There are some people on whom age and time are much too lenient. People who can shock others with their marital status or matriarchal status. While I admit that there are very few so blessed, there are some like the gorgeous Nadia Moidu who can still pass for a 25 year old, the ageless Nagarjuna who can make even his own son jealous, or the bubbly Sachin Tendulkar who looks super cute and delectable inspite of all these hours and years in the sun. Now I don't really care how old movie stars or cricket players look as long as they are the best in their trades.
I am one of those lauded ones on whom age has bestowed its graces rather abundantly. All through out my life, I have been attributed an age according to the formula,
Vidya_Age_Assumed = Vidya_Age_Actual + x, where x in { 2,3,4,5}.
Let me try to explain this phenomenon. I have a father who is at 6 feet and well built and mother who is just above 5 feet, slim and petite. Ideally I should have come somewhere in the middle, or better even, tiny like my mom. But I happen to take after my dad in a superbly mighty fashion which has made me a female specimen closing resembling an Indian weight lifter; a looming 170cms tall, a weight I would not want to disclose, broad shoulders and a healthy appetite(ahem). I am proud of it now, but there used to be a time when the shoe size of 9 and the dress size of XL used to prompt me to adapt saint hood, only because that particular category abhorred sandals and any white saari is always 5.5 meters long.
Talking about my mom, my darling gem of a mom, the society used to hate me for calling her mom. And so I did it with vengeance. In a textile shop, I would walk atleast 10 meters away from her and call her 'Amma' from that distance. The sales girl would look around to find someone appropriate in size to be my mother and failing to find any, would sadly look at me as if I am a retard fond of calling every pretty woman passing by as mom. As if that would make me give up! I would call and call until my mom awakes from her reverie in the world of clothes and apparels and acknowledges me. She always taught me to be proud of myself, convinced me that being big does not make me ugly, protected me from the embarrassment by explaining to everyone that I take after my father and I am thankful to her for all that!
There are a few memorable instances of my life that I would like to jot down. The first one was when I was 17, and was attending a wedding function. When I told the groom that I am attending St Peter's Senior Secondary School, he eagerly asked me whether I taught Physics or Computer Science. After smiling and explaining that I was a student there and not a teacher, I progressed to curse the couple that all the children born to them, whether male or female, would be atleast 6.2' tall, weigh a Quintal each and would have feet as big as a baboon's. Of course, I didn't speak this out and haven't checked on them to see if my curse really worked or not.
The next significant event happened in God's own IIMK. On the first day here, after dinner, on virtue of of having an unenviable geographic quotient and an equally proficient friend, Neetha and I got lost in the campus. Nevertheless, both of us being rather confident of ourselves, claimed that we can find the way ourselves and ultimately reached the exit. Help was imminent and we got it the form of a female going somewhere and who agreed to take us to our hostel. A few minutes after we started walking, the kind female asked if Neetha was joining the next day. Not to be left aside, I loudly proclaimed that I am joining too. And the look I got! Our guide gave me a top to bottom stare trying to find out if any part of me was young enough to set foot(or whatever!) inside this youthful, bubbling campus. Failing to find any, she gave a shrug which said it all. Back in room, we laughed about it for hours and I was amused how coolly I took it.
Its rather strange how you want to look grown up and mature at the age of 15, I remember draping myself in my mother's saari for the effect. Little do we know that most of us might want to reverse this effect about 20 years later and getting into a teenager's clothes, or applying the array of age suppressing creams would hardly help. Frankly, I fear growing older, solely for the reason that I don't know what awaits me at the other end of the road, but there are many around me who demonstrate through their lives that aging is a graceful process worth looking forward to, and a few white hairs shouldn't make anyone panic.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Saturday, September 17, 2011
A night to remember!
Durga thought her father was the most unromantic person on earth. That was until she met the man she was going to marry. She could not blame anyone for the choice, it was her own. They met on a matrimony site in the most traditional manner. The photos were hugely likable to each other and to add to the bliss of their parents, the horoscopes matched perfectly well. Contrary to the custom, they met each other in the city without the family interference. Durga was swept off her feet by the exceedingly handsome and charming man who waited for her at the other side of the road. She had no reason to believe that it was not the same with him. Their families were overjoyed with the relation the kids had found for themselves and in a matter of 2 weeks they got engaged. Yes, that was quick, but there were no auspicious days for the next 4 months of the year. Apparently, the families didn't want to leave two love stricken people in the city alone, without the bond of atleast an engagement ring!
That was 3 months ago. Soon after, Durga started having second thoughts. He was not the kind she had envisioned at all. True, she didn't want a man sickly in love with her, or obsessed with her every single action, she hated that kind. But she sure wanted someone who would surprise her with gifts once in a while, hold her hand while crossing the road, buy her dinner in a romantic restaurant or talk to her lovingly over the phone. This man was none of this. Once when she wanted to talk, he said his stomach was too full and so he cannot talk. Again, when she held his hand once while walking, he suggested that the physical effects of walking are better observed when you can move your hands freely. And on her birthday a week ago, he got too busy and didn't meet her to even wish her. OK, now these are all silly things in anyone else's view, but then Durga believed that these silly things are what added to the beauty of life. Things to remember in the long years they would be together, stories to giggle about in future and to share with the kids, such was the contentment that would have made her life perfect. Well, Durga just realized that with him, that was not to be. She was even considering talking to her mother about the difficulties in the relation though she knew that there was no backing off. Everyone found him to be perfect and called her lucky. And most of the times, he seemed to the genuinely in love with her, though the next moment he would do or say something that made her feel like a fool.
On the day which would later turn to their first night together, Durga was feeling uneasy since the morning. She was new to the city, the hostel food was still not a fond memory and she was terribly home sick. She was sure that the Paneer dish she had for dinner last night had not agreed with her stomach. Anyways, for the lack of anything better to do in the dreary hostel room and since the office rest room was a much pleasanter sight as compared to the one in the hostel, she went on to her office. The barrage started around 9AM during her daily status call when she rushed to the toilet. After 7 trips to the potty, she lost the count. Her stomach was as sick as her heart and she was truly a damsel in fluid distress! He called her in the morning, he always did that, a call that never lasted for more than 60 seconds. Unlike a cold or a headache, dysentery is not exactly the kind of disease that gets you the right kind of attention, yet Durga managed to tell him that her stomach was sick. He didn't sound sorry, neither did he make fun of her, worse even, he started advising her. He urged her to get Ginger or Tulsi tea that might solidify her bowels. Durga was angry when she hung upon him. Between 5 and 6 in the evening, her rate of visiting the toilet went up to 23 times per hour, an all time record. Durga realized that she needed medical attention and that she would not under this condition manage to reach her hostel with out someone's help. In a city to which she had recently relocated for better marriage prospects, she had no one else to turn to, apart from the fruit of the above mentioned attempt. Reluctantly, Durga told him that she needed to get to a hospital. Luckily, this time he did not advice her, neither did he sound obnoxiously serious. The man did not own a car or even a motor bike and she knew that he could not drive one, so she wondered how he was going to help her. But almost 15 minutes later and 7 more visits to the toilet, he materialized in front of her office in a taxi. Durga can barely remember her ride to the hospital, she was just too tired due to the unlimited outgoing with zero incoming. At one point she was leaning against his shoulder and at another, she was lying on his lap.
The hospital was crowded in the fever month of July and Durga lay in one of the many beds, with him standing by her side. She had chosen to lie on a bed nearest to the privy for the obvious reason. She dozed off after a while and got up to vomit violently. He helped her to the commode, cleaned her up and got her back to the bed. Moments later, she found him shouting at a doctor for not attending to her. The response was quick, Durga was transferred to a room on a wheel chair, IV was administered and was given the necessary medicine to immediately cork the reckless outflow from her excretory system.
Durga did not want to be admitted in the hospital, she did not want to stay there alone and she did not have one friend close enough to stay with her for the night. But she had no choice, she was sick and she needed care, He stayed on, went out briefly and got her things to eat and drink and clothes to change, helped her get up and walk whenever she wanted, fed her and cared for her like a father for his toddler.
Realization hits people in different ways. Durga required almost 7 hrs, a hospital bed and a flux to realize that she was going to marry a man who would value her more than his life, no matter what state she was in. They spend their first night together on two different beds, with him tossing around, because the hospital bed was hardly hospitable, and also checking on her IV in between, and her, well, she didn't sleep at all. She was fondly looking at the man she would soon marry, whom she now loved deeply and with whom she would spend her life, happily. She now knew she was lucky indeed!!!!
That was 3 months ago. Soon after, Durga started having second thoughts. He was not the kind she had envisioned at all. True, she didn't want a man sickly in love with her, or obsessed with her every single action, she hated that kind. But she sure wanted someone who would surprise her with gifts once in a while, hold her hand while crossing the road, buy her dinner in a romantic restaurant or talk to her lovingly over the phone. This man was none of this. Once when she wanted to talk, he said his stomach was too full and so he cannot talk. Again, when she held his hand once while walking, he suggested that the physical effects of walking are better observed when you can move your hands freely. And on her birthday a week ago, he got too busy and didn't meet her to even wish her. OK, now these are all silly things in anyone else's view, but then Durga believed that these silly things are what added to the beauty of life. Things to remember in the long years they would be together, stories to giggle about in future and to share with the kids, such was the contentment that would have made her life perfect. Well, Durga just realized that with him, that was not to be. She was even considering talking to her mother about the difficulties in the relation though she knew that there was no backing off. Everyone found him to be perfect and called her lucky. And most of the times, he seemed to the genuinely in love with her, though the next moment he would do or say something that made her feel like a fool.
On the day which would later turn to their first night together, Durga was feeling uneasy since the morning. She was new to the city, the hostel food was still not a fond memory and she was terribly home sick. She was sure that the Paneer dish she had for dinner last night had not agreed with her stomach. Anyways, for the lack of anything better to do in the dreary hostel room and since the office rest room was a much pleasanter sight as compared to the one in the hostel, she went on to her office. The barrage started around 9AM during her daily status call when she rushed to the toilet. After 7 trips to the potty, she lost the count. Her stomach was as sick as her heart and she was truly a damsel in fluid distress! He called her in the morning, he always did that, a call that never lasted for more than 60 seconds. Unlike a cold or a headache, dysentery is not exactly the kind of disease that gets you the right kind of attention, yet Durga managed to tell him that her stomach was sick. He didn't sound sorry, neither did he make fun of her, worse even, he started advising her. He urged her to get Ginger or Tulsi tea that might solidify her bowels. Durga was angry when she hung upon him. Between 5 and 6 in the evening, her rate of visiting the toilet went up to 23 times per hour, an all time record. Durga realized that she needed medical attention and that she would not under this condition manage to reach her hostel with out someone's help. In a city to which she had recently relocated for better marriage prospects, she had no one else to turn to, apart from the fruit of the above mentioned attempt. Reluctantly, Durga told him that she needed to get to a hospital. Luckily, this time he did not advice her, neither did he sound obnoxiously serious. The man did not own a car or even a motor bike and she knew that he could not drive one, so she wondered how he was going to help her. But almost 15 minutes later and 7 more visits to the toilet, he materialized in front of her office in a taxi. Durga can barely remember her ride to the hospital, she was just too tired due to the unlimited outgoing with zero incoming. At one point she was leaning against his shoulder and at another, she was lying on his lap.
The hospital was crowded in the fever month of July and Durga lay in one of the many beds, with him standing by her side. She had chosen to lie on a bed nearest to the privy for the obvious reason. She dozed off after a while and got up to vomit violently. He helped her to the commode, cleaned her up and got her back to the bed. Moments later, she found him shouting at a doctor for not attending to her. The response was quick, Durga was transferred to a room on a wheel chair, IV was administered and was given the necessary medicine to immediately cork the reckless outflow from her excretory system.
Durga did not want to be admitted in the hospital, she did not want to stay there alone and she did not have one friend close enough to stay with her for the night. But she had no choice, she was sick and she needed care, He stayed on, went out briefly and got her things to eat and drink and clothes to change, helped her get up and walk whenever she wanted, fed her and cared for her like a father for his toddler.
Realization hits people in different ways. Durga required almost 7 hrs, a hospital bed and a flux to realize that she was going to marry a man who would value her more than his life, no matter what state she was in. They spend their first night together on two different beds, with him tossing around, because the hospital bed was hardly hospitable, and also checking on her IV in between, and her, well, she didn't sleep at all. She was fondly looking at the man she would soon marry, whom she now loved deeply and with whom she would spend her life, happily. She now knew she was lucky indeed!!!!
Sunday, September 11, 2011
This is how I know them
As far as my knowledge goes, they come in 4 varieties. The nomenclature below is based on my limited experience and your divisions might differ, but however you name it, the characteristics have a very large probability of staying the same.
Men as I know them can be classified as the Ps, Ss, Rs and the others.
P - Promising, Polite and Patient.
These are the loving ones. The ones who smother you with their incomparable love. My Ps would change themselves or change their worlds for the woman they love. They lavish gifts on their girl and use all expletives possible to express their love. They call you beautiful though your mirror says otherwise and stare lovingly at you even when there is a parade of nude females around. Most of the times you end up feeling guilty that you are unable to return their love in the same intensity, magnitude or depth. They promise to wait for you for ages and ages and one day they realize that they can't. In the most ancient and despicable fashion, they drop one long mail, message or none of the above and disappear. Now if the ones of this kind leave, they are gone for good, they would never ever come back. You would only be able to think of them with a pang of guilt, wondering what went wrong. Afterall, the man had promised to stay and that's all what you ever wanted! And in the rest of your life, you never stop wondering, "What if he had stayed.."
S - Silly, Sensitive, Stubborn
Now the S are a whole different story altogether. These are the demanding ones. You really have to try hard, harder and hardest to keep them happy. And still you end up being in love with these rascals, for they have the charm and the charisma that none other possess. If you ask me whether they truly love you, I might answer yes, but again, you have to work for it. Never take these ones for granted, you hurt them and they are gone. But again, they would be back, provided you prove your love for them sufficiently well. One trick that works with them is the art of ignoring them. They cannot tolerate it and would come to you begging, asking for penance. But you should know where to stop or they would just realize that you are playing with them and vanish!! Frankly, I am yet to understand this kind. Don't ever expect a commitment from them. Some days, they would be so close to being the perfect one, and then they would not call you for days altogether. Evidently, they know that you are waiting and would hug them and fondle them when they are back, and a simple excuse would take care of all your anger.
R - Rational, Relationship-Oriented, Reliable
I am in love with the R category.These are the ones who would never speak one sugary word, never spend too much on gifts and never say that they would want to tolerate you for one more life. Damn it, sometimes you even doubt their love. But fake an accident, pretend your nose is blocked, sneeze a couple of times over the phone or perhaps hint that someone else has asked you out, and they would be near you, holding your hand and taking care of you or trying to impress you. No matter whether its a bad hair day, or you are in rags or if your sandals are smelly, they would not comment, apparently, they don't comment even if you resemble Merlyn Monroe in a particular outfit. These are the stoic ones who would be happy to spend a lifetime with you, fighting and making up, the one who would build you a mansion, ask atleast for your choice of color when he buys a car and would be proud of you and your achievements.
Added at special request:
D - Dreamer,Dumb,Devilish
These are the ones you must be very careful about. When they come about, you feel that the chemistry is awesome and that no one could be better. But beware of these cowards, these are mamma's boys with a non-existent back bone. The moment the pressure mounts, the dreamer turns devilish, shows you his ugly teeth and hides behind his mother's pallu. And years later, they would regret and come back ,not because they want to be back wit you, but because they just realize that they should not have lost you. Having them around would never do any good, a smile would make them demand daily SMS and the demand just builds up until you kick the devil out of your life once and forever!
The others.
The rest don't follow a pattern, most of them are 'lets have some fun' kind, some are 'I would die for you' kind and many are 'lets spend a day or a night together' kind. Ignore them, for they mean no good!
If in the course of life, I happen to find another category to add to, be assured that the list would grow. :)
Men as I know them can be classified as the Ps, Ss, Rs and the others.
P - Promising, Polite and Patient.
These are the loving ones. The ones who smother you with their incomparable love. My Ps would change themselves or change their worlds for the woman they love. They lavish gifts on their girl and use all expletives possible to express their love. They call you beautiful though your mirror says otherwise and stare lovingly at you even when there is a parade of nude females around. Most of the times you end up feeling guilty that you are unable to return their love in the same intensity, magnitude or depth. They promise to wait for you for ages and ages and one day they realize that they can't. In the most ancient and despicable fashion, they drop one long mail, message or none of the above and disappear. Now if the ones of this kind leave, they are gone for good, they would never ever come back. You would only be able to think of them with a pang of guilt, wondering what went wrong. Afterall, the man had promised to stay and that's all what you ever wanted! And in the rest of your life, you never stop wondering, "What if he had stayed.."
S - Silly, Sensitive, Stubborn
Now the S are a whole different story altogether. These are the demanding ones. You really have to try hard, harder and hardest to keep them happy. And still you end up being in love with these rascals, for they have the charm and the charisma that none other possess. If you ask me whether they truly love you, I might answer yes, but again, you have to work for it. Never take these ones for granted, you hurt them and they are gone. But again, they would be back, provided you prove your love for them sufficiently well. One trick that works with them is the art of ignoring them. They cannot tolerate it and would come to you begging, asking for penance. But you should know where to stop or they would just realize that you are playing with them and vanish!! Frankly, I am yet to understand this kind. Don't ever expect a commitment from them. Some days, they would be so close to being the perfect one, and then they would not call you for days altogether. Evidently, they know that you are waiting and would hug them and fondle them when they are back, and a simple excuse would take care of all your anger.
R - Rational, Relationship-Oriented, Reliable
I am in love with the R category.These are the ones who would never speak one sugary word, never spend too much on gifts and never say that they would want to tolerate you for one more life. Damn it, sometimes you even doubt their love. But fake an accident, pretend your nose is blocked, sneeze a couple of times over the phone or perhaps hint that someone else has asked you out, and they would be near you, holding your hand and taking care of you or trying to impress you. No matter whether its a bad hair day, or you are in rags or if your sandals are smelly, they would not comment, apparently, they don't comment even if you resemble Merlyn Monroe in a particular outfit. These are the stoic ones who would be happy to spend a lifetime with you, fighting and making up, the one who would build you a mansion, ask atleast for your choice of color when he buys a car and would be proud of you and your achievements.
Added at special request:
D - Dreamer,Dumb,Devilish
These are the ones you must be very careful about. When they come about, you feel that the chemistry is awesome and that no one could be better. But beware of these cowards, these are mamma's boys with a non-existent back bone. The moment the pressure mounts, the dreamer turns devilish, shows you his ugly teeth and hides behind his mother's pallu. And years later, they would regret and come back ,not because they want to be back wit you, but because they just realize that they should not have lost you. Having them around would never do any good, a smile would make them demand daily SMS and the demand just builds up until you kick the devil out of your life once and forever!
The others.
The rest don't follow a pattern, most of them are 'lets have some fun' kind, some are 'I would die for you' kind and many are 'lets spend a day or a night together' kind. Ignore them, for they mean no good!
If in the course of life, I happen to find another category to add to, be assured that the list would grow. :)
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
What Vidya would never be able to give Siddhi..
I am not attempting a lengthy and boring study of comparison of generations or the degeneration of values over these. This is more of a mother in me, trying to look at my childhood and find how much of it my daughter would ever get to experience. Ofcourse, she would have a lot more of some other stuff, I am sure, like a computer by the time she is in her primary classes, doll houses or robots, whichever she prefers, a car to take her to school, parents who can speak English, and so on. But looking back at the me of 7 or 8 years of age, which my daughter would take another 6 years to reach, I feel sorry for her.
With the festival season of Onam coming nearer, a day in the town tells me a lot. I find flowers being sold in shops and the crowd infront of each of these reveals that I am not the only person who currently owns a bare courtyard, devoid of even a single plant. Every tiny wisp of grass gets rudely pull out, the moment it pops its head out.
ThiruOnam, the big day, is preceded by 10 days of enthusiasm for the youngsters which gradually permeates into the elders too. A major part of it is making the pookkalam (floral patterns on the floor) The day before the first of these 10 days, the Atham day, my grandmother goes to some house which owns a cow. This process is for fetching cow dung for the next 10 days. Flowers are never laid bare on the courtyard soil. A bed of cow dung is made on each of these 10 days to provide the base for the pookkalam. My mother would puke at the sight of cow dung. I often wondered how she managed as a child! I had no such reservations though. I could scoop the dung with my bare hands and happily smear it on the soil bed even after a few days when the cow dung starts housing worms and such similar species! The first 2 days are actually uninteresting as the tradition says that only white flowers are allowed, and ofcourse, you don't have much variety or volume in that particular segment! The excitement builds up on day 3 when the lesser species of colored flowers(reservation among flowers too!!) are allowed entry into the pookkalam! I would get up at 5 in the morning and wake my lazy brother. We would together go to our neighbor's house first. Now, its not that we didn't have any flowers in my house, sure we did. but this particular neighbor owns an enviable collection of all kinds of flowers imaginable. Getting up early is to ward off competition. Almost all the kids in that locality greatly depend on this particular source for their pookkalams. We really didn't need a competition as there was more than sufficient for all of us. At the end of almost 30 minutes of jumping, plucking, arguing, bartering and sharing, we stare at those flowers high above us that we can't reach, gawk sadly and come back to our houses. I have never been creative when it comes to patterns. My brother was the boss in that. I would arrange the flowers as he commands and at the end of an hour, our pookkalam would be ready. The next step is to pull out my father from behind his newspaper, mother and grandmother from the kitchen and proudly display our masterpiece of the day. This momentum builds and explodes on the 10th day when we prepare up to 5 such pookkalams.
That was the past, a past that even some of my friends here would not believe I ever had. The past when we sit in our school bus and stare at the pookkalams laid infront of every single house on the way with jealousy or pride, when Onam was a life of 10 days that we would spend one year, waiting to live.
At the age of 17, I went away from home for my graduate studies. My brother didn't have the interest, time or motivation to take the tradition of pookkalam forward. But still, I made up for it in the last few days, when my vacation would start. In the 2nd year of my graduation, a snake visited our courtyard. It was of a poisonous variety and everyone suggested that the reason behind this visit was that our courtyard was too cluttered with plants. The next time I came home, my beautiful yard was all bare and without soil. It was paved with concrete blocks. After a few years, the neighbor, who was the source of the flowers sold her property and went away. The new owners cut her plants away and built a house.
Life went on as I moved to Mysore and then to Bangalore. The visits to Kerala were rare, Onam was a day of TV programs and good food and life was not the same anymore.
After Siddhi came to our life and we moved back to Kerala, I was joyous. I knew that a child would make a lot of difference to the festivals. They were always more interested and excited about these celebrations as compared to elders. Last year, during Onam, Siddhi was 3 months old. Though she would hardly notice it, I wanted to make a pookkalam for her. I sent Rajeev out on the day before Onam to buy some flowers. He came back with an insignificantly small polythene kit which contained flowers worth Rs 150/-. We made a tiny pookkalam on our sit-out and took photographs in the memory of Siddhi's first Onam.
After a few years, some day, Siddhi would come and remind me that it is Atham again and that she wants to make a pookkalam. With two enormous cars parked, where would I find her some space in our courtyard, safe enough to make a pookkalam that would not be over-run by these cars? Where will I get some cow dung from and even if I do get it, how would I smear it on the concrete? Would I be able to afford to buy her flowers as she wants on all the 10 days? When my daughter asks me why I took all those festive joys of my childhood away from her, what should I tell her?
With the festival season of Onam coming nearer, a day in the town tells me a lot. I find flowers being sold in shops and the crowd infront of each of these reveals that I am not the only person who currently owns a bare courtyard, devoid of even a single plant. Every tiny wisp of grass gets rudely pull out, the moment it pops its head out.
ThiruOnam, the big day, is preceded by 10 days of enthusiasm for the youngsters which gradually permeates into the elders too. A major part of it is making the pookkalam (floral patterns on the floor) The day before the first of these 10 days, the Atham day, my grandmother goes to some house which owns a cow. This process is for fetching cow dung for the next 10 days. Flowers are never laid bare on the courtyard soil. A bed of cow dung is made on each of these 10 days to provide the base for the pookkalam. My mother would puke at the sight of cow dung. I often wondered how she managed as a child! I had no such reservations though. I could scoop the dung with my bare hands and happily smear it on the soil bed even after a few days when the cow dung starts housing worms and such similar species! The first 2 days are actually uninteresting as the tradition says that only white flowers are allowed, and ofcourse, you don't have much variety or volume in that particular segment! The excitement builds up on day 3 when the lesser species of colored flowers(reservation among flowers too!!) are allowed entry into the pookkalam! I would get up at 5 in the morning and wake my lazy brother. We would together go to our neighbor's house first. Now, its not that we didn't have any flowers in my house, sure we did. but this particular neighbor owns an enviable collection of all kinds of flowers imaginable. Getting up early is to ward off competition. Almost all the kids in that locality greatly depend on this particular source for their pookkalams. We really didn't need a competition as there was more than sufficient for all of us. At the end of almost 30 minutes of jumping, plucking, arguing, bartering and sharing, we stare at those flowers high above us that we can't reach, gawk sadly and come back to our houses. I have never been creative when it comes to patterns. My brother was the boss in that. I would arrange the flowers as he commands and at the end of an hour, our pookkalam would be ready. The next step is to pull out my father from behind his newspaper, mother and grandmother from the kitchen and proudly display our masterpiece of the day. This momentum builds and explodes on the 10th day when we prepare up to 5 such pookkalams.
That was the past, a past that even some of my friends here would not believe I ever had. The past when we sit in our school bus and stare at the pookkalams laid infront of every single house on the way with jealousy or pride, when Onam was a life of 10 days that we would spend one year, waiting to live.
At the age of 17, I went away from home for my graduate studies. My brother didn't have the interest, time or motivation to take the tradition of pookkalam forward. But still, I made up for it in the last few days, when my vacation would start. In the 2nd year of my graduation, a snake visited our courtyard. It was of a poisonous variety and everyone suggested that the reason behind this visit was that our courtyard was too cluttered with plants. The next time I came home, my beautiful yard was all bare and without soil. It was paved with concrete blocks. After a few years, the neighbor, who was the source of the flowers sold her property and went away. The new owners cut her plants away and built a house.
Life went on as I moved to Mysore and then to Bangalore. The visits to Kerala were rare, Onam was a day of TV programs and good food and life was not the same anymore.
After Siddhi came to our life and we moved back to Kerala, I was joyous. I knew that a child would make a lot of difference to the festivals. They were always more interested and excited about these celebrations as compared to elders. Last year, during Onam, Siddhi was 3 months old. Though she would hardly notice it, I wanted to make a pookkalam for her. I sent Rajeev out on the day before Onam to buy some flowers. He came back with an insignificantly small polythene kit which contained flowers worth Rs 150/-. We made a tiny pookkalam on our sit-out and took photographs in the memory of Siddhi's first Onam.
After a few years, some day, Siddhi would come and remind me that it is Atham again and that she wants to make a pookkalam. With two enormous cars parked, where would I find her some space in our courtyard, safe enough to make a pookkalam that would not be over-run by these cars? Where will I get some cow dung from and even if I do get it, how would I smear it on the concrete? Would I be able to afford to buy her flowers as she wants on all the 10 days? When my daughter asks me why I took all those festive joys of my childhood away from her, what should I tell her?
Death is never fair.
This blog is not attempt at grooming my writing skills, as it usually is, but the intention is to vent out the sense of despair that I feel now.
My mother called me up while in class, which is unusual. Sensing urgency, I stole out of the class and called her back. She had a shocking news to share. A relative of mine got killed in an accident today afternoon. He was just 36, a father of 2 children aged 10 and 6. I was genuinely surprised at the unfairness of death. No one knows what accounting standards God follows to record the life asset its depreciation. Some year, the depreciation accumulates to a value equal to the fair value of life and then its over. I don't approve this technique, but I don't have the option to sue!
I grieved and then my thoughts returned to me, my selfish self. My mother takes care of my 1.5 yr old child while I am away in the new role of a student here. Siddhi, my daughter, stays with my grand mother, my aunt and a maid while my mom is away in office. She is very happy until 6 after which she needs one of us with her, me or my mom. The funeral is happening today and if my mom has to go, which she would and wait until it gets over, then it would be atleast 10PM in the evening before she comes back. I was concerned for my child. And that is unnecessary, I know, she has her father and everyone else with her. But apparently my baby getting restless for 3-4hrs in the evening until my mother gets back to her was more heart breaking to me than the thought of two children crying for their dead father.
I felt shame. I felt pained. And I wanted to write. Back in class, I thought about his wife, a very beautiful woman who was dear to all of us, his lovely children and I hate the whole system of life and death. I know it is inevitable, it would come to all of us, some day or the other. But it is all so unfair!!!
Monday, September 5, 2011
The day that was today!
Still the same, every time I decide to do it, or am forced to do it, I go through the same flurry of feelings. Writing before the actual moment is one way to ward of atleast some of my fears. It is this discovery that is prompting me to open my laptop at this moment.
Those reading this might have imagined that I am talking about those confused and crucial moments before an orgy or a nude club session. Well, you are almost there. The term presentations of most of the subjects are closely akin to stripping yourself infront of the crowd with most of them booing and some of them gawking at your not so perfect body. I have been considered a good speaker all my life. The lack of knowledge can sometimes be made up using these oratory skills, sometimes that is. I am a good actress too, but only when I manage to remember my dialogues. Sadly, in these presentations, you don't have an assistant director whispering the dialogues behind your back, directing you whether to move left or right.
So today is one of those days with two such torture sessions, apparently in the same room and on the same chair, but by two different executioners. One in the morning and one in the afternoon. I am getting ready for the first one, Wish me good luck!!!!
Epilogue(Evening after the presentations):
The day ended at a mixed note. The first presentation went fairly well, the system didn't beat us anywhere and my software background helped. I think I am safe.
The second one cannot be called bad, it was pathetic. And I was amused. All of us spoke rather well, I believe. The audience went through varied feelings like humor, surprise, disgust, but towards the end, there was only one remaining, 'confusion'. SRK's question was the nail on the coffin, a very innocent, 'What was that about?'. This was followed by an outburst in the class. Apparently, our message got dissolved somewhere in the flood of slides and men having sex with men. Well, individually the ideas might have been great, but together, the impact factor was missing. Not that it didn't make an impact, it was so hugely negative! The message was harshly delivered by the very critical comment of a class mate that we have hurt the emotions of some by selecting such a sensitive topic and making a mockery of it. The contempt was clear on her face and our macho boy apologized!
For those of you wondering what on earth we invented to mess up an otherwise easy presentation that gives you a wide scope for involvement. This is how I understood it, and other couldn't! We wanted to explain the cluttering of ideas in management education by explaining a simple concept through different management concepts. The idea that we were using in this exercise was the recent statistic that showed 25% of men in India have sex with other men. That was the point that touched the raw nerve. People evidently got confused as to what to listen to. The sex part of it or the management part of it.
The rest are in the hands of my Prof who didn't really look very happy. Though I feel that fate destines some of us to set bad examples too! Would Churchill have earned this glory without Hitler? The even otherwise great performances of some of the other groups after us got even more applause due to the impact we created. Ok guys, you don't have to thank us for that!
Nevertheless, it was great to work with people like the Tornado(Ajay), the fun-lover(Hansika), the reliable(Anubhuti), the cutie pie(Amber) and most importantly, the silent killer(Athul)!!! Love you team!!!
Those reading this might have imagined that I am talking about those confused and crucial moments before an orgy or a nude club session. Well, you are almost there. The term presentations of most of the subjects are closely akin to stripping yourself infront of the crowd with most of them booing and some of them gawking at your not so perfect body. I have been considered a good speaker all my life. The lack of knowledge can sometimes be made up using these oratory skills, sometimes that is. I am a good actress too, but only when I manage to remember my dialogues. Sadly, in these presentations, you don't have an assistant director whispering the dialogues behind your back, directing you whether to move left or right.
So today is one of those days with two such torture sessions, apparently in the same room and on the same chair, but by two different executioners. One in the morning and one in the afternoon. I am getting ready for the first one, Wish me good luck!!!!
Epilogue(Evening after the presentations):
The day ended at a mixed note. The first presentation went fairly well, the system didn't beat us anywhere and my software background helped. I think I am safe.
The second one cannot be called bad, it was pathetic. And I was amused. All of us spoke rather well, I believe. The audience went through varied feelings like humor, surprise, disgust, but towards the end, there was only one remaining, 'confusion'. SRK's question was the nail on the coffin, a very innocent, 'What was that about?'. This was followed by an outburst in the class. Apparently, our message got dissolved somewhere in the flood of slides and men having sex with men. Well, individually the ideas might have been great, but together, the impact factor was missing. Not that it didn't make an impact, it was so hugely negative! The message was harshly delivered by the very critical comment of a class mate that we have hurt the emotions of some by selecting such a sensitive topic and making a mockery of it. The contempt was clear on her face and our macho boy apologized!
For those of you wondering what on earth we invented to mess up an otherwise easy presentation that gives you a wide scope for involvement. This is how I understood it, and other couldn't! We wanted to explain the cluttering of ideas in management education by explaining a simple concept through different management concepts. The idea that we were using in this exercise was the recent statistic that showed 25% of men in India have sex with other men. That was the point that touched the raw nerve. People evidently got confused as to what to listen to. The sex part of it or the management part of it.
The rest are in the hands of my Prof who didn't really look very happy. Though I feel that fate destines some of us to set bad examples too! Would Churchill have earned this glory without Hitler? The even otherwise great performances of some of the other groups after us got even more applause due to the impact we created. Ok guys, you don't have to thank us for that!
Nevertheless, it was great to work with people like the Tornado(Ajay), the fun-lover(Hansika), the reliable(Anubhuti), the cutie pie(Amber) and most importantly, the silent killer(Athul)!!! Love you team!!!
Saturday, September 3, 2011
All that you should know about me!
Beware...
The list below is explosive. It might help you to learn things about me that can probably avoid me getting angry at you. But if you try to change yourself according to it, then my dear, you would have very little of you remaining in you!
Also, building an exhaustive list is impossible. My tastes change with time. The items are person dependent too, I might not find you scratching your head to be amusing to any degree whereas in someone else, I would find it super cute!!
So here it goes. Don't lose yourself in the deep whirlpool of the likes and dislikes of an eccentric mind called me!!
10 commandments!
1. My weight concerns me. And trust me, I don't eat too much. Any point hinted at my weight and the pertaining ugliness would turn me off forever! At the same time, please don't ever tell me that I am not fat, I would know you are lying and would hate you vehemently for a long time. So the best way out, ignore the topic! All the same, I would make fun of you and your weight and anything associated. That happens to be my right!
2. I am particular about table manners. Don't chew noisily, never open your mouth while eating, don't burp knowingly, I definitely can forgive you if I feel that it was unintentional. I usually don't do any of these, but in the rare case of me doing it, you are to keep absolutely quite.
3. I am good at advising people and telling them how to live their lives, but if you dare to try it on me, you are doomed! I will do as I please, talk as I want, behave as I wish, you are to watch every thing stoically. And if as much as see a shadow of smile on your face, needless to say, you would be sorry for yourself!
4. I can take jokes, but keep away the one with the tinge of obscenity. Does not mean I don't enjoy non-veg jokes, it's up to you to find out my level of tolerance. And some day you might just learn it the hard way!
5. You have the liberty to make fun of my ancestral origins, caste and remote family. Keep away my parents and my child. My husband and brother are all yours.
6. If I say I don't want something or I won't do something, it means I don't want it and I won't do it. You are not to demand it again. Nevertheless, when I say I am sleeping, you can try asking me for 2 mins more. Anything more than 2 mins and such a demand more than once a day would be met with an iron fist!
7. I do like surprises, not shocks. I love it when you gaze, but don't stare. You can praise me, but don't make me feel that you are making it up!
8. I hate losers. I define a loser as a person who never tries. I hate laziness, I hate people sleeping late in the mornings, I hate people who don't have dreams. On second thoughts, I guess I should have put this the first in my list as my greatest turn on is to be with a dreamer..someone with unlimited dreams!
9. Don't bore me. I hate sports, cars and action cinema. I am alien to English music though I do know that Brian Adams was not the former president of the US and the back street boys are not street thugs. So please don't talk to me about any of these and prove my ignorance. I hate to be revealed as a fool infront of anyone.
10. I am the greenest variety of the female species you would find on earth. You are not to entertain any other female in any capacity when I am around. I can be deadly if turned green!
Good luck to you. Following these rules would kill you. Not following it would make me kill you. Either way, you are so very DEAD!!!!
The list below is explosive. It might help you to learn things about me that can probably avoid me getting angry at you. But if you try to change yourself according to it, then my dear, you would have very little of you remaining in you!
Also, building an exhaustive list is impossible. My tastes change with time. The items are person dependent too, I might not find you scratching your head to be amusing to any degree whereas in someone else, I would find it super cute!!
So here it goes. Don't lose yourself in the deep whirlpool of the likes and dislikes of an eccentric mind called me!!
10 commandments!
1. My weight concerns me. And trust me, I don't eat too much. Any point hinted at my weight and the pertaining ugliness would turn me off forever! At the same time, please don't ever tell me that I am not fat, I would know you are lying and would hate you vehemently for a long time. So the best way out, ignore the topic! All the same, I would make fun of you and your weight and anything associated. That happens to be my right!
2. I am particular about table manners. Don't chew noisily, never open your mouth while eating, don't burp knowingly, I definitely can forgive you if I feel that it was unintentional. I usually don't do any of these, but in the rare case of me doing it, you are to keep absolutely quite.
3. I am good at advising people and telling them how to live their lives, but if you dare to try it on me, you are doomed! I will do as I please, talk as I want, behave as I wish, you are to watch every thing stoically. And if as much as see a shadow of smile on your face, needless to say, you would be sorry for yourself!
4. I can take jokes, but keep away the one with the tinge of obscenity. Does not mean I don't enjoy non-veg jokes, it's up to you to find out my level of tolerance. And some day you might just learn it the hard way!
5. You have the liberty to make fun of my ancestral origins, caste and remote family. Keep away my parents and my child. My husband and brother are all yours.
6. If I say I don't want something or I won't do something, it means I don't want it and I won't do it. You are not to demand it again. Nevertheless, when I say I am sleeping, you can try asking me for 2 mins more. Anything more than 2 mins and such a demand more than once a day would be met with an iron fist!
7. I do like surprises, not shocks. I love it when you gaze, but don't stare. You can praise me, but don't make me feel that you are making it up!
8. I hate losers. I define a loser as a person who never tries. I hate laziness, I hate people sleeping late in the mornings, I hate people who don't have dreams. On second thoughts, I guess I should have put this the first in my list as my greatest turn on is to be with a dreamer..someone with unlimited dreams!
9. Don't bore me. I hate sports, cars and action cinema. I am alien to English music though I do know that Brian Adams was not the former president of the US and the back street boys are not street thugs. So please don't talk to me about any of these and prove my ignorance. I hate to be revealed as a fool infront of anyone.
10. I am the greenest variety of the female species you would find on earth. You are not to entertain any other female in any capacity when I am around. I can be deadly if turned green!
Good luck to you. Following these rules would kill you. Not following it would make me kill you. Either way, you are so very DEAD!!!!
Thursday, September 1, 2011
I want you to know..
I want you to know..
That you mean a lot more to me than I would ever care to let you know,
That my pride might blind me often, but my love for you is blind too,
That the more I hurt you, the more I get hurt,
That your pain is agony for me,
That your happiness would make me feel that I have attained my destiny,
That the moment you win, I am on the top of the world,
That every moment away from you tears me apart,
That I often dream of our life and our future,
That in this life and many more to come, I would be by your side....
That you mean a lot more to me than I would ever care to let you know,
That my pride might blind me often, but my love for you is blind too,
That the more I hurt you, the more I get hurt,
That your pain is agony for me,
That your happiness would make me feel that I have attained my destiny,
That the moment you win, I am on the top of the world,
That every moment away from you tears me apart,
That I often dream of our life and our future,
That in this life and many more to come, I would be by your side....
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