Growing up in socialist India, there was always less of everything. Material things were for the capitalist. Take the case of marbles; There are several aspects; my mother considered it a waste of money; she thought it cost too much; and she believed that only bad boys played with marbles. On my side; I did not have the guts to ask for them. You know what happened to Oliver Twist when he asked for more!
So what did I do? When I had a chance I took 4 marbles from my neighbors house! You could replace took with stole and the previous sentence would be more accurate!
There are people who exhibit sangfroid after committing a crime. Our politicians are famous for that. Shame or fear are not words in their dictionary. I on the other hand lived with the fear of discovery and took care not to take the marbles out in front of anyone. This lasted several weeks when in a fit of bravado I played with them in front of my parents. And then came the inevitable question.
Where did you get them?
I was never good at lying and I did not fail this time either.
I got them at school
This led to the obvious follow up question
Where did you get it in school?
I told them about this hole in the ground in our school where one could dig and find marbles. Can you believe the crap of an excuse I made!
My parents naturally wanted to see this amazing hole and told me that they would be in the school the next day. Pretty much cornered, the sordid truth came out.
What followed was the climax; my parents outdid themselves. I have been beaten many times and in fairness to my parents, I deserved every one of them. My mom was good at it and my father had turned it into an art form. but never before was I thrashed more soundly.
The motto of this story to me is
-- Do not steal
-- If you steal, do not get caught
-- If you get caught, for god sake, come up with a better story next time!
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Sunday, December 12, 2010
My car runs on water
I purchased my first car in 1989. I got it from a guy who after graduating from masters program and getting a lucrative job in Santa Clara, decided to go for an upgrade. It was a 7 year old car of indeterminate color. You could call it gray. Of course that was not the real color, it was probably silver. For reasons unknown; probably acid rain; the paint had been stripped clean showing the metal in many places which gave the car its ineffable complexion. While I lived in the Bay area, I did not talk much about my car. I had a beat up Civic, others had a cool Mazda Miata. My car had indeterminate color, other had a bright red.
In short, I had a mutt, they had a pure breed.
Then I moved to Detroit for graduate school and it was here that my car and I came into our full potential. Most of the international student population did not have a car and had to walk to the nearby Kroger in cold weather; whereas my roommates and I would go out to Dearborn, Michigan to shop. Every weekend we would go out to the suburbs. Although we did not have much money to spend, thankfully gas was under a dollar! We would go to the mall and look at all the clothes and electronics we could not buy and come back. Spending 5 bucks at McDonald's was out the question since it represented a substantial portion of my weekly grocery bill.
I may not have indulged myself, but I treated my car like a baby. I changed oil every 3000 miles like clockwork and rotated the tires regularly. My car was my asset. It was a status symbol. It represented mobility and aspiration that two thousand other students yearned for. I would tell everyone about the wonderful mileage it gave me and how it was all due to the care I took.
During the time I was engaged to Jannavi; I think it probably was fall of 1991; Jannavi, Girija who was then Jannavi's roommate, and I went shopping. On the way out Jannavi pointed out that the car was low on gas. I launched into my usual story of how well I maintained my car and capped it with a boastful sally - Don't worry! My car is so efficient, it would drive itself even if I fueled it with water!
Yup, I was proud of my car and you know the adage - Pride goeth before a fall.
As luck would have it, on the way back, about 2-3 miles from the campus my car coughed a couple of times and simply stopped running. I had the sense to put it in neutral and take it to the side. It was dark and trust me, Detroit in 1991 was no place to stranded at night. Jannavi, I could see, was furious. So I quickly opened the trunk, took out my gas can, and after telling the girls to lock the car, went looking for a gas station.
It is hard to describe Detroit unless you have lived in a city struck by industrial blight and mass exodus of its richer population. The road was dark. I had not realized how much a simple thing like street lighting transformed a dark and scary landscape into a reassuring one. Here and there a few shops held out like beacons of hope. Most others were boarded up with graffiti all over. Any that was not boarded had all its windows smashed. Empty lots were mostly filled with trash and broken bottles. The pictures you saw in magazines (this was before the internet) hardly did justice. The despair one felt in the air had to lived through to make sense.
On top of all this I was petrified both for myself and the two girls in the car whom I had left behind. I was also berating myself for my foolishness. Detroit after all was known as the crime capital in those days.
Luckily there are good people in this world. Some people like to help others. One such good Samaritan saw my predicament and gave me a lift to the gas station. To me it was like manna from the heavens. Someone had thrown me a life line and boy did I hold tight. The man not only waited for me to fill up gas, but also gave me a ride back to where my Civic was stranded by the freeway!
I was relieved to see both the girls safe. Now that my fear had abated, I was left with a shame and guilt for both my foolishness and boastfulness. Without meeting either of the girls eyes, I quietly filled up the tank and after thanking the man profusely, drove back to campus.
What an hour? I had lived and died a few thousand times during that time.
I had learned my lesson. Since then I have never been stranded.
I also learned another lesson. I never boast about the mileage I get. You know what a phenomenal memory some people have; especially when it pertains to other people's failures!
In short, I had a mutt, they had a pure breed.
Then I moved to Detroit for graduate school and it was here that my car and I came into our full potential. Most of the international student population did not have a car and had to walk to the nearby Kroger in cold weather; whereas my roommates and I would go out to Dearborn, Michigan to shop. Every weekend we would go out to the suburbs. Although we did not have much money to spend, thankfully gas was under a dollar! We would go to the mall and look at all the clothes and electronics we could not buy and come back. Spending 5 bucks at McDonald's was out the question since it represented a substantial portion of my weekly grocery bill.
I may not have indulged myself, but I treated my car like a baby. I changed oil every 3000 miles like clockwork and rotated the tires regularly. My car was my asset. It was a status symbol. It represented mobility and aspiration that two thousand other students yearned for. I would tell everyone about the wonderful mileage it gave me and how it was all due to the care I took.
During the time I was engaged to Jannavi; I think it probably was fall of 1991; Jannavi, Girija who was then Jannavi's roommate, and I went shopping. On the way out Jannavi pointed out that the car was low on gas. I launched into my usual story of how well I maintained my car and capped it with a boastful sally - Don't worry! My car is so efficient, it would drive itself even if I fueled it with water!
Yup, I was proud of my car and you know the adage - Pride goeth before a fall.
As luck would have it, on the way back, about 2-3 miles from the campus my car coughed a couple of times and simply stopped running. I had the sense to put it in neutral and take it to the side. It was dark and trust me, Detroit in 1991 was no place to stranded at night. Jannavi, I could see, was furious. So I quickly opened the trunk, took out my gas can, and after telling the girls to lock the car, went looking for a gas station.
It is hard to describe Detroit unless you have lived in a city struck by industrial blight and mass exodus of its richer population. The road was dark. I had not realized how much a simple thing like street lighting transformed a dark and scary landscape into a reassuring one. Here and there a few shops held out like beacons of hope. Most others were boarded up with graffiti all over. Any that was not boarded had all its windows smashed. Empty lots were mostly filled with trash and broken bottles. The pictures you saw in magazines (this was before the internet) hardly did justice. The despair one felt in the air had to lived through to make sense.
On top of all this I was petrified both for myself and the two girls in the car whom I had left behind. I was also berating myself for my foolishness. Detroit after all was known as the crime capital in those days.
Luckily there are good people in this world. Some people like to help others. One such good Samaritan saw my predicament and gave me a lift to the gas station. To me it was like manna from the heavens. Someone had thrown me a life line and boy did I hold tight. The man not only waited for me to fill up gas, but also gave me a ride back to where my Civic was stranded by the freeway!
I was relieved to see both the girls safe. Now that my fear had abated, I was left with a shame and guilt for both my foolishness and boastfulness. Without meeting either of the girls eyes, I quietly filled up the tank and after thanking the man profusely, drove back to campus.
What an hour? I had lived and died a few thousand times during that time.
I had learned my lesson. Since then I have never been stranded.
I also learned another lesson. I never boast about the mileage I get. You know what a phenomenal memory some people have; especially when it pertains to other people's failures!
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