Polar Bears, PAN Cards, TV's and Hysterics

“The year’s at the spring,
And day’s at the morn;
Morning’s at seven;
The hillsides dew–pearled;

The lark’s on the wing;
The snail’s on the thorn:
God’s in His heaven,
All’s right with the world.

- From the 'Pippa Passes' by Robert Browning

I've somehow always found those lines a little irritating... a bit too optimistic, to say the least. However, that said, let us begin.

There's this cartoon character on Nickelodeon, a polar bear, called Backkom or something. The poor bugger always manages to screw up everything he does, always gets frustrated with life in general, and runs around grunting his anger like a loony. I sympathize with him. Reminds me of myself. In the sense that I can understand his feelings, not in the sense that I run around grunting with frustration. Wellll.... not too often anyway.

So I thought I'd count all the 'bright spots' in my life currently. I am now (FINALLY!!) the proud owner of a fully functional TV. Which brings up the travails of getting it fixed. Getting those guys to come and fix it was slightly more difficult than it would have been, to get Britney Spears to pass off as Einstein (intellectually I mean... not that lookwise is any easier, come to think of it. Einstein looks so much better, don't you think?) Anyway the only problem with the TV now, is that the pictures come in three bands of colors. The top one third is orange, the middle is green, and the bottom is in normal natural colors. The TV as usual functioned well until the technicians were around fixing it (it had totally gone on strike earlier and refused to function despite the several bribes we tried to offer it), and the moment they left, gave an evil burp and switched itself into the tricolor mode I've just described. It was all I could do stop myself from beating my head in, in frustration. Well initially, having your TV populated by people with green faces and orange hair and tomato ketchup that is a brilliant yellow is a novelty. But it wears off, you know. You start yearning to watch some normal people in normal colors. I understand that you can't see normal people on TV, but hell, is normal color too much to ask too? I've lodged another service complaint. I expect someone will turn up to fix it sometime, in the next two years or so.

I'd gone to get my PAN card re-issued, having lost my earlier PAN card, and my eardrums, when Mrudula heard it was lost. When she loses her temper they hear her in Delhi, in fact they hear her in North Bloody Afghanistan... whew! scary people - these wives I tell you. I mean 'wives' as in a general term. I'm strictly monogamous, I hasten to add. Anyway, after several desperate phone calls, I found a place where I could reapply for the card. This unique feat is made even more so, when you consider the fact that it was done while simultaneously listening to lectures on how a six year old would be more responsible. "Hah! I bet I can drink more beer than any six year old you know!" I didn't say. Somehow, my gut feelings told me it wouldn't improve the situation further. And while honesty forces me to admit, that it was my fault, modesty did not allow me to acknowledge it..Heheheh...(read: sheepish grin) The lady on the other side very considerately referred me to a site saar, where 'all' the details I wanted would be furnished saar. Now, I started getting a little suspicious - I mean things seemed to be going my way, which is a logical impossibility. Got onto the website, and yes!! I was on the right track.

I mean, with instructions like "submission of three documents from the Fourteen documents as mentioned below, provided one of the three documents is a photo identity document and atleast one of the three is amongst the documents indicated at (a) to (i) and a standard affidavit on non-judicial stamp paper duly attested by a Notary insofar as any of the documents refers to the address previously occupied by the applicant, along with sufficient documentation to establish the applicants current address" it couldn't have been simpler.

Got back to the dear lady and after twenty minutes of deep discussion, we arrived at what we mutually felt were the requisite documents. After spending these minutes in such highly rewarding intellectual conversation, she also very helpfully mentioned that they would remain open only for another half hour. In keeping with the situation, if I missed this days deadline I was in no position to go get it done for a week. So I bravely turned to Mrudula, told her that it would take a week for me to get it fixed, and when she didn't reply, equally bravely put on my clothes (my going-out clothes, I'm not crazy enough as yet, to walk around the house starkers. "As yet" being the operative term there) and headed to the PAN office like my ass was on fire.

After thirty minutes of travel (my goddam flat seems to be atleast thirty minutes from any goddam place in Bangalore - Some kind of space time dysfunction I think), with tension levels that resembled Indiana Jones' during the climax of 'Temple of Doom', I arrived at the place. Found out that the kind lady had been wrong about both the timings and the required documents. I still had around one and a half hours to go, but had to get two other documents. Another one hour of travel (up and down, or rather 'down hogi appu' as my auto driver put in Kannada). I was sweating badly and beaming with pride when I presented the filled up application and the documents at the counter. The man there didn't probably like my expression, or may be it was me. In fact he had the look of a person who didn't like human kind in general. With a gleeful expression, he informed me that I was two copies short of one document. Well, thats OK I thought, as I vacated the line which was of about twenty people behind me, I can get a photocopy.

Walked for about ten minutes and found a shop. "Xerox?" I asked him. He nodded and with a sigh of relief I gave him the paper and said two copies. It was when he said "No current saar, whole area, aff en hour to come back" that I lost it. I found myself in front of another photocopier shop, when I came to, took the photocopy and got the whole damn thing done five minutes before closing time. However any resemblances, between any pictures and news items about 'man loses it and runs down Old Madras Road screaming", and me are purely coincidental. I deny that it was me, under any circumstances.

Reminds me of four of my friends who had taken up a flat in Adayar ( thats in Chennai) and for no reason would suddenly go into fits of hysterics. Fine upstanding people I tell you, but one of them would arbitrarily start screaming "WTF???!!!" ( thats 'what the f*@#k" for all you politically incorrect people who think WTF means the World Trade Federation). This cry would be taken up by others until the whole flat would resound to their cries, which would have put the knights riding into the Crusades to shame ( At least in decibels, not in content. One sincerely hopes the knights didn't charge in screaming "What the f*@#k??!!" or for that matter "World Trade Federation??!!"). I can personally vouch for the fact, that being there during this bizarre expression of medieval hysterics, was not one of the more pleasant experiences of one's life. Especially for a calm composed person like me....

Sometimes I think Backkom has it easy.

How is it that all the couples in my apartment complex, all the 20 blocks, seem to be of the same age, look alike (fair, balding, middle age, IT type guys and fair, middle aged, IT type guys wife type women) and have kids of the same age ( fair, young, IT type guys kids type children) ? I suspect Mrudula and me have stumbled into some kind of huge lab where they're experimenting with all these people, using them as Guinea pigs I tell you! Mrudula of course thinks its either hysteria, after the weeks tension, or too much of Douglas Adams. I still have my own doubts.

Spent the weekend very very fruitfully. Sat at home, drank beer and watched TV. " God’s in His heaven, Beer's on the table, All’s right with the world." Yeah baby!!