Pizza !!

              That tunnel smelt like death. That was the first thought that went through Dhruv Bhatia’s mind as he stood in front of it. The tunnel gaped in front of him like the maw of an ancient monster. The inner walls, once yellow, were now a dark, rusty brown. The ceiling was lined with cobwebs, and the cool night breeze brought its scent to Dhruv’s nose. The tunnel had been shut for a year now. It had been a disaster. The lighting had been poor from the start. Half the bulbs that had been installed went defunct in a month.  The rest had flickered dimly, causing a series of violent accidents. Finally, with the death of a businessman last year, the tunnel had been out of use. The route of the vehicles had been changed, so the cars had to go around the mountain to get into the city. It took nearly 40 minutes. The tunnel would have taken 5. But nobody objected to the tunnel being closed off. Everyone agreed that it was spooky. Dhruv gazed at the mouth of the tunnel. His legs were shivering, but not from the cold. He had heard enough ghost stories about this tunnel to last him a lifetime. Rumours about the ghosts of the accident victims ran wild and he wasn’t very anxious to see if they were true. But he had no choice. He sighed and looked at the parcel in his hand. A toy car, gift wrapped in red paper for his son. It was Christmas Eve. His wife would be staying up to see him. They always prayed at midnight on Christmas. He looked at his watch. 11.30pm. He had to get home soon. The normal way into the city takes almost an hour. The tunnel would be much faster.

              He could get home before Christmas. The solitary lamp-post next to him flickered, the dancing beams casting frightening shadows at the foot of the tunnel, not helping the gnawing fear in his chest. He glanced at the post, noticing a piece of paper stuck at the bottom, like a notice. It looked fresh. He took a deep breath. “There are no such things as ghosts,” He tried convincing himself. The tunnel seemed to be laughing at him, the shadows beckoning him forward. He took a phone out of his pocket to call his wife, and cursed softly. The display was shattered. He had forgotten that he’d broken it earlier in the day. It had fallen to the floor from the second floor office window, all smashed up. He threw the pieces into the bushes nearby and looked at the tunnel again; his face contorted in a grimace, and started to walk. He stood a couple of feet from the tunnel now, and peeped inside. It was completely dark. Not a single source of light was visible anywhere. He couldn’t even see the lights at the other end. His heart beat quickened. “Stupid,” He told himself, setting foot inside the tunnel. He wasn’t claustrophobic. There was nothing to be scared of. That was precisely when an old story about the tunnel came to his mind. This was the one that had given him nightmares for weeks. He heard it from the people who worked with him. A year ago, on Christmas Eve, a pizza delivery boy had tried to walk through the tunnel, but he was killed in an accident. A truck had run over him, crushing every bone in his body, and decapitating him. They said the head was never found, and the ghost of the pizza boy was the one most people had reported seeing, searching for its missing head. “Old wives tales,” He thought. He had to get home. Tonight was special. Very special. 

             He stepped inside the tunnel. He walked slowly, his feet echoing with every step. His eyes darted left and right, trying to get accustomed to the darkness. A single line of sweat was running down his back, tracing a perfect line down his spine. His breathing was getting shallow and ragged by the second, his heart still thumping in his chest. The darkness of the tunnel seemed to press down on his face. He seemed to be suffocating under the absence of light, his breath coming out in wheezes. He turned around, looking for the way he had come, but there was no light there as well. He seemed to have been trapped in a vortex of darkness. His hands were trembling as he patted his pockets for his cell phone. Too late, he remembered how he had thrown the pieces away. It was broken anyway, there was no way he could have used it. He blinked furiously, trying to get rid of the sweat creeping down his forehead and into his eyes. His ears strained for some noise- the chirping of insects or the rumble of cars from the outside- but he could hear none, save for his own heart, which was sprinting in his chest, the sound as though magnified ten times. He was close to tears now, the numerous accounts of ghost stories coming back to him, as he imagined one ghostly form to another, passing before his eyes, his feet staggering wildly, trying to find the exit. There seemed to be no way out. He moved slowly, his hand desperately searching for some kind of hold on the tunnel wall, but only finding thin air. Then suddenly, he heard a noise. He stopped. His senses were sharper. His ears strained to recognise what the sound was. Tap-Tap-Tap-Tap. Someone was coming! He went perfectly rigid, not moving a muscle. He wasn’t even breathing, his heart rate now doubled. His nose took in the musty scent of the tunnel, now with a small scent of something else. Something like… was that pizza? His eyes went wide.

               He saw the silhouette of a man, coming towards him. Only a rippling shape; just about decipherable in the inky darkness. The man was shorter than Dhruv, approaching slowly. Dhruv looked at him fearfully, as the man’s hand went to his pocket, and took something out. A faint light appeared in the man’s hand. It was a cell phone, and the time showed 11.50 pm. The man was dressed in a red shirt and blue jeans, holding a pizza delivery bag. The hands were wheatish in complexion, with short fingers. “Just a pizza delivery boy, probably making a late night delivery,” Thought Dhruv, relief filling his heart. That was when he looked up to the Pizza boy’s face. He had no head. Where there should have been a head, there was nothing. A portion of empty, black space, under which the neck and body hovered, lit by the faint blue light of the cellphone. Dhruv stiffened. His whole body shook as he backed away, a finger pointed at the ghost. He was trembling violently, trying to scream. But no sound came out. It was as if the sight had frozen his vocal cords, rendering him unable to speak. The headless man stood calmly, phone in one hand. And he reached out with the other, going for Dhruv’s face. Dhruv ran. He turned the other way and ran for his life.

               The headless man watched him run until he became a part of the shadows of the cave, and was not visible anymore. The headless man stood there for another moment, trying to hear the footsteps of the man who had just ran. He heard nothing. And then he started to laugh. He laughed hard, doubling over and clutching his stomach. He straightened up and took off the pitch-black towel which was covering his face and wrapped it around his neck like a scarf. “Wish the guys from work had seen that!” he thought to himself. He walked slowly, holding the mobile phone in front of him, grinning to himself. He had planned to dress up like the headless pizza boy and scare someone for ages. He had finally tried it out today, and the result had been fantastic! He chuckled again, as he came out of the tunnel, breathing in the cool night air. He stretched his arms, and ran his fingers through his hair, thinking about the dude who had run away. “Nice!” He thought. “Maybe I’ll do this some other time,” He looked at his surroundings, and saw the old lamppost, the old bulb inside it flickering away.

 

              It was time for him to go home. He walked a couple of paces and looked down, cursing. His shoe had come undone. He looked around and went across to the lamp-post and put his foot on it, tying the laces. His eyes wandered over the rusty post, and fell upon a piece of paper stuck to the bottom. It looked new. He bent down and read it. The text was small, but not hard to make out. It was like an obituary, the kind you see in newspapers. It said: “First death anniversary. Died inside the tunnel on Christmas Eve last year,  hit by a car. Mourned by his wife and son. You will live on in our hearts.” It sounded cheesy, like the people who had printed it hadn’t wanted to spend a lot of money on it. He glanced at the name under the black and white photograph of the dead guy which was under the text. “Dhruv Bhatia.” The picture of the man seemed vaguely familiar. Like someone you once knew but now forgotten. He gazed at the picture intently, hoping for some flash of recognition. None came. He sighed and got up again, dusting his knees. “Ghosts,” he said to himself and smiled. Ghosts didn’t exist. He started to walk slowly, away from the tunnel, towards home, the solitary lamp-post winking behind him; like they shared some dark secret.

Guilt!

            Yes. She’s there again. Like a rule. No! Like a ritual. She stood at my gate as I came out holding my coffee mug. It’s been almost a year since she started coming. I’ve still not gotten used to her. Her presence sends a chill down my spine. She never speaks. But probably a silent curse has been bestowed on me. “Bindu”. I shout, calling my maid. “Ask the guard to shoo her away”. I tell her. But Bindu, my young and enigmatic maid, doesn’t tell the guard. She herself walks down and gently leads the woman away from my house. Bindu has a heart, a golden one. Memsahib, she is just a bit mad, but not dangerous. She tells me. I believe her. I tried offering the woman some money. She took it. Then threw it down, laughed and ran. To where, I don’t know, only to return in the morning. I tried to trade my guilt for money. It was a big mistake, certainly not my first one. I had made another mistake. A much bigger one

               Krishna and I were friends. Good friends from childhood. So when she told me she was getting married I was elated! I bought a shiny red and green dress for myself to wear for the special day along with gold earrings. Gosh! It had been so long since I had dressed up! Coming back home, when I was looking at the piles of clothes and other things I had brought for the occasion, memories of Krishna and me, sitting on my grandma’s veranda piled on as well. I was in Mussorie then. At the age of five, when my parents were trying to make a decent living in Delhi, I was sent to my Nani’s place to live. Nani was old and lived alone in Mussorie. I was admitted to a school, and thus, began a friendship that stood the test of time, distance and memory. Krishna was in the boarding in the same school. She used to come to my house during weekends and Nani cooked her favourite delicacies. We spent hours sitting in the veranda, chatting. We never got bored of each other and our talks never ended. After school, when we took our separate ways, we pledged, we’ll be always there for each other. And so we did, somehow. But we were there for each other. Krishna left to the United Kingdom for her business studies. I went ahead to fulfill my parents' dream of becoming a doctor. I had just started my practice, when one fine day, Krishna called me and told me that she was getting married. Krishna! My shy, sober friend was getting married! I had to go! 

              A month before the marriage my own personal celebrations began. I managed to escape early from the hospital and then roamed the streets of Delhi to look for things I knew nothing about! Anything, which I would like, or Krishna would like. By the end of the month I had various things from probably every shop in Delhi! At night, Krishna used to call me and tell me, with excitement, the pre-wedding preparations at her place, in Hyderabad. I, in turn, told about my shopping sprees. The day I was to catch my flight for Hyderabad my excitement knew no bounds. I literally bubbled with energy and was intoxicated with euphoria. In my over-enthusiasm, I had even done my packing a fortnight ago! I couldn’t sleep the night prior to my flight. The next day when I got up, I danced and sang alone in my apartment. It was Krishna’s wedding!

              My flight was in the evening. I had taken leave for two weeks from the hospital, so I had nothing to do, but to sit and think of the reunion that lay ahead. I was blissful. Little did I know that the events that lay ahead would forever leave a mark on my memory, that too, not in a very pleasant way. In the evening, around 4, when I was checking my luggage for the hundredth time, my phone rang. It was from hospital. The receptionist informed me that I was called, urgently. I was irritated. My flight was in four hours, plus, I was supposed to be on leave. I stuffed my luggage in my car and left for hospital, thinking that from there, I would straight make a move for the airport.

              The hospital was in chaos. The head nurse upon seeing me rushed towards me. Before I could even ask, many voices started telling me what had happened, in a desperate attempt to sink in the urgency of the matter. Of what I could decipher amongst the buzzing of many voices was this – A boy was hit by a truck while driving his scooter. He had severe head injuries, and two of his leg bones had been powdered. There had been excessive blood loss. But the problem was he was brought to the hospital almost two hours after the accident. A blood clot had formed in his skull, which, in turn, was affecting flow of blood towards his brain. A surgery had to be performed urgently to remove this clot if the boy was to be saved. Dr.Solanki, my senior, and the head neurologist were on a week-long tour to Japan.

               The situation was such that I was the sole neuro-specialist then. By the time, I was aware of the whole scene I was almost on the verge of passing-out myself due to sheer pressure and anxiety. I had assisted Dr.Solanki in some surgeries, but those too were minor ones. To suddenly become the in-charge, that too, in such a serious case was beyond my calibre. My hands were sticky with perspiration and fine beads of sweat now adorned my forehead too. I was perplexed. Why wasn’t the boy referred to some other hospitals when there’s no doctor here? “It is because none of the other hospitals are ready to take the case.” muttered the head nurse. “It’s a fifty-fifty situation.” She whispered in my ear. I knew I wasn’t capable of performing this single-handedly. I could not. 

                Plus, I had a flight to catch. Human, they say, is the most beautiful creation of God. Here lay a man who could die anytime, and there my mind thought of my best-friend in her wedding costume, dancing for Bollywood songs. Where is the beauty? I looked around helplessly, seeking a way out. It was then that a screeching voice came running towards me. “The doctor’s here??” The blue sari clad screeching voice said. “Please save my son. I have gone to five hospitals, no one takes him. I am poor. But if you save him, I’ll pay you any amount you want. Just save my son. ”She said and fell on my feet. I was moved. “It’s not about the money mataji.” I replied, trying hard to control my emotions. “But I am new. I haven’t performed any such major surgeries.” “Then call someone who knows it.” The woman wailed. Her blue sari was smeared in dirt and sweat and what not. I took a step back from her. “Rajeev is to get married next month. He is just 24. Please save him.” She said, as I signalled the ward-boy to pick her up from the cement floor. She was helped to her feet.

                 I looked at my watch, 6:30. I had to leave for the airport. I panicked. I peeped inside the small window of the room in which Rajeev lay. He was covered in blood. Had it not been for the oxygen-mask, I would have mistaken him for dead. I took a deep breath. I couldn’t do this. I am new. The boy needs another doctor.  And Krishna … “Mataji.” I said calmly. “I am writing a letter to my friend who is in ****** Hospital. They have good doctors there. They’ll do the surgery and I’m sure Rajeev will be fine. What’s the use of me doing the surgery when there are other good and experienced doctors to do so? ”She sobbed silently. “But they say he can’t be moved now. He’s too critical. And ****** is almost 40 minutes from here.. ” I cut her sentence mid-way and shot a piercing glance at the head-nurse. There was no need to give such extra-information to the patients’ relatives. “Mataji, a team of sisters and a junior doctor will be with you. The hospital ambulance will take you there. Don’t worry.” The woman still sobbed uncontrollably. She looked at me for a while, probably looking for some hint of humanity in them. But they were lost in the flash lights of the marriage ahead. Hastily, I wrote a letter to a doctor I knew in ***** Hospital. The ward boys put Rajeev in a stretcher. His mother still sobbed and looked at me. I consoled her and hurriedly made my way outside.

                 Krishna got married. It was a lavishly laid out grand affair carried out with great pomp and show. She is now settled in the US. Rajeev never made to the hospital I’m told. I am still in Delhi planning to move to some other city now. A woman in blue sari appears at my doorstep every morning. Her sari is in tatters and her face has lines running from every corner. Bindu tells me she’s mad and roams the area aimlessly. Hahaha! Bindu laughs, observing me squirming with discomfort as the lady appears at the gate. “Maybe she wants some treatment from you memsahib.” I am not able to appreciate the joke.

Is it really such a huge issue ??

An idle mind is always a devil’s workshop. There are so many things that we find amusing the night before a crucial exam. Even standing in front of the mirror will not amuse you this much. One such night I recollected some of the conversations I had with my classmates before I made friends with them. Here are few of them.

Hi! I’m Sudeep. And you are?

Me: Surya.

S: From?

Me: Chennai.

S: You know only Tamil and nothing else kyun ki mein Chandigarh se hoon.

Me: Rehne de bhai. Kisne bola ki mujhe Hindi nahi aatha?

S: Kya? *Bursts out laughing* Chennai waale hindi jaante? Kaisa yaar?

Next

I’m Saurabh from Delhi and how about you? Mein Delhi se nahi hoon lekin Hindi me baat kar sakta hun!

Ranveer spoke the same way and so did Debashish.

           A few more interesting conversations followed. But the best reactions came from my very own city people. The startled look on their faces said it all. The problem wasn’t with or for me. It was for my non-Hindi speaking friends. They had horrible first time conversations with their ‘only Hindi’ speaking friends. Their reactions varied between ebullience and wistfulness. Why is that people who know Hindi expecting the others to know it as well? Is it because the national language is Hindi and we should all stand by the rule? Allow me to correct such beliefs by quoting that as per the constitution of India, Hindi is not the national language. In fact, India doesn’t have a national language and it doesn’t need one. So it would be prudent to lower the expectations which were supported by a myth rather than a fact. Now to the most important question: Why Chennai won’t speak Hindi?

            I would say it is as the exact same reason why a person from Delhi, Punjab or Assam does not speak Tamizh. First, Tamizh is a language that from my knowledge has existed for close to 2000 years with crores of people speaking the language. It has stood its time. The only languages that tried to compete with it are Hindi and its mother, Sanskrit but have failed to create its mark. It’s a fact that we love our language and do not like to speak a different language when we are in our domain. And this reflects in being supportive any to Tamizh community outside the country irrespective of what is right or wrong.

           Two – Fear. The more you love something, the more you’ll be afraid that you’ll lose it one day. And you’ll do everything at your power to protect what you love dearly. That’s what people in actual power in 1960s did by opposing point blank to the proposal of making Hindi as the national language based on the fear that nationalizing Hindi will slowly erode Tamil. Our fear is justified.

           There are several points that one can put forward to enforce our side of the argument. If you travel to Barcelona/Madrid, do you expect people to speak in Hindi? Obviously not Hindi when you can’t expect them to know English either! Will you complain that English is a global language and they should have known it? On the same note, why should you expect someone in Tamizh Nadu to do so? Because it is a part of India? The greatest strength of India is its diversity in languages and sustainable cultural diversity. Don’t try to nullify that strength by expecting the entire nation to speak in a single language. If you are moving to a land that doesn’t speak the language you do, the onus is on you to learn the new language and not the other way around.

            Everyone has their own choices and can make their own decisions. When I started college, the language spoken over here wasn’t my mother tongue. It seemed like Saroj Narayanaswamy reading the news in French. It was that funny. I didn’t brood over it. But I vowed to learn the language and even though I’ve failed miserably at it so far, I know that I still have 3 other languages that can help me survive anywhere in India. No-one stops you from learning something; it’s just that you choose not to. It’s not Tamizh, even languages like Telugu and Kannada experience similar issues. As people from Bangalore and Hyderabad can converse in Hindi, it makes them a better cosmopolitan than Chennai. Only the state governments continue protecting the regional language. 

             Yes you can continue arguing over such topics forever and ever. India is a sovereign, socialist democratic republic where anarchy will never prevail. Choose your own medium of communication and do not burden the other person with the you-should-know-what-i-speak nonsense. In that case English can be considered as a global language. Why don’t we look forward in that direction? And my dear brothers and sisters, please do remember that our national song and national anthem were both written in Bengali. 

Cheers to our ‘national language’.

#Frustrated Indian.

I MISS YOU :(

               Appa!! Will you frame that picture of Adi and Me or not?  That was the first thing that entered my mind when I entered OUR room .Oh, It’s not going to be yours or mine hereafter. I’m already a non-paying guest in the house.  I can proudly say that you were my inspiration for the three most important skills for a person: Reading, Creative Writing and speaking fluent English. Blogging goes without saying. You proofread all my blogs so far, I won’t let you touch this post :P .You have definitely had more share of fun with me than amma or appa either by fooling around with my hair or dressing me in the up in the weirdest fashion or stealing my pen-pencils or taking me to your friends’ house just because you needed company. Seriously, how many people have you fooled by declaring me as Aditi, that too with just a pony tail and that evergreen pink frock? :O Paaaaavi :P

              All those amazing fights we had: You scratching me with your huge nails, throwing water on me, switching off the TV just when I wanted to watch something, watching only hindi channels and so many more. You were such a mean sister ;). The way you and me used to co-ordinate every mistake and master-plan by perfecting expressions which always meant *What ? Us ? When ? No Way.*Only we knew what we were up to. Every single expense right from the adidas floater to the wildcraft bag to the van heusen shirt to the north star converse to the …………………….. :P You have those bill details to show la? 

Now, every time I come home for the weekend or for any festival, I won’t have anyone to disturb from their deep sleep in our bedroom either by switching off the AC or the fan or in the worst case pinch your hand :P . Nobody will be there to hug me and say Adiii lets go shopping or drop me in the gym or stay with me or help me with this. I can’t help but cry now .I got everything I needed in life. There are a lot of things money can buy but nothing can buy me an awesome elder sister like you J.

              Like I said, it all seems to have happened so quickly. By the time I grew up and could understand what was happening around me , they said you were going to get married and move away to someone else’s house far away from here. It all appeared so new to me with so many people coming over and talking to us about so many complex issues. And now I stand amidst everything wondering what happened in the two weeks I was home. Standing on the dais consoling appa and amma saying she is going to be happy but feeling sad inside knowing that you were going to leave us and go nonetheless. I really miss you dog.

               You were there for me for everything. Right or Wrong, we were never divided. You stood by me, supported me, told me take my chances and always look at the bright side of things and told me to smile no matter what. You said when a problem arises don’t brood saying WHY ME? Instead say TRY ME! You kept me smiling when nothing went right for me. You are extremely adorable. Yes de, he is extremely lucky to have you by his side. You make a great couple. Yeah :P He was the only one I accepted instantly right ? Lucky fellow. 

                The English dictionary does have a hard time when it comes to describing people like you. So yeah, I’m going to stop this right here not because it’s getting late for dinner or because I have a train to catch but for the fact that I don’t want you to miss F2 SF anymore. We were,are and will be there for you no matter what. Chill Out. We are just a missed call away. You have a family of your own now. You are a grown up girl. Take good care of yourself and him and your lovely credit cards because Aditya still has a lot of duties left with that :P (Just kidding ) . And yeah, totally forgot about it, I LOVE YOU <3 anddd  HAVE A HAPPPYY AND AWESOMATIC OF THE AAROMALE MARRIED LIFEEE :D :D <3

PS – I hope you liked it J

PPS – I don’t care, coz you should say I liked it :P

PPPS – You better follow the previous one J

PPPPS – OKAY! That’s enough :P

Don’t forget to show those 30 awesome teeth of yours :D

#Adi :)

Once upon a time in BSNL ..

Adityaaa , check if the WiFi is working. A half sleepy soul stumbles out of bed and instead of looking at the modem to his left, accidently falls over in such a way that he opens the bathroom door and falls inside. Nice way to start the day! I check the modem once, twice, rub my eyes and check properly. Yes dad, ITS WORKING FINE! Without even brushing the teeth switches on the idiot box part-2. You are not connected to the internet. Network cable unplugged. My engineering brain sat down for a rigorous 15 minute checkup of the modem and its flashy lights. RJ45 and all the other associated nonsense. I finally gave up and called my wonderful service provider for help.

Welcome to Bharat Sanchar Nigam Limited. How can we help you? Recorded voices are always pleasant, aren’t they? I explained my situation after pressing thousands of buttons and finally my complaint was registered. Wanting an instant solution I called a linesman to check and he bluntly replied: Aaan, Ethernet cable gone. Go buy new modem. I stare at him in disbelief. How did you say that uncle? Light together no blinking pa so only. Romba sandosham! I take my scooty all the way to the telephone exchange and after finding my way through the maze, I go to the Internet queries counter.

Me-Madam, I just registered a complaint saying internet not working. I stay in Adyar. But now your technicians said  ….

CC-  Adyar ah? Metro rail they are making near the airport no pa? lot of cables got cut. That is why internet is not working pa. Next!

Me-Controlling my laughter and in a serious tone tells her, Aunty, your linesman said Ethernet cable is not working and it seems I have to change my modem.

CC- Oh ho modem problem ah? First itself you should’ve told me that pa. Sir, your modem was an outright purchase so we cannot replace or repair your modem. Next.

Me-I know that but your senior manager told me to get it replaced if I have further issues and this is just 3 months old.

CC- They will tell thousand things pa. You won’t understand all that. New BSNL modem is Rs.2250 only. If you want buy or else go register complaint. Nothing will be done. Go Go.

Customers (Goats) behind me get agitated and ask me to leave as I’m apparently wasting their time.

Dejected, I sit on the rat bit cushion sofa wondering what to do with the modem. A goat walks in and asks, Madam, remember me? Modem problem? Oh! You?  Sit down sir. How is your son madam? No sir, I have a daughter. Oh!ok ok . *Goyyale. Nee enna sonnalum unaku modem kuduka maatanga de! :P* Rejected, he sits next to me and asks, why pa smiling? I politely ask him, uncle, modem problem? Yes pa. this is 4^th modem I have changed in the past year. *Highly experienced*. Now they tell me no more replacements. What sort of management is this? I’m going to complain to the higher authorities. *Panni paaru de nee.* I strike a jovial conversation with him and notice another person walking towards a similar counter.

Man- Saar, my telephone line is one biggu problem. Last week your man came and saw and told no line fault but now again line not there saar. What do I do saar? If I call from mobile it is saying line is dead saar. No internet connection also saar.

He gives his telephone number.

CC- Sir, when our linesman checked your cable, everything was fine. But now computer is saying problem is inside the house only. Till the door it is ferfect! I think this is because of the new metro rail Sir.

*Ethana peru kitta da idhaye solluveenga? :O *

Man- How saar that alone is possible? I don’t understand at all saar. You please send your man again and tell him to check properly once more saar. Please saar. Thank you saar.

Unable to control my laughter, I burst out laughing when I see an old man carrying 4 boxes barging into the room saying: I WANT TO KNOW WHO MAKES THESE MODEMS!  I immediately step aside and let him sit on my chair. He shows us the boxes and says. These buggers have sent three different technicians bringing three different modems in the past one week. Only similarity is that both the technicians and modems are useless. I will not leave this place unless I get a modem in good working condition and perfectly installed. I can’t keep climbing the stairs of this building just for this purpose. Stunned, I looked at him and the least I could say was, Good luck Sir.

Power cuts from 8 to 10am in my locality and by the time I reached the office it was almost 11:15am and by the all this ruckus was over it was already 12:45. Government offices are always sharp with their lunch and closing times. I kept wondering what would have happened to the old man as I rode my scooty back home but in all probability, he would not have got a modem . Even if he did, it would not work.

This is not just for laughing guys. This is reality. This is exactly what happened in the BSNL office.

#Enna Koduma Sir idhu ?

#A true story! :)