In Drama, we thrive!

A few of the people that I know well, tell me that I thrive on drama. They claim that I exaggerate, emphasize, gesture wildly, roll my eyes, raise my voice and do all those things that that would constitute what we call, "being dramatic". The rest of the people that I know well probably didn't think so or did not go through the painful exercise of trying to categorize me!

In any case, at this point, I should stand up, hold the mike close to me, take a meaningful pause, throw an intelligent look at the audience and declare, "I so am not dramatic!".

But the little person within me, the guy we like to call our conscience, holds a tiny index finger and mouths,

"Lying is veeery bad."

"Its not a lie. I am merely decorating the truth, maybe personalizing it a bit!"

"Veeeeryyyyy bad."

Darn. Ok. So, I can't declare and all that. I'll just admit that I do tend to dramatize a bit.

(Defensive tone) So what? To me, little events in my life, like

• What lazy-blogger-in-rainy-city commented on my short-story blog,


• What k said after he ate my made-from-scratch-gulab-jamoon (well, scratch as in, the from the powder thingie that comes in that nice little sachet with the nice pictures of round, golden brown gulab jamoons in them. Mine came out kind of amoeba shaped and darkish brown, nevertheless...), and in case you're curious, he said, "Why is this black and bloated? Anyway, it tastes awesome!"


• What the guy in the stiff, starched blue suit on sun TV said about the latest Tamil movie in the Top 10 count down,


• How the waiter in the new Indian restaurant in our block, seemed so restless when he served us (he made me restless too!),


• What my mom-in-law said about my rotis (No, you are wrong, she said, "Good job!")


• Important questions like: Would k marry the horrible lady in Parent Trap (such a cute movie!) - you know the one who tries to lure Dennis Quaid away from his daughters - if that was the only thing that he could do to save my life? (Hypothetical situations are very important to me. We have gone over this recently).


• Relationship discussions (You did not tell me that you got your H1-B visa extended but you told her first! Maybe we are getting too familiar with each other, are we taking us for granted? and so on!)

These are all very important to me. I like to dwell, dramatize, deduce and drown in the trivialities of my life. So, to all the people who know me well who claim that I dramatize, here's my reply,

"Ha!"

(Notice how cleverly I respond, with neither a yes or a no, but a simple, witty, "Ha!"?)

Gosh, I never realized I could write so much nonsense (after-effects of "Can you keep a secret?", I guess!) and be so smug about it. It's a cool feeling, you should try it too!

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Eppadi Irukengo? (How are you?)

"And now she is going to say, "Eppadi irukengo?" ", he mimics here, with considerable accent thought I can't quite place the accent - A southern Tam Bramish Gujarathi accent?!

And on TV, Uma says, "Eppadi irukengo?"

"Neenga eppadi irukengo?"

Echo: "Neenga eppadi irukengo?"




Sheesh! What a coincidence! He just picked the very same phrases. And the reason for this experiment is that k wanted to prove to me how predictable the Pepsi Ungal Choice or Aachi Ungal Choice or the whatever Ungal Choice programme is.

I disagree. (In my defense, earlier, I never used to be able to watch it because it overlapped with The Apprentice. Now that Apprentice is on Monday, I can watch Pepsi Uma's programme all I want.) I just wish I could make him realize how interesting this programme is (I realize pretty soon that he has a definite upper edge, especially after she echoed him!).

"Come on, see there's someone calling from Chengalpet and from Ahmedabad. Isn't that cool? She is calling from Ahmedabad. Gosh! She must be really missing Tamil programmes and speaking in Tamil!"

I am lost momentarily thinking of poor Susheela calling from Ahmedabad to request a song from Ghajini.

"What makes you think there will be no Tamil programmes or Tamil speaking people in Ahmedabad?"

"I mean the sign-boards are all in Gujarathi..."

Gawd! What a weak argument and my voice trails off unconvincingly...see, I want to tell him that this programme is like a channel for people from all over the world to bond, to communicate, a way to connect and to tell Uma how great her saree is...err, ok, I'll admit it, this programme doesn't do all that, except the last bit. Anyway, he pounces upon my weak moment.

"See, they all have the same questions to ask. How are you? We are good. How are you again? I bet she can record the same responses and they can keep playing it over again and again and noone will know!"

"Thats not fair. See, so many people are genuinely happy to talk to her! Maybe we should call her too!"

"Yeah, right"

"Right"

And we both turn to watch Uma ask a maami from Madurai, "Eppadi Irukengo?"

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Zoom, zoom, zoom!

Someone at work said, driving is the single most dangerous thing that we do on a daily basis! And we don't think much about it until, just like everything else, something goes wrong. When I was back in India and even in the US, as a student, I used to envy other students who had their own car and could drive. I often imagined myself as an independent, young woman checking her watch in the morning before donning her shades and driving away in her car to work (no, not to Macy's!).

And that kind of came true (except the shades bit, I often forgot where I left them and had to squint at the sun light glaring at my face, as I drove). And then six months down the lane, I had my first accident. I was yielding to turn left (and I am a very careful driver, some might even call me "slow") when out of nowhere (isn't that always the case?), a Volvo had crashed right into my doddering old '93 Camry. Her Volvo took it really well (imagine the way some women blow lightly over their freshly painted finger nails as if something were mildly annoying them?) and my Camry just went all the way and died. Its hood stood up in a sad V shape and the fender too (definitely more dramatic than I had imagined a fender-bender to be!). The other driver, a girl of seventeen maybe, who was smiling all along suddenly burst into tears once the cop arrived! The cop took notes from "witnesses" and patted me on my back (a don't-you-worry pat), and said kindly, "You don't pay those insurance guys all your money for nothing."

Anyway, after a while, I was scared to drive and kind of leaned heavily on k to drive for me. It took me a while to get over my fender-bender incident. I drive now but draw in my breath more sharply and grip the steering wheel harder than I used to, sometimes.

k has had his own share of "incidents". I won't go into details here lest they reach India somehow and we land in what we like to call "a nice hot soup" (I guess they have heard most of the stories by now, k says, I am bad at hiding stuff, my stomach just can't hold it).

Anyway, the reason for my lengthly car-incidents discussion is that within a month now, we have had two cars run into us from behind (not our fault). One happened today when k was on his way to his volleyball game. It's really a tiring, albeit well-organized procedure: You call 911, tell the cop what happened, next call your insurance company, the other driver does the same. If your car has to be turned in for repairs, you get a rental car (if your insurance covers it) to drive until you get your car back, sign 22 forms more and you are done. Your baby is back, like a faithful tail (boot?)-shaking dog, willing you to drive it.

Sigh. I wish I had women's instinct that would tell me exactly when we should not drive. But then my instinct is often out-of-whack. Whenever k leaves the house alone, I have an urge to go running to him (not unlike the homely but dramatic heroines in old Tamil movies) and stop him for some reason or the other. Somehow my instinct tells me that my being there with him will keep us safer (maybe it has something to do with the fact that I am "supposed" to be a notorious back-seat driver, I of course will have to disagree). Since that turned out to be impractical, we have now settled upon a DDLJ-style arrangement (So cute no? Although k would be a very weak Amrish Puri, ahem...I might grow old to resemble Farida Jalal :), so he calls when he reaches destination and vice-versa.

As an aside, my cousin's wife says she considers the car lucky if she had an accident in it and escaped un-hurt. The car was lucky for her.

Nice, positive ring to that thought.

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All the way up there...

I finished Nanny Diaries yesterday (a wun-duh-ful book dahlings, seriously it's witty and sometimes scary to think there are parents as irresponsible as what is portrayed in the book) and then chanced upon an article on Reader's Digest about Faith. The article talked about people's faith in Angels and how it has grown in the past decades. It went on to discuss people's need to be a part of something bigger than them, their need to believe that they are part of a larger consciousness.

Life can't be about just buying the big house in Jayanagar, Bangalore where you will retire or saving money for your yet-to-born's Schooling, right? It's got to hold more meaning than that or sometimes we are just going to appalled by the superficiality of our existence. So where does this larger consciousness come from? I don't know but I do entertain fancy thoughts, my own conjectures about it.

For instance, consider a poor young boy's face when he watches a boy his own age carrying huge, colorful shopping bags of toys, with festoons and balloons almost covering his little head, I bet the little poor boy would leave a heavy sigh, a sigh that heralds many more to come for him, a sigh of unfulfilled desires and dreams which are beginning to seem more distant...I think that sigh goes all the way and sits there with someone in charge of collecting all the karmas of this world and keeping tab :)

Tomorrow if we do something that makes us feel a wee-bit guilty, that feeling floats up too and sits with this master account keeper.

Yesterday, if we went to the video store and talked loudly in our native language and laughed and the lady at the counter wondered if we were laughing at her...the sounds of our laughter and her doubts also rise up.

Each such feeling, sigh, yearning, even laughter and tears eventually find their way up and together make this larger consciousness that we talk about, throbbing and pulsating with the lives of all the souls that exist down here on earth. Maybe that is God, maybe the master account keeper is God. Maybe that is why good karma counts, I don't know. All I know is, even if there is noone up there keeping tabs, even if all our desires and dreams don't find their way up, as long as I imagine that they do, as long as I keep alive the illusion(?) that they all add up in some way, it makes me more conscious of what I say and do, that even my little existence has a purpose because it's a part of something bigger...

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Am I too aware of me?

Wise men (yes, I say that because I don't remember who they were, so might as well make up for it by making them feel good) often say that we should try to become self-aware. "Be in tune with yourself", "listen to your self", "know thyself", you get the point? That seemed like pretty good advice to me, so I tried to do that - be aware of what went through my head, why I react the way I do to certain things, why something makes me happy or sad. And I can say with confidence that I don't like what I see :)

The more I try to find a reason behind my feelings and actions, the deeper I dwell into my mental maps, the more I find pathways and trails that don't actually exist for the "right" reasons. Sometimes I have thoughts that are not technically the right thoughts to have in that situation - traces of envy, bits of "let me see if I can beat that" and the general set of their relatives and friends. And now am left wondering if I should have maybe left the thought aside, packed my feelings up after the requisite amount of time, instead of prodding them, digging in deeper and figuring out that am not a saint. Know what I mean? Maybe the feeling would have passed, the thought would have faded and I would have carried on blissfully unaware of my imperfections. But, now I have the thought and the feeling in addition to the "knowledge" that I am not perfect.

Yes, I know nobody is. One could argue that this process might make me consciously feel better thoughts, feel the right feelings the next time. Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe the next time, I will still feel the same not-justifiable feelings but only with more awareness that am feeling them!

Reminds of something P~ said a while back about having a mean thought and not voicing it. Do we become better people by being civil and not voicing it? We become better by not having such thoughts in the first place. But then the thought has already lodged itself inside our heads now. Does that make us bad people?

I guess I already know that we all are human beings, flaws and all, with selflessness and selfishness co-existing side-by-side but just like everyone else (yeah, yeah, am taking the whole world down with me, that way I can say, “just like everyone else”!), I don’t like finding faults in myself. I like it even less than having my faults told to me by others (heaven forbid! :)...maybe it's ok for me to not be so aware. Maybe it's ok to be ignorant, sometimes!

Reminds me of an article I read recently about how religious tolerance is not that great, especially when it’s superficial. Sometimes, it’s good to get out all your prejudices and faults out in the open. Maybe we do that but we just don’t go overboard doing that?

Qn: Ramya, why do you do this? Impose such heaviness on our light-hearted readers on a Friday?
Ans: Sigh! My apologies. Anyway I don't know if I really mean what I say because am not really self-aware yet! Guess they just will read(?) this and move on. After all TGIF! :)

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The what-if situation.

k tells me that I often get into what-if situations so much that I forget that it's a what-if situation and it's not actually real. Let me explain that better. The conversation starts innocuously:

Me - "What if your mom comes to stay with us and I get up really late on a Saturday, will she be ok with that?"

k - "Sure, why not? We can make her also sleep in late!"

Me (not liking the playful tone to his voice) - "Are you sure?"

k - "Yeah! It's not like we live with my parents in India! Relax"

(Aside - Argg! I hate the words "relax", "cool it", "take it easy" in the middle of an argument err...conversation. It indicates am getting all worked-up and hotheaded about the issue whereas the real issue that's making me hotheaded is the word "relaaaax" followed by a casual shrug!)

Me - "What if we have to go back to India, where will we live?"

k - "Bombay" (The answer comes to him unconsciously, especially since he is busy staring at his NCAA bracket willing his next-to-last position to inch up magically.)

Me - "Bombay?! Will we have to catch the local train to go to work then? Where will we live? Don't tell me we will live next to annoying Mrs.h~ that we met this time!"

(Aside - Mrs.h~ is the one who always talks to me through k, as if I didn't actually exist there. "Does she cook? Can she speak Hindi? She does? You must speak to her in Gujarathi so she will learn soon." - all questions addressed to dear hubby. For a wild moment then, I had an urge to answer similarly, I imagined tossing my hair, turning to k and saying, "Can Mrs.h~ give us the recipe for these yummy gulab jamuns?" and oh yeah, "Can she speak Hindi?")

k - "Ok, Bangalore then." (His bracket is beyond help, he realizes, so he has gone back to browsing his normal stock sites.)

Me - (Am relieved momentarily that we have decided on Bangalore but then I suddenly think of all the articles I have been reading about traffic congestion and infrastructure problems in Bangalore) "Gosh, what if we have to travel an hour to get to work? What if we can't adjust to work-timings there after getting used to the schedule here? What if..."

k - (interrupts me rudely, after all it was a reasonable hypothetical situation, one would think!) "Why should we always discuss these hypothetical situations of yours? What if? What if? And it's not that you answer a what-if and it goes away, it leads to more what-ifs all the more confusing than the first! Women and their what-ifs, bah!"

And so the story goes. My what-ifs remain what-ifs. Maybe I should ask him my what-if questions when his bracket gets better.

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Pictures anyone?

Words, small and big, friendly and not-so-friendly seem to have gone on a short vacation. Until then, here are some of their friends - pictures and images...

Gave googlepages a shot and it's really easy to come up with a simple web-page, so here's my attempt: My Google page. Don't forget to check out "Memories in pixels...", our friends for now :)

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A bed-time story anyone?

So, what do you do when you have a nice chunk of time in your hands and a restless imagination to match? You write a story, tell a tale, spin a yarn and that's what I did. I was even nice enough to break it into nice little chapters with matching titles :) So, go on, take a break, smell the flowers, make yourself a warm cup of cocoa and snuggle up on the couch...

**break** Sigh...somehow it doesn't sound the same as "snuggle up on the couch with a nice little book...but I'll try my best **break**

...with your nice little laptop, launch internet explorer, point to this page and relax.

Some day I want to be like the grandma in DDLJ surrounded by a bunch of kids, asking her to sing a song for them (she sings "Pyar kiya to darna kya" :), I suppose my grandkids and kids will ask me to tell them a story instead. I hope they do...and then I'll make up fanciful stories with kings and horses and beautiful maidens, scary stories with ghosts and witches, funny stories, sad stories...each day, I'll tell them a story and when they don't do their homework, their parents would tell them, "Hush, finish your homework now or grandma won't tell you a story tonight!"...and I would be sitting on my easy-chair (grandpa sits nearby with his nose buried in a financial magazine - just like now!), my silvery bun rolled high up on my head, fancy silver-framed spectacles perched high up on my nose, a twinkle in my still young eyes as I concoct yet another story to tell them...

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Airport Food Mart

Yesterday, a bunch of us decided to check out the new South Indian restaurant that opened on Versailles road. It wasn't much of a restaurant, more of a quaint little enclave within a gas station! We went in with some apprehensions and found it quite likeable actually. The person who ran the restaurant actually spoke Tamil (in a small city like ours, that's a very pleasant coincidence, believe me).

Anyway, what hit me at once was the amount of noise that the little place generated even before we made our considerable contribution towards it, and the thing is all the noise and smoke in that little place created just the right milieu for a bunch of India-starved Indians like us :) Initially, we raised a racket - chairs being dragged to accomodate the eleven of us, people bumping into each other, each scrambling to find chairs as if they would vanish that very instant. After the initial settling down everyone was happy that they had contributed their fair share towards the overall decibel value. We laughed at jokes louder than we would, talked in our respective native languages, even the people who served the food laughed with us and joked with a liberty they probably wouldn't take with Americans. k and some of the guys acted really mature and added drops of the red and green chutneys into each other's water glasses, then proceeded to drink it accompanied by sounds of "eeeeh" and "yuck", then settled back to some juvenile bickering satisfied with the spectacle that they had created :) While I tried to act genteel and lady-like, I realized I was actually enjoying all the confusion and chaos in that little place.

Perhaps, something about that little place created an illusion of a little India for us. Something about the fact that the place was Indian made us drop our inhibitions, shed our acquired traits, traits that helped us blend in, not stand out like an outsider in a strange land. We may deny it but we are a loud people, we like to talk and talk loudly at that and I think the nondescript Airport food mart let us be ourselves, just for a little while...

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Karadayan Nombu.

She lit the lamp and two incense sticks in front of the smiling Gods and Goddesses, her lips murmered chants almost unconsciously, prayers taught so long ago, at a different time and world, she does not remember when they became a part of her. Her mother had told her that the auspicious time was until eight-thirty that night. She should finish her prayers by then.

In a world very far away, a world that existed in a different place and time, the willful daughter pleaded with her father, "I have given my heart away father, nothing can change its will now. Even if I should convince myself to marry another man, my nuptial bond would just be a lie; a marriage cannot be built on such weak foundations..."

The father for these few moments forgets that he is a King, King Aswapathi, ruler of Mathra. When a daughter's life is in peril, when his daughter, dearer to him than life is convinced that her life is with another man, Sathyavan, who is destined to die before she completes a year of conjugal bliss, how can he remember that he is a ruler, a King? He is just a helpless father, his daughter's strong will and convincing words bending his resolve until he has no strength left to oppose...Oh Savithri, queen of my soul, I hope you are doing the right thing...

She fills a bowl with water and soaks the karamani, she sets aside carefully measured portions of jaggery and rice flour and starts boiling water in a pan just as her mother had instructed.

The marriage takes place as the daughter demands, she smiles happily, her life on the threshold of happy memories yet to be made. Her father smiles too, a smile very different from the one that lights up his daughter's face, a smile so immersed in a strain of underlying sadness, one wonders if the tears in his eyes are that of happiness or impending sorrow...what had Naradha said? That he would die within a year? Oh Shakthi, Oh Gowri, give my daughter strength, hold her hands when he will no longer be there to hold them in his...

She crushes the jaggery until they are a smooth powder and adds them to the boiling water until they form a smooth paste. She then begins to add the rice flour, stirring continuously.

Each day Savithri prays to Goddess Gowri holding her thirumangalyam in her hands, that they remain strong, hanging from her neck, that the day never come when Sathyavan be taken away from her. The month of Panguni follows Masi and brings with it the God of death, Yama. She senses his presence even before he has touched Sathyavan. Tall, strong and proud, his hands carrying a golden Gaja - his weapon, gold earrings, chains and bracelets contrasting with the dark shade of his skin - they seem out of place, happy and glowing with promise as he walks with firm, confident steps towards Sathyavan to claim his soul.
Who is this woman who dares obstruct his way? He is surprised to see her match his glare with confidence and resolve.

"Woman, you know not who I am, please move aside and let me do my duty!", his voice thunders and a lesser mortal would have been terrified of it but not Savithri. She answers back defiantly, "I know who you are, Lord Yama and I know too that you have come to claim my husband's life. I stand in your way to request, to implore, to ask that you not take away my Sathyavan!"

Along with the rice flour and jaggery paste, she adds the karamani - the day is named after the karamani adai that sumangalis make that day. She sends her husband to get vennai (butter) that is to be offered to God with the adai.

Hours later, the frail woman watches with tears rolling down her eyes, as Yama carries Sathyavan away from this world. She follows him resolutely. "Oh Yama, I beg of you to let go of my husband. Take my life instead, for I have none without my husband. I am born to be united with him!"

And although, Yama walks away with determined steps, her words surround him and make his task more and more difficult. What has this devoted, helpless woman done to deserve widowhood? Why should her husband die leaving her so vulnerable? His steps slow down but he continues to walk away from this world. Savithri follows behind, determined to follow him to hell even, if that is what it takes to get her husband's life back...

He returns back with the butter and she offers the adai and vennai to God with a prayer, "உருகாத வெண்ணையும் ஓர் அடையும் நூத்தேன், ஒரு காலும் என் கணவர் என்னைவிட்டு பிரியாமல் இருக்க வேண்டும்" - the same sentiments that a woman echoed several ages back to claim her husband's life back.

Night turns into day and Savithri follows Yama pleading all the way. Yama pleased with her persistence offers her a boon. Savithri says, "Oh Lord, I pray to thee that I be blessed with a hundred healthy sons...", Yama grants her the boon and turns away when Savithri says, "Oh Lord, how am I to have a hundred sons if my husband lies dead in your arms? To uphold your promise to me, you have to grant me my husband's life!" Lord Yama finally gives in to the will and courage of Sathyavan's devoted wife...Savithri having claimed Sathyavan back from the God of death proceeds to earth to lead a happy life with her beloved.

She ties the sacred yellow thread around her neck and prays to Goddess Gowri that she have the strength that Savithri had, that she remain as devoted and admirable a wife as Savithri had been, that her she and her husband stay together happily and forever. How strange that karadayan nombu falls on their six month anniversary? A coincidence or a sign?

And that is how the two worlds meet - mythology and reality. One directs the other and sometimes I wonder if both worlds are indeed real...

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It has a name - sexual harassment.

Here's a post that should have appeared a few days back, am a bit late for the Blank Noise Project blogathon but somethings are better off taken off my system - call it a sort of emotional catharsis.

I am shocked by the number of blogs that have been published recently on this topic. While on the one hand, it is good that so many people are taking the initiative to create awareness, it is also depressing that so many of us have been affected by this disease, for lack of a better word.

I guess it's something that we feel awkward discussing, something that we assume will vanish if we sweep it under the carpet and try to forget. But we don't forget, do we? I have extremely protective parents and still have been a victim to these dastardly acts more than once - in a crowded bus in Madras, outside Delhi railway station, even outside my own house - statistics that I can reel off my head! And try as I might, each incident stands etched clearly in my head, perhaps they exist for a reason? Perhaps these are incidents that we ought not to forget, they need to remain so that the agitation and desperate need within us to destroy this horror stays alive within us, churning deep below, ready to ebb to the surface when the situation demands.

I can't even bring myself to give this base, vile, vulgar crime a name. I hide behind "it", "disease", "crime" - let me call it what it is - sexual harassment.

Blank Noise is a small initiative taken in the right step. Maybe the strength and craving within each one of us to fight will help sustain and make this attempt a worthwhile endeavour.

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Yeh hai Bombay meri jaan...

My dad-in-law sent me a nice little collection of Hindi articles that he had collected over time from newspapers - quotations, anecdotes, words of wisdom and such. I told my bro, L about it and the chat transcript that followed was something like this:

Me: Isn't it cool that he sent me all this stuff? 'Coz I like to read and all, you know?

L: Yeah cool. Looks like he is encouraging "arbit-giri" in Bahus. What you need is a fat book on cooking recipes!

Me: !@#@#$***

Anyway, L also politely commented that my blog is escapist and that I need to focus on serious issues. So, I thought about that for sometime and tried to think of (make up) some serious stuff to write and failed quite miserably. L decided to be more lenient and suggested that I pen down my first impressions about Bombay. So, I decided I'll take a bit of that good advice and write about Bombay and about my experiences as a ahem...young bride in the city! I mention below a few incidents that I found amusing, cute, funny...generally in that genre :)

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I stepped out of Chatrapathi Shivaji airport...sunny, colorful, bustling Bombay, full of welcoming smiles and friendly people...

Yeah, you wish!

I stepped out of the airport and within a few seconds found myself seated in a taxi. I was still in a daze (read - totally apprehensive about the four days that I was to spend with my in-laws) and so only processed bits of information that was given to me.

You know how that is? Like a time gap, a void when you don't know what you did - time just skips and you are doing something else - your mind is totally blank about what happened those few moments.

Anyway, I looked down and saw that I could see the road through rusted bits of taxi-car material! I mean I could literally see the road - the taxi had a hole somewhere around the place where I rested my legs. I turned to k with a quizzical expression, one of many that I would wear upon my face, to question him about the intricacies of this quixotic city!

Me: "Err Kamal, this car has a hole at the bottom"
k: "Welcome to Bombay" (His idea of being a smart alec - Am-in-my-city-and-am-King style dialogue)
Me: (thinking - just wait till you visit Singara Chennai beta)

And along the way k filled me in with important titbits about the city - "Remember Andheri West is cool - that's where I live. Andheri East is not quite so cool!" And I realized I was going to be an expert on Bombay trivia pretty soon.

And that was how Bombay introduced itself to me.

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The next day, we met a few of k's relatives who unanimously asked me the one question that every responsible adult needs to ask the daughter-in-law:

"Yeh Gujarathi bolti he?" (Can she speak Gujarathi?)

As a keen reader, you will of course have noticed that they referred to me in the third person. So cool, I tell you! Wheee! Am invisible and someone else gets to answer all my questions!

k would then of course act out his bit of giving an embarassingly charming smile and would answer "And this is my pretty wife".

Ah! That must be the key! Give an irrelevant answer to an irrelevant question! I must try it next time, assuming am not invisible again!

The language thing is really a big deal I tell you. During our Bombay reception, an aunty in a bright golden saree walked towards us. k leaned towards me and whispered, "Pakao aunty!" (annoying aunty).

You see the key to reception bride-groom talk is brevity. You catch sight of an uncle and aunty ambling towards the stage, you have about five seconds within which to remind your spouse what their names and their kids' names are! Because you know they are going to ask you, "Do you remember me? I saw you when you were so little..." and they would vaguely point to my high heels. I quite enjoy answering these questions...

Anyway, the only info I had about pakao aunty is that she is pakao and based on that information proceeded to answer her first question, "Can the Bahu speak Gujarathi?" - I shot back with the one sentence I learned from Kamal in Gujarathi, "I can speak Gujarathi really well!". Pakao aunty seemed a bit disappointed but anyway flashed one of her winning smiles and walked back quickly.

k's mom stood next to me watching all the Gujarathi related questions and maybe thought she should make me feel more comfortable. The next couple that came to wish us happened to be a South Indian family living next to k's apartment. As soon as they came on stage, k's mom eagerly told me, "They live next door, they are South Indians" and proceeded to anxiously ask them, "Do you speak Tamil?" It so happened they did not. They spoke Malayalam :)

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And then there was the time when k had a really bright idea - "Let's show Ramya what it's like to travel in an A1 bus!" Somehow he managed to convince his parents that he should take me to Crawford market where we would buy curtains to bring back to US. I was all excited about picking the colors and patterns for the curtains. What I did not expect was that I would have travelled by foot, by auto, by car, by bus and by train to go to Crawford market and back - four hours in all!

We walked to the auto stand, caught an auto to the railway station, caught a train (Western Railway - Andheri to Churchgate) to Churchgate, then took a taxi to Crawford market and My God! If there is a place to beat Ranganathan street (Madras), it is this! Literally a sea of human faces!

Anyway, an hour later we left Crawford market and spent fifteen minutes deciding how to go home.

I hear that's a sacred Bombay tradition. To go from point A to point B in Bombay, we need to spend fifteen minutes figuring out when/how/what the best way is to reach the place. If possible, avoid the trip altogether!

After fifteen minutes, they decided the train back was not for someone as nazook (delicate) as me (!). So, we would take a taxi to the bus stand, catch the A1 bus and then catch an auto to go back home. I remember sitting in the A1 bus for what seemed an eternity.

And that was my first experience of travel in Bombay!

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The next major issue that we all dwelled in for the major part of our stay in Bombay was...food! We ate every two hours during day time - awesome food! Anyway, I had to have a problem even with that! And the problem was that I needed a healthy dose of thachi mammam (curd rice) to carry me through the day! And so everywhere that I went (we had several lunch and dinner invitations), k's sis would call in advance and make arrangements for a pot of curd and some rice to be made just for me!

Quite embarrassing!

What was more embarrassing was, once we sat down for dinner, they weren't sure when exactly I needed the curd, so in the middle of my second serving of Pav Bhaji, k's aunt would quitely enquire, "Do you want the curd now by the side?"

Anyway, now that I have set the trend, the next time I go to India, one of these two things is bound to happen - either we don't get dinner invites at all or a huge pot of curd will be put aside as soon as they invite us for dinner!
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The next issue was with my penchant (craving?) for malli poo(jasmine)! The few days that I get to spend in India, I really want to get the most of malli poo.

I kept thinking of the gundu malli sarams that they sell outside Nilgiris. So strange how I missed it more staying in Bombay than being here...

It so happens, Bombay is not a place where you can find jasmine flowers easily (unlike what k had promised me)! Atleast not in street corners and outside every temple! Just when I was about to burst into tears, his cousin saved the day by locating a flower seller just outside the railway station!. God bless him :)

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I can recall several other incidents but will stop here to constrain this post to a decent size! Oh also, looks like someone has a cool new template, is it my imagination or does this template change more than the content of this blog :) ?

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Writing experiment #0 - The Search.

I searched again today.

Yet another futile attempt.

I searched again in spaces big and small, inside my heart and outside, in sounds and in silence, in sight and behind closed eyes. I searched for a glimpse, a shadow, a word, a glance, a breath?

I found none.

Love that was everywhere - the sand that let me leave my mark on it, the breeze that kissed me without asking, the sounds of music that I carried within me, the colors of joy splashed all around me - they all came together to surround me like a warm embrace. I held on tight, knowing and not believing that there will come a time when I have to let go. So, I closed my eyes and slept like a child, dreaming dreams that kept my illusion alive. And then one day, they all left and they took with them my world of love.

It was not him that I searched for. I searched for the world that I created for myself when he was around. I searched for the lightness in my step and in my heart, for the beauty around me and within me, I searched for colors, melody, life and love. I searched for the me that lived only for him, only for those moments shared with him.

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The stars told me a story.

Playful words and sweet memories come unbidden to fill this space. I do so love to spin a tale, filled with sparks from within and the light beyond...scenes from my past or mirages of my imagination? You decide!

Something about the way he grinned…I tried to place a finger on what it tried to convey. A hint of amusement, I think. That’s the first thing I noticed. Second thing or set of things that I noticed was that he was tall, fair and bespectacled. It was my turn to be amused. How strange that he fit into my quirky teenage definition of my perfect guy, so snugly! I decided not to read more into it. The stars will tell me if things were meant to be, I decided. And as I stood hesitating, having just set foot into the United States, he smiled widely and held his hand to me, "Welcome to America" and within a few minutes followed by, "Lagta he yeh ladki padne ke liye aayi he" and then, "Lagta he yeh ladki zyada bolega nahi."

Ofcourse "yeh ladki" knew that was not the case but why spoil his delightful little illusion? So, I became the silent maiden that day.

And a few weeks later, as we walked around campus, a playful breeze seemed to touch my cheek and snuggle between us, holding our hands. I stole a glance at him and saw the same amusement in his eyes. I decided I liked him. That night, the sky seemed to sparkle, the stars perhaps did have something in mind?

He called me every evening. I would be tired and excited at the same time, bursting to tell someone, anyone my adventures of the day – I taught Calculus! Imagine a bunch of teenagers (American teenagers at that) listening to me! Each day, I had a new story to tell. Each day, he would call to listen to them. Today one of my students asked me if I was sixteen! Today, my students made such a fuss about the assignments I gave them. Today, my professor and I chatted about India, elephants, rich uncles and student life! And sometimes, I wouldn’t notice the sky changing colors outside my window, the shadows of the night peeping in, the stars come to predict some more.

It was Saturday night and my roommate and some of her friends planned to go bowling. He was going to go too. I waited for him to ask me to come but he didn’t and I fell asleep waiting. The next day, I was silent and he asked if I expected him to call me and he touched my cheek lightly as he said that. And for some strange reason, I found myself shaking my head – no, it’s ok.

And then we had our first quarrel. It would be unfair to call it a quarrel, I guess. It was more of an expression of disappointment. I don’t even remember what I expected him to do and if I was justified in expecting that…I just remember the way he leaned against the table and smiled as I declared in mock-anger that I wouldn’t go out with him because something else was more important to him. He smiled first and then laughed while trying to protest and my resolve to give him a hard time melted in the sounds of our laughter.

Within a month of my moving into the apartment, my roommate decided she had had enough of me. She got additional funding from her department and could not afford to live alone. So, she asked me to leave soon. Just that. She believed in straight talk. So, I turned to him for help and the next day we made more trips than I can remember from one apartment to another, transferring an unending pile of things. It was quite late in the night by the time we transferred everything and we just collapsed on the carpet. My roommate fell asleep immediately right there. I was happy to be in my new home and was excited and tired at the same time – I couldn’t sleep. So, we started talking sitting amidst the legs of a bed frame, suitcases and my roommate. We talked until we heard the sounds of morning, heralding a new beginning? We talked about life, ideas, people and as the sun rose higher in the sky and the stars bid goodbye, he said goodbye too. I watched him walk to his apartment and then I watched the fading stars.

I realized that night that they had just begun to tell me a story...

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Lets create some good karma!

Lets start with the definition of karma: "The total effect of a person's actions and conduct during the successive phases of the person's existence, regarded as determining the person's destiny." or "A distinctive aura, atmosphere, or feeling".

Let's try to make the definition more practical. We all want to create good karma and stay away from bad karma. So what makes good karma? Being good to people, generally speaking, creates good karma. So, how can we be good to people? Help, empathize, support, encourage - these terms in general seem to be likely candidates to create good karma. And how can I avoid bad karma? Don't hurt, insult, disparage, discourage. That's pretty clear then, you would think.

Not really.

What if I hurt someone unintentionally? What if someone hurts me unintentionally? Does that create bad karma too even when we did not intend to? How can we learn not to do that? As D~ often used to say - put yourself in the other person's shoes and walk a bit in it, get the feel of it before you say something or react to something. So, good. I do that. What if I still feel am in the good karma zone or what if the other person is not wearing my shoes? We have a clash of karmas here.

Yes, I sound like I am eighty years old. I am, I have been fooling you all with a photo taken when I was much younger! Nah...who am I kidding? If I were eighty I would be able to write an essay on karma and stuff, I wouldn't be struggling with a half-baked post on "how not to define karma".

Anyway, that's my ramble-dose inflicted on you guys for no fault of yours. Would that amount to bad karma?!

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Act 1, Scene 1.

Life or the little bit of it that I have experienced, is an interesting stage with little dramas unfolding every now and then. The scenes that are enacted on stage affect the audience in different ways depending on whether you are seated in the front row rooted to your seat and eyes locked on the stage or the last row shouting your throat hoarse making sure your noise is heard or you are one of those ushers standing at the door yawning - the same old scene for the umpteenth time. It also depends on how closely you relate to the drama on stage and to the actors themselves. And just like every play ends, every little drama in life has a closure, eventually the curtains do come down and the lights go off and sometimes we forget it ever took place.

And then there are times when I wonder if I am seated in the wrong row or maybe if I am acting a role not cut out for me or perhaps if I am in the wrong play altogether!

I just hope, when the curtains do go down, the little scenes that I played a part in and the little scenes that changed me have a meaningful story to tell.

Or as the quote in my template quotes - "Life is a moderately good play with a badly written third act -Truman Capote". Have always wondered about that.

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Names!

I: "Vedavalli"

k: "Tamil Goddess's name. I can't even scold her. Next."

I: "You go!"

k: "Krithika"

I: "Dont you know someone called Krithika?"

k: "Yeah, I still do, so?"

I: "No nooo, that won't work, haven't you seen Boys? After twenty years, when you meet her and tell her your kid's name is Krithika, she will wonder if you loved her all along, didn't tell her and named your kid Krithika. Nooo sire."

k: "After twenty years? I still am in touch with her!"

I: "Oh, anyway, how about Ragini...ooh I like Ragini."

k: "Yeah..is ok but then people will call her Rags!"

I: "So?"

k: "Next! I like Catherine!"

I: "We can't name our daughter Catherine dude!"

k: "Yeah, I was just saying I like the name. Why are we discussing only girl names? What if we get a boy?"

I: "Srinivas."

k: "Back to God names!"

An oft-repeated discussion at home. No, am not hinting anything but then it's always fun to plan in advance, especially when it comes to important things like naming your kid. Catherine is good...I actually like Florentyna better :)

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Twenty Seven!

One more year come and gone. Happy Birthday to me :) Yes, I did get a lot of the, "so, are you like 46 now?" and "Hey, know what? Am still only *random-number*..." and all that fun stuff.

This time, we didn't have the oh-so-predictable coke-chips-cake party with friends. You know what I mean? People come because you called them, they probably did not even remember that it's your birthday. So now that they have come, they are thinking of when they can leave without being rude because the next day is a working day. The card has been passed around, people have signed it, unrecognizable music is playing in the background and the some people have been brave enough to smear some cream on your face (on the tip of your nose, if you are a fussy girl, I usually got a whole bunch of cream on my face, hint, hint ;)). Ah, traditions! Now that the traditional activities have been duly completed, people are standing around in bunches waiting for the first person to leave and then there is a mass exodus!

Anyway, this year, I decided to do away with all that. Its more fun when people actually remember to wish you and ask you why there was no party.

So, what have I accomplished in these twenty-six years? If I were to vanish tomorrow, how many people will think of me? Have I left a mark behind or did I just exist? Few questions that birthdays challenge me with every year. I guess I get apprehensive not because am growing older but because I know I have to face these questions again. It's like Morrie asks Mitch (Tuesdays with Morrie) "Its like there is a little bird perched on my shoulder, asking me each day, 'If you were to die today, would you leave peacefully knowing you have done all you could have done?'" or something to that effect. And I guess the fun part of life is that the answer is -no, you have not done all that you can and that's why you live - you can do so much more and the drive keeps you going. The need for a constant challenge to feel alive, maybe we are just made to be restless, to be seeking and searching, lucky if we find inspiration and ideals to keep us occupied this lifetime, not so if time was not so gracious a host.

So, farewell to 26 and its lessons, goals, dreams and emotions - all in the past now, but also a part of me. So long and thanks for all the fish ;)

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What shall I name thee?

S~ and I were discussing the nature of relationships and he talked about relationships that have no name, some relationships that cannot be morphed to fit into a predefined slice, some relationships that lose meaning or gain a personality it doesn't possess if you try to categorize it...

And I wondered if there are indeed some relationships that we have failed to identify and classify. I wondered if it is the nature of the relationship or the inadequacy of our expression that failed to pick a name.

And today, as I talked to my Doctor about my general check-up and we discussed my health, I realized just how much trust I was placing in her hands. A stranger, yes. But a stranger that I shared something about me that I would hesitate sharing with a friend, yet placing a trust on her that would seem out of place except there. How do I categorize this relationship, that lasts just those moments spent in a bright and shining clinic room behind closed curtains?

I recently watched "Under the Tuscan Sun" and while the movie itself failed to leave a mark on me, I recalled a scene from it, an old man who comes daily to place flowers by his wife's grave and every day, he would look up and nod at Diane Lane as she watched him from her verandah. A glance of familiarity and empathy that lasted for a fraction of a second but that she looked forward to every day...a feeling that lasted only for those brief moments each day and yet it existed, it was real. What would she call this relationship?

And that made me think of all those people with no names that we run into every day at work, that we greet at the grocery store, distant aunts and uncles that we talk to for fifteen minutes once a year but take comfort in the fact that they exist - people who play a small but comforting part in our lives.

Here's my curtsey to them for completing the circle of my life. And a curtsey to all the people with names, that fill my little circle with meaning.

And as I am wont to doing, here's an article that left an impact on me, only vaguely related to this post. I just hope those nameless relationships in my lives won't go away like Paul, I hope I get a chance to say what I want to say to those people with no names. And even more so with the others...

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Wickedly yours!

In general I would prefer to be a boy. I have expressed this several times in the past, have even blogged about it (nah, it was not that great, so I won't bother to post a link to it). But then there come times such as Feb 15th when it's almost fun to be a girl.

You see, guys have this huge memory problem. They forget what they should not and remember what they should forget. How did this guy get out in the test match played a zillion years ago between Zimbabwe and yawn...SriLanka - pat comes the answer!

When is my birthday?

"Err...you are a Taurean because you are beautiful...wait, you are a Gemini..heh heh, of course because my mom is a Gemini..."

And this, when I am a Piscean. Yes, I know that's exaggerated a tad, but who cares? :)

Anyway, coming back to guys and Valentine's day - it's fun to get a really cute gift on Valentine's day. Sometimes, it's more fun to not get a gift. Then you get to trouble your guy with meaningful remarks, harmless insinuations and innocent-sounding questions, reminding him each time that he forgot. He forgot!

(I am in a devilish mood now, oh come on now, don't tell me, you don't feel like being naughtily evil once in a while!)

So,when he forgets, don't waste that opportunity with silly emotional dialogues like, "How could you forget?!", that's all old school and it doesn't work anyway. Instead, you can send him a link to related blog posts to remind him that he forgot or if you are in the mood that I currently am in today, you can plan something more elaborate!

So, you have a little gathering and you can ask one of your girlfriends, "Hey, what did you guys do for Valentine's day?" and then ignore her answer and then launch into your pre-planned response, "Oh, my husband forgot to give me a gift for Valentine's day. That's ok...poor thing has so much on his head..." and then sprinkle a little bit of, "Oh yes, I gave him a gift!" and "He loved it...poor thing felt bad that he forgot, you know?"

And just loud enough so people in the room get to hear it. And the evil me is all the while gleefully rubbing hands in my head. The satisfaction of that set-up is something that a cutesy little gift can just not give you!

I can give several such instances. Say, he is watching a game and you interrupt knowing you probably should not (somewhat like Kate Hudson, when she asks for a diet Coke in How to lose a guy in 10 days!) and then he just doesn't respond or responds with, "Not now, it's a touchdown!" and then you have your little plot! After the game, you can always tell him how rude he was to you (Of course he wouldn't remember a word of the conversation that ensued during the game), so feel free to spice-up the conversation, and then he will try to bribe you,

"I shouldn't have said that.." (with a sufficiently forlorn look that fools no one but we play the game anyway :)

And then you say, "I felt hurt..."

And he goes, "Let me make up to you by cooking tonite!" and if you are lucky,

"And doing the dishes!"

And then you can say, "Ha! Caught you!" (in your head, not aloud!) and aloud you say, "Ok, if you think that will make you feel better..."

and then walk slowly towards your novel, snuggle back into your favourite position on the couch and relax.

It's all the way you play your cards!

Gosh, What has gotten into me today? I sound like one of those wily, scheming wives in bad Tamil movies! Am going to make up for these thoughts by cooking a good dinner tonight!

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Valentine's day bloopers :)

*** video removed, you are too late :) ***

Posting this when k is playing his volleyball game blissfully unaware of the fact that his little Valentine-blooper video has gone live!

So the story begins with me trying to surprise k by picking three hindi songs that begin with the word "Piya" and translating them to English as a Valentine's day gift (if I can call it that). The three songs I picked were Piya tose naina lagi re, Piya bina piya bina and Piya bole piyu bole.

He doesn't know that the songs I have translated are Hindi songs, so he tries his hand at Tamil, tries to create a song with "kanmani" and a selected few other words that he has probably heard often in Tamil movie songs.

By the end the hour, I am wondering if he is working on an assignment or I am! All said and done, quite an entertaining little experiment!

In the video, the initial lines he is struggling with are:

Beloved! my eyes have met your,
Who knows what happens in the future?
Holi is here, bringing with it its colors aplenty
But, without you, Holi seems just empty,

a rough translation for:

Piyaa Tose Nainaa Laage Re, Nainaa Laage Re
Jaane Kyaa Ho Ab Aage Re, Nainaa Laage Re
Ho, Aa, Ho, Aai Holii Aai Ho, Sab Ra.Ng Laai
Bin Tere Holii Bhii Na Bhaae, Ho

I keep diverting him to the word, "Piya" hoping he will get a clue, all in vain :) In the end, he hums, "Piya tose" and then quickly gets sidetracked with "Holi".

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Rang De Basanti (*Loads of potential spoilers*)

"Ek Onkar..." meaning God is one...A haunting prayer, the Golden temple filling the screen - a treat to my eyes and ears. Completely mesmerizing!



Closely linked to this scene - Kiran Kher has a black string tied to her middle and ring fingers and it comes loose and she knows something is wrong...the shadow of concern that crosses her face says it all.


Amir Khan has done a great job, which I have come to expect of him. His punjabi accent is delectable, his flirting skills excellent in this movie :) Love the scene where he calls her "Gulabo" casually and she responds smiling.



And coming to the "she", Alice Patten has done an amazing job! Realistic, charming portrayal of a passionate student caught in circumstances that changes her life!


Siddharth - has a heavy role in this movie that he carries to perfection! Loved the scene where Sharman Joshi (Sukhi) accuses him of using them and he collapses against the rock, his cool, dont-care facade broken by his friend's words. Absolutely loved him in this movie (didnt know he went to DAV too and my batch, '96) - imagine that)!

Madhavan was a pleasant surpise (somewhat like Karthik in Mouna Ragam...). Waheeda Rehman excelled in the scene where she almost trips and falls when the officers stand outside her door, conveying the news that she never wanted to hear.

The first half of the movie reminded me of Dil Chahta He and Bits more than anything else; the second half reminded me of Lagaan and Mudhalvan.

The whole theatre cracked up at the "cow" joke that Kiran Kher delivers to Amir Khan, busy talking to their cow, "Chup kar abhi nahi tho vo kal doodh nahi degi!"

Rakeysh Mehra (Director) and Kamlesh Pandey (Story) have come up with a really innovative theme tying patriotism, history, religion, college life, corruption, love...I can go on. The movie has some flaws, if you want to nitpick (beating up the people organizing a peaceful demonstration, the shooting at the end...) but the good and great scenes more than make up for it. Kunal Kapoor and Atul Kulkarni create magic on screen when they fight and when they embrace. Several scenes made my eyes fill up...

Some movies are such that several days after you have watched them, the scenes, dialogues, music keep playing in your head and its as if you just go about your day floating superficially and the reality is whats in your head...today is one such day for me, Rang De Basanti is one such movie.

Music to dance to, to hum along with for a long time to come - another great job by A.R.Rehman (Luka Chupi, Roobaroo, Loose control - like all of them for different reasons!).

Loved the last scene with Siddharth and Amir Khan, "Saala Nautanki"...and as Sue puts it, "Sometimes the breeze carries with it sounds of laughter..."

"And of tears, beauty, music, passion...and sprinkles on us the magic that only the Indian silver screen can create."

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Warning - a womanly post!

I am not a parent and I will never know exactly what it feels like to be a parent until I have a child of my own (That was my original title - On being a parent - I changed my mind). That's what everyone says. Our generation is such that getting married is increasingly being viewed as a commitment, a decision irreversible, final and hence to be taken with utmost care, so much so that people seem to be missing out on the fun of the whole process. Single guys and girls seem to be scared to commit.

Easy for me to claim, you say. You are married and have put the tension behind you, you say, shooting me your best accusing look. True but that won't prevent me from observing and commenting :) But, I digress. I want to write about being a parent, on caring for a child, which brings me back to fears that our generation (which of course includes me) seems to entertain enthusiastically.

Someday I will write about that but for today, I just changed my mind again. What I really want to talk about is about a woman and her child. Really, by now you should have given up on expecting what I really ask you to expect at the beginning of a post :) Anyway, here goes more 1 AM randomness.

Which woman is ready to have her first child really? We are all apprehensive, scared, nervous wondering if we are ready to handle the "responsibility". We, who have been selfish all our lives, now worried for the first time that we cannot get up when we want, do what we want and live a life without planning ahead - a movie today, hang out with friends tomorrow, eat out the day after - and what happens when we have a baby?

We view it more as an event that will curtail our freedom, force us to shoulder responsibilities that we are not ready for, because we are too busy taking care of ourselves!

And so we have the sixteen year old who baby-talks with her older friend's child and then wonders how she manages it all, "I can never do that!", she convinces herself in her mind; we have the twenty year old woman who looks at the diapers, stroller, burp cloths and shakes her head to herself, "I have a lot of time left for this, am just not ready!" and we have the twenty-six year old woman carrying her sister's three-day-old baby in her arms, looking at its reddish little face, hardly distinguishable features, clump of black hair on its tiny head and wondering, "Gosh, is it time for me too? How will I ever prepare myself for this?"

And then one day, its your turn - pregnancy, baby, diaper and all. And I guess, that day, you know you are ready when you hold your child close to you for the very first time! (You better be!)

And vaguely related to this outpour, k & I were exchanging childhood stories and how our parents managed to put up with us and I recalled this image of my dad sitting on his scooter, reading kumudam under a dim street light, right outside KSR's IIT-mathematics class (in Nungambakkam?)...he was always waiting for me outside but somedays I would be fifteen minutes late, some days half an hour late and I would walk out with my friends, discussing topics that surrounded a fifteen-year old's world...very rarely, I would stop talking when I walked out, say bye to my friends and for a few seconds think about what I did to deserve him. Very rarely though. But, today, for some reason, the memory hit me with full intensity...

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Non-Conversations!

Do you ever run a conversation in your head before it actually happens? I recently realized that I do that a lot! Even for silly little conversations that I know are going to take place, I seem to be creating two little people in my head with a passable likelihood to the other person whom I am going to talk to and me, and the two little people actually carry on the conversation in my head and then the real-life conversation happens.

And this is annoying. Its like you always have to guess the ending of a movie or a book, you don't have to, but you do anyways and often, the ending is wrong or just way off from what the actual ending is! Or as Joey put it, "You are so far off from the line, the line is not a line anymore, it's a dot!"

So, now not only do I have the little people talking in my head, the little people are talking things that real people are most probably not going to talk! For example, if I am going to talk to a girl to invite her for afternoon tea (no, I have never invited anyone over for "afternoon tea" but since this is a silly example, anyway, let's see how silly we can get :)

Me: Hi little person one, how about coming over for afternoon tea?
Her: Ok but I also wanted to tell you that your short story was silly.
Me: Oh ok, which one?
Her: All of them, especially the one in which everyone is laughing for no reason.
Me: Oh but there is a hidden meaning there...did you get it?

And so on, you get my drift? And now I start thinking if my short story was really silly and if everyone was indeed laughing without a reason. See? Unnecessary trails leading to nowhere. Not that I would think important thoughts otherwise, but just that I would like the time to think about not-important thoughts that I choose to think about rather than those imposed on me by myself, when I least expect it!

I think the only way I can beat the two little people to the conversation is by having an impulsive conversation! Start talking to someone about something before I know I am going to do it! Yes, that seems like it would work...

Oh well, now I need to listen to the conversation that the little people (me and k) are having in my head since I know that I am going to show this post to him and since I have to run the conversation in my head already, am doing that.

Excuse me while I listen to k and me talk about what we really will not be talking about!

Sigh.

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A million thoughts on a canvas...

It's snowing outside, a million flakes drifting down to embrace my world, a million beautiful indications that beauty is everywhere, that miracles happen, that life is worth living, if only we open our eyes to it...

Today, after a long time, I have some time to myself - just the snow outside and me, time to introspect, time to ponder but just now, I don't want to think, I just want to watch the snow fall, to create my very own christmas; I wish the million thoughts in my head would drift away too, to wisps of nothingness or settle down to create a canvas as white, as enchanting, as the canvas drawn in front of my eyes now...shhh, no thoughts today, just the snow and me.

For some strange reason, I am reminded of these lines from a comment posted on my blog, ages ago it seems now, in response to my need for a blank, clear mind, one not so confused, not so jumbled...

Jumble of twine, colorful and bright,
makes your weaving a beautiful sight.
Were your twine, white and sane,
would your tapestry be the same?

A verse that made me smile that day...and today I am back to where I was, revisiting old thoughts, requesting yet again, for a white canvas and I send my yen out to the white world outside, asking them if they will help me weave a beautiful tapestry from the broken bits and pieces that lie abandoned in my head...

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Books and such.

"Words are all I have to take your heart away..."

And how they take my heart away!

I have been reading a number of books by Indian authors, mostly relevant to Indians settled in America - The Mistress of Spices and The Unknown Errors of our Lives (Chitra Divakaruni), The Namesake and The Interpreter of Maladies (Jhumpa Lahiri) - I can relate to them in a way that I sometimes cannot relate to, in books from non-Indian authors...

Anyway, these lines from The Mistress of Spices stayed back with me (never seen the word "love" used in the plural form)...

Earlier novels that I enjoyed reading, also by Indian authors include The Mango Season by Amulya Maladi and Monsoon Diary - a memoir with recipes by Shobha Narayanan.

While on the subject of books, found this interesting link about the best first lines in novels!

And as k pointed out, rightly, they left out one of the best opening lines of all times:

"What can you say about a twenty-five year old girl who died? That she was beautiful and brilliant. That she loved Mozart and Bach. The Beatles. And me."

Will write something more substantial soon, when inspiration strikes me :)

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The Circle of Familiarity - On Lexington and Me.

What story do I tell you,
When bits and pieces clutter anew,
My whimsy, my muse, my confused mind,
Tell me my story, do be so kind!

Thus I ask my mind, to clean out old words, heard but not forgotten; to clear out the cobwebs of unwanted memories; to weave from the few threads that border on sanity, to discern hidden among my nascent thoughts - silly and serious, a story sane enough for me to recount here...

Guilty as charged - I am sleepy and muddled and have no idea why I am writing something that is careening pretty much towards barely understandable trails of thought, but look carefully and perhaps you will notice hints of sanity hidden amidst this hazy cloud of incoherence. Perhaps not.

And so today's story is about our sleepy little town, Lexington. Five years of going to UK (University of Kentucky), spending sleepless nights on assignments, graduating, getting a job here, getting married, making friends and it's hard for me to say that I am not "attached" to the place. I wonder how I will handle the day when I have to leave Lexington for good, it seems such a distant possibility. But sometimes life springs a surprise on us when we least expect it and we are left mulling over possible courses of action that we had not even dreamed about a few moments back...but I ramble, I write this post not because I am leaving Lexington but because people around me are leaving this place, leaving behind little pockets of voids...some hard to fill, some just making me uncomfortable for reasons I am still trying to understand.

We don't often think about all the people who constitute our so-called community, some just exist in it's circumference for us, filling it in to give it shape - a kind of completeness. We feel comfortable knowing the circle is complete, living, breathing in and out to let in more people, happy with more participants, willingly joining hands with new comers. We sometimes notice the addition, the change, sometimes we don't. It's when they leave that we take a note and something fleeting grips us suddenly and gives life to unspoken fears - fear that the circle that we exist in for the past so many years is dwindling away slowly, fear that a familiar face and a welcoming smile is being taken away from us...and then the feeling passes and the circle re-arranges itself and we exist in a new state of equilibrium, interacting - sometimes, superficially and sometimes, seriously with the people around us...

But how long will this circle last if the points that constitute it slowly fade away, one by one? Will it still be as it is - dynamic and alive? Perhaps just existing without anchoring oneself to the circle will help us disengage from it when the need arises? But then what about now when I wish to be at it's core? Will I not miss out on life if I hold back now to be secure in the future?

Confusing. Agreed. Insane? You tell me.

Anyway, here's hoping, more familiar faces and to-be familiar faces join us in the circle here in Lexington...and here's also hoping that Dinesh, Prabhu, Deepa, Trix and Ashok form their own circle of familiarity wherever they are :)

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Sky, Toast, TV, Earth and a Story - talk about overloading!

I drove alone today, after a long time and I chose the right time to drive too. The sky decided to experiment with the right shades of colors - a bright pink and orange right in front of me, as if I am driving towards its core, to a less distinct, paler shade of orange and hints of blue, a sudden shift to a dark blue and finally a greyish black cover, just as I parked.

Nice.

And I walked in to find crispy brown toasts and hot tea all set nicely at the table, thanks to k, who decided to be a work-at-home husband today.

Also nice.

No, not just because its fun to work from home but because we got our new television delivered home today. So, I watched, amazed at how big my TV looked compared to the tiny box we had earlier.

Realllly nice.

But my post today is not about the perfect shade of pink or crispy bread slices or the wide-screen TV. Its about saving the earth :) In reply to Dinesh's tag (and am still wondering what made him think that I could come up with 3 ways to save the earth! Maybe its because I dwell so much on trivialities, he wanted to see how incongruous a post on saving the earth would look like, in this space :),

* Firstly, why save the earth? For posterity, of course! OK, so if we are doing something for our future generations, we need to make sure that there is some entity that can be termed "future generation" or in other words, assuming some natural calamity doesn't make mankind perish, we need to first make sure, we don't kill ourselves and leave the earth safe but empty :) (Yeah, yeah, drama, alright but a tiny point hidden in the drama.)

There are a million ways, a million reasons for which men hurt men. Am going to just touch upon one - hate crimes. For example, crimes inflicted due to racial prejudices. More relevant and real to NRIs like us. So, what can we do? Teach our kids to not make the mistakes that people make today (and that ofcourse involves teaching ourselves to respect, in the real sense of the word, people who are not like us - how many times have you heard people say, "Oh xyz, thats a totally ----- area!") Yes, they do that at school but perhaps we can be more careful before making statements that even insinuate such things. Maybe we teach them, sincerely, to not be prejudiced, not because that is "right" but because we "feel" it is right.

* OK, back to specifics. Have you ever noticed how people (mis)use the toilet tissue dispensers in restrooms? I mean its almost funny in a "seinfeld" kind of sense - its as if they are drawing water from a well using a rope - pull with your left, then your right, then your left, in fast forward, until there is no more paper left! I mean, come on! Am all for being clean but this is the limit! Keep doing this and you won't have the one square (tissue) that you desperately need (remember that Seinfeld episode with Elaine?) :)

* Carpool - If you use public transport to get to work, great! If not, atleast car-pool! I know its tricky - you have to work out the going time, the returning time and make sure you are comfortable car-pooling but once that's done, it might actually work and make for a less boring drive to work!

And that's that. Three things that my little mind could come up with to save the earth (Aarti, hope this is in the spirit of what you began, apologies if not). And now, the fun part - I tag Kamal, Bus and Kumari to see what they can come up with!

And oh yeah, the story, it's here, do check it out :)

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Conversationally speaking...

Ever been in a situation where you say something slightly out of the ordinary, hoping that people will join in, nod their heads wisely in consent and say, "Ah, yes! I always felt that"?

But then what actually happens is that they first look at you blankly as if you just spoke in bits of Chinese to them. And then they exchange the exact same look with each other, as if everyone in the room spoke bits of Chinese but everyone only understood Latin.

And then, just when you are sufficiently embarassed, one of them tries to make you feel better by offering you a response, along the lines of,

"Err...No, not really" and then looking embarassed themselves.

"Really? Is that what you felt? Have you been eating properly?", with a look of concern.

"Am sorry, did you say something?" and coughing.

Fun!

Especially, when you are not the one who spoke the initial bits of Chinese.

Someone else did. You just get to watch it and blog about it :)

And if this feels like Chinese to you. Let me try to explain with an example. Remember that scene in Friends where Ross and Chandler decide to "confide" to each other just like the girls? And then Chandler says something totally inappropriate, thinking Ross is going to jump in and agree and Ross goes, "Dude! you are weird!"

Exactly that.

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Coincidences, Irony, Life and such.

"All of these telephones seem to be out of order.", he tells me, an understanding nod, he knows how it feels to not be able to say goodbye. One more time.

Strange, this need to call back home just after you have said your goodbyes and all. Something about hearing my mom's concerned voice asking if the flight is on time and my dad's gruff voice, trying to hide the pang of separation, yet again...something about the tinny voices that makes me feel that I am still at home, as if still holding on to the sights and sounds that are so familiar to me, sometimes, I fear I have no identity without them...

Ofcourse, the airport with the bizarre sights and sounds that it offers is a place that has an identity of its own. It helps me distract myself from that taut feeling I get, as if I am leaving behind something I never should. The bored looking security guy scanning the luggages in, the loud family of four flying for the first time and unable to hide their excitement, the strikingly beautiful girl who is checking her wrist watch for the third time, an expression on her face that conveys quite clearly, she has done this too often to be interested and finally, the appropriately dressed fifty-something uncle who sits next to me, unperturbed by the announcement that Air India Flight 121 is delayed by forty-five minutes, the same uncle who had tried unsuccessfully to make a phone call earlier. Maybe he did not hear the announcement.

So, I tell him, "Looks like the flight is delayed."

"Flight 121? Oh, I see..."

And then there is a pause, which usually marks the end of these conversations for me. But this time, I am bored and have time to kill, so, I say, "Yes, are you going to Chicago too?"

"No, I catch the connecting flight at Bombay, to Sydney."

And so we exchange such banalities, only partially concentrating on the conversation. We discuss Lexington, H1B visas, cost of living in New York vs Lexington, life in the United States, India and Sydney and I suprise myself by finding topics that I could discuss with this stranger twice my age, for so long. And then the topic takes a turn to marriages because he asks if I am travelling with someone and I tell him, that I just got married and my husband will be joining me at Bombay (that happens, atleast the first few days after you are married, you somehow can't resist the impulse to declare the fact to the world :)

Anyway, he says, "Oh, my son just got married, september 15th, at Geetha Bhawan."

"Oh, I got married on September 14th." (There I go again)

"I see. The boy is also from Madras?" (I should have figured this question was next)

"He is from Bombay."

"I see. He speaks Hindi?"

"Oh, he understands quite a bit of Tamil" (Why? Why the need to convey this bit of information to this random uncle? I will never know)

"My daughter-in-law is not an Indian."

For the first time, I remain silent. I am surprised. He just did not look like the kind of father-in-law who would have a non-Indian daughter-in-law, you know what I mean?

"Yes, she got married Indian style though. She is a vegetarian, which is important to us. We like her, my wife and I. My wife is very religious, she wanted only an Iyer girl."

"I see." (Its my turn for "I see")

And then, on an impulse, I ask, "Your wife...has she adjusted to this marriage?"

"Oh yes. She is very happy now. She took longer than me to adjust ofcourse. But, what does it matter if the girl is a Romanian? My son likes her, she is a vegetarian and she is quite understanding. She even wore a madisar for her wedding and specifically asked my wife for all the Indian-style bridal jewellery..."

And then it strikes me. Of course. When you least expect it, life delivers a delightful little quirk in your lap.

"Are you Narasimhan uncle's friend?"

"Yes, from Indonesia?"

"Yes! Is your son's name Karthik?"

"Yes..." and he looks surprised now.

"Narasimhan uncle...I mean he is my uncle. I am Ramya."

And now you ask me why I brought up my first name in the midst of all this. And I will tell you why. My uncle had sent my jadagam (kundli) to this very same couple to see if I was a likely match for their son, Karthik! We did not hear back from them though. Now, I know why :)

"Oh, you are that Ramya!", he says

And we both laugh.

"And that would make you, my could-have-been father-in-law", I smile mischievously.

He retorts back with, "And now I know what I missed."

We both are silent for sometime, both immersed in our own thoughts. And then he says,

"My wife, she insisted on an Iyer daughter-in-law only. Your aunt told her you were probably more inclined towards an Iyengar style of marriage and so she was hesitant..."

And I muse over the irony of his statement. We talk some more but are now distracted by what we have discovered.

The flight finally does arrive. We leave without saying goodbye.

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ஆண்டாள் (Andaal)

"பச்சை மா மலை போல் மேனி, பவழ வாய் கமல செங்கண்,
அச்சுதா அமரரேறே, ஆயர்தம் கொழுந்தே என்னும்,
இச்சுவை தவிர யான் போய் இந்திர லோகமாளும்,
அச்சுவை பெறினும் வேண்டேன், அரங்கமா நகருளானே!"

"Now say it again with me, child", Vishnuchittar turns to his daughter and she sings the verses flawlessly, not once faltering, eyes closed, a mischievous smile playing on her lips.

It seems just like yesterday that Bhoomadevi blessed me with this angel...and here she is now, singing in so mellifluous a voice...", he looks at the Lord and folds his hands in gratitude...

***
Dawn, a time most auspicious, a time to surrender completely to Him, a time when the golden rays of the sun and the fresh green of nature mingle to create heaven on earth, when peace and clarity fills the soul...it was dawn that a pious brahmin in Villiputtur (near Madurai), Vishnuchittar (Periyazhwar) found a beautiful girl child nestled among the tulasi plants in his garden. Being childless, Vishnuchittar and his wife considered the child, Kodai (daughter of earth), a gift from Bhoomadevi.

Vishnuchittar, being an ardent devotee of Lord Krishna imparted to Kodai, his own love for Lord Krishna. Each day, he went to his garden and collected flowers to adorn the Lord and Kodai would prance along with him delighted at the prospect of seeing the Lord. Each day, as Vishnuchittar sang in praise of Lord Krishna, as he told her stories of Lord Krishna, the child's fascination for the Lord grew.

Lips as red as corals, eyes as beautiful as a lotus...

And each day, the Lord would grow more beautiful in her eyes, each day she would long to see him, to praise him and to be with him. Each day, before her father came to adorn the Lord with the flower garlands, she would don it on herself and look at her reflection in the mirror - Lord Krishna will wear this very same garland..., she would think to herself and smile, happy to be near anything that will adorn her dear Lord. That day, Vishnuchittar happened to come to the temple earlier than expected and he was shocked to see Kodai wearing fresh flowers meant for the Lord.

"Kodai, what have you done? How will the Lord forgive me now? These are flowers meant only for Him! Now, I shall have to go get some more flowers for Him...what have you done?"

Kodai could not understand why her father was so upset. She was sad to see her father adorn the Lord with flowers that she had not worn on herself.

That night, as Vishnuchittar fell into a troubled sleep, the Lord appeared in his dream, "அவள் சூடிக் கொடுத்த சுடர்க் கொடி! அவள் ஆண்டாள்! அவள் என்னை ஆண்டாள்!"

Hearing the Lord declare that he considered the flowers worn by Andal and Andal herself more precious to him than anything else, Vishnuchittar realized that his daughter is perhaps destined to be more than what he gave her credit for. From the next day, he let Andal wear the flowers and then he would offer them to the Lord.

As Andal thought about Lord Krishna day and night, Lord Krishna started appearing before Andal and playing with her - he would kick the mud castles that she would build and tease her, he would disappear suddenly, as she cried, "கண்ணா! உன்னை காண வேண்டும் போல இருக்கிரதே கண்ணா!" and then He would appear behind her and hug her from behind and console her...Andal's childhood was thus filled with His games and mischievousness.
***
As she grew up to be a beautiful young woman, her love for the Lord grew stronger until one day, she resolutely declared to her father that she would marry none other than the Lord himself.

"I belong with him!", she declared and Vishnuchittar worried about his daughter. That night, the Lord appeared in his dream again and told him that his daughter was destined to be His bride.

Vishnuchittar was at the same time happy to see his daughter's dream come true and sad that she would no longer be with him - a father's mixed feelings. The next day, Vishnuchittar took Andal, in full bridal glory, to SriRanganathar at SriRangam. And Andal became one with the Lord that day (Koodaravalli).

***
A post for the month of Marghazhi :) Many thanks to my mom and dad for their stories and enthusiasm (the mistakes are all mine though!) :)

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Death and Life and such - scene 2 from my head.

Death is not something I am comfortable with. For that matter, it is something that not many of us are comfortable with or have made peace with. I don't discuss it, I don't like to see it happen in movies, I don't even like to write about it and even if I do, it is with considerable effort that I do.

And why such a morbid topic to talk about? Well, all I wanted to do was write another post like the previous one, about my days at Bits and the one memory that I tried to keep avoiding, that is still clear in my mind, is one involving death. The one scene that keeps coming back to me is one of my closest friend, holding the telephone receiver tightly and crying as she kept repeating, "இருக்கவே முடியாது! நீங்க தப்பா சொல்லரேங்கோ! அப்பா உடம்புக்கு என்ன? சொல்லுங்கோ!" - she had just heard from her relatives that her dad was critically ill.

And that was my first introduction to the realities of life. At that point, all I wanted to do was run away, laugh hysterically, do anything to not hear her voice. But I did stay there, I did hear her voice and later when she came back after a month, I did manage to make her feel better.

The day before she returned, my friends and I decided that we would try our best to cheer her up and so we did the last thing that people expected us to do, we decorated her room, doodled on the walls, wrote anything that we thought would make her laugh - filled her space with the trivial pleasures that life is sometimes kind enough to let us indulge in. And when she came back and saw her room, she did laugh.

A few days later, she told me, "ரம்யா, எல்லாரும் என்னை பாவம் மாதிரி பாக்கரா...எனக்கு பிடிக்கவே இல்லை..." (Ramya, everyone looks at me with pity, I dont like it at all...) I don't remember what words of wisdom(?), consolation (or the very lack of it) escaped my mouth that day but I promised myself that I would not make the same mistake. And while I was not mature enough to handle anything this grave, I was glad she confided in me. I felt closer to her that day than I ever had in the past.

We tried to help, in our own little ways, in the only ways we could...we tried to help knowing we would never feel what she feels until destiny chooses us next to play its cruel game on. Destiny, a single word for all that we cannot make sense of - the present, the past, life and death...

And that concludes scene #2 in my head.

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Itsy Bits-y post - scene 1 from my head.

Sometimes, I surprise myself by the clarity and vividness with which I can recall memories, more like moments, scenes be it from a few days ago or several years ago, it's all there in full color and I remember the most mundane details - the color of my dress that day, the background sounds, even fleeting thoughts that ran across my head that moment, many years ago...

I remember that I wore a white salwaar kameez with small purple flowers in it, I remember that I was standing in Meera Bhawan (Bits) and carrying a green plastic bucket in my hand and my dad was giving me some more advice about living in a hostel, away from home...and then I saw him. He had not worn his glasses that day and I remember thinking that he looked better with his glasses on. For a second, I forgot how awkward I looked carrying the bucket, forgot every other sound and presence around me and I blushed. All the sweet innocence and color that a sixteen year old can muster, when her eyes meet the eyes of yet another sixteen year old boy that she was hoping very much that she would run into, "by chance", rose up my face.

And while that moment was fantastic and embarassing at the same time, since my dad followed my line of my sight and proceeded to ask me, "Hey, doesn't he look familiar? Let me go talk to him and see if he shares some common classes with you" and it took me a while to dissuade him, the memory stayed back - pristine and perfect.

And I still wonder why I remember the moment as I do now. The boy is forgotten, the feeling is archived - stored as a bit of memory, pleasant to recall but difficult to reproduce now, the sixteen year old girl is ten years older now...still, the memory remains, like many others, painting itself in front of my eyes, as if it happened yesterday...

Strange, what the mind decides to store and what it rejects :)

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One day to 2007!

Stop!

It's 2006!

Are you still doing the same things that you did in 2005 that you promised yourself you wouldn't carry over to 2006? Then, stop! Do what you love, channelize your creative energy, join a class, write cute little notes to your loved ones and tell them "I love you" everyday until they start giving you this really strange look and ask you if you are alright.

Yes, we have all read all these inspiring stories and talks about doing what you love and basically, everything that I mentioned above that I don't care to repeat. And then you are really inspired for those four minutes after you read the article and you look around you with steel grit and iron determination (and other metals that are really strong and also easy to remember, unlike zirconium, which makes for a really bad adjective) and you thump once on your table to seal your resolve. Then, while you realize that you really need to clean your table, judging by the dust particles that just jumped up when you thumped, you also realize that this is not the first time that you resolved to do something different in life!

As moments turn into days and days into little chunks of monotony easily forgotten, you also end up forgetting your resolve to do something different, to make a difference in your life.

And I ask, what better day than...err, the third day of the new year (I knew I should have written this post on Jan 1st!), to question what we do and more importantly, what we are not doing!

So, go on, join that pottery class, call up Michaels for the next painting session, do your laundry, vacuum the carpet...that didn't sound right, sorry, that's just a part of my daily-chores-list and not be-creative-list. Where was I? Yeah, just do your thing, surprise yourself and do something you wouldn't normally do.

See, I knew I was bad at this inspiring-speech business. So, I'll just stick to what I do best - write random stuff. Yup, I do a great job at that!

And remember you have 362 days to make a difference but that doesn't mean you have to wait that long. Just pretend you have just one day left in 2006 and do what you would do then (hopefully you are not thinking of just getting drunk and waiting for 2007 :)

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A new beginning...an ignorable post!

There goes one of my new year resolutions - to be on time, be it to a party or to write a post :) I've been meaning to write this post since last year (I know, sorry, I just couldn't resist the "last-year" joke in this post), anyway, here goes...

Wish you all a very happy new year. I hope 2006 is a year that sees us achieve atleast some of our dreams, personal legends (from The Alchemist - I believe we can have more than one!), that makes us dream bigger, better dreams, that brings us closer to friends and family, that helps us forgive and forget those that we should...that keeps us happy and at peace with ourselves.

I watched a bunch of good movies the past few weeks - Casablanca (thanks to Senthil), Must love dogs and Flavors (thanks to Arun) - liked them all, do watch.

And tomorrow will see me keep up one of my new year resolutions - am going to join YMCA tomorrow and gosh, am so excited about it!!! (man! even saying that and the additional exclamation marks do not generate even a touch of enthusiasm in me about exercising - I just hope its not as mind-numbingly boring as I fear it would be).

And 2006 has now seen me write one of my most unrelated, disconnected and inconsequential posts of all times - I promise to do better as the year proceeds :)

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