This one was sitting in 'drafts' for quite a while... until I chanced upon a similar article from a friend of mine; realized she's published this before I did and she's gonna get all the patents and become rich and rule the earth tyranically until all humanity dies. Very soon, I also realized that I publish my own articles and I don't really have to care how similar my article is to hers. And finally, I also realized that if I don't publish soon enough, Blogger is gonna start charging me in dollars for every post I publish. 

Perplexed? Baffled? Mystified? Bamboozled? Let me clear the air a bit. So this goes back to 2008. The global aviation industry was getting poorer by the day. Just as I was hinting my chances of going to the Americas, they hit upon this novel idea of charging a fee for my checked-in baggages. At a time when my funding situation was as well known as what genitals my unborn kids are gonna have (can't I write anything straight?), and I was trying to save up whatever I could, and I was hitching on this evil plan of asking my dad for my share of the property, out of the blue comes this news - "Pay up 15 bucks for your checked-in bags" ... and I had two of them ... and I had to make a transit in Newark ... that makes it 60 bucks (quick mental calculation; 60 dollars x 50 = 3000 INR). Freakin' 3000 bucks to get MY bag into their dumb cockpit ? And would they promise me to bring it safely to Pittsburgh? No they don't! They charge you freakin' 3000 bucks and you gotta HOPE that its gonna come with you. 

Venue: Bangalore Airport (BIAL) - Grabbed onto 2 trolleys from the ocean of trolleys all around... one for my luggage, another just because I like pushing trolleys and standing on them. Reminds me of those banana carts. 

Venue: Kingfisher Airlines - grabbed onto a bottle of water given to me with a million dollar smile from a beautiful air hostess (Mallya - you rock dude!), coupled with sandwich and some delicious sweet (remember, all this for a 90-minute journey to Mumbai).

Venue: Continental Airlines (Mumbai) - phew! This plane is filled with senior citizens with uniforms... perhaps there's a contingent going to America to live their last days chanting the holy Bible. Oh! Wait a minute... they ain't pilgrims, they are air hostesses of this freakin' aircraft! Grandmoms with tongues lashing out at Asians and granddads with popping pupils spitting fire if you try to call them. Mallya's air hostesses perhaps would let me sleep on their laps if I had requested so... these may ask me anytime to step out of the plane in mid-air just because my skin ain't bleached. 

Food was out of the question... I got snacks for lunch, snacks for dinner, no on-demand food, and water, drinking water, was scaled down to a tiny cup... the same cup in which you drink coffee in a fast food restaurant. Atleast, Indian restaurants fill the coffee upto the brim such that you gotta suck the top layer up before you actually drink 'em. Here, dare ask for a second cup of water and perhaps the airlines has to shut shop!

Venue: Newark International Airport - Few trolleys arranged in a line. A tiny quarter slot above it. I try pulling the trolley with all my effort... perhaps American trolleys are very heavy because they use solid iron to build them... after all, they are bloody rich. Or are they? What the heck? 3 dollars for a trolley? Do I get to take them home with me? Or is the 3 dollars inclusive of the lady standing behind it? Quick mental calculation (3 dollars x 50 = 150 INR). 150 bucks to rent a trolley! Isn't my transition supposed to be from a third-world country (as the Americans like to believe) to a first world one? Or have I taken the wrong plane and entered Sierra Leone? Welcome to America!

Venue: Pittsburgh International Airport - 3 dollars again! RIDICULOUS! This was just the beginning. So, all those hulla-gulla about airlines cutting down on a leaf of lettuce as a cost cutting measure wasn't exaggeration after all. The fun ride begins here...

Scaife Hall cafeteria saves up on tissue paper. Initially, one tissue paper was split into two. Now, tissue papers are stacked up in such a way that you can pull only one at a time. All those bunch of free black spoons, forks and knives piled into a big basket are things of the past. Cafeterias have invested on a mechanism in which you gotta press a button, and only one spoon falls at a time. Noon conferences don't have pizzas anymore. In short, America is going bankrupt! Automobile companies are depending on Asian companies to save their asses. Its short of impossible to get a credit card OR a loan. Crime rate is on the rise again. People are holding onto their chairs to withstand the cyclone of layoffs all over. 

Looks like we'll graduate and start applying to Indian companies and pray that they take us. Reverse brain drain... wouldn't that be so amazing? Well, its not so easy, but not impossible too. When America gave to the people, it gave away more than it could sustain. And now, it holds onto everything so tightly, it even tries to deny people what rightfully belongs to them. Like this news about charging people a fee for peeing inside the plane. Perhaps this is the American way of ensuring people drink less water and ergo, profit the aviation industry, ensuring low flight costs. Perhaps I would be allowed to pee only half the quantity if I pay half the fee (to ensure even the not-so-well-off people can use their elegant facilities). I can barely fit into their toilets (for those who don't know me, I'm pretty thin) ... once I fit in, I can't even turn around, my back is stuck to the door ... and pretty much the door grazes my face when I try opening it... and they expect me to PAY for this wonderful experience. 

Are they ready to compensate me for that torturous journey across the security check where I am a hard core criminal carrying weapons of mass destruction in my teeny tiny baggage (if I kill people with my socks and underwear ... why allow them in the first place?)? Are they ready to compensate me for that uncomfortable journey wherein I can't move my legs... my neighbor is stuck to me as though we were Siamese twins... the plane drones horrendously throughout the journey? Are they ready to compensate me when they ask me to pay up for any food I order on plane... I can't reach my bag of food as its impossible to move my arms... and they don't respond when I call them? 

There are a million other things America can do to save costs! Keep that extra leaf of lettuce in the sandwich ... but STOP the DAMN war ! Give me more water to drink but remember to SWITCH OFF your lights at the end of the day. Let me pee in peace but buy more FUEL EFFICIENT cars. Save me the trouble of collecting quarters for your stupid trolleys but STOP polluting the planet. 

Meanwhile... some distance away... Ryanair (a European airline giant) is cooking up a 1.43USD fee for letting people empty their bladder in their plane to generate revenues. And thus one stupid goat follows another stupid goat... which follows the second stupid goat... which follows the third stupid goat... which follows the fourth stupid goat... which follows... 

(Also see - Post Bush Era)

Oh superman! The greatest Kryptonian ever... stronger than the strongest... faster than the fastest... you can lift a car with one hand... you can stop a bullet in its path... you can fly at speeds faster than light... you have the power to move entire planets... your visionary powers stay unsurpassed... your intelligence stays unconquered... 

Oh superman! What would the world do without you... you are needed everywhere... you are needed by everyone... you brighten up the lives of people... you make the earth a wonderful planet... but...

But who brightens up your life? What do you like? What don't you like? Who makes you laugh? Who makes your living wonderful? You make us happy but do you cry alone? Who do you go to when you are sad? Tell me... has anyone remembered to make you smile today? Anyone?

Definitions of single on the web:

·         Individual: being or characteristic of a single thing or person

·         Existing alone

·         Unmarried: with relation to status, sex and parenthood

·         Lacking a partner; solitary

The last definition really intrigued me! I’m Suhas; 24 years, 7 months, 26 days since my birth. If I’m right about my prediction that my lifespan is just around 50 years, I have lived half my life. And I have lived it in solitary confinement if you will.

I often questioned myself … is the world’s population an odd number or an even number? Today, I can safely say, it is an odd number.  Every person on this planet has found a partner … if not, they will eventually. I was created perhaps as this ‘joker’ character … a joker is a not-so-good-player in cricket who’s the odd person and ends up playing for both the teams as his presence hardly makes a difference to any team.

According to the US Dept. of Health and Human Services, NCHS, there were 2,208,000 marriages in the US in 2008. And this is just marriage … the remaining people are mostly unmarried couples. So with such chilling statistics, what the HECK will people like me do? Oh! Wait a minute … there are no people like me… it is just me and me alone!

But a little bit of introspection clears the air a bit. Do I really need a girlfriend now? Don’t my lab rats do everything a girlfriend could possibly do? Ok, maybe not in the true sense. But then, from giving me free phones to taking me out for their lingerie shopping, I am getting everything I wished for. Do you guys (especially those who have never shopped with girls) have a frikkin’ clue about the varieties of dresses a girl’s section have? It is not just about the color or the design boss… it is about the material; it is about the cuts; it is about the transparency; it is about the length (or the lack of it); the girl’s section is a world of its own. It is like the closet of ‘The Chronicles of Narnia’… a hidden magical world where dangerous things can happen (like shopping beyond your credit limit).

And it is not just about shopping. Girls tend to be possessive and expect their puppet (spelt boyfriend) to be possessive… about them of course! I DON’T have to be possessive at all. Or better put, I can be possessive about different people on different days. Or you might think I am getting the definition of being possessive wrong. But who really defined the time period of possessiveness?

And there is a certain degree of comfort talking to committed individuals. They open out to you trusting that you won’t flirt with them considering their commitment status. They have a vent to bitch about their boyfriends which is pretty amusing to hear. And there’s no effort needed to impress anybody… be unshaven, wear yellow pants, have a bad hair day, pick your nose, drink through your nostrils … and still nothing changes!

But then… yeah, there’s always a BUT; which is the BUTT of all problems. Life gets too boring if things remain calm and smooth all the time. Happiness has to be as transient as sadness. Both happiness and girlfriends are to be handled, in life, with equal poise. And it is always nice… the ‘one’ person, the ‘one’ next to whom you sit by default when watching a movie or in a bus; the ‘one’ person’s popcorn … the only popcorn you ever wish to share from; the ‘one’ person whose hair you want to feel; the ‘one’ person whose hands you want to hold and take long walks on beautiful evenings; the ‘one’ person whose hug can comfort you even if India has lost a match; the ‘one’ person who is always the ‘one’ and nothing can replace that.

To me, the ‘one’ is and has to be arranged … love is a gift I am yet to receive… I’m Suhas; 24 years, 7 months, 26 days since my birth… and I think I need to go do a Western Blot now (anti-climax ain’t it?)

America has certainly made me more patriotic. Patriotic about India of course (for all ye cousins of mine who are folding up thy sleeves to attack me!) In particular, its making me like Kannada a lot more than I always did. America can do this to you ... I always keep saying. The only way you realize the value of something is when its been taken away from you. So in reality, this renewed patriotic high is not really fake as its generally considered ... its a natural reaction owing to the circumstances we have been thrown into.

Obviously ... I was on an old Kannada movie watching spree. I have watched more black-and-white movies in one week here than I have ever watched in my lifetime. I just could not help notice how much the movies have changed ... the present ones don't even faintly resemble the ones our fathers and forefathers spoke about. Its believed that ... once a person starts talking about how wonderful things used to be before and how its all got screwed up now ... he is probably reaching retirement age. On the contrary, I stopped growing after I reached 16 and yet I still endorse what I said previously.

Take a Rajkumar movie for instance. It invariably began with his childhood. Beginning a story with the hero already grown up was considered ridiculous ... a hero has to start from childhood. Then there were a series of unfortunate events which led to the hero running. The hero (in his childhood ... remember) had to run because that's the only way he could grow up. Either he was chased by police constables ... or he was running in a race ... but there had to be running. The next thing you know ... the shorts which ran down just enough to expose his thighs were replaced by tailor-stitched pants and a shirt with a horrendous looking pattern on it. That followed a song. The best part about all this was ... these songs were probably shot when the hero was traveling to his village or he was just taking a stroll along the countryside. No foregin locations ... no gaudy settings ... no goras dancing for Indian numbers ... no metro trains ... no super-expensive clothing which changed after every stanza ... no superbikes or Porsches. In fact ... not only would the song be a beautiful one ... the hero would establish himself to either belong to the poor/middle class family background. He would help old women carry their pots ... help farmers with their harvesting ... give milk sweets to kids who barely have clothing to cover their bodies or maybe not even that ... and the only prop you can see is a black handbag over his shoulder which probably contained absolutely nothing.

The houses were very simple. The hero would be struck by poverty and hence lives in a tiny shack. On those rare occasions when the director feels a little rich ... the hero is given this big house with a big porch ... two sets of stairs which leads to the same part of the floor ... 2-3 sets of sofas with a table at the centre. Means of transportation? Ranges from a cycle to an ambassador car. Compare this to the SRK movie in which he lands in his private helicopter in front of his house (which is as big as 3 football fields by the way).

Enter heroine! If Jayanthi or Lakshmi or Aarthi or Kalpana emerged from the blue waters of Seychelles in a one-piece swimsuit ... brushing their wet hair backwards ... and did a catwalk with an attitude-filled smirk on their face ... that was it ... it would probably announce the shut down of Sandalwood. In reality ... heroines were the typical ... shy, always behind the curtain characters. The duet songs used to be pretty much the running-around-trees type ... but it was filled with vivid characters ... attitude ... shyness ... concern ... lust ... satisfaction ... anger ... everything shown with such subtlety that you'd smile at the simplicity of their lives. Even after item songs weren't a taboo anymore ... item girls were generally well dressed! In fact ... they wore more than what heroines wear today.

Most villains used bare hands to halt the hero's path to victory (and hence the end of the movie). Wicked ones usually hid a knife which could be flicked open at the pull of a lever. Rich ones owned a pistol ... and extremely sophisticated ones had electric chairs ... water bodies filled with crocodiles ... infrared ray chamber ... or a gigantic man who would feel tickled even when you beat him up with all your strength. And not many villains stayed as villains till the end ... few join the hero's side ... few get transformed after they get a solid punch from our hero ... and only those rare few die in the end after making sure that they have killed the 2nd heroine or a character that wasn't needed anymore.

People who watch the movie were genuinely treated as guests. Recall most of those once-upon-a-time movies ... all the main characters grouped towards the end (as if for a group photo) and the jest always had something funny to say that made everyone burst out laughing. Most Rajkumar movies end with both him and the heroine folding their hands towards the viewers ... not with the most popular item number of the movie ... or a deep smooching scene as inspired by Hollywood.

What struck me most was the simplicity of those movies. They were real. And those people were real. Rajkumar comes home for dinner in the night ... changes his dress into a white banian and a dhoti with a towel on his shoulder. Our heroes probably sleep with an Armani suit and we are expected not to question the logic behind it. Music flows with the song ... the lyrics carried most importance ... the music just uplifted the mood of the occasion. Proposing was without any complications ... lovemaking was subtle. A kissing scene would be shown metaphorically by two roses dashing each other in the wind. Stories revolved around middle class and poor people ... the richer ones being rich enough to own one car. They never painted these rosy dreams on our minds about attaining those luxuries someday. People get influenced by the movies to a large extent ... atleast for some period of time after which the effect wears off. Earlier, we wished to mimic the characters of the protagonists ... rather inculcate them in us and attain perfection. Today ... the only thing that impresses us are his/her looks ... attire ... lifestyle ... and strength.

I won't say the movies just got bad. Parallel cinema has achieved wonders these days. Previously taboo-considered issues can be thrown into the limelight with utmost ease today. Very slowly ... although not so steadily ... the 'woman' is getting stronger roles ... for a long time ... she was always under the protection of the hero. Atleast woman-oriented roles have made their mark in offbeat cinema. Music and songs still seem to be good although they have stopped working in tandem. Yet, the movies are no more about us. It has become about those people among the stars that every one of us strive to become someday not realizing that it keeps going farther and farther away as we ascend the throne of luxury. Life's not simple anymore ... rather, we don't make it simple anymore. The story of a middle-class family, today, is the surest recipe for a box-office flop!

Do you think we are a diverse species? Meaning ... do you think every person is so different from the rest? Think again. Its believed that human beings are very similar to each other at the DNA level; in other words, we share 99.5% genes from other human beings. This means that, two people anywhere on this earth are more similar than two chimps from the same troop. For whatever reasons this is so, yet the fact remains that its only by 0.5% that we differ and this 0.5% pretty much makes us look like what we are - diverse!

But what is so fantastic about all this is the amount of diversity and amount of differences that 0.5% has created. Except monozygotic twins, you can NEVER find two people who look alike (except in Indian movies of course!). Every person's nose is so differently shaped ... fingerprints never match ... the orientation of teeth never match ... a combination of nature and nuture has led to an explosion of phenotypes.

Americans ... for example ... sometimes I feel are an entirely different species. They look nothing like you. Their nature ... features ... ideas ... principles ... its all SO different. They have bigger personalities ... mature very early (who can believe Hannah Montana or Miley Cyrus is just 17yrs of age) ... they have this irresistable urge to party every other night ... their accent's weird (sometimes a little fake too) ... if their hair is black, they have used dye ... they do not know any other country apart from India, Africa (which Americans think is a country), Iraq, Pakistan, Palestine and Israel ... and they know these mostly because about prevalent diseases, existing poverty (they must have watched Slumdog Millionaire) or these countries are possessing potential weapons of mass destruction. They are a different species alright ... it feels like you are an alien trespassing on their planet.

I once tried explaining to a friend about the stem cell research in NCBS, Bangalore. He gasped in surprise and almost choked on the pizza he was gobbling ... "Isn't it true that poor kids get their eyes popped out and are sent on streets for begging in India?" asked he. I'm talking about stem cells and he's more interested to know the death toll on a normal day in India. Take these species of organisms to your country and there are only 2 things they wish to see ... the Taj Mahal ... and the slums of Juhu and Dharavi.

But there are times ... times when I think ... they are NO different from us. Its on really stupid occasions ... but its on these occasions when it actually strikes me hard that we are no different after all. We are all descendants from an Adam and Eve, if you will, and hence related to each other. Mitochondrial DNA gets maternally transferred from parents to offspring. The 'Y' chromosome in males gets paternally transferred. This means that, mitochondrial DNA of Eve and Y chromosome of Adam has linearly come down through generations and is within us now. Ever seen an American coughing? He/she coughs just like you. Ever seen one eating a banana? During a tennis match, at the time-out period, Martina Hingis was gobbling up a banana. My little cousin was so surprised at this and she innocently asked me, "Do they eat banana too?" Somehow, that process sounded too Indian for her. Seen someone crying? Seen old people in the bus? Don't they resemble so much like our grandparents except for the fact that here they know English ... and they have weird looking attires. Seen anyone get hurt? Do you recall that their blood was red too? I always know that I am way too different from anybody else ... yet sometimes, at the weirdest of moments, reality strikes and I see our similar phenotypes surfacing. Its those times I feel that we are all so much the same in so many respects ... and yet we fight, bicker, quarrel, kill, and harm ... because we are so different from each other ... and because we are so much the same.

Time to introduce some fellow bloggers. I generally do this without their permission and I have been let off without a penalty until now. After all, who does'nt like FREE publicity. Do you know the word 'free' is one of the most included words in Google search? Yeah ... man is a cheap animal!

Since he's a part of family ... and carries 25% of my genes (him being a cousin brother type) ... naturally I give him precedence. Bharath's http://bharathstransientthoughts.blogspot.com/ is a portal for ... for ... for ... I dunno. He writes everything ... movies, Federer Nadal matches, VTU exams ... anything and everything that comes into his mind. He, sharing 25% of my genes, is therefore only 1/4th crazy. But he writes well ... don't trust him to blog forever ... he keeps changing his blog addresses like the email ids of spammers ... but whatever he posts, he writes damn well. And there's a variety in the topics he chooses ... the randomness, the missing theme ... that's what I like. Check that out.

Then, there is Mouna's http://mouna-creations.blogspot.com/ for the more deep readers who think I need to be assassinated with immediate effect. She reads a lot of Indian literature ... sees a lot of well-made movies ... and writes a lot of posts that get you to think. Nope ... she doesn't preach ... she doesn't ask you to pray or work for India's progress or orders the government to go to war against Pakistan or orders Dravid to try square cuts more often. She writes good articles in suttle ways ... there's a simplicity mixed with intensity. And yeah ... she paid me well to write all of these.

And then there's my personal favorite ... Janani's http://unpolishedmirror.blogspot.com/ for people who live on the earth ... meaning, you can immediately connect with what she writes. From Bangalore's autodrivers to her lab monkeys ... her posts are hilarious ... straightforward ... and makes a strong point. She tends to preach at times ... but the kind of preaching which makes sense ... the kind of articles you like to read. I love a couple of her posts and wish she writes more.

Then there's the legendary Rahul's http://missedcallfromiim.blogspot.com/ which ... defies every law that exists in Einstein's science. I dunno if he got a missed call from IIM ... but I believe IIMB is a much safer haven now without his presence. He writes intense (and good) poetry ... and some posts that motivate you to suicide immediately. He does feel threatened by my presence in the blogging world and often targets me for his taunts which I take with a grain of salt. He's got potential ... to write good stuff ... or to increase the number of suicide cases in the police files.

And do read my http://down-in-the-pitt.blogspot.com/ which breaks down all barriers of sensibility and sanity. I do realize there are more blogger friends that I have ... but I hardly get to know who blogs and who don't ... coz i'm the only pathetic one who forces people to read what I write. Thank God there is no 'Do Not Disturb' for emailing ... how will human antagonists like me survive then?

Who says America is clean? When it snows here ... Bangalore's Kalasipalya is a lot more cleaner ... i mean it!