Based on disturbing thoughts I had while attending my brother's passing out parade in NDA.
Release Date - TBD
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Dettachement - The biggest Virtue
Note - I am not discussing advantages of dettachement here, since those are pretty well known, and would make my write up insipid. But if readers are interested, I might add an optional para on the same. I will discuss my way of dettachement and some really difficult question in the process. Also, how n why we may imbibe this in our way of life. Release date 7th Dec 2009.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Dancing to the tunes - "Latika tu mere saath dance karegi na"
She is bound to, even if she doesn’t wish to, wish is too wishful for her. Her life is anything but gentle to her. So rephrase your question Jamaal. Don’t ask her; command her to dance to with you. Your manner is so clement to her. She has to get used to a much harsher way of life, where no one would sprinkle any mercy on her. Her Father wants to sell her. Her biological and step mothers are exchanging blows. Police, media, everyone wants a piece of her. And in all this, she has to witness this all. Though in fiction, I can see you as her only friend. So, have pity on poor soul and get her prepared for what vile lies ahead.
Rubina Ali, the pride she brought to country, everything is on sale for 1.8 Cr.
Her father clearly seems to lie, when he says the voice is not mine and is doctored. Believe me, this insidious maneuver was not by him, rather he was aping notorious celebrities of today, Varun Gandhi being the most recent one. Rubina’s innocence instead stood as evidence against her father. On camera, she can’t daresay anything against him, since she was parroted the imperative. But off camera she said, “I don’t know what happened. While returning my father asked me if I would like to go to Saudi Arabia (at least Rafiq knows about free will, the wretched soul should have known of age limit involved). I said yes. They also spoke of getting passports for themselves.”
A holiday is the least you can ask for, when 1.8 Cr are swinging in your kitty. After all this is all she is meant for, as one of her relative is quoted,” Bhala dudh dene wali gai ko koi bechta hai kya? (Does anyone sell a cow that can still be milked”?)
Irrespective of her sale status, one thing could be clearly ascertained, that is what she is being perceived as.
This is the Plight of Rubina Ali and the criticism her family is going through.
Let’s flip the coin once. Let’s ask some questions.
Why was the sting operation carried out in the first place?
What do you expect out of hunger-marred slum dwellers? They don’t get education. They don’t get teaching of rights n wrongs. Being Human, they are prone to be fallible, as fallible as we are. Its just the decision Rafiq has to make was big. Bigger than him, his aptitude, his edification, his education and his economic condition, which overtook him.
We were there to criticize him, but without any cognizance of ruthless conditions he is living in. I know we would have never done such a thing, had we been in his place.
But let’s be in his place with his ability to think, with his insecurity for food, with the extent of hygiene he lives in. We can’t, so let’s not be him.
Here, I want to condemn the British tabloid that carried out this shameful act.
Does there capitalist mindset is so rapacious that they can exploit and debase to any extent they greed? Is there circulation is so vital that they can make a poverty porn for it?
The movie was not, but this incidence is a poverty porn.
You hang a starving dog with nylon cord and make it stand on table. Get a delicious chicken tangdi for him, knowing the dog is bound to jump and hang itself, and when the dog does that, you shout Greedy Dog!!. Here, it isn’t the dog but, someone living in much ghastly and callous circumstance, may I use the word “a Slumdog”.
Rubina Ali, the pride she brought to country, everything is on sale for 1.8 Cr.
Her father clearly seems to lie, when he says the voice is not mine and is doctored. Believe me, this insidious maneuver was not by him, rather he was aping notorious celebrities of today, Varun Gandhi being the most recent one. Rubina’s innocence instead stood as evidence against her father. On camera, she can’t daresay anything against him, since she was parroted the imperative. But off camera she said, “I don’t know what happened. While returning my father asked me if I would like to go to Saudi Arabia (at least Rafiq knows about free will, the wretched soul should have known of age limit involved). I said yes. They also spoke of getting passports for themselves.”
A holiday is the least you can ask for, when 1.8 Cr are swinging in your kitty. After all this is all she is meant for, as one of her relative is quoted,” Bhala dudh dene wali gai ko koi bechta hai kya? (Does anyone sell a cow that can still be milked”?)
Irrespective of her sale status, one thing could be clearly ascertained, that is what she is being perceived as.
This is the Plight of Rubina Ali and the criticism her family is going through.
Let’s flip the coin once. Let’s ask some questions.
Why was the sting operation carried out in the first place?
What do you expect out of hunger-marred slum dwellers? They don’t get education. They don’t get teaching of rights n wrongs. Being Human, they are prone to be fallible, as fallible as we are. Its just the decision Rafiq has to make was big. Bigger than him, his aptitude, his edification, his education and his economic condition, which overtook him.
We were there to criticize him, but without any cognizance of ruthless conditions he is living in. I know we would have never done such a thing, had we been in his place.
But let’s be in his place with his ability to think, with his insecurity for food, with the extent of hygiene he lives in. We can’t, so let’s not be him.
Here, I want to condemn the British tabloid that carried out this shameful act.
Does there capitalist mindset is so rapacious that they can exploit and debase to any extent they greed? Is there circulation is so vital that they can make a poverty porn for it?
The movie was not, but this incidence is a poverty porn.
You hang a starving dog with nylon cord and make it stand on table. Get a delicious chicken tangdi for him, knowing the dog is bound to jump and hang itself, and when the dog does that, you shout Greedy Dog!!. Here, it isn’t the dog but, someone living in much ghastly and callous circumstance, may I use the word “a Slumdog”.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
my brush with......
“Will this train stop at Kalyan?” I asked my co passenger who was of around my age.
Though, I prefer not much talking on short journeys as this just because I don’t lend my busy ear, stuffed with earphones, for conversation. I allowed this gentleman a little, since his mild demeanor seemed amiable, yet unobtrusive.
“No. It won’t, you should have taken the next train which was just 5mins after this was”, he replied.
I had to go to Mumbai for this non urgent, long pending and thus irksome task. Getting my gorgeous Timex Indiglo, whose screw got screwed with my mellow handling.
On july 26th , that’s 3 days before my birthday, I gave my gorgeous for repair. Yesterday, when I went to get her back, it was 18th April. That is nine months, enough to get another baby Timex. Not that I don’t have friends at Bombay to get the watch back, but it just that they were too busy with their lives and couldn’t extract 2 hrs in 9 months to do the filthy.
Now, saving a day wasn’t looking like a temptation anymore to defer or delegate the task.
“Holy shit man!!! , so now I have to go to Dadar and come back here, that is another 1 n 1/2 to 2 hours”. I had to reach Pune back the same day, since there was a bash in the offing. As a friend from one of my group was to leave town. Rather, the whole group was to disperse sooner or later, as most of them were MBA students and there course ended last week. So, a final get-to was more than perfunctory and a final blow-out was more than must, before they beat retreat.
“There is another way”, said the concerned co passenger.
“What?”
“The train gets really slow on the Kalyan Platform, you may jump if you wish”
Wish? I would fucking love to.
Damn, it will save a solid 2 hrs for me. That is substantial.
I woke early at 6-30 am, its really early by my standards. Having slept at 2-30 in the morning, getting up with dawn is beyond any punishment for me.
I made myself a cold coffee, cleared bathroom and by 7-30 was ready for the circuit.
Waking Gurneet up at this point of time was racing Hero Honda Splendor against Kawasaki Hayabusa. But, since I had to borrow some money from him, splendor has to win. This episode took another 15mins and at 7-45am I was kicking my bike, throttling accelerator and bringing engine to life.
My train was to depart at 7-50 am. Thus, what I was left with were another 5mins. After 6mins, I realized that you can actually cover a distance of 7km in 6mins. After another 1min from parking I was at Pune platform staring at my train, which stood still even 2mins after its scheduled departure. And departed 3mins later at 7-55am. Jai Ho!! This is something I adore about Indian Trains, they ardently follow my punctuality standards.
“Sure man”, I said, and was on the toes for the action, without knowing what is yet to follow would massacre a lot in me and be the genesis of germ I earnestly needed to have.
“Excuse me, would the platform be at this side”, I asked the group standing at the gate
“I don’t think so”, replied one of them.
“Wait. This is the side”, he added, after having looked out as he hanged on the gate and popped his head out in the direction of station.
I wrapped the earphone over the Ipod, checked my cross bag and was ready for action.
“Just let me pass”, I said, as I was approaching towards the threshold of the gate and so was the platform from other side.
Pune- Mumbai train route is one of my favorites and especially I love it during rains, when Lonavala and Khandala mountain pass are at zenith of their beauty. Being a shutterbug, I enjoy capturing their marvel in my D-70, my first major buy after I joined HSBC. I have a good 500 MB collection of green plush sight of valley. One special view is when lots of small falls are created through the vents in mountain. White falls between the green turned rocks, under grey clouds swelling with more water to pour down and the endless abyss underneath. It looks so breathtaking and just complete. I dream if I could fly out in that rain , jumping through the rocks, dive down into valley and bounce back to vertex. Whoa!! The feeling is so amazing when I could stare at this sight and could lost to my thoughts.
But in summer, the route sucks as bad as any other around the region. Abyss were no longer beautiful to me. Whole sight glares your eyes out with brightness. Sweat dried with hot wind, made me feel so clumsy and queasy, that I slept on the way and let “the three musketeers” rest in my bag, which I incidentally brought to pass the time. I woke up around an hour later and stuffed my ear with Ipod. The co passenger offered me water, whose name I didn’t bother to ask, as anyway Kalyan was almost there.
And the track paved way for Pasteur, followed by some poles and heavy electrical giants, grass again, that soon converged to an ascending cement structure which metamorphosed to “The Kalyan Platform”
“It will slow further”, said the philanthrope, after having made way for me.
“more?”, I asked seconds later.
“JUMP, this is it” he said.
Oh by the way slow by their standards is a speed around 25kmph. With my left hand clenched to Iron bar handle beside the gate and legs readied to run, I did the evitable!!.
Soon I was running on the platform with left hand still clenched to Iron bar.
But Wait!! To my horror, it was the train drifting me to run, I was just flying and grounding my feet alternately. Added to that, the train was slowly catching on speed.
(To get the real time experience you may fix 20kmph on your treadmill and jump on the ground. You would get the taste)
I realized this and unclenched my hand & let the train go.
Instantly, I was prostrate on the platform, rolling around my body, head too close to “the now passing train”, and we both in motion and close to each other. I could clearly hear the sounds from the tracks, Heavy wheels trampling them, drumming them almost in unison, but sound that was never so piercing and fierce before. And it was just a matter of time before cracking of my neck could be the part of that sound. I couldn’t ascertain whether my roll was approaching the sound. Rolling brain seldom thinks and mine was no exception. But soon the rolling stopped as I forced myself back on feet.
There are moments when atheist like me, dare using term such as “divine intervention”. I would use it now, sitting on my bed, staring out of window and writing this experience down. Back then, I was in no conscious understanding of any such salvation and was trying hard to come in terms with myself.
Some instance happened with me 51 days before, I was too shy to discuss it with anyone and only a counted a few knew about it, which I am not going to discuss here either. Nevertheless, it had tormenting effect on me lately. The cause of pain from that episode flashed in front of eyes, suddenly relieving of its tumultuous effect. This feeling was most liberating experience I ever had. My mind relaxed with sigh, first time in the past 3 weeks. Making me realize that this is just one life, which could have very well ended now, and there are things more significant, that flashed simultaneously. Could I be so reckless to the responsibility I have towards my Family? This is the question I ask myself now, back then it was just sea of feelings I was swimming through. No resolution, no thoughts, just an attempt to get in touch with real.
Suddenly my Inside was feeling hotter than the summer heat; there was a feeling of restlessness in me. I looked myself around, there were no injury, no bruises, not even a scratch. I dusted off the jeans, hands, back and my bag, reebok was looking clearer again and so were the people around.
Soon there was commotion around me. I looked up to find a Ticket Checker approaching and demanding to see my ticket at the same time, there were two behind him whom I would notice later. My hand reached almost mechanically to my right side back pocket, got my wallet out, rummaged through the wallet pockets, shuffled between the cards & money , and produced the ticket.
All this while, I wasn’t thinking anything, because my mind was happy to have freed itself from a feeling so excruciatingly painful and was sensing freshness that perhaps years of meditation could have attained. I was sane again. I accepted that I like her and would live with this, but not as priority. I experienced detachment, a possession disciples of Lord Krishna urge one to have, in order to make oneself free of worldly pain. My mind experienced that ultimate enlightenment, for me it was that.
After the ticket was produced by me, TC took a close look and returned it to me.
He was saying something I could not understand, but it was around, why did you do that? What if something would have happen to you? It was matter of few hours. What your family would have gone through?
All this while , I wasn’t speaking anything. Imagining, the could have been shot to my head. As I dreamt, a mark appeared on right side of head. I slant shape, just above the eye. The mark was thick, dark red with blood. This was the only place I could see blood at. Rest, there was no blood, neither on platform, nor in my body.
It seemed as if blood was sucked out by train, leaving eyes wide open, face still and torso motionless.
“Sit down for a while, you will feel better”, said someone from the crowd, whom I couldn’t see. This was music to my ears and they were thanking him. I was tempted to sit too, but decided against it.
Suddenly, I looked at my hand, thrust with ticket I gave to TC earlier. I put it back in my wallet and in right back pocket. There were two more TC’s, whom I noticed now, behind the one I was dealing with. They were saying something, to which I gave a deaf ear.. Soon I was on my feet, craning around to look for the bridge and leave the sight, which has all the eyes looking at me.
Here, something happened. A funny sound came from a funny thing. This was a man painted black by almighty and Cherry blossom polished over it, for that extra shine. He must have been around 30 -35, Wore a shiny white shirt and I loved the contrast. He has black moustache, surprisingly visible despite the texture, and sparse hair (on head of course). He signaled me to come to him and I couldn’t help striding to something so amusing.
First, he said something in marathi (people often mistake me as Marathi), to which I could offer a blank expression. Which was followed by -
“Do you understand marathi, hindi , English anything?”, he commanded in hindi. And I was suddenly scared, if he is some one from some law establishing body and enthused to take a wholesome action against me.
“Sorry? Couldn’t get you”, I said, trying to understand this new development.
“Do you understand marathi, hindi , English anything?”, he repeated.
To which I asked, “what is it about?”.
Having been through a state of self realization, to have faced “the three musketeers”, apparently not from musket, checking my ticket and hurling their unwelcome gyan session, now I am facing the inevitable, “some law enforcing officer”. This was enough to scare the shit out of me and suddenly I was frowning at every word dropping out of that mouth under the moustache. I swear and God knows I had no recollection of how his teeth looked like. My numb mind was anticipating so intently and first words to follow were.
“what do you do ?”.
“why?”, I asked, much to my astonishment, without even knowing how that word dropped out.
He started “you jumped there so carelessly, you must be having people at home….blah blah”.
Again? It looked like another gyan session to me, where
Philosophy and bio- chemistry were up against each other, but bio-chemistry,” here one in my sucked up brain”, looked so severely fragile to its adversary and was in no mood of brawl, that it decided to give a walkover and abort the vital.
All of a sudden, Mr. Inevitable looked so very evitable. My right eyebrow raised, right leg was unexpectedly pressing ground between us, to which left leg conferred with utmost respect and shifted back with an angle meant to lift right leg and press the ground towards the bridge & I was on my way without any last glance to Mr. Now Evitable.
Though, I prefer not much talking on short journeys as this just because I don’t lend my busy ear, stuffed with earphones, for conversation. I allowed this gentleman a little, since his mild demeanor seemed amiable, yet unobtrusive.
“No. It won’t, you should have taken the next train which was just 5mins after this was”, he replied.
I had to go to Mumbai for this non urgent, long pending and thus irksome task. Getting my gorgeous Timex Indiglo, whose screw got screwed with my mellow handling.
On july 26th , that’s 3 days before my birthday, I gave my gorgeous for repair. Yesterday, when I went to get her back, it was 18th April. That is nine months, enough to get another baby Timex. Not that I don’t have friends at Bombay to get the watch back, but it just that they were too busy with their lives and couldn’t extract 2 hrs in 9 months to do the filthy.
Now, saving a day wasn’t looking like a temptation anymore to defer or delegate the task.
“Holy shit man!!! , so now I have to go to Dadar and come back here, that is another 1 n 1/2 to 2 hours”. I had to reach Pune back the same day, since there was a bash in the offing. As a friend from one of my group was to leave town. Rather, the whole group was to disperse sooner or later, as most of them were MBA students and there course ended last week. So, a final get-to was more than perfunctory and a final blow-out was more than must, before they beat retreat.
“There is another way”, said the concerned co passenger.
“What?”
“The train gets really slow on the Kalyan Platform, you may jump if you wish”
Wish? I would fucking love to.
Damn, it will save a solid 2 hrs for me. That is substantial.
I woke early at 6-30 am, its really early by my standards. Having slept at 2-30 in the morning, getting up with dawn is beyond any punishment for me.
I made myself a cold coffee, cleared bathroom and by 7-30 was ready for the circuit.
Waking Gurneet up at this point of time was racing Hero Honda Splendor against Kawasaki Hayabusa. But, since I had to borrow some money from him, splendor has to win. This episode took another 15mins and at 7-45am I was kicking my bike, throttling accelerator and bringing engine to life.
My train was to depart at 7-50 am. Thus, what I was left with were another 5mins. After 6mins, I realized that you can actually cover a distance of 7km in 6mins. After another 1min from parking I was at Pune platform staring at my train, which stood still even 2mins after its scheduled departure. And departed 3mins later at 7-55am. Jai Ho!! This is something I adore about Indian Trains, they ardently follow my punctuality standards.
“Sure man”, I said, and was on the toes for the action, without knowing what is yet to follow would massacre a lot in me and be the genesis of germ I earnestly needed to have.
“Excuse me, would the platform be at this side”, I asked the group standing at the gate
“I don’t think so”, replied one of them.
“Wait. This is the side”, he added, after having looked out as he hanged on the gate and popped his head out in the direction of station.
I wrapped the earphone over the Ipod, checked my cross bag and was ready for action.
“Just let me pass”, I said, as I was approaching towards the threshold of the gate and so was the platform from other side.
Pune- Mumbai train route is one of my favorites and especially I love it during rains, when Lonavala and Khandala mountain pass are at zenith of their beauty. Being a shutterbug, I enjoy capturing their marvel in my D-70, my first major buy after I joined HSBC. I have a good 500 MB collection of green plush sight of valley. One special view is when lots of small falls are created through the vents in mountain. White falls between the green turned rocks, under grey clouds swelling with more water to pour down and the endless abyss underneath. It looks so breathtaking and just complete. I dream if I could fly out in that rain , jumping through the rocks, dive down into valley and bounce back to vertex. Whoa!! The feeling is so amazing when I could stare at this sight and could lost to my thoughts.
But in summer, the route sucks as bad as any other around the region. Abyss were no longer beautiful to me. Whole sight glares your eyes out with brightness. Sweat dried with hot wind, made me feel so clumsy and queasy, that I slept on the way and let “the three musketeers” rest in my bag, which I incidentally brought to pass the time. I woke up around an hour later and stuffed my ear with Ipod. The co passenger offered me water, whose name I didn’t bother to ask, as anyway Kalyan was almost there.
And the track paved way for Pasteur, followed by some poles and heavy electrical giants, grass again, that soon converged to an ascending cement structure which metamorphosed to “The Kalyan Platform”
“It will slow further”, said the philanthrope, after having made way for me.
“more?”, I asked seconds later.
“JUMP, this is it” he said.
Oh by the way slow by their standards is a speed around 25kmph. With my left hand clenched to Iron bar handle beside the gate and legs readied to run, I did the evitable!!.
Soon I was running on the platform with left hand still clenched to Iron bar.
But Wait!! To my horror, it was the train drifting me to run, I was just flying and grounding my feet alternately. Added to that, the train was slowly catching on speed.
(To get the real time experience you may fix 20kmph on your treadmill and jump on the ground. You would get the taste)
I realized this and unclenched my hand & let the train go.
Instantly, I was prostrate on the platform, rolling around my body, head too close to “the now passing train”, and we both in motion and close to each other. I could clearly hear the sounds from the tracks, Heavy wheels trampling them, drumming them almost in unison, but sound that was never so piercing and fierce before. And it was just a matter of time before cracking of my neck could be the part of that sound. I couldn’t ascertain whether my roll was approaching the sound. Rolling brain seldom thinks and mine was no exception. But soon the rolling stopped as I forced myself back on feet.
There are moments when atheist like me, dare using term such as “divine intervention”. I would use it now, sitting on my bed, staring out of window and writing this experience down. Back then, I was in no conscious understanding of any such salvation and was trying hard to come in terms with myself.
Some instance happened with me 51 days before, I was too shy to discuss it with anyone and only a counted a few knew about it, which I am not going to discuss here either. Nevertheless, it had tormenting effect on me lately. The cause of pain from that episode flashed in front of eyes, suddenly relieving of its tumultuous effect. This feeling was most liberating experience I ever had. My mind relaxed with sigh, first time in the past 3 weeks. Making me realize that this is just one life, which could have very well ended now, and there are things more significant, that flashed simultaneously. Could I be so reckless to the responsibility I have towards my Family? This is the question I ask myself now, back then it was just sea of feelings I was swimming through. No resolution, no thoughts, just an attempt to get in touch with real.
Suddenly my Inside was feeling hotter than the summer heat; there was a feeling of restlessness in me. I looked myself around, there were no injury, no bruises, not even a scratch. I dusted off the jeans, hands, back and my bag, reebok was looking clearer again and so were the people around.
Soon there was commotion around me. I looked up to find a Ticket Checker approaching and demanding to see my ticket at the same time, there were two behind him whom I would notice later. My hand reached almost mechanically to my right side back pocket, got my wallet out, rummaged through the wallet pockets, shuffled between the cards & money , and produced the ticket.
All this while, I wasn’t thinking anything, because my mind was happy to have freed itself from a feeling so excruciatingly painful and was sensing freshness that perhaps years of meditation could have attained. I was sane again. I accepted that I like her and would live with this, but not as priority. I experienced detachment, a possession disciples of Lord Krishna urge one to have, in order to make oneself free of worldly pain. My mind experienced that ultimate enlightenment, for me it was that.
After the ticket was produced by me, TC took a close look and returned it to me.
He was saying something I could not understand, but it was around, why did you do that? What if something would have happen to you? It was matter of few hours. What your family would have gone through?
All this while , I wasn’t speaking anything. Imagining, the could have been shot to my head. As I dreamt, a mark appeared on right side of head. I slant shape, just above the eye. The mark was thick, dark red with blood. This was the only place I could see blood at. Rest, there was no blood, neither on platform, nor in my body.
It seemed as if blood was sucked out by train, leaving eyes wide open, face still and torso motionless.
“Sit down for a while, you will feel better”, said someone from the crowd, whom I couldn’t see. This was music to my ears and they were thanking him. I was tempted to sit too, but decided against it.
Suddenly, I looked at my hand, thrust with ticket I gave to TC earlier. I put it back in my wallet and in right back pocket. There were two more TC’s, whom I noticed now, behind the one I was dealing with. They were saying something, to which I gave a deaf ear.. Soon I was on my feet, craning around to look for the bridge and leave the sight, which has all the eyes looking at me.
Here, something happened. A funny sound came from a funny thing. This was a man painted black by almighty and Cherry blossom polished over it, for that extra shine. He must have been around 30 -35, Wore a shiny white shirt and I loved the contrast. He has black moustache, surprisingly visible despite the texture, and sparse hair (on head of course). He signaled me to come to him and I couldn’t help striding to something so amusing.
First, he said something in marathi (people often mistake me as Marathi), to which I could offer a blank expression. Which was followed by -
“Do you understand marathi, hindi , English anything?”, he commanded in hindi. And I was suddenly scared, if he is some one from some law establishing body and enthused to take a wholesome action against me.
“Sorry? Couldn’t get you”, I said, trying to understand this new development.
“Do you understand marathi, hindi , English anything?”, he repeated.
To which I asked, “what is it about?”.
Having been through a state of self realization, to have faced “the three musketeers”, apparently not from musket, checking my ticket and hurling their unwelcome gyan session, now I am facing the inevitable, “some law enforcing officer”. This was enough to scare the shit out of me and suddenly I was frowning at every word dropping out of that mouth under the moustache. I swear and God knows I had no recollection of how his teeth looked like. My numb mind was anticipating so intently and first words to follow were.
“what do you do ?”.
“why?”, I asked, much to my astonishment, without even knowing how that word dropped out.
He started “you jumped there so carelessly, you must be having people at home….blah blah”.
Again? It looked like another gyan session to me, where
Philosophy and bio- chemistry were up against each other, but bio-chemistry,” here one in my sucked up brain”, looked so severely fragile to its adversary and was in no mood of brawl, that it decided to give a walkover and abort the vital.
All of a sudden, Mr. Inevitable looked so very evitable. My right eyebrow raised, right leg was unexpectedly pressing ground between us, to which left leg conferred with utmost respect and shifted back with an angle meant to lift right leg and press the ground towards the bridge & I was on my way without any last glance to Mr. Now Evitable.
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