volvo bus diary

Saturday saw an extremely cold morning. maybe its a sign of the times.my wife's office in all their dilligence planned a get together meet for employees and their clan in a resort in the wilderness near to hassan. this is a ironic statement as if we wanted seclusion, why a resort?

Anyways, mine not to ask why. we got up at a crazy hour. son who normally gets up at 4:30 am decided that he was rip van winkle and wanted to sleep longer. we rushed through empty roads and a few stray dogs to find we were the earliest.

Bus ride was un eventful broken sporadically by enthusiatic folks who wanted more participation from people in songs etc. since I valued my sanity I prayed fervently for a comet or lightening to come through the roof and vaporise the cretin who wanted everyone to sing.

Son slept most of the way. wife decided to catch up with her pals on whats happening where scene.i pretended to sleep so that I did not have to consume the crisps passed around at regular interval or make banal conversation (e.g - so your name is vivek and you are kamala's husband?".). Someone please kick me - I am getting far too old and far too crabby.

We reached the place, which turned out to be quite nice and looked secluded. but no man is an island by himself as from nowwhere sprung Prince, an extremely repulsive dj, vj , public pest all in one, who decided he had to shout through the sound barrier to make him self heard. He apparently was the guy who made sure guys were welcomed and would stick to us like porous plaster over the next 2 days.

To cut along story short and not make the blog like a films division documentary, i will summise and say a good time was had by all. the high point being a visit to an old derelict 16th century portuguese church by the river side. it was like a ghost city and im sure there were voices from the crypts which were drowned with cries of " I want more cutlet"or "Can I have an extra coffee please".I went to the altar which had stood the test of time, dusty roads and moronic modern day lovers (the ramu loves smitha type of idiots).Iam sure when I die and if I go to the pearly gates, I will find one of those grafitti etched in the wall.

A sleep rejuvenated son decided it was time to give his old man some exercise and ran like Forest Gump. Whatever extra flab I had gained through cholestrol ridden food was all exercised and i could have competed with all the artificial beauty ladies competing in shanghai. a better part of the night was spent around campfire with wife and many bottles of the demon drink. morning arose too quickly and strange rhumba sounds reverbrated in my head. After a mammoth orgy of a breakfast,we came back to civilisation. The bus driver had very resourcefully got his hand on a bollywood potboiler and insisted on playing it full blast.

I must add that my son slept through it all. I now plan to invest in a bus and keep it at home so he sleeps longer on weekends and not get up at unearthly hours.
PS - There were also morale building group activities but I read Paul Coelho and some books on code breaking anagrams and did not take part in them much to wife's dismay.
PPS - Discovery of the week - unattended plants on country roads look gorgeous unlike gardner attended plants at home !!!! (maybe there's a moral somewhere...)