Reflections

My Sins Against Gender Stereotypes.

2010-07-02T05:35:00.000-07:00

IHM tagged me and this is the one tag which has became a cult of sorts..and if I don't join in I will be a minority and who wants to be that in this blog world. So here I plunge in, into the sinful world of gender stereotypes and tell you the ten different sins I have committed in the 'she' world.

Here are my ten:

My earliest memories of time spent with my father is of us playing cricket with a cousin brother. And I was good at it.
Amma used to call us (me and my sister) her two boys, as all the banking, bills and all errands of the house was taken care by us both. The fact that there were no guys at home helped.
I have been to the police station twice, to complain about a theft in our house and once got furious with the policemen for not taking sufficient interest in our case.
We both (my sister and me) had to constantly travel from home to work place and always got back late. My mother was quite nervous but we both managed well, travelling in trains and then autos to reach home by 9pm, to be with our mother and then leave early at 6am the next morning.
I have loads of men friends as I have women friends and love talking politics and debating issues.
I love buying things but cannot spend time over shopping.
I love books and love cars and driving. Have done a couple (or more) of test drives.
I am not frightened of creatures, cockroaches, lizards etc. But I love animals, dogs are a weakness.
I hate chocolates.
I love beer.

But having said that, I still cry over movies, emotional scenes, when my kids do well and almost any silly matter and I love cooking, I can embroider, am not good at mechanics...
So I cannot be called a full-fledged sinner but an aspiring one!

For the uninitiated and there must be none for sure, the tag is called ‘My Sins against Gender-Stereotypes’. And you must tag twelve blogging friends or else you will be cursed to wear blue clothes pants if you are a woman and pink shirts if you are a man – for next twelve years.
And I am cursed as all the blogger friends I know have been tagged already.
So see me in blue pants from tomorrow, Yippee!

Can the cane

2010-07-01T01:02:00.000-07:00

A cousin was talking about how a couple in Canada lost the custody of their two teenagers, when it was found that one of the two kids had a small wound on her leg, supposedly from a scissor that fell down. The scissor wound was not inflicted by the parents but the school suspected the parents, because of a callous comment the kid made, which was something to this effect, “my mother will kill me; if she knew that I had played with the scissor, so I did not tell her”. A casual comment which set the school into action and the kids are now with foster parents. Shocking and sad, you would say.
That was in Canada.

Picture this scene, in India, where the parents complained about the rising fees, and the students of Vishal Bharti School, Paschim Vihar, were made to sit on the floor of the school in the December winter.
Harsh punishment from the schools for revolting against their systems.
You can find more such ruthless acts here, all from authorities who are supposedly the caretakers of our children.

Shocked?

So what is the right way? What is the median?

Are we being far more lenient on our kids and reacting to absurd logics? Is corporal punishment the way to go? Where do we draw the line and be a guide to our kids, bring in the sense of responsibility, instil the right values, let them see the right and wrong with that occasional tap and a few raps on the hands and bottoms, more verbal (read loud) debates to emphasise a point? Or do we, as parents, just let them be, let them learn from mistakes, grope their way around in this bad world and learn the lesson the hard way?

No, I am not for corporal punishment. But having said that, I have had a few chalks thrown at me, a few raps with the scale, but these acts were never to victimise me. And never ever did it border on bullying.
So where do I draw the line? Where do we, as parents, get up and protest?

The school who sent the girls to foster parents said that there were other ways than caning to bring an erring kid to task.
Most counsellors are unanimous when they say a child must never be punished the first time they make a mistake. If the mistake is repeated, an alternative form of deterrent has to be found—from barring them from watching a favourite programme on television or not being allowed to play in the evening and in schools staying in after class or standing at the corner of the class.
Here is what a counselor, felt about it. She said that there is no knowing just how much is acceptable when it comes to corporal punishment.
She said: "There is no such thing as this much is enough. (Hitting a child once) could be enough to scar or hurt a child."
Having worked with youths aged between 11 and 17, who are often beyond parental control, she believes more in getting the children to reflect on their actions.
"Caning is not going to solve the problem. The more you cane, the more the child loses his/ her fear of it. The wounds eventually heal but the scar it has caused may not go away," she said.

I may not be the best mother around, nor am I a bad one though I still have loads to learn. I want them disciplined for sure, but will not tolerate any corporal punishment.
But when she is in the wrong, I want her disciplined, in a way that makes her aware of her wrong deed, not by inflicting wounds on her personality or her physical self.

(If my elder one sees this, she will remind me about the pinch I gave her earlier this week, when she was sitting engrossed in the World Cup match, completely forgetting her test the next day, even after five (note that, see repetitive) shrill reminders from me.
This also brings to mind what my younger told me, when I was scolding her (rather loudly) for her lack of attention while doing her homework. She told me quite seriously and encouragingly, “Amma, you shout very well, you should become a teacher. You can do it.”)

Feeling Hot, Hot, Hot

2010-06-24T01:03:00.000-07:00

No, I am not humming the sexy song...but describing the weather in Doha. I should add it is boiling hot...and we are sweltering in the heat.
The office Air conditioners give up their futile attempt of bringing down the inside temperature, by noon they go off dejectedly and we complain, curse and sweat...
With the outside temperatures hitting 50 degress and climbing, my mind wanders to the construction workers - if there are any outside. I hope the Government jurisdiction passed recently in Qatar on time schedules at construction sites are being strictly followed, for who can venture out into sites and touch boiling hot steel rods or even stand on them?
It is said that though the governments takes action against contractors, there are some scrupulous contractors who in their hurry to make extra bucks, disregard the warning and allow labourers to continue with their work in this unbearable condition. So guys in the blogosphere, keep your eyes open (those in the Middle East) and let’s keep our vigil against these money mongers and get them booked.
On another note, imagine the conditions of gardens and our poor plants, fighting hard to keep their heads up in this blazing fire...
My plants are all withering, I water them with cool water thrice a day, but I know I am waging a losing battle. My plants have lost the will to fight, but I will keep trying.
This is how my garden looked a week back,

And this is how it is now...

and these are the badly suffering ones...

I wish

2010-06-15T05:12:00.000-07:00

I WISH...
For a device that puts all my thoughts into words..
I was the tree outside my house, firm and strong against all adversities
I was the river photographed by my friend in the picture above, beautifully calm, safe in the cocoons’ of green to transport people in these valloms to their destination...giving but never expecting anything in return...
I had a job that gives me two weeks off for every month I work...
I never had to think of money (I am forced to now)
My kids were well behaved...and not the naughty cranky character they sometimes change into (read most times)
I could relive my REC days... I want to learn and read a lot more than I did then...I want to hang on to the friends of those times...
I could read one book everyday
I could go to one beautiful location every month
I could drive into the horizon in my Honda, with music playing...
And come back in time for N's school bus
I could sleep with them (my girls) on each of my arms
I could come up with brilliant ideas at work...ideas that translate into pots of money that can be distributed equally among all my colleagues...
I could blog about interesting topics on a daily basis
I had Swaram's positivity, Nancy's popularity, Vimmu's clever tongue, Smitha's range, Umm’s talent to decipher strong issues...
On the other hand, NO, I want to be me...with my few blogs...and I would rather read their's than wish mine to be similar to theirs
I want to keep wishing...but am sure I will lose the few readers I have...
So I stop writing but keep wishing...

P.S: The picture is courtsey a journalist friend, Bonnie James, who clicks for passion.

Two letters, One intent

2010-05-11T03:50:00.000-07:00

The younger ones's card

The younger ones' note inside

The elder ones' letter

I was given two letters of appreciation for Mother’s day from my two. The younger one was so excited about it she gave it to me a day before the real Mother’s day. The elder one was so ashamed of the whole business of thanking her mother, she gave it to me the next day and she gave it to me nonchalantly, saying, “The teacher wanted us to do it, it is so boring...”
The younger one made a big show of it and gave me a hug too with the note.
The elder one watched me, as I read the letter, from behind the book she was supposedly reading...
I knew K (my elder) meant each word she wrote (I also pointed out the grammatical mistakes she made in it and piqued her further)...while the younger one didn’t understand what it was all about...
But the intent of both were clear, though the ways completely different.
That evening, I called my mother; we talked about everything but Mother’s Day...
If I wished her she would have said,”Who believes in Mother’s Day, we are from the older institution.”
I think I belong to that same institution where we don’t believe in displaying our love or concern... just go about loving our mothers the way we have been doing each day, every moment in our life...
So though I didn’t wish my mother, I am sure she understood ....

IF

2010-05-09T05:18:00.000-07:00

This tag is so easy and fun...I picked it up from here...

If I were a month, I’d be May
If I were a day of the week, I’d be the Thursday, waiting for the weekend...
If I were a time of day, I’d be early morning
If I were a season, I’d be spring
If I were a planet, I’d be Earth
If I were a sea animal, I’d be a whale
If I were a direction, I’d be South...where my home town is
If I were a piece of furniture, I’d be a lounge (charukasera, for sure) by the bookshelf
If I were a liquid, I’d be wine
If I were a tree, I’d be the banyan tree near our temple
If I were a tool, I’d be the chisel
If I were an element (of what?), I’d be water
If I were a gemstone, I’d be a diamond.
If I were a musical instrument, I’d be a violin,
If I were a color, I’d be ocher.
If I were an emotion, I’d be love.
If I were a fruit, I’d be a jackfruit...
If I were a sound, I’d be the sound of rain...
If I were a car, I’d be a sports car
If I were food, I’d be a salad (healthy food, ha)
If I were a taste, I’d be spicy
If I were a scent, I’d be Poison
If I were a pair of shoes, I’d be baby shoes
And if I were a bird, I’d be a lovebird...

This one's for you

2010-05-02T13:26:00.000-07:00

What do you say to your partner after 15 years of being together?
That I appreciate you for understanding me much more than I understand myself...or thank you for the support, for being there when I am not, for trying to fill in my place at home when I am away on assignments...
Would it not be an insult to the word, Thank you, if it were to represent so many layers of gratitude?
Would it be hypocritical not to mention the fights, the arguments that helped strengthen the bond, would it be right to talk only of the few and sparing moments of love we have shared in this rush called life?
Would it be right to say that I expect this and a bit more in making this institution strong...
Or would it be just right to say, “I cannot think of a day without having you around in my life...”

Do you have a favourite?

2010-04-03T23:40:00.000-07:00

Last Thursday, we were at a beach party. The weather was bad, too windy to have an outdoor festivity but a few of us did brave the winds to try and enjoy ourselves...
There was good music playing but no one seemed to be listening, two grownups were trying to get more people to the dance floor. And then I heard this vaguely familiar voice, screaming into the microphone, “Come on all of you, come and dance with us...”
I looked around to find my younger one, standing confidently, close to the music system with the microphone in her hands and taking on the self-imposed role of the announcer for the evening.
She wasn’t dancing much but she did get more people to join in and then encouraged them with loud, “Come on move your body” and the louder, “Yes, yes, that’s the way” and some even embarrassing outbursts of, “See all of you, look at my father dancing...he is doing a good job”!
She even pounced on her elder sister, who was trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, embarrassed with her sister’s new flamboyant role.
“There is my sister, in orange T-shirt and blue earring. We always fight at home but she really dances well, K chechi come and join the dancing.”
K made a fast exit...
N also tried encouraging me to join in her new ‘role’.
She told me, “Amma, say something, no problem, you can talk what you do at office and home too.”
I was proud of course, but this set me thinking...why is my younger one confident and sure of herself while the elder, who is much more talented of the two, so shy.
Are we the reason, have I been too strict on her and a bit lenient on the younger?
Were our expectations from the elder one, much higher than for the younger? I know it was...
But it was also because we knew her potential, but did it have its negative effect?
I have read that it is perfectly natural to have favourites in the family. A psychiatrist is quoted in Gulf Times, saying, “It is perfectly normal for parents to favour one child or another at one time or another. It’s what they do with that favouritism that can create problems.”
We did not have favourites; we knew both their flaws and strengths and knew how different both were.
I know we devoted more time and attention to the elder for six years and later when the second one came into our life, the attention was divided...and it was done with conscious effort to make the elder one fit in.
Yes, there have been instances when I was strict on the elder since the younger one is so tuned to what the elder does. But have I played favourites?
There is this theory by another psychiatrist that answers most of my doubts, that says, “But even when parents vow to treat their children equally, they soon find that this is just not possible. Every child is different and parents must respond to their unique characteristics appropriately. You shouldn't react to a 3-year-old's tantrums in the same way as you would to a 13-year-old's. You can't deal with aggressive children in the same way as passive children. Even identical twins can't be treated identically. When it comes down to it, every child wants to feel like they're different, not clones of their siblings. The best parents can do is stay aware of any differential treatment they give and try to be as fair as possible.”
Do you go through these moments of soul searching? Do you have a favourite in the family? Or have you ever felt that your brother always got the best deals in the family?

Business Options?

2010-04-03T04:02:00.000-07:00

We are all aware of Halal food products but here comes something new...Halal sex products...
Welcome to the new age of innovative businesses! Now we also have a Muslim only online sex shop, created exclusively for those who have been deprived of pornographic sites, as it is against the Islamic religion.
Read all about it here...
I am amazed...constantly at how people find soutions to satisy needs...and have a justification to match it too!
Is this hypocrisy or a smart business option?
What do you say?

Issues Galore

2010-04-01T04:59:00.000-07:00

I have realised that I stop blogging when there is an issue that is bothering me. And last month there were umpteen issues.
There was a small niggling one at my work place, small now in retrospect but which saddened me no less. I clamped down on my emotions, and then after a few days of feeling bad, went about justifying to myself the reasons behind the troublesome incident. Now it is all behind me, but not before it taught me more on the complex human mind and the callousness of some. As I tell myself, I learn each day...from each experience.
Then there was this MF Hussain issue that was blown out of proportion by some...
I still maintain, he is an artist and has a free will to interpret what he wants in ways he wants. That he hurt the sentiment of some was unfortunate, that I think was foolish on his part too. When you live in a society you live according to some rules, even if you are a painter or his muse...
But to blow the issue out of proportion was unfortunate; it showed us in poor light, we who have always professed a religion that is based on tolerance and openness.
Like she says and like how Shobha De puts it very articulately, it is eventually our loss...
But there are still people who feel strongly about Hussain taking a Qatari citizenship. I put up this image below on Facebook and I had comments flowing in instantly ...and some mails that did affect my religious sentiments...

I believe that Hussain had the best deal of all, he is a free bird (well, almost and until he plays by the rules of the country he is the resident of now) he painted what he wanted to and when he felt restricted in his country he flew out for safety, he still dreams and professes of everlasting love for his country while he makes money from another...Attaboy!

My Sunny Days

2010-03-07T12:04:00.001-08:00

She was the one who gave me my first whiff of freedom. Light yet nimble we manoeuvred the roads of Trivandrum. She was my silver coloured Sunny , the first major purchase I made with my own money. Cousins advised me to buy a second hand, heavier, more powerful two wheeler but I was adamant, I wanted a new vehicle and I wanted to buy it with MY money. The choice was limited with my meagre salary, only the RS10,000 Sunny could be afforded. And hence in the year 1993, a year after I graduated, I bought my first vehicle.
After days of following the huge red coloured state transport bus, stopping when it stopped and waiting patiently while passengers got down and then again following it up to the Museum, where I had to take a 100 meter detour to my office, I learnt the ropes of riding my Sunny around town. We literally flew around, she was so tiny that we would hurl down the slopes, weave through traffic and park in the tinniest of gaps. I thought of her more as an accomplice than as a vehicle, she had an identity of her own, one that was so tuned to my likes and dislikes...
But manoeuvring the heights (and Trivandrum is a city with quite a few elevations in road pattern) was where she showed her stubborn side. I started coaxing her a few 100mts before the road climbed in elevation, gathered all the momentum she offered, but as if reinforcing the fact that Bajaj had built a 50cc scooter and not a supernatural powered one, she slowed down... embarrassing the life out of me. Others in bigger vehicles would sail past me and pass jeering comments. Not that it fazed me, I would row past (I had to use my two legs to see me through such situations), without giving them a second glance proudly astride my tiny carriage.
But I have to say this, even with her stubborn streak, she did not ever let me down, she never broke down when I was in a hurry nor did she stop in mid ride. Starting her, though, was always an issue and then she was invariably helping me, getting attention from good looking blokes around, so she did serve me quite well...
When I left my job to come to Kottayam she came with me and was used by my sister and we are to date known as the sisters in Sunny.

p.s:This is just a file pic from google image, my Sunny was more beautiful in silver...

We (Sunny and me) both were at the receiving end with a few jokes made especially for us, thanks to my (then) young cousins in Trivandrum.

Some of them are here for a few laughs:
1. SINDHU didn’t need to fill petrol in the Sunny, she just took it around the petrol station and its tank would fill with the whiffs of petrol.
2. SINDHU didn’t ride she rowed her Sunny.(This was true).
3. The person who opened her petrol tank was confused...he couldn't find the engine!
4. Sunny could travel miles, if she travelled behind a car with the fumes feeding it.

A Mythological trip

2010-03-01T10:59:00.000-08:00

This is a travel piece, a different one...
A bit long...but hopefully interesting to some...

A Mythological trip

Walking through the streets at Guruvayur is like walking through a busy market. Shops line both sides of bumpy uneven lanes and savvy marketing lads from shops overloaded with clay figurines of various Gods and Goddesses, beckon you to their wares.
If it weren't for the glaring loudspeakers playing devotional songs of Lord Krishna, (the deity at Guruvayur temple) you could even imagine that you were in one of Kerala'a shopping districts. It was for this very reason, that the name of this feisty town, some 29 km off Trichur, evoked memories of childhood pleasure trips.

Now, 20 years later, I walk through these streets, holding firmly on to my daughters' arms, and guide them through the labyrinths of mythology, but find them mesmerised not by the story of the Almighty but by the power of merchandise that pulls them away from my grasp to these shops and its wares.

"I want this," says my younger one, gesturing to the toy a gleaming shopkeeper (has chosen to entice her with.

"I will give discounts," remarks the cheeky guy.

I pull my girls away and appease them with a story instead, the story of how a poor hungry boy, while visiting the Guruvayur temple, steals the two bananas kept for the day's pooja (the daily holy ritual with offerings to the deity). The boy was so consumed by guilt that he returned one banana but could not resist eating the other. A priest nearby saw this incident and punished the boy and asked him to go around the sannidhi (the walkway for devotees around the deity) 100 times.

Though it is difficult getting the girls' full attention, the crime and the punishment involved in this simple act, soon make them all ears for the story. I pause to stoke their interest further.

We are nearing the temple now. The temple is located at the centre of the town, and the town is also called Guruvayur. The temple has four entrances on each side, called East Nada or North Nada, according to the direction the main door or the Nada faces. Running perpendicular to the walls of the temple is the main street and the shops are lined on both sides of these streets. So invariably, with the strategic location, anyone who had an intention of visiting the temple could do so only after passing through the shops.

We stand in the women’s section of a long queue that runs parallel to the walls of the temple. An old woman glances down affectionately at my younger one and pinches her cheeks and she lets out a loud wail in protest, embarrassing me in the process. The old woman hastens to make peace and massages the young one's cheeks, which is again resisted with louder wails. To quieten her, I go back to the story.

While the priest was watching, I blabber, the poor boy goes around the sanniddhi and the priest sees something that transfixed him.

Now both of them hang on my words, and implore, "Amma, go on, tell us fast."

As we inch forward in the serpentine queue towards the main Nada, I continue with the story.

Taking the first round, the priest sees the poor boy but as he starts the next round of the sannidhi he sees the Lord in the boy's place, in all his splendour. This was repeated on and on...

The priest finally asked the boy what was happening to which the Lord answered, "One of the fruit was given to me, hence half the punishment is mine."

The priest realised his folly and asked forgiveness for his inhuman deed.

We are close to the main door which is a bit small and narrow and barely just wide enough to squeeze in two people at the same time. With two parallel rows, it is probably the only uncomfortable moment in this whole process of worship .But the story had made such an impression on my young ones that both of them are eagerly waiting to have their first glimpse of Sri Guruvayurappan, all signs of discomposure notwithstanding.

I carry the younger one, tug the elder and push the person in front. That was the accepted method to get in, the deliberate push, the occasional nudge and a calculated pull to get ourselves safely ahead and off the closest body of arms and legs. Some of the men have also bared their torsos, gleaming with sweat in the humid day, but all are here with one puritan intent, to experience the slight but fulfilling glimpse of the Lord at the main entrance. A preview of sorts.

Suddenly there rises a chant which gathers fervour as the line inches close to the deity, "Krishna, Krishna, Unni Krishna (baby Krishna), Narayana, Narayana" .The sounds vary from tones of passionate devotion, intercepted by wails of desperation from some to off key vibrato. The atmosphere is charged. I can see my girls' going through the same emotions, their brows coming together in concentration as they mumble with me, the same chant that is echoing through the small passageway that leads to the deity.

At last as the chant gathers momentum, we find ourselves before the deity and I feel electrified and increasingly stupefied by the power of devotion that envelopes me. I find myself crying and look down in confusion to see my girls' praying quietly, the picture of innocence and yet with a trace of awareness, as if they finally understood what the story was all about. All this happens in a fraction of seconds, before we are pushed aside, giving way to the wave of devotees behind. The moment so brief, I am not sure it even existed, where it not for the tears that wash my face.

We move aside silently, and the moment disappears...we are brought down to earth, to material things around. All of us, devotees, seem to have an air of abundance about us, a happiness or a relief of sorts, as if relieved and pardoned of all the sins committed, having handed them over to the Gods to handle.

Legends say that the idol worshipped is more than 5000 years old through there are no historical records. The temple became popular through Melpathur Narayana Bhatathiri's Narayaneeyam, a poetic work of hymns describing the story and mischiefs of Lord Krishna.

The priests are everywhere and both the girls look at them with distaste. The temple is beautiful, with stone carvings on the sides depicting the other Gods of the Hindu mythology.

We go around the sannidhi and come out of the inner sanctorum to the outer part of the temple, where prayer groups and various men and women huddle around, chanting. The outer passage has a roof and supporting this roof are pillars, huge ones with 'apsaras' (Godesses) carved out in each of them, some holding diyas, lamps and others in various dancing poses.

Our senses have calmed and as we emerge back at the outer ring of shops, the girls seem less affected by the wares. I look at them amazed until N, the younger one, gestures to a doll, the same one that was offered to her by the shopkeeper. She looks at me enquiringly.

Relived, I buy it for her...her happy face reflecting mine, and we move away from the temple. This is comfort, this tangible emotion of desire, as opposed to the over whelming power of the unknown that we had experienced a few moments ago.

Pure Joy

2010-02-23T03:09:00.000-08:00

My daughter wants me to be a teacher. Since I refused quite firmly, she said,"Atleast come to school and talk to my teacher and other aunties after school."
Everyday a group of moms do this dilegently, picking and dropping their kids off at school. This group gathers together and talk while waiting for the classes to end for the day.
They even chat to the teacher occasionally and my younger one wants me to be a part of this group.
Now for me, this is just not possible...
Today morning, I promised her that I would come to get her from school. She was not very sure I would but when she saw me after school, waiting patiently with the group of moms, her happiness knew no bounds...
We came home and when I was going back to office, she came out with me and said formally, "Thank you so much for coming. I had a nice time at the party."
She must have got it all wrong but I understood instantly what she meant...

Two vadas and a chai

2010-02-17T03:59:00.000-08:00

I went to the Watches and Jewellery exhibition this time. This was one event I had never covered and was never comfortable attending!
There is no space for the lesser mortals here, the photographers and the journalists were like guests on a spree, looking at the luxury, gaping and gasping...
I felt that the air we breathed would be charged, it was so reeking of expensive perfumes that I was choking...and I even felt that the floor would open up and a model rise out and ask me, "Do you belong here?"
I passed through the pavilions and was horrified with what I saw...
Huge jewels hung precariously to flashy chains and was this art? It could only be called monstrous...
Well, there were good designs too but well, it was all well beyond what I could afford and so I hated everything there instantly...
But then the exhibition was all about being flashy and presumptuous, be it the jewels that were on display, the models who were romping about with a decidedly bored expression, or even visitors who came with their accomplices...
Finally the ordeal was over and on the way back I got talking to a person, someone who is here in the Gulf to make a living while his family is back at his hometown...
He told me matter-of-factly that people were exhibiting millions of riyals worth of jewellery and there seems to be buyers for that when back at work people talked about layoffs and a bonus-less, increment-less year ahead.
He said that what he earned was just enough to send home as education was getting costlier even at his hometown.
To me, this was not complaints of a depressed person, but it was just a happy positive expat hoping that life would be simple and not as complicated as it seemed to him now...
Here was someone who was not at all impressed with the glitter and shine but who was grounded and knew that he could never be part of what he saw just then...
As we neared his office, I asked him," So what will do for dinner?"
He answered ," I have just 3 riyals but it is enough for two vadas and a chai."
Sad...but that is the irony of life...

Singapore Snippets

2010-02-15T05:02:00.000-08:00

1. It seems as if Singapore was initially a forest and buildings have been carefully placed around without disturbing the natural flora and fauna.
What this really shows is how well buildings and the city as a whole is planned so as not to disturb the natural balance of the environment.
2. Traffic bottlenecks are just not here and it is equally difficult to spot a policeman in Singapore unless of course there is an emergency.
3. If you visit Singapore in the gap of three to four years, the city will look different, there will be new buildings and old ones will be redeveloped to cater to the increasing needs.
This is because the country has so little space, the government has to constantly innovate and build and rebuild to maximise the land utilisation for the increasing population.
4. 25 percent of Singapore is reclaimed...but isn't this against the environment or is this justified?
5. The old buildings in Singapore, the Supreme Court, the City Hall etc is all redesigned to be included in the National Art Gallery. The whole street is being redesigned so that the these old buildings meld into the new forms...a big push for culture and a sight to behold for sure when complete.
6. I love the modern buildings in Singapore...all of them have a character of its own and it seems to me as if I am opening the pages of an architectural magazine, with the who's who in the field of architecture having designed a building to represent them and their design. Be it the big dish like new Supreme Court Building by Norman Foster or the tall residential tower by IM Pei...Singapore has it all...
7. At the Singapore Art Museum I found contemporary art that literally shocked me...A long table with a black cloth hanging over it and words spelt out in locks of hair spread on the floor below the table...Whatever the explanation, this was art that truly left me wordless...
8. After all the culture gupshup, I thought I would love the Opera, after all it was in the Esplanade, the architectural model and a place that has a 'feel' to it...
I had even imagined if Amir Khan liked it in Dil Chata Hai, well I would surely like it...after all I like him a lot and we have so much in common (and that's in by imagination...)
But sadly, I found out that I am just not cut for the Opera kind of entertainment, I had to pinch myself to keep my eyes open and the loud snores from the person sitting next to me, didn't help me either...
9. Malls and restaurants...look anywhere and you will never find any shortage for both...
10. People are so committed to their work...and you can instantly bond with them, they come with a dose of 'goodness', of genuineness ...
A visit to Singapore recommended to those who want to revive their belief in mankind...

"Just Friends"

2010-02-10T04:49:00.000-08:00

The Singapore visit had many pluses. One of them was meeting up with my batch mates after 18 long years...
Not close friends, but still guys who I was friendly with.
We met at the Changi Airport after my last leg of scheduled appointments and talked nonstop for hours...
We found that one of the hard-core Marxists guys in our batch had migrated to the US and had married an American. We laughed at the irony of that!
Then about a shy, studious guy who had come out of the closet and was writing about inclusion of gay men in the system and that too in our own prude state of Kerala...
We wondered about that ...
We reminisced about the college and the places around it, Pappachan's thattu kada, the juice shop outside, the valley which was privy to a number of budding romances!
It was time well spent. They talked about their children with pride and I talked of mine too...We talked about those who had arranged marriage and those who had to do a bit of talking (read fighting) to make their parents understand and finally agree to it.
At the end of our gupshup, when it was time for me to board my plane, I asked them, "So why didn’t you guys bring your wives along?"
"It was too late," they said, which was true, my flight was at 2am and I could be free only at 10.30pm to reach the airport around 11pm.
But probing further I found that one of them had not mentioned that he was meeting an old classmate of the opposite sex, a convenient omission of sorts...
That pained me and took some or most of the joy away...
I guess honesty is a virtue that isn't prevalent these days and a male-female friendship is still seen with some mistrust.
Is the fault with us women that we view any form of friendship that our menfolk have with a lot of misgiving or that the men can just not have open discussions with their counterparts?
What do you think?

I have been in touch with more males from my college than females and the reason for that is simple, there are fewer of my female batch mates on FB and other social networking sites...
I sincerely wish I could be in touch with more girls of my batch and wish the guys would be more honest.
(P.S: I was honest, I had talked to my husband about meeting these guys, so girls can be honest!)

Who am I?

2010-02-07T02:49:00.000-08:00

An architect, with whom I worked during my initial years after passing out from college and in my first years at Mumbai, recently commented on FB, "You have changed so much, wish I knew this Sindhu."
I haven't changed much, except maybe for the superfluous fat I have gathered around by mid riff and that isn't much of a sight, I assure you.
But then he hasn't seen me aside from what I chose to put up on FB, so how did he 'see' this change in me?
He just assumed that the person in FB, the one who puts up status line messages every other day, pastes interesting quips from newspapers or anywhere else is pretty much a hep and happening woman!
That aside, once, a few months ago, the wife of a colleague, remarked that she could never associate me to a journalist, the kinds of which she has seen in her country.
We met at a dinner party, where I was busy running behind my kids, getting them to eat.
Well, I am not entirely the person on FB, nor the persistent brash person associated with the term journalist, not someone who sees a story before the person involved, but a human being, inquisitive, like how journalist should be, someone who is interested in people and is affected by what is happening around her.
But first and foremost I am a mother...

And with that I have written the 100th blog, finally, and after ages, it seems!

A Singapore Experience

2010-02-04T06:38:00.000-08:00

Have you ever felt so happy in life, a sense of having done it all, seen it all experience? A nirvana of sorts...
I thought I would experience that when I bungee jump or para glide, some day before I die.
Well, I have either got lucky or I am nearing the end of life and I strongly hope it is not the later. Surprisingly I had this feeling not while doing anything extraordinary but by just connecting with good people in a fine country.
The people in Singapore, at least those who I met during my media trip were all so warm, so open and friendly, that it made the five days I was away from home less miserable.
The Uniquely Singapore tag line to attract tourists to Singapore with an animal pictured on its side should ideally have the faces of the natives of the country, the mix of Chinese Malay and even Indian origin Singaporeans.
But it is not just the peaceful people that are to be applauded, the systems are so efficient, the transport system especially. Even before the West started thinking about carbon footprints, Singapore was a step ahead and had dealt with the issue too. The taxes on private vehicles are so high and kept so to discourage people using them and then the govt has made public transport systems so efficient, making it easier for people to travel anywhere within the country.
Housing is also taken care, though it is considered a bit too expensive. The only flaw that the Singaporeans could think about was that everything was so controlled that they had nothing to worry about. The 'mothering' role of the government was sometimes a bit stifling, they say. But isn't that too minor a fault! I would love a bit of mothering from my motherland, instead of the class distinctions, the sharp divide between the poor and the rich and the utter sad state of infrastructure that is the present state of affairs.
Well, as for my experience, these people, their positive attitude, their enthusiasm, their passion towards what they are doing certainly made me more positive in the way I perceive mankind.
I even got a bit daring and have now earned a status of sorts with my colleagues at work...
Singapore has a population growth rate of 1 percent and to encourage families to have kids, office timings are reduced giving couple time to procreate. Among other things, sex shops are also rampant in all the malls. And, the new confident me, not only went into one of the shops, I bought a few things too! Now if that is not one of a kind experience, what is!
And guess who is the happiest person around...my husband! Now keep guessing what I bought from the shop!

It is all about Me

2010-02-02T04:04:00.000-08:00

Blogging is a habit. If you are out of it, it loses significance, it grows smaller and smaller in the context of the rest of everything you are doing...
I loved it when I was doing it constantly and am falling out of love since I am not so regular, now.
I loved the freedom it offered me and now am hesitant of the same freedom and feel it restricting me.
The same incidents that seemed like issues to blog about seem too trivial to even think of being written or blogging about.
I know I will go back to loving it once I give free rein to my fingers and thoughts....till then I tinker about with half finished ideas and thoughts that loose significance once I open my blogger page.
This New Year has been different, very controlled, small scaled, with close friends who matter, a huge change from the loud celebrations we normally had...
But this change has made me feel so good within, happy about the few friends I have, cherish the little gestures I receive. Talk openly about things that matter without being judged. Talk normaly about my job and the people I come across, not to keep them under wraps to make me fit in with the rest, which was the case earlier.
There is a part of me that still misses all the hallabulla, mostly for the kids than for me, but well, I can live with that.
More than anything I am happy being myself, be it alone or with company, maybe I have finally found peace with the self, a sort of understanding of the person I am. I have finally realised that I can never be what others want me to be, and that realisation makes me feel happy and feel complete!

Recession Hit

2009-12-25T05:11:00.000-08:00

Am I imagining this or have I slipped into the role of the 'real' journalist, those ones who complain and create a ruckus for everything that is dished out while taken on a Press trip?
No, I haven't created a ruckus, but what I have seen is a change in the way the media is being treated. Well, earlier we were taken on first class or business class with every detail charted out and followed strictly.
Earlier we were put up in hotels that were in the lap of luxury. Rooms overlooking the London harbour, rooms that spoke volumes in comfort and understated luxury with bathrooms equally big as the rooms. wifi catered too, well you just had to ask and someone would make sure it was done...
Recession now has this burden to bear too - of taking the comforts away from us poor journalists taken on press trips!
This time around, no first class, just economy, but that is fine, no dinner except for the small roll handed on the plane. (I wasn't hungry but the fact that I was without food for a long time, bothered me)
The rooms were fine, not dipped in luxury but very economical and practical! No wifi and when we (me and a fellow journalist, who didn't speak a word or understand English, yet we managed to communicate quite well) ask the hotel authorities, our organiser (a marketing guy) looks away as if this was of no concern to him.(He did eventually pay for it)
All these are fine, really, aren't we supposed to be accommodative when the times are bad, but the thing that most irritated me was the talk from this guy of how privileged we should be to have come here. Ofcourse, I was but to say it so bluntly made it sound downright cheap...
And as we enter the Motor Show, he warns us, don't even look at other cars. We laugh at his seemingly good humour only to discover in a few hours that he was dead serious. We just had to turn and gaze in wonder at a Bentley or gape at an Aston Martin and then he would gesture asking us to hurry for an interview that inevitably got late. And when we talk to a (good looking) Rover guy, he gives me a missed call, standing right in front of me and has the cheek to say, "Hey, I saw u!"
(And silly me, at that instant I felt like a kid caught at a crime!)
When we take interviews he guides or directs us with the questions we ask, to get the right answers about the brand and the group.
And not to mention the questions on coverage even before we start on the trip. Well, others ask too, but isn't there a virtue called subtlety! If there is, then this man surely lacks it!
If Recession has done this to one of the money minting companies then imagine how we should react! Counting our pennies, eating bread every single day and taking our maid on an outing and reminding her of her luck every other moment? Chee!

A restaurant review

2009-12-06T04:04:00.000-08:00

I had to write a review for my course and I thought of sharing it here:

Review: Al Koot Café
Location: Souq Waqif, near Qatar Central Bank, Doha
Sindhu visits AL Koot Café situated in Souq Waqif and finds herself in an Arabian fairy tale, horses, hookahs, exotic herbs et all.

I am a born multi-tasker. I read in the loo, I read while feeding my kids. I check mails while attending meetings; I open two different online editions of newspapers while I work on articles. And now when the idea of writing a review popped up while I was trying to fix a meeting for a story, my brains worked overtime and I plotted and schemed to finish two things at a time. Have the interview with the Architect for a story I was doing at a café that I intend to review. And so here I am, notepad in hand, questions jotted down and the tape recorder running with Simon Gathercole, Associate Director of Allies and Morrison, Architects, beside me and our photographer, Sampath, in a world of his own, clicking away. While Sampath tries to get the best picture, I judge every nook and corner of Al Koot Café in Souq Waqif.
But I cannot talk of the café without speaking more of the Souq, where the café is situated. Enter Souq Waqif and you feel that you have gone back in time. Stone pavements meander through forts clustered in an odd progression that form a beautiful picture. Merchants roam around the place, mixing with a steady flow of tourist, carting merchandise in ancient small steel carts. Soldiers on Arabian steeds trot around the place adding to the Arabic ambience. But aren't this a common sight in a Middle Eastern country, one would quip. No, not in Doha, would answer any resident of this place. Qatar is a country that has progressed leaps and bounds banking on its hydrocarbon resources, seen as a modern country with glass buildings lining the horizon, like any other country with little or no cultural imprint. But with Souq Waqif, it seems as if the country is slowly waking up to revive old customs and traditions.
Coming back to Al Koot Café, situated in one of the side lanes of the Souq, it fits snuggly into the cultural role that it has to play. Maroon tinged glass lanterns hang down the entrance lined with hookas. Simon opts for the cane chairs outside and from this vantage point I take in the surrounding. We start with the interview and then comes the efficient waitress, Dalia, who takes our orders. Come to think of it, the order did take a while to materialise but then, this is not a place to drink a cappuccino in a jiffy. Come here only if you have the whole evening free, to relax, smoke a hookah and just breathe in. The smell of exotic herbs fills the air with the hookah fumes adding to the 'souq' aura.
Our cappuccino arrives tasting like it should, strong, and hot. Sampath sips a mint lime and declares it as excellent. While he takes more pictures of Simon, I pop inside and look around, the same Arabic flavour continues though the seating is huge comfy red cushioned ones with glass lanterns lighting every nook of the small café. I talk to Jherald, who is in charge at the cashier's desk that is lined with cookies and sweets. I ask for a menu card and Jherald says they don't have any.
"But we can make any juice you want, any mix," he declares.
Al Koot is new, just three months old, in this surrounding and gets packed during weekends according to Jherald.
The interview is done, the bills arrive, a tad expensive I reflect, but my photographer gently reminds me, "Half of what you paid was for the ambience."

A dream city shattered

2009-11-30T22:55:00.000-08:00

Every day my inbox gets flooded with press releases.(Mostly with unimportant releases, though) A year back, half of this were from Dubai.Now when things have slowed down, the steady flow has abated but there still is a trickle of such releases announcing to the world what Dubai is currently doing.
No, no more new buildings for some time...
The FM radio channels that we get here is all from Dubai and the world that side seemed to be shining, always, even when recession waves were hitting some countries and Dubai too to an extent.
It was the face of hard sell, of excessive marketing and now it has all gone bust...
Finally people are looking beyond the buildings and finding the face of the labourers who have suffered most in this crisis. Many of them have still not been payed their dues for more than a year, news reports say.
It was the most happening city, a city where dreams would be a reality, and a reporter had said, the city was more Las Vegas than Las Vegas.
Dubai, one of my cousins who lives there quipped, is the best city in India. It was a city in limelight and the torch-bearers were Indians too, Indians who have toiled hard to reach where they are.
But now dreams are being shattered, more now, than ever...
But I wish to God that the poor do not get poorer still while the rich are absolved of their sins of non payment of dues...

The Day After

2009-11-23T02:43:00.000-08:00

Today is Amma's birthday and this year, we both (my sister and me) want her to remember this day as it is. Not as a day after the disaster that hit her some 29 years back.
November, she used to say, is a month of losses. For her and for us, too. Every year, this month she would be tensed throughout, as if expecting something bad to happen and come December, you could feel the tension waft out of her.
It is difficult not to be influenced by that particular incident, especially when it has rewritten her life, and particularly when she was so young, just about to enter her thirties, when it occurred.
When the sheltered life she lived, with her husband, was suddenly pulled away from her, leaving her alone and to top it all, with two girls to look after.
And when this incident had slowly taken a back seat, after 10 years, we had another incident in November, making her words seem even more ominous. That was when a thief got lucky, striking us at the right time, ransacking our house of all the jewels, a few months after my wedding. That incident pulled her back again, making her wallow further.
No, I don't want us to forget that incident, nor forget the few fading memories of Acha, I want her to go forward and take life as it comes not fear it for the shocks it gives, but also learn from the experiences.
So this day, we want Amma to think that November is a month of hope and happiness. Hope for all the things she wants to get done, and happiness by being with her grand children and be never alone…
Happy Birthday Amma.
From now remember November 23 and don't think of this special day as the day after Acha died…

Moving On

2009-11-22T04:59:00.000-08:00

It is like taking off the most snug, comfy old nightwear and slipping into a stiff, trim and maybe a bit fashionable office wear. You know you should like it still you can't. You know it will be easier this way, still you feel like clinging to the odd comfort of the weathered clothing. You see the beautiful surrounding, love it and yet remember the secure grey compound.
I have shifted into a bigger place and am learning to love it, trying to forget the old cozy flat which fitted us perfectly when we arrived here from Mumbai.
"It is huge," I remember saying, when I arrived on our second floor flat, that day six years back. It certainly was huge when you have lived in Mumbai for long.
It was to this flat that I came four months heavy with my younger one, loaded with dreams and some disappointment too being confronted by the depressing colourless sandy landscape, the first sight when the plane touched down on the tarmac at Doha.
But it was from here that I started to develop as a person, be more than a wife or a mother, be a person with some thoughts or opinions of my own.
Now as I leave the flat, I take some memories and shed some junk collected on the way. I keep my memories safe, to take out, dust through and refresh occasionally with my kids and mostly K, while the junk, I leave aside happily, to collect some more in the new place…
As I shuffled down the stairs weighed down by luggage in both hands, I remembered how I had climbed down these very stairs, on the verge of delivery, just hours before N was born. And how I climbed back, sore and tired yet a proud mom, the second-time around, the very next day, with Amma behind holding her newest grandchild then…
How we had a huge office party, (one of the last times we did those), the fun and the games that we had. How we gathered so many families together for dinner and even in the cramped space, had a really wonderful time…
Now, as I drive to the new place, I hope I will have happier enriching times with friends and family…
With this I hope my hiatus from blogging is lifted and I can write freely and openly...

2009-07-29T04:23:00.000-07:00

The routine at K’s home:
A normal scene a week before
4 pm: K and S are both back from office. They grab a plate and have a generous helping of rice and homemade curries with pappad. Both love food and enjoy a good meal thoroughly.
K: “What sweets do we have?” after a burp of satisfaction, finishing off his meal.
S: “Nothing, we finished the payasam I made a week back and I haven’t had the time to cook anything new.”
K gives S a look of dissatisfaction. The way to K’s heart is through his stomach and well, let’s not talk about the other …
But S is not bothered. After 14 years of marriage who wants to be in the husband’s heart, anywhere near the purse is where she yearns to be!
S: “But there are those Arabic sweets, you can have those.”
K moves towards his next target, a bit mollified.
S doesn’t budge from her position, with her legs outstretched…and hands not letting go of the remote, a precious possession now….
The younger 11 year old, Kav is prowling nearby.
One has to be careful, or the programme would be suddenly change to Kav’s preferred Hannah Montana or Wizards of Waverly place…
K finishes the sweets and moves towards the bedroom and gestures to S, asking her to follow.
S ignores him while watching a mediocre Mallu programme and acts as if it is the most interesting programme till K gives up and moves on …
10 minutets later
K: “Daaa…”
S: ‘Varunnu….coming.”
Another 10 minutes pass by but S hasn’t budged from her seat
10 minutes and a sterner “Daaa,” later, S relinquishes her power position and hands over the remote to a victorious Kav.(who was expecting this move anyway)
S settles in quietly between K and N and the whole household rests in peace, the afternoon siesta time which extends into evening…
By 7pm
S is up and about making coffee and repeatedly calls out to K to come and have his cup…
By 7.30 finally K is up and relaxes with his coffee watching TV.
S cooks dinner while watching over the kid’s HW.
A peaceful scene but look out, a storm is already brewing in there…
K trys to be helpful but soon enough there is a huge commotion, Kav is not agreeing with the father K’s version to a certain solution and thus starts the war…
The younger N leaves her HW half done. She escapes unnoticed in the commotion and packs her books back into her bag.
By the time S reaches with her peace mission, the atmosphere is charged with verbosities and emotions are flying out into the air.
S’s mission is entirely unsuccessful. Father K now accuses S of bringing up the kid leniently and thus the entire cause of the whole incident is now resting squarely on S’s shoulder. She carries the load back to the kitchen, leaving the war scene unresolved…
By 9.30PM…the angry family again converges for more verbal debates and dinner….

The scene now at K’s house:
K’s family has finally registered with a club, after a month of hunting through the few options available. K has finally given his verdict, found the best one and the family too seconds the master’s decision.
6PM: K’s household is thriving with activity and everyone seems to be in a rush…packing, trying out old and unfitting training gear.
The younger one, N is again trying to finish her HW as that was a condition for being taken, but she leaves it after a few futile attempts…
N’s completed HW is a dream for the whole family and for N too …
K is smarter; she has cut short her TV watching session and has completed her HW way ahead of time.
The afternoon siesta is cut short, the bickering sessions are minimal and by 7pm, the whole family is on their way....

Moral of the story:“An active family is a peaceful family”
Quick take:“Hope they keep this interest alive for a month at least…”

40 years of Moonhood

2009-07-19T03:15:00.000-07:00

Remember the static sounds and the near muffled words uttered on the unclear and dark backdrop of the moon. Relive the excitement evoked every time you saw the clipping even if you were born years after this moment in history. Who can forget the ‘One step for man a giant leap for mankind’ quip by Neil Armstrong? I get goose pimples every time I hear these words and now, that historic moment is said to be faked.
Is the world really so unscrupulous or are we just cynical and sceptical of everything that is being reported? Is the media at fault here too for revealing their questioning nature for anything in particular?
And to make matters worse, the original recording of this historic moment has disappeared.
How can such slip-ups ever be forgiven? Why can’t an organisation that has launched man on the moon, the technological leap of the century, hold on to one of the most treasured moments in history and keep it safe?
According to NASA it has been erased and re-used, but newly restored copies of the original broadcast look even better.
Now that does smell suspicious, even to me… (I believe everything, even my younger one fool me and gets away with it.)
So what do you think,was this really a NASA fabricated lie by US to silence the Russians and their believed space supremacy?!

I am gay

2009-07-14T05:16:00.000-07:00

Now that is something to make people come running to my post, so guys it was just a standfirst, something that comes before a headline to attract readers to a story…Sorry to disappoint you, I am not 'that' Gay.
But I am happy! Because I have finished my second paper and am now hoping God blesses Mr Gavin, who will be correcting my paper, and keeps him in the best of spirits so that he can liberally overlook my literals!
But talking about that interesting word, ‘gay’, there are so many facets and many of them are being colourfully brought out in all the dailies without much restrain.
I am all for freedom as long as mine is not impinged.
But I do have an issue with one ‘minor’ detail that I just can’t understand. It could be my view but I have to say this aloud. I just can’t understand why gay men (at least some of them) behave and dress so outrageously almost as if vying for attention. If they want to be 'seen'as normal men why would they do that…why would they want to stand out and attract attention to themselves and be branded as ‘different’.
While that is just my thought on this I strongly feel that we are on the right path. It might take long for a tradition-bound society to accept homosexuals but after Section 377 was rewritten by the High Court; we have taken one big step that makes us think twice before we criminalise someone just for their nature.
And at this stage, I think of the beautiful movie, Philadelphia which was instrumental in making me consider homosexuality as natural as heterosexuality. Well, almost….(and that’s my primitive self raising its head)

Family calling...

2009-06-20T05:19:00.000-07:00

Deeps photo tag was so cute, UMMON's so very touching...Now here is my version of the photo tag.

It is June, the month when I start getting this urge, this irresistive pull towards by home town. June, the month of rains, that time of the month when the fields are lush and green, when towns and cities get a new lease of life, cleaned and washed by rains...when the smell of wet earth gives me this queer joy that is secondary only to being at home...

And bringing back these memories is this picture...taken two years back at my husband's hometown, M....., a quiet village really but the one place that my kids love to go(other than my mom's house ofcourse), every year, to see the same sights, gaze at tall coconut trees, poke jackfruits hanging from short trees, look at the ponds and try counting the lotus floating on the murky waters, kill umpteen insects...go behind the cow and count the hens...followed, monitored and even encouraged by their two most lovable grand moms.

My mother-in-law (she is the shorter of the two in blue saree) and her sister(who lives there, she has no kids and but loves kids and is a child (at heart) herself)with my two...

And I wish it will be August soon and I can see them both, hug them and talk to them of things that don't matter at all in the big scheme of things, but still talk to feel loved, to be a part of family, to be near mother nature, to see my kids and my husband happy and carefree...

Questions..and some answers...

2009-06-17T12:50:00.000-07:00

UMMON tagged me here...and she did the same too...
I follow...

What is something I always say to you?
N(the younger one): Sundarikutty (beautiful baby)
K(the elder, wiser one): Don’t watch TV, GO and study

Am I so impartial?!

What makes me happy?
N: when I do my HW
K: when I get full marks

Like any competitive mom?!

What makes me sad?
N: When I am not doing my HW and going to J..’s house
K: When I don’t take bath

How do I make you laugh?
N: When you cuddle and kiss me
K: When you dance and say silly things

What do you think I was like as a child?
N: A beautiful girl (she is a big ‘maska’mari one, I should tell you)
K: Always studying (that’s is the impression I gave her)

How old am I?
N: 10 (and when I laughed, she corrected it to 11)
K: 36

Ah, my kids, the younger they are the younger I get!

How tall am I?
N: very tall
K: same as my height

What is my favourite thing to do?
N: kiss
K:blog (ah, she knows me!)

What do I do when you’re not around?
N: Go to office
K: Go to office

Not very orginal, a boring mom!

If I become famous, what will it be for?
N: being a good mother
K: for writing a book! (wow…)

What am I really good at?
N: Loving me ( she first said kissing…did K, MY HUS, tell her or what?!)
K : shouting and scaring me (she has suddenly realised that she is making me happy and changes tactics)

What am I not really good at?
N: ugh (she means amma is good at everything, my intrepetation)
K: playing with us! (Look out for more mean-stuff from her…)

What is my job?
N: cooking…
K: chief correspondent

What is my favourite food?
N: everything…
K:Hameel fried rice! (Yummy, the cheapest but tastiest joint)

What makes you proud of me?
N: ………(she didn’t understand)
K: when you came to school to take journalism class

What makes me proud of you?
N: ….
K: when will this get over, so boring…

What do you and I do together?
N: HW
K:nothg

How are we the same?
N:We are girls
K: We have brains

How are you and I different?
N: different hair (now she is desperate to go off and watch Mr Bean)
K: You don’t put any good accessories (bangles, earrings etc)

What is one thing you wish you could change about me?
N: (she has left…)
K: bossy attitude

I stop here…both are too irritated and I am sure they might do something drastic if I don’t.
Reflections, I am waiting to hear your version(I know you will tell me I have lots of tags to finish!), Smitha's, Solilo (who is already tagged) and Deeps(too tagged), Renu,Overdrive...everyone who wants to join in, please do...this tag...

K's exhibition

2009-06-11T23:03:00.000-07:00

She has been pestering me a lot for this…and finally I am doing it.
All of you are invited to a special preview of my elder one’s paintings. She is talented as you can see (and I hope this is not just mother’s pride talking here) but what I like most about her creativity is how she converts useless throwaway items into pieces of art. And as I show these, I pray that she keeps at this wonderful talent and doesn’t loose interest in it as she grows older...
These are the paintings she has done over two years with the guidance of a wonderful artist friend of mine who is so very unassuming and down-to-earth. I always like to think K is learning more than just art at her place but that she learns a lesson or two in humility too.

So here they go...

Do you remember this one below, UMMON, I had borrowed an Eid greeing card from you, well this is an attempted recreation of that

This one is her own attempt at creating a Warli painting...

I love this one, the effect looks good, though it is just crayons...

This one is also from an Eid greeting, she got a prize for this one too...

An earlier painting of hers...

And this one is in colour pencils done almost two years back...

And this is her attempt at creating something new, the colours are beautiful here aren't they?

This is what I like best, how she created beautiful pen-stands out of used soda cans...

The Silver Lining

2009-06-09T07:03:00.000-07:00

As if to debunk my myth on friendship and to remind me of some friendship that have tided over time and place, I went out with my college friend last week and thoroughly enjoyed myself. There were no concealed jabs, no underlying messages no whines over infinitesimal pains and aches, just open and ceaseless positive conversation, lot of gossip, a bit of nostalgia (thinking about college and our carefree life then), a bit of husband comparison (we came to the consensus that they are all the same), genuine thoughts on parenting thrown in with some good food, and excellent interiors (we can’t help but noticing that detail!)

Though my junior in college (she reminds of that minor detail incessantly), we hit it off from the moment we met in college and she was constantly in my room, talking about our passion then, architecture and our individual boyfriends…

Our passions have undergone a major change, she is now into sustainable architecture ( a slight change) and me into writing (a major change here) and our boyfriends have become our husbands so they are no longer a passion!

And our friendship has endured, and so there is a silver lining in the sky, though I take time to see it!

And this is one ingredient I wish that all of us would pepper our life with, maybe a little more generously, some girl-bonding time, a few hours in a month to connect with your friends and alone without tagging our family with us.

This is where we connected ...

How about you? And do you do this often?

Friends and losing them

2009-06-05T01:53:00.000-07:00

I hate losing friends, period. Even if it is a friendship forged out of convenience for the whole family, the husband’s friend and family becomes friends for the family because kids are of the same age and the guys like hanging out together.
I am like that person in ‘Dil Chahta Hai’ who remembers dates and goes all emotional remembering old incidents… Yes, I too have issues with friends and more so when it is family friends, when I hold grudges against them in my hearts and even bring them up in conversations and ask for explanation but am equally fiercely protective about them. I also feel I have the sole right to say anything against them and if someone even nods in agreement to my complaints, I defend them, because yes, they might do something that hurts me but they are my friends, right…
But what do you do when the signs are obvious, when your calls aren’t returned for the umpteen time, when you are constantly forgotten to be included in group outings, or there are no group outings for now everyone prefers to be alone, when you can sense that aloofness, like a shadow lurking between words and actions…
I tried once more, called them all over for another of our get together…but that too didn’t work, it left me strained and unhappy…the magic of togetherness is lost; the fun that we shared during the Thursday night get-togethers, the constant ribbing, the easy flow of mundane conversation…is all a thing of the past.
Should I let go or keep holding on to memories…
I hold on to memories for they are just mine to revisit and relive those good-old-days, when kids were small, when life was simple and uncomplicated …
And I let go too of expectations too and hope that I have friends for ever, friends whom I don’t have to call regularly but who understand your schedules, who don’t expect anything from you, who are there just within a phone call distance, for you to talk to and be just you…
Or is it expecting too much

2009-06-01T03:52:00.000-07:00

I am officially the mother of a ‘grown-up’. And it hurts.
It hurt when I saw her large beautiful eyes widen in deep amazement and shock at her first sight of this unwelcome monthly visitor.
...when I think she is just 11, a kid, now, tomorrow and always to me...
…when I saw tears welling up in her eyes as I explained this will be a monthly ritual that will go on for years to come.
…when I see her trying to hide her growing panic at the unexplainable pain she endures
…when she asks me every hour when this will get over
…when she implores me to not tell her father about this change in her…
It hurts when I think she can’t be that carefree, sports loving, out going, innocent little girl of mine, who can only sit with her legs up.
But I will make her understand, that this does not hinder her in any way, in any of her activities… (though I don’t think it is fair at all that we have all the pain and the ‘unfair sex’ has all the fun)
On the flip side, I can see the beginning of a deeper bond…of mom and daughter, me and her, as both of us stand huddled in the bathroom, with me talking to her about experiences that are far worse than hers. How she comes to me just to talk, to put her confused mind to rest, to share her fears and how when she fervently swore that in her next birth, she wants to be born as a ‘boy’ and when I agreed with her and said, “Yeah, me too!” and we looked at each other and smiled our secret smile…I can see the bond blooming…and I hope it will grow stronger. Touchwood.
And not far behind the doors there is a pair of investigating eyes, those of my younger ones, who is trying hard to understand why we are sharing too many bathroom secrets…

Back at it

2009-06-01T02:40:00.000-07:00

I had work, it was hot, I was depressed…but all these were limitations I had faced earlier on,and yet could write atleast 4 blogs a month, so WHY am I not, writing…! N, is gently prodding…and I have no answers….
It is a question that I am trying to answer, should I go on…or just put a stop to it, because it is really an effort to find time and the dedication to keep this page going.
Then I remember the joy I feel, each minute I upload a new blog and yet again, I decide to go back…
I have been feeling a bit depressed with life as such, with the reason why one blogs, how to write yet not hurt anybody who reads this. I know this is where we have to write without a care but I am not made that way, for me, each action I take is weighed against the consequences it has on others…I am moulded that way, call it hereditary, or an exclusive trait, but I have this…and it is difficult to change NOW.
So I tuck in my ‘hurt’ feathers, and go on with my strutting …

Ready for more...

2009-05-02T03:21:00.000-07:00

14 years…that is a long time, it seems like yesterday though. The excitement, the tension, the anxiety on that day 14 years back, when we finally tied the knot after years of waiting.
And we have grown, together, learning to love and hold on in the face of adversities…during these years.
The first two years were a honeymoon except for the six months of being apart when he went sailing. And then our focus changed, from being so engrossed in each other, we both took on the role of being a provider to the addition in the family. I saw my life partner change from a careless, fun-loving youth to a mature man who took his responsibilities seriously, sometimes a bit too much. And I loved him even more…
I saw his eyes soften with a new light when he carried our first born, I saw him looking out for some characteristics of her that resembled his. And I loved him even more…
He was a strict father but I knew that he was a soft and completely malleable underneath the stern façade.
The next two years with the additional responsibility were tough years for both of us, he had left his lucrative sailing profession for a stable but less lucrative shore job (to be with us) and we were learning the ropes of living alone like a family.
Each year had its challenges, from living in a small rented flat to buying our own; we have scrapped through, with our own set of fights and disagreements. Two completely different people trying to live harmoniously…
The love has grown stronger, resilient and we have become so used to each other, we just can’t manage alone. He is my best friend, who I hate in between, but still kind of like his idiosyncrasies, because it is all about ‘him’. I love his grey hair, the slight paunch, his cynicism, how he looks at me and makes me tell the little secrets that I had thought not to give out. Well, the 14 years have been difficult, but I have loved each moment of it…
Love you, da…
P.S:
(I have booked him for a massage session, but the evil me, made sure that is being done by a man (old too! You can never be too sure these days!)….

A peek into my love life...

2009-04-16T01:20:00.000-07:00

The arresting colour, the shine of skin under the blazing sun, contours that make you want to glide your hands over and caress the classic bends and dips, the trim lines and firm body. And then when you get closer and inside, the gentle purr of power, the quick response to my touch, the smooth glide and then the exhilaration once you master it…
Well, guys don’t get me wrong, this is just not what you think…
This is how I would describe our new Mazda CX9…and it truly gives a wonderful smooth ride!
The high I get of driving this powerful black beauty is beyond description…
The interiors are equally sexy with the dim blue light from the wedges near the door handles and from the front panel along with red hues behind panels giving the effect of an up-scale pub. And listening to music on the wonderful Bose system while driving is almost as heady as a sip of red wine!
But when will get it again? I eye the beauty whenever we go out but even before I can ask for the keys, my husband hurries into the driving seat and sits looking ahead ignoring my hurt look.
So till I get to drive this one yet again I live with the passion of unfulfilled love…

P.S: That's the black beauty for you

Ushering in the new era of blogging

2009-04-14T03:35:00.000-07:00

The world is not so bad, guys. Look at this, how a blogger, who lost her child was consoled by all her blog friends...
Let's begin our new year (by the way, I am still waiting for Vishu wishes, N!)with three cheers for the world of blogging!
Hip Hip Hurray...
(silently praying that I can keep this spark alive by constant contributions, which does ebb when the going gets tough)

The First One

2009-04-02T02:40:00.000-07:00

Deeps tagged me long back and I am reliving my 1st pregnancy, thanks to her...

1.WAS YOUR PREGNANCY PLANNED?
It wasn’t but we were eager to extend our family…

2. WERE YOU MARRIED AT THE TIME?
Of course.

3. WHAT WERE YOUR REACTIONS?
I was terrified as I was sailing with my husband with no doctors on board and the rule was that preganant women should not sail! And I wanted to be with my husband...

4. WAS ABORTION AN OPTION FOR YOU?
Never …

5. HOW OLD WERE YOU?
I was 26 years.

6. HOW DID YOU FIND OUT YOU WERE PREGNANT?
I could smell my husband from far… and I puked as soon as I smelt the dinner at the ship’s dining hall. We were sailing towards Italy and there was no way I could confirm and even at (Taranto) one of the port cities in Italy, where we berthed, we just had 12 hours to go and come back.
This is a big story so bear with me…We went inside what we thought was a hospital and it wasn’t, it was a old age centre and they (the receptionists) called for the ambulance, thinking I was ‘serious’. Neither us nor they understood what the other was speaking. (Nobody spoke a bit of English) So there I was, in a wheel chair, taken to a hospital on an ambulance (with the red lights on and the siren screaming…). Both of us were shocked into inaction. I was rushed into an examination room and checked by Italian doctors who finally gave us their verdict, “Gravidanca…” and seeing our bewildered faces repeated, “Pregnant, 3 months and all fine”. We were at peace only then…

7. WHO DID YOU TELL FIRST?
My husband, but I didn’t have to tell him too, he could see the effects…I used to run as soon as he entered our cabin…to the loo and puke!

8. DUE DATE?
October 6 1997

9. DID YOU HAVE MORNING SICKNESS?
Mine was different, it was not restricted to the mornings…I puked whenever I came in contact with food or my husband!

10. WHAT DID YOU CRAVE?
The first three months I hated food and then I just wanted home cooked food.

11. WHO/WHAT IRRITATED YOU THE MOST?
Do I have to tell you, my husband of course.

12. WHAT WAS YOUR FIRST CHILD'S SEX?
Girl

13. DID YOU WISH YOU HAD THE OPPOSITE SEX OF WHAT YOU WERE GETTING?
No, I was happy with a girl

14. HOW MANY POUNDS DID YOU GAIN THROUGHOUT THE PREGNANCY?
Around 12 kgs

15. DID YOU HAVE A BABY SHOWER?
No

16. WAS IT A SURPRISE OR DID YOU KNOW?
Not applicable

17. DID YOU HAVE ANY COMPLICATIONS DURING YOUR PREGNANCY?
Thankfully , except for the first few months, I had an uneventful pregnancy.

18. WHERE DID YOU GIVE BIRTH?
AT my hometown, Kottayam

19 HOW MANY HOURS WERE YOU IN LABOR?
From 5pm to 8.30pm

20. WHO DROVE YOU TO THE HOSPITAL?
My husband drove me but couldn’t park anywhere near and I walked to the hospital

21. WHO WATCHED YOU GIVE BIRTH?
None from the family

22. WAS IT NATURAL OR C-SECTION?
Natural

23. DID YOU TAKE MEDICINE TO EASE THE PAIN?
Nope

24. HOW MUCH DID YOUR CHILD WEIGH?
She was small, 2.8kg

25. WHEN WAS YOUR CHILD ACTUALLY BORN?
8.28pm on September 30, a week early, in 1997

26. WHAT DID YOU NAME HIM/HER?
Kavya, I loved that name...

27. HOW OLD IS YOUR FIRST BORN?
She is 11 years now…

28. WHAT WAS YOUR REACTION WHEN THE DOCTOR ANNOUNCED THE SEX OF THE BABY?
I didn’t give it much thought, for me, the sex of the baby wasn’t important.

29. WHAT WAS YOUR FIRST REACTION ON SEEING THE BABY?
Well, I was just relieved it was all over

30. DID YOU CRY
No, I was in too much in pain as the doctor began the stitching up soon after…

I am sure, this must have bored you...so do you want me to go on and write about my second one?Ah, I can hear the groans...
Here I want to tag, Reflections, Renu and all those who haven't done this, it will be fun to read for us and will take you back to those years too...

Another 55f

2009-04-01T04:28:00.000-07:00

This gets interesting...so another try.

Lost Identity?

They slept like one, bodies intertwined, a bundle of mass…
Until a noise from downstairs woke her and she cried out, “My husband is home.”
The man gathered his clothes and jumped out of the window.
A few minutes later he walked back in and said sheepishly, “But I am the husband.”

About 55 Fiction
A literary work will be considered 55 Fiction if it has:
Fifty-five words or less (A non-negotiable rule)
A setting,
One or more characters,
Some conflict, and
A resolution. (Not limited to moral of the story)

A 55 Fiction

2009-03-30T03:52:00.000-07:00

I found this interesting and wanted to try my hand at it...

I search for my toothbrush but can’t find it ...
“N…,” I shout, “Where is amma’s brush?”
N appears and says, innocently, “I put it here,” indicating the bidet. I peep down the pipe – and see three more.
I look at her threateningly.
She smiles angelically, “I was washing them.”
I succumb to her charm…

About 55 Fiction
A literary work will be considered 55 Fiction if it has:
Fifty-five words or less (A non-negotiable rule)
A setting,
One or more characters,
Some conflict, and
A resolution. (Not limited to moral of the story)

Is this Generation Gap?

2009-03-25T04:30:00.000-07:00

Taking you back 25 years to my hometown, Kottayam
Exam time for me
The day starts quite early with some last hours of mugging up and then a cold bath. Then taking the pen with me, I would run off to the temple to offer my prayers. The last important step in getting good marks, I believed then and with conviction. The pen would be given for pooja and holding it reverently I would trek off to school.

Fast forward to this era
My daughter’s exams
I suggested this age old technique of mine and though K (my elder one who is 11 years old) expressed disdain, I saw her taking a small picture of the God and tucking it into her pencil box. I keep mum. Two exams later, I saw her keep it back. The next exam was Hindi, her toughest one and I saw her struggling with it, with just a few pushes and doubt clearing from both of us. But after the exams she came back happy, saying she has done it well.
Her reasoning to this, “I took God’s picture with me for the first two exams and I didn’t do the papers well, I kept God back and then the exams were easier.”
I explained, “God makes sure that what you remember what you studied. That is just 10 % of the total. How you fare depends ultimately on your hard work. You put in more work on the last exams and so naturally you did well. Hard work constitutes the 90 %.”
She listened, but she refuses to take the picture along with her…
I am sure she has her reasons, and the next time I insist she would even come with rejoinders, like, ‘You have said earlier, God is always with us’.
So I just let her be, I conclude that I was naïve at her age, I clung on to age-old beliefs, though it hasn’t done me any harm…it has only helped, maybe at least that 10 % bit.
And I don’t think I have changed much, even if I still believe work is worship, I don’t forget to think of God before I do anything important…and I am sure all this will rub off on K too.

Not me!

2009-03-18T05:31:00.000-07:00

Picture this.
I am outside after a conference and am surrounded by familiar faces, those of the media and those who are participating in the talks, some familiar and some unfamiliar ones. And from far, this guy from a local newspaper, waves at me and bears down on me with a happy, almost triumphant look on his face. I look back, and there is the wall behind me, so I decide, Yes, all of this smile is for me!
I hope there is some good news in the offing and look at him expectantly.
He stretches out his hand and shakes my hand vigorously saying "Congrats"
ME: "What, why?"
(Trying to pull back my hand)
He: “Well, heard some good news!"
ME: "You did!"
He: "Yes, Congrats and how do you manage."
Me: (now slightly relieved...thinking he means about my job and the recent responsibilities I am handling, I almost preen in self appreciation) and say, "Well, it is difficult, but I manage."
He: “Is it a she or a he"
I almost faint in shock...and manage to mumble: “What!"
Now the confusion is in his face...
And then it dawned on me, this guy had heard of my boss's good news, a new baby girl, a happy addition to their family and mistook me for her.
I gave him a look, one of disgust and pity and well all the bad emotions that I could pull into one expression and said, "Kindly verify facts before you publish and utter them!"
And if looks could have killed, he is now a dead man...

A lady of contradictions?

2009-03-18T05:20:00.000-07:00

I have all of it in me, bottled up, but the flood gates wouldn’t open. I tried hard to let the fingers fly over the keyboard but they were still and lifeless, when I navigated on to the blog page. (Only then, mind you, I have been writing lots for my job…)
Until finally, I decided, I should let loose the fire in me -- to write without inhibitions, without being bogged down by deadlines and word counts, and that will happen only if I don’t loosen up and write. Hence this…
A lot has been happening, yes, here in Qatar too and we the media have been on our toes trying to be everywhere.
On one of these trips, I met our very own Mira Nair. True to all expectations she was all words and actions and could be categorized as borderline brash too. The reasoning, I will come to later.
But here, Mira Nair, was addressing a foreign audience and she used her oratory skills to the max. She said that she didn’t want to be known as the cultural ambassador of India.
And that put me off, when (mostly) all her movies and the monies made from them can be attributed to that very country, how can she deny the effect of that upbringing here in front of a global audience!
But then as a contradiction to her own words, were her cinema, so full of colours and customs and traditions, especially the scene in Namesake where the protagonist (Tabu) mourns the death of her husband. And then I forgave her or rather understood that an artist should not be judged by her words but by her creations…for even if she hates being called the cultural ambassador of India, she is just that.
And for the brash part, well, it is partly my fault, while we were talking to her, my cell rang…and I instantly cut it and put in my sorry (and wasn’t I embarrassed, I am usually very careful and put it on silent for all meetings!), well, then this lady replied, “You should be!”
And then I wished I could be invisible, atleast during that moment!

Anyone for a Hiccup?

2009-03-01T03:39:00.000-08:00

When things go bad….it kind of acceralates a chain reaction and you find that everything is going wrong around you…
I had a particular episode which is a case in point.
My exam day had dawned, bright and shiny, and though I had a bad night, trying to put my younger one to peaceful sleep and going through my notes in between, I got up feeling positive.
But that feeling just didn't last too long.
N’s fever shot up suddenly and I wrote part of the exam, carrying her and she was boiling hot… The clever tutors’ at LSJ had taken efforts to make the Law paper so hard that it was virtually impossible to finish it in time and that combined with the effort of carrying N made me lag a good 2 question behind schedule…
Well, not just that, K suddenly fell sick too and he even started with a loud new rather unheard of ailment -- hiccupps…
The first hiccup was just ignored, the second and third, partially, but when you have heard over a hundred hiccups, your patience wears thin and you cringe at the loud disturbance.(Well, please don’t doubt me, the love is there, of course, but the love gets lost behind the efforts of controlling this sound pollution!)
We tried everything, from water, to sugar, to tickling, to putting ice cubes down his body…but he just wouldn’t stop! But my poor husband was tired with the effort and I could just watch helplessly.
So we set off to the emergency (and he was at it for 4 hrs by then). Reaching there, I went to park the car. As I came running back, I find him standing in the queue, smiling and I wait for the next one, hiccup, that is….But miraculously, it has stopped and the reason…the nurse at the counter. He just walked to her and was in the process of explaining his predicament when he found out that the next great hiccup just didn’t come.
We came back after a brief consultation with the specialist, who gave him medicines, incase they returned. But my husband was of the opinion that the nurse was the best medicine and wanted atleast to get her picture...
We came back in a better frame of mind, had a coffee and then…he hiccupped again!
Any solutions folks, to this ailment?

A tag again...

2009-02-25T23:48:00.000-08:00

N has passed on this so here I go...

1. I am very possessive about my immediate family and friends.
2. I can crib about my dear ones but if someone says a word against them, they are up for a fight.
3. When I was young, the prize I asked my mother to give me, when I came first in class was for a library membership.
4. I don’t rest UNTIL I finish all my work…that way, I can be called a workaholic…I just don’t relax until I am mentally free from work.
5. I am a die-hard romantic…
6. I don’t like to plan ahead, not much in advance…I am afraid to do so. I believe that God has already planned for us.
7. When we were young, my mom used to restrain us from laughing loud( she had her reasons.) and even now, when I laugh out loud, I feel guilty.
8. My husband is my first and best friend, we discuss everything and anything…I just can’t keep any secrets from him.
9. I want my kids to be with me, always, I can’t imagine them being on their own. This is one dream I can’t hold on to, I know, still…
10. I am very self critical, I need a lot of ego bolstering…
11. I yawn a lot…actually, yes; I also love to sleep a lot too.
12. I hate meeting new people…
13. I abhor change …if I could have it; I love things as they are, every day…
14. But I hate monotony too…so I am a typical Geminian…and everything depends on my moods.
15. I love movies…good family ones and I get so engrossed I live the parts along with the actors…
16. I notice everything about the way movies are made, from small nuances to cinematography…I always think of the effort that goes into the making…
17. I love the sea…I love to see the waves lashing on the land.
18. I love to just look at my kids, I feel they are beautiful…
19. I see only good things; I have yet to master the art of being a critic. But I am working at it, my job requires me to be critical and I am trying.
20. My idea of a perfect holiday is to just laze around, lie down reading a book.
21. I love to read…anytime, everytime.
22. I am very sentimental about relations but am not about stuff or belongings…
23. I used to go out of the way for friends, but now, I am prioritizing…
24. I forgive fast…
25. I love the sunshine and the wind…I love the greens and even the vacant deserts…I see beauty everywhere…

A Tag on Hold

2009-02-09T03:55:00.000-08:00

This is a tag from a new blog that I have been reading...
And a simple gesture, Holding Hands and what it means ...
To me it is about Reassurance

Before I leave N's hands and let her go, I hold her hand and squeeze it tight, and it says a lot...
It says, " Molu, you might be going on your own, but I am there with you, in every step, in every thought and gesture...Be safe."

It's Love

When I hear a good song, a touching lyric, when the horizon is touched with that orange hue, when a beautiful building lines my vision, I am touched and I want to share it with my love, I hold his hands firmly, tug it and gesture with my eyes and in his eyes I see the reflection of what I feel...

It's comfort

When I go home, I love to cuddle (well, still!) with Amma, and she protests. But when we cross roads together, she holds on to me and we guide each other. Here it is comfort, b'coz even after the hurdle is crossed, we don't let go, we hold on...

It's timeless

I rememeber when I was young, my father used to put his pointer finger down and I would clutch on to it...it was all these feelings put together, love, reassurance, togetherness, comfort and even the memory of that clutch, is timeless...
So all my fellow bloggers, you are tagged...go on...hold on to this!

Exam Fever

2009-02-08T01:01:00.000-08:00

I am having it...THE EXAM FEVER
I am rambling in my sleep and walking around like a zombie at weird hours
Trying to make sense of the pages and notes of Media Law...
I sit, stare and scribble...
I read and mumble...
I ponder and speculate...
And then I nod off...
I shake myself, wash my face and get a cup of coffee to revive
Sit down and gulp it...
And go back to the notes...
But sleep comes back as soon as the cup is drained...
The eyelids get heavy...and drop...
To be opened yet again
I shake myself as if to ward off the evil
Make faces, smirk and sneer, cough and laugh (soundlessly) in the hopes of staying awake
But soon I am floating on a cloud...weightless, thoughtless...deliriously happy
Till K kicks me out of my beautiful reverie
And I am back at it...reading, nodding, dreaming...

Destiny

2009-02-02T03:38:00.001-08:00

It had to be written, it is heavily weighing me down and it keeps with the mood I am in right now. I think of N's elder one, P and see a reflection of another time, another kid...another place...
It goes to show how a small incident, one moment that hits you like a storm and twists the simple life you have led, changes your destiny!
I have a small incident to recount, one that changed the course of life too…of a nine-year-old…

It was like any other Saturday. But there was a small difference. The young girl had practise sessions to attend, and her father was feeding her a favourite combination, puttu and motta. It was a weird combination (the puttu and egg combination) but one that both of them preferred, the father and the daughter.
It was a rare sight indeed, a father bonding so perfectly, but the father had dreams, big ones for his elder one, and both of them shared a perfect understanding. He explaining the fundamentals of maths and science, making studies a wholly entertaining subject for the daughter, who had already shown signs of his dreams materialising by her interest for the figures…
The father sets his child off to school and she walks to the bus-stand to go for her march past practise for a function at her school. Her heart seems heavy for no reason; it is as if she could foresee what was to happen.
She stands waiting for over 15 minutes for the bus and finally she spots the company jeep speeding her way and she waves…imagining the person behind the wheel to be either the father or their neighbour and friend Sharma Uncle, on their way to office. The jeep screeches to a stop and someone from inside gestures and asks her to get it. She does so happily, opens the door and is shocked by the scene inside.
The father is lying with his head on the moms lap and she is bending over him, crying uncontrollably. He seems to be having difficulty breathing, his eyes were dilated and he was looking at his child yet not seeing her. She shook him calling “Acha, (father)”, but he just kept looking…gazing deeply as if he could see right through her. She relentlessly tries to get her father to answer her…till they reach the hospital and then she is left alone while the attendees rush her father inside…
It seems like ages before she gets to see the mother who seems to be tired with all the crying….
The daughter asks Sharma Uncle for her Achan and he hugs her close…but doesn’t answer her question…
She finds her teachers too at the hospital and wonders whether they will be angry with her for absconding the practise sessions. She smiles apologetically and approaches them and they too hold her close…and she wonders, why this sudden affection?
She feels important with the attention bestowed on her but is puzzled too…and walks to her mother and asks her …where her father is?
The mother breaks down yet again and she is led away by friends. Now she is almost frightened to ask the same question again. She keeps quiet till the evening when they reach home(which is filled with strangers) and her mother takes her aside and explains to her that her father (at the age of 40), had a massive heart attack and has died, leaving them alone. So, her mother explains, that she is the one who has to take care of S( the 2-year-old younger sister) and be responsible, not cry, but be brave…
Life changed from then…from being a carefree child whose only dream was to make her father happy… to take on a more responsible role ( a role she didn’t quite play well)Well, that’s how destiny shapes your future…from a warm cocoon one moment to an insecure future, the other.

And reflected in this scene, I see P… and I hope she doesn’t forget to enjoy life with the weight of her responsiblities, like I did…

May God give you strength, my friend

2009-02-01T03:06:00.000-08:00

She was the sweetest of all. Her smile lit her eyes; her laugh was loud and uninhibited. She always had friends around and I used to envy her for this trait of hers, how she mixed and mingled with all so effortlessly…
She never had a bad opinion about others, not even in jest did she laugh at others. We were part of a small gang, we three, but then N, had so many friends, outside this gang and she was never alone.
All this for two years and I left them to go on to another college but in those two years, we three had grown so close and I remember we cried when we parted ways…
Yes, we were in touch, but you know, how distance brings along changes. We used to call, but the gaps between the calls increased each year. The benefit of the net wasn’t there then and we grew further apart.
But the heart never forgets, nor did we…In our special ways, we remembered and carried beautiful memories of those carefree times, of laughing freely, of being irresponsible, of matters that were trivial…of college gossips….
Of course during our yearly visit to hometown there was a revisiting of all relationships. Last year, I spoke to her, N, and she seemed genuinely happy, after a long and tiring upheaval in life.
And now this…Her husband, I just came to know, is no more. Why, is it that she of all people has to go through this…? I think of her kids and go cold…so young and N too…
Why is God so unfair?
I think of another incident, but then that is for another time…

A cry for help

2009-01-26T03:27:00.000-08:00

I have not blogged for some time as I have been bogged down with work! And now when the clouds have finally cleared, my companion for life is nowhere near. Now, I remember his refrains….Ones that used to irritate me when he voiced it but now, holds true. He used to say, “You don’t know how lucky you are…to have someone like me who dotes on you.”
Well, the doting used to get irritating at times, like when work got a bit overwhelming and classes got a bit tough, when kids were proving to be unbearable, when I wanted to talk to someone else other than him,…well, such instances were more and left me little time to devote time to this ‘man in my life’ which in effect left him fuming…
But now, when he has left for an official trip abroad, I find it difficult to handle the absence. The house is empty, the bed bare (not literally) and the silence (punctuated by the shrieks of the two imps) too long…
But the kids seem to be enjoying themselves…they were always naughty, now they have become more like terrorists, landing on me with a bump, hitting my nose in their fights and running havoc in the house. They think of me more in terms of their capture than their mother and even get me to dance for their fav numbers (I enjoy that bit, though…)
They have laid siege of our bed and sleep on either side with me as if blocking all ways of escape. At night, one throws an arm over while the other kicks me, the younger one pulls at my lips and the elder ones bones poke me in sensitive areas…
I will never complain of my husband or his wandering hands anymore, I vow!
Screaming obscenities, (the ones that they know) they make me run around for peace in my own house and when I scream at them, I can feel the loops stretching…the elastic limit has reached…the boiling point is nearing….I might burst any moment now…Help…

Half Century

2009-01-11T03:38:00.000-08:00

And finally, the 50th blog. I never thought this would grow beyond the second or the third one, so this is an instant to be proud of. When colleagues hit the 50th and then soon the 100th blog, I used to wonder, God, these talented gals, how do they do it?
This also seems to be the perfect time to show off my next award, one which was waiting for me behind the curtains, from Deeps and Just call me A…

This award was crafted with love, sprinkled with loads of peace and added with lots of prayers.

So I take a bow! (Is that the echo of claps that I hear! )

Hail Blogging!

2009-01-10T00:55:00.000-08:00

Blogging in Wikipedia is a Web site, usually maintained by an individual with regular entries of commentary, descriptions of events, or other material such as graphics or video.

Blog to me:
A diary of sorts, where I can pour out my happiness, my frustrations, my thoughts, where I contemplate on my shortcoming, lay my dreams bare, recount my memories, share it with a select sensitive few.
But lately, I am bugged by this new fixation…on checking for comments, so much so that it has become an addiction of sorts…
That’s makes me think…Am I so desperate for appreciation?…and why?

Blog to my husband:
The wife’s ‘time pass’ fixation, which he scoffs on, yet is proud about. He calls it an entire waste of time but reads it word to word, even asks why he is not mentioned in it, in places he thinks he should be!

Blog to my kids:
One is too young to worry while the other worries constantly if her mom is writing about all the times she has been ‘bad’ while she helps me in her own silent way...

Blog to my colleagues:
We lightheartedly comment, ‘Beware of what and how you react, you never know, you could be blogged about too.”

Blog to near and dear ones:
Another form of being in touch – of being reminded of those memories, long forgotten. Brushing aside the dust and revisiting the good old days…

Blog to those who peep and go away:
Whew, another self righteous female, pompous and so full of herself! There is nothing new here…lets move on! Just another of those who like to lay bare personal musings!

Blog to other blogger friends:
Another of our peers, and hey lets recognise this endeavour, for we know it is not a simple effort, to make time and to keep at it, make it interesting to all who read by adding certain elements and to keep blogging on matters that touch each one of us in our daily lives…

And where do you fit in?

Hopes...

2009-01-01T00:26:00.000-08:00

2008 came with a bang. We had a huge party, we danced into 2008. We laughed (high on what we had drunk) and welcomed the New Year. Going back home from the party, we fought (K and I) and from then it was mostly downhill…
I went through tough times at work. Alternating from depression…and a feeling of worthlessness…and for some time, I wallowed in self-pity.
But mid-way through (thanks to Ks persistence) I emerged from those trying times…And as a result of all this, I took up a course, to fight my worthlessness, so to say, and that has been the best decision that I took in 2008.
That and this blog…which A literally forced me to do…(I had started a blog earlier but wasn’t sincere in my efforts of maintaining it) …were my real achievements of this year. But this time I had A behind, prodding till I wrote…regularly. We patted each others back and that gave me the initial push and then viola, I was writing and enjoying myself too. (I strongly believe that appreciation is the best possible way to keep one going and hence the daily checking for comments…on the blog)

2009, though, started on a low-key. No music, no dancing, no drinks, a quiet dinner with friends and home early as all of us had to be in office the next day.
But I hope the year will be good to me, help me do whatever I am doing in the best possible way, be more strict on my kids and make them a little more tame (they are getting wild, by the day, the younger one mostly and I melt when she just looks at me accusingly…when she hears my ‘angry’ tone) be more assertive and critical, for more peace at home and for that I also need to appreciate my husband more, for who else keeps sending you SMSes after 14 years of togetherness…
And I hope this year, I will loose all the flab around my tummy, which I know, is an impossible task, but yet I dream…
P.S: My nephew took this picture and isn't it is a beautiful one...though a bit desolate...but isn't life like that, lonely at times.

Marching Past

2008-12-25T01:23:00.000-08:00

I recently went to my daughters annual day celebrations and was caught up in the excitement which seems to emanate from each of the participants, my young ones included. It took me back to my school days, about which my class mate, whom I met after a long gap of 20 years, just recently, who is also a great fan of my blogs (so he claims), has been constantly egging me to write about.
We were one of the first batches of the school so we were pretty passionate about the school. We were also in the school band, though now I feel embarrassed thinking how silly we would have looked, me clashing the cymbal and my friend, T, blowing the bugle! I used to alternate between the symbol and the flute and then it was a matter of pride for us but now when I think of the sight of me clashing the cymbal, I can’t help but laugh! Then, we were a privileged lot, we the band who always used to bring fame to the school, who had uniforms stitched every alternate year and could escape class hours for practise sessions under the hot sun! It was like a legacy of sorts, which I passed on to my sister, who also went on to become the band leader!
Of course, we had to bear the cost of the uniforms, but then the teachers would remind us, it is only those who are talented who gets chosen. (Talents for cymbal clashing! But I believed her then) So we would go home, implore, explain and then beg for the money which would be handed over after countless objections.
We had constant practises in formations and in March past and from what I could remember, we really used to enjoy all of it! The outings that we had, the competitions that we attended, the church functions, all in the heat and some even had hours of marching and long hours of waiting.
So the next time you see a band performing, don’t laugh it off, ponder on the hours of practice, the amount of money spent and then maybe even imagine me clashing the cymbal…(but I warn you, don’t laugh)

And Finally Recognition

2008-12-24T23:39:00.001-08:00

Today is Christmas and I woke up feeling happy for no obvious reason! I drove to office listening to music I love and hummed or rather sang loudly, boldly, as I always do when there is no one to listen! I entered office and whoopee! I was greeted by the Christmas decorations in office, and I almost hugged N, the person behind this cheer, this selfless soul, about whom, I should blog later…
But coming back to the decorations, there is a brightly lit X’mas tree, balloons, festoons and small gifts for all on our desks!
Well, I put on my computer, check mails and go to blogger and there lies another surprise, an award from Deeps…
It has made my day…the efforts have paid off…
I scrounge for time to write here and sometimes when I find the time I lack in ideas. Accepting my award I want to thank all my faithful readers, firstly my family, who have become my loyal readers, K for checking everyday whether I have scribbled anything about him, then friends who read and comment and then other blogger friends who so loyally read and encourage and here I want to thank Deeps and Reflections for the comments, because, honestly, ultimately it is the comments that you look forward to, when you sign in everyday! And both of you are so generous with them and it motivates me to write more...
Here is the award:

This award is given to a blog that invests and believes in PROXIMITY - nearness in space, time and relationships! These blogs are exceedingly charming. These kind of bloggers aim to find and be friends. They are not interested in prizes or self-aggrandizement. Our hope is that when the ribbons of these prizes are cut, even more friendships are propagated. Please give more attention to these writers! Deliver this award to eight bloggers who must choose eight more and include this cleverly-written text into the body of their award.
I pass this on to three bloggers whose blogs I try not to miss…
Umm Oviya
I,ME,MYSELF
And
Reflections

I also wish to pass on the award to one more blog which has huge potential but due to the responsible job of feeding and taking care of my sister, this blogger cannot dedicate much of his precious time to this world...
Error(b)log

This is Heavenly...

2008-12-16T00:04:00.000-08:00

Imagine…
Waking up to the sounds of chirping birds and the occasional shriek of crows
To temple bells tinkling rhythmically
Sniffing whiffs of strong and freshly brewed coffee
And drinking it from your favourite easy chair
Stretching out comfortably and gazing out at nothing in particular
Dreaming of the rest of the day spent in pure laziness…
Till interrupted by urgent calls from your little devils…

Being coaxed to eat a little more and being served a lot more, lovingly…
You are forced to go to bed to give your tired bones some respite!
The kids being admonished for troubling you
For taking long naps when the sun is shining down
Forget the process of cooking
To remember it only when it is time for your meals!

Where else is all this possible, but at Home…
Who tends to you like you are a kid once again, but your Mother…

P.S: Thats my fav 'charukaserra' or Reclining Chair...

The first stage show of N's

2008-12-05T02:25:00.000-08:00

This was the younger ones first stage appearance and both of us (K and I)just about managed to identify her before the show got over. Can you imagine, we were focusing on another kid who beared a resemblence to ours and focused all our energy, clicking pictures, smiling and waving at her till our elder one pointed out the right kid!We instantly shifted attention and thankfully we had some pictures of the 'right' and our very own kid.

Looking Back

2008-12-02T02:32:00.000-08:00

It is at the time of diversities that stories of courage, determination, selflessness and even patriotism comes to the fore. Such events like the Mumbai Terror Strike also highlight cowardice, lacklustre performance of our very dear politicians, the slipshod treatment of our security and our casual approach to humanity and mostly it puts light on the lack of crisis management in the country. I have tried to identify the good and the bad reactions to this crisis…I tag all who are reading to add on to the list…

A Kick in the Rear to
1. Lack of a plan to move forward. How come the NSG had no copy of the floor plan of the Taj when they went in for the rescue operation? How come there was no strategy in place…
2. Border security, do we have any? I wonder…
3. The state police face a major problem of shortage of firearms. One official said that although the state government had requested ammunition for training purposes, the Centre’s response was dismal. Why so?
4. The protection gear for NSG and also for the local police. Do we have a safety system at all? Are their lives of no value?
5. RR Patel and his insensitive reaction , ‘Hotharahthahe…’ Bullshit, is this how a leader who has the responsibility of the whole state comments…on such a serious matter!
6. Vilasrao Deshmukh for his thoughtless act of including filmstars and directors to the tour of Taj…and even later for not understanding what the entire furore was about!
7. Some media personnel, Barkha Dutt, in particular for being crass in the way she spoke to the victims or their relatives and also for sensationalising the whole issue.

A Pat on the Back to
1. Those faceless brave hotel officials for keeping their cool and guiding their valuable assets…their guests. Shouldn’t we be taking lessons from them?
2. NSG , what they lacked in planning they made up with their brave actions.
3. I also laud our Mumbaikars for keeping calm and not let their emotions guide their actions but verbally expressing their disappointment in the country and its leaders.
4. The announcer at CST for warning the civilians from keeping away from the platform as he saw the shooting from his vantage point and thereby saving numerous lives.
5. To the policemen, who killed one of the two terrorist after they ran out post the CST incident and the killing of 55 innocents, at Girgaum Chowpatty, and injured the other who is now the only alive and caught terrorist.

Why?

2008-11-29T01:47:00.000-08:00

I am devastated. I am not a Mumbaikar, not in the true sense of the word. I have lived and worked there only after my marriage, so it would be apt to call it my sasural! But I love the city, I love the efficiency of the people, the systems, the public transport. I love the way the city embraces all yet leaves you to be yourself, giving you the freedom yet drawing you into all its activities. It is a city you can’t help but love.
And I am shocked into inaction...
Wwhy target the wonderful spirit of this beautiful city (or any city for that matter) and the innocent people? Why?
I salute all the officers, from all over the country,( and not just the Marathi’s) who have laid down their lives fighting the terrorists, heroically. My deepest sympathies to all those who suffered, Hindus, Muslims, Jews, rich and poor, and I hope this will not have any major repercussions resulting in more lives being lost over causes long forgotten. I hope Mumbai rises above all this…stronger, resilient, secular and of course secure.

Of Great Projects and Greater Minds

2008-11-24T09:05:00.001-08:00

The last few days have been hectic but they have been immensely satisfying too. First I get to see a building, I have admired and to top it all, I get to see the Architect behind this great master piece, the great IM Pei. Seeing this great man and understanding this simple philosophy in design, I was transformed to the world of architecture, my first love and that made me reflect...and finally decide, that I have taken the right step.
Time and again, I have had guilty pangs, for having made a choice -- for moving away from Architecture, my profession, to Journalism.
But at that moment when I was standing close to Mr Pei at the atrium in the Museum, I felt truly gratified.
Yes, this was what I wanted...to understand people, their talents and when it is an architectural maestro, whom you try to understand, you feel even more blessed by the profession you have chosen as your own.
Yes, it has its bad moments, but in which other profession do you get to meet such talents?
And I am humbled for all I get to see and experience here.
The angles, the geometry that is not strictly symmetrical, the play of the sun through the roof, the long stretch of space, both vertical and horizontal, the huge window and the calm waters behind...All this and Pei posing for our cameras on the winding staircase, one straight stance before he leans on to his cane (he is all of 92 years) and his simple comment, "This (the Museum) was a learning experience for me."
I had another 'high' that day. I also met my professor (whom I met after 20 years) and we talked about the building, with the same enthusiasm, we had years before, when she was the teacher and I was the student. Only this time around, I explained details and she was listening. It was another humbling moment...

Dostana

2008-11-17T11:23:00.000-08:00

It sure is not great just a 'watchable' one . A movie comprising of 2 beautiful bodies and one great talent, Abhishek...
Entertaining it is but well that is all. A hollow movie with loads of money spent on creating beautiful shots of near perfect bodies. I was confused through out the movie, I couldn't decide where to keep my eyes, on Priyanka or the 'dumb'looking hot body of John. In the end, I decided on Abhishek, he was the only one who really acted! And a much safer decision too!

Lets Count our blessings

2008-11-15T10:10:00.000-08:00

All of us worry over details, minor ones, money lost or spent, the missing file, the class missed by our daughters, the marks they have lost and the how they react to us or others. I do too, I worry endlessly over minute issues and miss the whole macro picture -- The wonderful day we have had today, the smile from our loved ones, and the sun shining down upon us...
Till this Thursday...when I was jolted out of my obsession over minor challenges in life. We were at a friend's place,enjoying ourselves, just talking, when a lady and her 3 daughters made an entry. The youngest of the three was the most striking with a huge endearing smile on her face, that made you want to hug her. She was in my younger ones class and that made me want to know more about the kid and the mother and hence I started a conversation with her. It seemed difficult, because the lady was obviously very troubled about something. She semed tired, stressed out and even jerky when reacting to any queries.
I asked her how she felt about the class in general, (the perfect way to break the ice) but she replied that her child was not too regular going to the school as she was sick most of the time. I nodded in agreement and told her aout N's constant bouts of cold. She had a pained expression in her face and told us that her 4 year old was suffering from Leukaemia. I felt myself go cold, well, it wasn't just me, I could feel the silence and the shock, moving like a thick blanket, around the room...
And she said that, that particular day was quite bad with her blood count slightly low. Well, yes, I know, this is what happens around us, but ón a 'normal' Thursday night, when you meet a 'normal' four year who is suffering from this deadly disease, you are, struck dumb!
This made me reflect on my list of worries...which looks small, even tiny and worthless...
Life is so precious, lets celebrate each moment of it, enjoy the nuances of life, talk to our husbands, look into their eyes and talk, kiss our kids once more, hug them a lot more and be happy with we have.
Lets also pray for this tiny child, who has no clue of what ails her, just wants to go to school regularly, play with kids her age...

Quirks and so many!

2008-11-13T04:30:00.000-08:00

I could fill pages with quirks, mine and of others, but I feel it depends from person to person. A quirky behaviour in one could seem perfectly normal to another. But still here are some weird ones…and they are all mine…
1. Give me a good book and a comfortable sofa, you will see me relaxing on the sofa with my feet tucked underneath, a tilt to my head and my hand twirling a few handful of my hair, while reading. I even twirl my hair when I am thinking hard.
2. I have this habit of collecting titbits with a tissue, wiping any surface clean, even while I go to friend’s house, if I am doing nothing. I just can’t rest my hands.
3. My husband puts the water heater on and I can’t help myself being pulled by that red light and in few minutes I am heading towards it to put it off.
4. Reading in the loo…And that is my favourite, don’t think it is a quirk, it is absolutely normal to many, I am sure.
5. The minute my husband heads out of the house, my hands reach for the cell and I end up calling my mother! Another quirk which I love to indulge in and on the sly…

Book Tag from Quite Qatar

2008-11-12T02:23:00.000-08:00

How old were you when you learned to read and who taught you?My father taught me to read and that is what I want to believe, since he is not around to verify. I must have been six years old and I remember reading a book called Chutput the Train, and it was a beautiful book with loads of illustrations. I still have the book with me but sadly, both my daughters have no great love for books.

Did you own any books as a child? If so, what's the first one that you remember owning? If not, do you recall any of the first titles that you borrowed from the library?My father used to buy me loads from the second-hand books store. I remember them being Enid Blyton books mostly. The Mallory Towers Series were my favourites.

What's the first book that you bought with your own money?A double digest of St Claire’s, if I remember right and I bought it during the book fair which happens once a year in my place. I waited till my holidays to read the book and I loved the waiting period, it augmented the pleasure I had when I finally read it!

Were you a re-reader as a child? If so, which book did you re-read most often?
Of course, I love re-reading, especially ones I like. Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice was my favourite.

What's the first adult book that captured your interest and how old were you when you read it?I was fascinated by Sidney Sheldon and would guiltily gobble all the details when I was in my eight standard or so.

Are there children's books that you passed by as a child that you have learned to love as an adult? Which ones?
I have not passed by any book, I would read anything that came my way and I still love the variety. Well, Asterix was one comic I didn’t like much when I was young, but I love them now.

Will you tell this to your kids?

2008-11-09T03:26:00.000-08:00

My mother is pleasantly surprised by my mothering instincts, she tells me. I was the independent, selfish one of the family. Independent because I was staying away from home for my Engineering and selfish because I used to miss all those family functions for my studies and even insisted on going on study tours instead of rushing back home.. Nobody in the family understood the importance of sessionals then! (Now we all know how important that can be!)
I was the one who used to shirk filling in Amma’s place at her creshe, taking care of the babies there, when she wanted to go out for some important work. I hated the smells and was bored to wits, feeding the kids there and made my displeasure evident!
And look at her, now, Amma would say, gesturing to me when I followed my younger one patiently to feed her.
Our mothers know we have changed for our kids, but do our own kids ever know? Are they aware of the metamorphosis we go through being a mother?
Well, if they would listen, I could go on listing the changes, the sacrifices, the pains I have gone through all for the joy of motherhood, to see that special smile on their face, to bring that extra twinkle in their eye. Let me list them and hope they might see it sometime or just jot it down for all the mothers who have done all this and more…

I love kids now, just to watch them and surprisingly not just mine and that is a change only my young ones could have brought over me.
Patience, is one virtue, I have gained through all the experience of rearing my two.
The sleepless nights, when I have carried them, trying to put them to sleep.
The younger one was very particular, she wanted me to carry her and walk around the house to put her to sleep and she would kick me, when I stopped walking.
And when I hummed, sleepily, she would say, Amma, please don’t sing, embarrassing the singer in me!
The numerous times when she threw up on my head and shoulders, I wanted to cringe and scream aloud, my frustration, but kept my mouth shut, so as not to provoke K who hates to see me disturbed.
The meals I have missed in my effort to feed them first.
The accidents I have barely avoided, in my hurry to reach home before she does to see her smile when she gets down from the school bus.
Missing the career ladder, the ladder, which I forgot even, existed.

None of this was forced down, well, some were, but all of these changes were my own choice and I still don’t regret doing any of them.
Well, there are many more experiences and some so much personal; I can’t even jot them down. But will they realise this …our kids…ever. But, I suppose, they shouldn’t…for how will they face the world, marriage and their own kids with an open mind.

The Engineering Side of it

2008-11-03T03:37:00.000-08:00

My hands are itching to compose a letter and give a piece of my mind to this self-absorbed Engineer who has gone to great lengths to bring another guy down. I am part of the engineers yahoo group id, as I too (unfortunately) am part of the Engineering community and have seen various funny mails, from describing events they have boringly conducted with numerous following mails, all echoing, ‘kudos to the team, kudos to Engineers Forum EF’, some forwards of articles by ‘fellow Engineers’. I have been refereed to as Ms S while all the male counterparts are only addressed as Eng K or Eng Z. I have protested (only because I have taken the degree not that I like the ring of Eng before my name) and they have feigned ignorance. But all that is perfectly forgivable but this -- definitely not!
A much elderly person at EF sent a group mail with the CV of his son-in-law and requested others to look out for job prospects for his son-in-law. He also mentioned that his s-in-law had published some paper in IEEE. The next day, our intelligent, concerned Electrical Engineer replied, on the same group mail, that he checked the IEEE paper and the guy’s name was not mentioned. He also went on to say that it is not easy to get your paper published in IEEE as it involves a lot of ‘work’. The senior person instantly apologised and said it was wrong information and gave some clarifications. The point here is, yes, it is wrong to give a false data, but is humanitarian to point it out to that person in confidence, not to humiliate him in a public group mail and cause more embarrassment to him.
But I was heartened to read a ‘very sensible’ Engineer’s comment,
“Obviously you were more concerned for the greater good of Electrical Engineers worldwide. You missed the paper on common sense....Might as well do some research on that.”
I am happy to find that there few Engineers who are sensible, bold and sarcastic too!
Kudos, kudos!

Azad Lane

2008-10-30T01:02:00.000-07:00
When I was young, this was something I used to boast about. Imagine living in a lane that is named after your grandfather! I don't think anyone paid much attention then but now I do want to brag and let the whole world (or to all those unsuspecting ones who read my blogs) know, that yes, my grandfather had a whole road dedicated to him.
But this is not just on that but on the things have changed there, at Azad Lane. This was the most peaceful area in Kottayam, we had all the advantage of living right at the heart of town, with the great Thirunakkara temple a furlong away, and yet we were away from the hustle bustle of traffic.
Azad lane connected two main roads and was a broad tarred one with few shops on either side of it. Yes, there was a shop, which kept sweets (the loose ones, no branded ones then) and bananas. This was strictly a residentional area with houses on either sides, the only big ones being our cousins at the beginning of the lane and then Pukalacaut way down. There was only one office here and it was ours, a big building with a press behind. It was called the Cinema Masika Building and this compound was fairly crowded with workers and film boxes. But soon even that became a thing of past. There was a workshop on the left of the office and our Maths tution Sir lived just beyond this. Well, he was one charachter, who didn't opened his mouth (he chewed paan and sometimes he had his mouth full of paan spit!uggh) nor smiled, just scribbled out problems on our notebooks and withered us with his looks. His scribblings ranged from faint noiseless ones when he was happy with our mathematical skills to noisy angry and huge engraving (he has torn pages with the force he wrote) when he was angry with our efforts. Thinking back, he resembled one of the teachers at Harry Potter's Hoghwarts school of witchcraft but he was a good soul and that all of us knew.
Down further was the Chellapaan Bhavani teacher's dance class. All of us girls had to endure the dance classes, though we had varing abilities, from my mother who was a very good dancer, my sister who was good too, to me with my two left feet and always a source of embarassement for I was constantly reminded of moms skills in class.
Well, thats it, this was Azad lane, 25 years ago.
Now this 120meter long road is the busiest road with 2 hospitals, 5-10 shops, lesser residences and numerous offices, facing it. (all this in a 120 meter long road)
It has its advantages, the land price is quite high as there is not an inch available and you can rush to the hospital for emergencies, but they end there, the advantages, I mean.
It is difficult to drive and to walk through this busy 'intersection' with the auto drivers ruling majority of the road space.
Azad Lane has become a difficult place to live with all the facilities available right there and that is the irony!

Happy 10th Birthday, Bloggerworld

2008-10-28T02:26:00.000-07:00
Imagine, bloggers have been doing this for 10 years. And initially it was the world the NERDS used to frequent, an imaginary coccon, which has grown so much that it has ordinary folks like me writing in it and exploring the fun of expressing online. While I have been at it for less than a year, I know of people who have confidently written for years and do it far more professionally.
But then, this world, is one which doesn't require us to be professional, does it?Isn't this one medium where you can write any damn thing? I see it as a diary of sorts, which can be viewed by a select group who love to read it. We are not writing reports, there is no oath of authenticity but a sharing of views or opinions, a sounding board of sorts, where we can sound off our fears, our faults and even gloat over some personal truimphs.
Read this for some great insights into the world of blogs, for some definitions of blogging ranging from the universe of rumours to blogs being only as good as the information presented.
It is this that made me reflect that the world of blogging is not what it is to me, it is also about having diverse viewpoint on a matter of global importance and in some cases have also helped in bringing out to the open many crucial issues like the instance when the sheer number of bloggers writing about public affairs had a transformative impact on Chinese politics. (though not much!)
So for all those who are writing in this medium for various reasons of their own, Happy Blogging for many more years.

Crossing All The Limits

2008-10-27T06:47:00.000-07:00
I felt this was coming! Call it sixth sense or plain common sense or just knowing your colleagues, I knew this was coming. This issue of ‘understanding’ and being in a multi-cultural organisation, works only one way and it is their way…
All of us work in an organisation and understanding others cultures is a way of life, or at least a way of our working life. We empathise with them on their cultural issues, ask, discuss, give vent to our doubts and genuinely participate in all the regional, religious and cultural events with as much enthusiasm as we can muster. So for once, we thought, it was time we are understood. So we organise a small party for Diwali and call the gang for a small ‘food’ party at our pantry.
And then what I had sensed would happen, happened. Some prominent members of our team just disappeared at that time, conveniently and didn’t answer calls too. And surprisingly, when they came, they just had the food and walked out as if this doesn’t affect them at all; all this party had nothing but the food on offer!
All of us were angry, yes. But some of them felt, well they had the food, so what is the big deal, which is when, a colleague, pointed out, ‘If you are invited for lunch, do you come for dinner?’
Yes, they did this and deliberately, I am sure, and it all shows at their lack of professionalism and maturity to survive in a multi-cultural society.
I feel proud of myself and the small group of ‘US’ here, who have adjusted, forgiven and gone ahead with life, taking lessons from all this and again prepare for future Eid parties! Though I would say, there is a limit to this pampering of egos (I do that too often…) and the limit has been crossed.

Why?

2008-10-26T05:47:00.000-07:00
Why don’t I feel strongly enough about any issue? Is it that I lack the initiative or is it that I feel being moderate is safe? Why is that I always take the easier way out instead of the difficult hard-to-tread path of oppositions?
No, not that I am afraid of consequences, but I hate to rock a boat that has been sailing smoothly. Is it because I like to see life without major upturns or upheavals and like to peacefully co-exist with all that is going around?
When my colleagues respond about the issues that affect the world or just them, I sit and read and agree silently, most of the time, until I feel so strongly about the matter that I DO react, by blogging…
Why do I have no complaints to take up with my daughter’s teacher? I am happy with the way they have been teaching our kids and just want them (both the kids and the teacher) to be in sync. My husband, went a step ahead and praised the teacher, (at a recent PT meeting) he has taken lessons from his PR department, I guess.
I feel strongly about how single ‘un-kept’ Asian men are shooed away from malls here but my feelings don’t matter, nor do the feelings of tons of citizens, who have been reacting quite openly in the papers, and are met, with no reactions, positive or otherwise. Now I ask quite plaintively, why?

Technology!

2008-10-19T06:06:00.000-07:00
I am still in awe of all this:
1. The web wide world, how open we have become and how a message is conveyed across the seas with just a click!
2. Planes and flying: Even now when I look up to the skies and see the large aircraft soaring towards the skies, defying all laws of gravity, with all the tiny pins holding those massive giants together...I am wonder struck!
3. Television: How it brings to you news, stories and what not from around the world.
4. Of the Search Engine, say Google: How it gets you all the information you want…
There are much more, but these are the ones I am aware, day in and day out, and that makes me revel on the wonders of mankind!
For all the technological advances we have made, I feel the internet surpasses all, for how else would you be reading this?

A small step for a better future?

2008-10-11T03:15:00.000-07:00
I am proud. Proud to be part of a great step taken for a greater good. To be part of a process that is the first of such initiatives take here in the country. I am sure, noone of us, knew the implications when all this started out. This was initially seen more as a marketing venture or a brand building activity and that the awards were much more than that is what makes me proud. The effects of this will bear fruit and benefit us over a longer period and we can hope for positive steps from various insitutions and maybe even from the Governement. I am proud, because this is one cause I believe firmly in...in giving back to the environment, for all the benefits we have reaped from it.
I am proud because as the lights dimmed and the BBC video depicting mankind’s comercialisation of nature, its implications with experts commenting on what is in store if we continue this onslaught was shown, I realised that one of the experts who commented, David Suzuki, an expert environment activist, was someone I had interviewed two years back.
This is what I love about the job, how, through such small steps we continue to positively affect the masses (I know I am going a bit over board but well, atleast the readers).

Pooja

2008-10-08T02:53:00.000-07:00
This is that time of the year we loved, the two days when we were asked not to study!. Just imagine, mothers, pleading with kids to stop reading…! Well, that happened just once a year and it is during Navarathri, when we keep our books for pooja.
We four, would cover our books, the textbooks we found most difficult to comprehend, in an old newspaper and write our names prominently outside (the thought of not getting the book back was frightening) and then walk to our temple.
The walk was a joyous, carefree one. We contemplated on what to do the next day. We avoided reading huge posters and feigned horror (we imagined the Gods would punish us if we broke the custom) when we did. The jokes were fresh and the laughter uninhibited. We hummed songs and almost danced our way to the temples, where the final act of handing over the books to our Gods took place. Once that was done we breathed even more freely, revelling in the fact that the Gods would take all our issues under his folds and solve towering History and Science problems and with that conviction we enjoyed our redemption from books.
We had also come to the conclusion that the 2nd day was the shortest day of the year. How the day flew past! It was difficult too since we couln't read anything (and the no TV at home too and even if we could watch it Pukalacaut, there was just DD1)...and we invariably broke that rule, imagine how can you not read the paper, atleast the headlines!
No books, no angry looks from our mother or insulting jabs at our irresponsible lazing around. .
And the next day morning, the same ritual walk to the temple, this time the treads were heavier and the looks a wee bit sad. After scrambling for the packet of books from the heap that had collected, we walked back home and opened our books and studied intensely, and loudly, as if making up for the hours we had lost and also in the hopes that the books coming back from the Gods sanctuary would give us extra memorising powers.
Do you remember, M,S and R?

Expressions I love

2008-10-05T23:56:00.000-07:00
The gleam of cunningness in her eyes, when she intends to lie and get away
The slight curl of the lips
Then the victory reflected in her eyes…
All of these on my tiny four-year-old’s face
Makes me want to squeeze her and somehow capture all these fleeting emotions into my heart,
But I put on a stern face to scold her
And then the victory gleam in her eyes dissolves into submission
A sad and ashamed expression pleading mercy
I fall prey to her game and leave her
Then I see the cunning, victorious look…
And I know she has conned me again!
But this time I have let her, to see, yet again, all the expressions I love.

Expectations and meeting them

2008-10-05T00:47:00.000-07:00
Friends and expectations. Should one go with the other or do they never go together?
Should we expect more because he or she is a friend or less because we understand and vice-versa?
I am confused. Because that is what it has boiled down to, expectations and then when they are not met, disappointments.
You expect friends to remember birthdays, because you keep a tab on theirs too and memorise theirs and their kids bdays too.
Then when you go on trips, you expect to go in a group and when that dosen't materialise, because your husband works, or because the others are going on another trip the next day, you feel left-out. You feel more so when noone remembers to ask you to tag along with kids(more so because you have always been extra careful and sensitive and asked the wives and the kids to join in when the husbands aren't around). Again disappointment!
This is how I see the whole picture, you aren't a S or an A, but a Mrs.K and when the male counterpart isn't around, you just don't exist!
So friends are all good, when you move as a group, but the minute you are just a S, you have few to fall back on.
This is what I meant in my earlier blog on friends and the lack of good friends, friends who like me for what I am and not because I am someone's wife.
Not to forget the lesson learnt from all these -- the lesser you expect, the lesser disappointed you feel. And this goes for all relations, not just friends.

We share the spirit, but do you?

2008-09-29T00:51:00.000-07:00
Well, Eid is finally here and this year I intend to wish all my Arab colleagues (and non-Arab ones too) and suddenly I realise that I do it every year! So what is different this year!
We eat behind closed doors during Ramadan (but we don't forego food!), we have an Iftaar party, and I get a bout of indigestion after it( for eating at odd hours, my stomach is quite sensitive too, you know), we enjoy the lesser hours at work, and suffer when work has to be completed in these lesser working hours, we go to Sohours and I again suffer from indigestion...all keeeping with the spirit of Ramadan.
But, don't get me wrong, I truly appreciate the spirit behind all of this too, and even know why it is being done, the basics, to get me going...I know that this was the time when the holy Quran was revealed and hence celebrated every year.
After all this, someone has the nerve to comment that many who live here are still not aware of the customs here! Well, I might have stammered while I wished Ramdan Kareem, but that was only because I thought it was wrong to wish when one is fasting...
And have they, ever wished us during our festivals. Agreed that we have too many and it is confusing to remember all, but once, atleast once, take the trouble of wishing us and celebrating with us.
And is that asking for more?

Am I taking the right path?

2008-09-27T04:34:00.000-07:00
As a mother, I have left all assignments on the elder one to do it herself. She manages it quite well, I am proud to say, she is responsible. We fill in only when she asks for help, though I do crib about that, too, since she calls us only at the last instant.
And today at the school exhibition, I was stunned, more by the labour parents have put in than by genuine kiddish efforts on the project.
The kids, the poor ones, were good by themselves, trying to explain everything verbally, but some of the projects, were truly the hard work of parents and in some cases even by carpenters or model makers at their best!
In an effort to be better than the rest, it is the parents who take it on themselves to finish the work of the students, and then some efforts like my kids does seem a little childish in the whole perspective of exhibits, though that is what these projects should reflect.The School should give projects, which needs only the efforts of the kids, and different ones for kids of their age and hence judge each kid on purely their own skills...
I am not the one to sermon, for I think it is more of guilt that is speaking, for I have not helped much to make the project a little more professional. Or is this a genuine process on my effort to make her more independent!
I am not sure, but the next project, I intend to do something more, though I am proud with what she did, since it was all her idea and her hard work.

Tears...of joy, pain, pride and umpteen other reasons

2008-09-23T04:22:00.000-07:00
Hurdles...they pull me down,be it a critisim, a death, an illness at home, a vague comment, an unintentional or intentioanl jab...well all of them affect me and after all these years. Have I not matured, am I too weak, or am I just normal?
Normal, I certainly am not...
Not with the tears, I shed daily, for such mundane things on the Television, while watching a touching movie or even a patriotic one to other more reasonable reasons of kids making me proud and the death of a near relative.
I have tried with the 'I am not bothered' attitude, to the 'this is not real' logical thought. But the tears cant be contained, though I have mastered the art of hiding them from my elder daughters suspicious and sometimes teasing glances. (KK has given up, now he is sympathetic to the point of getting huge towels to wipe them off)
Here I have to tell you about my younger one, who understands my weakness yet comforts me and wipes my tears, when nobody looks our way.
But what do I do when these tears crop up at other instances, when they make me look utterly foolish and unprofessional?
I know all the logical facts, even the cosmic thoughts of being detached is thought of(but not practised...)but the flow dosen't ebb!
Any suggestions?

Amachi...this is for you

2008-09-17T03:52:00.001-07:00
For the most beautiful lady, for her knowledge, for her strength, for her small pranks and her smile…this is for you…all our love and may you be happy wherever you are…
She had done it all, and she was waiting to go peacefully, and she did just that.
From writing a book on Saibaba to singing beautiful lullabies, coping with the loss of her elder son and then later a much loved grand daughter, she had gone through all the highs and lows of life…
She had her idiosyncrasies, but at her age (she was 84) even that can be seen as allowable.
She was always up to date on all matters worldwide, she knew all that was happening around her and could read any book, she laid eyes on. Though she never liked the television, for all the gory stories that it portrayed, she didn’t distance herself from it too… She could talk on varied subjects but there was no way one could influence her, for she held to her choices.
She had her faults, she had her favourites, and she lived by her own rules, but she was still so full of love.
Amachi…adieu…

Holiday Season

2008-09-11T02:28:00.000-07:00
Today a cousin is getting married. He was one of the youngest; we were closer to his mother… He was just a kid to us, and so this day makes me feel quite old…
Chenamangalam, where the marriage is being held, holds quite a few memories, of holiday seasons…of temple utsavs and fun -- complete and pure.
Back then we used to spend our summer holidays there and then Chenamangalam was just a village, an idyllic one where the only activity was associated with the temple, the utsavam and a yearly market festival.
We were four to five cousins all girls together for our holidays and every single day had its highlight. We used to take our daily bath together at the kollam which was beside the house. The kollam is a semi-closed structure with steps leading down to the pond and I can guarantee that none of the swimming pools can evoke that comfortable feel of these homely kollams. And our morning sessions were usually an hour or two long and had to be ended after a long sermon from the mothers. Once we even sighted a small snake floating right past us and I still remember how all of us ran out, without even bothering to look back for our sisters…with just a towel around… frightened out of our wits.
The temple festivals were the next fascination. The daily programmes of Kathakali and other dance drama and the more popular ganamela were feasts we looked forward to. Once our cousin and his friends had come there along with their troupe of singers and we had a field day…sitting next to the musicians, the privilege that gave us over the rest.
Next came the occasional treats to the local theatre, a thatched roof structure with the movie projected on a white background. The movie, oldies, but still exciting for us to sit on benches and watch movies in all abundance, clapping loudly when the hero enters to singing along with the heroine and cursing the villain when he plots villainously.
Oh! such carefree days…were time never mattered and the days streaked with fun and few fights and the nights with lots of gossiping and late night confessions.
Those were the times and as we grew older, the magic reduced and there was no more holiday season fun. The village is no longer a village, technology made its regular imprint and we are left with just memories of the bygone days…

A matter of restriction

2008-09-10T03:32:00.000-07:00
This is what a newly acquired friend Hassnaa who has incidentally written this report meant, when she said, that there were far more important issues that the S government had to achieve than allowing the women to drive, removing the dress code for women. To drive and own a car was not at all important, she said, considering the larger much grim picture. And this is the larger picture she meant, where the mother cannot have the custody of her children in case of a divorce. Even if she is earning and is capable of looking after her wards.
But there are much more that has been not published…and some which have been, but with worse consequences.
Remember the shocking incident when a 19 year old was gang raped and victim was sentenced last year to 90 lashes for meeting with an unrelated male. The seven rapists, who abducted the pair, received sentences ranging from 10 months to five years in prison. When the victim appealed, the judges more than doubled the punishment for the victim because of "her attempt to aggravate and influence the judiciary through the media.”
Can it get more shocking than this?

The treats we miss

2008-09-08T00:32:00.000-07:00
Todays eating interlude at office took me back to my grand mothers kitchen! The treats she used to keep ready for us when we got back from school. Diamond cuts dipped in sugar syrup and fried to perfection, ada's , two varieties...one covered in leaf and the other as kozhukatta, which was my favourite. These were the evening treats while the afternoon lunch had all the mouth watering dishes and in huge quantities to feed an army, well, almost. And an army of guests we had, then...
There were workers from the press, who used to eat here constanly...it must have been their working contract! To have home-made food at the boss's home along with the paypacket, is indeed a good deal, but I wonder if this was a deal but just a convenience which was used by the most needy ones. These were the constants and we had so many other unannounced guests, who my grandfather used to bring along, unannounced and my grandmom, serve them as generously as possible. From agents, well-known filmstars to aspiring ones, directors - young and old, all frequent guests for lunch or dinner and my grandmom, the perfect hostess. I can't actually recollect her eating, she was the last person to eat and there was never a complaint for all the work done.
But all good things come with a time limit...they are then better as memories...
With the death of my grandfather and the closing of the press and the magazines, the constant guest list ebbed. Soon everyone who had either eaten from our kitchens or used my grandfathers contacts to go up the ladder in life, forgot the good food and the helpful gestures from the finest person ever in the film fratenity (not my words, exactly, but words from P.Bhaskaran, the erstwhile lyricist and director of yesteryears) and went on with the life of fitting into other roles in the cellulioid screen...
But how can we forget our grand mother, who later lived a bitter life. The effects of that sudden change --from a being the provider to a reciever...
Through all this, she didn't disappoint us, her grand children. Till her death, she made it a point to cook these perfect small rounds of kozhukattas, whenever I went home for my holidays and the taste lingers on my tongue...

Precious Two

2008-09-03T03:45:00.000-07:00
I am amazed daily. By my two daughters and how each incident, each gesture carries a different message to both of them. The girls both somehow a part of me, but so different, in the way they think, act and even look.
The elder makes me proud, while the younger makes me laugh, at her, and at others and life in general.
The elder one, so creative, she amazes me with the curves of her confident strokes, how she uses each second of her time to make something new, ideas that bring tears of pride in my eyes.
The younger one, always active, runs about, destroying the very efforts of her sister and then says apologises, ever so convincingly that her sister forgives her too!
The elder one with her dress sense, so correct, that I can't but help myself learning from her.
The lessons the younger one trys to give to the elder while she goes about following none.
The elder one, so absent-minded and insensitive, that I wish I could get her to emote a little more.
The younger, the constant helper, who spills and at that instant gets the broom to wipes it all clear, her face so full of remorse that you fall prey to her charms.
Both of them, so different yet at some instant, when they hug and laugh at their pranks, so similar...
Gems, two sparkling ones and they are mine, more precious than all the diamonds...

A New Beginning

2008-09-03T03:39:00.000-07:00
When the last bit of sunshine flows out
Then seeps in the mysterious dark
Like a veil of gloom, shrouding the colours
Bright greens washed by rain, slushy yellow mud ponds, endless blue of the sky
All now just a pit of unfathomable depth

Streetlights cast shadows long and shaky
The yellows casting a pattern on the road
Of shadows light, dark and sinister
The far longer ones dancing in anticipation
Baffling and hesitant they frame the picture of night

But, worry, I will not
For there right behind, comes the sun
Bringing with it the light of life
Kissing the buds to flowers, drying the tears from the stalks of green
A new beginning of happiness and shine.

Most Cherished

2008-08-31T04:27:00.000-07:00
I am trying to recall all the wonderful moments in my life and the list seems endless…
But there is one memory that is crystal clear, even with the passage of time...a memory that I hold dear and that surpass all …

This is when I was studying in Kudremukh, so I must have been in my 4th std.
As I was walking outside my classroom, I get a small tap on my head
I turn around surprised and find my father smiling down at me…

That was and still is the happiest moment in my life.
Though I wish with all my heart…it could happen again…just once I wish…

As they say, life is in the small gestures that leave an impression, even when and maybe more so as the person is so far away from you…yet the memories are strong and they seem to live on.

Words that click

2008-08-31T04:26:00.000-07:00
Parts from ‘Vanishing Acts’ by Jodi Picoult on losing your daughter…could associate so much with it that I had to write it down….

When you are pregnant, you can think of nothing but having your body to yourself again; yet after giving birth you realize that the biggest part of you is somehow external, subject to all the dangers of the world, so you spend the rest of your life trying to figure out how to keep her close enough for comfort.
That’s the strange thing about being a mother, until you have a baby, you don’t realize how much you are missing one.

Beautiful words, isn’t it?

Giving way to Tempation

2008-08-30T02:52:00.000-07:00
But I gave way to temptation, I did...I sat under the sun, gazing at the sea (in-between the overt peeks at the bodies in abundance, both male and female...)and I loved it! It sure was bliss!
And I have to train my mind to do this difficult task of just doing nothing...
Us women are constantly on our toes, all our lives, be it tending to homes or the husbands and later on the kids... constantly on the move, working...at home, in office and we completely forget to enjoy ourselves.
Living lifes for others, have become our way of life, so much so that we have forgotten what it is to just let go...
But let go I did and enjoyed each moment of it...
Finally and without an inch of guilt...I enjoyed the sun and the ambience. Thank you Chedi and Amouage and finally my job... for giving me this...

Perfect Setting

2008-08-26T02:44:00.001-07:00
I have always asked myself, what would I love to do, and in between the chaos at home I used to think of loneliness like a thirty crow dreams for a puddle of water...
And here I am in the most comfortable setting, The Chedi Muscat, and I yearn for the comfort of the sounds of fighting.
It is not the surrounding, it is just what I would have designed, I think...the interplay of the inside with the outside, long courtyards, surronding water space and the link to the sea through these water bodies, it is heavenly...
Unlike the tall towers in Doha, this places takes up more land, spreading itself comfortably into the shape of the landscape at ground level. It is at night though that the beauty is truly exposed through lightings, placed in intelligent nooks...it is one of the most romantic setting, that i have ever seen...
But there is one hitch...it is in the wrong place...and I am here at the wrong time...It is so humid outside u can't even take a single picture without the lens getting misty...
For the westerns, the heat and the sunshine is pure joy, ofcourse, coming from a land where the sun is a luxury, but me, coming from places where there is no shortage of this commodity, I have more than I want. To endure the heat and sit gazing at the sea and the surrounding though tempting, coz of the scantily clad bodies already there, is not my cup of tea...
And so here I am in my room, freezing, on my computer and talking about the sounds that I miss, already.

Comfort comes with a tummy

2008-08-25T14:37:00.000-07:00
It happened yet again. The sly look, the understanding nod and the final question, “are you pregnant?”
I squirm in embarrassment but stoically put on a ‘don’t care’ air and say, “Oh, no, it is my tummy.”
There I get my satisfaction, a revenge of sorts for publically commenting on a private part (a part I hold sacred, for it doesn’t diminish …and it held two wonderful human specimens in its folds…or pinnacles to be more specific).
To see the discomfort of the person who asked the question, is a pleasure…They go overboard with their apologies, their explanations, some of which makes me want the earth to rip open at that instant and swallow me up along with the culprit.
Thankfully, all this lasts only for a few minutes, these remarks don’t even leave a lasting impression on my state of mind (like my husband and some close friends would want it to be). For none of this gets me to budge from my state of laziness, the comfort in being the same me with the same protruding tummy…

A new Love

2008-08-18T04:03:00.000-07:00
I really can’t understand this. This sudden love for music. The same person who used to change the channel when there was a song being shown on TV, never hum even in his bath or listen to a beautiful song without doing something else along with it, here he is now sitting still in our living room with an expression of pure amazement! Closing his eyes, as if in a trance and slowly moving with the music. This man who can only sing tunelessly, here he is humming under his breadth, thoroughly enjoying himself…
He beckons with his eyes, imploring me to sit and listen! I comply though my mind aches to protest…
He is listening to the new music system he has splurged on and I am so tense I just can’t enjoy the music. It is not like him to spend on frills like this and music, never, so what has come over him, I wonder!
Finally, I ask him, “What happened, da? Have you found a new love, is there someone new in office.” I can’t help asking the obvious!
Now he sighs and says, “I wish that was true, but it is this,” he says gesturing at the amplifier, “It’s this technology, when you increase the volume, it is the volume that increases and not the sound that increases as in other systems…and isn’t it great?” he asks.
And I can only gape in reply.

On a Lighter Vein

2008-08-17T05:03:00.000-07:00
KK to a family who always insisted on calling us over not giving us a chance to call them over…
“Why are you guys like a bank, just one-sided transactions!”

KK on our house in Vashi
“It is so small you have to go out to change your mind.”

KK on having 2-kids:
“Your role then changes from being a parent to a moderator.”

KK on why a baby suddenly looked down after looking up at KK’s face:
“She is searching for the TV remote.”

Me to KK, just before I left for my first work related trips without kids:
“Take care of the kids as if they are your own.”

Will add on…

Kochu Kochu Sandoshangal(It dosen't sound good in English but it translates to Small things, Huge pleasure..)

2008-08-14T05:50:00.000-07:00
We watched Ratatouille on our new LCD screen and it was pure heaven, the screen gave a new depth to the movie, something we had missed the first time??
The comforts of technology set me down memory lane… (there I go again)
As kids we watched our favourite TV serials, (if I remember right, there were only two, Buniyaad and Yeh Jo He Zindagee) at our neighbour’s house, it was also a ruse to get to our close friend’s place. These trips had its dual advantages; we could watch the serial and spend time with our friends. I can’t remember pestering my mom for the luxury of having a TV at home, not that she would listen to our rants too…
But sometime when I was in the 10th standard, (on a condition that studies will not be affected) we did get the most coveted item and on the day that it was supposed to come, I remember how both of us literally rolled down the lane to our house after school to see whether Amma had kept her promise. She sure had. She had her own reasons, one of them was to stop our running over to our friend’s house. Television did have its advantages, but it didn’t stop us from running over to Pukalacaud…
Well, there is no Pukalacaud to run to now nor do we live in the same old house, there is no shortage of Televisions or for that matter, even serials now…
But I still yearn for those days when freedom was just a few yards away, when running down that lane was like jumping fences of restrictions, when the few moments gave us both a sense of freedom.
It does seem like another era, when Televisions were deemed as comfort while now it is just another piece of furniture, one you can’t do without…
That, I suppose is technology with all its advantages, it brings continents closer but takes people further away…

To write light...

2008-08-13T04:34:00.000-07:00
I wonder, why, I just can’t loosen up and write some lighter stuff, as my well-wishers want me to. All the below blogs does give a grim picture of a suffering, emotionally dependant and maybe mentally deranged person sitting behind her rusty table in a dark, musty smelling old house, jotting away to oblivion! (No, no computers too, it gives the feel of comfort!) Now I get carried away with that image, well, the girl would have her hair spread over her shoulders, and she would use her pencil to scratch her lice-infected hair in-between her scribbling, twitch her tattered cloth around her fingers and mark her punctuations with sighs of pain and discomfort…
Well, those who know me can vouch, I am nowhere close to the image projected, but why the melancholy in the words, wonder others and I do too…
I just have to go home to have a bit, bit would be putting it too mildly, a bit too much, seems more right, of the lighter stuff.
From my younger ones doubts on why her father pees standing up while she has to sit while doing it, to my husbands rejoinders to any word I utter, well, my life is no less dull than an episode of Everybody loves Raymond.
So it might be to give a firmer rein that I plug on to the emotions -- the raw and untouched ones of my life that are instrumental in making me the person I am. But I do intend to add more fun to my writing…

2008-08-10T22:52:00.000-07:00
Re-reading my blog is like re-examining my thoughts...and I felt I did not do justice to my closest friend...my soul mate...
20 years or more of friendship, of soul examining, of discussing issues that concern us and others, spiced up with fights followed by making-ups and then again another round of the same...
Well, how could I forget this constant factor in my life...our circumstances might have changed from staying together in a joint family to the jerky life of a shippie, back to sound grounds in Bombay and then later a shift to a ME...but through all this our friendship has blossomed. Storms have been incessant but we have tided through them, and gathered strength to face more.
Well, how could I not mention this important factor who constantly reminds me of the funny part of life and makes me smile (and sometimes cring, when the jabs are directed at well-meaning friends and family).
So to this person who makes me laugh, who has changed the course of my life, who constantly reminds me that money comes only to those who take good care of it...and I yet again forget the advices, here is a toast to our friendship, here is wishing us smooth sailing...

A friend in need

2008-08-10T03:56:00.000-07:00
My editor picked a beautiful Arabic proverb for an article that says, “A friend is one to whom one may pour out all the contents of one’s heart, chaff and grain together, knowing that the gentlest of hands will take and sift it, keep what is worth keeping and with a breadth of kindness blow the rest away.”
Reading this made me long for a friend…
My friend-list is limited to my daughter’s friend’s mother or my husband’s friend’s wife…
Well, I do have friends in office… But I am constantly on guard here, where you just can’t let your heart rule over the head and pour the contents out, be it chaff or grain, for there might be someone, who would take offence …
And it is not because I haven’t tried. I had a close friend from REC, with whom I could converse with for hours…but we have lost touch. For years, I tried to find her, a number, an email but all efforts went fruitless and now I just don’t look. And there is another friend and we are trying to go back in time, to be the friends we were then…
Marriage has that effect; it makes everything around look unimportant. I didn’t want anything else but the comfort of companionship that comes with marriage which later and inevitably went on to the role of a mother…
And that is a one role every woman cherishes, that of a mother. The happiness of seeing a part of you in flesh and blood, the innocence, the dependency, the complete trust that you see in the eyes of your child, is all consuming. It obliterates everything else. Who remembers friends, relatives or other duties then?
Well, we all pass through these phases, but it the clever ones who maintains all these the different facets -- the ever encompassing role of a mother, a wife, a friend, a companion, separate each entity from the other, yet bind them together to form the character, that is you…
No, I don’t regret living each of my roles, a little more profoundly than necessary but I surely miss my friends of college… and I vow to hunt them down …

What I love and hate about living here

2008-08-07T02:35:00.000-07:00
I love
The sand dunes and the sight of camels walking past them lazily…
I hate
The monotony of the sands, the bare and harsh brown landscape, that continues on and on…

I love
The absence of relatives and the freedom that gives me to do what I want…
I hate
The detachment that makes me lonely sometimes for the love of relatives and close ones…

I love
The clean roads and organised traffic
I hate
The people who feel they own the road

I love
The sanitised food
I hate
The absence of spicy smells and the lip-smacking tastes…

I love
The absence of chaos
I hate
The same absence of chaos…

Because
I also miss
The chaos, the crowded streets, the smell of the local thatu kada and the green landscape….

A bond growing stronger

2008-08-06T00:38:00.000-07:00
I had all intentions to hate her. My mind was made up. I would hate this intruder who was going to uproot me from my current status as the reigning queen of the family… But the first glimpse of the chubby innocent face melted barriers inside. But, No, I wasn’t going to let go of my intentions, I thought firmly, that is as firm as a 7-year old can.
The tiny plump hands, pink and warm, the smell, did make the resolution weak, but I held on.
When the whole family ooh-aahed over the tiny bundle, I seethed inside and once, when there was no one around, pinched the tiny hands and watched horrified as the smiley innocent face dissolved into wrinkles of pain… I escaped from the scene, but the guilt remained.
But the hate dissolved gradually and was replaced with more positive feelings of love…I couldn’t help it, the smiles specially reserved for me(when she could just do that), the coos of recognition and the spark that lit up her eye when she saw me. The thought of being needed by this tiny figure was indeed a high for the 7-year old, me.
Some memories never fade, like her first day in school, when she wouldn’t let go of my skirt and cried miserably when I went to my own class.
Later on dependency gave way to friendship, when we walked down to the bus stand on the way to school(almost 2km away), the long gap between our ages never a barrier. We amused each other with the jokes we invented, read aloud our lessons to compete with each other and giggled afterwards when mom scolded. When we both were caught red-handed for going to our neighbours to watch TV and came back late, we stood with our hands entwined and took the punishment melted out as stoically as possible and later cried hugging each other.
The instances are many and the bond stronger. From being dependant, the little girl is now on her own and sometimes it is me who takes her council…

A sad picture

2008-08-04T23:30:00.000-07:00
Well, Kottayam, the land of letters, has a sad face to present to the world. Awareness and education has always helped man, but not in Kerala...Here, it is not a boon but a burden on the systems.
The centre of the town is the bus stand and the road around it was to be expanded. Some shops had to be demolished or pulled back to give the roads more breadth. And this was being done when a responsisble civic person(they are in abundance here) put a stay to the work which had started in earnest. With the rubble and the garbage collecting over it, the roads are still incomplete and the city wears a untidy look.
The beautiful Thirunnakkarra temple just beyond the bus stand with the long streach of steps and a beutiful facade is now a thing of the past. The beautiful facade is now blocked with some incomplete form of construction. Another aftermath of a stay order. The order could be for a better structure or to solve some issue but then the issue has to be solved not left behind unresolved for years...
I am not a political person, my views are that of a common man who loves her home town with all its smells and sights. And this sight does bother me...

For a reason or no reason at all?

2008-08-04T02:59:00.000-07:00
Why do I love the temples in Kerala? I am not an religious person, not in the strict sense of the word. Ofcourse I believe in God and pray, do my morning pooja systematically, but I don't follow all the rituals to the core. And that in part is my religion, the freedom to talk to my God, when I please and not as per a rule written long before...
Coming back to the question, so why do I love these temples? There are enough reasons to avoid going there, like the huge crowd waiting in a queue outside Guruvayoor Temple to get a glance of the Almighty..., the oil mixed with rainwater makes the pathway quite slippery and could well be a chance of getting closest to the Gods, the ridiculous overpass where you climb the stairway with numerous other devottes, all equally anxious to see their Lord. To keep yourself apart from the pushing sweaty mass as well as move ahead in the queue with all your parts untouched and unharmed, is indeed a feat.
With all these hitches, why do I still go there, yearly?
Here I have no qualms in admitting that yes, that one small moment when I get near the main shrine is so divine, it makes me come back again. It could be because of the time factor(you are allowed to stand in front for less than a second) or the skills of the chandam charthal, the sculpture is carved out in chandan by expert hands, or it could be something unexplainable...
This is for Guruyaoor, but what about the temple, I frequent, which is like my next door neighbour!
Here it is the comfort of coming home, the memories of a time gone by, when going to the temple, was part of the morning ritual...
And here is where I talk to God, to my Thirunakkara devar, as I call him...I tell him what I have been doing, what I want him to do...no, no huge want list...just to keep an eye on my mom, who lives close...
Here is where I invented small Malyalam keertans, because I didnt know any other bhajans of the God in question, the paths I had formed, the footprints which later paved way to a concrete path, the water puddles I jumped over and sometimes washed my feet...
This is my comfort place, this temple where I had prayed lightly during a normal day, more frevently during exams and sometimes forgot myself standing there, just talking to my very own God!

A new me?

2008-08-03T23:31:00.000-07:00
Life in the Middle East is counted from the day you come back from your hometown after the monthly vacations, to the next year when your vacations start. Everything in between in a blur, as days pass by in a fast forward mode, from a friday to the next. You count months and then weeks, days and finally hours before you go on your next vacations. It is not entirely because you hate the country you work in, but it is a combination of factors. For me the magnetic pull of my home country is hard to resist... the abundant and heavenly nature, the ever friendly country men(even a stranger will want to know more about you and won't hesitate asking you), the aromatic smell of Indian food mingling with the not so pleasant smells of the streets and the sounds of life... The list is endless but the strings they pull are strong...it makes you want to go back, yet again. There are other emotional strings attached like family who always pull you back for duties abundant...
Well, I am back from yet another emotional yearly trip! But the effect is obvious, I feel fresh and clean, ready to tackle the pressures of the job, family and even more. I have a lot to do this year, till my next rejenuvation trip.
And this blog is my first step...Hence it is natural that I write about my place, my hometown that yearly cleanses me and fills me with NEW hopes and aspirations, makes me go on with the rut that is life...
Let me go down memory lane... the thoughts, the scenes, the smells...all that makes me the person I am.