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.