The Sentimental Idiot !

“Put your hands back inside!!!”. My father yells at me from the driver’s seat. Mildly startled by dad’s sudden reaction, I stop surfing the wind outside our car. He masterfully makes another sharp turn on the curvy road leading us up the Western Ghats. It’s early in the morning and my view of the beautiful valley outside is obscured by the fog. Dad takes his gaze away from the rear view mirror for a second and seizing the opportunity, my hand starts creeping up the window frame. “You know this car has a side mirror too, right”? Dad asks me in his peculiar stern yet steady voice. I pull my hand back in. The automatic windows of the car go up and he turns on the child lock. Dad’s instant remedy to my disobedience might seem appropriate for a toddler, but I was about to turn 27 in less than a month that year. It didn’t matter, within the confines of the family car, Dad is boss, end of story. “He started doing that a few years ago”. Mom adds to the imp...

I tap my feet when I’m nervous. Just because I try and give it a rhythm, doesn’t mean that those around me like it, most of the time, they dont. On those occasions where I can’t make noise, I tend to move my fingers as though I were masterfully playing a piano while I watch the tendons across my wrists move in tandem. But on some days, no matter how hard I try to distract myself, nothing seems to work. That was exactly how I felt at my first job interview waiting all by myself inside a board room. The carpet on the floor muffled the sound my feet were making as tried in vain to find a position that was comfortable in my chair. Almost immediately after I settled in, the door opened. Dr. Singh didn’t seem very impressed as I stood up to shake his hand, nonetheless, I didn’t let that assumption cloud my excitement. He didn’t say anything as h e glanced through my CV.  It was just one page, remember, this was the first time I had ever applied for a jo...

“Do you think Neppo is dreaming?” My brother asked me. Sanjeev George has never been interested in sports, but what am I complaining about? At that time, even I wasn’t into soccer. Every now and then though, some things happen that make the whole world pause and take notice. South Korea’s dream run at the FIFA world cup of 2002 was one such event, and we were glued to our television screen with millions of other people when they took on Spain in the quarter finals that year. The game went down to the wire, ending with a controversial 5-3 win in penalties for the hosts. But here, my brother was busy carefully observing our pet dachshund's unusual body movements. “Are you listening man”? He asked me, visibly annoyed by my apathetic response to his canine sleep analysis. I turned my gaze for a second from the television to look at the 8 th wonder of the world Napoleon 'Born-Apart' Senior lying on the verandah of our home in Kerala. His eyes were cl...

My brother is responsible for getting me hooked on to a number of things. From TV shows and different genres of music, to the NFL and Ethiopian cuisine, Basil George has impeccable taste and he is my go to guy when life gets boring, and/or when I am in need of money. Many years ago when he brought home a cassette tape of Metallica’s live performance with the San Francisco Symphony, my non-identical twin Sanjeev George and I were still getting over our love for hard rock, which by the way was courtesy Basil as well. Barely a month before this he had introduced us both to 'Bon Jovi' and 'Def Leppard'. I won't forget how the three of us sat around our home theater system, which was basically an old Sony car stereo with a couple of cabinet sized speakers, holding our breath not sure what to expect. Three weeks later we graduated from the School of Rock and enrolled for higher education at the University of Heavy Metal. I could tell you that the r...

Radio in India was stuck in limbo for the longest time.   All India Radio, more popularly known as Akashvani-the national broadcaster dominated the  air-waves  for nearly half a century.   Although both my parents recount listening to their respective Murphy radios amongst their most precious childhood memories, growing up I rarely tuned in, except of course for those 'once a blue moon' occasions when the TV wouldn't work and a cricket match was being played somewhere. Not to discount anything from the station whose line-up was unique and entertaining in its own way, there was something missing. New music was rarely played and upcoming breakthrough artists were never featured.   Then in 2001, Radio City came to town.   I kid you not, the days that followed were dominated by an unprecedented newfound interest in FM radio.   Newer stations blossomed throughout the country, on-air advertising became the norm of the day and Nokia literally seize...