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.

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.

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! 

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.

Even more of me!!

Today has been a ridiculous day for the following ten reasons:(don't blame me for this text book style. I've just been reading too much of it lately)

1. My granny and me did not say a word to each other, had our meals independently although we were not in a fight. This would have otherwise fallen under the head of 'cold war'. But since there was no 'war' per se, I'd just say, things were cold.

2. Speaking of the cold, the rhino virus seems to have tracked me down, just when I thought I had outwitted it and escaped. My nose seems to vie for the spot of water body with largest number of tributories.

3. I learnt a bit about mergers and amalgamations. Apparently the terms mean the same under the Companies act 1956, but the Income Tax Act, just got smarter! Its distinguishes the two.

4. In a long time now, I stopped checking my phone every ten seconds to see if there was a missed call or message. I've improved from what I was- there was a time when calls even from HSBC bank call centre were welcome. That provided the only proof that my cell phone performed the basic funtion of ringing!

5. I have not given my Activa a bath. Its something I've been procrastinating for days! Thank God automobiles don't suffer from body odour!

6. I had tomato flavoured top ramen with olives. The combination is not bad. But I did not find a fork, and had to adjust with a spoon. I learnt that using my fingers would have been better.

7. I can't decide if right now, I'm in a good mood or bad. Trust me thats how jobless I tend to become, even with nearly 2500 pages of heavy duty reading to do, before my upcoming exams!

8. I'm bored as hell of my clothes, half of which might dupe the census survey board to classify me in the BPL range, the other half which have become the bone of bearing the brunt of my hatred towards tailors in Chennai, and the third half(ya ya...I know, this is not a math lesson!) which makes me miss my tailor back home!!

9. I think I killed a lizard while sweeping my home today. I did not do it on purpose. I'm thankful, that the lizard is such an underrated reptile. Imagine if I had killed a crocodile instead....

10. I've been thinking of buying a camera. Extremely inspired by this. But I figured, I'll restrict myself to writing things which make no sense. There is no point offending reality. It never gets offended( and they call me thick skinned!).

Just more of me...!

Sometimes I wonder if I have two brains rolled into one, cos even when I've been through a night of guilt for giving such an unproductive day at work, my brain is parallelly at work on the next day passionately thinking up ideas on my next blog. Its another thing that ever since I've started this I seem to have an obsession, and sometimes I feel I'm kind of making up for all that writing I missed out on doing, when I was in a state of ignorantia blogosphere. Plus there are some really nice people like merci who prod me on to do what I most love doing, and therefore it seems like the whole world around me is conspiring to make me write.(you know where I copied that from!)

Sometime back a friend of mine told me she was going on a date with her you know whom( somehow, right now I think the word boy friend is inappropriate). But that only added velocity to the orbit on which I have been circumambulating lately. Its been on my mind for quite a while now as to how exactly it is that I've managed to stay single so long. I don't believe that one should stay young forever. Cos face it- we get old!!! Hell we do, every minute! And there is really nothing wrong or bad about having grey hair as a fall out of the years spent on this planet. Damn! there better be proof that I survived here this long and if the grey wisps and adding pounds is the only certificate, I really don't mind it! Plus I think the olny thing I don't rebel against, is nature. Amen!!

O.k so after that slight digression, I'm back on my orbit. Its rather funny how I've stayed this way right through college - five long years of it, and one year of being an employed youth, thus adding to the gross domestic product of this country. Its not that I've never had a 'thing' for anyone! Its just that things usually fizzle out in a couple of months for various reasons, none of which are as interesting as Agatha Christie's murder plot. So I'm not going to delve into such lifeless topics. Also its for certain that I'm in no great grand desperation to be hooked on or something. But its just when I look at most people around my age, many of whose relationships have culminated in commitment or marriage or atleast someone with whom atleast they can spend a rainy saturday afternoon, unlike me, who gains such immense pleasure just watching it pour down from my window and get all poetic and all. I wonder really what it is with me and myself? I wonder if I've missed out on anything, and then when someone tells me she's not a sizzling brownie person because she's never liked chocolate, and I know for sure its just her weight cares about more than what she really really likes, I can tell that I have a better quality of life!For sure!

But seriously speaking, may be its just that as usual I set high standards, that are so high after all! Or may be its just luck that number 1 proves more lucky for me than two. Sometimes I wonder if everything is 'normal' about me. But yea, I know it is. But if normal is 'average' then I'm not sure of my answer. Right now, I think of what someone who possibly reads this would say about me. Like I said in my last post, I hate it when people think its their fundamental right to judge me.(Hell!!its mine!...nah...not really!) Well if you really are thinking something about me, you can say it. Freedom of expression is a fundamental right as well and there's no denying it!

Untitled

Sometimes, I want to dance,
Though I know how bad at that I am,
Just you and me and a sweet lil prance,
Its still my dream, my man.

Sometimes, when my world comes crashing down,
When I think I have nowhere else to go,
Its so badly then that I want you around,
To be the sea, into which my tears flow.

When the weather's nice, I think of you,
I long to walk holding hands,
Beside the sea a pretty blue,
Along the golden sands.

When my mood lifts I want to hear,
I want to see,
You, my darling, my dear.

But I wonder if you think of me,
I wonder if you remember,
Or I'm just a tiny drop in the sea,
That is my gravest fear.

Tosses and turns in the boat,
And still I sing my song,
But you struggle to stay afloat,
And then I am wrong!

I don't know how far we've come,
Or how much we have to go,
But tosses and turns in the boat,
And you struggle to stay afloat.

I stick my hand out,
I think I can pull you up,
But thats where you choose to stay,
Thats how you go away.

But I still long for a song,
I want to hold hands and dance,
I still want a walk in the rain,
But for you, it's all a strain.

So I watch from the boat as you sink,
As you disappear between the waves,
That's the end, you choose to give,
For all those memorable days.

Net Profit from Advertisement..Finally!!!

Its been one of those week ends that I was waiting for. And when it came, it brought with it a spectrum of emotions and also gave me the time to revel in each one of them that actually makes me feel that this week end particularly lasted for 8 days. But that, in no way deters my week end from being any more desirable that it was before it actually began. Well, I'm not exactly trying to prove the Pythagoras Theorem here, but there is still a point I'm trying to make which will probably be made by the time we get to the last word of what I'm writing.

First of all I'd like to tell you, vodafone does not as promised, follow you everywhere you go. Because it does not even follow me from my home to the conference room at my work place, (which is in the heart of the capital city of Tamil Nadu, leave alone the home of some monkey in a Godforsaken tropical rainforest in Zaire) where if in my blasted luck I should get a phone call on my cell phone, that I choose to answer, I have two options:
1. yell into the phone, which will in fact defeat the purpose of Graham Bell's invention, and will instead make me audible to the person who has called without the aid of the modern day invention.
2. make me the author of Meghadhootam (part 2) that will necessitate sending a message through the blowing winds and the passing clouds to the person trying to reach me frantically to ask if i want an add on credit card from citibank.

Secondly, Dove range of hair care products, which I purchased with a greater amount of expectation than I'd probably have from my prospective partner, does not result in my hair feeling so beautiful, that I want to keep touching it. The question remains as to whether my hair is a challenge to Dove or Dove is a challenge to my hair or whether both are so unfit that my hair could serve as an alternative to scotch brite.(I need to yet find an alternative use to Dove shampoo. That makes my hair feel more useful than the Rs150+Rs150 - shampoo+ conditioner of darling dearest Dove. Or whether that is just a lack of my creativity, I cannot tell.)

Thirdly let me tell you Bournvita never gave me the 'tan or man ki shakti' or Boost was never ever the 'secret of my energy' , that kept me awake during the exams. Usually, it was the fear, that a 'best friend' would get more marks than me, that kept me awake. As I grew older it was the caffiene content in coffee or tea that kept me awake to complete the most boring 'types of winding up of companies' that constituted my Corporate law syllabus.

I'm not trying to prove that advertisements are a farce and should be banned as contributing to misleading majority population or something as fanciful, that would make the conservative school elect me as their next leader. The only thing I'm trying to tell you is that how often I've been so let down by these advertisements, like the ulta perk, i purchased with so much expectation and then cursed myself for breaching my diet for something as bad tasting as that. The list can go on.

But come on!!!I did not take the effort of writing this for this stupid purpose. The reason i'm writing is that just yesterday, I actually was benefitted from, I forget the name of that guy, you know, the one who dances around on the Dominos advertisement - Thirty minutes, nahi tho freeeeeeeeeeeee!!!! I don't live on a staple diet of pizzas. But hunger, and laziness to cook up a meal, and we resorted to the phone number of Dominos pizza. We placed our order at 9.12p.m. simple - 2 medium margharita pizzas with olives on top. I'm not sure if the guys actually went to Italy to get the olives or to switzerland to get the cheese or whereever else to get the flour for the base, because when the Pizza came at 10.18p.m. we were more than ready to exercise our fundamental right. Believe me, I have greater difficulty in remembering that the freedom of movement is a fundamental right as per Article 18 (thats the wrong Article? 15? 14?)of the Constitution of India, than remembering the - 30 minutes, nahi tho free rule.

We had called and reinforced our right. But for those of you who like me do not know, there is an indemnity clause which restricts liability to Rs.300. Anyway we ended up paying only Rs.100 for a 400 Rs. bill, and the net profit of Rs.300 atleast covers up the loss I incurred in the purchase of Dove's Extra Moisturising hair care products which did not moisturise at all.

Tear

First I heard a whimper,
Then it was a cry,
I strained to hear,
In the noise, my oh my!!

I knew this girl before,
I knew I’d heard this voice,
I’d felt these sobs before,
In the blaring noise.

She bled and wept,
Injured in a war,
And all the pain she kept,
Bottled in a jar.

I saw her teary eyes,
Beauty of a sort,
The light – it slowly dies,
Bringing with it, the dark.

I know, I knew this girl,
I knew from long before,
I knew I’d seen her swirl,
I’d met her at the shore.

Time has passed since then,
A while has galloped by,
I don’t know where she went,
Or what makes her cry.

I knew her so well once,
Laughed with her a lot,
But now I feel a dunce,
I feel I know her not.

I watch as she bleeds and weeps,
I watch her as she melts,
Onto my cheek a tear creeps,
She has me in her spell…

A lot of change had come,
I could see it her eyes,
What has she become?
So much of her had died.

The war still haunts her bad,
She looks weary than ever before,
The war has left her sad,
She is ebbing down below.

The wounds are still untended,
Despite the flying time,
The holes are still unmended,
And no one gives a dime!

But she has run away,
She has fled her past,
All that disarray,
Might never, never last.

But the chase never does end,
She will be chased again,
How much will she bend?
Soon she will be slain.

I can see how hard she breathes,
I can feel the pain she feels,
I see the scene she sees,
I see she needs to break free.

And hence I met her now,
Now, after these long lost years,
And though I don't know how,
I will rid her of the tears.

The Exaggerated Chronicles of the Edhir Aathu Maami

No matter how many times the wheel of time turns and turns and turns, no matter how much technology manages to contribute to complicate our lives, no matter how many high rise buildings rise and deplete the green environment, no matter how close we are to the wiping out of the ozone layer, no matter how close we are to an oil dry out, some things never, ever, ever change.

One among those near permanent features is the conspicuous and almost indispensable role the Edhir-aathu maami (literally:Opposite house aunty)plays in our day to day life. Lets see how far we go:

When suddenly the head of my family is intent on scoring some brownie points so he is assured a free pass to heaven, and wishes to be present at some far off temple with the rest of the family before even the Lord wakes up, the poor Edhir Aathu maami:

a. Takes the milk from the paal kaaran(milk man) and generously accommodates it in her fridge, and returns it with a well concealed frown, when we return and wake her up from her afternoon slumber.
b. Picks up the flowers left to hang pathetically on the door handle (believe me even criminals convicted to death get a better hanging than the way my flower lady leaves the flowers to hang) and sprinkles some water to save its last remaining breaths, before it can attain salvation at the feet or the head of the Lord. (sure she thinks that she will also gain some brownie points)
c. Opens the house when the maid servant comes to do the work, and passes on only 1/1000th the instructions my Mom/Granny said to pass on to the maid.
d. Keeps a watchful eye on the house during the period of our absence, lest she misses the opportunity of grabbing some succulent piece of gossip that she can pass on at the ritualistic evening gathering for the gossipers and gossip mongers of the flat.

She becomes the official treasurer of the spare set of keys, which come in handy when I forgetfully shut the door in a hurry, with the keys inside. Trust me, she avoids a catastrophe, in so much as I am spared a hard spanking for firstly being so useless and incapable and culminate in what a hapless wife I will be one day, how ineligible I am for marriage etc etc.

She is compelled to assume the role of a guinea pig to all the horrible and not so horrible recipes my granny reads in Mangayarmalar/ watches in Saapida Vangal on Sun T.V. Mind you the torture does not end there. She is further constrained to admire my granny’s culinary skills and marvel about how the previous generation makes a far better cook that hers and about how the next generation will as usual make useless wives/mothers.(like that is the only purpose of birth!!)

And oh! the days when the milk splits on the gas stove and my Granny is done cursing the milk man or the frequent electricity cuts, the Edhir aathu maami becomes the resource for an urgent cuppa coffee for an uninvited guest.

Poor her, she should also listen to the ranting of my granny’s recent USA visit. Of course she will use the opportunity to boast about how well her son is doing at his job in California or how her daughter got a scholarship at the University of Buffalo.

Her portfolio is also requires her to salute my granny’s bargaining skills at Pondybazaar where she picked up some plastic tub for half the price at which it is sold at Saravana stores or become the target subject of envy of my granny’s immaculate taste in sarees and jewellery.

The edhir aathu maami is a companion on lonely mornings, rival when it comes to trading insider family information, guard on long holidays, guardian during the brief absence of mom, shoulder, pillar pedestal et al. And mind you its not always victimisation, we happen to be someone’s edhir aathu maami as well.

Dear Mr.Psychiatrist...

Hell!!!what have I done? I have begun to sound so morbid!! I'm surprised no one left me a comment giving me the contact details of a psychiatrist whom I should see asap. Thanks about that dear readers.( Now I can safely say that) Speaking of seeing the psychiatrist, these are my thoughts.

As I walked out of my office elevator this morning, Ms.Gossip Gossip (Ya I'm right!!!thats her first name and last!It pretty much defines her.) had something to say. Poor thing , the few seconds of silence in the travel from the ground to the third floor, and I felt she would just explode. Even I have felt like that many times before because:

a. someone decided to impregnate the little atmosphere in there with the scent of jasmine flowers.
b. the few times when my sixth sense functioned, I had a bad bad feeling that the lift was going to defy gravity and stand levitating in mid air. And I'm stuck all by myself, in the damp, dark space!!!(I'm hoping that sounded scary enough...atleast thats usually enough to spook me out!!!)
c. I'm stranded with dear darling E.D.(executive director- for the benefit of those who think it stands for eggs and donkeys or something) and even the molecules in the air have defied nature and crystalised as a mark of ahem...respect!!!Duh!!!Not really.As a matter of practise, I guess.

But not because I had to share a piece of the most consequential information of the day. Ofcourse Ms. G.G. was vying for spot number one among her fellow contestants. So as if her brains would just liquify under pressure, she spurted out: "Unnaku theriyuma???Saravana Stores lai inniki karthaala fire!!!"Aaaahh! What a succulent piece of crap! For the benefit of those ignorant souls who do not know about the phenomenon called Saravana Stores, kindly permit me a slight detour:

Saravana Stores is a retail scale of what would put even Harrods to utter shame. Its where man turns into mass. Where shopping becomes as fundamental to life as breathing. Where degeneration has just begun. Selling hair pins to hammers; saris to sanitary ware; bedding to beet root!!! this place is worth a visit.

Anyway, getting back, Ms.GG went on about how she saw a black cloud of flames (believe me even the guy who spotted the ice berg that wrecked the Titanic would have sounded less horrified) just as she was boiling the milk to make coffee for her husband. I'm sure she was like: "Damn the coffee!!! Look at the spiralling sensation. And Oh my God!!! I actually witnessed it. So what if i could see the twin towers collapse only on T.V. ?I can see the live version of Saravana Stores flare up!!" Not funny? I agree. So I become the first audience to the Arson event (well thats GG's version), in my own little backyard!!! Mr Psychiatrist, I've got you business.

Then came the rest of the tribe in the office who were decked and dazzling today, as if there were a competition of who was wearing the most amount of gold. You know what, anyone wants to make a loot or something, I'll tell you a secret. Just drop me an email and I'll tell you when you could ideally plan to rob the women folk at my work place. But one slight hitch. The designs are horrendous!!!You'll get the jewellery, but the worst!!! So if you are planning to give any of the stolen stuff to your girl friend/ wife/ mother, be prepared for a double bashing. For stealing and that too poor taste.(anyway we'll share the booty. At least that would save me of looking at my boss' face evry morning) They were shimmering as if today was the only day Gold was permitted, and as if there were going to be a law that had the effect of declaring that possessing gold is like possessing dope. Dear Mr. Psychiatrist, some more on the way!!!

The next one takes the cake. I finally make it to get the exmination form of a course I'm doing. needless to say, its kinda a Government of India enterprise- the Institute of Company Secretaries of India - SIRC chapter. Wow!!!that sounds like a hot guy. But wait and watch. I thank my stars at having reached in time. MISCONCEPTION. The board reads 5.45 p.m. as closing time. I'm there at 5.10. But
' Don't you know? The cash counter shuts at 5.15.'
Even then I got 5 minutes before its supposed to shut!
The guy screeches: "Girl!!!You teaching me rules? eh?"
"No Sir. Come on How can I? I'm a sweet girl! I'm not here to teach you rules. Just to get the godamn examination form."
"Don't you have change? What? You think I run a bank here? Too rich to give me change?"

I fish out all the permutations and combinations to sum up to the cost of the form. God!!!Next in line was another scandalised kid. And the meteor shower started again. I wonder what really drives these people. Dear Mr Psychiatrist, time for you to take over.

Bow!Bow!Buffalo!!!

There's never a dearth for things to write on. And although it might seem like I have no other business except to write rather seamlessly, I must clarify that there is indeed a plethora of engagements I have. But its just this irressistible urge to tell you how outraged I am, that I decided to put this before anything else.

I am not a politically intelligent creature. I do not understand the difference between being leftist or liberal. I do not care if the government is being run by one joker or another. But I am an educated, responsible citizen of this country. More over I am a human being whose, all 5 senses funtion to near perfection.Which is precisely why I am affected if Bombay's local trains explode, or the religious seperatists are having a free for all party in Gujrat or Orissa, or if the Tsunami struck Nagapattinam, or if Bihar is sinking in the floods, or if another army man laid his life down for a country of a billion people who might not even know of how painful his death was to a family member. I might sound emotional or touchy or sentimental. But hell I will!!! because thats the only thing that differentiates man from machine. I will shed a tear, because no computer can fight the war, no technology could control the tsunami, nothing could avert the serial bomb blasts. After all its a soldier fighting at the war front, and he's made of flesh and bone!


As I watched the television yesterday, I could not help but scoff at the head lines. The Tata Nano project threatened in Bengal, nearly half of Bihar seemed to be sinking, the Hindus and Christians in communal violence in Orissa, the cease fire violation yet again at the Wagah border, terrorist infiltration in the country and amidst all this chaos was a celebration. Really, I would have been a part of the party if it was for any purpose slightly more constructive than what I was witness to.


Personally, I have nothing against Mr.Chiranjeevi, and have nothing to do with his value system or his profession. But since his 'Prajarajya' is incidentally claimed to be associated with the common man, and I am nothing but common, in every sense of the word, I happen to be enraged. First the crowd had gathered there as if they were celebrating the independence of India from inequity and inequality; from dischord and disharmony. I cringe when I imagine the scale of expenses on security arrangements for the launch of his party in Tirupati. I can picturise the pandemonium amongst the devotees in the religious power house that Tirupati is. This security should have been posted at the Mumbai local rail stations, it should have been conducting rescue operations in Bihar, it should have saved the burning woman. Oh my dear Lord!!!It should have been anywhere else but here.


The news yesterday reminded me of the nursery rhyme:

London Bridge is falling down!!falling down, falling down!!
London Bridge is falling down,
My fair lady!!!

But who cared if it was falling down or sideward or rising? All that the political leaders, at least a large majority of them ( a title conferred upon them by some of our own tribe who seem to have forgetten to bring their brain out of the mother's womb and simply bow like buffaloes, not to mean any offense to the unobtrusive bovine) care about is their growing bellies of wealth and muscles of power, none of which goes into social welfare. I don't intend to be a pessimist, but to believe that our politicians are honest or humble is like choosing to be blind. So who cared if a woman went up on flames or that half a hundred people had drowned in the flood? Who cared if a sincere soldier died at war ? (as if the 18 gun salute is all he deserves) Who cared if this country or humanity was simply going to the dogs?(i think they'd do a better job of governance than the human race, with a few exceptions.) Was that necessary- Prajarajya? And I must add that the count down was definitely more euphoric than the launch of the Apollo 11!


I think more political parties in this country should be banned. I think that if the eligibility into an MBA course involves so much hard work, the criteria to judge who leads this country must be at the very least as stringent, if not more. What I saw yesterday was not just an eye-sore, it was like gangareen, and is spreading fast. And what is pathetic is that so much support is bolstered for a government who certainly more capable of sparking a communal riot than reduce inflation. Mr. Chiranjeevi, I do not intend to write you off, but what you did yesterday was no different than a movie clip. It does not reassure the men at battle that we know how precious their lives are. A fight scene may earn you billions Sir, but please don't forget its not stunt men who are standing at our border line!

Yet again...

It’s the eve of my 24th birthday today. Another year has gone by me, and as I stop to take stock, as if my life were a repository of inventory, I see yet again that there are some things that I should carry ahead from this year and many things that I should leave behind as burden that would only negatively affect my productivity.

Suddenly my life till now seems like insignificant baggage, though I have lived close to a quarter of a century. I stand and look at it as a man with excess baggage would, critically analysing what he needs, what he wants and what he should leave behind.

With the passing of this year I leave behind many things, people and intangibles – mainly a wide spectrum of emotions. I leave behind those whom I would have loved to hold on to – wonderful people who I was probably destined to be associated with only until then. I leave behind a trail of moments that gave me immense pleasure, and those that simply wrecked me. I leave behind essentials which probably are never meant to be mine. I don’t exactly know, whether it is appropriate to say that I leave these all behind, or if simply I have lost it all. I always take pleasure in the fact I fight till the end, and therefore I can say with a certain amount of confidence that I have not been careless or reckless. There have been those situations in which extrinsic factors contributed to the brutal change in the direction I had chosen to follow. I leave behind that direction as well.

But the last year has been my debutant year of financial independence and of professional identity. It was a year in which the fundamental right to the freedom of movement was acquired by me in letter and spirit. Incidentally, it also gave me my first flight journey. It has been the year that suddenly made me more of an adult than I was at 21 or 22 or 23. It gave me a special designation, a responsibility and a different playground. It was in this year that something really dawned on me. I came to understand what I stood for, or rather what I would stand for. My exposure to many things came this year, and one of that was Vishaka Hari. What a performer!!! What also I carry ahead are a few people I met and who have stuck on. What I specially love to carry are those who have been with me over the years, and continue to be with me.

I don’t know if I am particularly looking forward to tomorrow. I am not even expecting a surprise. In fact I don’t think I know of any one who would care to plan one for me. I don’t even know if that would be a thumb’s down for me. In fact I don’t even know if that matters.

I don’t know what to expect the coming year. But I sure have a list of things that I want. For one thing, I want proof that nice things happen to nice people, and not the opposite, because all of the last year I only saw the nice things happen to the mean people. And all my ‘nicety’ had the last laugh!! Last year also saw what I call the phenomenon of ‘lateral expansion’, thanks to the adipose tissue enlargement. I have been meaning to work on that for a long time. Honest to God, I have. But when sugar and candy beckon so lovingly, when it’s the perfect solution for a bad mood swing or the perfect medicine for a broken heart(?), there’s no way I can turn down such a juicy offer.

I stand yet again at a new thresh hold, with a lot of inspiration and aspiration. I think I’m ready to face the winds yet again. I don’t mean to be cynical, as I’m often misunderstood to be. I’ve unpacked and repacked, and I’m set to go.

Loved and Lost...

Most pleasures are foregone with the passage of time. What gives that special adrenalin rush today is replaced tomorrow. Sometimes voluntarily and sometimes involuntarily. I completely acknowledge that this is the most boring way to open an essay on the topic of pleasure. But I cannot but help sigh at those little somethings I’ve lost as time galloped past me, and all that bottled up negativity may be the cause of this poor start, which I humbly request my reader to excuse me for.

Thanks to the end of my dependency, I have blessed myself with something that in effect is more detrimental, than developmental. I even feel a pang of guilt about referring to it as a necessary evil, because it in fact is not so necessary after all. Well all this build up is not to unravel some 9th wonder of the world. Nine, being the choice because that would make it more wondrous than the 8th , which is in effect is superlative to the 7th. To break the suspense, the object of all this melodrama is my newly acquired vahana, Sanskrit for vehicle. Duh!!! The build up was not worth it. Was it? And to top the disappointment let me clarify that I’m not even referring to a snazzy Lexus or a breathtaking 400c.c bike. Beginnings are humble they say, and mine completely adheres to the law (for once!), but that does not have any effect in terms of camouflaging my pride. Well if my sweet Ganheshji could so proudly flaunt his little mouse, I think nothing in the world can snatch me of my right in being pompous about my Black(and ttchch..slightly dented already!!!) Honda activa.

Well, now that the protagonist of my story has been successfully launched, I can move on to how I nearly I ran, or rather rode into a whizzing auto. And you, dear reader, must appreciate my humility in admitting that the fault was completely mine. But behind this averted catastrophe is a story of the past.

The past – when I was still a pedestrian, who had to wait at the zebra crossings to cross the road, the one who had to often slip into the role of a self assumed traffic police to make it alive to the other side of the road. The times when I could stop open mouthed and wide eyed at a woman with appalling make – up or stare fondly at the doggie at the window of a plush car, or gape at the sky wondering if it would rain today, or indulge in a conversation with my alter ego, or stop and stare at the display window of a shop that had branches almost in every city, was in the least a special attraction, yet for no reason excited me to know that it was going to come up in my neighbourhood, or to stand and smell the scent of the roses in the garlands in the flower market, or to swear loudly in English that was never understood by some vagabond who passed a remark that I assumed had to be lewd or just to watch the faces of the other pedestrians and commuters twitch with expression as they engaged in a conversation either with themselves or with the invisible person over the wires or the wireless blue tooth(wonder what made it a tooth and that too blue!!) of the cell phone. Walking gave me a part of the day with myself. To come to terms with my day that was closing in. It allowed me to look around and absorb a part of the world I lived in.

I still have not outgrown that habit, which is the reason for the possible collision. A house had been decked with lighting- a decorated drive way- a playing band. A wedding? An engagement? A party? What was it? I had to know, and in all my inquisitivity about what was happening or going to happen in the life a stranger, I was blissfully unaware of the auto honking at me, trying to distract me from my distraction. And so it had happened.

But this does not mean that all is lost. I enjoy scooting around the city on two wheels. I love the wind on my skin. I love the symbol affixed on my vehicle that announces that I’m a lawyer. I love being able to reach my work place without incurring the wrath and curse of the auto wallahs. There are many things I love, yet many others I’ve lost.

Goodbye...

There are some people I cannot bear to see go. I cannot just stand there and wave a cheery good bye and hug and kiss in the modern style, whilst advising the other to ‘take care’. It was something that had become more habitual than meaningful. Many times the people who tell you that, will definitely not be the ones around you when you really need the ‘care’. Yet, the ‘muaah’ ‘muaahs’ on either side of the cheek bear a close semblance to motherly love, care and compassion.

Having said that I should admit that I am one of the worst ‘bye’ say‘ers’ in the whole world. For I don’t exactly implement the hug and kiss gesture, but will stand there and look and if you would care to notice, you would notice my battle with my tears. I am a law graduate, and have been tutored to learn the skills of separating ‘law’ from ‘fact’. Still, when it comes to the ‘goodbye’ word, I feel like a scrambled egg, the white and the yellow, all mixed up. Someone sang that ‘goodbye’s the hardest word to say’ and if he came alive before me even once I would definitely hug him and kiss him and tell him that he could not have been more correct.

I hate to go, and to let go. Given the opportunity I would really love to keep the favourite people of my life, around me in close proximity and accessibility. But since that is hardly plausible, I am repeatedly forced like today to pack my loved one(mind you I have no issue in using the word, although it sounds a tad mushy) into an auto and then run back home into the bathroom letting myself loose, now that there is no obstacle in the way of my emotion. For a long time after they have left I will brood, an occasional tear welling up in the corner of my eye, wishing that the two days could have been slightly longer.

If this is the outcome of a temporary good bye, one can easily fathom the ‘goodbyes’ of finality. When I know there is never going to be a next time. I vouch for the fact that those are the worst, and when it has been accelerated by facts and circumstances that are simply beyond one’s control, it will have the same effect as a death by slow poisoning. (Indeed I have never experienced it to draw the parallel, but what do they call it? Literary license?) If it were in my control, I am sure I would definitely nail the person, without hurting him at all, of course, to the spot he currently occupied so as to prevent his going. But these are only wishes I can dream of, being sure without an aorta of doubt that it will never come true.

So I have had my little ‘dramas’ at places of all sorts, which I shall not publicly announce in my own self interest. Notably, I have been involved in these performances ever since I was a child, and age has not exactly contributed in simplifying things for me. The people I have met, liked and loved (and I don’t mean it in strictly the romantic sense) most often know how much they’ve meant for me. I do not however know if they understand the pain I’ve associated with the word. I relive the little moments I have spent with them. It will be always be a fresh bunch of flowers. To all of them with whom I am in touch and out of, for reasons we know and don’t, all I can say is a hearty ‘miss you’. And I mean it!

I Am Not My Master

Today was a usual morning, except for one thing that made it unusual, but even that was usual. I was battling with something, for now I will call it the desire to wake up. To me it was an ungodly unearthly hour, an hour when my sleep is the deepest and the weather outside is really lovely – a time that is so virgin, untouched by sound, smoke and severity. A time I believed that every one should spend doing they love most, and I was doing just that.

In the name of convenience or whatever it is, people have begun to assess a thing’s value in terms of the number of varied uses it can be put to. One such ordinary example is the mobile phone which is even more versatile than Kamalahasan in Dasavatharam, performing ten different roles. It doubles up as a watch, calendar, calculator, alarm, radio, camera, computer, MP3 player, torch light, route indicator, play mate, and in the ultimate analysis even becomes the soul mate to the lonely loner, who apart from his cell phone is quite alone indeed. Phew!!! Who said Babel inspired Kamalahasan? I have sufficient reason to think the cell phone did.

And it was precisely this modern day addiction that became my strongest rival each morning. Graham Bell might probably think he would have made a greater contribution to man kind by not inventing the telephone, and I tend to agree with him. Well after a great deal of playing and replaying the ring tones on my handset, I selected the least annoying one, lest I wake up with a frown each morning. Left to me, I’d say that one should wake up, and not be woken up.

This morning was no different. The alarm went off as usual at 6.30, and I turned it off. Just last night I had told myself that I should wake up and go for a walk in the morning. My body gets almost no exercise, given the work pressure at office. I rarely even stand up from my seat to get a good stretch. So this was a routine promise I made every night. The promise was to myself- by me to myself. The two are the same, aren’t they? Me and myself. Well prima facie yes, but evidently not.

And that was what made this morning out of the ordinary. I commanded myself. “Wake up!” I was almost screaming within, emanating a higher frequency than even the milk cooker which threatened to drive me deaf each day with its high pitch whistle, and which I believe was the sole cause for my grand mother’s deafness. Well I was ordering myself, chiding myself, then coaxing, then pleading, then threatening and went through a metamorphosis of emotions before I simply drew the rug over me ears, buried my head deeper into my pillow, and slept.

What strikes me is that I am unable to implement a command that comes from within. I usually have issues in complying with directions from my parents. “ Oil your hair”, “avoid junk food”, “study hard”, “wake up early in the morning and study”, “drink a glass of milk each night before you sleep”. These statements irritated me, when they came as instructions from an external source. But this was no different. I had definitely wanted to wake up. I had definitely wanted to lose weight. I had genuinely wanted to try to cut my phone bill. But the ultimate outcome of wanting it from within, pitted against instructions I got seemed no different. I did not satisfy either.

I have a strong belief in the concept of ‘will’. I think it can achieve even the impossible. I thought that ‘will’ controlled the outcome of most of my actions and efforts. But it dawns upon me that even ‘will’ is controlled by some other force, which in my ignorance I am incapable of perceiving.

My thoughts went on a little bit more. When even my own will does not influence my own actions, how easily I had expected it to control another’s actions. How stupidly I assume the whole world should play by my rules, live by my standards, meet my expectations. I am not even my own master. I am a slave to something or someone I am not even aware of.

Questions, they rise and fall,
They zip past, they crawl,
They fly, they float,
They sizzle, they soak.
Suddenly light, then for days at end
I live in a blackening den,
I surface for a momentary breath,
And then make my home the sea’s depth,
I know not truth from false,
I know not the devils dance,
I know not the angels sweet face,
I know nothing, I am dazed.

Glimpses...

I caught a glimpse of her from across the road. She was sitting in an autorickshaw, lips moving as if in prayer, but her facial expression continually changing to confirm that she was engaged in a conversation with herself. Through the passing traffic, the noise, the dust, the smoke, smelly pedestrians in the humid summer heat of Madras, there was little I could notice. But, having a world of time before the signal turned green for pedestrians my eyes were rather riveted on noticing her. She could have been pretty. There was plenty of scope for that. But her lovely curls were combed back with an excess of sticky oil, and tied at the back. She must have been tired, but through the distance between her and me, there was not much room for details. She sat holding her laptop case as if she was clinging on to the last remnants of her life occasionally checking to see if the signal had given a go. She did not seem to be hurry. She had stopped her conversation, and was looking distant, chin held high in the air, as if she was teaching herself to be brave. And I had been nearer I had a strong feeling that I would have been able to see her expressive eyes well up, and if I had been even more proximate I might have even been able to catch a drop of her tear before it fell to the floor.

I wondered what her worry could be. The signal had turned green for both of us, and it was time for us to move. But I still wondered what the tears could have been for. To me it felt like she was losing a part of herself with each precious drop…how much more of her had gone?

I checked my own phone for the time. With the coming of the mobile phone I never felt the necessity to wear a wrist watch. Back home my grandmother had always looked at my bare hands each day as I left for work, staring rather disapprovingly. I did manage to purchase a pair of gold bangles as a respectable investment, but never got around to adorning myself with it. The time was closing in on seven, the sun almost down leaving the city like a pre-heated oven. I was in no particular rush, as I did not think I had to put in effort to push the globe by a few inches. Things had been rushing past me, faster than the seemingly slow traffic driven by impatient drivers. Everyone seemed to be in a great hurry, as if they had Cindrella’s dead line to meet. I could not fathom what they were racing towards. My own life was racing past me. It was eight months since I had joined my first job, my prize possession. I had acquired it of my own. And I had relished every moment since I walked into the impressive building on Nungambakkam High Road. But the days rolled into weeks, then months and now my day had become rather mundane. I even took the same route home everyday.

The day had been tiring and as I neared home I had to sing aloud to keep myself awake. Soon night would fall, followed by the rising sun. It amazed me as to how without an effort, the entire globe went a full circle.