them alive.

There was a big roar. “Ishaan”, Geeta cried! He looked back at the horizon. There was a sheet of water coming towards the car.

“Get out of here, NOW” He shouted.

Geeta froze. She was not sure where to go. She had to take a split-second decision.

Ishaan kicked open the door on the other side and swam across the incoming water. In a minute he was outside the car with Geeta.

The wall of water was very close. They didn’t have enough time to escape.

“Climb up the car and hold on to the luggage rack” he shouted.

It hit them with a feverous intensity. They could not withstand the force and were swept off the car. Ishaan gripped the rack as hard as he could and prayed God. He could not breathe.

“Geeta, can you marry me?” He asked her sipping a hot cup of black coffee. The suddenness of the proposal almost threw her off the chair. When she recovered she told him “I can. But will I or will I not is the question.”

It was water all around him. His chest became heavy.

“Stop preaching me English lessons yaar. I am serious. Will you marry me?” He asked again. She bit her lip and told him in no nonsense terms – “Sure”.

He was losing consciousness and continued to swing alternatively between reality and forced introspection of his life thus far.

“Wow! She is cute.” He exclaimed when he saw her at the CoffeeDay outlet. “That is right” agreed Shyam.
“I want to talk to her.” Ishaan declared and boldly made his first move. “Hi, can I buy you a cup of coffee?”

He was desperate for oxygen. He gulped down some water involuntarily.

“Look there is a snake here” Ishaan was thrilled. The snake was not. It just grazed away. He chased it but couldn’t catch it. He was caught by his mother though. A very intense round of spanking followed. He swore he would never again chase anything in his life… a rule he did not break until he ran into Geeta, and the run morphed into a mighty chase to ensure they walked together for the rest of their lives.

There was a light; quite bright it was. More like a halo and it was growing – all pervading – engulfing Ishaan. He was beginning to enjoy it…

He looked in complete disbelief at his score card. His was the worst performance in the class. At this rate, he would not be considered for any of the campus interviews. He went to his room, locked himself up and cried the whole afternoon.

The light suddenly shrank. Then there was a sudden rush of air into his lungs. He couldn’t believe it. He could breathe again. He regained consciousness and lunged for more air as his head emerged from the water.

He opened his eyes and looked around. The water level had risen by a foot. His bike was nowhere to be seen. He looked up at Almighty and offered a prayer to him. He was given a preview of death.

And then he remembered.

“Geeta!” the sheer intensity of that shout could have killed his ailing lungs. He didn’t care. “Geeta” he shouted again.

Water replied with its characteristic ripple – very innocent, gentle and breezy.

“What happened to the puppy?” Dr. Mehta asked Ishaan.

“No idea. I remembered about the puppy only after being rescued from the flood. By then, it was not in my hands. Guess they both are together!” Ishaan replied calmly.

“It’s been almost a year, Ishaan. You need to move on.”

Ishaan looked at the doctor. He could see that the doctor’s eyes were moist. They stared at each other for some time. There was no reason to prolong the conversation. It was a tragedy they had to cope with. One lost his girlfriend and the other, his daughter.

They met on the same day every month; had the same conversation and had tea together.

“Thanks for the tea, Sir” Ishaan told the doctor and traced his steps back home. The road was silent and calm. The horizon was clear. He stopped for a moment. Nine months ago, it was on the same spot that he lost the most precious thing of his life – his life.

The End.

These days the genre itself is dying but Adventure Games were ruling the cyberspace ten years ago. People who are into AG cannot feign ignorance about the baap of all such games - Sierra's King's Quest series.

I grew up on a staple diet of KQ - It has become an integral part of my life - KQ 1 to KQ 8. And then the series died!! (KQ 8 was nothing to write home about. It was the weakest link of the series IMO)

KQ fans all over the world rejoiced when some hardcore fans came up with a KQ 9 game. (This was not an official sequel.) However Vivendi, who bought the rights of KQ series from Sierra - slapped a legal notice on the developers of KQ 9 and they promptly obliged by shelving the project.

This was a huge huge huge disappointment to KQ fans. Moreso because neither Vivendi nor Sierra has any plans of continuing the KQ series. They could have let the unofficial KQ 9 as it is.. or accord it the official status. But no! They decided to bury the project instead.

I sincerely believe it is a temporary setback for KQ 9. I am pretty confident that the same game would undergo minor changes and see that light of day - as perhaps Rozella's Quest (Notice the Z - Copyright issues with "S")

Anyways, if you are a KQ buff and if you hated the very old EGA interfaces of KQ2 to 4, (KQ1 was later remade as a VGA game) smile! Anonymous Game Developers Interactive (AGDInteractive.com) has rewritten KQ2 and released the VGA version in 2002. (I caught it on the net only yesterday!) This version uses the KQ5 Mouse interface instead of the KQ Text Entry interface and is full of lovely music and takes place in a painstakingly developed world of Koeyna. It has an expanded storyline and 85% of the puzzles are either new or radically restructured.

This game is also not an official remake of KQ2 and they aptly call it a Tribute to KQ2 - because that is exactly what it is. The entire game is about 120MB in size. (46 MB game + Music pack + Voice pack).

It can keep you glued to your outdated PC for days if not weeks. (It is a very primitive game in terms of graphics. So even your 486 - if you have one - can run this game very well.)

I just wonder - Why Vivendi didn't bring this site down!! Vivendi has plans of offering a Collectors Edition of all King's Quest games on Amazon. Wonder who will buy KQ2 original when KQ2VGA is available free on the net.

Hoping that KQ 9 will pass all these hurdles and land up in my PC one fine day.

Till then! O King Graham, thou shalt be a little more careful!

Once upon a time in a South Indian city called Chennai, there lived a young man called Raghav. He was a software engineer in one of the country’s blue-chip IT companies. He was twenty four years old when this story started.

He was a confused soul. He didn’t know why people spent so much time socializing instead of working for the betterment of the economy. He read Robin Sharma’s Monk Who Sold His Ferrari and wondered what it was all about. He knew there was something really deep in that book. He just couldn’t find out what it was.

This was a day after he wondered why people talked excitedly about chickens crossing the road.

He refused to go along with such age-old clichés. He wanted to know what was so neat about saying “So why did the chicken cross the road?” when actually a simple, “I don’t know the answer” would have sufficed.

Such a person as Raghav cannot mingle with the society - Proclaims a great man who is also the author of this story. So Raghav gets hit by a speeding truck one fine November morning. Apparently he was following a chicken on its journey to the other side of the road when the accident happened.

There were a couple of broken bones and a mild clot in the brain but doctors asserted that Raghav should not have any long term health issue. Bed rest of three months was advised. He had to avail leave on loss of pay condition.

It was probably the clot in his brain which made him forget whether he had a life ambition or not. He fought hard with the clot and tried to recollect the finer aspects of his ten year and twenty year goals which he supposedly discussed with his project manager a day before he followed the chicken.

The clot won the battle.

Raghav did not give up. He took a marker and wrote in big black letters that his life ambition was yet to be found and that he would strive towards finalizing it as early as the following weekend.

And then he forgot where he had written all that. He searched all the rooms and could not find what he had written. Gradually he forgot all about that. His ambition to find his life ambition was forgotten.

Then he saw the chicken.

It was the same chicken which crossed the road the other day. It survived the accident and helped Raghav win the battle of wits with the clot. The past came back to him haunting.

He sprang to his feet, outran the chicken and sprinted to his office.

“I found out my life goal” He declared proudly to his manager who was munching a chicken Sub piece-fully.

“Good for you,” the manager told him.

“I am going to work not for money but for answering the inner voice. Am I right?” Raghav asked him

“Yes. That’s what you told me.” His manager confirmed.

Raghav then quit his job on the spot. He was a free bird. He could do whatever he wanted. He could sit in front of the TV and listen to what his inner voice had to say – all through the day.

So he asked his friends, relatives and countrymen not to disturb him for a week. He wanted to be left alone. He bought the poster of Om and stared at it all day hoping his inner voice would rise to the occasion and guide him accordingly.

It didn’t.

He tried meditating and concentrating on the sacred symbol. It was of no use. The inner voice simply didn’t respond. He could not invoke it.

Raghav panicked at the end of the fifth day. What if his inner voice never talked again? What would he do? He had resigned from his job to follow his life’s calling. What if he could not find out what it was?

On the sixth day of his downright seclusion from the material world, he heard his calling – the voice was clear and the message was simple but powerful. He closed his eyes and saw what the future had in store for him. He saw himself chasing the chicken to the correct side of the road and then tying it up so that it would never again try to cross the road.

He heard the voice. It was his own voice. It reverberated through his body and made sure that Raghav absorbed everything.

It told him to

1. Join the organization again as a software engineer.
2. Never again chase chickens or butterflies.
3. Never again read books written by people who sold their Ferraris or talked about phone calls from God.
4. Never again wait for the inner voice to guide him.

Raghav was a transformed man. He loved the message. He went back to his manager and requested him to take him back. His manager asked him three questions.

“Are you done with your inner voice thingy?”

Yes.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t want to talkback to the source of that voice ever again?”

Yes.

“What is your ten-year goal now?”

To become a successful Group Project Manager and aid this organization in achieving its goals and objectives – and at the same time improve my interpersonal and networking skills.

“Good! Welcome back Mr. Raghav.”

So Raghav went back to being a nameless software engineer. He was no more confused. He was pretty clear about what he wanted. He didn’t want the chicken to cross the road at all. He was fine having it on his side of the road – for an eternity – forever – till he ceased to exist as a material human being.

The End.

Aditya Hrudayam

I hesitated before going in.

The fact that I would be seeing a dead body inside was, to say the least, scary. I still couldn’t come to terms with it. I didn’t feel sad when I heard the news. I was shocked. Probably it would take a day or two for the feeling to finally sink in.

The first time I met Aditya Balasubramaniam, he did not impress me at all. He was dressed in a navy blue outfit and had a burning cigarette in his hand. His beard was unkempt and his eyes were drifting constantly.

He looked as if he had just finished his dose of Ecstasy.

When he rattled off a couple of Shakespearean verses within the first two minutes of our meeting, my suspicions were on the verge of getting confirmed.

He smiled then and told me warmly – “Don’t mind my Show Off attitude. It comes to me naturally. And I am not drunk by the way.” I managed to catch a fleeting glimpse of his eyes. They were quite deep.

I looked up. It was a long corridor leading to a slightly ajar wooden door.

Aditya’s uncle was standing in the corridor with a cigarette in his hand. His eyes told it all… the pain, the frustration, the confusion and the shock. So much was communicated just by one glance. I was silent. He motioned me to go inside. I didn’t have the courage to do so.

“You want to step inside?” Aditya asked me pointing to the dance floor on the left side.

I shook my head.

He nodded, “I don’t like it either. Too much of chaos. I like to see some form and rhythm wherever I go.”

I took another careful look at this shabby gentleman who wanted form and rhythm wherever he went.

He broke into a hysterical laughter. “I knew it. I knew you’d react this way. Come on! I hate Form. I hate Rhythm. I hate Order.”

I decided to ignore him and look at the VH1 telecast.

A loud wail from behind that wooden door startled me. Probably his mother. I stopped at Aditya’s uncle. I didn’t know what to say. These were difficult situations. I had never been a great consoler. What to say? More importantly: What not to say??

“Say something, anything! Just don’t stare at the mindless garbage coming on the idiot box.” Aditya had a quirky little smile on his face.

“Are you drunk?” I asked him directly.

He was surprised. Then he was amused. Then he clasped his hands and told me that drinking was the worst thing happened to humanity.

And then, he stopped his humane lecture to take a deep puff.

I switched off the television and went to the balcony to catch some fresh air.

The wailing stopped and there was a deadly silence which was worse. I could not make up my mind to enter the house. Till now, I had heard of the news but once I entered the door in front of me, it would be a fact. A fact I had to live with for the rest of my life.

“Who cares about the rest of this life? I live on a day to day basis. The only word I hate in English language is Tomorrow.”

He paused there and thought a little about his statement. Then he hastily added, “And the day after tomorrow too… But it is not a word you see. You get the idea, right?”

I didn’t get the idea. I didn’t care either. He was an interesting person but I could frankly do without his sermon on how life had to be lived especially if it was inspired by a Chiranjeevi movie that he had seen earlier.

“Don’t say you don’t like him. He is God. His portrayal of a mad man in that flopped movie of his – really authentic and touching.”

That was why I liked him. He wouldn’t think twice before talking something really stupid. There was no disconnect between his thought process and his words. They were perfectly synchronized. He spoke his mind out.

The door opened suddenly and Anjali stepped out. I stared at her not knowing what to say. She motioned me to go inside. I had no choice now. I had to enter the house. I had to face the reality. My legs were shaking and my breathing was shallow. I couldn’t move at all. Anjali held my hand and took me inside.

He was on the bed staring at the ceiling with a puzzled expression on his face. Then he asked me seriously, “Do you know why these lamps are always near the ceiling of a room?”

“So that they could cover the entire room?” I asked him fully knowing he cared a hoot about such logical answers.

“Maybe! I don’t know. I thought it would be cool to say – because they are light!” He was laughing like a mad man and eventually managed to trip off the bed.

I smiled to acknowledge the poor joke which I might have heard at least a hundred times before.

There were many people inside, most of them in shock – silent and confused. His mother was completely disoriented and was staring at him.

Then I saw Aditya Balasubramaniam.

He could easily pass off as a peacefully sleeping young man if the bandage which wrapped up most of head was ignored.

“What is death but a discontinuation of life!” He told me seriously.

I laughed, “And what is 2 plus 2 but 4!”

He frowned at me, “You are making fun of the startling discovery I’ve just made. Life as such has no meaning without death at the climax.”

I didn’t understand it.

“You don’t know the value of life if there is no death.”

I shrugged and concentrated on Harry Potter in Pogo.

Then it hit me. It hit me hard. I could no longer deny it. Aditya Balasubramaniam was history. He would no longer talk about life or death. He would no longer crack wise jokes. There wouldn’t be any unbelievable philosophical interpretations of everyday affairs.

He was gone. Simply. Just like that.

I kneeled in front of him, tears rolling down my cheeks. I had to say it for I waited too long. It might have no meaning at all now. I knew it was going to be futile. I knew I should have told him before. I knew I would never be able to forgive myself.

I didn’t know whether I could say it there but I didn’t care. I was losing control. The image of him was blurred and the world was swinging from one extreme to the other.

I held his hand and whispered – “I love you Aditya. I love you very much.”

The End

Rewind

She stopped in front of the neem tree to catch some breath. It was not daybreak yet. The cool breeze was refreshing. The mud track from the main road was absolutely deserted. She gulped down some water and switched on the FM radio. Some old Tamil song was on air. She closed her eyes and let the breeze enter her soul. It was a divine experience.

Five minutes later, she started jogging again - away from the main road towards the dense woods. She was not worried about her safety. She just wanted to get away from orderliness and follow her instincts. She would deal with the situations as and when they arose.

Nitya, twenty five - a software professional in one of the countless software firms of India had two goals. The first was to become a software engineer. The second was to get out of the software career. She could easily attain the first one. The crazy deadlines, unreasonable work demands, politics and messy lifestyle made her insomniac. She just couldn't sleep. And she refused to submit herself to sleeping tablets. She would dictate her body. It shouldn't dictate her.

She wouldn't think about her health. She wanted to live life the way she wanted - the way she enjoyed. Death was not in her control and tomorrow may not even be written in her destiny. Hence she wouldn't worry about it.

Her first goal was a colossal miscalculation. She did not want to get bogged down by the requirements of this profession. She wanted to quit it and be a free bird. The second goal was not that easy because her family was dependent on her.

The night was tranquil. Only her footsteps were heard. It was music to her ears. She loved such nocturnal experiences.

"Are you crazy?"

She stopped instantly. The voice was that of a kid. Maybe five or six years old.

The girl was looking at Nitya curiously. Dressed in a white frock she was leaning against a tree fifteen yards from there.

Nitya checked her watch. It was four fifteen in the morning and she was at least four kilometers from the main road. As far as she knew there were no villages in the vicinity.

The girl was well dressed and polished. She spoke English. And she was calm.

Nitya clutched the pepper spray tightly and walked slowly towards the girl. "Hi, what are you doing here?"

The girl didn't reply. She just stared at Nitya.

"Where is your house?" Nitya asked her again.

"Up there" the girl showed the stars. Nitya nodded. "Well, long way back home!"

"For you, yes. For me it is just a thought away." The girl spoke serenely.

Nitya didn't want to prolong the conversation. "Goodbye then." She started jogging.

There was no response.

Nitya did not think much about this incident. She had accepted that life was full of uncertainties. People encountered mysteries at every corner. They remained mysteries or dried up like mirages. Most of them did not affect the flow of life. They were merely incidents. They did not influence anything. Nitya had learnt over the years to ignore such incidents.

She had always been a loner. She had a shell protecting her from people. She wanted to be a part of the nature. She wanted to blend with it. She didn't like humanity because human beings tried to take control of nature.

The forest was terrifying. The animals did not disturb her because she did not venture into their marked territories. She respected them. They understood her. The barrier separating human beings from the wonder of Mother Nature simply disappeared in her case.

"You think so?"

The girl was smiling. She was riding a buffalo.

Nitya stared at her.

"You are confused?" The girl jumped off the buffalo and went on to climb a tree.

Nitya nodded.

"Why?" the girl wanted to know.

"Why not?" Nitya asked her.

"You are Nature! You should know what is going on here." The girl kept on climbing the tree.

Nitya followed the girl with her eyes. When the girl disappeared into the unknown world behind the leaves, Nitya decided to resume her journey.

Since a kid, Nitya had always been talking to Nature. She would talk to the bushes. She would laugh with the lilies. She would dance with the sunflowers and deal with the bison. She had an uncanny knack of establishing a communication channel with her eyes. The animals, plants and inanimate rocks listened to her - followed her and helped her.

Her father was a clerk in one of the nationalized banks of the country and had to work mostly in villages. She loved that atmosphere. She played in the forest - with the animals and got along really well with Nature. She was just like the little girl she had just met.

Nitya stopped in her tracks and stared at the little girl.

The girl laughed, "Now you know! Close your eyes."

Nitya closed her eyes. It was a picture perfect Moon enhanced by a serene night. She could see everything beneath her clearly in moonlight. She could catch the expressions on the woman's face. She was tired but inspired. She was lost in her thoughts. It was as if she were sleeping.

Nitya could almost see the curvature of Earth from there. However her thoughts were fixated on the woman below. She remembered a lot of things. They were vague. She could remember jogging. She could remember growing up. She could remember her future.

Nitya climbed down from the tree and faced the woman. "What is this?"

The woman opened her eyes and smiled, "Future."

Nitya didn't understand, "What happened to me?"

The woman drank the remaining water and started jogging, "You have a chance to correct your mistakes now. Chase your dreams."

Nitya stood rooted there. Her memories were fast receding. Her job, her graduation, her love failure, her goals - all felt like they were part of a distant dream. The incidents had slowly been wiped off her memory but the knowledge imparted stayed on.

Nitya ran back from the fields excitedly to tell her mother off the strange meeting with a jogging lady.

The End.

Full Circle

I glanced at the calendar. September 26^th. Nitya’s Northwest flight would be touching down in fifteen minutes. Time was moving very slowly.

I looked at my watch. 6:45 in the evening. I relaxed in the waiting lounge and closed my eyes.

“Pick me up. 7pm arrival. Northwest from Amsterdam” Nitya told me yesterday.

I sighed. There was this conference call to be attended at 7pm. Nitya would never accept such an excuse. For her, if someone was in the office after 6pm, he or she did not know how to manage time.

Once I had an argument with her that sometimes there arose situations which demanded extra hours at the office, but then she took my weekly activities report from my computer and showed me that my efficiency was somewhere near 50%.

"If only you had worked the full day instead of mailing me all those crazy Hungarian Aristocrat jokes, you would have finished the job right on target."

I shook my head, “That is the perfect world you are talking about. It is not possible to leave at 6pm everyday.”

“I don’t believe that. Perfecting something requires skill and determination. You can work towards the goal no matter how inefficient you are at the time of start.”

She always spoke the final sentence in any conversation we had. She would convince me to subscribe to her school of thought and later use that fact against me.

Many a time, I was reminded of the wonderfully simple world I had experienced as a bachelor. Married men kept mum about the complexities of life after walking down the aisle. Sometimes they would share it but I didn’t pay attention.

“Are you sleeping? This is a Trans-Atlantic call for Chrissakes” I was thrown back to reality.

“The client insists on having this call at 7pm Nitya, what can I do?” I told her.

Nitya was silent for a moment and then she softly told me, “Today is September 26^th Dear Siddharth, and if I remember correctly, it happens to be your wedding day”.

Click! She did not wait for my response.

She sounded cold enough to make me lock my desk, transfer the responsibility of attending the meeting to Nirmal Kumar and drive my 1985 Chevrolet to the airport.

I felt really guilty. But for Nitya’s reminder – I wouldn’t have remembered the occasion.

I loved my wife very much. It was love at first sight when I saw her in India. I had to leave India within a month of getting introduced to her. She reciprocated my feelings and we got married though parents on either side did not approve our marriage.

“Announcing the arrival of NW-KLM 0091 from Amsterdam.” I opened my eyes and walked to the arrival gate. The flight was right on time. I just couldn’t wait to see Nitya. The business class passenger came out first. Then she emerged from the crowd. She had been in India for only a month but it felt like an eternity to me.

When she saw me there, her face lit up – she ran into my hands and hugged me tightly.

"I refuse to admit it but I missed you! you know! Guys back home love you really." She paused, " and I too love you, Mr. Siddharth".

I smiled and led her to the car.

“Let me drive it.” Nitya took the wheel and smoothly merged on to the carpooling lane.

“So I hear you’ve tried to drive in India. What did I tell you?” I asked her sternly.

She laughed, “Come on! You are being paranoid. You know? I should have listened to you. Traffic rules there are simply non-existent. I really can’t drive there at all. This feels so easy good… I missed it.” She locked the car at seventy miles per hour and asked me, “Ekkadiki velthunnaamu?” (Where are we going?)

“Tortilla Palace” I told her, “Time to celebrate September 26^th”

I couldn’t manage to directly propose to her because I had to leave the country on an urgent assignment. The day I landed in the US, I called her and tried to propose…But no words came out of my mouth. It was as if I had forgotten both English and Telugu completely.

She understood my situation and asked me to chat on the net.

I had always been a great chatter box on the net. When we finally logged on to Yahoo Messenger, I could really impress her very much with my subtle sense of humor that I had never known existed. We had lengthy chat sessions spanning over days and nights.

There was no formal proposal by either of us. We just knew it and played along. Our parents opposed the alliance vehemently for trivial reasons. We were firm on our decision and went to Arya Samaj after informing our parents. It was just an FYI for them.

Nitya shook me up. The dinner had been served. "Thinking about the affair?" she smiled. I shook my head and then said, "Yes".

She suddenly remembered something. "Where is Nirmal?”

A mischievous smile appeared on my face. “He is attending the conference call at 7pm.” I looked into her eyes trying to read them. She could not see directly into my eyes and immediately turned away. I just waited for her to become normal.

“What will be your reaction if I say I love Nirmal” she asked me slowly.

I had been expecting it for some time. But the suddenness of it unsettled me for a few moments. I didn’t know what to say. I just stared at her. She was very anxious… and very disturbed. I drank some water and asked, “Am I supposed to react?”

Nitya nodded quickly, “Doesn’t matter. You’ve already reacted. I could read that. Now I want your opinion.”

I didn’t feel like speaking and started munching the tortilla wrap. She stood up, came round the table, put her hand on my shoulder and said, “Please Papa… Say yes”

I did all that Nitya was doing now – Twenty five years ago. I pleaded with my parents. I begged them to accept Vidhi. They did not relent. “Memu oppukomu. Tarvata nee ishtam.” (We don’t agree. It is up to you now.)

We thought they would relent later. However they maintained their stance and boycotted the wedding. Later we immigrated to the United States.

It was now my turn. It was an opportunity for me to explore the other side of such things. My daughter wanted me to accept Nirmal. Could I? He was a great guy. So why should I not accept him?

I stood up from the table, patted her on the shoulder and walked out from the restaurant.

The fact that Nitya was in love with someone was driving me crazy. She did not even consult me. Now she was just asking for my permission. It was quite disturbing to me. Was I not supposed to know her in and out? Was she not supposed to keep me updated? Who was Nirmal anyway to suddenly enter between my daughter and myself? Who was he to take her attention away from me?

Nitya came out running. She was aghast. “What happened, Papa? Talk to me!” she shook me anxiously.

Life with Vidhi was great. It was an ideal life. We loved and cherished each and every moment of our companionship. Nitya was the apple of our eyes. It was picture perfect. We had everything – Money, friends, love – everything but relatives. We couldn’t go back to India because folks back home didn’t want to see us. We felt homesick at times but the fact that we couldn’t do anything about it – enabled us to get over such feelings. We had to cope with the reality.

And then, one inebriated gentleman who didn’t understand how dangerous DUI was – rammed his 1969 Pickup into Vidhi's Buick killing her on the spot. Nitya was six years old then. My world came down crashing. I left everyone, everything back home just to be with Vidhi. And she took the easy way out. Doctors told me that she probably wouldn’t have felt anything. I was furious. I had to lead the rest of my life feeling the void created by her.

It was because of Nitya that I lived on. The whole world seemed to be only Nitya. I ensured that she had everything. She was a bright kid. Over the years, we had learnt to talk about “the incident” without getting emotional. I needed Nitya’s support as much as she needed mine to get on with life.

Now she wanted to marry Nirmal and gift me yet another irreplaceable void in my life. I had Nitya to handle Vidhi’s absence. I would be all alone to tackle Nitya’s transformation from a loving daughter to a responsible wife.

Should I say No? No, I couldn’t do that. I knew it. I couldn’t hurt Nitya. I wouldn’t even dream of doing it. But then, should I agree? A thought at the back of my mind was yelling clearly – ‘Say Yes, Say Yes’.

I was thoroughly confused. I wanted some fresh air to think about it. I went to the car – waited for Nitya to get in and drove to Metro Park, a community park in our neighborhood.

Vidhi and I used to take Nitya there every evening.

It was dark. There was a cool breeze. I leaned on the bonnet and looked up at sky. Milky Way was visible clearly. It was one of the advantages of not living in the downtown.

I was reminded of Nitya’s reaction when I first showed her the Milky Way. She absolutely loved it. I told her that Vidhi was one of the stars in the Milky Way. She believed it. I believed it too. We used to go on trips just to admire Milky Way and its grandeur.

“Papa, Paala puntha (Milky Way) – Look closely papa. Can’t you feel Mom talking to us from there?” Nitya clutched my hand with her head resting on my shoulder.

I nodded. I could really feel it. My entire life flashed in front of my eyes. If only we had parental consent, our lives would have been fuller – richer. Vidhi wouldn’t want her daughter to face it all.

I was beginning to see the reality. It was biting me. One day I had to let Nitya go. It was inevitable. Nirmal would be the best husband for her. Why was I still in doubt?

I silently patted on her shoulder, “Invite Nirmal to dinner tomorrow.”

Nitya could not hide her happiness. “Thank you papa.. Thank you.. I love you so much” she hugged me warmly. Then she looked up and said, “Thanks Mom”.

Vidhi too smiled from up there.

The End.

It was yet another long weekend and we had to go somewhere at least 400 miles away as per the unwritten rule of Desi Code in the US. Instead of joining the Niagara or the Los Angeles bandwagons, we decided to explore a relatively calm and serene place called Eagle River in Wisconsin for camping purposes. Our group had seven members and we rented out two cars. When we hit the interstate, we suddenly realized that only one set of driving directions were available. So we decided to trail the other car faithfully.

A splendid day it was and the roads were surprisingly empty. It was an ideal start to the holidays. With Kishore Kumar and Mohammed Rafi for company, we kept trailing the other car for a while before one of the four in my car sounded a word of caution.

“Why does the board there say Canada is only five miles from here?”

True indeed! The board really talked about a Canada, five miles from there.

“Maybe there is a town called Canada in Wisconsin.”

Mahesh tried to interpret the information as logically as possible. The other car did not worry much about this board. It continued towards Canada in a very gentle manner.

Two miles later, we encountered another board – “Immigration Check – 2 Miles”.

The other car did not screech to a halt even here. It did not slow down. It just maintained its unnerving rhythm.

Now it was beyond any doubt that we were on a collision course with Canada, the country. Normally a drive to Eagle River from Milwaukee did not explore the vast terrains of Canada. We were confused and decided to sort the matter out with the other car members. I accelerated and we were soon side by side with the other car.

I now don’t remember the exact moment when we came to terms with the remarkable realization that the other car apparently wasn’t the car we should have tailgated. It had a long bearded Canadian and his family of five.

Fortunately there was a U-turn available just before the immigration exit. We pulled into the very first gas station on our way back to buy a map of Wisconsin. The rest of our journey had to be done by engaging the services of our seasoned map reader Sandeep.

We met the other party in Eagle River later that day. We then went to the camping site and put up the tents. It was a brilliant evening but we all felt something was amiss. Mahesh came up with a brilliant idea. “Let’s prepare tea.”

We all praised him for his superb idea. He said somehow all his ideas had always been superb. There were some logs and firewood in that area. We gathered some together and the only thing we had to light them up was a matchbox.

If you had ever been in a forest trying to work a campfire – especially when the previous day it rained cats and dogs in that area – you’d be able to appreciate the fact that it required methodical planning, superlative patience and tons of luck – all together – to get it going. A matchbox, though required, was of no use without a ton of gasoline at least.

A fellow camper – a kind Wyoming soul – who had come to Eagle River for fishing because he got so bored of fishing in Wyoming – gave us some lighting oil. “Spirit of the Lamps” it read and had a refreshing fragrance.

We sprinkled the oil on the firewood and lit it. The oil burnt exactly for twenty five seconds. The firewood however didn’t. We tried again. And again and again. After fifteen tries, the wood showed some signs of catching fire. We celebrated our victory with an unplanned tribal dance in the forest.

Mahesh thanked the Wyoming gentleman and gave back the spirit bottle. He took one long look at it and threw the empty bottle into the bushes and wished us all good luck!

Mahesh immediately ran to the car and brought a vessel, some water and a can of milk.

The vessel with water and milk was placed carefully on the fire. Then we all affectionately looked at our handiwork.

Here we are! Hundred of miles from civilization (Exaggeration of course) with nothing but trees, animals (we hoped they wouldn’t call on us though!) and the Wyoming Fishing man for company.

Here we are! The firewood blazing, the water boiling – the milk … uh.. boiling… and we have achieved so much in spite of not knowing a thing about professional camping. We are great….

“Where is the tea powder?”

We came back to planet Earth with that startling revelation. The brilliancy of Mahesh disappeared all of a sudden. The aura around his head had shrunk disproportionately.

“Public, we did not bring any tea powder!”

Being professionals, we decided to tackle this issue in the most efficient manner possible. We came up with a Crisis Management Committee because too many opinions would get us nowhere.

The committee, comprising of exactly seven persons, decided to send our Brilliance Personified – Mahesh to the nearest store to get some tea powder.

Mahesh nodded; took the car keys; zoomed out of the camping area to the supermarket forty miles away; chatted with the Red Indian owner of the store about the advantages and disadvantages of Six Sigma processes in supply chain management and then raced back to the camping site.

“All at the speed of light” He declared proudly. We nodded. He then waved his hand, “Of course you all know it is a bit of exaggeration.”

We didn’t say anything.

“Quite a bit actually” Mahesh walked to the fire.

We agreed.

“I could actually put it as – you know – at the speed of thought! That’s abstract enough to have multiple interpretations”

He gave the packet to Sandeep who was minding the fire who examined the contents of the package quite seriously.

“Does anyone know how to prepare tea with the best quality flour available in the market?”

That question from Sandeep reverberated through the woods. We stared blankly at Mahesh. He was taken aback.

“I don’t know yaar! When I took it in my hands it was tea powder. When did it get changed to super quality flour?"

To the best of my knowledge Mahesh is still trying to solve this mystery.

So with the tea party ending that way, we decided to cook.

"Mashed Potatoes" declared Mahesh. "I am going to prepare them.” He then took four potatoes and threw them in the fire. We all watched eagerly as he started counting seconds which turned into minutes. After 10 minutes he removed the blazing wood and found four black bodies inside that.

"Overcooked" he exclaimed.

"Burnt" we were firm.

He did not agree. We neither. He had to eat all those potatoes.

However Roti and dhaal came out really well. We finished our meal aaraam se and took a leisurely evening walk in the meadows.

The forest was green and the birds were chirping. The breeze was gentle and life was never better. At a distance we could see a big lake. We walked for about half an hour and stepped into the water. In a fraction of a second, our feet froze and there was no sensation at all.

That effectively shelved our idea of taking a bath in the lake.

“Anyway it is getting late. We should be getting back to the camp” Mahesh suggested. We all agreed and started walking back.

At the end of the first half an hour, we were still walking merrily towards the camp. The end of the second half-an-hour was however greeted with a bit of anxiety. There was no sign of our camp yet. We kept on walking – talking loudly to cover the anxiety. Another half-an-hour later, when there was still no visual, we decided to rope in the services of our Crisis Management Committee.

They assembled once again and made a “To-Do” decision after a really long discussion. It was to search for our camping ground.

Indiana Jones would have been proud of us. We searched for the treasure in a very creative way. At times Mahesh climbed on to Sandeep’s shoulders to have a better look at the surroundings. Three or four such occurrences later, Sandeep firmly announced that he wouldn’t entertain anybody on his shoulders any more.

We were losing hope. Public started dreamily looking at the evening sky wondering if they would ever be back in their cozy Fish Market Cubicles at their client’s offices.

“You shouldn’t wander in the forest at this late hour you know! Quite dangerous”

The Wyoming Fishing Man – Godsend he really was – spoke the sweetest words we had ever heard. Ignoring his serious expressions, we almost fell at his feet and asked him to show us our camp.

“Over there” he pointed his finger at a place ten meters from there.

We silently entered our tents and slept like logs.

At seven in the morning – we wrapped up the camp and went to a nearby river to test our canoeing skills.

We were actually quite apprehensive about the entertainment value of this so called art of canoeing. It looked like cakewalk. It was just a boat with a couple of oars to take it forward or backward or sideward as the case might be. Nevertheless we wanted to finish it off in about fifteen minutes and get back to exploring the other wonderful activities Milwaukee forests offered.

We rented three canoes. Since we were seven in number, three of us had to share one of the canoes. I unfortunately belonged to this group though I vehemently fought for a seat in the other two canoes. By the time I was done with my futile arguments, the coveted positions in the third canoe had already been taken by Sandeep and Mahesh.

I had to be content with a makeshift place in the middle of the canoe.

Our canoe was the first one to enter the river. Within five minutes we realized that there really was something strange – inexplicable to the laws of physics and Newton – which governed these canoes. We were surprised that even after rowing ferociously for about ten minutes we moved not even an inch into the river towards our destination three miles away.

The trainer rattled off some instructions about rowing in harmony but we simply couldn’t get a hold of the whole thing.

Well, seconds later we found ourselves in the middle of the river. The trainer had a victorious smile on his face. Apparently he had pushed us into the river. Now that we were on our own we tried to master the art of canoeing.

A couple of minutes of hard work taught us the proper way of using the oars. We wanted to resort to our tribal dance way of celebrating this achievement but the circumstances did not allow us to pursue this chain of thought seriously.

And then something interesting happened. The canoe, when rowed forward, crashed into the bushes on the other bank of the river much to the nightmare of Mahesh sitting in the front. Then when rowed backwards to escape that crash – it went directly into the trees on this side of the river with the unfortunate Sandeep sitting in the back getting entwined in them.

We were ashamed. We could not look at the other guys who were laughing at us from the bank.

However their joy was short lived. When they started canoeing, they surprisingly hit exactly the same bushes and trees we had visited earlier. It was then our turn to laugh at them.

After about half an hour – we were able to move along the river nicely as the canoe started behaving itself. The session was really enjoyable for about two hours. At the end of the second hour, however, my left hand refused to touch the oar. Five minutes later Dexter joined Sinister.

I looked helplessly at Mahesh but he seemed to have slept long ago. Sandeep in the rear seat reminded me of Sanjeev Kumar in Sholay. There was no movement in either of his hands.

The river was absolutely deserted except for us and the destination was still miles to go. We left all hope and started paying the God of Wind to blow faster which he did but alas! We are on a canoe… not a sailboat. It didn’t make any difference.

It was pretty clear and grim. We had to keep working the oars. There was no other go.

That revelation actually helped us concentrate better on the job and start rowing again. It was the hardest twenty minutes of our lives at the end of which we reached the pickup point. We jumped onto the river bank in flesh and blood but devoid of life!

“Enough of Canoeing” I declared firmly. Everyone nodded.

“Enough of the trip” I continued. Surprisingly no one stopped nodding.

“Let us go home” I slowly added looking at the treacherous canoes in the river. There was no response. I looked around. All I could see were two cars gaining momentum at a distance. I ran to one of them and hopped in.

The journey back home was fast. We cruised at not less than ninety miles per hour. Sandeep even tried to break the 100 barrier when we realized suddenly that the handsome dork we had just overtaken was a cop.

“Do you know why I stopped you sir?” the cop politely asked Sandeep.

“Ah umm… Yes I think I was overspeeding a bit”

“A bit? You were doing ninety five sir when you overtook me.”

“Sorry officer, I didn’t realize I was going that fast.”

“Why are you in such a hurry sir?” the cop was determined to know the real reason.

We told him just that. We told him about the camping fire; about the lake; about getting lost in the jungle; about the canoes and finally about the art of survival when the canoe refused to cooperate.

He had this strange expression on his face when we completed our monologue. It had to be seen. I have no words to explain that expression. Probably frustration, extreme fury and dazzling confusion together…

“Three hundred dollars and six points.” He seriously said and vanished from there.

We reached Toledo at six in the evening. I bid a goodbye to everyone and entered my messy apartment to find that the air-conditioner had gone for a toss!

A fitting end to the great trip!

When there is a cool breeze outside, the best thing a man can do is to walk on the road instead of being a couch potato.

Of late I had really been a large such potato, though the sack of potatoes in my bank was something a sane person wouldn’t want to talk about. In spite of my association with the best software company of India (At least I’d like to believe it was) I was really earning peanuts – or potatoes in this case.

That didn’t defer me from purchasing a twenty nine inch Television. Its arrival marked the end of the healthy Venu.

The doctor, a US returned Desi, couldn’t come to terms with the reality that a man, 6 feet tall, could weigh only fifty kilograms. When he checked my blood pressure and the lab reports of my lipid profile – he had to report this as a peculiar case. Here was a man, twenty one years old and six feet tall – with severe hyper tension and an alarmingly high cholesterol level despite weighing only fifty kilograms.

He told me in no nonsense terms that I had to get rid of that television and if possible the couch too.

“Walk” He literally barked, “Four kilometers at a stretch – twice a day – Morning and Evening and stay away from all fried and oily foods. Reduce your salt intake.”

As mentioned earlier, there indeed was a cool breeze outside and I decided to alter my lifestyle by taking some hard decisions like following my doctor’s advice. I switched off the TV, got off from the couch and started walking down the road.

Before the arrival of couch potato, I used to be a regular walker. I liked walking in the nights because it gave me an opportunity to breathe in some fresh air; think about life in general; ponder over my mistakes; generally introspect; and kick any unsuspecting Pepsi cans lying on the road.

It gives me immense pleasure to kick such stray Pepsi cans. I cannot tell you why this act is so dear to me… It may be the sound made by those cans or the interesting trajectory followed by them after I kick them out of sight.

This “out of sight” is a figure of speech of course. Couch potatoes in the making do not and cannot kick things out of sight. Period.

On that particular day, I didn’t see any Pepsi cans on the road. Don’t infer anything from this piece of information and publish a hypothesis that Indians had overnight become aware of their social responsibility to keep their roads clean.

The previous year, Coca Cola made a grand entry into the Indian market looking to steal a considerable portion of Pepsi’s market share. However the first year’s performance was quite dismal. They had to write off nearly four hundred million dollars.

As a result, they pounced on the Indian market with a vengeance. Their marketing campaign was aggressive… so aggressive that a local newspaper published a cartoon featuring a Coca Cola representative threatening yet another couch potato at gun point to buy a can of Coca Cola.

The result was pretty apparent that night. Instead of Pepsi, I could see quite a few coke cans on the road.

Being a staunch follower of Pepsi, I hesitated a bit before kicking the Coke can. My hero, Sachin Tendulkar would not have even thought about it. He would have bought a Pepsi – drunk it; thrown it on the road and then kicked it off with all his might. Such was his loyalty towards Pepsi.

But then, here we are talking about Venu Vedam, not Sachin Tendulkar. And Venu Vedam is not loyal to anything in this world. (Save the couch!) So he hesitated only for a second before kicking that coke can out of his sight.

A word or two should go here about the remarkable abilities of Venu Vedam. He thinks he is Ben Johnson when he runs; Sachin Tendulkar when he bats; Glenn McGrath when he bowls… and well! George Bush when he is doing nothing at all.

He knows only Ronaldo in the field of football. So when kicking cans, he normally assumes that he is Ronaldo. However reality does bite and he definitely is not Ronaldo. So the can, which should have gone out of sight – landed only about five meters away on an unsuspecting stray dog.

The sleeping dog woke up with a jolt and barked at me ferociously. I took two steps backwards and thought of becoming a Jesse Owens. But such an act might actually provoke the dog. So I maintained eye contact with the beast and slowly walked back towards a restaurant whose only customers at this hour of the night were those chased by ferocious dogs with shiny white teeth.

The helper there waited patiently for about a minute to take the order. When the gentleman who entered the café seemed to have no intentions of ordering anything, he looked outside and tried to whistle the dog in.

“Ok. Ok. One Coffee, No Sugar” I was quick to adapt myself.

He smiled and vanished from there.

The coffee was very refreshing. When there is a cool breeze outside and a determined dog ten meters away, the best thing a man can do is to sip the fuming coffee.

I loved that experience. I didn’t want to leave the fast food joint at all. My friends later raised a theory that it was the dog rather than the coffee which made me stay back in the hotel. We had a bitter altercation on this issue and finally agreed to disagree on this matter.

Eventually I had to come out of the restaurant. I cautiously stepped out ready to run back if situation demanded so.

The dog looked at me seriously. It was now fully prepared. There were ten more dogs – all looking at me seriously.

Then reality dawned upon me. I had to cross them to go home. I could see my lane about hundred meters from there but I didn’t have the guts to take the risk. I thought of spending the night on the footpath there and going home in the morning. But the patrol party might question me a lot. The dogs had no plans of going away from there.

Then I saw light at the end of the cave.

An auto driver was smoking his pipe a few meters away. I went to him slowly and told him in my broken Hindi…

“5th B Cross chalna hai”

“Hindi gotthilla” he told me without any delay.

I wanted to tell him that I too didn’t know any hindi except for that sentence but I feared that such a sentence might actually lead us both into a strange conversation about Hindi and Its Dictatorship.

“Telugu ya Tamil goththa?” I asked him.

“English gotthu.” He said trying to form a vortex ring with his cigarette smoke.

“Take me to 5th B Cross, BTM Layout” I told him after recovering from that shock.

He looked at me with a puzzled expression on his face and pointed to the end of the road.

“That’s 5^th B Cross”

“I know. Can you take me there?” I impatiently asked him.

His first reaction was to check my legs. They were in perfect. He then looked at my face. It wasn’t perfect but he knew that a face shouldn’t be a matter of concern here. He then started examining my hands. I raised one of those hands and showed him the dogs. He understood my problem immediately.

“Twenty five rupees.” He said.

I couldn’t believe my ears. “Twenty five?”

“Yes Twenty five.”

“For hundred meters?”

“Yes for hundred meters.”

“Are you crazy?”

“No I am not.”

“Seven rupees.”

“Twenty five.”

“Ten.”

“Twenty five.”

“This is shear exploitation.”

“Perhaps.”

“So what do you say?”

“Twenty five.”

“OK. Start the auto.”

The dogs started barking and they ran with the auto, five in the front and the remaining forming a tail. I was reminded of Buck and his troupe. The auto sped to 5th B Cross and stopped right in front of my house. I got down, paid him the twenty-five bucks and noticed a strange thing. The dogs didn’t enter 5th B Cross.

For a few moments I couldn’t understand why they were hesitating to enter that gully. Then I knew. There were fifteen dogs in my gully ready to attack them in the unlikely event of their entering 5th B cross.

For the first time in my life, I bowed to those fifteen home team stray dogs and entered my house. I call them now “The ‘Buck’ Eyes”. They may not be from Ohio… but they are as ferocious and courageous as Buck, DA dog!

Now, I bought a mini fridge so that I don’t have to leave my couch even for beer. Walking sucks! TV rocks! To hell with the cholesterol.