Ricebowl#108

I promised myself I would’nt edit this – since I’d promised earlier that I’d let the true emotion flow.
And when I looked around for inspiration – it comes from men who don’t even know me. Bon Jovi in the album ‘These Days’ and U2 from their Greatest Hits compilation.

Last night, like the other few, I have been looking for reasons to go back to my old abode. The Karama house, as we know it, is going to be gone in another (circa) one month. I have been fighting with myself to not feel the Fond-memories- sick- boy because they so resembled the teenagers on my Facebook. Moreso, Im a dad now to a baby with little feet and little hand and his own likes and opinions. Oh my. Still, I had to write this, since at least Bon Jovi and Bono wrote what they felt and the masses benefited – I knew I had to write and not edit..

Sherwell and I, after a brutal attack of Bed Bugs and inflicted by self guilt on living as paying guests  in the bedroom of a one-bedroom apartment of a single mother, child and grandmother, decided to move elsewhere in April 2009. This was in BurDubai – and we badly wanted to come back to civilization – Karama. I still remember the to-let board on which I called, begged, fought, pleaded. I ended up paying a bomb to get the house. Initially it was a change which was almost absurd. I had not lived in such a big place for over 5 years, and buy it was fun to call up each other in different rooms and let the feeling settle in that we were living in a One Bedroom apartment.

While the underlying reason for the move was for laying groundwork for the Sheryl transition from Bangalore to Dubai – but soon this place became a sort of hub for the gang. Should I even the say the gang included Bed bugs as well? Tony was instrumental in selecting the pots and pans, spoons and cups and glasses and the knives and even the mops and masalas and salt and what not. Now Tony has this Motherly air about him that makes most of the people think (even my wife) that we are gay. For one, he cooked excellent second only to Al Madaen’s Stuffed Porotta (note it is Porotta, not Paratha – yes it is).
Tony left for Australia a year ago, but he still has his doctor’s bills, pots and pans and even a black underwear lying about in my place. Ashley when he moved over, had to make space between three Keyboards, two guitars, one lead, one bass, and of course the drums and the PA and 7 red cushions, carpet and a broken sofa we inherited from Eloy. He thought it was a privilege and we said so be it. Evenings would bring with it Bibin, Sujith, Sony, Nigel, Diago and the rest of the gang who were instrumental in the global pollination of Mutated Bed Bugs. We would lay our spent bodies on Eloys cushions, carpet and Guitar covers and just enjoy the company of each other.
During practices, the Girls would come in with their ‘ah-this place is so stinky’ look. But man, we did jam loudly even under the constant threat of the Bald headed Watchman. And when the cans of Redbulls and Styrofoam tea cups piled over, someone would have to clean up. Me- who else – the owner of the house right?

Off for marriage and during that time the boys did a marvelous job of shining the place down. Down right to the loo and even being extra thoughtful by putting up my blue VIP underwear on the wall. This one was specially embroidered by my sister with my name on it – just in case I mistook Vinu’s or Chikku’s while in Bangalore – like we cared. Hah. Sheryl brought with her order and discipline to the house – and I’m not writing this under her threat. Marriage is a beautiful thing. Especially at 7pm when I come back from home for my cup of tea and a neat, gleaming home and a clorex smelling bathroom. Well what I had to give up was my aversion to the shades of pink, mauve, bronze, beige, siege, heather, sunflowerish, magenta, Ajanta etc and those supposedly happy and complicated colours. To be a husband meant to be more mindful about your better half (my wife, not the Kurzweil) and that meant I had to give up the Red Bull, the Pocari Sweat and the likes.
Yes, we even fought (of course). But as per the policy, we needed to make up by the time we hit bed. One of the side projects we had in hand in course of hitting bed was Pio. Little fellow was quite a catalyst to my self realization – some thing that is still in progress for me. All the time he was in the belly, he would kick, punch and claw at me from inside.

Pio was born on Oct11 last year and that was –

(my cursor blinked for a while and I know I am supposed to go on and not edit)

Pio was born on Oct11 last year and that was ‘a small step for man, but a giant leap for George Benny’.

Life has changed though and through,. From a reckless Bachelor to a Married Man to a Glazed-eyed Father. These walls have seen it all. Last night when I went there, the rooms were stripped bare and all that was left was junk from yesterday and the odor of the walls when I first stepped inside that place. After, begging, fighting and Pleading with the Real Estate guy and after paying up a bomb for the house. And I know I did right – because I not anything – I now know I was at home all along

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