Do I know whatitees?

Why do some people just stare at you while you are with them in an elevator?And I am talking men! And that too at 6:30 AM in the morning!

Why do they keep staring at you even when you look back at them?

Why do some people look at you while singing? I mean do they want appreciation for every line sung? Or are they just concentrating?

If it is the latter, why cannot they close their eyes? Or why cannot they look at a mirror? Or why cannot they look at the sky? Their pants? Arms? What am I talking about?

Why do some people ping you on chat, say just a hi – almost a dry, nonchalant, no-exclamation, doing-a-favor-on-you kind – and then, when you reply immediately with a complete opposite “Hey! How are you?” ,do not respond for an eternity?

And when they do, why do they say any or all of these – wassup / kya chal raha hai / aur bataa / hi / hey / / ? The last one was no response – eternity continues.

Why do some office colleagues come inside your cubicle when they want a break, and in spite of the fact that you are on a break yourself listening to some music with your headphones, will start a conversation with you about how the zipper on the company-gifted office bag, is actually of low quality? And then look at you for a response? And then when you have removed your headphones (out of courtesy – professional or whatever), will look at the monitor and ask which song you have been listening to?

Why don’t they take a hint and keep ambling around your cubicle trying to think of some vague topic to talk about, while you keep your headphones around your neck waiting for that nick of a chance to cover your ears?

Why does my subordinate keep calling me “Sir” whenever he passes by my cubicle, despite the fact that I have asked him not to? A million times!

Why do some people park their bikes, scooties, scooters in the area meant for my car? And why does the society watchman not watch all this? And why does he just smile back when I ask him to get off his chair near the society gate, take a stroll around and make sure that such mistakes do not happen with others as well?

Why do some people put their hands in their pockets and dance in front of a mirror while knowing that there are some people who may be watching them? And then pretend that they are dancing for the “love of it”?

Why am I starting to sound like Kareena Kapoor in the Airtel ad?

Why are you reading this post?

P.S : If you are reading, please do answer the question above by commenting here. Please do so, even if you aren’t.

P.P.S : I should thank all my reader, my innate sense of human behaviors, and that paper guy in the elevator who was staring at me while I was returning from my morning workout in the gym, for inspiring me to write this very introspective post. I only wish it was that girl in the pink sports T-shirt, instead, staring at me. I think I have fallen for her – spent 8 days already in the gym. 3 more months to go! Kamaan!

P.P.P.S : Why have I been using the P.S so frequently in the last few posts?

A long stretch of a well-laid out tar road. Well-lit, well-used and mostly abused, taking a beating incessantly, from blaring four-wheelers and speeding 2-wheelers to the ubiquitous “share autos”.

A road, named on one of the oldest religious places in Southern India, and what is today called a “Information Technology Highway”. Dotted with sky-rises and glassy exteriors on the one side and coconut trees with thatched roof huts on the other, lungi-clad fishermen on cycles to professionals in swanky automobiles, a posh shopping mall stands comfortably next to an unassuming wine shop – One of the great social levelers as one of my close friends had once put it – you would find feet clad in a pair of Nike’s as well as cheap worn-out rubber slippers in there asking for the same, sweet taste of sin.

Old Mahabalipuram Road – almost a conundrum in present times and yet comfortably stretched out, accommodating all it’s peccadilloes.

Amidst all this, sharing a small piece of land on this stretch, is a pink colored apartment. Yes, don’t rub your eyes; you read that right – Pink. Well, actually, it has 2 colors, but if you were to stand outside of it and stare at it for sometime, you would get the pinkcture. It is called “Best Homes”.

That was were I spent a time of my life.

A whirlwind. A tornado at times, a pleasant breeze otherwise.  Standing on a plateau. Greenery around. Arms flailing, free-falling to the ground. Comfortably numb, and sometimes uncomfortably dumb.

Some day I hope my vocabulary gives me the perfect word for that.

And amidst all this, a motley crew – characters I stumbled upon by chance and some, by choice. Characters I had never expected to come across. And yet, I did. As cliched as it is, it’s strange how life gives you what you need, when you least expect it. Mired in the chaos around, it’s only the dots that we do not see joining themselves for us.

Generous, fun-loving souls, each with a bone that sets them apart. One that is food for another post!

A crumpled 100 rupee note you find in your back pocket when your wallet is empty. The rusted key you find to the lock of an old trunk. A glimpse of sanity you find in a corner of your head.  Serendipity.

That was the time I had. The Chennai Times.