Dance, Music and Beloved Chennai

I retire from the humid afternoon heat here at Chennai, which seems to be getting unbearable. Several tumblers of water that I have downed have sparingly quenched my thirst. I contemplate turning on the air conditioning, and then reject the idea for fear of my increasing dependence on luxury. My hair is partly wet from the oil bath that I have indulged in, on the Friday of the auspicious Aadi month, and partly from the salty sweating that is indispensable to this coastal city.

This is the tamil month of Aadi, and Tuesdays and Fridays are considered auspicious. Married women pray for their husband's well being and longevity. At temples, the deity is adorned with the best of ornaments and the alankarams for the Gods and Goddesses are simply spectacular. It is a month of food and festivals.

But this apart, the Metro Plus supplement that accompanies The Hindu ( a newspaper of wide circulation) is filled, flooded and flowing with events held and to be held at the city. The Chennai edition of The Hindu's Friday Metroplus (earlier Friday Review) is always an art connoisseur's delight. More so, today.

There is a review of the recent 3- day dance festival of the IDA- pictures et al. And there has been ballets and solo recital of almost every top notch Bharatanatyam dancer from Vyjayanti Mala to the Dhananjayans; Padma Subramanyam to A.Lakshmanan. Then there was the brain child of T.M.Krishna and Bombay Jayashri - Svanubhava - a platform for the doyens of music, dance and cinema. There is also an ongoing play fest sponsored by the Hindu Metro Plus involving theatre groups from as far as Korea. The paper also carries an announcement of Bombay Jayashri's Bhaire Baanvari, a musical representation of the saint Mira Bai that is going to be staged tomorrow's at the city's quintessential auditorium - The Music Academy. There is also DAMA's (Dastkar Andhra Marketing Association) exhibition of handloom textiles from Andhra Pradesh at the Lalit Kala Academy. This apart there is the routine list of special pujas at the various temples, many with a significant mythological background.

Sigh!!! Add to this is the Aadi sale at almost every shop in the city.Who could be bored in a city like this? All this and it's not even the Marghazi month (december-january) which is famous for the dance and music festival, where every sangeeth sabha in the city organises kutcheris (music performances) and upanyasams (religious discourses).

It seems like Chennai is oozing with culture and has one or other offering for the creative mind, and a haven for the culturally inclined. The city is sizzling under the heat of the sun, but its people are dancing to fine tunes and humored by great stage plays. I hope things just get better from here.

Dear Ma

I wrote this long-long ago and it was lying in my drafts. In fact, it's time now to write a sequel to this. Still, I thought I'll put it up:

Dear Ma,

I want to write this once,

Just once and it will be end,

Of gossip stories – so many by the ounce.

I thought I was your friend,

I thought I knew you well,

I thought you will stand,

By me as I fell.

But I know there is another side,

The other side of you,

That went through pain like hell,

I have taken cue.

But there did come a time,

When I was about to become,

A big girl, and marry,

which was no big crime.

But you suddenly changed,

And went the opposite way,

And I was suddenly framed,

As dirty as wet clay.

He was the one you chose,

As I promised it would be that way,

Yet like my enemy you rose,

Much to my dismay.

Now some time has passed,

And my anger is wearing away,

I think I’ve healed very fast,

Exactly as you may.

I still love you Ma,

Love you like never before,

I still love you Ma,

Love you like never before.

And that I realise,

Is because I have decided that’s how it is,

I’ve decided, and that’s final,

And that won’t go amiss.

Just Doing Nothing....

I have been hopping between windows peering at people's facebook profiles, contemplating finishing the book I've been reading, and also finding new reasons to evade the text book on direct and indirect taxes. It's a week day, I'm on long leave of absence from work, and therefore have the luxury of complaining about the boredom, the unrelenting sun and the extra-soft mattress.

Some time back I was pondering over the possibility of my next blog post being a book-review - "The Better Man" by Anita Nair. I have not particularly enjoyed the read so far. I wonder if that is another sign of having grown up. The previous book authored by her that I had read when I was back in early college was "Ladies Coupe" and I was truly in love with her. So much so that I prided living in Bangalore, the same city that the author lives in. But with this book it's vastly different. Some characters are well sculpted, but there is some shallowness I find with the rest. I have grown up, I tell myself. My taste has matured. I decide upon Vikram Seth's title when I go book shopping next.

And then the face-book profiles distract me. Mostly my class mates from school. People I have not heard of in ages - ever since class 12. We are now in the mid twenties. And it seems uniform. The girls mostly have sultry pictures of themselves with peers from their work or university. Its quite typical - Black/red tops, heavily kohl lined eyes, painted nails, dangling earrings. Something felt silly. As if they have stayed at 18. Or it's possibly just me. May be I'm the one who is strange.

I have the time to make these indulgences now. And I miss those days I spent by myself in the later days of college, when it appeared that I was the only one in that whole city who chose to stay single. Sometimes I felt alone. I chided myself for being unattractive. But now, I've been married a year now. I've lost that grouse as well. I certainly don't miss being single. I'm not alone any more. But I miss being on my own. Taking off on a stroll just like that. Long naps. Doing nothing. No questions. No answers. A single room, I kept straightening time and again was my pastime. And thoughts. That was then - some four years back. It all looked so disdainful then. But now, looking back there was colour. And I'm happy with the way it was.

Even now, between typing this, sneak peeking into other peoples face book profiles, missing my husband and my old life, thinking about how much my life will have turned in a month from now, thinking of the air conditioning in which to enjoy my noonly siesta, my head nods, and I stop right here.

Come back!

Yea. Well I decided I will not wait until a year before I publish the next post.

And so after a great big deal of contemplation and mulling over,I'm typing this...the heat from my laptop nearly singeing the skin of my thigh, as if the summer drone were not enough.

I keep thinking about this space even when I don't write here. I'm glad it exists and I'm even more glad that its mine. Wholly mine. Not up for any kind of accommodation or compromise. Just there, as I tailor it. Up for comments, yet will simply be there.

I've considered moving - moving from here. And have dismissed the idea. The thought comes more because some people think they can or do in fact, keep track of my life and its very interesting, serpentine events through this medium. There is a point there I know. And it stops at that.

For now, I stay here. Hope to come back more often.

Ummm... I don't know!

Well, right now I think my blog would have been ready to write its last and final testament (read: will), but for the complete absence of a fitting heir. And so, it decides to pull on, in the dreary winter of Bangalore, with the last remanants of its owner's sympathy.

It's not only lately, that I've realized that my conversations are vastly different from what they used to be some time ago. It's more about prices of vegetables and pulses, how to set the curds, and the best way to wash my husband's whites. Damn! I think I never did notice the little house holder creep under my skin. And I see it's here to stay for a long long time to come. I'm unsure how to assess this change, and whether to classify it as good or bad. It's possibly inevitable, and a necessary part my evolution from a girl to a wife. It's also something I cannot avoid like the way I ignore fashion.

It's the effect of age that no therapy or spa or plastic surgery can mask. It seems to have its own world of fundamental rights, and its right to be present in everyone's life is undeniable. I can see that things will swell from here, and I must admit that there is a certain amount of excitement, that real adult life is now mine.

I pride in buying green peas at five rupees lesser than the colleague who sits across my table, and yet every morning the thought of fixing breakfast and lunch exerts more pressure on me than finishing an assignment at work. It's evolution I think and it's natural.

Achcham Undu- Achcham Undu!!

Its rarely that I take the initiative to book movie tickets. I do it out of extreme emotion, and ya may be when I'm pmsing. This was one such circumstance too. I was compelled to want to watch a tamil movie. The one running at the hip' multiplex was the title of this post.

Well, I don't usually take the trouble of reading reviews before I watch a movie. I do not like to bias my mind. But really, it's no such fancy thought.

The movie I'd say was good. Very good.

Its cosy and tart, with the perfect humour,that does not make it embarrassing while watching with a male counter part. None of that indecent, sex oriented comedy, that has brought me to loathe tamil cinema, dominated by the prototyped, cliched slapstick humour. This one was good, with a fair dose of romance between the hero and heroine, a married couple settled in New Jersey, with one daughter, a son on the way, a beautiful home and a snazzy convertible.

When they decide to paint their basement, they unknowingly, hire the services of a paedophile painter, who abducts and kills children. Their adorable daughter is his next target. And the movie is centred around his attempt to get her, and their escape. What I also loved about this movie is that they decide to heed their sixth sense, which continuously, sends out warning signals.

Although the story is not gory or bloody or violent, I let out a squeal of fright, some where midway where the scene does get you on the seat's edge.

It culminates, on a good note with the happily ever after end, and some irksome facts about child sex abuse around the world. I appreciate the movie in all earnest, and recommend that every parent and child watch this movie, to come to terms with the real world.

What I did miss, was my dear 'H', who is out of town, and butter popcorn and coke, which I skipped, thanks to the little guilt worm, which has now caught up with me.

Cheers!!!

The Guilt Worm's Appearance

One morning as I lazily strolled into my office complex trying my best to fake repentance for being late yet again, and trying even harder to appear as if in a hurry, I glanced drooling at the attractive display board of a french cafe that seemed to have opened recently. "La Boulangerie" I read aloud, in a fake and probably very incorrect french accent. And so that cafe became a delightful item on my to-do list.

I went there yesterday. A friend and I in fact. And I've been trying to lose weight. Thinking of that, I get the feeling I've been doing that since I was in my mother's womb. No. May be I'm wrong. May be I died fat in my previous birth. I'm still working on it. Mind you.

Ok. Detour. Apologies.

The stuff on display was so inviting. I did not care to think I was never going to achieve the feat of being able to see my

toes, without bending over. So we ordered. Not garishly. Just sensibly. One at a time till we reached satiety. And went right past that. I think I've got a rule in friendship. I only make friends with those who love food. We almost always catch up over food. And we never order diet cokes or salads.

When we finished I felt a little guilt worm tugging at my heart. And so did she (my friend I mean). But it did not matter. There was reason to celebrate ( and when there's no reason, we're eating cos we're depressed. It's a conspiracy if you did not note.)

The worm now has my whole heart in its claws. But i give myself time. Four days. I'm finally settling down. I 'm going to do something about the excess kilograms. And I certainly don't want this to be my dying wish.

The lethargic,loose-ended rabbit!

I've been pampering myself with luxury lately. Lots of time to just settle into the new life I have become acquainted with. At the end of most days, if I try to take stock of what exactly I have accomplished, it would take not considerate effort in arriving at result zilch. Well, hugs to me. I love me.

So prolonged leave from work - physical and professional. The only thing I exert my mind over is the ocassional su-doku in the Hindu. I read, constant mental exercises keep Alzhimer's/Parkinson's at bay. I think thats the only illness I'm saving myself from considering my lethargic lifestyle. I've taken the liberty of being foolish and procrastinating about everything I have to do. Money, exams, work, weight. Damn! the last word of that sentence really hurts now. And the harder it hurts, the lesser I do anything about. Thats my definition of tolerance I think. So even though I know nobody really reads this stuff anymore (boo-hoo!! sob!sob!)I still think its worth spending my early morning on.

I'm hoping this phase is drawing to a close. I think my loose ends are being tied up. Nah! I'm not dying yet. Things are not thaaaat final. I'll still be around. I feel like a rabbit now. And on that note, Amen!!!

Cheers to a brighter tomorrow!

Of Cooking and Cowardly Writing

I'm tempted to start this post by explaining my absence so long. Its a horde of reasons. I read this line somewhere:

...you know its a good blog when you have to pause a second before giving the address to someone you already know because there is stuff in there that you do not really want to share...

So there has been more than one ocassion where I've resisted the urge to just come here and pour my heart out, and fret about all those little mean, ugly and nasty things that happened to me or rave and rant about the little sweet somethings that my life has suddenly become filled with, post marriage.

So call me a coward, if thats what it is, but I just can't get myself to spill that fervent emotion here in this space, like I have done on many an ocassion before.

But all this wrangle apart, I have been doing some good stuff on the home front. And I've tried my culinary talent, much to H's delight. One of my own, original recipes, has been published by a dear blog friend here . Inspired by that, I decided to dish out another creative yummy delight, which made us (H and I) laugh till our stomachs ached, and almost made us go hungry last night. Here is what you should not try:

Never mix mango puree with whole wheat flour and have the mistaken impression that you could possibly dole out a mango paratha. Well that just does not happen. What really happens you will waste nearly 2 juicy, tasty mangoes and half a kilo of wheat flour. But if you really want a good laugh, do something more original.

Had your share of cooking disasters? Leave them here...

Living from the pages

Suddenly last evening I felt like I had grown wings.I had walked out of a book shop with some modest shopping in my hands.I had never loved myself as much before. My act was somehow empowering, enhancing, exciting and such similar superlatives that put me up on a pedestal so high, that even I could not reach me.The whole feeling was oddly romantic, and supremely pleasurable.

I cannot claim to be a voracious reader. But I do justice enough to call reading an interest, and have come so far as to have nutured a palate for such writing that is simple enough to implant in me a bit of the story itself.

I live in a collective of my own worlds, built from silly tales of speaking animals and impressive characters from my favourite stories. I live in the descriptive smells of cauldrons boiling with soup and the verbose narrations of the market place of suburban mumbai.I can hear the sounds when I read - be that Noddy's toy car or the brutal beating cracked down on a wife. My chest explodes with breath, as the words unravel before my eyes.

I see every scene as a page out of a writer's book. As if it was her creation and her painting. As if it took birth in text, in slanted cursive writing on yellowing parchment, that was tied into a bundle with some coir rope and abandoned into a corner to gather sweet smelling dust.And when I see it, murky at first and vivdly later,it all looks so unreal. So evasive.Yet enticing enough to beckon me to live in it. And so I do. Live each scene from my life like a chapter from a story that I did not pen. I feel philosophical in one sense. As if I have just conjured up my own theory of life. And then it runs away- my theory- skimpers away like a rabbit, closes itself like touch-me-not even before I reach it.

Dear Almost-dead-blog:

Dear Almost-dead-blog:

Hi!

My fingers have been itching to post something in here. Ever since I got married. Phew!!!finally!! It was not that difficult. Pretty matter of fact ain't it? Everyone gets married. And so did I.

My thoughts are still hazy. But my emotions are not. And I will let them flow. I won't keep them bottled any more.

Suddenly I feel disjoint,
I feel scattered up in pieces,
Some parts fresh, and some foiled,
I'm finally out of recess.

I don't want to pick up my past,
I will just let it be,
I knew those days would never last,
And sometime I will break free.

And now the time has come,
And you have given me your hand,
With you, I've made my run,
To embark upon your sands.

And you welcome me with warmth,
And that I did not own before,
Suddenly I am swarmed,
And you begin to heal my sores.

It is for this I have waited,
Waited for ever now,
For the winds I have waited,
To come and teach me love.

And though I feel disjoint,
I feel I am born,
And now I find the point,
That I have missed this long.

And you take me in your arms,
And we prepare to fly,
I want to break into a dance,
I love to be your wife.

Random me!

Hot Sunday afternoon, and I feel like a house wife for many reasons. I've washed my clothes and left them on the cloth line in the terrace to dry. I've dusted every piece of furniture at home, and swept and swabbed the house. I've also had my lunch and claimed my few hours to myself. Todays a sunday, I'm 24 and feel this way. I wonder what my sunday will be like when I'm 26-28 and I wonder what will happen with the passing of time. Already my eyes feel sleepy and I'm tempted to doze off when I realised I've been tagged by the wonderful Aarabi. Its been ages since I've done a tag! and so I will not let this pass.

10 random things about me. If anyone cares, read on:

1. I love spot lights. Especially when they're focussed on me. Dance, drama, performing arts- you get the drift. I love them all. And hence I feel jealous of performers at lovely auditoriums such as the Anna Arangam and Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan at Chennai and the Ravindra Kalakshetra and the Chowdiah Memorial Hall at Bangalore. 

2. I love sugary food. Just about anything sugary and vegetarian. I think I'm saying this for the umpteenth time on my blog- that I'm darned sure of dying of renal failure. I don't care!

3. I belong to the sun sign - Leo. I'm proud of that and am so grateful that I narrowly escaped Virgo. I dislike Virgo. I'm not sure I have a reason. But I don't like Virgo. In fact the only thing I wanted my life partner not to be is - Virgo!

4. I want to leave behind traces of my life, when I'm dead and gone. Since I'm Hindu, I probably won't have an epitaph. Instead I'll probably author some books.

5. I'd like to be known as a well read person. academic accomplishment is extremely important to me. I do not associate academic excellence and career growth.

6.I'm religious. I like being that way, and I wonder how many more janmas I'll take to be someone like Andaal or MeeraBai.

7. I think I live life by some principles. Mostly. But sometimes, I don't know what comes over me, I just let it temporarily vanish.

8. Till just a while ago, I'd say I wanted to live just until forty. I don't think I subscribe to that view now. Or do I? I'm confused.

9. I think I love the little pleasures of life. Like watching the traffic go by as I sit by myself at Barista, ordering the deadly - devil's bite, rain pelting down outside. Colourful umbrellas. I think I can spot beauty even in the most mundane, urban setting.

10. I can't let go of people. Even at the railway station, I cry like a baby.

Almost every blogger I know has done this one. So I'm not passing it on. Do it if you feel upto it! 

My day. My way.

So many faces, they look at me,
Now I can read the expressions,
Now, after all this time, I can see,
Them brim with with expectation.

I know this is a new phase now,
And there is a different beauty,
And I see it though I don't know how,
I can see it though I'm not so free.

I'm unsure how much my shoulders will bear,
I'm unsure how much I will strain,
But suddenly now I've begun to care,
For a trace of a smile, no matter frail.

It's all so different now,
And I'm not even sure how I feel,
Events will turn though I don't know how,
And I cease to be free.

But still there is pleasure of a sort,
Or am I just trying to cheat me?
I cannot tell my way in the dark,
Yet I feel I can see.

And that is what drives me on,
And that is how I face the day,
And that is why I'm ready for the dawn,
And and pick my shaky way.

Untitled

And now I pour my heart,
For all I have is words,
So many from the past,
I do not have to search.

The tears they now flow free,
The tears - flood me,
Just come down like a mound,
Bringing down with it me.

I was a strong girl once,
Twas something of a pride,
Now for no apparent reason,
Tears well up in my eyes.

And all I have now,
Are just empty empty words,
Once they meant a lot,
Some smiles and a dash of dirt.

They come pouring out of me,
Like the tears from my eyes,
Free flowing words and water,
But where to go from there?

Orphaned, unclaimed, they stay,
To stagnate and and be forgot,
Expect to go as quite as they came,
But leave a messy blotch.

The Wait...

As I wait for a message from you,

I think of the past when  time just flew.

And now the rigid minutes,

Rock solid.

As if they were to say,

That they will hold the day,

Until my phone tells me,

That you are on your way.

Although the reason sounds genuine,

Its my monkey mind,

I wonder whats keeping you,

Trailing so far behind.

Events that have just passed,

Add colour to my thoughts,

I worry my unstable mind over,

The next bridge I am to cross.

I've never been this scared before,

And I'm not a nervous wreck,

Just, my past has taught me,

Lessons I'll never forget.

But I still wait for you,

I know that you will come,

Something's given me cue,

Of the rising sun.

Silly thoughts...

I crept out of bed,
Dead in the middle of the night
Just one thought in my head,
Just one vision holding my sight.

There was this cupboard at home,
A 'meat safe' it was called,
And my oh my it had borne,
The best food that I can think of.

So this night it was a chocolate wafer,
That came to me in my dream,
And that was a juicy offer,
More true than it could seem.

I tip toe in the sleeping house,
Under the night bulb fighting dark,
I can work quite as a mouse,
And will be done in a spark.

In the dark the meat safe stands,
Throwing an admirable silhoutte,
Like a beach with golden sands,
And on my mission I'm all set.

I'm in the midst of a killer life,
And thats why I steal by night,
I'm on a pathetic diet,
And on my way to becoming light.

So I open the safe with trembling hands,
To be transported to cookie land,
I bend and reach out to the jar,
But oh my! I'm terribly far!

It seems like I have a battle,
Before I reach my pot of treasure,
So I prepare for war- horse and saddle,
Ready to take on adventure.

Wonder who my enemy was?
A reptile particularly unlucky with beauty,
In complete violation of nature's laws,
Sat there guarding my booty.

Ugly eyes blink at me,
No fear, valiant warrior,
Enough courage to make me freeze,
That unsightly large lizard!

Well now thats his home,
And he does not move,
My legal skills I'm soon to hone,
And that battle I will not lose.

I sit preparing for an eviction proceeding,
The first of such in history,
My resolve ever increasing,
Against the lizard- to rise in victory.

Still New?

Right! So the new year came, and is still fairly new to warrant the term. Neither did I die nor go into deep slumber in the last few months that I have not been actively blogging. Its also not the lack of inspiring subjects to write on nor the absence of those who inspire me to write.

That clarified, my fortune on Orkut reads some what as such : "Its better to fight and lose rather than not fight at all. " Theoretically, I'm a subscriber to the view and a proud one at that. But all this optimism is too blinding at times.

When my morale took a plunge for the infinity plus infinity th time last week, I came up with a piece of rhyme, I revelled in. But on hind sight, I thought it was too cynical a post to begin the year with, and hence it was trashed.

I was at a temple yesterday, where Andal Kalyanam was performed. Offerings had overflowed, and the sweets that caught my attention were a part of that excess. My reflex thought was about how I could I needed to use no stealth in polishing off that unattended temptation. And I wanted to write.

The other day, I was executing for the umpteenth time of my life a weight loss plan. I happened to notice enthusiastic joggers on the newly built flyover on G.N.Chetty Road. Amused, I decided to blog. That never happened.

I don't know if its coincidental that what I plan never happens and what happen's is usually what I've never planned. But its rather disturbing. So this year, I'm deciding to be open, not expect my plans to work, and still enjoy what eventually works. The decision is like my orkut fortune. And lets see how far I get!

Terrorised...

I have just returned after a brief outing in the near by marketplace. One thing that struck me was if someone was to open fire in one of those extremely crowded shops, there would certainly be no escape and probably more people would die of the stampede than bullets. It then struck me , that terrorism has become passe. Its rather alarming to be thinking about such things on a Sunday evening, when one supposed to be ideally unwinding. 

But given whats been happening in amchi mumbai, one better stop to give a thought to all that is lost in the nuture of utmost hatred. The event has left me short of words. 

What I have been unable to articulate, has been so expertly brought out by a good friend of mine, which you too can read by clicking  here. I think what he's written is simply perfect, and strongly recommend you read it too. 

For now,

All I can do is a silent prayer.

Stilled

I heard there is a virus in the air which is giving half of this city a bad time! But I also think there is another of these microscopic organisms thats giving half the bloggers a "writers block". Have been reading quite a bit these days hoping I suddenly get the inspiration! And I've seen a considerable quantity of ranting.

I'm not sure what it is. And I cannot seem to make out my mood . I'm not even under one of those cribby, whiny spells. I think I've resigned to fate or something. Whoa!!thats scary...but what ever. But yes I think I'm kinda waiting for a lot of things to happen. This is a funny phase you know- this 22-25 age, where you're done or atleast almost done with education. You've got a job, but still finding your waters on the job. And you know you've got to be patient. Just stay still for a while and only then the sea won't swallow you. The fact is you know at 24 you are not really "settled" in your job. But hell you can't be settled at 24.Then you be bloody buried by 32!

Then its the love life. At this age you probably have a girl friend /boy friend whom you really love or something. But whether marriage will be a necessary fall out of that, you can never say. You're in the waiting there as well. Insecurites hover around. May be this relationship has none of the sparkle left from the college days when it first begun. May be profession takes a priority. May be distance takes a toll. May be he/she is just not the one. what do you do? Wait! I don't mean to sound like a fatalist. But really there's nothing much you could do...And if you are my pathetic single bloke, then you register on one of these matrimonial sites, and wait for Cupid's arrow to strike your heart. Its pretty much like that...Not like in college when you've got deadlines and proper yard sticks. And could smoke up or get so drunk and think it solved every possible issue that required to be addressed. At 24 you know that its not true and its terrible to get to work with a hang over. Plus there's this voice of responsibility that kinda never shuts up. So you begin doing silly things like binge on food or clothes or something.

You've got your dreams and they get bigger by the day. Well they're meant to. But you cannot go all out for them. You don't have the darned dough for it!! What do you! Bulls eye! Wait. It reminds me of those finger on lips (that sounds corny for some reason now!) sessions in primary school, when we were asked to just shut up for a few minutes. I remember even then I used to get uneasy. Silence is just not my cuppa tea, you see. And so even now, I feel like a jack in the box waiting for life to start.

Or I'm not sure if this period of inertia is like a period of thanksgiving for all that you got until now, and in preparation for the rickety rockety ride that follows. Its a cranky phase you know, like one of those arbit stops the train makes in the middle of nowhere because its not got the go signal. And I'm getting impatient and fat, munching on all those fillers!

Tagged!Good Whiskey-Scotch is not an Obsession- Just a secret!

Been tagged by Inexplicably this time, and its about obsessions. I'm perpetually whining about how there's so much to do and so little time. So I presume 5 obsessions must be easy to come up with. I'm usually obsessed with mundane things, and like Murphy's propositions - the more I'm obsessed, the less i do the thing. Simple things are not getting done. Its just that I've got so many things going at the same time and in order to do reasonable justice to all, some of the things which is not-really-an-emergency and some of those wee-bit-boring-things do remain unfinished. For example, the market's crashing and everyone says its a good time to get in. But I don't have the time to sign up for a trading /demat account, because I'd rather spend those hours and that effort in front of mybooks, even if I am not exactly studying. What I'm doing is really a fire fighting job, minimum damage under maximum pressure.



When I began to write this I thought I've lost obsessions, but no,i guess its not that way...I still have em, (haah!!i'm still alive) just they are not like- right-there-in-the-face-type obsessions. They are just those deep seated obsessions which may not do the vanishing act just like that.



Bharatanatyam is my first. And I can say it sans all the murkiness I may associate with the rest. I've learnt the dance form for a long time now, and though I have not done it too many times, the stage and spotlights are something which could be my second and third obsessions. No matter how boring or drab I might sound, Bharatanatyam has taught me how to present myself publicly, its taught me some grit to survive in the midst of a life that went terribly out of track some months ago, its taught me hard work. I don't proclaim to do justice to fact that I've got things going with this form of dance, but it still is my life. I'd love to get into that kalakshetra saree and wear my kaajal and bindi and chalangai and commit myself to it. May be I would have done it if certain things were another way. But somewhere along the way formal education took a toll on my passion. I'm also the epitome of this attempt to be so many things at the same time, that leaves me in such incredulous situations.Siiiiiiiiiigghh!



Academics is my second. At 45 I'd love to be an academician who's going to her post doctoral fellowship thesis on something to do with law, women, religion, economics and the communist theory. How I'm going to link em all up, I have no clue now. Forty five is a long way to go. I have time I guess.In the process, I'd love to be an inspirer. Someone at whom atleast one person will point her fingers at and say- "wish I could be like her".



My third would be sugar. Yea. You read me right. Sugar it is! Candy, mithai, ice cream, dessert, pastries - you get the drift. I'm dead sure I'm going to die of renal failure. But hell!I'm going to die anyway. So I have no qualms. I love it and will stay this way.



Vishaka Hari is my fourth. She is a performer par excellence and man!!is she good!She is basically into musical discourses on Hindu mythology. One need not be religious to listen to her. Its like a story telling, and how alive she brings the story. The thing with her musical renditions is that the package deal as such is just perfect. Her make-up, costume, music, expressions. She is an inspirer and a great one at that. I won't waste her with my words. She fabulous and will stay that way!



My fifth obsession is my past. The more I run away from it, the faster it gets to me. I don't mean to sound like someone with a crazy past or anything. Mine's been pretty normal. Usual. Nothing extraordinary. But many times I'm always caught in this effort of being different from what I was.I'm not trying to sound like one of those ideal characters from a self help book. But either I don't like what I've done or how I've been. Sometimes, I feel like I'm running away from myself. Yea I know I sound like i need a shrink right away. May be I do, cos there are days when I drive myself nuts. So, yea...thats been five I guess.



I'm supposed to tag five people. But I wont do it. Simply cos, most ppl have already done this tag, plus I'm not really in the mood for tagging. But if someone reading this actually feels like, tag along. And lemme know. Will be a pleasure.