Read on. You will be surprised to see what a bad day is all about. How many different things do you expect to happen in an individual's life in a span of 5 hrs ? My be I should rephrase this one as - "How many disjoint events do you expect to randomly happen in a causal duration of 5 hrs ?" Ah ! Now I sound more like a mature scientist calmly studying the controlled events throwing up uncontrolled cause-effect paired set in the Sample Universe with respect to time-space relationship than a whimpering child.
Last week I signed on for a local shooting championship, err, tournament. As luck (oops, sorry) would have it, an individual was allowed to participate in ONE rifle event and ONE pistol event. Of course, we are talking air-weapons here. Open sight was also a category. Since I had no "kaam-dhandha" the rest of the weekdays, I decided to opt for a weekday, thus allowing the college/ service -bound guys space on the 25th of Dec which happened to be a holiday (but, of course!). Just when I was about to turn in my completed form at my club, my wife called and said that she had arranged for a passport office appointment for our son's passport for the 26th. Now I tried to question why. My line of argument was that there was no need to rush that process up. As it is the passport was already expired - it wasn’t that it was on its last 6 months gasping for renewal or something. Plus there was no foreseen 'phoren' travel in next 3-4 months with kids' school et al. Nor was there any remotest possibility that we would be seeking out 'Maharajah's' service in May either. "But I have some time to spare on 26th of December. Plus the kids have holidays now. Later they might have to bunk the school." - My better half's half side of argument. I tried again - "But we could go for it in April-May next year when the schools close down for summer vacation. Why now? As it is due, to some reason or the other I have not been able to practice my shooting." Now most of the readers must either be married or know someone who has been married for an age, i.e. twelve years. So no brownie points on guessing where the conversation ended. I like a very obedient husband asked for the form back and scribbled a note on it requesting that the detail(s) not be kept on 26th of Dec but any other day would be OK. That evening more news was in store for me. My kids confirmed that they were participating in the housing society's New Year dance event and hence their practice would commence under the tutelage of their mother. I immediately saw a serious intrusion into my "home range" and that whatever practice I planned had already packed her bags and booked out for the X-Mas holidays.
On the morning of 25th, I called the organizers again and spoke to one of them. She very nicely and courteously confirmed both the details for 27th and asked me with a worried tone if the two - Open sight AR and AP - back-to-back would be OK by me. There was barely a slot on the 28th and 29th was the day of finals. Not giving it much thought I confirmed. A few minutes later due to some nagging and pricking sensation on the back side of my neck - you know, the one that sends just one drop of sweat bead trickling down your spine - I called, rather tried calling, my mentor, but he was now gone on his holidays coupled with his wedding anniversary with his family and was out of reach. I let it be. Surprising - for a guy who has seen all the five episodes of Final Destination - twice!!! That night, I asked my wife to gather all the paperwork necessary for the mandatory visit to the Passport Office the next day. The first sheet of paper left me spilt wide open - she had messed up with the Permanent Address! I men who messes up with your own permanent address? It so happened that my son's passport had Borivali address where we lived earlier. Though we own and still own that apartment, it's now let out on rent. We have since shifted to Thane. My mother stays at Prabhadevi - the address of which is my own "permanent" address and my passport having been renewed while at NJ carries my US address as the "other". My wife's own carries her maternal address though she's officially changed her name. Due to all this I felt my son's "permanent" address had been best left as Thane address where the apartment is owned by my wife and the phone line gets billed in my name. All we had to do was re-register the new information online and get the new printout and hope we would get the appointment for the same day. After trying to explain this to my wife for about 120-odd minutes without luck - we decided to scrap the appointment ad try out in April when the school closed down. I felt sad that I could have shifted one detail on 26th but could not and now the day was wasted.
On or rather since the morning of 26th the X-Mas cakes were doing their job nicely. I had "gas" problem. The problem was not of the Western flatulence type but of the Ayurvedic "waat" type. Right eye-lid kept fluttering and there was ache in the chest and tummy region; sometimes substantiated by throbbing aches in the right arm. Having purchased recently a book by Dr. Abhay Bung on his own cardiac problems and reading being WIP, I joked to my wife "Looks like I am heading for a heart attack." Nonetheless, in the evening my wife and kids decided to lock themselves in the bedroom for a couple of hours and give me my range for practice. 30 minutes of dry firing with AP filled me up with confidence. I then shifted to IHP 25 which I had hardly touched over last few months. The usual rigmarole started - which pellets did it fire the best? Diana Shot, RWS R-10 or GSmith Amateur? All along the sight adjustments shifted on - the rifle target!!! For some strange reason, I had presumed that OS was conducted on Pistol Target - the bigger target I was used to. The day I had submitted my form at the club, I checked with the range officer there and he smiled and told me in a most paternal voice that "No baba, the target for AR is always the same smaller one" - that prompted me to buy a 100 of those there itself. So there was I - between 2030 and 2200 of the 26th staring at the small scaled down version of the bull's eye - the calf eye, from my perspective - trying to see which pellet shot out the best from my IHP 25!!! Horror - Fright Night - totally!!! At 2200 I gave up and switched on the TV and there was my favorite hero (move aside Sunny Deol and Amir Khan) Anna Hazare already in Mumbai. He planned a 3-day fast at Bandra and police warned of traffic woes on Western Front - add to that he planned a rally from Juhu to Bandra, thus affecting the access to venue of competition for guys coming on road from Central side like Thane.
Then came the D-Day. Dec 27th i.e. today.
Originally I had planned a visit to the club earlier still, see my mentor and sort out the rifle-pellet-zeroing issue. I didn't get any message back from him and due to the news seen the last night, I decided to start early and skip the visit to the club since my first detail was at 1100. The kids were out of bed and wished me luck. My son even proposed to "see me off" in the parking lot. I was thrilled. So I got into the Santro and turned on the ignition. Coughing, sputtering, cranking - but failing. The car engine refused to kick in. I glanced at my watch, got out of the car and opened the hood to see the internals. I cleaned off the battery leads, shook a wire or two here and there and tried again ... and again ... and yet again. No luck! My son was tensed - "Baba, What happened ?". "Nothing", was my reply, "stay calm. Such things happen, especially on cold mornings." Boy! Was I glad that I was among the lucky ones in India who had TWO cars! Old cars but still, TWO of them. So I got out of Santro, shifted my guns etc. into the Indigo and turned on the ignition. As calm as the Ocean... and equally terrifying. No noise whatsoever - at all! If the Santro had coughed, the Indigo didn't even whimper or whisper. Absolutely dead. So I went back to Santro and re-tried every gimmick in the book. Same results. Come on - we stay in hotter clime of Maharashtra not up North where the cold has to play truant. And yet...! So I whipped out my cell and called my mechanic, who "could not come then as he was already en route to the Hyundai workshop at Andheri where he works. But he assured that he would send someone." Which actually translates to "Try your luck elsewhere." So I called up my scooter mechanic who also assured me that "he shall try to send someone." Then it struck me. My inheritance from my late father - Bajaj Chetak 2S 1990. The AP sat snugly inside the sac on my back but how does one fit an AR? That too with Anna Hazare in town and possibly of having to go through several road blocks - police - no use flaunting even a covered AR. Now why did I specify "police" road block? You see in MMR (Mumbai Metropolitan Region) we have several types of roadblocks. There are those generated by MLA, MP, Corporator, RTO, Mumbai-MH Police etc. etc. The first three refer to uneven roads and potholes thanks to the corrupt politician under whose "DUTY" these roads come in. State Highways and Roads under the MLA, National Highways and arterial transport under the MMRDA (Federal level; hence the MP), local roads under the Corporator and so on. Then of course there's the RTO - sometimes doing an effective job of catching helmet-less two-wheeler riders and sometimes issuing challans but mostly letting off with receiptless fine of half the amount. The same goes for seat-belt-less (PRIVATE) car drivers or those VVVIPS (Greater unimportance than Rajnikant or Chiranjeev) who must absolutely speak on their cell phones while driving. After all 2012 is fast approaching and these souls if at all, shall save us from damnation. Then there are of course the MH-Mumbai police blocks which end up stopping dark-tinted glassed vehicles or those sporting stickers with Bow-Arrow or Lotus Flower - probably since the Slap-Watch (with 1010) is currently in power in MH and India. One thing must be credited to these police blocks - they improve your driving skill. These guys arrange the barricades in such a way that you practice driving like they show in Police Academy. Lots of people have complimented me on my driving talent - but y'all know the secret - the secret of my driving skills, I meant - not Victoria's! So having explained the topography of MMR roads, let me get back on the topic at hand.
I thought and thought and thought. Son was of course giving me his share of inputs. "If police stop you why not show them the Navy sticker on the scooter and tell them you are from Jawan?" "If you get late, will they punish you by asking you to stand outside ? If so, call home and I shall tell them how both the cars did not start." "Do you really have to go? Why not stay at home and all of us can go to the (Korum) Mall and watch a picture (movie)?" etc. etc. Then it struck me - I had a bungee cord which I had purchased in the past when I planned to go on a Kokan tour riding my Chetak. Chetak gave some problems then and I took the car instead. But I still had the cord. Now where was it? Ah! I remembered. It sat on the PC table right in front of my nose all along. So I went to the front of our building and shouted my wife's name and asked her to throw the thing down. Some advantage of staying on the first floor. Neat catch - neither of the two hooks made so much as even a dent in my palm! OK - so the luck (oops, the word again) was finally turning?! I went back and after a few attempts managed to tie the AR *tightly* (that was a circus since the bungee cord is elastic) on the left side thanks again to the sari guard that my dad had installed and that several times I thought of taking off. My son now with "Don't worry I shall get the helmet and the scooter papers" rushed home and got me the things. I started off; delayed but not too much out of control.
Two hundred and fifty meters down the road my wife called - she wanted to know all that had happened in past 45 minutes in details and volunteered to take an unplanned leave and sit behind holding my AR. "I am fine.", said I. I really was touched with her gesture. With no more time for emotions, now rode off. Meanwhile I had made a quick mental note of route to take. Eastern Express Highway would be flooded as everyone shall start relatively early. Plus the road blocks - ALL of them. SO I rode off towards Wagle Industrial Estate planning to take the relatively slower but moving Lal Bahadur Shastri Marg, aka "Old Mumbai Agra Road". As I turned right towards Bradma Co., I saw a group of college-looking gals and guys crossing the road - immersed in some private joke and intending to share everything with oncoming traffic. I slowed down with enough notice for them to pass and them all crossed over to my left. I was about to accelerate when one duckling left behind yapping on cell phone made a sudden sprint from my right to left. Again I braked - this time hard and moved to the other side side of the divider, in path of oncoming truck. I cut sharply back to the left to avoid turning into fresh pizza, but this babe and the Gods and her “oudhni” (dupatta) had other thoughts. Her dupatta slipped from her left shoulder and the babe with cell in her right tried to catch it with her right hand and as a result it slipped off completely. She now stopped, turned around and bent down to pick it up - totally oblivious to my scooter or the truck in the other direction. This was when I was swerving in to the left sharply. Again I stomped hard on the brake, the truck did the same and all her friends ended up either shouting or screaming as per their sex. No time to stop and give her my choicest expletives. As a matter of fact I was born in the times of equality - not chivalry. So I treat all the sexes equally - even when dispensing of the choicest words.
I made a left and rode towards Teen Haath Naka. At passport office I saw a rickshaw pull to the left and a guy get off. A gal was waving and shouting frantically "Tata – Bye-bye" and the dude crossed the road towards the right. A quick sighting revealed a car coming in from the left, another Maharashtra "shaashan" vehicle with red light on roof from the opposite side turning to make a right and this auto ready to pull out. CAUTION!!! Just then this SOB (Son Of Behenji) actually turned back to answer to his sweetheart's tata - right in middle of my path. Screaming brakes with the rear part skidding towards this unfortunate soul and the scooter now conked off. With my left I caught hold of this Romeo and with sweetest voice possible asked him if I should seperate his family jewels from him and hand over to his girlfriend. He could then try to do "Tata-Bata" to all the girls then. The auto stopped his babe shouted an apology - then I became aware that this dude too was mumbling some akin to an apology and I let go. Road rage had almost claimed its latest victim - ME. After that the journey was without any incident. I actually made good time and was thankful that I had the Chetak so I could slip through nooks and crannies.
Without incident that is, till I reached mid-way of Vikhroli-Jogeshwari Link Road. There at Sher-e-Punjab signals I halted at the red light, just before the "stop line". From my left some honcho drove in a Honda City. He had probably read the newer version of Shakespeare "All the world's a racetrack and you are merely Narain Karthikeyan..." So he decided to nose 3 feet beyond the stop line and in doing so his Honda's right wheel went over my left foot that was resting down. Quick thinking, changing the "support" foot and subsequent damage was avoided - surprising I felt no pain. But then a few minutes later I developed a "catch" on the left hip. The toe next to little finger was feeling a bit funny inside; but no pain. I tried to resolve the "catch" on the fly but then the right side developed a similar "catch". The catches were indeed catching a bit too fast! So I pulled up on side got off and eased my waist by shaking it a bit and shaking a foot at a time. I emptied my pockets into the rack in front of me. The catches disappeared only to reappear the moment I turned left on the Western Express Highway. So I rode like many women ride - both the legs flinging on the side rather than seated on the floorboard. Finally I waited at the Andheri signal. I looked up and saw that a new flyover was getting ready inbits and pieces and a couple of ready made segments were suspended there on huge cranes. I knew with the events so far, there was a 99% chance of them coming down on me so I stayed put. Now that I had some time, I decide to stand up and stretch my body a bit. I stood up with pain, gritting my teeth and twisted at waist. The guy who had crept in next to my right was suddenly scared and backed off with "Arre paisa hi to maangaa." I looked at him with confused stare and saw that he was a eunuch (chakka). Then realization struck me - with my expression of pain and the tight teeth and tensed body he must have thought I got off the scooter to give him a sound beating. I could not help smiling but the dude didn't bother (with) me again.
I finally made to the venue at 1055 - 5 minutes before the official commence time. I took up the allocated lane # 6 ad realized that the pellet-zeroing issue was yet unresolved. I had all the three tins of pellets in the bag. Then I remembered my mentor's words - "In any competition, always use R-10s." But that was with respect to air pistol - this was air rifle. What the heck - chalta hai!. Being a right hand shooter, I noticed that though weight was being put more on right side, left side hurt. Then I also realized that my shoe did not get enough grip on the floor. I remembered only last week or so, I had spoken to my wife about "plan to get new set of shoes". Final Destination 1 through 5!!! The event went on listless and lackluster. But then AR was not my forte - AP was. I noticed that the neighboring guy in lane # 5 had problem with his target pulley and its strings. My own card holder was loose at its screws. I tried to tighten them; without luck. Bad shwo finally came to an end. All throughout I had barely shown any rhythm or technique even to convince my own self. I gathered my things up and awaited my second detail - the Air Pistol. It was slotted right after at 1230. Air Pistol turned out to be a disaster right fro the word Go. I realized that I had lost my stance and balance of body. The slight shift in weight to the back ; i.e. the left foot now, caused pain in the hip and the left foot. I could not hold my sight alignment for more than 3-4 seconds and if I rushed through the shot there it was a bonafied disaster. Of the N number of shots on the four sighter cards only one hit the #10. Then I started my record shots. BTW, the lane given to me this time was the lane # 5. (Final Destination) The pulley made a ruckus of noise. It reminded me of the diesel pumps and machines. My first record shot hit a 9. As I pulled back the card the pulley went flying to the remote corner of the shooting hall beyond lane # 10; the card lay midway the lane with the strings flaying helplessly beneath it. I sat on the chair and watched the venue dude retrieve the "fly wheel pulley" and repair my card holder. That is when I knew - this was not my day. With only 4 # 10s and a plethora of hopeless shots, I headed for my lowest scores this year.
After the match I tried calling my friend and mentor to apprise them of what happened but the Airtel service had decided to join Anna Hazare with their No Work. No Service. Later my friend did confirm that Airtel network was down all through the day. I got through my mentor finally on Dolphin and he advised me to go back home and let him know when I reached. Rahu - Ketu - Mangal- Shani were all aligned against me today and he was worried; I was frustrated. I wanted to end 2011 sweetly but the Greek Gods had other things in mind.
