Now we have every friendly callers who call to ask credit card application.. and it JARS..

2:30 PM

TRRRING ( the phone rings)

Me: Am furiously trying to trying to figure out something in Dreamweaver to get something in shape.. and I say a hurried “lo ??

Manjit : Hello ??

Me : Yes ??

Manjit : Guess who ??

Me : *Blink* ( hate it when people call and ask guess who )

Me: What do you want.. and who is this ?

Manjit : I am Manjit calling from &&&& bank for a credit card. Have you had your lunch ??

Me : DUH !!!! @^%!@#&*$@&# ( what has lunch got to do with credit card ?)

Me: I do not want a credit card.

Manjit : No please dont keep the phone.. I need to know now if you have any credit card.

Me : Yes I do and I not interested in more..

Manjit : Please tell me the names of the credit card and the amount.. you hold it for..

Me : Me totally pissed.. by now on the verge of being very rude. Dude dont you get a message ? When I say I dont want any credit card, why would i want to share any info of the sensitive kind involving figures and money with you… DUH…

Manjit : ( now whining) but I have to fill this form. And you have to help me. Can I call you later..

Me: Slowly put the phone down.

On the same phone conversation note some wrong number stories:

Rocky has got a spate of wrong numbers coming in to his phone. He specially gets phone calls from North Karnataka.

in the beginning, he calmly used to tell them in English and in Hindi that is the wrong number.

Seeing that this has no affect, he has started to converse in Assamese with Kannada speaking callers and ait takes them off the phone is minutes..

Rocky’s friend Prasad who is very well versed with many South Indian languages also gets one call from one number very frequently. That caller is a truck driver and he keeps calling Prasad to listen to  him since he is his employer. Prasad tried talking to him all languages but to no avail. So Prasad has agreed to be the owner of so many trucks honorarily.

Everytime he gets a call :

Truck driver : Sir, I am in trouble. Police has caught the truck. What to do ?

Prasad : Really. Wait there for half and hour I will be there.

Another Call

Truck driver : Sir, we have a puncture, and the shipment will be late… and blah.. what to do ??

Prasad : Wait there.. I will be there in an hour..

One day, while Prasad was on his way from office he gets a call from the same guy. He picks up the phone and tells him “ dont worry I am on my way, wait.. ”

And the saga goes on..

This takes the cake..

Caller A : Is Mohan there ?  ( this has been going on for days.. and inspite of telling him that this is a wrong number he insists to speak with mohan.)

Caller B: Mohan ??.. he pauses.. Oh yes ..Mohan is dead….

Something to leave you by with :

I think we took it for granted and even in a lazy place like Bangalore, crime is waking up and well it will  take another period to time where humanity will learn to coexist with terrorism.

After a while it feels like I have journeyed back a circle from where I left Shillong.

Shillong was heaven till 1990 after which we saw the beginning of terrorism of the local kind. Believe, me it does not have to be AK 47 and all that. A decent gatherinf of mob and some spreading of terror is enough to let the citizens shaken.

We started having curfews after 6:00 and no one was allowed to go out in the evening.

Some days were black days where we were not allowed to turn the lights on and were forced to live in candle power or no power. If by chance the miscreants saw a peep of light, we would have showers of stones which would effectively destroy our windows.

Classmates became enemies and accosted their non localites friends and had street fights in the roads where the goal would be to hurt the boy and rape the girl. Carrying a knife and getting stabbed was common.

Then came the cheapest form of bombs which would involve only a bottle and petrol and a good aim and BANG you have a blast. As I said terrorism does not have to be sophisticated.

Brothers of different ethinicity who had food at the same table laughed at the same jokes now killed each other. There was only the vision of trouble making and a misplaced ownership of lands.

Nepalis were targeted where we saw from our veranda, in shock and terror how the women came out with their khukris ready to kill anyone who would come by their area.

So the miscreants lay in wait for the Nepalis, Bengalis and other non localites to jump on them when they stepped into neutral ground and killed them mercilessly.

Durga Puja time, a time of festivities became a time of tragedies, where petrol bombs would be thrown in cabs to kill innocent people.

Education was difficult with constant interruptions in the school to have is get out of school and go home. We had a bunch of boys come in and order us out in the middle of a period.

Tenants were tortured. Women were raped. Men were butchered. All for what.. Some misplaced notion of political ownership. In a land which was pristine clear with nature and peace loving simple homely people.

Extortions and daylight murders were common. While walking back home, it was not unusual to see a group of people carrying a bloodstained corpse. The next day’s newspaper would talk more gory details about it. It was an offshoot of the chaos that came to visit us.

Houses were burnt deliberately and there was no insurance for that..

Shillong is a small town and everyone literally knew everyone. And if someone was hit, we would inevitably know the people and the family who went through the tragedy and rally in support however we could.

The result of all was that most of us fled the beloved town to settle in different places in India and well the rest.. had to stay still they could come out. And well now though the terror has died down the trust and the feeling of belonging.. never can be regained.. no matter how much we try..

More than a decade later… : it seems that history is proud to repeat itself.. in a larger form and for what.. ??