Life's like that

The Iyer clan

2009-05-19T23:55:00.003+05:30

It was a rainy evening. Dhwani and I were fooling around while my mum was fixing dinner in the kitchen. She is all of one and a half but talks like a paati (granny) already.

So she has this erasable slate with a magnetic pencil which is her current favorite amongst her toys. She would scribble violently and incessantly for hours believing that she is writing something really meaningful. And once bored, the slate would go flying from one end of the room to the other end or it would get beaten up or stamped upon or tortured in the third degree in some other mechanism. Its quite commendable that the slate has roughed it out thus far.

So I was drawing some images and letting her guess what they were and when I was running out of ideas, I hit upon the idea of writing her name and asking her to guess. This one was easy. My maid would write her name everyday and this one was a piece of cake. And said aloud "DHWANI IYER" with an air of pride.

I deleted her name and put mine and asked her what it was. And it did not take her a moment to proclaim it again as 'DHWANI IYER'. So I corrected her saying this is "A~ IYER" which she reluctantly accepted.

Now I thought I'll pain her some more and put her appa's name there and ask her what that was. Now she gave it a thought for a few moments and looked around and triumphantly announced "UMA PAATI* IYER".

*PAATI = Granny. (my mum in this case)

Brand new day

2009-03-02T18:45:00.004+05:30

"Say Sunday, kutti**."

"un-day"

"Monday"

"munday"

"Tuesday"

"tuech-day"

"Wednesday"

"wedded-day"

"Thursday"

"her-day"

"Friday"

"fie-day"

"Saturday"

"saded-day"

And what's after Saturday, kutti?

*A triumphant reply after small pause*
"BUD-DAY" (birthday in adult language)

Just when one started to believe that 24 hours are not enough... :-)

**kutti - loosely translated to little one

La-D-da

2009-02-12T18:25:00.004+05:30

Dearest D,

I know, I haven’t really written much about you in these spaces. And this is no special occasion either. You are 15-running-on-16 months old. And I always believed I would never do justice to describe something I feel very strongly about. But some day I would love you to look at this and realize what a little darling terrorist you are turning out to be. Terrible twos are christened with a reason, I guess. In your case, I can easily move it to a year earlier.

I remember the day that you were born when I saw you in half-conscious delirium after a 16 hour marathon labor. And what I remember distinctly is, barely a few minutes old and you were all eyes-wide-open and looking around curiously trying to figure where your cramped, dark, familiar confines in mommy’s tummy had vanished. I had never seen a freshly born baby even attempt to open the eyes for more than a second or two. And you, after the initial bout of cries and checkups, were ready to take on the world "Ok! I am finally out and packed into a parcel with funny noisy things hovering over me, poking me, touching me. Now what next?".

And that attitude is still so evident in you and I see it everyday. You manage to make yourself at home wherever you go, whether it is in the cozy confines of your crib or a rickety bus ride to Guruvayoor or in extreme heat or extreme cold. All that needs to cheer you up is the option to go odi-odi (odi - run in tamil) and favorite bottle of milk. Sometimes I am put to shame with the amount of stuff you put up with and just take it in your stride. Of course you are also a touch-me-not of the highest order. You have a rather complex assessment process on whether the person is worth being friends with or not. And it is strange that you seem to bond with people I bond with and are indifferent to people I don’t care too much about and I have no hand in trying to influencing you in any way.

Its nice to see you developing as your own person. Especially, knowing what you want and when you want. Even if it is about wanting mummy to sing London Bridge or Yankee Doodle while putting you to sleep or whether you want paa (milk) or kanji (porridge), whether you want to do tachi (sleep) or odi-odi. I have a lot to learn on that front from you.

I like the way you conduct yourself with people close to your age. Most kids actually hide themselves from you out of shyness while you go out of your way trying to be friendly and shake hands or coo papu papu (baby baby) into their ears. But that never stops you from not wanting to try to get their attention which is typically by pulling their turned-away face towards you almost telling them. "Hey you! Look at me. I am speaking to you".

I also love the way you give me a cold shoulder when I come back late from work or when I give attention to other kids your age. I have never seen you cry or throw a tantrum. But I have seen you silently watch me, trying to ignore my presence by not wanting to acknowledge when I call out for you. You are so little but know perfectly how to protest silently and make a statement, which your mummy lacks completely.

You do me so proud when I see you correlate the objects you are taught in books or otherwise with what you see in real, when you just shrug and carry on with something else when someone takes away a toy you were playing with, when you run to check yourself out in the mirror when you wear something new, when you just take things in your stride whether it is about not getting your food on time or getting too much food at a time, or not getting to go for your favorite walks or having your thatha-paati or appa or mummy leave you and go away while you sleep. And you do me proud for being the most precious thing my life.

Love,
Mummy
(Which you adamantly insist on calling me even when you know you are expected to call me amma. And I love you for that. :-))

Alive and itching to kick

2009-02-04T15:30:00.000+05:30

God! I missed this space! I really, really know I did.

I missed writing! I missed the friends I had made along the journey. And I know I have probably lost them the same way.

Today I was going through some of my old posts. Some absolutely cringe-worthy, some that made me want the earth to open up and devour me instantly, some nice and lighthearted and some loads of crap. But nonetheless, they all warmed the cockles of my heart. Every post had a story, a background, a frame of mind, a mood behind all the fonts, templates, labels and headings - a trigger that made me want to rant/write/joke about it. Some of which I could remember distinctly and most, given my "gifted" memory, I couldn't. But this discovery was something I thoroughly enjoyed as I read through.

I don't want to go overboard and make vowing speeches about how I'll post something everyday and so on. But yes, I am hoping that this is a start. A resurrection of sorts to the most neglected part of my life.

But since we techies always want quantitative data to support our allegations, I'll hope to get to at least one post a week.

Amen!

Mirage

2008-05-03T01:00:00.002+05:30

He drifts away and says I am walking away
I look at him, my eyes imploring desperately
trying to see if the glint, that warm smile,
that was so abundantly evident is there
in some minuscule fraction and I see it.
I see the happiness in his heart,
the music in his laughter,
the child-like innocence that once made me go weak
and that unmistakable glint
only that now its all for her.
At least he is truthful, he says.
Yes! Truth is to be celebrated, reveled, revered even.
and reality to be left ignored and forgotten.
And he says I am walking away.
But I am just standing on top of the cliff.
Looking into the depths of the ocean.
I see the waves hitting against the rocks.
Expectant, joyful, and finally morose and still.
Like my mind searching for an entry into the closed heart,
my eyes searching for light in infinite darkness.
And he waves from the horizon from his boat drifting,
that I am walking away.

The end

2008-04-15T23:00:00.001+05:30

The roads thin down, the horizons are a blur
connections are lost and words are a slur
vision is misty and images are a cloud
hands are chained and the heart cries aloud
tides rise, mountains melt into river of tears
darkness envelopes the soul where the end is near

"Baby's" day out

2008-03-24T17:00:00.004+05:30

Enroute to a dinner/pub party I could not refuse:

RT: Damn! I miss these unplanned outings after the baby. Been sooooo long. And at the end of it, my daughter is going to give me a cold shoulder when I get back late tonight. *Sigh* *Sigh*
Grown-up baby@work: You mean, she's going to do su-su on your shoulder? How do you know? :-O

Yaadein

2008-03-11T23:00:00.002+05:30

Na hai yeh pana
Na Khona hi hai
Tera Na hona jane
Kyun hona hi hai

Tum se hi din hota hai
Surmaiyi shaam aati
Tumse hi tumse hi

Har ghadi saans aati hai
Zindagi kehlati hai
Tumse hi tumse hi

Aankhon mein ankhen teri
Baahon mein baahein teri
Mera na mujhe mein kuch raha hua kya
Baaton mein baatein teri
Raatein saugatein teri
Kyun tera sab yeh ho gaya hua kya
Mein kahin bhi jata hoon
Tumse hi mil jata hoon
Tumse hi tumse hi

Shor mein khamoshi hai
Thodi si Behoshi hai
Tum se hi tum se hi

Aadha sa wada kabhi
Aadhe se jayada kabhi
Jee chahe kar lun is tarah wafa ka
Chode na chhute kabhi
Tode na toote kabhi
Jo dhaga tum se jud gaya wafa ka

Mein Tera sarmaya hoon
Jo bhi mein ban paya hoon
Tumse hi tumse hi
Raste mil jate hai
Manzilen mil jati hai
Tumse hi tumse hi

Kinda like this new slow one from Jab we met.

Reflections - round and in shape

2008-03-01T00:00:00.001+05:30

It was around this time last year when I first figured that I was pregnant. There were none of the typical filmy moments like puking and fainting and some vague doctor immediately predicting the 'obvious'. I was jittery from the very next day of having slipped my period. First few days after enlightenment went in a haze, a rude shock, bordering around some form of depression. It was a far cry reaction to what one sees in movies- you know, a coy wife, an elated husband, ecstatic family and all of that. Husband was not even in town when the enlightenment happened. Over a teary eyed telephone conversation, I broke the news and the response i got was "Shit!! Are you sure? Do you want to check again?"

After truckloads of counseling by mom, I breezed through most part of the 9 months. Almost to the extent of preferring to stay pregnant for the rest of my life. I loved my hair, my skin, the extra kilos, kicks in my tummy and every associated moment. But found my waterloo during labor. It was a marathon 16 hour one where all I remember was lying in an uncomfortable bed with needles all over me, with no food and writhing in terrible spasms of pain. When the ordeal was finally over and the doc announced it was a girl, I was in a moment of awe, elation, numbness, disbelief and relief - all blended together. So much so, that I did not touch her at all well into midnight (she was born in the afternoon).

And now my little girl is 4 months old (already!!) and an irresistible darling. Somehow, the agonizing hours of labor and the associated distresses preluding and post labor are almost forgotten. Its pure bliss to see her toothless grin reserved just for me when I get back from work. Yes! I am back at work and it breaks my heart every morning to leave her and go. Not that she makes it apparent then, but her reaction to my absence comes out in bizarre ways after I am back home. If I come back from work and not pick her up immediately, she throws a fit. She gets cranky if I get interrupted while playing with her. A momentary loss of eye contact is enough to set her tantrum-plug on.

I am not quite sure how to describe my state of mind. Of course, all the maternal instincts and such did not happen overnight. It took me considerable time to get to like her, to grow fond of her. There were days, rather nights when I could not stand the sight of her and have actually gone and slept in another room leaving her with husband or mum, when washing and changing nappies were the order of the day, when I was just reduced to a milk vending machine. Its all paying off now I guess. I like it when she gives me the 'special' treatment as compared to others. That her transformation from extreme crankiness to instant silence happens instantaneously when I pick her up. That I am the one she feels most secure with.

Sometimes, it feels like a promotion at work. A sudden new role and expectation that I wonder if I will live up to in the long run. I started off with a lot of apprehensions when I got pregnant and have managed to reach to this level. And all through this, I consciously set my mind to take things as they come and not think too much into future. And now I wonder if I have to do it for the rest of my life. :)

And last but definitely not the least, nothing gives me more pleasure than the fact that my pre-pregnancy clothes (which until a month ago did not go up my butt) fit me like a charm. I am back to shape finally!!! And with no exercising of any sort! Yay!! :D

Eclipse

2008-01-10T16:00:00.001+05:30

Sunshine was her middle name.
Her smile warmed you up.
Her laughter lit up the room.
Her voice echoed through the soul.
Her energy revitalized your senses.
Her eyes spoke more than her endless chatter.

And her silences speak much more....

Little arrival

2007-11-18T10:30:00.001+05:30

My little Dhwani - who's yet to sound 'melodious' as her name suggests. :-)

She is 24 days old now and a handful already.

At her birth:

At 20 days:

And I have a girl! Yay!! :-)

More baby blues

2007-09-05T19:37:00.001+05:30

Lot of things happening in life and that’s probably a good enough justification to ignore this space. Of course, one can also make out from the occasional statcounter statistics, which one visits slightly more often than one's own page, that there is almost no audience left.

It’s raining babies these days. And I seem to be enroute to doing my small contribution to the phenomena soon. It seems to have its positives which I seem to be enjoying for most part. It’s always good to be in the center of attraction though brief, when even people who haven't been exactly social come forth and make polite conversations and so on. But there are these things which I seem to enjoy the most.

1. Goodies:
Well! I wouldn't really classify myself as a foodie. Very few people really knew what I liked. But now I see myself being asked for my food cravings by every mami and aunty in the neighborhood and fed and fed some more.

2. Unsolicited help:
Now that my bump is evident enough for people to stop speculating whether it’s a paunch, I seem to get a lot of sweet gestures from all fronts. Right from watchman of neighboring apartment complex opening the gate of my independent house for me to park the car, folks at work offering to carry my laptop to the car and to my desk, not letting me cross the road alone, the chaiwallah in office frowning whenever I ask for a rare cup of tea when the craving is too strong, the neighborhood pharmacy guy checking if I wanted the customary dairy milk bar and so on.

3. Weight gain:
For the first time in life, I am at my heaviest best. And better news is that there is no one to tell me that I am underweight and that I don’t eat enough. I have gained 12 kgs already and more to go. Though I only hope that after delivery, I get back to a healthy BMI and at the same time, I am able to fit back into my old jeans. :-)

4. Baby kicks:
I am not sure about babies in general (including my own), but I seem to be enjoying the baby kicks right from the time they seemed like flutters to now when the strong jabs on my bladder make me want to drop everything and do a beeline to the loo. It’s a nice, funny feeling to see a 'living something' crawling in my tummy trying to find some room. I think I'll miss them the most after the baby is out.

The hate-list, as of now, is not too big. But it is not exactly a very smooth, happy ride through the 9.5 months.

1. Sleeplessness:
I have forgotten how it was too have a good 7 hours of uninterrupted sleep. Not able to sleep even when the fatigue and cramps are totally overbearing, is not exactly something to look forward to. But on the flip side, I seem to be getting trained for more sleepless nights in the times to come.

2. Gender guessing:
I want a girl! There. I said it! And anyone who thinks otherwise might as well keep their comments and speculations to themselves.

3. Boredom:
Carrying 12 kgs of extra weight is tough. Very tough. I feel like a road roller dragging myself all over the place. And with frequent aches and pains and overdose of gyaan on the complications and symptoms to keep tab on all through the 9 months, I just want to get over and done with it. It’s not like I am dying to see my baby or anything. I am not even sure if there is an iota of motherly instinct in me for that as yet. But it’s a long boring wait. And the worst part is that I am not sure what to expect at the end of the wait. Guess its best to just take it as it comes as I am doing right now.

That’s a longish rant in a long time. But anyway, I am in my 8th month and a confused, clueless mum-to-be. I do have A LOT of apprehensions on my own maternal skills and capabilities. More so, when people tell me that I'll do fine when I see the baby in my arms and so on. I do know that they mean well, but I am not convinced that it will be all filmy-filmy that I see a crying baby and scream hysterically "mera bachcha, mera apna khoon" and so on out of elation. I'll probably be too shocked for all that.

I do see a lot of struggle and I am not sure I can tolerate something as bad as this one!!!

The wait

2007-05-19T01:00:00.001+05:30

"I am sorry that I pinged you."
That still echoes. Through my
heart and spirit. I hear it
during the day and louder through the night.
And I wait and wait some more.
Through happy times and now.
I said some things I am forbidden to.
And probably shall never be forgiven for.
Or understood for that matter.
But I wait and wait some more.
For that tender concern which was
never for me. The voice and eyes,
that could tell me everything I need to know.
That accidental brush of the toes.
The few minutes when the time stood still.
I wait and wait some more.
Listening to the stoic silence.
Looking at refracted images through teary eyes.
While the mind battles it out with the heart.
Searching for my purpose and presence.
And I wait and wait some more.

Creepy start to resurrection!

2007-04-26T19:30:00.000+05:30

Photographed this snake [rat-snake according to S, though my drama queen instincts would have liked it to be a cobra :)] yesterday in the backyard from my bedroom window - In broad daylight, just before leaving for work. At one end, was thrilled to see a live snake out in the wilderness for first time in life and at the other, a little wary now of stepping into our gate without an escort after sunset.

Not quite a post one would have liked to share after months of "self imposed exile". But just a start of sorts. :)

Mysterious surprises and their price

2006-09-29T20:30:00.000+05:30

Surprises come in small and sometimes large packages. And sometimes, it also involves some acceptance with a pinch of salt.

Like the other day, I got a call from the dispatch department of my workplace that I had received a courier from ICICI. Well! This is not new because ICICI believes in sending every little piece of information like reward points on things I'd never buy/avail, announcements, offers which were useful just one month ago, credit card statements, complaint letters, appreciation letters and so on - all by courier.

I got to the dispatch and saw a huge package kept there. I obviously thought it was for one of the other bunch of people who were waiting for their couriers. The dispatch guy gave me quizzical looks as to why I kept waiting when the damn package was right under my nose. Then, as though reading my mind, he said "Madam, yeh aapka courier hai" (Madam. This is your courier). Now it was my turn to look quizzical.

This surely was not my package! I never got any intimation and neither had I participated in any sort of lucky prize contest in the last 5 years. I turned the package all around and saw that the sender was ICICI alright and the name and address totally matched mine. In spite of this, I was not convinced. I had to do a check to be sure I did not have a namesake in the company and particularly this workplace. And then, being the undecided Libran that I am, I had to call a couple of people and seek their view on whether or not to open the package and finally opened it.

And there it was - a neat navy blue backpack nicely wrapped in a transparent cover. Just the kind I would have liked for 1-2 day trips, full with water-bottle, pen, mobile holders and the works. I checked all the compartments and the inside of the large parcel to see if there was any letter which talked about the mysterious generosity displayed by ICICI. And there was none.

Hesitatingly, I decided to keep it and brought myself to accept that this was my package after all. Where does one come across such packages of goodies after all and that too for free? I went home happy and announced to every person I met or talked to, about my mysterious package. Later, I got to know that this was indeed a gift from ICICI (to me, of course) based on an offer which is applicable because I had spent Rs. 10000+ in that month.

Now I don’t know whether I should be thrilled with the new bag or fret on having blown 10000 bucks on stuff of ethereal nature. Life's truly like that! *sigh*

Two movies, family bonding and a headache..

2006-09-06T20:30:00.000+05:30

Two movies in a day, totally contrasting from the other, two meagre idlis at the food court, a bad tummy and a splitting headache - That pretty much summed up my Saturday.

First was the much underrated KANK*. Now, my dear friend M is a diehard SRK** fan and can spend hours in front of his bandstand residence to catch a glimpse. She even got vague acquaintances whom she met in buses and local trains to tell her when he steps out of those high gates, when he takes his children to school, when he goes to meet KJo*** and so on.. I suppose you get my drift. Its a different story that her 'Mannat' is still unanswered because whenever she tried her luck, he was in the other end of the globe. But that definitely never deterred her from trying and trying again during every Bombay trip. Anyway, I digress.

It so happened that one of the days she came home for coffee. I had not seen her more pensive in life as she was at that moment. I have seen her in such moods only in extreme circumstances like bad health or her parents getting her into a husband-hunting rigmarole or she finding a random reason to pick a fight with me. ;-)
Caring and concerned soul that I was and also sensing that I was likely to end up in a situation here, I decided to take the risk and asked what it was that was bothering her.

After some prodding:
M: I know the reviews of KANK aint good at all. I also know the rest would not want to see it. But I still want to watch it. Will you watch it with me?
RT: (faintly relieved that all's well with the world) Of course! We will watch it one of these days.

Let me also add here that even though not on the same scale and intensity, I like SRK too and it wasn't very difficult to get me convinced here. And so elaborate plans were made a week after to catch up with the Saturday morning 10:30 show for which the lady gave up her Saturday morning beauty sleep to stand in the current booking queue. At 10:15, she smses that I shouldn't leave just yet because she might not get the tickets after all. And here I was wrapping up all my saturday housewifely chores like running after the maid to clean up at double her usual speed, skip mopping and so forth. Far cry from the glamor added by Rani Mukherji to the tasks I was doing about which I will discuss later. Anyway, after what seemed like 5 minutes, I got another sms to leave immediately because she managed to get tickets. I quickly ran out and made it to the hall (about 7-8 kms away) in a matter of 15 minutes (underground parking time etc included). Here, I was extremely and totally pleased with myself for making a near-perfect time on Bangalore roads. And instead of applauding at my near-impossible achievement, M was full of fumes at me for making her miss 5 precious minutes of the movie. Thankless world this is, I tell ya!

Anyway, the movie was glossy and fixated at the Brooklyn bridge as it always is in all KJo movies. The characters were unreal and unconvincing. The basic underlying theme of the movie, that I chose to see, was that the punishment for an extra-marital affair is a three year separation. Not a bad deal, is it? :-)

SRK, at the risk of inviting the wrath of M, was so cantankerous and irritating that I wonder how Preity Zinta wanted to sleep with him, have his kid and in fact continue living with him. Which is why, I think, when he broke out the adultery word, she jumped at the oppurtunity to get rid of him. The housewife-at-heart Rani Mukherji led most part of her married life vacuum-cleaning her up-market apartment in cleavage-showing, halter-necked, cocktail dresses. And after meeting SRK, her wardrobe metamorphosed into bikini tops for sari blouses with just one hook holding it all together. For most part of the movie, I was hoping it doesn't snap suddenly considering how taut it looked. And I couldn't understand what one saw in the other to fall in love. Even that was in its hilarity when they both became friends basically to figure out a way to save their marriages and how!. By giving a massage and wearing rather intimidating lingerie to please their spouses. I would have found the transposed spouses to make a more steamy couple, who not only looked better and danced better, but were also fun and balanced. Arjun Rampal was wasted and unnecessary. Amitabh Bachchan was painful and his chandigarh jokes, dude-ing with his son and frolicking with random white skinned women one-fourths his age were downright pathetic. The only bright aspect to the movie was the John Abraham cameo in the Where's-the-party-tonight song. :-)

But I must say that I watched the movie to completion without dozing off even once in the 3.5 hour marathon. I have no qualms with extra-marital affairs shown in Indian movies as such. But I fail to understand why there is always a need for an action-reaction phenomena for falling in love outside of marriage. SRK blew his career in football because of an accident and hence remained irritable all his life and consequently all the negativity led him to look for love outside of marriage. In Silsila, Amitabh and Rekha were lovers before they married other people and therefore, their post marriage affair was justified. In Astitva, Tabu's husband lived most part of his life after marriage away from wife to expand his business and so she slept with Mohnish Behl. Arth is probably the only movie that I have seen where it is so realistically shown that affairs need not be triggered by external formidable/favorable events. Affairs just happen.

The other movie I saw was a tamil movie - a 'Kamal-movie' at that. The parents, the brother, his fiancé, the fiancé’s parents were all keen on watching a new Tamil movie called Vetaiyadu Vilayadu (Don’t ask me what that means!). And so the husband and I were sucked into the whole family thing. On reaching the movie hall, one noticed that it was not just the immediate family but the extended kinfolk and some more friends were also part of the deal. It was nice in a way to see one whole row in the hall occupied by people we knew. The movie was primarily a cop-catching-an-unknown-killer story and, for the most part, was rather fast-paced and devoid of unnecessary song sequences etc. But what could have ended by intermission went on for another 1.5 hours. The background score was extremely shrill and irritating and kept me awake even though I wanted to sleep to get rid of a nagging headache which crept in through the day.

Been one helluva day and realized that two movies in a day - one full of gloss and another full of gore can be quite taxing for the mind and physique. And if you end up in such a situation, then make sure you carry an Aspirin and have enough maggie stocked up at home. :-)

* KANK - Kabhi Alvida Na Kehna
** SRK - Shah Rukh Khan
*** KJo - Karan Johar

When there is nothing worthwhile to say..

2006-08-12T21:30:00.000+05:30

When you have had a tough month at work and too tired and bored to say anything insightful (ahem!), when there is nothing to blog about and no tags doing the rounds, post pictures. :-)

This is actually the picture of the living room of our apartment. It is spacious and roomy with lot of greenery around as one can see. Some good things about the city which I must not miss mentioning. :-)

The husband has splurged big time investing in expensive cameras and other paraphernalia to satisfy his birding and wildlife pursuits and I seem to have imbibed some skills at photography as well. Some excerpts of the same. These were just some weed-like plants growing all over the place and looked quite ugly in the surroundings. But I'd reckon, not here when clicked in macro mode.

Since this post is as worthless as it can get, I must mention that we got a new aquarium at home. And that is quite the high point in life at the moment. I am not quite the pet-loving kinds. Before one starts thinking about my anti-maneka-gandhi tendencies, I must make this clear that I do like pets and like play with them as long as the time spent is temporary and at someone else's place. I am still not particularly sure if I can get into such high maintenance activities - pets and babies alike. I think they demand too much of your attention and energy. But maybe this is just a start. And the sad part is out of the 5 pairs of fishes, two pairs are already dead. :(

I believe this is a new tank and fishes need to get acclimatized to the new surroundings and only the fittest survive. But its rather sad when one sees a couple of them floating on the top of the tank in the morning. Its fun to watch their antics though - that as long as you are away, they generally hang around swimming wistfully and aimlessly. But the moment you are near the tank, there is a flurry of activity with some aggressive swimming and diving and playing around, almost like a child's face brightening up at the sight of the mother in the circle of vision. Though all such acrobatics is to show happiness at the probable prospect of food in this case, its fun all the same. :-)

And as some folks have pointed out, I seem to be neglecting this space a bit too much. Hoping to do something about it soon.

*Waiting wistfully for some insight*

Will someone tell me...

2006-07-17T22:00:00.000+05:30

I never had a great opinion of Chennai. I know I am inviting wrath and trouble while I say this but it is something I have evolved to accept. It has, most definitely, evolved from the time when I was this smug, clueless, north-bred 6 year old to whom anything south indian was a matter of disdain. It was rather uncool to be referred as a Madrasi at that point in time.

Of course, I grew out of the false airs rather soon. I have a huge cousin clan of about 30 of them of varied age groups and I did have a bunch of cousins of the nearest age group with whom I bonded rather well. They jeered at my accented and adulterated tamil, looked at me like I was from Pluto or something when I wore chappals at home or drank tea off china cups, but at the same time did the protective-brother-sister acts making me feel wanted. I did like coming here on vacations, braving through the agninakshatram and crowding with colorful plastic buckets around Metro water lorries which made rounds of the locality just once everyday, visiting the athais and perimas who never ceased to amaze me with their powerful vocal chords emanating carnatic tunes so effortlessly. Most of them are old enough to have great-grandchildren and they still can beat many a good singer of today. And akkas and annas and of course the December Music Festival which I grew to appreciate the most about the city.

Then the parents moved to Chennai for a while. And thats when I started to see the city with an objective mindset albeit the crass lingo, the sweltering mercury and the general "tamilness" which I was never accustomed to. :-)
And these were certain things I have relentlessly tried in vain to understand about the city.

Why do autorikshaw-walas take it upon themselves to get all abusive if we do not want to pay what they want us to?
Why do mosquitoes not go aestivating in this sweltering heat like they do in Delhi in the months of May and June? And why do goodknight and morteins have absolutely no effect on them?
And why does a small/large shower not seem to have any effect on the temperature? Doesn't it defy the basic science we learnt in school about water having cooling properties etc?
Why do womenfolk (and menfolk for that matter) haggle over an extra rupee that a vegetable vendor asks for a kilo of Kattirikai, crib on high cost of living for them to just be able to survive on vetta-kuzhambu and extra diluted more-saadam, but end up in Kerala Jewellers and RMKV splurging tens of thousands on pattu-podavais and thangam-necklace without once questioning the shopkeeper on his price scheme?
Why do they dress in expensive finery of thick zari sarees and kaasu-maalais but have humble or should I say discriminatory tendencies towards their heavily-cracked yellow feet which never gets to wear anything beyond a Bata Hawaai Chappal.
Why do they insist on donating money on abhishekams, archanais and temple building (like the city needs any more) while the same can be used to feed or educate a child or any deprived or build a hospital?
Why do the students only talk about engineering and medicine and getting "centums" in mathematics and science? And look down upon hindi as a derogatory form of education.
Why do they have temples in the middle of the roads ? Aren't there enough in the nooks and corners?
Why do the temple priests take it as their moral responsibility to educate why a married woman must wear flowers or bangles all the time? And also make it a point to say it aloud in front of rather conservative folks who in turn imagine goddess of the temple speaking through the man's vocal chords. In other words, why don't they mind their own f***ing business?
So I am an Iyer with a vaango-pongo accent? So, sue me! But pray tell, what is so contempt-inducing about it? I do not see you as a non-Iyer, non-bram or whatever, so what makes me hateful?

Answers anyone? Enlightenment awaits..:)

You're tagged, weirdo..!

2006-07-07T19:30:00.000+05:30

Almost seems like I am back in these spaces after a lifetime. Things had gotten so busy that I hardly had any breather. Not even to read other blogs. Needless to say, I have a huge backlog to clear. Though things haven't changed too drastically as yet with respect to the busy-ness quotient, I will do my tiny bit of squawk in these spaces so that people (the regulars and irregulars who have come expectantly for a new post) have something new to see rather than the Omen I had put them through all these days..:-)
And what better way to break the ice by following a tag though that’s not quite the favorite thing to do.

So, the tag story goes this way. I have to be listing 5 weird things about myself and pass it to five others. It took me a while actually to congregate and classify some of the habits and actions as weird. Well, what does one do if everything about her is weird?..:-)

But I digress. Anyway, here goes:

- I can never remember telephone numbers, ATM Pins, birthdays, faces of the names, names of the faces et al. It’s more like I remember each of these individually. But when I go about putting them together to get a valid entity, I am lost. I have been butt of the jokes with friends and dear others on my memory leaks and lapses and life’s not gotten any better on this front. Also, I can mentally switch off if I do not want to be part of a conversation without the other person knowing. I am sometimes shocked at how effortlessly the mind goes off for a walk while the other person actually thinks I am listening to him/her. So I can definitely say for myself that I am never in boring company. :-)

- I am terrified of anything that is creepy-crawly. Of course, there are human varieties in this category. But I tend to stay away from the butterfly, moth, lizard, cockroach, bee varieties which leave their natural habitats and make an entry into the confines of my household and peace of mind subsequently. And the husband, being a naturalist, makes matters worse when he actually thinks its cool to do a course on Entomology from BNHS. Eww! But on the flipside, its good to have him around when the peace of mind needs restoration. He is pretty good at driving away the said intruders without actually murdering them (No! I am not so cruel to see them dead. I'd much like them back in their familiar territories) and I think its a super brave thing to do. :-)

- I sleep on my tummy. I have tried drifting to sleep in many postures in life. But the only posture that ensures instant slumber is the tummy one. While on sleep, I rarely dream and when I do, I never remember the events however vivid they might be. I can sometimes, vaguely recollect who I might have dreamt about and that’s about it. Rest is a dream. :-)

- I hate rains. Absolutely detest them and wish they go away and never ever come back. I am slightly tolerant to the first rain of the season wherever I am. But every subsequent occurrence is enough to get me into a swingy, tantrummy mood. Whoever associates romance to rains is someone I am awed by. I totally hate being drenched, splashed with muck and driving with the wipers on. So much that I hate my car getting wet too!

- I was born, and will die, a bournvita/milo person. I need my glass of hot chocolate milk every morning. In the absence of which I begin to develop withdrawal symptoms. I think I do know what it takes for the Rahul Mahajans and others of his tribe.

So there..!

Now that some of my weirdness is out for the folks to frown/dig upon, I'll leave the tag open to anyone in my bloglist. :-)

Adios...

The omen

2006-05-17T21:30:00.000+05:30

They decide to meet once a month. Good things always come rare, he had said.

First month, they meet and both are shy and nervous. Second month, she goes off on an overseas trip. Third month, they do meet and this time its magic with neither wanting the moments to end. Fourth month, he gets stuck at work. Fifth month, he goes on a vacation. Sixth month, she falls sick. Seventh month, they plan their date to perfection until a curfew hits the city. Eighth month, they are finally together again.
"We had decided on meeting every month. Perhaps, this is a sign" she sighs as he stretches on her couch.
"Umm! We are probably jinxed. But we are together now" he smiles, holding her close.
And they forget their jinxes and omens and spend the togetherness relishing every instant. After all, good things came rare.

"Maybe we must not plan so well in advance next time" she smiles at her self-proclamation, as he leaves to pick his wife from her workplace. At the corner of the road, she sees her husband's silhouette parking the car in the garage.

Revelations and relevations

2006-05-02T18:30:00.000+05:30

I normally ignore, with a chuckle, the search lines that draws people to my rather errr insipid blog which is otherwise visited by a handful of rather kind folks - Until some of them made me realize that my blog is such a reservoir of information.

1. "What Aishwarya Rai's early family relationships were like."
- Need I say more? One not only visits once, gains enlightenment and runs away as one should, but loves the site so much, that he/she comes back some more times with the same search words. I hope the enlightened being found all that he/she is looking for in Ms. Rai, her relationships with her family, her great-uncles, her dog, the dog's litter sired through various she-dogs [I don't quite like to call it a bitch because I don't quite like the word and prefer to use it on some talented womenfolk when they deserved to be called that. Let me also add that I am very choosy about using the word on them too. So one has to be really gifted :-)], her watchman, her snooping neighbor and his runny-nosed boy, her astrologer [who gave her 'scope for horrors' with AB junior], her hair cut, her broken nail of the index finger, her mountain biking escapade [Gah! I had a worse debacle but I guess, I must thank Ms. Rai here for making these folks read about it and feel sorry for me in a silent way] and so on...

2. "Tamilian guys"
- Oh! Tamilian guys! They come in all sizes and shapes - the thair-saadam-eating, the asimov-swearing, the amma's-boy-not-lifting-a-finger-to-clean/help, the sun-tv-watching, the vaiko-bashing, the iit-aspiring-but-settled-for-paid-seats-in-unknown-engineering-colleges, the USA-aspiring, the thrice-a-week-temple-visiting, the rajanikanth-ilayaraja-idolizing, the AR-rehman-hating, the AR-rehman-loving, the hindi-hating, the hawaai-chappal-checked-lungi-wearing, bushy-moustache-sporting, the amma's-rasam-yearning, the driving-up-the-wall-with-slothful-disorderliness. But I wonder which types did one come looking for. :-)

3. "ATM's in Daman"
- Oh! I really feel sorry for the chappie who came looking for this. I sincerely hope he found one.

4. "Mosquitoes in Nicobar"
- Well! mosquitoes are these god-sent, quintessential and clairvoyant beings which make their presence felt the moment you think about them. You can be at work, on the road, in your garden, in the loo, in the corridors, in the elevator, in a village, in a town, in a hospital, watching cricket, sleeping, driving, blogging, making out, plotting a murder, writing an epic and these irritating buzzing menace are all around you until you bring out the all-outs and odomos'. But why-o-why is one only interested in the mosquitoes in Nicobar? I am the best bet for this piece of information because I have seen them in the Nicobar part of the world too. And trust me, they aren't any different from the suckers you encounter everyday. :-)

Enough said about the mystic ways of people that attract them to my blog. But I am glad for my regular readers to have noticed more than that (wonder what??) to be visiting and leaving kind comments in my blog. And also for the ones who visit as silently as they leave and the ones who have included me in their blogrolls/lines. The blog, even after 50 posts, will continue to be nonsensical and exaggerated/underrated (as the situation demands) and hopefully free of the troll-types as it has been thus far...:-)

Hairy conversations

2006-04-27T16:30:00.000+05:30

At 6
Mum: Its ok dear, the hair will grow back in a month.

She: (Bawling) But I dont want to cut my hair. Pooja's hair is so long. I want it like that.

Mum: (At what she does best, negotiations. Wonder why she isn't with international relations!) Its getting unmanagable, sweetheart. Lets cut it this one time and then we'll let it grow next time, ok? Now be a good girl when you go to the hairdresser's with Aunt G.

She: (Bawling even louder)

At 14
She: Oww!! Ma! That hurts!

Mum: (trying to cope with the disentangled blob of hair while getting her ready to school) Get a hair cut, dear. Just a trim of an inch.

She: No Ma! Everyone in school sports long hair. Besides, its in vogue. And ma, why dont you just let my hair loose today with small clips holding them back from the sides (gestures) like this. Sonia says it looks good and the other day.....

Mum: (In resigned silence, thinking of a marathon session of hair pulling the next day morning) *sigh*.

At 20:
She: (Her weekly calls from the hostel) Guess what! I got a haircut.

Mum: Oh my god! What did you get done?

She: Oh! I was quite bored of my appearance and so wanted a new look. Its called a razor cut. All the hostel girls totally love it and are getting it done too. You know, the hairdresser ran razor on the front side of my hair so that the hair looks uneven and.......

Mum: (Not quite liking the sound of Razor cut, but not wanting to sound too ignorant at the same time) I hope its not too short. What will people say?

She: Its not, Ma!!

At 25:
Mum: (Hugging her at the airport) Good lord! Why did you do this to yourself? Your hair is a mess. Doesn't all that hair falling on your face irritate you? Thatha-Paati* are not going to be pleased with that.

She: Ma! Its the most haute cut right now. And all my friends think it looks cool and hip.

Mum: (Scorning with arched wrinkles forming on her forehead) You must stop experimenting with your hair for a while now. We have to get you married soon. What would the prospective in-laws think when they come to see you?

She: Ma! *$&#$!# *

At 27:

Mum: (In her firmest voice possible - she was probably rehearsing it in front of the mirror before the confrontation) Now that your wedding is around the corner, you must stop your visits to the hairdressers until your wedding is over.

She: But why ma?? Wedding is good 8 months away. My hair would be crawling on the floor by then, and I would have tripped on them 7 times already. Moreover, its not like the in-laws don't know. I see them more often than I see you.

Mum: (Bordering on hysteria) Not a chance. The answer is no cut. How'll your head sustain all those flowers during your wedding? What will the in-law's family think if they saw the bride with a pony tail at the wedding? Get married and then do whatever you like. You can go bald for all I care.

At 30 and with a baby making an entry soon:
Mum: What is it this time?

She: (Admiring her hair in front of the mirror) Umm.. Its kinda short.

Mum: Ohmygawd! (nearly fainting - imagining her like a friend of hers with a boyish crop) Dont tell me its like Tina's.

She: No ma. Its until my shoulders. And moreover you had given me the rights to go bald, remember?

Mum: (conveniently ignoring the last bit) Are you able to, at least, tie a pony tail?

She: Umm.. well, I can, but it holds only 10% of my hair. And looks more like a rabbit tail or errr pig tail.. Umm cant decide which!

Mum: *sigh* At least, if you are able to tie it up during festivals or when in-laws come visiting, its alright. You know you shouldn't do namaskaram** to them with untied hair. They are so religious and....

She: Ya! I know, Mom! Chill.

Oh and in case you were wondering what this was about, its just some mundane musings in an evolving tam-bram household, again of random existence. Just merging with the season where everyone is on a clarifying spree, much like my friend, Ms.Soup :-)

* Grandparents

** Form of salutation one does to God or the elderly in the family when you bend down to touch their feet.

Trips and their side effects

2006-04-18T22:30:00.000+05:30

Had given myself a break from the blog world as well as the real one. Dandeli trip was great. Did a whole bunch of things like white water rafting, kayaking, trekking, mountain biking yada yada. But like Aesop's fables, it had a moral in the end. FITNESS pays. I was promptly down with a bad back on the last day of the trip while biking. Something snapped. And it felt like a thousand ants taken control of my nerves and muscles, holding them back tightly, teasing and threatening severe shock whenever i tried to bend or sit or change my posture. Physiotherapy was promptly prescribed and is likely to continue for a long time to come. But the place was a haven of 'winged' birds. The best thing was that one could sit in the verandah at daybreak and identify nearly 50 different species of birds right from Hornbills to thrushes and sunbirds. Also learnt a thing or two about photography from the husband and figured I may have a finer way with it. More on that later. :)

Books gave me whole lot of company over my unwell days. (Oh well! I was completely thrown off gear for more than a week after the trip) And two books which stood out were Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini and Mistress of Spices by Chitra Bannerji Divakaruni. With no intention of reviewing them, I love the simplicity with which both these authors write. I bought Queen of Dreams by Divakaruni last year but never got around to reading it until recently and I instantly fell in love with her flowery, mystic way of writing. Wonder why I was putting away the book for so long. Was not disappointed by Mistress of Spices either. And I am looking forward for the next trip to Landmark to buy the others too. I believe a motion picture is being made of the book and Aishwarya Rai (!!!) is playing the role of Tilo. I would have imagined a Konkona Sensharma or a Nandita Das befitting the role, but Aishwarya Rai???

Among other things, has it ever happened that you go to withdraw money from an ATM center and your mind drew a blank? It happened to me yesterday, I fed in my ATM card and hands were circling around the display on the ATM machine and I just could not remember my PIN. Fed in 3 wrong passwords and got my ATM card promptly locked. Damn. Now I need to call the bank and get it reset again. And whats more, I remembered the PIN in my sleep at night. Looks like Alzheimers is setting in rather early in life.

Meanwhile some excerpts from my trip. And some not-so-anonymous glimpses too.

This is a spectacular sunset viewed from a sunset trek of about an hour into the jungle. Thats Kali river in the background.

This was our attempt at Kayaking. Was quite tough keeping afloat against the tide of the river. But we managed it for 2 hours without doing a 180 degree flip. :-)

This is a migratory bird from Africa called Black Stork which was identified in southern India for the first time.

A fig tree. Typical habitat for the Hornbills. Unfortunately none on this tree.

And these are just a bunch of flowers from the window of our apartment. Makes for a nice picture post card.

Travails et al....

2006-03-23T17:30:00.000+05:30

The alarm rang at 4AM on the various mobiles/clocks in varied noise levels. All the girls groped in the dark, feeling around for the nearest alarm. But nobody got up. It was more like this. A wakes dreamily, and sees that the rest haven't stirred as yet. So she decides to have a shut-eye and wake when the someone else stirs. Then B wakes dreamily and looks around and repeats the same cycle. And finally everyone checks everyone else and goes back to sleep. And Borivali-local-530-Daman was all dissolved in the need for the precious early morning sleep. At about 630, one of the phones rang loud and shrill and all of us were resurrected from our unconsciousness. And we realised!

The call was from the boyfriend who decided to spring us all a surprise by turning up in Borivali at 6. He was not very pleased by the fact that we lifted the phone at home and more so in the hoarse, early-morning voice. This is the fastest ever that I have ever gotten ready. And the 6 of us reached Borivali at 9. The boyfriend cribbed about how he spent all the time reading 4 newspapers back-to-back over 2 vada paos and 4 cutting chai. Well! No soul really would like to witness the hunter-becoming-the-hunted situation, would he/she?

We got into this overpacked passenger-type train which was worse than a Virar local at the rush hour. We were all in different compartments trying to hang on to the train. We finally got ourselves pushed out of the train in Vapi at about noon. We had to take a cab to Daman which was about half-hour distance from Vapi. Very early during our trip, we figured that things had to be bargained big time in that part of the world. Right from Taxi fares to hotel rooms. On our way after a long bargain session with the cabbie, we saw a lot of autorikshaws packed with people. By packed I dont mean 4-5 but more like 8-10 people excluding the driver. All of us were quite bemused at how people travelled like that and laughed it off.

So we got to this hotel which was just a couple of minutes from a beach. Some other veteran friends (who leaked out info on the inebriation) had told us that there was one beach which was the best in the town. So after checking in at this particular hotel and washing up, we set out to see what all one could do in this sleepy little town and also check out that beach. There were several cabbies outside of the hotel who endorsed the places to visit around rather convincingly and we paid him a bomb to take us around - Couple of beaches, an old fort, some church/temple rigmarole etc etc. Expecting that this would take up at least whole of second half of the day, we set off. But to our dismay, the temple was a small roadside one and the fort was too dilapidated for pictures even. The whole tour finished in like 1.5 hours and the cabbie dropped us at a beach which looked like Juhu Beach with local families out for a picnic. And there were nothing but rocks and dirty ones too. This was definitely what we expected of the best beach in town. By now, we got royally screwed, taken for a ride, in the middle of nowhere and had no clue how to get back to the hotel. After spending almost an hour looking for an alternative mode of transport, we finally resorted to one stray autorikshaw who agreed to drop us at the hotel for an obnoxious unprecedented fare. And after a while, we saw ourselves in that auto travelling in renounced silence like the locals, at whom we had jeered few hours ago - 6 girls (3 on the seat, 3 on each lap) and the boyfriend next to the driver.

Dinner at the hotel was good. And so was the booze and so obscenely cheap at that. That was the first time I got high. Not exactly a great experience. I guess its good if you are sober or if you are completely high - oblivious to the world. The transitional high-ness is kinda stressful. You know you have difficulty walking straight and finding ground but you also know you need to have a grip on yourself. We went for a walk by the neighborhood beach soon after. Five girls walked and one floated. Next thing I remember is crashing in the bed only to wake next morning hangover-less.

We spent all of the morning and afternoon frolicking, swimming in the neighborhood beach and getting a tan that I did not really want. But what the heck. And thats when we realised that this was easily the best beach. Typically, a similar situation like the little boy who was symbolically looking for the treasure in The Alchemist. And the nirvana-like moment after all that the rip-offs and cheats made the trip quite memorable.

So anyway Dandeli, here I come....

Travails and adventures

2006-03-17T23:30:00.000+05:30

Yay! Its final. I am going white water rafting to Dandeli next weekend. I have been having short trips every now and then after coming to Bangalore. But I guess, I need this to break away the lethargy that starts to grow over you in this city like an epidemic.

Life in Bombay was a lot different. Things were always on the move irrespective of any time of the day or week or year. Work kept one terribly busy and weekends were busier and usually booked for something or other for the subsequent 3 weekends. Even catching a movie used to be difficult sometimes. Of course one could squeeze time for it too most of the times. Just 6-7 hours of sleep, and one was fresh and ready to take on the fires and late hours at work and subsequent maggie-dinners and K soaps (Deadly combo that!). Here, 8 hours of work is a gruelling exercise trying to figure out whether the participants of the conference call are actually speaking english or Japanese. And other times are spent in trying to assimilate what I have understood and act upon them. And on other days, the same 8 hours are gruelling with no clue about how to appear busy in front of the damn machine. Time after work is immense now. I had never seen how the world outside looked at 6PM on a week day in Bombay. In fact, 11PM was a more familiar time to admire the skyline of the city. Here, I am already done with stage II of sleep by 11PM. 9+ hours of sleep and I am still groggy most of the days. Gah!

Trips were a lot of fun. And adventure from the word go. They were never planned and ended up being the backpack varieties. Even the honeymoon, which came much later, turned out to be just that. Its different that the mother of adventures - the tsunami happened just then. Anyway, things were adventurous in a less literal sense back then. There was no planning, no booking, just a couple of thousands in the pockets. And a weekend trip would be done. On a TGIF-like afternoon, the place would be decided amongst a couple of mail exchanges with friends and evening, we'd be at Dadar station to board the bus to Khandala or train to Nerul/Matheran, a ferry to Alibaug and so on. One such trip of ours was decided to be Mahableshwar.

This was more of a 'semi planned' trip. By semi planned, I mean, we had booked our bus tickets in one of these humongous, hep-looking Volvo buses well in advance. What we'd have done after alighting at Panchgani/Mahableshwar was still anybody's guess. But at least it was a start. But fate decided to screw our humble start to an organized life rather royally. We were all ready to board the bus outside Andheri Shoppers Stop at 9PM when one of us got a call from the travels guy that there was some Maharashtra wide bus strike and buses were cancelled until further notice and we could collect the refund for our tickets.

A look of gloom and unimaginable silence prevailed through for several moments in the apartment. Thankfully none of us 6 noisy girls were really in the verge of tears. A boyfriend of one of the gang pacified us with the "hota hai"-"its ok"-type sympathetic noises. He was a late entrant into the whole plan and hence not part of the trip. And so he had booked himself a trip to Kolhapur the next morning. Then suddenly one of us hit with an idea of going to Daman the next morning. Now, our knowledge of Daman was as much that of a school going kid. One of the union territories of India, wich is associated with one more place called Diu and blah. Of course we also knew a couple of things related to inebriation that a 10-11 year old might not know. Hence the gloom and silence was forgotten and the decibel levels in the apartment soared to its maximum and stayed that way until 2AM when the boyfriend, after refusing our invite to Daman, left for his abode and the others decided to call it a day in order to wake early to take the first local to Borivali where outbound trains to Gujarat took off at 5-530AM.

Ok. I guess, this is getting a bit too long and I am past my sleep time. Will continue later....

Sounds of music

2006-03-06T12:00:00.000+05:30

"Wow! That doesn't sound like violin, does it?" asks an observant husband while wife, on wheels, is waiting for the busy signal to turn green.

"Nope. Thats morsing. Its a percussion instrument you play with your mouth." (doing some gestures so that he figures out)

"Ok. I got it. (A momentary pause) But I think I am getting better."

"Better at what?"

"I am proud of you to be identifying raagas and I am proud of myself to be identifying instruments."

"Hmm, instruments like?"

"Like violin and non-violin?"

Disappearing acts

2006-02-28T15:30:00.000+05:30

"Very very sorry darling! How can I make up?" said he for the nth time when she confronted him and demanded reason for his vanishing act. He went into these bouts of hiatus when he would just forget her existence for weeks and months sometimes. There would be no news from him, all calls ignored, all smses unanswered. He'd later surface with things like he had company, 14 hour work schedules, was not well and so on. And she'd sulk at the fact that he did not even consider it necessary to let her know when he's busy. But with every little conversation, the feeling of remorse would gradually diminish and she'd be back to her old happy self.

They weren't really seeing each other technically. They led separate lives and gave each other ample space. But they had their moments of intimacy whenever they caught up. They had instant chemistry which both had little control on, which kept them going. That's what had drawn them to each other always from the time they first met at a common friend's wedding. Neither looked for emotional support or talked about their problems or woes to the other. They never even talked about how their day went or what their relationship was turning out to be. The time spent with each other was too little to be discussing such inconsequentialities of life.

She'd often lie awake in her bed thinking about him. He was anything but perfect. He had it his way most of the times. She'd be the one trying to initiate contacts breaking his temporary reverie and reminding him of her existence, she'd be the one trying to fix dates to meet. She’d be the one ranting and raving while he’d patiently listen to it all and finally end it with a sorry, like this one. But their dates were magical. His eyes, his smile, his touch elevated her senses, incited her mind and touched her heart and soul. He knew how to win her without trying too hard. He thought she was his confidante and someone he could get closest ever with. At times, she thought she knew him well. And other times, she thought she didn't know him at all or what he expected or thought of her.

But she liked it this way and so did he. They like their present and more so because neither is worried of a future. Though she only wishes he doesn't go disappearing every time!

And among other things, I just realized I completed a year of blogging. Wow, that feels really old..:)

Tagged

2006-02-06T17:37:00.000+05:30

Well, this tag can be potentially an exciting exercise for the nubile, young things. Maybe not for the married species in the world. But anyways here goes because my very dear friend Meeta tagged me into it.

Rules of the game:
1. The tagged victim has to come up with 8 different points of their perfect lover.
2. You have to mention the sex of the target.
3. Tag 8 victims to join this game and leave a comment on their comments saying they've been tagged.
4. If tagged the 2nd time, there's no need to post again.

So here goes:

...HE must have the intensity of Rahul Bose in Mr. and Mrs Iyer and spunk and sensitivity of SRK in Swades. :-)

...HE must love music, specially my kind - Indian classical and hindi film movies of the 60's and definitely not the kinds who seeks such in the mindless and costume-less remixes.

...HE must be a foodie. And having culinary inclinations is a huge, huge turn-on. And surprising me with some concoctions once in a while would fetch him extra brownie points. Having said that, he must also like to try out new places and cuisines.

...HE must like my friends and gel wonderfully with them. And also let me have girlie evenings with them once in a while. While he can go his way spending (inebriated or otherwise) evenings with his friends.

...HE must appreciate my need for my personal domain. And must know what cheers me the most when I am in the lowest moods. He must have that extra ounce of patience and must be the kinds who sits back and enjoys my tantrums, mood swings as well as my rants and goofups of the day. :-)

...HE must be slightly romantic. Leaving enquiring/endearing notes/smses/messages when I least expect it, will melt away my worst moods and resentments. Having company, being busy, watching cricket are alright but not convincing enough not to leave a note once in a while.

...HE must love reading and not try to raid the books I am reading. He must also like watching movies and plays. Must be ready to watch any lousy movie I'd like to see and also render readily a nice shoulder to lean on when I doze off in the movie hall.

...HE must have his own opinion about things and tell me when he disapproves of anything I do. I do not want it to be my way just because thats the most comfortable setup to end a troubled situation.

I will violate Rule 3 and leave it open for anyone who reads my blog and wants to do the exercise. Mainly because I dont think I know of 8 who havent been tagged already. :-)

Neighbor's envy and Lalitaji

2006-01-17T14:00:00.000+05:30

“Bhala, iski sari meri sari se safed kaise?” [Loosely translated as, how come her sari is whiter than mine?] cooed the neighborhood ladies with malicious envy written all over their faces at Lalitaji when she stepped out into a vegetable market with her son Ravi bete in a crisp, starched white sari with a surf-blue border. After a bit of selfless confession from Lalitaji, a look of triumph light up their faces when they find out the secret of her blemish-less whiteness.

This is post is not quite about HLL's much famed surf ad of the 80's. Not even about the sense of power to housewives which the ad seems to have signified in those days. Not even how Lalitaji became and still is a household name. This rant is about the city that I have come to adopt in the recent times - Bangalore or Bengaluru. Gah! Whatever!

The drivers in this city seem to have this sense of neighbors-envy-owner's-pride deeply instilled in their heart of hearts. So much so, that they cannot bear a scratch-free vehicle on the road. The thought process is pretty much similar to the housewives with malicious envy mentioned above.
“Bhala, iski gaadi mein meri gaadi se kam scratches kaise?” [How come his vehicle has lesser scratches than mine?]
That’s the virtuous mantra most drivers seem to take tad too seriously in this city. Only difference being that the drivers also come fully packed and loaded with malicious intents. It’s after all a slander for anyone to be driving a blemish-less vehicle. They have to be etched with some artsy signature scratches. Oh! A line near the rear door would give Cashmere color of the car a remarkable facelift, wouldn’t it? Hmm, on second thoughts, for symmetry and completeness sakes, the other side too, could be blessed with one. And the rear bumper! Oh, that needs to be nuzzled and pampered every now and then. And what can be a more ecstatic, orgy-like moment than feeling the curvaceous rear view mirror while overtaking. After all, Sheesha akhir toot jata hai. [Mirrors break sometime or other].

Needless to say, my car has been 'beautified' immensely in the last 1.5 months of my stay here. And I am wondering wistfully how I can ward off the evil eye from her and also put an end to the priceless-work-of-art on her body.

I sincerely feel there must be some kind of empowerment that we should've had as a class of Homo sapiens. Whenever a vehicle decides to act ‘fresh’ with your car, one special gaze at the vehicle must either puncture the tires of the said car or jam the power windows or spoil the A/C or automatically get the scars which were meant to be induced on your car. Or better still; create a perception of psychological guilt in the driver so much that he gives up driving a car in this lifetime and takes to public transport thereby reducing the traffic on the roads too.

If only, wishes were scratch-less cars...! *sigh sigh*

Good and bad moments

2006-01-03T16:50:00.000+05:30

Been an okish start to the New Year but a rather morose end to 2005.

The IISc incident left a lot of people outraged and worried about terrorism, against innocent lives being taken away and blah. But to me it was more than that. Not because I lived in the same city as the incident, not even that I lived anywhere close to the said venue, but because the concerned victim was someone I knew so well, who walked in the same corridors and taught in the same classrooms I went to, was a mentor to few of my closest friends and me too in retrospect. Here's a silent prayer to Prof Puri. It’s indeed a great shock to all of us that you had to go away so unfairly. I hope your family and friends are able cope up with your absence. Amen!

New year and the eve was different this year. I went to this remote village in Tirunelveli called Ambasamudram (fondly called Ambas by the inhabitants). The husband is away for a training program somewhere about and I, having never seen Tamil Nadu beyond Chennai, decided to be with him for a few days. And the prospect of staying in a remote village sounded exciting as well as skeptical. Not being used to more than a handful people talking in Tamil at a time around me, I used to find Chennai very 'claustrophobic'. And 2.5 days in a village was scarier thought. But this turned out to be a nice, little township which was just on the base of a hill. It was fairly cosmopolitan and food was simply splendid. Simple, bland and delicious, just the way I like. And the village was extremely picturesque with lovely shades of cleansed green in the blades of grass just like they would look after a rain shower, tall palm trees in the backdrop, clear and clean water of the Tamarabarani River flowing through the region and lovely waterfalls. Did anyone say Tamil Nadu is scarce of water; this is what needs to be shown to them. I can speak of myself being one of them.

I had a very filmi view of the villages there. Sparse, draught-like land with dark, Veerappan-like moustached men with sickles in their hand ready to slit throats of the farmers, hungry and naked children running about with runny noses. But with all the lovely landscape, conservative (maybe) but nice and friendly people, devoid of any of the brashness I had seen in cities like Chennai or movies at large, this was a complete revelation for me. T'veli rocks.. :-)

We visited a dam called Kariyar and a small waterfall nearby. The route was through a forest which was also a Tiger reserve. Very green and beautiful and weather was perfect. There were amazing rapids along the path of the river and I really think, one could attract more tourists in the area for white-water rafting and such. And the next day, husband and I trekked up the hill adjacent to the township. It was nearly a 2 hour trek up along slush and canals and general greenery, not to mention unpleasant, creepy companions like chameleons and insects. On the way back, we lost our trail. We kept going round in the same place. I was getting slightly worried because I was losing out on time to catch the train back to Bangalore. Finally, we went all the way up again and this time we got the path right. I did a dramatic DDLJ-type sprint to catch the train just 2-3 min before its departure. Only difference being that there was no Raj to pull me into the train, it was more like the husband pushing me into it. ;-)

But all in all it was a nice relaxing trip and a good start to 2006. Oh and I, now, know all the hit-and-not-so-hit tamil songs till date. Chandramukhi and the ilk. Will put up pictures soon. :-)

Reflections...

2005-12-09T15:00:00.000+05:30

They met at coffee day and got talking. At the end of the day, she smsed him that she wore thick glasses when she was not wearing contact lenses". He shot back "Yeah well and I wear braces". She thought he was weird, but he did interesting things in life. And he went back trying to see how he can get out of the mess. They met again after a few days and talked some more. She did not know what she was looking for. He did not know either. But they saw that there wasn't anything significant enough not to like about the other and got along. They watched plays, went for movies, they liked similar food, both loved to read, he was an avid naturalist and loved mountains and wildlife, she was content watching such shows on Nat Geo, but did not mind accompanying him to his trips, she loved listening to old Hindi classics and he could not tell between Kishore Kumar and Mohd Rafi. He taught her about Drongos, sunbirds and Signature spiders and she made him listen to Hemant Kumar and Talat Mahmood. He was reasonably romantic and she was too lost in her world to notice or be one. He was even tempered, cool-headed and she had a fiesty temper that could make any self-loving individual run for cover. They fought, they patched up, they ignored, they confronted, they drove each other up the wall, and they made each other laugh. And today, they successfully complete one year of marital bliss, wondering what a whirlwind trip it has been.

Bad and good hair days...

2005-12-07T17:00:00.000+05:30

Oh.. My work life sucks! I know its just been a week here. But there has to be something more meaningful to do than just stare at a machine all day, pretending to be working when there is no work at all. I am either found playing sudoku or solving crossword or reading blogs with a wary lookout for anyone walking past my desk and catching me doing any of the said activities. I am tired of checking emails every 5 minutes and I am tired of writing emails too (not that I have written too many lately, simply out of boredom).

This place, like any other city in the south, wakes rather early. Folks start pouring in to work at 8AM beating the famous Bangalore traffic. I don’t even want to know what time they leave from their homes. 8AM - Outrageous! That’s the time I am usually sleeping or debating whether I should snooze my alarm time by another half hour. And this would continue until the maid deftly rang the bell at about 9AM or so. Early morning was a forgotten, dark past during school and the memories only bring back ghastly images of my bro and I, waiting for the school-bus at 6:00AM on a chilly Delhi morning amidst all that smog in layers of sweaters and blazer. And here, the maid promptly rings the bell at 6:30AM. I am roused from a nice, warm, cozy bed into a cold morning with chilly breeze hitting my face when I open the door for her. Its different that I try to sleep until 8-830 after the maid leaves. But it’s not the same. Early morning sleep is such an essentiality of life. Now, I am forever sleepy and cranky and crash by 11PM.

I used to go to work whenever I felt like it - Thanks to flexi timings. But more often than not, I used to get to work by 10:30-11AM and I used to work until 8:30-9 on a lean day and well into midnight on a fire-day. And here, I see headless desks by 5PM. I have adopted the most effective work schedule for now. I go to work by Mumbai timings and get back by the rule of this land. And on whining, to the boss about my unemployed state of affairs, he tells me to take it easy since I have just joined and stuff. I mean, hello...! I am not a newcomer here. If you don’t have work for me, then I’ll stay put and beautify my new home. And since, it’s an unsolicited situation; I don’t want you to cut my leave reserves either. I wish employers were listening..!!

Oh and I love my new look. Got a new hairdo at one of these hep looking salons yesterday to spruce up my mundane look and pamper my senses. At least, I have a new pet pursuit to divert my attention to. It’s short and uneven and unkempt but looks cool. The few people, that I know here and saw me yesterday, think it looks good and I am thrilled to bits. Talk about letting the hair loose literally and metaphorically..!!! :-)

Of migration and nostalgia

2005-12-01T16:30:00.000+05:30

Looks like I have been away for way too long. Well! I have been up with things significant and trivial, interesting and painstaking, disgusting and thought-provoking. There was migration to a new city and the associated troubles, change of work place, anxious wait for the same to happen, too much of travel and religious activities for the immune system of my body to handle, joys of reuniting with parents, fighting a viral fever and cold.

Feels weird leaving Mumbai though. I wouldn’t say it is the best city. But its the place I have always felt close to. It’s been home for almost 20 years (of course, with breaks in between). Lived through the toddler years in a small 1 bedroom railway-compartment-like flat far into the suburbs of Mumbai with memories of dad traveling 120 km everyday in a mad rush to get the 7:37 AM local to Bombay VT. I also remember this bunch of Marathi kids with whom I used to run about in the locality speaking like them, trying to be one of them and succeeding too to a large extent. The walks to a nearby school which used to seem like a long distance trek with our kid strides. The primary school was spent in better parts of the city with a more posh and multicultural setup. That was a great childhood period when concepts like best friend and extra curricular were prime focus in life. Right from playing gully cricket to violin, swimming and all such recreational classes, there was not a minute to lose in the day. Then came the last 4 years of my life. The best 4 years which shaped my ideals, my thoughts, my personality in general and it’s this period that I owe the most - the joys of singledom and independence, the professional life. Discovered so many facets of me which I never knew existed. I was completely kicked by the living-life-on-your-principles thing. And then, of course came a year of marital bliss. Life was definitely not quite a bed of roses but it wasn't bad either. Old movie halls, packed locals at 1 AM, the squabbling women in the ladies compartment, railway stations with sea of heads, multiplexes, roadside vadapao, swanky bistros and eateries, friendly neighborhood Pandu hawaldar always on prowl to extract money from unassuming drivers, buggy rides on marine drive at 2AM, bandstand and juhu beaches, Shanmukhananda hall and my violin classes, monsoons, potholes on western express highway, plays at TATA theatre and Prithvi, irish coffee at Prithvi cafe, Phoenix mills, endless waits outside SRK's bungalow, the panipoori-wallah down the street, Okra manchurian outside Cinemagic, pesto at Pop tates, yummy butter sauce at Restaurant 5... I am going to miss them all.. *sigh sigh*..:-(

And now, Bangalore is full of surprises. It’s nice in a lot of ways and equally painful too. Weather is great though it caused me to fall ill and I am still recovering. It can look like a laidback town with shanties and mud houses and, a few yards ahead, look extremely cosmopolitan with hi-tech, state-of-the-art buildings. Driving around the city gives me immense misery as of now because I end up getting lost 99.993% of the times. The only route I manage, so far, without any problem is to my work place because it’s a straightforward route and there are no one-way-two-way networks whatsoever. I detest the autowallahs here. They are not much of a mafia-variety like that of Chennai but lets just say, I have been spoilt by the honest and just autowallahs in Mumbai who never cribbed to take you to any place in the city. I love the houses here and specially the one where I stay. A well-lit, sprawling house with a lot of windows overlooking greenery, away from all dust and grime and vehicle noises, it almost seems like I live in a farmhouse. I haven't really seen the worst of traffic jams that everyone talks about in the city. But I definitely managed to get a taste of eateries and pubs of the city. Though the cannelloni tastes different here and day ends rather early in the evening, I like it as of now as long as there is someone giving me precise directions to get to anywhere and for that I have to master Kannada real fast. .:-)

Predictions and premonitions

2005-10-10T18:00:00.000+05:30

The astrologer told her she has a fantastic future. Except for the next one year when she might face some trouble with an indecisive mind or a theft and such. He gives her a semi-precious stone and tells her to wear it as a ring to ward off obstacles in that year. They mark his word like the 11th commandment and reward obscene figures of currency to him for his "impeccable" forecast. She listens in helpless silence with disdain and cynicism and rubbishes it all fervently hoping they see sense in all the drama at the end of the day. They tell her how important such forecasts are in life. And she thinks, who cares for forecasts when she is responsible for the ongoing in her life and not some stellar performance or a moonstone. One fine day, she loses her cellphone in a crowded bus. Their sympathies and concerns are lost like a water droplet in the ocean of glory of the accurate forecast. And she curses her fate for letting the Astrologer go one-up against her, taking all 'undue credit' and gives measurement of her ring finger to the jeweller.

The homecoming

2005-09-30T18:30:00.000+05:30

Sometimes by stroke of luck, I manage to get brain waves. Sometimes, someone sets me thinking on something, which was always there in front of me and that leaves me wondering, why did I not think of it in the first place. The other day, I was in a slightly downbeat mood. My dear bro broke the news that he was sailing away to the western shores rather unexpectedly, within a week or so. And that day, he also announced that he aint flying through B'bay.

Now, we share a very buddy-buddy, partner-in-crime type relationship. I was this elder sis who he emulated [At least for sometime in life! :-)]. He had his self-proclaimed birthright on all my schoolbooks, my comics, my games and sports. Being 2.5 years younger to me, he knew which story is the best in my English textbook; he knew all the multiplication tables, that a 7 year old ought to know, at 5. Needless to say, he was the one of the popular kids, the teacher's pet varieties. All the reputation, I took years to build, he managed in less than half the time. But there were some things I was lauded for which was enough to keep me err... motivated. I was the hard-working, systematic, quiet and obedient kid with a good handwriting and flair for drawing. [Teachers' observations, you see… :p]. And he was a talkative, intelligent, naughty yet adorable bag of mischief with an awful handwriting.

I remember one particular incident when he was in III or IV class and it was the mid term examination results time. He had scored 50/50 in all subjects, but had got an 'F' in Art and Craft. So his sure-shot first rank turned into a no rank because of his flunk grade. This, his class teacher announced to me with utmost sympathy while, in the last bench he was busy tweaking ears of the girl ahead of his bench and ducking for cover. I went home wailing and howling and told mum, how bad it was that he lost out on his first rank while he walked home with a triumphant what-is-all-the-fuss stride. It’s different that the Art teacher converted the 'F' to 'C' the next day and let him have his rank. But I was amazed at his 'bindaas', blithe attitude to life. Not much has changed even now. He is the same cool kid except that he's grown into a huge, ominous 6 ' frame.

To think of it now, we have lived apart more than the times spent under the same roof. We don’t talk to each other for over a month sometimes. But I can definitely say he is my best confidante and knows me more than anyone else. He's been privy to all my crushes, heartbreaks, turmoil’s and he’s also been the one who has kicked my butt the most [rather he’s the one to whom I've allowed the privilege.;-)]. We've had our share of pillow-fights, fist-fights [Thankfully this was when I was a taller, stronger, authoritative sister], truces, adolescent embarrassments of each other around in our circle of friends.

I guess I am totally off-track into memory lane from what I had set out to post. So last week, after he said he's flying to US, I was kinda morose that I wouldn't be seeing him for a year or maybe more. Out of exasperation of seeing a grumpy, sulky face for a while too long, S suggested why not I go to Bangalore and see him during the weekend. My mood swung from extreme gloom to extreme glee within seconds and I started making plans to making a quick trip. Thanks to all these no-frill, all-frill, short-skirt-crewed airlines doing the rounds in the country off late, I managed reasonably decent-priced flight tickets to and fro. The catch being that my homecoming would be a complete suspense. After all, it was my first trip home after marriage and somewhat special in that sense.

I woke up groggy at 430 on Saturday morning and managed to get into the flight at an unearthly hour and was promptly received by my dearest friend M at the airport. Cruising through bad traffic and unknown routes, she managed to take me home in one piece - my excitement with the suspense building on with every moment. I was visualizing that I'd ring the bell and look at the surprised faces and gleeful hugs from folks when they open the door.

We lost our way getting home and had to get bro to wait at some significant landmark. First suspense broke right there but it was ok. He was too shocked to say anything until we got home... ;-)
The door was open ajar when I got home and so the ringing-bell-gleeful-hug option was off too and worse still, dad was right in the middle of the living room talking away on the phone, not able to show any surprise. Mum had stepped out for some shopping and was on her way back, when dad managed to catch her from the balcony and break the suspense by telling her too. So there...!
My suspenseful antics came to an end rather predictably. And after all the hugs and squeals, I had to hear stuff like, "we knew that you'd be coming after all"... *hmmph*

Mobile woes

2005-09-28T16:00:00.000+05:30

1 Message Received, one morning, buzzes her mobile
Must be his message she squeals in delight

I'll see you sometime is what he had said
so what if, that day, he was slightly inebriated

She jumps across the bed and stretches out
to the corner of the room where her fone is charged

She stops short of reading with mind afflutter
Oh, how'll I tell him - my love, with courage mustered

His gaze, his note is all she craves for
his music, his books is what her shelf is full of

How emotional undercurrents overwhelmed her
when he invited her for a drive and dinner

How distracted and wary, that day, was she
when he sat next to her in the movie

How she remembered the first touch and nudge
Even if it was to cross a busy road, it was too much

And flashes the message, teasingly, in front of her
'Good Morning dear Airtel Customer...'

She deletes the message with a dismal smile
and she writes, 'wassup dude? its been a while..'

Tagged...

2005-09-22T14:00:00.001+05:30

Tried a bit of short story telling in the past. But 55 word short story, hmm..
Anyway, thanks to swathi, my chance to spin a yarn...

She was this sprightly, intelligent, sensible kid, apple of her parents eyes, pampered with freedom that she deserved and gifts she did not ask. Her fierce sense of independence was intriguing; her achievements were moments of pride and failures were moments of cheered hugs.
Until one day, when she turned 27... and still single.

To keep the custom going, I'd like to tag meeta and lavi.

And I just got back after a short, relaxed trip to Goa. What can be more blissful than watching the seawaves for hours on end, lazing by the swimming pool, reading a book, listening to the birds, watching TV, doing nothing at all, riding bikes without a license on empty roads, watching pitter-patter of the raindrops from the balcony, good food and some Vodka to heighten the spirits... :-)

Over the last few days...

2005-09-15T16:30:00.000+05:30

I am back from UK and had a swell time. Was a memorable stay albeit lengthy hours at work, sleepless nights and even more hectic weekends. The most hated activity through the trip was shopping. I never had much of a penchant to shop even otherwise and racking my brains to come up with meaningful gifts for near-and-dears was turning out to be very wearisome and putting me into some sort of depression.

Long distance air travel can be very very tiring. One can’t get up and stretch when one wants to like in rail travel. The enormity of the flights and the number of people the airliner can seat can make you claustrophobic sometimes. The sight of matronly airhostesses and their curt demeanor can tire you some more.

I liked the jetlag part the best. One just had to mention the word at home to get pampered and saved off the guilt of lazing around. :-)

I land in Mumbai and the rains had to happen. I think I might have done something to displease the rain gods in my previous birth that they stalk after me so much wherever I go - Manchester or Andaman, Mumbai or Gujarat.

I like my unemployed status at work right now. Getting around to write long mails to people who have probably forgotten my existence and waking them from their reverie and finishing all my quota of blog reading.

And before I forget to mention, my day is made by this hot firang client from my ex-project. I have always heard about his Greek-god type looks from a lot of my colleagues and I have been dying to meet him ever since. Today, I gate crashed into this video conference just to have a glimpse of him and guess what, not only did I get a chance to see him, but I, also, got a few explicit words of praise and thanks for all the good work I had done in the past from him. I have been dazed ever since today. I guess I will have a good sleep tonight...:-)

My travel diary - Part II

2005-09-06T11:00:00.000+05:30

Been a rather dreary last week with work, work and more work. No time to marvel at the lovely petunias and germaniums growing wild in the pavements and dividers of the motorway, no time to watch cute old couples walking around holding each others hands and looking at each others’ eyes, no time to watch cute little blonde girls with pink cheeks, wearing pink clothes and pink shoes, no time to look at the young college going kids displaying their cleavage in the front as well as the rear..;-)

No time to crib about the shops that believed in shutting down by 5:30 in the evening, no time to notice the most sexiest cars of the world zipping past, no time to notice how friendly and nice some people can be – especially the old people, no time to think that there is so much left to shop for near and dear, no time to see what’s latest with Katrina’s and the epidemics of the world, no time to notice the English stiff-upper-lip sloshed in alcoholic stupor in the weekend, no time to notice how globalized the country is, no time to gape in awe at the amount of potatoes people consumed in this country, no time to notice how uninhibited the lovers are in this country with their display of err.. affection..:-)

Anyway, I guess one gets the gist now about how busy in life I was. But anyways, I also had my share of fun covering Lake District, New Castle, Yorkshire and Wales over the last two weekends and also managed to do some driving in this country. Driving an SUV does give you such an intoxicated kick. It’s one of my dreams to own one some time in life. Also managed to see Llandudno in Wales where Lewis Carroll wrote Alice in Wonderland.

But at the end of it all, I miss home, I miss its people, I miss the hustle and bustle and the frenzied lifestyle, I miss the traffic jams and honks, I miss the hot pepper rasam and rice on a cold winter morning, I miss the fact that room-mates in India were far more sweeter and easy-going, I miss the splurging and enjoying what I buy, I miss the Hindi serials, I miss the Hindi movies, I miss waking up late on a Saturday morning, I miss my predictable mundane lifestyle, I MISS my old life and I just cant wait to get back.

Hopefully by end of the week! The image there is that of Lake Keswick, one of the lakes in Lake district.

My travel diary - Part I

2005-08-26T01:10:00.000+05:30

Machines, broadband everywhere, but not any time to blog. That’s my status over the last few days that I have spent here. Work has been hectic. Coordinating, trying hard to understand European multi-accented English, reviews, meetings, discussions, deadlines and so on and so forth. Only good thing thus far has been my weekend trip to London. Today, I sit here in the comforts of my corner cubicle at work, sipping earl grey Tea and deciding not to work too hard.

I camped at a cousin's place in London and got an amazingly royal treatment with sightseeing, yummy homemade food (I am so tired of living on Maggie and fries already), long drives and two adorable kids. No they were older than the brat I met on the flight and so I could gel better answering their countless questions and fooling around with them. They are so much better when they are 5-6 and older. Saturday was spent on the customary London darshan. Started with Madame Tussaud. There was an hour-long queue to get into the museum and most of my enthusiasm fizzled out in waiting on forever. The museum was too crowded like a movie hall during interval with people clicking away pictures with Brad Pitt (standing next to Angelina Jolie!), Pierce Brosnan, David Beckham, The Royal family, Princess Di, heads of other countries etc. There was a huge desi population clicking away pictures with Aishwarya Rai and Amitabh Bachchan. I think they were the worst of the lot. Aishwarya Rai, overly made up with glittering-blue eye-shadow on a magenta sari looked horrendous, like one of those yesteryear vamps of bollywood (Nope, I dont mean the Helen, Nadira varieties. I mean the insignificant ones with a bad wig, tight clothes and powdered faces and caked make-up). Amitabh Bachchan was equally sad. The wig just did not suit him. Imagine jet-black well-conditioned silky-haired wig that would put any of these "Heads and Shoulders" models to shame, on an icy white french beard. It looked totally fake. I mean I know they are all fake but this was nowhere close to the original. :-)

Lingered around for a while clicking pictures and then made way to Greenwich to see the observatory. Nothing much there except to realize that you are walking on Longitude 0 deg 0' 0". In fact, there was this shop near Greenwich Observatory called The first shop of the world 0 deg 0' 1". :)
Then did the customary Big Ben, London Bridge, the unassuming Buckingham Palace with loud golden gates, Piccadilly circus, Trafalgar square etc. And the next day went for a nice countryside drive to a beach in southern England in a picturesque village called Gorring. The beach shore was full of pebbles. No sand whatsoever and apparently all England seashores were like that. Was a hectic but satisfying weekend trip.

Weekdays are spent at work mostly and evenings on strolls to buy petty sundry things. It anyways remains bright and sunny until 10PM in the evening, which is kinda funny. Freaking out on lasagne, pies, quiches and stuff at work for food and settling for boring Maggie and other packaged food for the night. But so far it’s been good. The weather is perfect. Reminds me of the onset of Delhi winter except that it’s far less polluted and clean. Its pure bliss to sit by the window doing nothing but just smell hot brewing tea and feel the warmth building within you after the first sip and snuggling up into warm quilts. Planning to visit Lake District and Wales this weekend. Lets see how it all goes…:-)

Oh and thats the picture of the motorway right outside where I stay. Very picturesque, na?

To be continued....

Baby blues

2005-08-17T06:45:00.000+05:30

I am back connected, wired, booted back into the world wide web. Was an eventful flight to Manchester. I had lot of hopes of rubbing shoulders with the Shah Rukh Khans and Abhishek Bachchans of the world in the flight to London, which is undoubtedly the favourite haunt for the bollywood starlets to run behind trees with the opposite sex along with million other pelvic-gyrating dancers. I was also hoping to seek company of these studly looking hunks who seemed to hover around for the same flight. Alright alright, I know I am married. But mild flirtation doesn’t hurt anyone does it? :-)

I was one of the first to get to my seat in the flight. Much to my disappointment, I did not encounter any – let alone film stars, not even the saas bhi type soap opera extras. I looked at every studly guy expectantly who passed by. No one seemed to have a seat remotely close to mine. And suddenly I see this heavily pregnant lady making her way through the aisle with a rather impish looking kid. Now children and I have a long history of ‘mutual admiration’ and I was in no mood for any such stuff. I was muttering under my breath hoping the lady shifts the direction and heads elsewhere. And in the next moment, I see her settling down in the aisle seat on my row with the wailing kid tucked in safely in the middle seat next to me.

They showed the movie Black. I like the first half of the movie with young Rani Mukherji learning to cope with her handicap. I think the young girl did a commendable job. In fact, I thought she was better than Rani in the second half. I watched the movie until the first half and then decided to pull the blanket over and go to sleep. I had just about drifted when suddenly my thighs felt heavy and I woke up to see this pesky kid trying to get to the window. I kinda have him nasty glares so that he realized I am not all that goodie. It did have some effect on him for a while. Pleased with myself, I turned over and curled back to sleep yet again. After a while, I felt a leg on my back. This time, the kid was trying to climb over my seat and jump into the back seat. I pushed him back into his seat and tied the seat belt tightly around him. After a few minutes of wriggling and twisting, he finally managed to free himself and continued his tormenting acts on me yet again. This time, I blew the top. I gave the child a tight pinch and sent him howling away to his mother for the next 10 min. The poor mother was too overwhelmed with her ‘burden’ to say anything to her kid or me and I instantly felt sorry for her to be bringing another of the pesky brat into the world and felt immense admiration for her infinite patience with this menace. But the pinching trick did make him sit in one place and finally drift off to sleep for about an hour. That’s about the only time I got some shut-eye in the 12 hour journey.

I had a transit from London to Manchester. And all I remember of my brief stay in Heathrow airport was walking, walking and more walking. Must have walked nearly 2-3 km that day trying to claim just my baggage. And some more to get to the domestic terminal.

Manchester is really beautiful. Excellent weather, good food, cute red-bricked DDLJ-type rowhouses, nice well-equipped apartment with French and Argentine roommates, nice work environment and little jetlag, life is a lot of fun and it’s a beautiful sunny day. I am transforming into a Brit already.:-)

Of rude people and overseas journey

2005-08-11T08:30:00.000+05:30

Been a very hectic last few days with work and a lot of running around, getting my visa done and meeting some grumpy people through the way. The other day I got stuck badly at work and it was 9PM by the time I remembered I had to get my visa papers in order with signatures from various hierarchies in the organization. Now typically these signatory characters are born on earth to play tough and pain the hell out of you. At 9PM, I panicked and went to my boss and told him about the miss. He happened to catch this woman at her telephone extension. He told me to run and get her signatures before she runs away. Because, typically, this lady from the said department is not quite the late-bird varieties like the unfortunate us. Her job is to go through list of people who want a transfer and arrange it by tormenting the hell out of them, to try finding work for people who are on bench and so forth. Why I needed signature for a visa form from this lady is beyond my simple brain to understand. But still, I quickly sprinted to my desk and called her to be sure she doesn’t escape through the stairs while I take the elevator.

Me: Hello. (At this stage, I did not know her name) Can I talk to anyone from ABCD department?
She: Yes. Speaking. *Never heard a more toneless voice before in my life*
Me: Hi, my name is RT. I actually had to get my EIF form signed so that I can submit the same along with my Visa papers at the Andheri Office tomorrow morning. Can I come to your desk for the same?
She: *in her toneless best* Come tomorrow. I am busy today.
Me: *Level 2 strategy. Bringing in a sycophantic tone*. Sorry it’s late in the evening. But I live in Andheri and I have to come all the way to Borivali tomorrow just for your signature and go back to the Andheri office to submit my papers. I have to be flying this weekend and I am short of time. It will take you only 2 minutes to sign this form.
She: *Tone level slightly higher* I am busy with something else and its late. Please come tomorrow. I cannot sign it without verifying.
Me: (rather disappointed) *cursing her dreary voice under my breath* Ok! What can I say? Thank you.

I trotted back to my boss’s desk again and narrated her curt demeanor. He called her and gave her some gyaan about how everybody works late and is pressured in life with some deadline or other and urged her to sign.

Then, I went to her desk. She was busy on the phone. I kept waiting. 5 min passed, 10 min passed. Then she snatched the form from my hands without looking up at me. She put her signature and wrote some gibberish stuff that I did not require any other approval from the other higher authority. But I decided to ask her nonetheless since I did not want to take chances. She just stared at her machine and it was for me to understand that no approval was required. What a rude woman I muttered while tracing back the way to my boss’s desk for his signature. And I was stunned by what he told me as the reason why she did not want to sign my paper today. It was, apparently, because she thought I was very rude on the phone. *I ask ya??? *
I am certain now that some people are born with kidneys in their cranium!!

Oh, and the visa is for a 3 week trip to Manchester. Traveling to Britland in the weekend if all goes well. :-)

Friends

2005-08-03T16:00:00.000+05:30

She was this happy-go-lucky, sweet, ‘ambiverted’, friends to many, enemy-to-none, levelheaded, intelligent, pragmatic girl next door. He was enigmatic, a closed book, hard to get, friendly, straight-forward, good friends with handpicked few, intelligent, sweet and moody. In spite having known each other since childhood, every meeting made them unleash new mysteries about each other. They enjoyed each other's company immensely, irrespective of whether they were across continents or a matter of meters apart. They talked about school, college, happiness’s, sorrows, gossips, music, movies, how difficult was her first attempt to wear the sari, how funny was the booze-party in his hostel, how her best friend’s marriage alliance experience had been, how his mobile phone fell into water, how she had a mad fight with her mum, how he lost his temper over his boss, how the music festival was getting along in her school, what books he's been reading, who her latest crush at work was, how hot his Salma-Hayek-lookalike colleague was, how she felt on top of the world when wind kissed her cheeks and clouds caressed her feet during her trek trips, how elated he was when he bought his first car...

They talked about everything and they talked more about nothing at all. They would lose touch for months and when back together, they'd hit it off from where they left. Neither missed each other during the hiatuses nor had a pulse-racing exhilaration on hearing from the other. Both parents took pride at their fond friendship.

One fine day, she announced that she was getting married to one NRI dude her parents chose for her. He was most happy for her. And they continued their banter as always. But when they met a month before her wedding, an unexplained tension overwhelmed them. Neither of them spoke much but the uneasy silence said it all.

Today she is married and he, we hear, is engaged. And their tête-à-tête continues unabated.

What next?

2005-08-01T14:00:00.000+05:30

"Rain rain go away
Come again another day
Little Johnny wants to play
Rain rain go to Spain!"

But alas...! Rain wanted to come today, yesterday, the day before yesterday and, in all probability, wants to be here for what seems forever... :-(

Whew..! Been a crazy week. Started with a 9-10 km trek last Tuesday wading through knee deep water to accomplish the journey from workplace to home. And a 4 hour ordeal to complete it. Bearing through bad traffic jams, torrential downpour and floods with strong undercurrent.

Though it was raining badly the whole day, I did not anticipate anything different from the regular standstill that Mumbai goes through every monsoons, when local trains stop in the middle of the tracks, when people are stranded in the middle of nowhere, when schools and colleges shut down, when rains continue relentlessly for a day or two throwing life out of gear. Small time floods do happen during those days but in select low-lying areas of the city. It did not occur to me even when S called at about 4PM asking me to leave for home ASAP and that he was already on his way home since the 'situation was not too good'. It did not occur to me even when I saw some of my colleagues leaving work as early as 4-5 in the evening. Of course, it was with a reason that I was neck deep (not in water) into some important work with stringent deadlines and had to finish as much of it before calling it a day.

But going with the inertia, I left work at 8. And little did I know then that I would get home only well past midnight. I had no choice but to start walking towards home and hope the traffic jam cleared up as I walked ahead a bit. After a 4 km trek, the road did clear up and that was because there was water enough to drown the cars and auto rickshaws. Water was almost until my waist and pitch darkness and gutters/manholes made it even scarier to cruise past the distance. I kept to the beaten track at most places except one section of the route where water was deep and there was no soul ready to wade through. I was greeted by downpour getting heavier by the minute and what seemed like dead rats floating in the current. Ewww..!!! Decided to take the route nonetheless and stayed in the middle of the road which was actually a national highway. Thankfully some people took to the same route seeing me brave through alone. Then I was not as scared. Was actually a little pleased with myself for setting an example of sorts... :-)

Anyway, trying hard to ignore the floating objects which got entangled with my legs making me jump with fright and trying to steady myself through the strong water currents, I managed to get home at about 1AM. Was never more pleased and relieved in life to see the gate of the apartment building.

Life has been unsettled ever since with continued spell of showers of canine and feline magnitude. With no telephone - landline and other varieties, transportation, electricity (for a brief while thankfully!) and loads of work through weekend, I wait wistfully for sun to peep out of the clouds for a few minutes.

People say I went to Andaman and caused Tsunami, went to Gujarat last month and floods followed and now Mumbai. "What next??" they ask... :-)

Of the bespectacled hero and his anxious followers

2005-07-15T16:00:00.000+05:30

He had the most excited tinge in his voice when he asked me in the middle of the night yesterday whether I ordered for 'Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince'. I was not aware until then that the book was gonna hit the stores in the weekend. In my relentless quest for knowledge, I figured the auspicious date to be July 16, 2005. Not sure if Ms. Rowling believed in 'Rahu Kaalam' etc to zero down on such an unassuming date in the Gregorian Calendar. Almost, seems to me, like a wait for the most awaited world premiere of a Hollywood Mega Blockbuster. First of all, I find the whole idea of ordering for the book months in advance, a bizzarre concept. Till date, I have received 358 emails and 273 sms'es reminding me to avail the best price for the book if I did an advance booking. There are so many bestsellers floating in the bookshops. What makes these so special? I mean what is the whole deal about?

I can only deduce one of these:
... You are a desperate, fanatic stalker of Ms. Rowling's bespectacled protagonist and his friends and foes and the goblins and wizards and the other creepy-crawly creations. So much that if you are not among the first 100 to read the book, you are likely to suffer from withdrawal symptoms.
... You are striving to be the most up-to-date individual, competing for the Best Kept Harry Potter collection award, whether or not you have read the books. But yes, I would go with the assumption that you have read the books.
... You want to gloat to the world displaying your literary assets and you know, play the neighbors-envy-owners-pride game.
... You think life is short and it is but necessary that you read all HP books before you knock the Pearly Gates.
... You dont trust the publisher to publish enough books to satisfy all the bookworms of the world. Oh but with so many enthusiastic fans, I am sure these publication houses would not run bankrupt satisfying their demands.

But whatever may be the reason, the whole hype about the books and the pre-ordering business is rather too complicated and whimsical for my juvenile or should I say 'rusty' brain to comprehend. But hats off to Ms. Rowling for generating ripples of desperation in the youth and old in the planet and I hope the book lives up to the expectations. Amen.

*Going for a walk down the memory lane remembering the glorious days of the Five Findouters, Mr. Meddles, Malory Towers and Amelia Janes*

Mothers, I tell ya...

2005-07-14T08:30:00.000+05:30

Mother: Its nearing midnight, beta. What time do you have to get up? What time is your flight to Goa?
Son: Have to be at the airport at 4:30 AM. Will be up by 3:30. But you dont have to get up like this everyday. Its quite unnecessary.
Mother: You already had a long sleepless day today travelling to Delhi, that too with a delayed return flight. You must be tired, I will wake you up.
Son: I am ok, amma. I am not a child anymore. There are alarms at home. You dont have to stay up.
Mother: What if, by chance, you oversleep and miss the flight?
Son: I wont oversleep. I will be up by 3:30 and make sure I am at the airport by 4:30. Please go to sleep, amma.
Mother: (reluctantly) Ok. Fine, if you say so. (retires to bed)

Its 3:30 in the morning already. Son wakes to the shrill trill of the mobile alarm. Sleep is overwhelming and pulling him selfishly back to the bed and the mind is relentlessly trying to stir him up forcing thoughts of what needs to be accomplished in the day, the tele-booked flight tickets that he needs to collect 2 hours before the flight, the presentation about which he has no inkling, that he has to prepare in the flight for that meeting at 10 in front of the big shots of the company. He drags himself out of the bed, barely able to keep his eyes open and makes way to the bathroom, only to be greeted by amma waiting with a cup of coffee.

Madame M

2005-07-13T10:30:00.000+05:30

M came visiting me this weekend. Her first trip to see me after my wedding. And was I excited to see her!
It’s so funny sometimes that you meet friends after a considerable period of time and you are at a loss of any meaningful conversation. It kind of takes a while to get into the comfort zone, when you are back to being yourself in front of them. But this was not the case with M. Her chatty and warm demeanor instantly can put anyone at ease. And meeting her after 7 months (Yikes..! Seven months have passed!!!) did not seem like an eon. We hit it off from where we left.

It was funny to see her sport a ponytail now though. I mean I remember the first time when I met her at the company-training program 4 years ago. Her half brown and half carrot-red colored mushroom-cut-type hair and her white-faded-with-age gray shirt and dull-colored trousers instantly put me off. I thought her to be this smartass small-towner. And she thought I was snooty. :-)

She and I shared a strange sort of telepathic connection. I guess that’s what actually got us to be great friends. Both of us seemed to know what the other was thinking and many a times both would blurt out exactly the same comment or statement simultaneously, much to the surprise of others and us too. We used to get into trouble also together. We got thrown out of our hotel at 11, which is like the most unearthly hour in the sleepy town of Trivandrum. Almost lost our jobs by having the people in the server room of our workplace issue us warnings and memos for security breach for sharing passwords et al, got into trouble trying to get a girl, infected with chickenpox, treated in the heartless medical college hospital of Trivandrum, had the training head fuming and swearing at us for attending a session late (believe it or not, it was like that - being treated as children at workplace. Wonder how we took all the bullshit. Maybe we were kids after all :-) )

We both got posted in Mumbai. And shared the same apartment. She got a two-wheeler and life was all about painting the town red during weekends and working hard on weekdays. Movies, plays, pastas, wine, treks, long drives, cooking, playing host, cleaning, washing, cribbing, bickering, patching up, smoking - to check what is cool (?) about it and realize nothing is, midnight chats where she would keep talking and realize that she must stop the monologue when gentle snore is heard nearby, her beans-ki-sabji, my sambhar, me cribbing about new Hindi music and she cribbing about old…

Too many memories and far too little time and opportunity to relive them. Matheran, movie, long drive and hours of catching up notwithstanding. *Sigh*.

Whats in a name?

2005-07-06T16:00:00.000+05:30

Conversation between me and my Father-in-law today went this ways.
FIL: Do you know Sanskrit?
Me: Well, not really. Never studied in school. Knowledge of Sanskrit ends with some mantras/shlokas I might have learnt as a child with no attempt to know the meaning or whatever.
FIL: Do not feel offended but I was going through this (On the exterior, it was a torn and tattered sheet of paper of which I did not make an attempt to inspect contents) and happened to notice that your name RT means misery, pain.
Me: (visibly startled).. Whoa! I have always believed RT means worship, light... blah blah.. Even in Hindi, it means blah blah.. (Struggling to impress him with the limited knowledge of the meaning of my name and whatever positive aspect I could derive out of it)
FIL: That is the meaning in Tamil. In Sanskrit it means pain. So I have decided that from now onwards, I am not going to call you RT but XYZ (some basic type name I wouldn’t consider naming even my daughter's uncle's brother-in-law's grandchild)
Me: *Rolling my eyes* Gah..!
(MIL came into the scene to add to FIL's support)
MIL: In Maharashtra, women after marriage are given new names and are addressed that for the rest of their lives. And who knows, with the new name, your elusive abroad trip will materialize and good luck will come your way.
Me: *cringe* Yikes! (scooted out of the scene without turning back)

Initially, as anyone would have expected, I was kind of outraged by the whole negative analysis on my name, which my parents have fondly christened me with.
[Digression: The story goes back in time about 30 years, when dad was a bachelor who came to Bombay in search of a job with dreams and aspirations of making it big in the city of dreams as it is aptly called. He used to share his apartment with 2-3 other bachelors who worked with him and who still, continue to be his very close friends. Typical bachelor talks about life, career, promotion, marriage, children in that chronological order resulted in a heated and animated discussion on the name of their first-born. By stroke of telepathy or chemistry or whatever you'd call it, all the four were instantly in love with the name RT. All signed a verbal pact that if they had a daughter, they would all name her RT. And to everyone's intrigue, 3 out of 4 had named their first-born daughter as RT. And the fourth had a son. End-Digression]

Anyway, after the whole momentary thought process of resentment went past, a string of thoughts formed in my mind about the whole concept of name and the associated numerological innuendos and the astrologers etc who formed the 'middlemen'. I am not particularly religious or believe in such stuff and admittedly, look at all this with utmost skepticism and sarcasm. At the same time, I do not go around discerning and criticizing people who follow all of this. I guess, in reality, I am just a minority. It is rather fashionable these days to have a spiritual guru and gloat about the said guru and his 'teachings' in gatherings. Mrs. Kokilaben Ambani, Ms. (K)Ekta Kapoor notwithstanding.

I have digressed again. So as I was saying, I was just wondering about the credibility of idea of changing one's name to bring good luck. How does it matter to my guiding stars and guardian angels whether my name is RT or XYZ. Probably XYZ means murder, terror or some such outrageous word in some other language. What’s there in a name anyway? How does it help me get a promotion? How does it help in contributing to nation's GDP? How does it help provide good education to my Bai's child who's dropped out of school to take care of her younger siblings? Does the name change to XYZ give me some magical powers by which, with a swoosh of a wand; I'll visit exotic countries, become rich and famous without lifting my little finger? Where are the people who preached perseverance and hard work pays and lauded the dude who came up with "God helps those who help themselves"?

And I wonder wistfully. What Faith does to people!

Flashback into childhood

2005-06-29T15:00:00.000+05:30

Finally, prayers for a relaxed weekend were answered. Spent the weekend in the laidback town in Gujarat to be with my granny and uncle/aunt. It is a nice township like a college campus with greenery all around. Pleasant scents emanating from tall eucalyptus trees, shade-providing age-old banyan trees, smooth winding roads, peacocks astray all over the place, variety of birds, nicely maintained lawns and shrubs and a nice huge house with a lawn and a swing and truck load of books and goodies to eat. That's Bharuch for you.

Have a lot of pleasant childhood memories associated with the place. There was a time when my parents, my bro and I used to visit the place almost 4-5 times in a year. This was when my parents lived in Mumbai and any long weekend or school holidays translated to a trip to meet "Paati and Thatha" (grandmother and grandfather for the non-tam's). For us kids, it was a fun trip to paint the township red with the cousins. Waking up at 6AM in the morning was never a tedious task during vacations. We used to go for long walks looking for the peacocks in the morning. There was this spot where lot of peacocks used to, collectively, dance with feathers spread out - Totally fascinating sight. We'd be gone practically the whole day (except when tummy growled for attention) doing 'adventure' things like getting into the eucalyptus jungle, rolling down the sloped lawns near the township temple and be itchy the whole day after that, playing for hours in the parks, quizzing each other on country capitals, playing name-place-animal-thing, 20-questions and all such kiddy GK stuff, swimming, table tennis etc in the local sports complex, playing cards, Mille Borne, Scotland Yard, battleship etc with the family in the evenings, watching movies in the open air theater, ice creams and juices in the shopping complex and so on... Everyday was something exciting to look forward to. While moms and granny dished out yummy stuff like cakes, sweets, munchies etc, dads spent time watching TV and discuss work and other boring stuff and thatha kept busy with his poojas and shloka sessions and relentless hours of writing "Sriramajayam" in his notebook everyday and we, kids, had our own gang of friends and most afternoons were spent playing games with the neighborhood kids.

It was a mixed bag of feelings this trip. Some things have changed and some not. The kids have dispersed to far-away lands to shape their destinies, thatha passed away, uncle/aunt shifted apartments within the township. But the parks remain, the peacocks still lurk around, the roads still are winding and smooth, Paati's bhajans still ring through the ears in the morning, the temple still have sloping lawns. Some things will definitely not change. Our fancyfree childhood memoires and the immense fun that came with the baggage.

Raindrops falling on my head

2005-06-24T19:00:00.000+05:30

"Yippie..!! Rains are here..!"
I screamed with joy and exhilaration when the season's first rain happened this week. It rained torrentially for an hour or so and stopped. And the weather, outside after that, was absolutely fantastic. I sat by the window, smelling the first rain and watching the raindrops cleanse away the parched leaves, making them alive and sparkle. All animals, including the homo sapien variety, poured on to the road enjoying their moment with raindrops drenching their bodies and souls. The steady pitter-patter against the trees and the asbestos roof above the sun-shade of the balcony, the lightning and thunder seemed to make a statement that we have arrived and are here to stay. S and I went out for a drive that evening around marine drive. Was absolute magic. How I wish, the blissful moments just paused there.

The next day, all the ecstacy turned into harsh reality. I was ready to leave for work and it started raining slightly. *OK..! I can handle that* I decided that I wouldnt want my nice white shirt and black trousers to be spoilt by the drizzle. It was so far so good for the next 10-15 minutes in the auto-rickshaw which was err .. reasonably protected with two flaps of plastic curtain on either side of the back seat. The next minute, one terror Sumo came prowling out of nowhere. The angle and the trajectory from the tyres through the front seat was just perfect to splash water right on my face and my precious white shirt. *Eww..!!* The rest of the journey was spent ducking these predators and getting to work in less deplorable state. Its been raining cats and dogs ever since and hasn't stopped. In fact, one of these days, I had to actually force myself to stay indoors because of the heavy downpour throughout the day and postpone important meetings at work. That did it!!

The moments of bliss has come to a resounding halt. Much as I try to enjoy monsoon every year. Incidents as these spoil it for me. I am off to this sleepy little town in Gujarat called Bharuch tonight. The serene and quiet surroundings, golf, granny's pampering and lots of goodies to eat - totally looking forward for the relaxed weekend. Also with crossed fingers, hoping Its less rainy and mucky there. Amen to that.

Movie woes

2005-06-17T17:30:00.000+05:30

How does it feel when you've had a long, dreary week and you struck a lucky chord and managed to get tickets in the weekend for the movie you've badly wanted to watch and the hall is abuzz with noises and distractions throughout the course of the movie?
I have deduced 2 axioms on viewing movies in theaters in India.

1. Wherever in the hall you are seated, the guy/lady next to you can never stop yapping on his/her mobile
Ah! How tempting is the thought to clobber the fool in the movie hall who thinks setting the mobile to silent mode is the most heinous crime? Au contraire, it would be a shrilly Dhoom-theme in the loudest volume which could, in fact, ring through ears of Will Smiths or Abhishek Bachchans performing on screen. More so, the movie hall is the only place left in the whole world for these pesky creatures to be discussing their new hair color or sales statistics with some worthless beings at the other end. It is a matter of surprise, really, that it never occurs to them that they are such menace to mankind.

2. When it is a movie of serious viewing, there is bound to be a howling child in the neighboring seats.
Children are usually fun to be with and bring a lot of joy in life and all that. But while watching a movie, I cant help but look at them as these little evil imps on prowl to spoil the evening of the others. It is when there is pin-drop silence in the hall in a very intense scene of the movie, when the kid would want popcorn or would want to go to the bathroom or would want to simply shriek and howl for attention. I can't understand why these parents can't leave their kids with the maids or whoever and let the others watch the movie in peace. It’s sad that the whole tantrum thing of their children makes the hearts of the parents swell with pride. But sorry folks! All I feel like, at that time, is to box the ears of those devils and give them a good spank.

Children and mobile phones must be left at home before one comes to watch a movie. If they cant part with either then they should be banned from the hall premises as well. Hail Hitler!!

Farewell parties and the associated hazards

2005-06-09T11:30:00.000+05:30

There has been a spate of Farewell parties at work. People travelling abroad, people quitting, people getting transferred, people moving to other projects and roles and so on.

Apart from good food (Usually Pizza Hut or the heppish Indian cuisine varieties) and a small hole in the pocket, its fun listening to some farewell speeches - Some too whacky, some too politically correct, some too diplomatic and some totally bizarre.

When I had joined the project a year ago, one dude (Lets call him 'S') got a hard-earned transfer. Poor dude had lived all his life in Bongland and Mumbai's brash and fast life did not seem to suit him and his bong sensibilities too well. After a year of trying, he finally managed to get a transfer. His speech goes something like this:
"hello ebrybody, Its been a bhery great learning experience phor me working in VOS (prononced "bhaws") project. From the day I joined this (we hereby call it XYZ company) company, my only dream was to get a transfer to Kolkata and I have finally fulfilled my dream."
*Wow..! Talk about ambitions in life.*

In another instance, it was a farewell party for these veterans in the team who were travelling abroad. Pizza Hut comes up with these most whackiest songs for birthdays and other occasions. Where else does one hear rap for a birthday song with emphatic "Yo's" as fillers wherever it fit in to the song or didn't fit. Anyways, we happened to see this bunch of college-going kids in another table, one of whom had her birthday and the Pizza Hut crew made the kid stand up on her chair and made her announce to the whole floor that it was her birthday and they broke into this "Happy Birthday Yo!" type jig. Taking cue from this, we promptly informed the crew that it was K and S's special day too (the dudes travelling abroad). The same exercise followed for them too. It was good fun to see them go red with embarassment yelling to the whole floor that they were travelling abroad on an assignment with the crew throwing some more yo's for them..:-)

The latest one was the funniest. It was this Project Manager who joined our team for a brief time and got himself transferred to Delhi eventually. He was a total joker who spoke first and thought (or probably never saw the need to think) later. He used to come up with vaguest ideas on things he had no inkling about. He had the most chauvinistic thoughts on working women and very openly voiced his opinions to the 'womenfolk' of the team. He claimed to be the best cricketer after Tendulkar and just that he was forced into a 9-5 job.*Thank god for Tendulkar, Mr. A would've been the poster-boy and driving that Ferrari* And he, evidently, thought that women do not like to play outdoor sports or keep fit and they are best doing cleaning washing or read books for recreation. *Like washing, cleaning does not involve any physical exercise as his supposedly sporty activities*

When he was not at his desk, which was most of the times, we knew where to find him - gym or the Table Tennis room of our workplace. Since he was new, he had a lot of questions and I, as a lead, used to explain rather patiently the works. Then he would throw a fit and start comparing how things were better in his ex-companies and how XYZ was making things more difficult. This had become a habit and after a while, I used to avoid him like plague or give him dirty glares or raise my voice to show my disapproval at his attitude. I, then, hit upon this bright idea and got him introduced to co-lead of the team who complimented him totally. A rather demure and meek guy called N who spoke less and thought more..:-)
This dude stopped bothering me after that and life was good.

Enough said about our boisterous, women-hating, sports-loving, ever-lamenting manager. Finally the day arrived to say good-bye to him and we asked him to come up with a farewell speech. He started off with all the pleasantries about what all XYZ and the team had given him. * Ha! Liar! *
Then he went on about all the hardships he faced and how things stabilized with time. He had a word or two about each of the 20 members in the team starting with me who according to him was helpful, a good listener but one who got irritated very soon.
*Well, I cant possibly fake a smile for every occasion when your rant-mode is switched on. I have more 'real' things to worry about than your machine being slow or meeting rooms being busy or women not playing Table Tennis*
Then he went on in a clockwise manner around the table passing un-wisecracks on all the team members finally ending with N. And he goes, "I was new to the company and was quite lost in learning the processes and getting hold of the projects... (rolling his eyes lovingly to meet N's) Aur maine N ko dekha...!"
Now we all knew what was with the women-hating tendencies...:-)

All in a week's work

2005-06-05T07:00:00.000+05:30

A huge 'hum-saath-saath-hain' type family gathering, hajjar pujas, smoke all over my hair and eyes, 4 saree changes in 1.5 days (all worn 100% by me with no external help. Now thats something!), acting a coy not-so-newly-wed, indulgent socializing, nice yummy avial-type food, acting host for dinner to 25 guests spanning 2 days with strict CTQ's like no onion, garlic, rice or hotel prepared food, getting few praises on my culinary abilities, terribly terribly busy 12-14 hour work schedules, teleconferences with UK, France, China and US simultaneously while stirring paav-bhaji in the kitchen, lots and lots of driving through impossible roads and a bad stomach and fever and anti-biotics through the weekend..

This pretty much sums up my last week..:)

For my dearest Ambu Paati

2005-05-27T08:30:00.000+05:30

The good thing about Alzheimer's disease is that you get to meet new people everyday.
Oxymoronic though it may sound, but Alzheimer’s also brings back a lot of memories. Memories of my Granny (Paati in Tamil) who suffered from the disease and passed away 7 years ago. Whew, 7 years have passed! Time flies.

During my younger years, I remember her to be a very hard-willed, self-restrained woman who drove my mum up the wall with her irrational customs. An overwhelmingly commanding personality that she had, she'd spend hours doing puja, but her attention used to be divided judiciously with an internal detector to alert her for any kind of slip by anybody in the house. Whether it was the bai who touched the curtains by mistake with her "achoot" hands or if we touched food in the kitchen and did not wash hands or if anyone ventured near where she used to dry her nine yard saris.

I, particularly, remember one incident when one fine day, our main door just refused to open. We were all stranded out of the house with the latch not working. After calling the locksmith and fixing a new latch, we figured that the old latch was all rusted up. Apparently, granny had been throwing water into the latch every night after we went to sleep because she used to see vague people touching the latch everyday. It eventually, got totally rusty and one fine day stopped functioning...:-)

She was a stickler for punctuality. At 4 pm sharp, she'd be gone for a stroll and relax in the lawns of our building complex keeping a close watch on all mamis, mamas, kids, bais, hawkers who passed by until sunset. Another most prominent memory about her was her penchant for sweets. She had a huge, huge sweet tooth and used to take 4 spoons of sugar in a cup of coffee. She did not know Hindi but she loved watching TV for hours together. She knew every Hindi actor of that time.. Amitabh Bachchan, Dharmendra et al..:-)

During my toddler days, my parents say I was quite a bit of her clone. All the irrational customs mentioned above were nailed firmly into my little perceptive mind. So much so that I used to perfectly implement the newfound wisdom on all who visited us or we went visiting, probably causing a lot of embarrassment for my parents. As I grew older, I grew out of all that, thankfully..:-)
Later, it used to be small bickering about this, that and sundry. Mostly minor teenage rebellions against her preposterous customs.

As I said, she was a lady of strong character. Having sired 13 children and lost her husband quite early in life, she had come a long way. In fact she got 3 daughters and a son married after granddad's death which I think, for a woman of those times, is a remarkable accomplishment. I guess, even as a teen-ager, I admired that subconsciously about her though I did have my days of tussle.

However, as she grew older, her memory started failing her. At first she used to forget little things like not keeping track of time. After an afternoon siesta, she would go brush her teeth and get ready for a bath. That time, none of us knew this could possibly be the onset of Alzheimer’s. Later she started forgetting people - children's spouses, her children too. After a point, she had no clue with who she was staying with, but kind of knew we were the ones looking after her. That was the phase I enjoyed immensely with her and it left a very very strong impact on my life. She transformed into a child, with no clue on what she was doing, why she was doing, she needed to be nursed and fed, she needed to be hugged and kissed, she had the same innocence in her eyes that of a 3-4 year old. It was the time of shaping our careers (my bro and I) and bearing the board exams and all such horrible exams, and having her around was totally therapeutic. Just minutes spent with her would make us forget all such menial worries.

On this day in sweltering 47 degrees summer in Delhi, 7 years ago, she passed away in her sleep at 2:30 am. That sight is still vivid in front of my eyes. I was by her side, holding her, looking at her helplessly, looking at dad and mum with panic-stricken eyes while they were trying to revive her. I could feel her heartbeat stop, her pulse going down steadily. It almost seemed like she was still sleeping, the same curled-up foetus-like posture, the same serene, child-like look. It was the most heart wrenching moment of my life. I don’t know if writing about this in a public forum like this with so many people reading it is a good thing to do. Maybe not. Its a feeling so personal and I don’t know if I am destroying it by putting it up here. But I couldn't let go of this day without remembering her with a tear in the eye. I miss you Paati.

Telephone and the militant tendencies

2005-05-23T17:00:00.000+05:30

How many times have you felt like nuking some people (unrelated to the following events but someway related) -
…when you are out of town and enjoying a vacation
…when you are paving your way through bad traffic, with a signal breakdown
…when you are in an animated discussion in a meeting room with your managers and peers or
…when you are glued to the monitor breaking your head over a code which refuses to run however hard you try to troubleshoot ?
And your mobile breaks into a song, making you jump at the sudden rise in the decibel levels. And when you regain your composure and pick the call, it is some stupid dude or a lady, trying to sell you exactly the stuff you don’t want - credit cards, personal loans, car loans and such.

Its most annoying when the agents don’t check even the fundamentals before they push the buttons on their phone. Picture this:
Agent: Can I talk to Mr. RT?
Me: Hello!! Does my voice sound like a Mister to you? *Or is my voice like a male with a bad throat? Or do you have congenitally weak voice-recognition sensors in your brain?*
Agent: Sorry madam. *Absolutely no remorse* ICICI is giving you a free lifetime credit card with blah blah other features....

In other occasions,
Agent: Hello ma'm, am calling from ICICI.
Me: Ok?
Agent: We are offering a personal loan with the best interest rates and blah blah...
Me:(trying to interrupt) Well.. Err.. Excuse me, I am not…
Agent: (Taking no notice at my meek voice at the other end) Blah blah blah blah...
Me: (raising my voice a little to be sure he/she hears me) Actually, I am not interested...
Agent: (Still not noticed). We also give you blah blah payment options and some more blah EMI...
Me: *That does it*. Look, I don’t want your card.
Agent: Its not credit card madam, Its a personal loan.
Me: Ok whatever. I don’t care, I don’t want it.
Agent: Ok Madam. If you'd be interested sometime....*bang* (I have already hung up the phone)

Some opportunist ones:
Agent: Hello, I am calling from ICICI bank, Can I talk to Mr. ABC?
Me: No, he is not at his desk at the moment.
Agent: Oh! Its alright madam. Meanwhile, would you be interested in a car loan...

Some more enterprising ones:
Agent: A very good morning to you!!
Me: *huh?* Yeah? Who's this?
Agent: Can I take a few minutes of your precious time?
Me: *your clock is already ticking, you moron* Ok?
Agent: Ma'm, I had talked to you the other day about the offer.
Me:*Ah! Acting smart, are we?* No, I don’t think so.
Agent: Wonderful! We are offering a lifetime free credit card from Citibank.
Me: Look, I already have a credit card and managing another one is an overhead for me.
Agent: If you don’t mind me asking, which card is this?
Me: ICICI.
Agent: Oh.. ICICI does not give u blah features and blah blah options where as Citibank gives you ........So I would suggest you go for the Citibank card and surrender your ICICI card.
Me: *Huh!! What cheek! Not that I am fiercely loyal to ICICI and their services but someone directing me to do things was a bit too much* Look, I don’t want your card ok?
Agent: But why Ma'm, see what all advantages you derive out of it? And you can....
Me: (interrupting) I have told you in plain English I don’t want the card. Do you need further clarification?
Agent:(reluctantly).. Err.. Ok madam, Do you have any references who might be interested?
Me: *A quick mental scan through my list of dislikable people* No I don’t think so. Bye.

Some desperately honest ones:
Agent: Am I talking to RT Madam?
Me: Yes. Speaking.
Agent: Madam, we are offering you a low interest personal loan from...
Me: I don’t want a personal loan.
Agent: Ma'm pleeeeaaaase take the loan. I have to sell it to 5 people and I have not sold to even 1 person.
Me: *huh! Is charity written all over my voice or is my name numerologically giving her such signals?* I am sorry but I don’t want it.
Agent: Ma'm pleaaaase..
Me: Will you please let me carry on with my work?
Agent: (full sad and disappointed) Sorry madam.

After a point, I realized that the best practice to follow is to agree and say I am having the exact insurance policy or credit card or personal loan from the said bank. And immediately the conversation ends.

Agent: Can I talk to Mr. RT?
Me: *Sigh* Yes! This is RT *All people, caste, creed, gender are alike in the eyes of God, I guess*
Agent: We are offering lifetime free Citibank card.
Me: I already have a Citibank card, which is lifetime free.
Agent: Ok madam. Any references?
Me: No. Sorry.
Agent: Ok. Have a nice day madam.

That was easy, wasn’t it? Oops, my phone rings again..!! *Nuke 'em all - bang bang!*

Ode to driving and its teacher

2005-05-13T16:30:00.000+05:30

I had a one hour + long drive to work today dropping S at work in Santa Cruz and me at Borivali. As I was driving today, I realized how relaxing it is to have some music playing while cruising through potholes, wrongly named as roads, in Mumbai.

I was maneuvering through the rough and smooth and thoughts drifted to dad and his driving. To me, he is the hero, the best driver I have ever seen. Totally in control of the vehicle and knows what’s best for the car. He is an awful teacher though and has made me cry and panic on several occasions while teaching me to drive... But then which dad hasn’t... :-)
He would sit next to me in the car. And right from the time I turn on the ignition of the car, his string of issues start. I am driving too close to the pavement or I am not controlling the steering wheel properly, the vehicle is swerving, I am not applying brakes on time or I am on the wrong gear. I am not looking at the traffic behind before changing lanes or taking a turn or I am not going slowly enough over speed breakers and potholes... The list is endless.
I used to secretly wait for him to go on official trips out of station when I could slyly take the car to college. Of course mum, being my partner-in-crime and all that. But at the end of it, I, not only, learnt how to drive the car, but also know how to handle it best during the drive, the road sense, the traffic sense and everything. Mum, now, thinks I drive just like dad and that sure gives me a sense of pride... :-)

Dad is most short tempered on the road. If he sees anyone doing anything wrong, he'd slow down, make sure the cyclist or the pedestrian or the truckwalla or whoever gets to listen to his piece of mind loud and clear, no matter whatever hurry he is in. His gaalis are also quite funny. If a cyclist miscalculates and just brushes past the car, dad would exclaim, "Ghar mein bolke aaya kya?" (Translate that to tamil while in Chennai, Hindi in Delhi, Mumbai etc). Now this is a very common swearing in tamil which essentially means, that you are deliberately wanting to come under my car since you've informed home that you are gonna die today. But to a Delhi-walla, he wouldn’t quite understand what the fuss is about. “Ghar mein kya bolke ayenge?” one would wistfully wonder while dad would have finished and sped off miles. Another of his gem is to this 'huge' family of sardars, consisting of Banta Singh, his grossly overweight wife Mrs Banta Singh, their 10 year old son and some month’s old daughter who’d all be travelling in a luna-type vehicle. Obviously Mr. Banta would find it very difficult to balance his luna perfectly with the center of gravity getting displaced due to the humongous mass of flesh, Mrs. Banta Singh, riding as pillion. So while struggling to get his physics in place on the road, he'd have already attracted dad's attention. Promptly dad would scream out, "Kyon? Hum Saath saath hain?". And that would have all of us in splits including dad. Mr. Banta would be too busy to notice but we've all had a great laugh..:-)

Dad also has this most amazing way of listening to music on the road. And if they started playing Shankar-Jaikishen or Madan Mohan and such, he'd be totally tickled. He'd not only start singing the song out (which is ok, he has a good voice and sings rather well if you chose to ignore the heavy tam accent and distorted hindi). He'd then start honking to the beats of the song, totally confusing the guy behind the wheel in front of us.

As I was listening to music in the car today, I couldn’t help but realize, I have imbibed this too from him. I seem to sing out loud in the car with fingers tapping all over the steering wheel. Only thing I refrain from is probably, honking to the rhythm.
Who knows, maybe I'd start that too soon... After all hum bhi saath saath hain... :-)

Saddi Dilli

2005-05-05T16:30:00.000+05:30

I dont even think I wanna compare the checklist in this post with what I finally did in Delhi. But nonetheless I had a blast.

It started on a slightly bad note that the ever-hospitable Rajdhani Express, as I was saying here, reduced my stay in Delhi by 1.5 hours. I reached Friday afternoon and had A waiting for me at the ever-so-quaint Nizamuddin Station. After all those screams, squeals, hugs, preliminary catching up and mutual compliments on hair, weight and the ilk we got back to her apartment. Was pleasantly surprised to see a lot had changed between the short 3 km stretch from Nizamuddin to Lajpat Nagar - 2 new flyovers, empty roads and pollution-free breathing space.

Did some shopping at CP, Janpath and Lajpat nagar and ended up buying loads of junk jewellry, footwear and my elusive Chikan White Salwar that I was hunting for almost an era. I lazed around, I chatted up, I sacked out and I also cycled for 4 hours into the wilds of Bharatpur to seek 40+ species of birds along with my expert husband and friends. I saw the beautiful Fatehpur Sikri, the mystical Taj Mahal, I met up some of my old friends, I enjoyed the lovely weather with some moments of rain, I did pass through my old place but did not stop by. I was pleasantly surprised with the fact that though so much had changed, my memories were so vivid.There were so many things I wanted to do but this is all I could manage in my 2.75 days of stay.

Getting back to Bombay was another adventure. I was booked on Rajdhani (again!!) which I was dreading after the prior experience. My ticket was waitlisted and I reached station well before time to finally discover that my ticket was actually for the previous day's rajdhani. Much as I was happy that I was saved of all the 'hospitality', I was worried about my return back. I did some 'jugaadu' activities and managed to get some 50% of the fare back after making some convincing noises and explanations to the railway personnel. Also managed to get a flight ticket the same evening and landed back in Mumbai a tired but happy woman.

The trip was memorable, the stay was perfect, the weather was lovely and dal makhani by A was excellent (its a different thing her love for me was so overwhelming that she made it equivalent for 10 people when the said request was just for me) and the Taj was beautiful..:-)

Luxurious travel and its analogies with wedded life

2005-05-04T17:30:00.000+05:30

I think traveling in Rajdhani Express is just like living with my MIL. Both love to feed, feed and feed without really worrying about the appetite the said party might have. Both love to pamper you crazy with all luxury available. I had one such 'gluttony' and 'pampery' trip to Delhi by Rajdhani Express on Thursday and it was totally crazy.

Digestive system is a relatively unknown terminology in the lexicons of these railway attendants. Especially for irate passengers as me, who basically like to have their moments of privacy in train journeys with no one telling you when to wake up, when to eat, when to go to sleep and such. What I love to do in any train journey is lie in the upper berth and read like a freak and sleep like I haven't slept in months. Now that was typically not the done-thing traveling in Rajdhani. I would pick up a book and in the next 10 mins I would be offered a tray full of kachoris, frooti, some farsan-type thing, chai and call the whole thing snacks. So far so good since I have had a busy day at work and I have traveled in sweltering afternoon sun from Borivali to Mumbai Central to catch the train and my stomach is growling for attention.

I start to read again and in another hour and a half or so, I am thrust upon with another tray, this time its palak paneer, daal, paratha and pulao. Wow..! I would gladly have gobbled up the food on a regular day. But not when my tummy is still busy trying to digest the kachoris which I had about an hour ago. Anyways, I manage to somehow force the food down my gullet. When I thought the ordeal for the day is over, the attendants arrive with ice cream in the next half hour.

It was the most torturous time to go through. Thankfully, it was the last item in the day. Just when I thought that I can now read in peace and harmony, the harmony part was destroyed by the follow berth members. They just shut the lights in the berth without even looking at my side. How could they for they probably thought reading is the biggest blasphemy one could commit in a train. How rude..!!
First of all I am fed up to the brim and then I am deprived of reading and now forced to go to sleep at 10:00PM. Life couldn't get more unfair!

Next morning was even better. Attendants started hovering around with tea/coffee etc right from 7:00 AM. All my plans of sleeping until late lay shattered. I sat up at 7:30AM with a frown and made myself mentally ready for yet another 'feed' session. Started with Chai in the morning, followed by some frooti-like juice in half hour, followed by omelet and bread and one more glass of chai in another half hour.

Needless to say, the number of items I ate in the whole journey easily outnumbered the number of pages I read of my book or the number of hours I slept in the train. After this severely-indulging gastronomic experience I couldn't help thinking how liberal my MIL is. She at least lets me read and sleep. :-)

Around Mumbai in 100 bucks- The Sequel

2005-04-25T14:00:00.000+05:30

Much as I did not want to write about the not-so-paavam dude, his histrionics compel me to write a few more stories about him. We left him with the perception that the number 6 house must have brought him all the luck and laurels in life. One would have thought him to get a salary hike, to set up a nice house with his wife and do all the 'lived-happily-ever-after"-like activities. But fate had other plans for him.

He had paid whatever was due for the house-fixing like the deposit of the house, brokerage, rent and all such transactions and decided to move in last Wednesday.(Auspicious day and all of that!). On Wednesday, he knocks the broker's place at 7:00 AM. Now the broker usually opens his office only at 10:00 AM and was quite startled to find customers knocking his door at such 'unearthly' hours. On top of it, this dude gives him some incongruous reasoning.

Dude: Good Morning, I have come to collect keys because its Wednesday.
Broker: *Yawn* The keys are with the landlord.
Dude: *irritated* Since I said I will be moving on Wednesday, why did you not collect the keys from the landlord?
Broker: No sir! It doesn't work that ways. *Yawn yawn* I agree you said wednesday but its too early in the morning. I have to collect the keys from the landlord who'd be sleeping right now. *some more yawn*
Dude: This is not early in the morning!?! I have come in at 7:00 AM only, not at 5:00 AM. I have to go to office and this is the only good time of the day and from 9:00AM 'rahu kaalam' starts.....*some more rants*

Next thing, the dude arrives at our place and waits on until 8-8:30 until the broker gets back to him. After a futile wait, the broker announced that he'd be able to collect the keys only at 10. So this dude had no choice but to cancel his shifting plans. On friday morning, the dude shifts to that house and at night, he arrives home with a list of complaints. The traffic noise is a bit loud, the flush in the bathroom doesn't work, he has an upset stomach because of hotel food, water supply is erratic. He spent an hour talking about this, that and otherwise. And just when we would have expected him to leave, he sheepishly says he doesn't have a bed to sleep and wants a bedsheet and a pillow. All we could manage was exchange glances..:-)

Next day, the dude arrives at 6:30 in the morning, waking my poor MIL up. I woke a little late, and I saw the same silhouette in the hall *Oh no! not again..!* The crib of the day was that he could not sleep in that house because of the traffic noise. He managed to get only 2 hours of sleep. And lamented on how his lack of sleep could affect his productivity and eventually, render him jobless. *What foresight!* And because of this, he wanted to move out of that place. He had come early again to talk to the broker. Broker, a smarter man now, told his servant not to disturb him. So this dude waited on at our place until 10:00 AM. When he was told that if he leaves the house, he'll lose out on the brokerage and 1 month's rent besides the interest of the deposit, the dude looked visibly devastated. The look of horror on his face clearly indicated that the whole world was out to swindle him. Well what can anyone do if he did not realize that houses need to be evaluated before fixing the deal and numerology cannot help him achieve that? Now with a heavy heart and a disappointed mind, he continues to stay in that house and sleeps with cotton plugs in his ears.

Ab dilli door nahi

2005-04-22T15:30:00.000+05:30

Been a very hectic week for me thus far. Hardly had time to pay any attention to my little space. One of my friends complained that its been a while and I have not posted anything new. With the page counter and regular visitors growing by leaps and bounds, it becomes trifle tough to spare time or find something to rant about on a regular basis.

Usually, I blog from workplace at the time when I am waiting for a deliverable from someone or waiting for the conference call to happen or when I am totally jobless. Blogging at home never happens. Either I am too busy in the kitchen trying to help my MIL or I am watching my stressbuster k-soaps or I am too sleepy after either or both.

Today, its lovely weather outside, cloudy-but-not-quite-rainy types and I wish it continued to be this ways through the weekend. I have to be taking a friend shopping along linking road and such where I need to conserve energy for great deal of bargaining. I wouldn't possibly want it to get wasted by battling with the scorching sun. I also want to watch Hitch and Hazaaron Khwaishen Aisi. I want to drive the car around on nice smooth roads (a far-from-reality dream), I want to eat at Cafe 5 (I'll wait for you to get here, M :-) ). And I also want to take a break and go for a trip.

Talking of trips, I am going to be spending my next weekend in Delhi. I am most thrilled at the thought of visiting the place after 5 years. Would be good to meet up with old friends with whom I have been in constant electronic touch, have momo's and fruit beer in Dilli Haat, junk shop at Janpath, Sarojini Market and Central Market, travel on smooth roads along the India Gate area, have huge hot chocolate fudge at Nirulas, raj kachori at Haldirams, gol gappas at Lajpat Nagar and generally crib about the sweltering 40+ deg heat. Would also like to check out what our dear water-stealing neighbor (who gave us a tough time by err.. stealing water) is up to nowadays. Would also like to see how the college campus looks like and catch up on gossip on which prof is torturing whom and which junior/senior is seeing whom, would like to meet the mamis of the colony whom we visited every vishu to collect money, would like to see in what state of affairs is the metro rail from Shahdara to Nand Nagari (I wouldn't be surprised if cattle travelled with the milkmen in that route), would like to check out the cowshed-turned-retro Gurgaon which boasts of hajaar pubs and malls, would like to see the posh-pseud eye-candy junta around Chanakya and PVR, would like to see if Border movie banner still hangs on Uphaar theater walls and listen to the blueline bus conductors yelling 'baarder' 'baarder" (Thats just the border of Delhi and Faridabad, a place called Badarpur before you connect the calls to LoC or something. I have travelled that route endless times during my spartan-and-broke student days) .. oh my to-do list is endless for a 3 day visit. :-)

Anyways, the bottom line is I am so looking forward to this trip. Would have loved to be there in December. Maybe another trip. :-)

Indian Born Confused Indian

2005-04-13T15:30:00.000+05:30

"... So where are you from?” asked a colleague while she tried to make polite conversation with me in my company bus enroute home.
This question generates a rush of frenzied activity in my cranium to figure out the best and shortest answer possible. But so far, I have never managed an accurate answer. All this processing finally gives me a headache and for the same reason I run for cover whenever someone asks me this.

Been born and raised as an NRT (Non Resident Tamilian), the cumulative number of days of stay in Tam-land has not been more than 3-4 months all my life. Needless to say, Tamil evolved in a new dialect in our household with generous fillers of English and Hindi thrown in. Our linguistic skills (or the lack of it) were often brunt of the jokes of our much-Chennai-bred cousins. The shopkeepers, there, would throw skeptical looks at us and would eventually answer in broken Hindi until we oblige a few words in Tamil for a response. And then they would delightfully exclaim, "Ooh! Tamil aa?? ". It is quite an interesting sight when their faces light up that moment. The worst is when it is time to haggle with the terrorist auto-wallahs of Chennai. That’s when our "linguistic deficiencies" become so blatant. For the first time in my life, I visited a village recently and that happened to be my husband's ancestral village. Needless to say, I felt like a museum exhibit with all villagers staring away at me from head to toe like I have landed from Andromeda galaxy. In such a scenario, calling myself a Chennai-ite is not appropriate, especially when my parents, too, have spent most part of their lives in northern and western parts of the country.

I have spent substantial number of years in Mumbai, the earlier toddler years. The memories I have of the city back then, is nothing more than going to school, violin classes, evening play time with building kids, hoards of relatives and guests for whom my parents acted perfect hosts to and quarterly visits to meet my grandparents in Bharuch. Still I liked the city and enjoyed the number friends and the lifestyle I led. Was most unhappy when dad announced that he's getting a transfer to New Delhi. Still, at this stage I cannot call myself a Maharashtrian. Because I have not been particularly leading a lifestyle of a Maharashtrian, I had a cosmopolitan set of friends of which Maharashrians were a minority, I was celebrating all festivals pertaining to South Indians nothing close to Maharashtrians (with exception of Ganesh Chaturthi which is THE BIG festival in these parts), all family gatherings involved the few South-Indian families around the locality.

Delhi was a different experience. Would say most of the formative and juvenile years were spent there. Though the huge culture shock was overwhelming at the start, we managed to stay afloat, managing our way through crowded Blueline killer buses, hostile neighbors, the glitzy-flashy attitudes, the 'dadagiri', the Hindi speaking math teachers (imagine them going 'paintees', 'pachattar' and so on while teaching in class), the Hindi speaking Hindi teachers (their league was difficult to match), the bribe-seeking postmen, the terribly cold winters (I could write another post on that, my most favorite thing about Delhi), the scorcher summer, the hep colleges, the campus and hostel life, studying with geeks, the hatte-katte gorgeous looking men, the numerous crushes, the few heartbreaks, the smooth roads, the secret car drives when dad went off on official tours, the trips to "Cute Creations" with M......
In retrospect, it was a very mixed but enriching lifestyle. But that still does not qualify me to be a Delhi-ite. Besides some friends and memories, I have no other bonding with the city.

Now its back to Mumbai and my experiences I have elucidated here.
So, I guess I can only manage a 2-line answer to whoever asks me this question.
Yes, I am an archetypal case of a confused Indian. Born and raised in Mumbai and Delhi, trace my lineage to Tamil Nadu and speak Tamil with a hinglish accent.

Around Mumbai in 100 bucks

2005-04-11T15:30:00.000+05:30

Our telephone rang at 11:00 AM this lazy Sunday morning. A quaint, southie-accented gent was at the other end and he introduced himself as a son-in-law of my FIL's landlord in Chennai. He got a job in Mumbai and as expected he needed some help in finding an accommodation.

Now most paavam*-type first-timers arrive in Bombay with huge skeptic-gray tinted glasses on. Like the lenses can help them differentiate between the good and the evil, the samaritans and the swindlers. Like the lenses can help them from getting gobbled up by the aaneka-jaaneka-type-hindi speaking taxi-wallahs. Like the lenses can give them keen detectors to keep conmen at bay. (I wish the detectors helped them figure similarities between conmen and godmen, but I digress!). In my opinion, any new city visited will have all kinds of people. What is required is a reasonably good insight.

So this gent talks to my MIL and my naive MIL invites him home so that S (my husband) can help him around. She gave him the bus numbers which will get him to our place. So far so good. Next thing, she starts to speed up her cooking. She was all sorry for this gent and thought maybe its a good idea to ask him if he'll eat at our place. Now, no tair-saadam** swearing individual who's fresh off the Chennai boat would refuse such an enticing offer. Not that I hold any offence against tair-saadam. It happens to be my most important part of the meal in the day as well. I just meant it metaphorically here.

S took him to a real estate owner who was a neighbor in our building and he decided to help him find a few houses in the locality. Eventually S was dragged to all the houses by the gent because he could not speak hindi. This is another of the defense mechanisms adopted by most people. They cant accept the fact that they don't understand hindi. They cover it up by saying they are pundits in Sanskrit, they have learnt hindi in school for good 7-8 years, they can write poetry in hindi but the only hitch in life is that they cant speak Hindi.
*So what dude..! Don't you know English?*
But anyway, he saw a few houses and got back home for lunch and had few cribs that the houses were far away from his place of work.
*Since when 6 km, to work-place, is considered 'faraway' in a place like Mumbai?? *

Post lunch he started exploring some more houses with renewed vigor, expecting the estate agent will block a few houses for him until he got back to him in a couple of weeks. He was most distressed that this was not the practice here.
*I wonder which land of Eden he came from.*

Just when one saw some promising ray of hope on finalizing a house, the gent comes up with googly questions to the estate agent on Vaastu and stuff. Which direction does the window of the kitchen face, which direction does the bathroom door face, what does the house number total up to? He rejected all the houses based on one such criteria or the other. Finding a house to one's liking at reasonable rates is a blessing in Mumbai and someone squandering such opportunities for reasons as this is totally appalling. He finally decided to take a house (which totaled up to number 6) without even looking at the house let alone checking for the basic necessities, like water supply, clean surroundings etc.
*So much for wasting nearly 4 hours on him.*

When time came to pay up a token amount for blocking the lucky 6 house, the gent sheepishly confessed to S that he had only 100 bucks in his purse and requested S to lend him 2000 bucks. I mean hats off to this chap! He comes home, he gets us do all the work, he gets a free sumptuous lunch, he rejects all good houses for a stupid vaastu number and he finds an accommodation within 6 km radius of his workplace - All with just Rs. 100 in his pocket.

Maybe he's not so 'paavam' after all. :-)
* Humming the Raj Kapoor song "Around the world in 8 dollars" distorted as "Around Mumbai in 100 bucks" as I write this.*

For the linguistically challenged:
* Paavam = piteous, bechara (in hindi)
** tair-saadam = curd-rice

Distant memories

2005-04-06T14:00:00.000+05:30

Its so cool to have mum visiting you after your marriage. Felt like I was seeing her after an eon. The entire weekend, spent with her, was bliss.

I led an independent existence for nearly 4 years. Answerable to none but myself. I enjoyed my freedom. Time was never a priority. I slept late, woke up late, worked late, partied late. (Oh well, I am not particularly the disc-hopping kinds but do enjoy going out with close friends for a movie, dinner, drink etc). Cooking, cleaning, washing and such sundry activities were low priority. I cooked when I felt like it, ordered pizza at other occasions or just survived on Maggie, the staple food of the alone-and-single. And when urge for mummy-ke-haath-ka-khana got too unbearable, it was time to say hello to the few relatives to kinda lessen their cribs that I never visited them. That's when I use all my earned-with-experience charm and say coyly "I'll get there by lunch and be there the whole day and will leave well after dinner". Inviting some other homefood-starved friends is an added bonus. In effect, they are happy and my stomach is happier.:-)

Cleaning, washing etc was a mandatory activity for the weekend. Me and my best-friend-and-room-mate M took every effort to make the small, little, matchbox-like apartment look like a home. Needless to say, we were quite popular hosts. We had a TV, a computer, a huge SONY music system, a bean bag, a keyboard, a violin, a nice straw carpet, a painting, embroidered cushions and bedsheets and nice complimenting curtains. Not to mention a fridge and a spacious kitchen. I liked our home. Almost a setting for a mehfil when some melodious friends dropped in. Had enough space to shelter 7-8 people at a time. And when mum came visiting, all meals were strictly at home.

Also, M was a wonderful driver and drove a Bajaj Super with exceptional ease. (Though I was the official kick-starter if the vehicle stopped abruptly at a signal or something). So maneuvering through the busy roads of Bombay was never a problem. We did trips to Churchgate, Esselworld, Manori Islands, Thane and other far flung areas on the two wheeler with relative ease though it used to be taxing on our backs. We knew every decent, hidden, unknown, expensive, cheap, pretentious and obnoxious eateries around the suburbs, small or big. Right from a small kabab restaurant in Andheri which served excellent okra manchurian to an unassuming south Indian joint in Matunga which served lunch on banana leaves complete with avial and rasam (Yumm!) to a small bakery in Malad which served delectable pasta for as low as 60 bucks to this Thai restaurant in Bandra which conned people by charging 70 bucks for a bottle of Aquafina mineral water.

We also were abreast with all the latest movies and plays. Have managed to gatecrash into numerous housefull plays at Prithvi by hoping for last minute cancellations. In fact, most of the plays, watched, were thanks to these 'bikau' tickets. Managed to bump into the likes of Gulzar and Naseeruddin Shah. Also, managed vain attempts to get a glimpse of Shah Rukh Khan at his bungalow in Bandra.

Have done enough footloose weekend trips to places like Munnar, Goa, Daman, Khandala, Matheran, Dandeli, Mahableshwar and many other exotic locations near Mumbai. Got conned, traveled in rickety buses, stayed in cheap hotels, got thrown out of hotels (in trivandrum), gotten high on wine (in Daman), did adventure sports like paragliding and white-water rafting (in Goa and Dandeli), watched Malayalam movies without understanding a word just to spend 3 hours in an AC theater (in sultry Trivandrum), wore the most expensive sarees for dinner at Dosa Diner and such, rode the victoria horse-carriage at Nariman point at 3 am, called in ill at work and watched morning shows at Fame ad-labs on week-days. I could go on like this... :-)

After marriage, things have changed, rather mellowed-down would be a safe word. Movies and plays do continue but not at the same frequency (attributed to the spate of depressing movies like MDBaby hitting the theaters), fancyfree trips have almost reduced to null (people say I agitate the delicate equilibrium of nature when I go on trips now. For some reason I think they mean the tsunami..;-) ), no mehfils, no two-wheeler trips. Of course thats replaced by a four-wheeler which is equally fun provided I get a little more experienced. Life is more about what to cook for the next meal, what household shopping needs to be done his week, what bills are pending and so on. Life is also about home food (thankfully..!!). Mummy-ke-haath-ka-khana is replaced by MIL-ke-haath-ka-khana which my stomach doesn't see a need to complain. Life is also about a lot of social visits, meeting new people and friends. I guess married life is a different adventure. :-)

Mum came visiting and one cant help but wonder nothing has changed on that front. The family stories, the funny incidents, the gossips, movies, experiences and much more are all in abundance and evoke the same excitement, fun, sorrow, happiness as it did before. I guess some things in life will never change and I am glad this is one of them.

Saturday night in Corporate 'light'

2005-03-29T08:42:00.000+05:30

I had the most enlightening Saturday evening in enchanting company to start with and a depressing movie to end with. Some friends of S (my husband) decided to meet up for dinner and a movie. Since I am a newly wed and all, I was expecting myself to be the center of attraction. I guess I would let you decide that over the course of the day and its happenings.

All these friends were the IIM graduate types. I have heard a great deal about MBA communique and admittedly, I got quite a solid dose of it. It started off with a brief round of introduction. Soon after, the discussion veered towards more 'exciting' topics like VAT and its consequences. Almost seemed like I was moderating a group discussion. Well.. I am quite aware about VAT and stuff but its certainly not something I would be found discussing passionately about and that too when I am meeting some friends after maybe 3-4 years. Soon, my existence dissolved in the animated quotes from Liar's Poker and jokes of the 'corporate' world.
*Get a life, dudes!*

After some 20 mins of fervent exchange of cerebral thoughts, one of them finally realized I was around and not quite contributing to their conversation. I was asked some routine questions about where I work and how far my office was, why I was still with the same X company for 4 years. And some reminisced how none bothered attending X company's pre-placement talks during their campus placements.
*Now, how considerate!*

The discussion shifted to who from the class of 2000 is doing what and where. I did not know ABC from XYZ in the names and companies being mentioned. But was kinda hoping some juicy college gossips and some hidden skeletons of S will be out.. ;-)
But their idea of gossip was how one guy messed up his case study and how S's aquarium always had fishes with low mortality rate. Ok now that's news (haven't heard too many people owning an aquarium in a hostel) but certainly not a hidden skeleton. Soon the discussion got too cryptic for my apprehending abilities with liberal use of terminologies like strategy, marketing, acquisition, merger, equity and the likes. After what seemed like a lifetime, someone hit upon the idea of getting out of the house and watching a movie.
*Bless her*

Hit Lokhandwala and dined at a poshish restaurant. Its definitely good to be in company of the rich and famous on some occasions as this. Realised I was quite famished despite all the 'food for thought'. :-)
The jargon diarrhea continued undeterred throughout dinner. And at the end of it all, one of them remembers my presence again and tells me that they are very well behaved today because they are meeting me for the first time.
*!!*

Watched Million Dollar Baby. I thought the movie was very depressing and over-hyped (I don't know if it was the movie or the day or the drink). But, great performances by all. All in all, an enlightening evening in the company of the distinguished and the brightest, a nice dinner (but not enough to sustain my hunger pangs again at 2:30 am) and an Oscar winning movie. Feel like an elite pseud now..:-)

Its just another manic Monday...

2005-03-21T18:24:00.000+05:30

I was going through a string of thoughts today while getting to work. It started with how bored I am at work and ended at the same thought again. Manic mondays are always that and today is no exception. I was hoping some dressing up better than usual (which essentially means, some make-up and junk jewellry) will do some sprucing up to my mundane day. But that did not seem to help much. While on the thoughts, I couldn't help noticing suddenly how hot the weather has become.

But there was a time when summer was a season of mixed feelings.

Summer was a time of exams. Though one ate, slept, breathed history, science, physics, maths and the ilk, it was also a time to build up an aura of sympathy around you.
Summer was a time when parents and relatives and friends parents and friend's friend's parents fussed over you, when there was no pressure to forcefully socialize at family gatherings, when we could watch any arbit serial on TV under the pretext of calling it a 'break' from studies [I guess my penchant for soaps started there.. Its different that Ms. Ekta Kapoor would probably have been writing boards then.. :-)].
Summer was a time for whiling away during the 2 month vacation, evening walks with friends discussing each others' crushes, playing spider solitaire/freecell all day, sleeping all through the hot day without a care in the world.
Summer was a time for yummy recipes Mum used to dish out and lots and lots of ice cream.
Summer was a time for renewing the next-door book library membership. So what if it took a lifetime to filter out the better ones from the Mills and Boon varieties?
Summer was a time for spending all morning solving the crossword.
Summer was a time for out-station trips - Beautiful beaches of Goa or scenic Manali to sultry, water-deficit Chennai.
Summer was a time for nice comfortable shorts and t-shirt, cottony salwar-kameez, white chikan suit and khadis.
Summer was a time to be pampered by grandparents and relatives.
Summer was a time not to worry about a job.*sigh*
Summer was a time not to worry about joblessness.*groan*

How I wish the same carefree summers came back. How boring is work life..!

The stellar vehicle..

2005-03-17T18:33:00.000+05:30

Two weeks ago, our vehicle arrived. It was parked in my husband's office for a while, almost a week actually. Firstly, its arrival to his office slipped by 4 days from its planned day of arrival and its arrival home slipped by another 6. In effect, the 10 km journey from Santa Cruz to Andheri along the western express highway took 10 whole days. (This is blog of a techie, so numbers and jargons come naturally to me)..:-)

Before you think we bought a bullock cart or something, I must clarify that the vehicle is one of the swanky, state-of-the-art, gizmo varieties and belongs to the so-called A grade cars with all the hi-tech stuff like power steering/windows, power suspension designed for Indian roads, advanced e-Tec engine and all the lingo most of which I don't understand.

It is a 2-year old Opel corsa bought from a GM of my husband's company who decided to find a new job and subsequently a new car. You know these hi-Fi GM types na. Hence the car was ready to be sold off (at a decent price to any employee of the company). My husband decided to buy it for reasons best known to him. I am not particularly fond of these Corsa, Ikon, Lancer, Esteem type cars. I think they are the most boring-looking cars ever designed. They all, first and foremost, look the same to me. I mean its really hard for me to just shoot one glance at a car speeding at 100 kmph on a highway and decide it was Honda City or Hyundai Accent or whatever else. I guess its totally a man's area of expertise to identify cars, just like they manage to identify what stupid cricket match highlights are telecast on ESPN - in which ground along with statistics like dd/mm/yy and hh:mm:ss, what would be the next shot of the batsman, which chewing gum is the bowler chewing and which umpire is going to scratch his head next or whatever. I guess, you got my drift..:-)

I like smaller cars because they are easier to handle, take less parking space (that's a secondary reason) and they give better mileage and blah blah. Power steering and all that jazz give me a headache because slight deviation of the steering wheel takes the vehicle totally out of course specially at higher speed and slight acceleration zooms the car at unimaginable speeds. But my secret love is and will always be for SUV's. They have such a magnanimous and commanding identity of their own on the roads. I cant help but gape at any such vehicle parked or on road in my vicinity.:-)

So back to my Corsa saga and its adventurous, slow journey home! It so happened that my parents-in-law were of the firm opinion that the vehicle must be bought on a 'so-called' auspicious day where all the favorable stars in the sky shone at the same position as the day you were born. ('You', here, refers to my husband). Its an 'astronomical' wonder to me how these astrologers and god-men come up with such accurate stuff that even NASA guys fail to with their hi-tech telescopes. So the GM guy, had to keep the car with him until 4 days after. On the 4th day, the driver of that GM left the car at my husband's office basement parking. The next task was to get the car home. My husband is a proxy driver with a driver's license. I was slightly better than a proxy. So it was decided that I bring the car home.

Now me, being the meticulous self and all that, declined any suggestions by my husband to get it home on a week-day. Peak traffic, night driving and the ilk were a strict no-no. I decided to bring it home on a Saturday morning before half the city (junta with half/full working day) woke up. That meant foregoing my most treasured weekend beauty sleep. But its better than wait until eternity for another cosmic alignment.

I was very jumpy at start trying to figure which were the gears and where the brakes were and where the indicators were etc. :-) But later, I was comfortable after I got on to the highway. The roads were moderately inhabited near the airport area but nothing alarming. Along the route, I encountered this fat lady who refused to budge from the middle of the road in spite of my loud honks. She finally got a slight hit on her fatter backside, more like a spank. Serves her right though. The car really got tested for all the suspension claims the ads make and I must admit it was a smooth ride over most potholes. I couldn't help enjoying the drive after that. Nonetheless, I decided that I need to polish my driving skills with a more seasoned driver next to me like a 'real driver' for a few months.

So the car sleeps yet again in the back of our apartment, waiting for yet another right stellar configuration when we find a chauffeur who works 6 days a week (maybe nights too considering our crazy working hours!), who waits on us patiently at shopping malls and busy temples (not me- my MIL), and also comes sasta-aur-tikau when it comes to salary. Its an arduous task to find one with such stringent CTQ's. Perhaps the ever-dependable, family astrologer can help here..!..:-)

Birthday Blues

2005-03-16T13:14:00.000+05:30

Last weekend, it was birthday of my friend S who recently shifted to Phoenix, Arizona. There was no way I could contact her except through email. Now, I am not particularly great with remembering dates. Well.. The reality is that I do remember birthdays and the ilk of close people. But I dont keep track of days in general and finally end up forgetting to wish the person on that day.

Now, with early alzheimers setting in(!), I forgot which day of March was her b'day. One day suddenly like lightning across the sky, it hit me that her birthday was around the corner or probably already past. Yikes..!! My reflexes immediately reached out to the mobile phone to call another friend A to check up. I got a reassurance from A that things are under control and her b'day was a week later. What a relief! Better to call and check than get into a crib session with S when I touch base with her on a later date. She would then crib and whine about me, her sister, the libran clan of the world, the neighbor, the roadside dog and whoever else she can think of for forgetting to wish her.

There are also some other more 'understanding' friends who'd patiently wait for me to call. Maybe set an internal deadline to see if I remember, after which, they'd call me and tell me that a milestone passed X days ago. And I'd go on a ritual guilt trip to which, they'd give a its-ok-we-know-how-abstracted-you-are type nod. Usual conversation goes this way.
Me: Hey girl..! Whats happening with you?
She: Doing great.. Had a great time last weekend.
Me: Oh? what was that about?
She: Well, it was the day I was born you know. But its ok, as usual, I did not expect you to remember.
*Aww crap!!*

The easiest are friends more like me. The types who dont remember that I forgot to wish them. I, then, breathe easy, maintain a sympathetic look on my face and tell them convincingly that I wished them at x hours y minutes of that day. With an expression like Utpal Dutt in Golmaal when he learns Ramprasad's mother and sister are twins too, they give me the benefit of doubt and save me from a guilt trip. :-)

Now coming back to S, since her bday was on a saturday, I mailed her on friday evening before calling it a week at work. And what do I see when I am back on Monday?!?
She thanked me but outright refused to believe that I remembered to wish on time without seeking external help. Now how did she know that..!!
Poor A, she had reminded me the date but she forgot to wish S on time. She wrote to S pronto on Monday. And as irony and destiny would have it, S cribbed that I must have helped her remember.
Well... life's truly like that..!!

Saas bhi kabhi bahu thi...

2005-03-15T12:32:00.000+05:30

Yesterday was a south-indian reply to karva-chauth festival and my first one at that. My MIL made it a mandate for me to get home from the office which is 15 kms away by 1:30. That is apparently "the" time when one month ends and the new one begins. And if I tie a yellow thread at that very moment and pray for my husband's long life and blah, I'll gain salvation. (Holy crap..! In retrospect thats quite a cool way to be sure to get a ticket to heaven!).:-)

Just when I have finished reading the morning newspaper, she breaks the news to me about the other terms and conditions about the festival which weren't as 'easy' as travelling back and forth 30 kms and spending 200 bucks for a yellow thread. I was supposed to be on a fast too. Now how unfair on someone who is supposedly known to be 'underweight' and on regular days fed up to the brim with a perpetual complaint that she doesn't eat enough. I was totally devastated on the prospect of starving. Well.. you know, I may not exactly look like the "khate-peete-ghar-ki-ladki" types but then I hate to stay hungry. And I admit I do get into one of those eccentric moods then, ready to lash out on anything that comes my way - living or non-living. As though reading my mind (says who that MIL and DIL do not share a telepathic connection), my MIL promptly called one of her friends and had a hurried whispered conversation. At the end of it, she reached a consensus that I can have roti and sabji. I jumped at the idea and got into the kitchen before she changed her mind..:-)

Since I had gastronomical interests to take care of, I decided to get to my workplace after witnessing the 'divine' intervention of the new month. I quickly got a couple of potatoes to boil and made a quick aloo-methi ki sabji and kneaded the dough for roti. When something as auspicious as this was to happen, how could I be walking around the place in a sleeveless salwar kameez? I was promptly asked to change into a 9 yards saree. Yikes!! After much-required help from my MIL, I managed to drape myself into one and did some parrot-like activities, repeated whatever she asked me to say/do in front of the so-many-idols-of-dieties which occupy nearly 1/3rd of the kitchen (Talk about space constraints in Mumbai!!)...Soon after, I was asked to tie the yellow thread around my neck and pray for the longevity of my husband's life. I was also permitted to eat some prasad made for the occasion (Thank God for small mercies)..:-)
I quickly made a beeline to change into my salwar-kameez again, had the aloo-methi and roti which for some reason tasted the yummiest. And made sure I got to work by 3pm.

Every now and then, my thoughts drifted towards food. Having scandalizing thoughts like how does my starving make any difference to my husband's life? Or for that matter me attaining salvation? Why is it that the wife bears hardships like suffer pangs of hunger while the husband eats what he likes? Why is there there no such tribute that a husband does for a wife? why why why... ? I could go on forever on this one but will save it for another time and another day. Anyways, I got home at 11 PM and was more than glad to see food laid out for me on the table. So what if it is still the same aloo-methi and roti which no one ate? It still tasted the best. Talking of no one eating it, I realised my MIL has been on fast too and she hasnt eaten half as much as me. I felt an instant sense of sympathy for her though I dont think she minds going on hunger trips every now and then on pretext of one pooja or other. But at the end of the day, I know she cares and I care too. After all Saas bhi kabhi bahu thi....!

My rendezvous with tsunami

2005-02-18T05:36:00.000+05:30

I have been meaning to put up my experiences in Andaman for a long while now. Had everything on paper but finally got around converting it insto electronic mode.

The trip, as everyone might have assumed, was an eventful one for us. But leaves back a very solemn feeling that all the beauty, that we fathomed, is lost and it might take a long time for Andaman to regain its hard-earned glory. Unfortunately, for most people, the thought process is why on earth would any honeymoon couple want to spend time in island of “kalapani”. And now there is a tsunami to strengthen their argument.

But Andaman experience was incredible. It was a two hour-long flight to Port Blair. The flight from Chennai was at an insane hour at 6:30 in the morning. The getting-up-early bit was a bit of a pain. But I made up for it in the 2.5 hour flight.:-)

We landed at about 9:00 am at Port Blair on 15 Dec 2004. It was a cute airport in the middle of nowhere with no enclosures. One could actually stand on the road and watch the flights land and take off or probably walk up to the runway without a problem.:-)
We had one gentleman from New India Assurance, thanks to Muthu chitappa, who took care of our travel within Port Blair. We had a chauffeur driven car through our stay to take us around within Port Blair.

We got to our Eco Resort, Palm grove Hotel. We had a room at the treetop. A shack-like suite made of wood and bamboo. At that point of time, wooden room seemed cute and different. Later, it proved to be a savior.

We relaxed in the hotel for a bit and in the late afternoon, took off on a harbor cruise for about couple of hours from Water Sports complex (which, I am not sure, exists anymore after the tsunami). Covered a small island called Viper island. This island, contrary to its name, had no vipers. Was named after a, then, governor-general Viper. The island had nothing but a pathway, which led to the gallows constructed during the British Raj.

After the cruise which got over at 6, we made it just in time for a sound and light show in the cellular jail – the very famous KalaPani that all still remember and frown upon about Andaman. Was a good show actually giving a very graphic portrayal of the atrocities induced on the prisoners by the British as seen by a fig tree which overlooks the courtyard of the jail.

Day 2 seemed to be one of the best days in the island. We were taken to North Bay Island. The place was known for colorful coral reefs and marine life. Better still, there was lot of snorkeling to do. We were first dropped on the beach in a smaller dinghy that had a transparent base so that we could see the coral reefs. Upon reaching the shore, we changed into swimming gears and got into the sea with the snorkeling equipments.
We snorkeled for more than an hour deep into the sea. Of course, there was a lifeguard who accompanied us. It was the most beautiful, incredible experience. Aqua-shows in National Geographic came as poor second. We swam over coral reefs of various sizes and shapes and colors- finger corals, cup corals, tiger fishes, anemones and other colorful fishes. My most memorable experience thus far. We spent almost all day at North Bay swimming and snorkeling. In the evening, we made it to yet another beach called Chidiya Tapu, which was known for sunset. Ideal place for S and his penchant for “winged” birds. :-)
But unfortunately, it was too late to be doing any birding as it was nearing darkness. We decided to come back another day for that.

Days seemed to pass rather fast there.Daybreak happens at around 5:00 AM and by 5 - 5:30PM its pitch dark. Day 3 started early with Port Blair Darshan. Went to the zoo first. Astonishing fact about Andaman and Nicobar islands is that there are no terrestrial predators in the islands, only wide variety of birds and raptors. We explored the cellular jail again during the day this time. Only 3 of the 7 wings remain intact and open to visitors. The others were damaged during the Japanese attack during World War II.
We visited the anthropological museum, which depicted the habits and habitats of Mongoloid and Afro tribes in Andaman. Not sure how many are extinct and how many survived the tsunami disaster though.

After the city tour, we took a ferry to Jungle Ghat harbor to get to Mt. Harriet National Park. Jungle Ghat harbor pictures, in the tsunami edition of India Today magazine, was totally broken and submerged. Anyways, Harriet was full of birds. I was pretty much a novice and hardly noticed any bird unless S spotted them and showed them to me. But the trek into the jungle was awesome and the food in the jungle rest house in Mt Harriet was even more awesome. We then got to Corbyn’s Cove beach in the evening for sunset. It was the nearest beach to our hotel, about 2.5 km.

Day 4 was an early day. Had to leave for Mahatma Gandhi Marine National Park at 7-7:30. By now, I was getting used to getting up early and sleeping early. Temporary phase I told myself.:-)
The island was called Jollybuoy. The corals and marine life was as good but unfortunately there was no snorkeling, which was a slight letdown. Apparently, there used to be lot of snorkeling happening before but now stalled because tourists ended up stepping on the reefs and killing them. Evening, met up a friend Ashok from Delhi for dinner.

Day 5 and 6 were dedicated to Havelock Island. Was a slight unplanned trip but was good all the same. We assumed that we were booked to travel by the 7:30 ship to Havelock, which was a 4-hour sail. But that was not the case. We ended up taking the next ship at 2:00.
So we made another trip to Chidiya Tapu in the morning and did a lot of birding. Rather S did and I merely tagged along.:-)
Even saw a rare coucal, which was never spotted in Andaman before. We managed to board the 2:00 ship and reached Havelock after 4 hours and it was pitch dark by the time we found accommodation. The sail through the sea was most enchanting towards sunset. The changing colors of the twilight sky from blue to shades of red and orange were most breathtaking. Near our resort, there was a Goan style, shack-like, hep hotel nearby called “Wild orchid” , where we stopped for a beer. Decided to come back there for a continental breakfast the next day. Much of day 5 was wasted in traveling. Went to sleep hoping day 6 was much better. Havelock is a total Bong (Bengali) settlement.
Day 6 started with an exquisite, king-size continental breakfast with eggs, fruit salad, coconut water, fried potatoes (in mustard oil!!, thanks to the bong legacy) and tea. That made my day nonetheless.:-)
Coconut water is something I must talk about in Andaman. It is a meal in itself. One tender coconut can serve up to 4 full glasses of coconut water easily and you get them in abundance at amazingly cheap prices. Made it a mandate to have at least one everyday as long as I was there.:-)
We set out for Elephant Bay beach soon after. It was a 2 km trek to the beach through a dense forest. Needless to say, birding happened despite my attempts to stifle squeals on spotting lizards and chameleons running past along the trail in the dense forest. The beach was total bliss. Absolutely isolated with just a handful of 'firangs' sunbathing and snorkeling. S did a bit of snorkeling while I decided to relax at the shore. The corals were at shallow levels and one did not really need equipments to see them. We had already checked out of the resort before hitting elephant bay not knowing where we’d stay the following night. Was slightly troubled by the ‘on-the-streets’ situation we were in because we got accommodation in a tent resort only around 6 in the evening. In retrospect, I think it was a good time after all. The tent was on the shores of RadhaNagar Beach, which was apparently one of the best hidden-beaches of Asia. Clear blue water and white sand made us forget our ‘homelessness’ for a while. :-)
I was a little concerned about mosquitoes in the tent but did not have too much trouble. We tried some exotic Israeli food for dinner. I don’t even know if it was authentic Israeli food. It was called "Sabiq". Consisted of boiled eggs, fried brinjals (!), fried potatoes, humus and pita bread. Brinjal was a put-off so ordered the ever-dependable pasta for myself. Was not bad at all actually.:-)
I don’t know how the island survived the tsunami. But some day I would like to go back to Havelock, hire a two-wheeler and explore the island again.

Day 7 was again a heavy continental breakfast day at Jungle resort. And by 9:30, we checked out and sailed to Rangat. Was a 3-hour ship journey. The plan was to get to Mayabunder from there. Rangat is like a junction to all the important places by road in Andaman Islands. Mayabunder was in the northern tip of Middle Andaman and promised some deserted islands and beaches. It was a bumpy 3-4 hour bus ride from Rangat to Mayabunder. But it was a fascinating route through creeks and dense tropical rain forest. Here onwards, we were, in true sense, on a backpack trip. Everything from places to visit to accommodation to food was to be investigated and checked out on the spot. We, surprisingly, got accommodation in an APWD guesthouse, which had the most awesome view of the sea. It was total bliss to spend evenings watching the sea from the balcony of our room. Food was great, very home-like. Next morning on Day 8 we decided to check Avis Island, which was known to be an isolated island, was about 30 min in a dinghy from Mayabunder. It was just S and I and another couple with a child and the whole island to us. :-)
Avis Island was beautiful with corals all washed away at the shore. Even at waist deep water level, we could see the reefs. There was absolutely no need for snorkeling equipments. We walked along the shore collecting dead corals, swam about in the blue waters careful enough not to step on the corals below. Spent nearly until late afternoon in the island and got back for a nice, piping hot lunch. Spent the evening exploring the market of Mayabunder.

Day 9 was a bright sunny morning again. We decided to check out the Karmatang Beach/Eco Park in the morning before we left for Diglipur in the afternoon. It was a fascinating beach. Totally isolated and full of endemic birds and lush greenery. S spent most of the time birding while I tagged along very watchfully wary of the snake holes on the ground. I wanted to get out of there as soon as I figured that they were that. So I got back into the beach while S continued his birding undeterred.
Getting to Diglipur, situated in North Andaman, was again a 4-hour rickety bus ride along the winding Andaman trunk road through the lush rain forest. It was near darkness by the time we got there. Got accommodation again, just for a night though, at the APWD guest house of Diglipur.

Day 10, we checked out of the guesthouse. With our backpacks, we headed towards Ross and Smith Island. Visit to this isolated island required a permit from the Forest Range officer. Did not seem very difficult to get it though. Ross and Smith was the best beach I had seen in the whole of my trip and in my lifetime thus far. Ross and Smith are two different islands, which separate during high tide and join during low tide. When we got there, the tide was low, so we could walk up and back from one island to the other. White sand with palm trees along the shore and sea with different shades of blue, I had not seen anywhere else. The farthest end was navy blue, then turquoise, near the shore it was greenish blue and on the shore it was white. All colors blended like a dream. There were hammocks and tree houses amongst the palm trees so it was fun to relax and read a book. But the pleasure moments did not last too long. S spotted a viper in a small, unused boat trying to attack a small bird trapped in the boat. So had to move from that spot. We then walked along the beach on the other side of the island and were surprised the water had receded beyond the rocks totally exposing live corals along the beach. We also saw turtle footprints on the sand. December to Feb is the turtle nesting period. They all come in large numbers at night, lay eggs deep into the sand and swim off in the mornings. We got back to Diglipur at about 4:00 pm and had yet another problem to tackle, accommodation for the night. We had no choice but to stay in a lodge close to the bus stand, since we had a bus to catch at 5:00 am the next day to get to Baratang.

Day10 started early as expected to start a long ride back to Middle Andaman to get to Baratang Island. We had planned to stay a night here since there were some interesting things to do there. First being the mud volcano. Other places of interest were limestone caves about ½ hour from Baratang and Parrot hill in an island close to Baratang. To get to Baratang, we needed to cross the sea and we were just about discussing that Andaman had no bridges across islands. Suddenly we found answers to our questions. Our bus was comfortably packed into a huge boat and taken across to the island. :-)
On reaching Baratang, we figured that there was no accommodation available at all. The only mode of transport was the bus and the last bus to Port Blair was at 3:00PM. But we at least managed to see the Mud Volcano. Seen only in two other places in the world- Wyoming, US and Baku, Russia, a mud volcano is a cone of mud and clay and there is bubbling up to a few centimeters due to rise of volcanic gases. After the tsunami, the volcano, apparently, erupted up to 3 meters and there was generation of lot of heat though there was not too much cause of concern.
Was fretting towards return as to why should a 2 hour journey to Port Blair be done by 3PM. Later we figured that this was because we had to pass through the Jarawa habitat to get to Port Blair. Jarawas are one of the afro-tribes inhabiting the western coast of Middle Andaman. They are generally considered a hostile tribe. We, in fact, had an armed guard who traveled in our bus until the Jarawa stretch ended. Unfortunately, we did not get to see any tribal through the stretch. However, the Palm grove hotel owner, in one of the conversations, was saying that some junior Jarawa tribals are more friendly and spoilt. Many officials, vehicle drivers etc, along the Andaman Trunk Road, have made them addicted to chewing paan, tobacco etc, so much that the tribes agree fetch bottles of rich pure honey, resin worth 100’s of rupees in exchange for a paan.
Anyways it was Christmas day and we reached our hotel in Port Blair on time at about 7:30-8 and relaxed without any inkling on what was in store the next day.

Thus ended our backpack trip. Was reminiscing our days thus far and couldnt help reflecting the variety of things that we managed to do. Staying in treetop to lodges and tents, traveling in chauffeur driven cars to hitching rickety bus rides, eating in five star hotels to surviving on Krackjack biscuits, we had done it all. In retrospect, it was not just a relaxing honeymoon trip but enough of an adventure trip as well. And the main adventure was yet to come!!

Day 11- 26th Dec 2004- I woke up in the morning to see the whole room rocking away. Though it was milder at first, I was able to figure that this was an earthquake. I woke S and started to tell him and suddenly the rocking took a more violent shape. It shook really badly for nearly 90 sec. There was total chaos in the hotel as well. There was a fishpond outside our room where I had seen only dormant, stagnant water. When I stepped out of the room, the water in the pond was jolting up and down in waves. I guess this, on a mass scale, is what tsunami was all about. Almost immediately after the quake, electricity was cut off. At that point of time, we had not anticipated the intensity of the quake though we had a few locals abandoning their homes and taking refuge in our earthquake friendly hotel. Some guests who were scheduled to visit Havelock Island returned back because ships were cancelled.

We all got along with our regular chores, planning for the day whether to relax or visit Mt. Harriet for a longer trek. But the whole day there were some or other threats and tremors so we decided to give it a slip and go birding alongside Corbyn’s cove beach. We started walking towards the beach when some people along the road warned us of another earthquake about to happen in some time. So we headed back disappointed and were on forced arrest. With no electricity or telephone we were cut off. Only in the afternoon when S’s uncle called from Chennai, we figured this was a major quake and there is a likelihood of many casualties. Then appa called. Though there were lots of reports on Chennai’s devastation and other places around the Tamil Nadu coast, there were no reports from Andaman. The islands were totally cut off from the mainland for more than 24 hours. We heard from local people about water flooding the entire main market area of Andaman (Aberdeen Bazaar) and some people being reported injured or missing. And by late afternoon, all the water had receded from the bazaar and life seemed normal. Even in the evening news on radio, we only kept hearing about the damages in Chennai and adjoining areas. But casualties in Andaman/Nicobar were reported to be only about 15. All we did the whole day was relax and read a book or listen to the radio for more news. In the evening, we went to Corbyn’s Cove beach but the tide seemed regular. We could see at the farthest end, the ships sailing to Chennai and Calcutta. We saw a Japanese bunker at the beach and took a few photographs.

It was Day 12 when we actually got to know the intensity of the damage. Number of deaths in Andaman leapt into thousands and causing alarm for everyone there. We did not feel any different except that there were very slight tremors every now and then and life without electricity, telephone and water was turning out to be slightly difficult. We, nonetheless, checked out of Palm Grove Hotel and made our way to the airport to see if we are able to leave for Chennai in any of the rescue planes, which were supposed to run from that day. Airport was a total mess. Looked like Churchgate Station at rush hour. Women pacifying their wailing children, some men screaming at the airport officials for not running more flights. Most people refused to return to their hotels for fear of another quake or tidal wave. They were all standing at the terminal waiting for their turn to leave. Runway of Port Blair was damaged and so only smaller flights were running. Some Jet airways pilots refused to land in Port Blair because they feared that tremors could de-stabilize the landing flights so one of the flights got cancelled and that was enough to get the the whole juntato go on Dharna. There was total pandemonium.
The government was doing their best by supplying food, biscuits, water etc periodically to the tourists. Also, the neighboring hotels and restaurants supplied food stuff like khichdi etc. And still there was mad rush with people pouncing on one another to get one bottle of Bisleri water, which was anyways available in shops outside the premises of the airport. Strange is the human psychology. Perhaps, crisis and helplessness makes the sanest person irrational. Maybe I did not experience as much devastation as much as they did to reason out their behavior. I don’t know. But, there was no danger per se other than wait for your turn to get into the plane. There were 2 flights of Jet Airways and 2 IA flights to Chennai and at least double that to Calcutta. There were also rescue planes landing with bodies from Nicobar. There was a school near the airport and all the bodies were being burnt there in the playground. Air base at Nicobar was washed out. Nicobar must have lost nearly 75% of its population. But life in Port Blair was getting back to normal. One of the taxi guys had his entire family in Nicobar. When we asked him if he was able to establish contact with his people, he just gave a shrug and said, “ Hum kya kar sakte hain, sahib? Agar zinda honge tho aa jayenge”. I was dismayed as well as intrigued at the driver’s attitude. Whatever he said or didn’t say did leave a profound awakening. Calamity has struck, lives have gone, and nearest and dearest are dead. But then, life moves on…

We did not make it that day. And after 8 hours of wait at the airport the next day, we finally made it into the 4:00PM flight back to mainland with a feeling of remorse of being one of the last to perceive the beauty of Andaman suffering under the fury of Mother nature and also with a hope of visiting Andaman sometime again in future. Hopefully soon…