Fernando

"I believe we know each other?"

She whirled around at this sound behind her, and found herself facing a man about her age, in a long black overcoat and a briefcase in hand. He looked vaguely familiar, but she could not place him immediately. And she told him so.

"We studied together in high school, remember? I think it was ten years ago...", he checked his mobile, as if looking for the date, "probably eleven by now" he smiled.

A look of recognition dawned on her face. "Why yes! I remember you now. The obnoxious Class Captain character, right?"

"Well, yes, if I'm deserving of such a high opinion of my character, sure"

"Oh of course you are. Or at least were. I don't know how you are now, though it'd be pretty tough to become any more obnoxious, I think", she smiled.

"Right, so out of a chance meeting at Madrid Airport, of all places, I get the knowledge first-hand that the prettiest girl in my class thought me an obnoxious bastard. Bright reunion indeed."

She laughed, "I'm sorry. I exaggerated a bit, though it was the first thing that came to mind when I recognized you. Anyway, how ave you been? I presume you are on a business trip, judging from your attire and lack of a traveling partner?"

"Oh yes. Just stopping over for a day or two here, and then I'm continuing on to Buenos Aires. And you? No wait... you're here for the Conclave on Photo-journalism, right?", he inquired.

She was taken aback. After a few seconds, in which time she closed her mouth which had fallen open, she managed to stammer, "Why... Yes, that's what I'm here for. How... how did you know?"

He shook his head, "I didn't know. I guessed. You were always interested in photography in high school, I remembered. And I knew there was this conclave in Frankfurt around this time. So... educated guess."

"Impressive. That you remembered I was interested in photography, and that you know about the events in a city where you're just stopping over" she said with a hint of a smile.

"I try to keep myself updated", he shrugged and once again reached for his mobile and fiddled with it for a while. "So where're you going to stay, I'm booked into this hotel called The Carriage..."

She sighed, "I'm not going to be surprised anymore, this is just taking coincidence to a whole new level. I'm booked into the same hotel as well, even the conclave is scheduled to be held there."

"Wow, really? Small world indeed. So... we'll share a cab to the hotel then?" he asked. She nodded. As they walked towards the exit gates, he looked at her. She had not changed a bit over the past ten years - the same serene face, the quick wit, that smile which could make any guy's heart miss a beat... Drawing a deep breath, he turned to her.

"You don't have any plans for dinner I hope? I mean, the conclave begins only tomorrow..." he trailed off as she turned sharply to face him.

"Ten years after we last met, you see me. And ask me out" He kept silent, waiting for her to launch into a lengthy tirade. "Oh well, I'd like company for dinner anyway. Especially known company", she smiled.

Without too audible a sigh, he nodded, "I'll pick you up from your room, around 8"

"Yep, I'll try and look half-decent", she said with a wink.

As they walked towards the cabs, he reached for his mobile once again. It read '1 Message Received". He opened it and read,
'Fernando: Will that be all boss? Or would you also like to know what she's talking about at the conclave tomorrow? Or perhaps where she'll be going for dinner tonight, and what she'll be wearing for it... ;)'

He pressed the Reply button and typed out,

'No thanks, Fernando. I'll find those out myself tonight..."

Last Action Hero

The last hope. Or maybe not.

6 Things that tell you you're growing older...

1. 'Teen prodigies' in the world of sports are a clean 3 years younger than you.
2. WWE matches you watched as a kid now appear in their 'This week in History' segment.
3. The Hospital you were born in is not a hospital anymore, and the Doctor who delivered you is... er... Not there.
4. You do not open throttle fully as soon as you see an empty stretch of road, but hold a sedate 40k in the interest of fuel economy.
5. Auto people graduate from calling you 'thambi' to 'saar'.
6. Kids playing on the street tell you 'Uncle, can you please give the ball'.

Updates are welcome.

(With inputs from The Deputy Manager (Manufacturing), Ashok Leyland Ltd.)

Motorcycle Diaries: Part II

The story so far...
A group of guys get dressed up and hire bikes. They plan to roam around town, meet a lot of girls, preferably hot, French ones, fall in love with them, get married and open a new chapter in Indo-French relations. Everything happens except for the 'meeting a lot of girls' part and its consequent actions. Hence, they are still riding around town...

The Silver Beach had been recommended to us by a bunch of enthusiastic localites determined to promote their region as the favoured tourist destnation in India, next only to the Taj Mahal. It was actually in the adjoining town, a near thirty kilometer ride along a highway with small villages and large industries sprinkled along the path. Navigation was not too great a problem. There was one road, which went left and right, and curved this way and that and didn't split or intersect or indulge in any other disorienting act.

Just as we started out on this trip in the early evening, the weather made a complete volte-face. Dark clouds gathered overhead and completely blotted out the sun. The sky was dark enough to prompt thoughts of a large mother-ship breaking out of the clouds a la Independence Day. With all the foersight of the builders of the Titanic, we forgot to take any protective eye or head-gear. Those with spectacles had a tough time dealing with the sands whipped up by the wind, which was really building up now. Me, with my 15/20, 20/20 in my eyes and lack of speactacles thereof, felt like Brendan Fraser in The Mummy. The gale-force winds apart, everytime a huge vehicle like a bus, or one of those eight-wheel lorries carrying one of them chemicals (Yes, I'm a Chemical Engineer, but I don't want to burden you with technicalities) went by, the slip-stream was a literal slap in the face. At times, getting through these walls of resistance felt like breaking the sonic barrier (though I have no idea what that feels like).

The clouds were now definitely building up towards something big. The villages became fewer in number, and quintessential highway stretches began to appear- two lanes, hige trees on either side, incredible wind in your hair, mind subconsciously playing 'Endrendrum Punnagai...'. While I was not in pursuit of any speed records, we decided it would be a good idea to get to the safety of civilization before the storm broke. So we just lightly tipped the accelerator, you know, just to be sure. We didn't hit anything more than 90, really. And our efforts were rewarded, as we reached the town safely. Just as the skies opened up.

The incredible irony of us racing towards a beach to beat a storm, was not last on us. Riders on the Storm or not, I didn't quite relish the idea of a wet 'n wild visit to the beach. Hence, abandoning our vehicles under the nearest trees, we rushed into quite an unusual source of shelter which we found in a parking lot next to the beach. 'Old, rusted, gears-broken, head-light-removed autos with their roof intact' must rank second only to 'narrow, space-only-for-two, dark alley with hot girl already in it' on the list of 'Places to shelter from the rain'.

As the rain petered out, we moved out of our auto-matic shelters and headed towards the beach. The sand was not silver, though it was very clean for a public beach. I will not be cynical and claim it was only because this government-sponsored festival was going on there, and as is the case in India, the place was all spruced up just for the occassion. The water was silvery, but that could've been because of the rains- the sky was silvery as well. After a prolonged discussion that lasted all of two minutes, we decided it was called Silver Beach because Golden Beach was already taken by VGP. This seemed very logical and all were happy.

The summer festival had attracted immense crowds, and there were loudspeakers placed at optimum positions dissemenating a speech that some leader was making. The security was pretty tight as well. There were so many cops around that we formed a square of bikes around this one bike whose key had fallen off in the melee caused by the rains, and left them there.. If there had not been so much security, we would've been afraid to leave the bike unguarded at all. Tamil Nadu's finest filled us with much confidence. Seriously.

After around half an hour of splashing around in the waters, running on the beach and doing everything else that all of us had done on countless other beaches, we came back to our strategically-parked bike unit. Which was still there, thankfully. The clouds had disappeared and so had the sun. Starting out in darkness, we retraced the straight path which we had folowed with so much difficulty on our onward journey. The thing about driving at night on an unlit highway with the headlights from the opposing vehicles glaring in your eyes is that you're mostly blind. You can see approximately two meters in front of you, and you know from Newton's laws that you're not going to be able to stop within two meters from the speed you are travelling. Once again, hope lives. Apart from a few speed-breakers which got missed, and hence became take-off ramps, the ride was mostly uneventful.

All the riding left people ravenously hungry, and we found salvation in the staple diet of Indian travelers all over the world- Dosa, Sambhar and Tea. All good things have to come to an end though, and it was time to return the bikes back where they belonged. After bidding a tearful farewell to the extra fifty bucks for the lost key, we trudged back to the bus station to go back to out little, cut-off-from-the-world village. But not before having confirmed that any of our 4 other bike keys worked just as well on the bike for which we had lost the key. A little knowledge, dangerous thing...