So far...

Mr. Int was getting chased by the wife. He was running for his life and had heavy tennis racquets in his hand that were meant to bully the man of the house.


                                                        Episode - 2
The characters

Woman / Wife :  Lakshmi
Man / Husband / Mr. T(ennis) : Ravi
Mr. Int : The Intruder
Henchmen : The accomplices of Mr. Int
The Mystery Man: (Will be revealed later)


Seeing Mr. Int run, the wife started running behind him shouting, “Hey! Stop! I want to talk to you.” Mr. Int was inexplicably scared and ran shouting, “Chupacabra! Chupacabra!” (Spanish for Devil.) Unable to hold on to the heavier tennis racquets he had in his hands, he dropped a few of them and increased his speed. In panic, he forgot his escape route and took a wrong turn in the backyard and bumped in to a wooden shelf of some kind. The impact was so hard that it opened and a deluge of junk items stored inside that shelf came out and carried him like a hapless victim caught in a flash-flood. The wife came in very closer and was about to literally get hold of him. Years of marriage had her physically prepared well to grab a grown man by his collar. Mr. Int closed his eyes when the shadow of her fell on him and the long arms were about to grab him. All he heard was something foreign in language. The wife had lost her patience and was yelling at him in Hindi.

“Chupacabra! Chupacabra! Salvame Dios...Salvame dios!” He shouted in fear.
“Kaminey...Kaam teekh se karthe kyon nahin?” She screamed. “Paise vaapas dho.”
Even though the mistake was hers, without any intention of accepting the project scope being gone wrong, she tried to blame Mr. Int, showing the emergence of a true Indian Manager in her.

“Theri naani aayegi kya, ye sub kuch vaapas rackne keliye?” She was irritated on seeing the items from the old shelf lying around.

As the luck would have it, one of the items on the floor just got pushed by him when he tried to get up, to the spot where the sun light was at its maximum. The glitter from it blinded her eyes. She momentarily got distracted and that was enough for him get up and make his escape. She still did not pursue him. She had one of the tennis racquets in her hand. She could have simply hurled at him. The garden rake was just in her hand’s reach. She could have picked it up and tripped him. But she did not. Something about that glittering object stopped her. She bent down to take a closer look.

Meanwhile...

Mr. Int ran for his life outside on the side walk, towards the get-away car waiting for him. Sensing something went wrong and their buddy was in trouble, one of the henchmen waiting inside the car opened the right side back door to aid Mr. Int get inside quickly. The timing was so bad that he opened the door right at the time Mr. Int was very close and it banged right on his legs. “Dios, me perdone!” Mr. Int cried, shouting in pain. In that short moment, his hands went up and down, right to left multiple times, simulating the Latin Cross. Despite his pain he got in to the car and the car took off.

[Conversation in Spanish]
“What happened, my friend? What happened?” One of the henchmen in the back side of the car asked.
“Chupacabra! Chupacabra” Mr. Int still showed the sense of fear.
“What? Chupacabra? What did you see? Why are you so scared?”
“The woman who went out in the car...she was inside...” Mr. Int trembled.
“What? What? What?” Two other henchmen in the front joined the third one and responded in shock.
“Yes, honest to God. It was a woman inside the house. There was no man.”
“A woman or, ‘the’ woman who hired you? But, you did see the Prius leaving the house, right? Are you sure it was the wife who was in it? Perhaps, somebody else was driving the Prius. What is true my friend?” The one in the back asked again. His voice sounded like the man in the “Dos Equis” beer commercial.
“No...No...She said, she would make sure that her husband would be at home.” Mr. Int was still unconvinced. “I was very close to being caught. She could have really sent me to jail. To me, she must be the Lady Madonna who wanted me get away from this hellish life. I will light a candle for that wife everyday for rest of my life.”
“What about the tennis racquets?” Asked the driver.
“Forget it! I am a changed man. From now on, I will earn an honest living and serve the Indian people through my work. I will start with dosa parties for now.”
Hearing Mr. Int, the other three shouted in chorus: “No Amigo! No!”
“Why not?” Asked Mr. Int.
The henchman at the back put his hands on Mr. Int’s shoulders and in a friendly tone said, “Never serve the crazy Indian people...that too, never do the dosa parties. Do you know what happened to Rodrigo who lives in our neighborhood? He has gone nuts ever since he did a Dosa Party at an Indian house in the Mission side of Fremont!”

“Paz para el! Paz para el!” All prayed for Rodrigo. (Peace to him! Peace to him!)

Meanwhile...

At the house, the wife took the glittering object in her hand. It was a wrist watch! The moment she touched it, flashes of million images appeared in front of her. It was not the iPhone apps gone wrong. She knew it: it was a flash-back! The flash-back of the events that were so vivid, so livid, that it never lost the sense of time, that it was many Thanks Givings ago. To show her love for her man, she braved the cold on one Thanks Giving night for the “Black Friday” sale: her first such one. That night, her man made sure that she stayed warm by getting her the comforters from home. He got her foldable chairs from home to comfort her legs. He made sure that a warm place was always there -- their car -- by running the heaters on. And, the whole night he stayed inside to welcome her in at any moment. She did not. She was on a Mission. A Mission of love to get the wrist watch for her man. Her first gift as a thankful note to him. Though, he never accompanied her for any more Thanks Giving night outs, she kept on going for the following years in the hope that she would get that magical moment again in her life. She thought she had lost it -- not only that watch, but that magical moment. Getting that watch back was a sign. That wrist watch got her that magical moment back!  She looked up at the sky and did a sign like the wide receivers do after a touch down was made in the end zone. Realizing that she had made a mistake, she walked in to the house, straight to the pooja room and asked for forgiveness from God for making such a bad move on her man. (For those who are familiar with the Indian movies, it was like her walking in to a temple on a stormy night with the bells swinging wild and the doors to the sanctum were going open and shut. Bolts of lightning flashed on her, on and off. One of the bells strike her forehead and a streak of blood appeared like a Sindoor.)

“God...how could I misjudge him...” She cried.

For every step she made, the heated argument she had with her husband sounded in her ears like a voice from the sky.

“I will cut your [tennis] balls, if I ever see them in my vehicle...”

She heard her own voice ricocheting of the walls. Every time she heard the voice, she felt like being hit by the lightning. Horrified by the anger she had unleashed she cried in pain.
(Author’s note: Some more flair could be added to this from the personal experiences of the other well known “Pathi Sevthas”. Perhaps, dragging two children side by side and walking over broken chess pieces?)

Meanwhile...

The Prius approached a tennis court far away from home. Mr. T got down from the car, took his gear out from the trunk and walked towards the court. He saw his playing buddy -- Mystery Man to us -- waiting by the court side. Suddenly Mr. T did some stretching to expose his calves when a cute looking babe walked by. He did some push-ups when another cute looking babe in push-ups walked by.
“Tera raaz kya hai, Angres ki raani?” Joked his buddy about the woman who just passed by.
Mr. T smiled at his friend’s remark and asked, “Are you waiting here for a while? Sorry man, I got delayed.”
“It’s fine,” said the Mystery Man. “Did you get out the way you had planned?” He asked with a grin.
“But for the forced gas station run, everything was perfecto.” Mr.T gestured with his index finger placed over his thumb like a chef and exploded with his signature laugh.
“I did send the mail on time, didn’t I?” asked the Mystery Man.
“Without a good manager like you, I don’t know how I could have kept my wife to shut up,” said Mr. T. “One e-mail every half hour, that is simply amazing! How do you do this? Marvelous man!” He could not control his curiosity.
“I was in Cisco before for many years. This is what I did being a manager there.”
“Holy Cow!” Exclaimed Mr. T.
“Shall we start our play?”
“How many sets? 3 or 5?”
“Let us do 5. I got enough emails to send to keep your wife busy the whole day.”
Mr. T and his buddy put their pinky over their lips and did a Dr.Evil laughter.
“uhaaah...haaahhh”
The laughter was heard miles away.

Rajesh ka 40 nahin hoga do bara!

Inspiration to aspire for doing big and better things in one's life comes in many ways. For some, it could be from their friends; for some, it could be from reading about some event. To me, lately the Hindi movie, "Zindagi na milegi Do bara" has made a huge impact in me that I have started telling myself, "Man! Do something that is worthy of remembering. Do something!"

What should I do? was the main question. In the movie, three friends embark on a journey to Spain for celebrating a bachelor's party and in retrospect, learn something about themselves. Can I think of something similar to that, for me, and for my wonderful friends? For a few days I couldn't get enough sleep and finally I came up on the idea: How about going for a vacation to Spain with my friends, for my 40th birthday (this October)? That sounded like a plan. Thanks to the U.S passports, all we have to do is to book the flight tickets, reserve a beach house and voila! We would be there in no time!

Trust me, in doing the math it does not appear to be as expensive as the Vegas party we had last Spring. Sorry Monica (at the blackjack table), no offense to you. Sorry Veronica (at the roulette table), no offense to you, too. Sorry Jess... (ssh! Whatever happened in Vegas, should stay in Vegas.)

I don't think I will have a problem in luring my friends in to this. If their significant others (assuming it would be their wives) rebel, I have drawn up a list of excuses for everybody.

For example,

1) Cisco has an off-site meeting for the executives in Madrid about the possible cost cutting measures, and they have to do it outside of US mainly to keep the Wall Street folks in not knowing about it.

2) During the semester break Wharton expects its MBA students to learn about the efficiency of the management styles in the European countries, preferably in the countries where nobody works after 3 PM on a weekday.

3) Seeing your own friends jump off from the plane (sky diving, as in the movie) that you fly is something worth remembering.

4) What better place in the world to practice "Sudharshan Kriya"! On the sandy beach, under clear blue skies, and the warm water of the Mediterranean splashing on you, you will have absolute control of everything IN YOU and AROUND YOU!

Just like the great MLK Jr. envisioned, I do have a dream. Yes, I do have. Yes, I ...

(I am in dream mode now.)

We go to the coastal Spain, and rent a wonderful beach house. After enjoying the water activities -- sorry, no Katrina Kaif for us -- we then go to the southern Spain to see the Moorish architecture. It is just five of us, as Ram is busy on a Cisco off-site meeting and is expected to join us only in Pampalona. Gunna couldn't make the trip as he is expecting his second child.

On the way, when we stop at Bunol for the tomatina festival, I see Vamsee shying away from the frenzied tomato throwing crowd.

"What is your problem, dude?" I ask.

He goes, "Are they organic?" (Thanks to buying groceries only from WholeFoods with his beloved, the impact in him has been trans-atlantic.)

"Organic? Why so?" I ask. Being a Costco shopper I see no point in arguing with the Trader Joe's/ Whole Foods brethren and I just leave the scene.

Meanwhile, I look for others and I see Beebs trying to make a "Bloody Mary" out of the tomato juice. "Vodka! Vodka! Does anybody have Vodka?" he is seen shouting. He then imitates the British accent and approaches a girl saying, "Bloody Mary...do you have some Vodka for my 'Bloody Mary'?" and laughs with her. Interestingly, she thinks he is very funny and charming.

"Where is Ravi, man? Where is he?" I ask.

Sharma points to a corner on the road, and in there, amidst the chaos happening around him I see him doing the Vipasana! Clarity in Chaos! Salute to the master!

"What are you doing, dude? Don't you want to jump in and get splashed?" I ask Sharma.

"I am waiting for Siri to join. I can't do anything without her by my side."

"Dude, this is a guys only trip. That is not going to happen." My heart starts palpitating hearing his determined words. His words mean only one thing...that is...

"Here she comes," Sharma screams! The blush due to the sudden rush of blood to his face in seeing her makes him look more red than the pile of tomato splashed slush all around.

Sharma looks at Siri and she smiles. Sensing their love, in the background of my head, the urdu poetry of Javed Aktar plays on...

Ik baat honton tak hai jo aayi nahin
Bas ankhon say hai jhaankti
Tumse kabhi, mujhse kabhi
Kuch lafz hain woh maangti
Jinko pehanke honton tak aa jaaye woh
…Aawaaz ki baahon mein baahein daalke ithlaye woh
Lekin jo yeh ik baat hai
Ahsas hi ahsas hai

Khushboo si hai jaise hawa mein tairti
Khushboo jo be-aawaaz hai
Jiska pata tumko bhi hai
Jiski khabar mujhko bhi hai
Duniya se bhi chupta nahin
Yeh jaane kaisa raaz hai

"How come?" I ask, totally confused.

"Well, she was in the back row of our plane -- in disguise."

In that moment, I remember a traditionally dressed Indian woman on our plane, but not realizing that it was her all along. "Should have known. I should have known. She seemed too authentic to be true." I curse myself.

"Where is she staying?" I ask with a deep sigh in my tone. Too late.

"Just a block down from where we stay."

Accepting the reality of loosing the charm of "guys only trip", we spend the rest of the day and take off to Pampalona the following day to feel the rush of the "Bull run".

[Day of the Bull run, in Pampalona]

Me, Beebs, Vamsee and Sharma wake up early to face the raging bulls. Ravi is not interested as he sees no point in getting chased by the bulls.

"Yesterday's Vipasana has given me a lot of clarity. I am going to work on some research docs. I want to chase the Wall Street Bulls. Not these. See you folks in the evening," he says and slams his room door.

When we are about to leave our hotel, we get a phone call. It is from Ram.

"My flight got delayed. You may all proceed. I will join you later. By the way, what is the dress code?" he asks, and ends the call.

"Guys, it is just the four of us. Hopefully, Ram will join us later," I say. "Do you think all of us would make it till the evening?" I ask, struggling to put a smile on my face to hide my nervousness.

We are all dressed up in white shirts, white shorts and a red scarf around our neck: just like the real matadors.

"Stay put! Pathi dev garu. Stay put!"

The high crescendo of a female voice gets echoed in the nearby haciendas and we look in the direction the voice came from. It is Siri. She is dressed in a saree and has a 'Aarthi' plate with a lighted lamp on it. She rushes down a flight of stairs in that open courtyard and the kumkum on the plate raises up and creates a 'reddish halo' around her. She comes closer to Sharma, takes a bit of kumkum from the plate to keep it as a blessing on his forehead. Just then a loud horn sounds and in a sudden shock she looses the plate she has in her hand. The plate tumbles and all the kumkum gets splashed on Sharma's shirt and shorts.

White shirt. White shorts. Kumkum all over. Red! Red! Nothing but red!

"Oh, no!" she cries. She turns her face away, keeps one of her hands on her forehead, holds Sharma with her other hand and laments, "No! Pathi Deva! No! Don't go! This is a bad sign."

Seeing his beloved in pain, Sharma drops out of the bull run.

"So, it is just the 3 of us, I guess," Beebs smiles.

Me, Beebs and Vamsee go to the starting point of the Bull run. The announcer makes jokes in Spanish. Everybody laughs. So also us.

"GENTLEMEN! THE GATES ARE GOING TO OPEN! BE READY TO GET CHASED!" The announcer says in Spanish.

Even in that noisy surrounding, we heard each other's heart beats. Are we doing the right thing? What if, if we get gored by those bulls? Would it feel painful than the decade of marriage?

We see the gates open and bulls charging out. All of a sudden all the bulls go in to spasm as if their medula oblangata has been jammed.

"What is going on? What is going on? Why are the bulls acting crazy?" Everybody wonders.

The bulls are seen shaking their heads vigorously. Some drop down as if they are having an epileptic seizure.

"I know what is happening," Vamsee says.

"YOU KNOW?" Me and Beebs ask in unison. "Did you drug them?" Beebs jokes.

Vamsee flashes his signature smile, walks over to the side and gets a smart phone from one of the bystanders. Still smiling, he opens an IM and sends a message: "Honey! Are you there?"

By the time he hits the send button, he sees the response: "Yes, I am. How are you?"

Tap...Tap...Tap... He types a lot faster.

"Are you doing pooja?"

"How come you know?"

"Could you stop the "jing jing swing" of your Mangal Sutra?"

"Why? Anything wrong? I am just praying for your safety."

"The bulls are convulsing here. The run is stopped due to your "swing" power. Could you

stop it, please!"

"I can't, if you are still in the field. I can't. I just can't..."

Vamsee sees the bulls in very bad condition.

"I am dropping out. Promise."

Suddenly, all the bulls get up and look around. They look at each other and wonder what the hell just happened to them.

Vamsee goes towards the bystander, hands him his phone, and says, "I am off, guys! I am off! It is going to be just the two of you."

Beebs looks at me and asks, "What happened to Ram?"

By that time, the bulls are back in action and the run starts. All the men who are there to experience the thrill of their life run helter skelter when the bulls start charging towards them. Just after myself and Beebs make the first turn on that small lane, we see Ram jumping in across the fence that is set to separate the participants from the bystanders.

This is where he shows his class once again: Neatly combed hair, designer red color scarf around his neck -- possibly from Armani, neatly ironed Louis Vuitton shirts and shorts with the visible creases, and not to mention the El Matador Pro Keds Hi Top shoes on his feet. He has the latest model of the Timex Pro watch, with the GPS that gives the precise location of where he is -- not only on the face of the earth but also in the distant planets -- not to mention with more features such as the time zones of 50 different countries, a heart rate monitor, a blood sugar monitor, an antacid monitor, and a radar to sense the speed of the raging bull, and an executive members only edition satellite link to stream the latest updates from the tech ventures in the Silicon Valley.

Seeing his Armani scarf I hide my 5 for 10$ scarf from Costco, that I bought for the whole group. We nod each other and start running.

It is just me, Beebs and Ram. Ram seems to be in very good shape and he jets ahead. Seeing him up in the front, a couple of bulls do a special charge at him. One more turn to go, and a few yards later it is the end of the run. The bulls are giving a good chase at Ram. At the turn, the centripetal force on him outbalances the centrifugal force and he slips, but manages to save himself from falling down by pushing himself off the surface -- thanks to the special Matador gloves. Ram realizes that he should have gone for the El Matador "Super" Hi Top shoes and not the regular Hi Top shoes. The regular Hi Top shoes only handle turns up to 45 degrees, but the Super Hi Top handle a lot more.

Still the bulls catch up to him. We want to do something, but we are also being chased. The honed horns of the bulls are inches away from Ram's back. Me and Beebs look at the scene in terror. Just then, one of the bulls that is chasing Ram goes too close to the separator fence and accidentally locks its horn on to a bystander's hand bag. The bag is a women's hand bag -- the new baroque edition from Prada -- and it masks the whole face of the bull. Unable to see, the bull shakes its head vigorously and the hand bag gets loose and flies up in the air. The loose bag flies across the statue of San Fermin.

In slow motion, things start to happen. As the Prada hand bag flies past the face of San Fermin's statue, the bulls see some strange light coming from the direction of the statue.

Prada bag...San Fermin...strange light.

Prada...San Fermin...light.

The bulls get scared that some divine force is not happy in them chasing Ram and give up their chase on him. But, when they see me and Beebs making that final turn, with a renewed strength and anger they start chasing us.

Few more yards to go and we will done. The bulls are chasing. I look at Beebs, and he laughs. He knew that there would be no kind of "jing jing swing" power to save us.

Just our heartbeats and the sound of the bulls' foot steps. Thad...Thad...trap...trap

THAD!! THAD!! "DID YOU SEE WHAT TIME IT IS?"

I was woken up from my dream. It was Shree shouting at the wee hours in the morning. I slowly yawned and got up to face my day thinking about the barren landscape of the industrial Fremont across Solyndra, and the fate of seeing nobody good looking but only some "Dho Bacchoan ki Ma" types at any of the fast food places in Mission Blvd.

Still, I enjoyed my dream. I don't know what happened to me and Beebs. I want to go in real to see it. Don't you all want to know?

It's simple. Just send us to Spain, then.

It's confirmed: Sharma and AMAT split after 15 years

As the world was recovering from the sudden end of Eva Longoria and Tony Parker's wonderful marriage, rumors started surfing about another possible split -- something unimaginable -- a few weeks back. Though, I had the access to that secret information, sadistically and yet honestly, I did my prayers for that split. As the popular saying goes, "one man's delusion is another man's faith," I was shocked and surprised to see my last week's delusion turned in to this week's faith!

It's sad to know about Sharma Pamarthy and Miss.AMAT's split.

As good friends, I understand our curiosity to know about what could have happened to such a wonderful couple to go in different ways. Let us consider some facts. Miss.AMAT was his first love out of college. She saw an innocent, charming boy, with a cherubic smile straight from the lanes of Hyderabad, who got lost in the distant land of the "Sooners." Out from the college, he was as raw as a dust of silicon, but she saw the true value in him. She offered him hope; she offered him the dream of making big in the Valley; she gave him all.

Although their age difference was big, she started looking younger and younger, like a ferocious cougar, as Sharma hung around with her, more and more. She took him to places: Taiwan, Germany, you name it! She even swallowed her pride, when he cold heartedly took up a bride. Miss.AMAT showed her grace as she always did.

Her grace could not be told in a simple paragraph. She was there for him when he bought a house for his bride; she was there when he became a dad -- not once, but twice. Never she complained anything to him, and about him. Such was her grace.

She couldn't blame him at all. Why would she? Of all the men she was in a relationship with, Sharma for his part made sure that Miss.AMAT was always fine. He checked with her late in the nights, on the weekends, and always during the vacation when he was with his wonderful bride. She was his altar-ego, a virtual Geisha!

It is not clear, whether Sharma tried breaking up with Miss.AMAT before. If it had ever been, as a general public we might never know, or never we should intend to. It would an infringement to Miss.AMAT's privacy.

A representative for Miss.AMAT issued a following statement on behalf of her, confirming the split:

"It has been a wonderful and a great 15 years of being together. Even though he had a family of his own, the open relationship we had was very special. Thanks to his bride for letting me have the time of my life. The greatest thing I will always have is that, in those fifteen years, he always thought about me. Many a times he had made me feel that I was the special woman who needed the very special care, love and devotion. That feeling is great! Thank you Sharma. I am not going anywhere. I am always here."

-Rajesh

A day to remember

Ever since I got married, the advent of May every year always makes me nervous. Will I remember it on time or not? is the question that bogs me in the early days of that month. As most of you might know, May 21st is Shree's birthday. Though she simply expects a wish, shamefully that itself has become difficult for me to do nowadays. Wait a minute, I do have my excuse. Her birthday falls on the same day as many hollywood women celebrities, and that being the case how come a humble guy like me could remember so many birthdays on the same date. I do have to make some compromises here and there, isn't it Ms.Cher? Hope you liked the flowers from this fan of yours!

I recently read a joke that the best way to remember the wife's birthday forever is to forget it at least once. Trust me, the joke must have been written by a person who has known me. Plagiarism!

I did in many ways to remember: Google calender...check. Making Akshur remember..check. Brainwashing Arhath to keep repeating "May...Amma..." "May....Amma", again and again,...check.

While the scaffolding was being secured to keep me from falling on face, all of a sudden the crook in me wanted to do something different. Nothing romantic like going to an underwater restaurant or anything - just different in my own terms.

This is where the problem was. I am so screwed up that I could think nowadays only in terms of exotic running spots - the places I always liked to run. You would have figured out that, being on a date with me is not an option for a gourmet food. You just have to be satisfied drinking gatorade, and taking water from the tap.

Suddenly, I hit on an idea!

How about, take a day off a week before, and just take Shree to the place where I have always wanted to run! That seemed like a pretty cool idea. I know she was in to hiking, and I took that angle to offer a bait. I was very much worried about her commitment to the Veggelution (plant huggers), but some how my desperation won her attention.

Once I got the approval, it took me an hour to find a place. It was the "Quick Silver" county park in the Almaden valley. I made sure that my manager knew that week on Friday I won't be at work - by Monday itself.

My selection of that place was based on a lot of different factors:

1) Just 15 miles from home, and the evening traffic coming back is not an issue.

2) That place is so isolated that, if I get beaten up due to disagreements, there won't be anybody around to see that.

3) "Quick Silver" was an historical mercury mining site. If my teeth got broken in the brawl (with Shree you got to take all kinds of precautions), I might be able to find some "quick" fix with some left over mercury amalgam.

4) This could be used as a scouting trip to locate nice places and houses, for my wonderful friends RajKishore & Raji, when Raji gets to go to the IBM research labs there.

It was all set. On May 14th, send A & a off to school and get us going on a hiking trip to "Quick Silver". I prayed all along that the plan should not turn in to a "Quick Sand" of hope by letting it slip away. The night before when Arhath coughed a little, I ensured that he had enough dosage of benedril drops.

The last time I technically had a date (only date?) with Shree was the day before Akshur was born. Yep, it was the movie, "Last Samurai". I know, how much of disappointment she had when I turned down her request to invite her parents too.

Fortunately, things worked as planned. At 10 AM sharp last Friday, we were at the county park. Of all the trails, we opted (actually, I had never been on that) a trail that was a decent 9 mile round trip.

Ten minutes in to the hike, Shree got a phone call from one of our friends - well, I don't know whether that caller still considers me a friend after all the furor I created this week - anyway, let us not get lost there, and for now keep it as, one of her friends. Interestingly, the cell service was amazing in this part of the valley.

The gradient of the course was decently high enough to make the hiker take deep breathes. I was doing a pretty good talk and hike, thanks to my recent hill runs (I never waste a moment to glorify myself, aren't I?) and Shree was having a pretty heavy breathing.

So, imagine this scenario.

Caller: Shree, are you free to talk?

Shree (with heavy breath): Go on.

Caller: Why are you breathing this hard?

This is where it gets interesting. Whenever Shree wants to say something, the context or the actual matter is told only at the end. The listener usually has to wait till the whole sentence is completed. I don't know where from she got this trait, but I believe, it could be due to too much reading of Mahabaratha, where she must be fascinated by the most quoted Yudhistar's shout,"Aswathama Hathaha....Kunjaraha." (Google to find the facts about this.)

Thank goodness, she is not in to designing the IP routers, where the concept of "cut through routing" is very important to know the destination of a packet before even it is completely received.

Also, I can't image her writing a screenplay for an adult movie. It will have so much of foreplay that the actors will simply go to sleep before the main play.

What was I saying? yeah, about Shree's traits. Let us continue with the caller and Shree's conversation.

Caller: Why are you breathing this hard Shree?

Shree: Rajesh has taken a day off today.

Heavy breathing - 10 AM in the morning - kids off to school - husband taking a day off. Do the math.

For the love of God, I was couple of feet away and was shell shocked. What would the caller think of? It is quite natural for anybody to let their imagination run wild. I know the caller is a major contributor to the Facebook, and I could see the joke running all over the globe, even to the extent of getting translated to the masai people in the African Savannah.

Caller: (Showing class) Is he also at the veggelution?

The caller still must have wondered about the heavy breathing part. Must be heavy lifting of some kind going on, the caller might have thought. Luckily, the call ended quickly and we continued on the hike.

It was supposed to be a relaxed, 9 mile, uphill hiking on a hot day. I know how much time, effort and desperation I had put in to make this happen. Being a runner who does everything solo, I took a lot of precautions, but forgot some simple, simple things, such as, taking some kind of solid food (energy bars, trail mix), sun screen, sun glasses and obviously water!

If we had passed out over there, probably somebody would have made "Marocharitra II". Nothing like that happened, and we were able to complete the hike in 4 hours.

Four hours of solitude...with my wife! I screamed, "I passed...I passed, the test!" Still not good enough when some of my good friends could do 8 hours or more.

The lunch around 3 PM, at Subway (they have avocados too) was awesome! With tiring legs, and burnt out skin, we looked at the watch and said, "Rush! it's pick up time!"

Despite all of the miscues, it was nice, to be honest.

So today, no cakes, no gifts, nothing...just this note.

Many, many happy returns, Shree.

Our little Oedipus

In my deep slumber, I felt a sense of movement next to me. I knew, I was in the NREM sleep mode, because, I could sense that my eyes were not moving inside my eyelids. For any woman who has gone through 2 pregnancies, having a peaceful time for herself is only at the sleep time. I was getting disturbed.

A bit annoyed, I raised my head slightly from the pillow, and asked, "Pal, are you Ok? Why are you getting restless in sleep? Leg pain?" It was to my husband, the guy who was crouching, tumbling, stretching by annoying me.

"Mmm...nothing. " That was his brief mumbling reply.

"What?" I raised my voice not clear of what he said.

"Nothing..."

If it was nothing, then what is the point in waking me up too. This is not first time, not the second time, but this has been happening for quite some time. Almost every night, for the last couple of months, him, despite being an athlete who takes care of himself very well by having regular fitness regimen and good eating habits, has not been sleeping well.

Out of concern, I had asked him to check with a doctor sometime before. He never followed up on that. His reply was, "These doctors would do a brain scan for nothing. I don't want to be a guinea pig for their fancy theories." Men, and their stupid ego.

I had asked him to try yoga too. "My long distance running is my meditation, my yoga. You can't top that," was his answer.

I know, next year he is turning 40. Thought, it could be the reason. I have read, for men 40 is the age that brings excess of fear of everything - right from their fear of "performance" degradation (what? from 5 to 4 minutes?), to the morbid fear of their significant other leaving them. Oftentimes I have noticed him feeling uncomfortable when I am around college going boys. Honestly, I feel good, trust me. I have even teased him about "Rocky the rock climbing dude", and his strong "pumps", and "Sam the surfer dude", and his 6 packs.

Stop it, woman! Stop it! Don't get carried away. Sorry, let us focus on my husband for now.

Kids growing up, thinking about college, still worried about the next month's paycheck to pay the home mortgage, adds up too.

If he does not tell me what is bothering him, I cannot help him. The truth is, if I don't have a good night sleep, then my morning schedule of waking up early and getting the breakfast and lunch prepared for the kids, in addition to having my own personal time to do cross-words would all get spoiled.

"Do you know what time it is?" He was busy searching for the cell phone we keep on the window above the bed's head stand. It was on my right, and so he was trying to reach it without realizing that his knees were pressing hard on my tummy, putting more pressure on my otherwise peaceful bladder to force me go to the bathroom.

"Could you stop it? Why do you want to know the time now? It is not even 2AM. God's sake, get a tranquilizer to knock yourself down." The AK-47 in me just opened with a barrage of bullets.

Silence. He laid on his back, knees crossed as if he was in "ready to sit" posture, eyes staring at the ceiling. A sense of guilt, typically unusual for a woman of my age, occurred in me. Something was really bothering him, but he was not telling me. Anyway, within minutes I was back to my NREM sleep.

"Mom..Mom..." I heard a kid's call from the room across ours. I knew, it was our younger son who is just months shy of his terrible two. I didn't have to check the time. It must be 3 AM.

This wake up call started a few months back, and from the initial days of "you go first," and "I will go next time," bartering talks with my husband, it has come to "honey, hop on over here."

Within moments, I heard the noise as if an army of little soldiers is marching in to our room. He came, he saw and jumped right in between us. As in any military expedition, similar to the occupying forces, our little one created space by simply kicking his father out further to the left. He made sure that his treasure, that is me, is far away from the innocent man who seemed to have possession of me, until a few moments back.

In our queen size bed, having a little intruder in between, who was so determined to make more space for himself, left my husband no choice but to leave his "queen" to the conqueror.

To lay his claim, our son grabbed my hair and got cozy with me. I have been conquered. My poor husband could do nothing but to stake out in the couch. There had been times, attempts were made by "man" to quell the conqueror, but the "war cries" left him cower in fear.

Like the defeated army, all my husband could do was to mumble in protest, saying, "You, little Oedipus brat! Never drive your dad away to get to your mom!"

I couldn't feel sorry for my husband's restlessness anymore. I have my next phase of the REM sleep to worry about.

And he made it! Yes, 40 it is!

Ladies and Gentlemen, and all the other creatures - living or dead - movable or immovable, of this wonderful planet earth, our man, Rajkishore Govindu took his foot steps in to the new era of his age in the early hours of April 1st, 2010.

He turned 40, amidst a small group of friends, who braved the cold rainy night to drive to his place. Obviously, the love of his life, the shining light of happiness that makes him have a peaceful sleep every day - the finest bottle of wine - was also there to share the momentous occasion of his life. Dear goodness, how could I miss out his dear wife in planning this pleasure ride?

More than us surprising him, we were surprised that he was fresh, and busy at 12AM, looking at the flight schedules for the upcoming Las Vegas trip. As planned when we knocked on the door, his lovely wife was waiting for us - may be anxiously - perhaps, to get the celebration done with, so that she could get to celebrate his special birthday later! Perhaps, their private celebration was already over by the time we reached there, more to add suspicion to his fresh and brisk outlook at that wee hour.

We wanted to get him all the gifts that would be needed for his age: rogaine, false teeth, walking stick, probably Preparation-H and the most importantly, a magnifying glass. Rationality in us told that we don't have to rush for them, as anyway we could gift them as and when it is needed by him.

All we got for him was a cake, thanks to the selection from a specialty bakery in Santana Row, and a greeting card. More than him we all had a lion's share of it.

I can't stop myself from thanking me, for safely transporting the 3 different individuals - who have much greater commitment to their families - from their homes and back. Trust me, the cake gave me such a sugar boost that I slept only on and off on the way back driving!

In the forthcoming days, probably in months, it would be nicer to see what kind of transformation a man goes through in his 40s. I am not far enough, and so I am looking for a beacon of hope, a light, that would help me walk the same path in the near future.

Many, many happy returns, young man!

Negative Split

"Negative Split" is a term frequently used by the long distance runners, when they cover the second half of the run faster than the first half. It is a big confidence factor for all the runners, and they all love to do that. My objective here is to talk about the aspects of the other "split" - the one that breaks marriages. Sometimes just like the "negative split" for the runners, it could be beneficial too.

We are all simple human beings. Some of us just see the near future, some are blessed to have the ability of seeing beyond, but the rest - the ones like me - simply live the moment. In our small and happy circle, we do tend to take things for granted.

I see some friends of my son's seeing their parents getting split. Some have reconciled and got back, but most of them simply moved on. Everyday while dropping him at school, I happen to meet one of those parents, talk to them about kids, life and so on. Once in a while - not too often - I get the message "we are moving our own ways now," from them. They don't have to tell me that personal information. I am just another person whom they meet for 5 minutes every day. I guess, being in a society that has become more open we tend to open up to everybody. Hard to deny, hearing them always gives a sense of sadness in me. I imagine telling myself, "gosh! not them."

It is always interesting to get a woman's perspective, and so I often bring it up to see what my wife has to say. Her first reaction would always be, "You don't know what happened. Do not speculate. She is a good acquaintance, and so he is. Enjoy your 5 minutes of talk and just drop it there. Their child is our son's friend. That is all."

Interestingly, I am not that straightforward. I do tend to get disturbed heavily and try to reason out.

Me, being a mature adult who thinks he can understand the dynamics of the human nature, believe in the ideology that no matter what, every human being has the fundamental right to live a happy life. Still, don't know why do I get disturbed, that too for someone who is most of the times a simple acquaintance?

Oftentimes, I see a big sense of conflict in me: I am fine with non-Indians getting split, getting remarried, moving on, etc., But I find hard to have the same parallels drawn on Indians. After all, we all are human beings, aren't we? Aren't we all entitled to the same degree of happiness as other nationalities do? So, why is this mental dichotomy in me? Is it due to my cultural background? Is it due to my archaic notion of what a marriage should be? Is it because, I grew up in a society that put all the blame on women for marital problems?

Ironically, most of us - particularly me - still have the habit of mocking at celebrity marriages and their splits. I always say, "yeh! should have seen it coming." Shame on me, when the NBA player Lamar Odom married the reality TV start Kloe Kardashian last spring, I waged a bet with my office colleagues that the marriage won't last till the "All star" game (half way through the NBA season). Getting married to an active professional American athlete is a call for destruction. Everyone knows that. When they managed past the "All star" break, I bet again for the break by the "end of NBA season".

So, is it fun to see celebrities split and not the others? Guess, the proximity factor of knowing somebody close and personal has a much deeper impact. Nowadays, it is good that I have started feeling sorry for the celebrities too. My reasoning: What if one of my acquaintances is a celebrity?

Having seen my relatives going through hell, just to play fair to the so called " institution of marriage," now I realize that was all a crap. While growing up, I have seen husbands being abusive to the extent that the food had to be served at a particular temperature, the vegetables had to cooked with a certain degree of crispiness etc., Food plates used to get thrown in the face of their wives for not meeting their taste standards! Pathetic to witness those. The only support the wife ever had was a murmur that she simply had to adjust for her man's needs. Bullshit!

Had these women of those days had power, financial independence and acceptance as it exists now, they would have simply walked out of their marriage. Sometimes just out of curiosity, I have asked my mom the same question. Would she have walked out on my dad, had she had the choice? Never got a clear answer though.

I am not feminist. Don't mistake me. I might be the number one male chauvinist you could every see. But, the facts are the facts. No denials on that.

I remember talking to a school teacher from my neighborhood once. She said, "the saddest days are the first days at school after the summer break. It is more disturbing to see two different addresses for the kids. Man, it kills!"

I have always been curious about how a child of my son's age interprets things. Sometimes he is simply fascinated that some of his friends live in two homes: dad's and mom's. In addition, they get two sets of everything: bikes, toys, skateboards etc., Sometimes his friends having two sets of step-siblings to play with in their two different houses. My son is so naive, that he finds it more charming! Couple of times he has asked whether me and my wife could live in separate houses too!

This brings an interesting, but a logical question.

Are there any married couples at all who are immune from getting split? The rational mind in me says no. I know for sure that me and my wife, no matter how much of understanding, love, respect, and tolerance we have for each other over these years, we are vulnerable too. No shame in me saying that. It is just a practical statement.

Seeing our son's friends' parents, the "what if" factor occurs to me too. The first reaction to the very thought was always scary. It's natural to shut out saying, no never, not for me. Should never let that happen is always the reaction. Over the time, interestingly, after seeing many cases, I do have open discussions on this "what if" matter with my wonderful wife. If the "what if" becomes a reality, how should as couples we handle that? Trust me, having discussions like this takes the scary part slowly away and turns in to thinking of much more meaningful practical solutions. Does it mean that I am suggesting this topic to be brought up just for the sake of having a discussion? No, definitely not. But I find there is nothing wrong either.

To me, the "what if" could be defined in many ways: "what if" one of us die suddenly? What kind of emotions would you go through then? If it is better to be mentally prepared to handle the death part, then the other "what if" in my opinion is no different from that.

Talking openly about what we might do if one of us dies, or if we simply split up, has honestly given me a new perspective of how I see my marriage: happiness is the essence of all and, we should strive to maintain it without going insane. If we start viewing the marriage from that perspective, the word of split does not scare us at all.

After all, having open talks about split in marriage need not be negative. Just like the "negative split" for the runners, it could be beneficial to strengthen it more.