The Jungle Girl's Shenanigans

Love Me, Love My Dog

2011-12-07T13:41:00.009+05:30

People say you should treat a dog as just another animal and not as a human being. When we first got our Hyde, I was not at ALL thrilled. I had never had a pet in all my life and was nervous about having to raise a super-active dog in a small apartment - but my better half convinced me he had enough experience for the BOTH of us. Sigh... Remember that scene in Marley and Me, when Jen Aniston loses her mind and INSISTS they give Marley away, only to change her mind again later? That was US...replayed a million times over in the last almost 3 years.

Hyde was only two weeks old when we first got him. So cute and cuddly - I don't need to lavishly describe puppies do I? In our first months of marriage we slept on a mattress on the floor. The first day we kept him out in the hall but he howled, hubby let him in and he'd try to crawl into bed with us. Keep in mind my house now smelled of urine - there were newspapers everywhere to absorb it, and I had cleaned up his poop about ten times already, which resembled mustard just as you squeeze it out the bottle. Friends who know me know how germ-conscious I was (back then that is) and I was really not keen on a puppy licking my face. Needless to say, my husband and I fought a lot over this mammoth task of raising a puppy. I was not ready for it. At ALL. Food, exercise, pee, poop, and the occasional vomit - all had to be taken care of, not mention that we had no social life cos this little guy took ALL our time. Within a year he grew to his full adult size - teeth and all, and it showed on our furniture - badly.

In the three years of poop cleaning (a real thrill when you get some on your fingers, EVEN better when it's diarrhoea), vomit mopping, tick picking, dog hair sweeping, the training and the check-ups at the vet, we'd grown to love him. May be a little too much. Labradors are intelligent. I'd go so far as to say the MOST intelligent. Trained to hunt and retrieve - their instincts are sharp, and they are the ones most chosen for the brave tasks. They are AMAZINGLY gentle around children. They learn fast and are so eager to please. My husband and I would watch proudly as he absorbed everything we taught him. We'd look at each other and dream of all that he is capable of becoming with his talents. "He should be a police dog! Sniff out bombs!", my husband would say, to which I'd reply, "No way that's dangerous! But he'd make an excellent seeing-eye dog!"

The best part of all is how much he loves us. We've gotten a lot of flak from many quarters especially after I became pregnant (my son is now 15 months old). People constantly insisted that dogs were not meant to be indoors, dog hair is dangerous, dogs get jealous and rip babies apart - we'd heard it all. I was terrified every time I heard a story - but I still could not find it in myself to abandon him. The better half agreed.

I went through an extremely tough phase post-delivery when Hyde got a bad case of ticks. We'd tried everything to ease his discomfort but we had a lot of wild pigs roaming our area (where he went for his walks) that were carrying ticks so there was just no escape. I started to get angry and frustrated with Hyde (even though it was not his fault) because I was scared for my baby. Ticks would climb the walls in hundreds like an army and I'd walk around the house like a mad person with a piece of sellotape, trying to pick them up. More fights occurred with the better half. When he and baby were finally in bed, I'd sit up till midnight and pick the fat ticks off Hyde's body, dropping them into a cup of oil so they don't escape. Some were as large as a coffee bean - filled with blood. But the scary ones were microscopic - my eyes could soon see them from a distance. The madness came to a climax when I took scissors to my long curls because I was convinced I could feel them running around in my hair. Most of all, I was terrified for my baby. The problem was only solved after we moved to a new house and locality. Hubby also had no choice but to finally take me to a hair salon to fix the mess I'd made :D

Hyde and my baby boy get along famously. In fact they're inseparable. My son calls him "thetha" (that's cheta: Malayalam for 'big brother') I've seen Hyde get protective about him - you do NOT want to cross him then. Ferocious. People who visited loved to advise us: dogs need a bigger house, a garden, room to play in, the company of other dogs. But when ever we put him in such environments, he was just SO relieved to be back home again. For him, the greatest torture was to not be around us. Like a child, he can also stomp his feet and throw a tantrum - very human-like and entertaining to watch :o)

So, just imagine a tiny creature that you feed, clean-up after, love unconditionally, comfort when they're lonely or sick, feel great pride in their achievements - and ask yourself, how MUCH different is raising a dog from raising a child? Dogs add so much value to your life. I cannot believe how much I've learnt from Hyde, how much I've changed as a person. All the pain and worry and anxiety is worth all the wonderful, at times heartbreaking, memories. No matter what, he'll always be my baby. Always. And because of him, wherever I go in the world, I'll give an abandoned dog a home, regardless of its breed.

"What's The Plan Phil?"

2011-07-30T18:59:00.002+05:30

How important is it to sit down with your spouse and discuss your mutual plans for the future? In the years of our dating, my husband and I had all sorts of dreams and ideas, many of which seem pretty fruity right now especially as we have a baby and a dog. But after we got married I found we never actually sat down to TALK about any of our plans and rather just went with what ever the circumstances were presented, which also seemed to work out just fine (but not always great!).

As a married couple there are so many aspects to take into consideration:

1. Does the wife go back to work after a baby?
2. Do the in-laws have to move in?
3. Money money money.
4. Sharing of household chores, however small and mundane they may be.
5. Time together as a couple.
6. Time alone or with girlfriends/buddies.
7. Time spent with the children/dog.
8. Sharing of tasks involving care of the baby - changing diapers etc.
9. Who walks the dog?
10. Where to spend important holidays and festivals?

I suppose the list is endless and any man reading this will probably think twice about getting married. I am really keen to know how my blogger pals manage this aspect of their life. Is planning life like this necessary or should we just do what we feel like?

*The title is from a super-hilarious comedy called Modern Family - it truly captures all the nuances of family life and I can't find a single character I don't like!

Oh to have MY roof over my head!

2011-07-01T14:05:00.005+05:30

"I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances." (Phil. 4:11)

We're going through hell (okaaay, a pretty rough time) finding a house for rent in Bangalore (again!). Our current landlord very conveniently decided to not inform us that they're planning to sell the place and our house agent decides to tell us the day AFTER we sign the rental agreement and move in our stuff (a move that was being paid for by my husband's company). But she consoled us by saying "Don't worry nothing will happen for another TWO years at LEAST! (She has to say that because we just handed her a cheque for one month's rent as her fee!) Sigh...we've not yet crossed one year and have to move out this month end! The nightmare is that rent in Bangalore has almost doubled since the last year, plus the added expense of movers, another agent, and the crazy task of changing our address with the bank, gas and telephone company! I have been so enraged these past few months due the turn of circumstances, finding it even difficult to be grateful for the small blessings in life. My childhood friend P, who also happens to live next door and is my moral compass, introduced me to "Streams in the Desert" by L.B. Cowman (much cheaper on Flipkart.com btw) and I have to say, I am finding the much needed peace my mind requires. I even ordered my own copy online so she needn't go without hers. If you're of the Christian faith - I strongly recommend this book as it has brought great meaning to my life and I really think it could make a difference to yours too.

But I still can't help but think - there's nothing quite like having your OWN place, one where you are king! :o) All in His time...

When you’re a Mother, you’re Born Again

2011-05-16T21:39:00.008+05:30

My MIL is a Born Again Christian and insists that Bible verses be plastered all over the house. Of course, having a Catholic DIL means she has to emphasize this even more :P I resisted this invasion for many reasons – none of which I want to go into right now. (Well actually I did go into it just now, and then found this post taking a completely different path, and deleted it…ha ha!)

When they left back to their place, the MIL gave me a whole lot of Bible verse stickers and told me to plaster it in every nook and corner. Irritated as I was, I understood she had only good intentions. May be she was secretly trying to “save” me…or maybe she just thought that some one visiting our home would read these verses and get some comfort or a prayer answered. I prefer to think the latter at this point.

Because we were in a rented house, we couldn’t randomly stick stuff where ever we pleased and so I put away most of them except for one, which I stuck on our fridge. Click the pic – see the orange one on the left? I remember feeling irritated, thinking, “Ugh! The PRESSURE!” But that baby was too cute. I stuck it. On the one place that I pass by every day.

Today when I think about it, I realize I chose that sticker, among all the others, because I WANTED to be a Mum.

With contraception, and “planning” a family – young couples today are too scared to admit they are READY to start a family. We never feel truly ready, or financially secure enough. We’re scared that with our lavish lifestyle (which we’re reluctant to give up) if we have a baby, we'll feel limited - maybe even feel resentment (though I find that hard to comprehend). This is the most important decision you will take in your life. And before contraception came along, this decision wasn’t even in your hands most of the time. In fact, every one of my friends who recently became a Mum said, “we weren’t planning for this – it just happened”. I’ve yet to hear any one say they were 100% ready, though there may be many who were.

We were scared too. We took a lot of risks, didn’t bother with contraception, and just wanted “Destiny” to take over. We were so terrified with this huge step we were going to take…but we did nothing to stop it from happening either. We had NO savings. I was not employed. And we had a Labrador who could eat more than the two of us put together (of course it was not his fault that we gave him so many doggy treats and fed him Pedigree). Add to this credit card debt (I blame newly-wed euphoria – we learnt our lesson) and car payments and we were lucky we had three meals a day. Okay, that is stretching it a tad. Yet, we unconsciously encouraged it! Why not? I mean – our grandparents’ generation were all single earners with more than twice the number of children than our generation – and they ALL did GREAT! (My mother always said we lived a privileged life and so we take things for granted.) A few months after putting up that sticker, I conceived. Now I am a mother. Mother. MOTHER :o)

I took a picture of this sticker because I knew we would lose it if we ever had to sell this fridge. I guess the reason why I wrote this post was to tell the women I care about this: don’t give in to any pressure to start a family. It’s a HUGE responsibility. You SHOULD take into consideration your husband’s opinion, their support is most crucial – they are going to be scared too, even more than you perhaps. But they may also surprise you. You will know in your heart if you want to take this big step. Your mind will put before you all the possible obstacles – but your heart will keep saying, “Ag we’ll get through it”. And you WILL. You will get through anything once you see your baby. Your resolve, to not merely survive but to THRIVE, kicks into gear. My only regret is that I didn’t start this motherhood gig earlier – but “The Lord shall give that which is good…in His time.” So, even age is not really a factor. That feeling of being “ready” is God telling us to go ahead, that He’ll stick by us, catch us if we fall – but we’ll never feel that thrill if we don’t ever jump. There is NOTHING that I miss from my life before I became a mother – it all pales by comparison. (Okay I miss fitting into a Size 30 jeans – but that’s it! Seriously!) :P

Reluctant as I am to add this, I gotta say I am grateful to my MIL for that sticker. It's one of many sweet things she's done for me. In my rare moments of despair, especially during my pregnancy when I felt weak, helpless, scared and vulnerable, those words gave me the strength I needed...

Mama Mia

2011-04-15T11:38:00.005+05:30

There is no one in the world who drives me more crazy than my Mother.

There is no one in the world who has looked out for me more through all the thunderstorms of my life. Even when I have disappointed her...I feel the warmth of her aura as she scolds me. I feel safe and protected in her presence even when I fight with her like a crazy lunatic. I've said many hurtful things to her in my life. So, being a mother now, I can expect it in return from my kids ten fold. I just hope I have her strength to withstand it. If she ever fell apart - she never let me see it.

There is a saying, that God could not be every where, and so he gave us Mothers. She is my guiding light and I am forever grateful to Him for her. Mama mia...

Revival of the Retraction

2011-04-05T18:15:00.004+05:30

I published the previous post three days ago, then removed it by end of day again - because, as usual, I was worried "What would people think?" (rolling eyes) This is the day and age where you can post something very innocent on your Facebook status and your 500 friends will comment on it with 500 varying interpretations. Soon, something very innocent gets more attention than it deserves and you have the whole world sitting in judgment of your life. You're even left thinking HOW people come up with the kind of daft comments that they do!

Another reason why I removed the previous post was because I truly believe that any negative feelings one has towards something one truly cherishes (in this case, my marriage) will only be further compounded by putting that down in writing (and then revealing it to the world!). Numerous posts lie in my Drafts folder for this same reason. We unleash our heavy hearts, and then hide it away quietly, hoping it'll some how get resolved by itself because we have revealed our worries to the Universe. Chaos follows.

The reason I brought the post back was because this fight with the husband was quite a revelation to me. It started off for all the millions of stupid reasons (can you believe, I don't even remember WHY?) that husbands and wives fight about. The revelation lies in my reaction to the fight. I won't tell you what I did, only that I had never behaved in such a manner before, and was quite ashamed to feel the burden lift from my heart as soon as I did. How could such a meaningless act give such RELIEF? Okay, before people misinterpret THIS as well I guess I better say I broke something (but I won't say what ;o). I never, NEVER throw or break things in a fight. I destroy my opponents with the most poisonous of words. I guess this time, I had my baby in my hands, couldn't scream n shout much but had to let out as well, it's as though I was possessed, and so I let loose on the first thing I got my hands on...something that belonged to the husband. I felt SO awful (much) afterward - but you will not BELIEVE how the weight lifted from my heart. I did not intentionally hunt for something of his to destroy - though he will never believe that. But I strongly recommend that when Big Bazaar has a sale on breakable plates - stock up ladies!!!

The previous post is back because the person who wrote ALL those things - that person is ALSO me. It's who I am. It clearly shows I'm no martyr, no angel. I'm flawed and weak and stubborn - in fact, I'm a bitch. I apologize only to my husband for it. I do my marriage no favours by hiding what I truly feel about it at any point in time. The husband and I have still not talked about the fight. Two days of not talking to each other was followed by a quiet acceptance that life must go on and the mutual false illusion that the other party was at fault. The love is there - it always will be. I still contend that two people in love should not HAVE to marry to be together - but it is the way of the world and avoids a lot of awkward questions when the kids arrive. Marriage is hard alright...hard WORK. If you don't work at the minor cracks in the foundation, you'll be too stunned to make a recovery if it falls apart.

“The problem with marriage is that it ends every night after making love, and it must be rebuilt every morning before breakfast.” - Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Stating The Obvious

2011-04-02T15:39:00.005+05:30

Marriage is hard. It is so hard that I would not recommend it to any one, let alone convince them to do it just cos "time is running out". For me, personally, there is only one reason to stay put in a marriage: my children. For many, that's a bad reason. But not for me. The reason being that I LOVE my husband. But I wish I hadn't married him. He has been miserable ever since. I can see it. I can feel it. The only good thing that has come out of our union is our son for which I thank God. But he is really and truly miserable and if you knew him...you'd see he's not the type to be tied down. But that's what I did. I tied him down. I loved him so much that I wanted him to be a part of my life. But when I think now, I guess maybe he never really wanted to get married. I dunno... We've hurt a lot of people just to get married.

We had a bad fight today. When I'm angry I say the most ridiculous things, like "I no longer wish to be married to you." This is something he would NEVER say. But that is him. This is me.

For those who want to get married, think twice. Love is clearly not enough to sustain a marriage. You have to WANT to be with a person 24/7. You have to acknowledge them in your life. You have to tell them once in a while just how much they mean to you, that your life would have no meaning without them. No, it's not enough to just "know it". It's not. The occasional hug will help. You may not always help with the dishes or change a diaper but you CAN offer a smile. You may not always kiss goodnight, but you can at least look up from your Blackberry while in bed and SAY "goodnight".

There were many reasons I did not want to marry. The mere idea freaked me out since my teen years. When I finally found the "right guy" - and he IS the right guy by the way, I figured everything would be good. I'm not a fool to think it'd be GREAT. But I figured our love would help us overcome our own little maddening quirks. I am an incredibly romantic individual (head in the clouds type) married to a TOTALLY unromantic being - and I STILL want only him. But marriage has disappointed me. If it weren't for my Catholic upbringing I would opt to live together with him in a hippy commune - away from the pressures of marriage and society. That way, I'd know he was sticking around because he REALLY wants to. Now...now I dunno shit. I just know he is miserable and he is taking it all out on me.

The Book-Movie-Song Tag

2011-03-17T16:13:00.004+05:30

I came across this tag in Preeti Shenoy's blog and it was quite refreshing, especially as she made it up herself. I am a huge fan of hers and can't WAIT to get hold of her two books. Been ages since I got my hands on a good read. Here's an awesome way to get to know more about someone:

Preeti's Rules:

1. The tag has three parts: Movies, Music, Books/Authors.

2. Write a movie, song, book/author with each alphabet of your first name. The book, movie or song should be one that you really liked. If you say why it matters to you, it would be great! We will all discover new songs, movies and books this way.

3. Tag as many people as there are letters in your name (if your name has 4 letters, you have to tag 4 people and so on).

4. Mention that the tag originated here and link back to this post :-)

5. Copy paste these rules :)

So here goes -

Movies:

Jaws - saw it in my pre-teen years and was terrified of the ocean because of it. So over it now.
Avatar - visually appealing and in 3D - I was blown away!
Notting Hill - any story set in England will do for me. Oh, also any movie with Julia Roberts!
Edward Scissorhands - the teen years were all about Johnny Depp - not suprisingly, it is STILL about JD :D ...loved the originality and dark humour of this movie.

Books/Authors:

Jeffery Archer is all that comes to mind. I WAS a huge fan once upon a time - even have a book signed by him. Kane & Abel will always be one of my favourites.
Asterix comics - would fight my Dad for it as a child (minus the magic potion). Always wanted to live in such a Gaulish village.
No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency, The Series - set in Botswana, it reminds me so much of my home town. I just love the author's simplistic style.
Enid Blyton - she shaped my childhood. I loved the imaginary world she drew me into.

Songs:

Joy to the World! - and any classic Christmas Carol...
Ave Maria - it's hauntingly beautiful
No Woman No Cry :D ...I pretend I'm in Jamaica when I hear it.
Eternal Flame - the love song of love songs (okay, fine that's Unchained Melody)...hard to not reach back into the past with songs like these.

Gotta say this was HARD to do . Once I got started I was wondering what I had gotten myself into. Clearly these are not my ALL time favourites - there are way too many to mention, plus the limitation of it matching my name. I had to rack my brain quite a bit. Now I need to lie down...

Chicken Broth

2011-03-01T17:40:00.005+05:30

I am a firm believer of Chicken Soup for the body. I would rather not comment on what's good for the soul :D

When ever I am down with a cold or fever I just LOVE to have some chicken soup - the creamy or clear brothy types - I don't really care. I made some soup for a good friend the other day. She had a bad throat pain, I was bored, and so voila! She said she really enjoyed it. Well actually, so did I. So I decided to put up my first ever food-related post, a recipe for some good ole chicken broth:

Must-have ingredients:

Chicken pieces lightly browned in butter/oil - bones and a little fat will help with flavour
Freshly, roughly ground pepper
Ginger (chopped julienne)
Garlic bruised
Salt to taste
Lemongrass or Lemon/Lime zest
Water (just enough to submerge everything - or maybe a litre, I dunno)
At least 2 veggies

Optional ingredients:

Green chillies (one big with a slit - or depending on how spicy you want it)
Spinach finely chopped (amazing flavour - I use it in almost ALL my dishes)
Carrots
Beans
Caramelized onions
Tomatoes
Pumpkin
Leeks
Peas
Bell Peppers
Spring onion
What ever the hell veggie you like - the more the merrier

With the exception of the pepper, throw in ALL the ingredients into a pressure cooker and cook for about 5 whistles on a low flame OR into pot and boil for about 2 hours. Rest for ten minutes, stir well, scoop out the broth into a bowl and fill in with veggies and pieces of chicken, garnish with roughly ground pepper and serve.

Addendum - 5 March 2011

The veggies might get mushy in a pressure cooker - but I kind of like it that way. If you don't, it might be good idea to leave out the beans, and substitute the tomato with a puree or sauce.

The Last Hour

2011-02-23T23:13:00.002+05:30

This is the last hour of my twenties - okay last 46 minutes any way. I was sipping Horlicks and staring blankly at the comp screen for 15 minutes. Will this birthday be any different from the rest? I think so. For many it is not such a big deal. It's just another birthday. One day merging into the next - dusk to dawn, to dusk again. But that transition from one decade to the next, I feel, begins painfully at 30. When I was 10, turning 11 wasn't such a big deal cos 13 was the magic number - the awesome (read gawky n confused) Teens! When I went from 19 to 20, there was that sweet nostalgia (and some trauma) of the teen years, but the excitement of being in college and independent left me clueless about any thing I would feel a further ten years down the line. At 20, turning 30 seemed far far away. I was young, dreamy and idealistic - and completely foolish about notions of love and romance. But now, at 30, turning 40 or even 50 doesn't seem too far off - and I strongly suspect it's my lack of achievement in any sphere in life that leaves me bereft of joy and in total darkness.

Okay I lie. There is one spark. A teensy tiny ray of light in my life that is growing strong and fierce. I smile now when I think of him - I actually have a giant grin on my face. Here's what will make my 30s the most awesome decade of all: my son. The best is yet to come.

Going to bed now. Sleep is precious.

New Year's Solutions

2011-01-28T18:21:00.002+05:30

1. I will moisturize more often - dry skin gets itchy and scratching away in public as though you're providing a safe harbour for a family of fleas is SO not attractive.
2. I will not cry over things I cannot control - child trafficking, lost puppies, death - I have enough problems without adding these to my list, making me more a part of the problem than part of the...yep, solution.
3. I will drink more water - I'm hitting 30 next month - I've read a million articles in Cosmo and Femina alone that tell me water is the best way to retain my youthful looks (yes, you've read them too - they're those tiny bits of advice hidden between the wrinkle cream ads).
4. Curries, soups, stews - I will master them one at a time. I will not give up just because one flopped!
5. I will water the poor plants that are struggling for survival in my balcony garden. I made fish curry the other day with two of my own homegrown tomatoes - fruits of my MIL's labour!
6. I am gonna start using all the perfumes I've been collecting for close to 16 years. The more I save em for a special occasion, the more I seem to accumulate them and, quite frankly, they're getting to be a pain to lug around. EVERY day henceforth, is a special day - it doesn't matter that I'll only be going out to buy groceries for the next year or so.
7. It's time I started to glue together the broken stuff in my life - my heart, various promises, my Bible (it's been through a rough patch since 2006 and is nearly falling apart). No more carrying baggage from the past.

I wasn't sure how many "solutions" I could come up with but 7 seems a good enough start for a new year!

The Hole In My Heart

2010-11-21T20:58:00.003+05:30

I am haunted by a TED Talk video friends put up on Facebook. I've been feeling deeply depressed, disturbed and walking around teary-eyed for the past two days. In order to know why, you should first watch this video before you read any further. It's by a social activist called Sunitha Krishnan and it's about human trafficking. While initially I DID wish I did not watch this video, I realize I cannot forever live in the wonderland that's in my head, that I must accept the world for what it is, and in my own way work to bring some light into the darkness that is in my heart.

This post is not about Sunitha, much as I admire her and her work. I have read about her before, but this video has really moved me to tears of sadness and bitterness. Immense anger wells in me - I feel so helpless, as though I should have done something to save those little children from their horrible ordeal. I prayed that Jesus would take them - I really did. But even in death, I wonder, who would visit their grave, or place flowers there, or say a small prayer for their little souls? Their faces haunt me as I think about what they went through. I want to scream and hit out at someone! For a fleeting moment I even thought it would be worth it to go to hell if I could just get my hands on the men who do such acts.

This post is to remember little Pranitha, Shaheen and Anjali - you are precious in the eyes of the Lord my little ones. I never knew you but I love you already...

The Jungle Mama

2010-11-15T16:06:00.006+05:30

I am a mother.

The statement above should say it all, but you know me, I'm a woman of many words (as are ALL women some would say). If you noticed, I haven't blogged in a while. My son is two months old today :O)

So much has happened since I found out I was pregnant. I was just two weeks into a corporate job in an international bank in Hyderabad. Four months (and all the nausea) later, my better half gets a new/better offer in Bangalore. Of course it was no secret we were dying to get out of Hyderabad - but I had all my maternity leave etc. worked out when this happened. Though I can't say I loved the job, I definitely enjoyed earning money again, making friends, interacting with people in a new environment, the politics, drama, and of course the targets we had to meet. It was stressful - but when compared to the ONE YEAR of sitting at home looking after house and dog, it was awesome - I was reluctant to give it up. Also, being with child, I was terrified of what it meant to no longer bring home my share of the income. As it is in life, hubby's career took priority and it took us almost 3 months to settle down in Blore what with him working late and me waddling around like a duck.

Before I knew it, the big day had arrived and I was pretty much alone through the whole experience (God was with me). My in-laws arrived the morning he was born. I went into labour 24 hours earlier. My Mum arrived a week after (for just a precious week). God sent me good people to get me through what they call a "normal" delivery. All I am gonna say is, it is no surprise women don't talk about childbirth much with other women. My definition of "normal" has completely changed.

I would love to go into all the minor details of how much I am loving my current role but my son is now my top priority. I have started this blog post a million times since he was born. I have decided to start a new blog called The Jungle Mama - and am trying to restrict my posts to 100 words - just to get used to noting down my thoughts and ideas in as few words as possible. This may eventually become 200 words if the effort seems too much. To be honest, it is less about the effort and more about how little time I have between feeding munchkin, changing diapers, washing mats, etc. But THIS blog will definitely stay alive for when ever I want to go into long, drawn out epics - the shenanigans are not over! Trust you are all well? Take care.

This last line is for YOU Lord: thank you for this small miracle you have entrusted to our care.

Don't Get Your Panties in a Bunch

2010-03-21T20:54:00.009+05:30

My primary school had a fire station just across the road. Okay, I suppose this depends on which part of the school you're in. Well you could see this fire station right from our playground where we had our breaks and lunch - and it was a real treat to see those shiny red fire engines drive in and out, the sirens on full blast. At times we almost took it for granted. Imagine our joy when we were told that we were having a class trip to the fire station right out of the blue! The excitement of just crossing the street was too much for us. The place was mighty and impressive - but it was the red fire trucks that brought stars to our eyes. We had firefighters all decked up in their gear, giving us a tour and explaining to us the dangers of something as simple as playing with a box of matches. All of that was great - but they left pièce de résistance for the end. You know that fireman's pole that they slide down when a fire alarm goes off? Well here's a pic just for a visual treat anyway:

That's a really shiny pole isn't it? Yes well, we were told that we'd all be getting a chance to slide down this pole - or so we assumed because all the boys got to go first, one by one and some whiners even wanted a second chance. Hey get in line buddy!!! When the last of the boys had had his turn, the teachers casually told the girls, oops, sorry, we don't have the time! Did I curse? No. Was I enraged? I don't remember. Was I disappointed and hurt? Yes - very much so. Do you know what explanation they gave us? We girls were in tunics, and so our panties would show - and that's unladylike. Never in my life did I wish more that I was born a boy. This was probably where the FIRST seeds of feminist ideology were sown. How old was I? Some where between 7 and 11 years old. I was upset with the world and knew very early in life that a girl's path was always more troublesome than that of a boy's - no matter how privileged you are. I guess our teachers had truly good intentions at heart. I mean, what if, in allowing us girls to indulge in this minor glory, we turned out like this:

Let it not be said that our teachers never looked out for us. But it is not teachers alone that shape our lives. Our parents, the church, extended family members and, of course television too shapes our minds and the limits to which we will go. To use an analogy from the sitcom Friends, while sexual promiscuity of both sexes was not at ALL considered a big deal, Chandler was always picked on for his smoking habit. Who draws these lines? Society, or the few individuals with the power and money to do so?

I'm digressing. I guess what I am really saying is - if I am blessed with children, I would rather have 5 girls, or 5 boys but not a combination of the two (yes, I am all for "big families" but one delivery could change all that I'm told). While I realize that this power lies only in God's hands (and I prefer to have it this way no matter how much science advances) I can't help but WISH for it. I will love all my children equally no matter what. But I am terrified of limiting or denying one the pleasures over another simply because of their gender. I realize men and women can never be equal - we're built differently both physically and mentally to ever achieve that goal. We're just asking for an equal CHANCE at everything - no matter how ridiculous it may seem. It's during the early years of our life that our personalities are developed - and for the most part it influences ALL our actions and our decisions unless we make a conscious effort to change it.

I am making a conscious effort to ease my fear of cars and driving. From an early age, I was told that girls are not mechanically inclined, will never make good drivers and could never do "guy stuff" as well as a guy. As a result, while most of my girlfriends learnt to drive at a very early age, my baby brother knew at 12 what I STILL do not know at 29, I would RUN the other way if the car's bonnet was ever lifted for inspection. To me, looking in there was looking into a scary void - a deep hole which I might fall into and never get out of. As a result I used ALL sorts excuses to NOT learn. In 2004 I took my driver's license in India with a 15 day crash course of 5kms/day limit. Then I never got a car to practice. When I went to SA in 2006, I had no choice but to learn and my Dad put me onto the SAME lady who taught him driving more than 20 years ago. I was doing fine till I noticed in the rear view mirror that Dad was following me in his car and my brain just stopped functioning. Even the instructor was puzzled till she realized what the problem was and made me park on the side of the road till Dad drove past. My Dad and my brother are the best drivers I have ever seen and by the grace of God have not been in any accidents of note. Now I see that in my husband too. They OWN the car they drive - they don't let the car own them. They are in control - and it was a control I always envied and feared. I wanted that so badly. Now, circumstances are such that I BETTER learn because I cannot depend on my husband to take me everywhere. I want to be that someone that others can depend on and I see this as a HUGE disability in my independent streak. I don't like to feel helpless. It's an awful feeling.

I've decided that my daughters will learn to drive by the age of 12 - or when EVER they want to (but I draw the line at 16). But they will also learn to cook, clean and look after a man. I'm not saying that I'll the best teacher for that but I will do my best to ensure they know all the "womanly" duties - as well as the basics like changing a light bulb or a car tire. It is important to me that my daughters assert themselves not only as queens of their own homes but also that of their man's heart. So yes, scared or not, they gotta squeal when they see a bug and let their man take charge of the situation :O) It sounds very corny and Mills n Boonish. But basically, they should be able to and ALLOWED to do what ever they want. I guess I'm just writing all this down because when I DO become a parent - it is possible my whole world will turn upside down and my value system will go for a toss. I might try to protect this child from the world to a point of suffocation. I just want some thing to fall back on to remind myself that I too, was once a sane individual with good intentions at heart.

I thank God for my parents and for my upbringing. We cannot help screw up on many fronts when raising our children for we are parents for the first time. If you are a first born, like me - you will probably bear the brunt of their inexperience. But every child is different. There's no manual you can follow. Only personal experience. My Dad was our best friend from the day we were born - because he made a conscious effort to be different from HIS Dad who was a military man - it was always about discipline in their household and my Dad wanted us to be good friends instead. My Mum, to this day, blames him for giving us that freedom. Personally, I prefer to use my Dad's formula than deviate from it, no matter what the consequence. My folks did a darn good job with me and my brother I think. I may not have become a successful career woman for all my education but I have enough wisdom to know that we do not, and cannot know everything about life. We have to learn it the hard way. That's a pretty good start I think.

God save my children :O)

*All images are sourced from Google - I never know who to get copyright permission from. Please don't sue me. I make no income out of this blog.

Sofa, Not So Good

2010-02-11T21:14:00.003+05:30

I've started work - in a bank of all places. It's too early to say what I feel about it right now. It's yet another career line in my long line of career flops and once again, totally unrelated to anything I have done before. I sat around for a year not knowing what I wanted to do with my life and when this job found me I just decided I might as well make some money while I ponder. It's a lonely job - no one talks to any one - not much women, and I'm a little apprehensive about talking to the men without it being construed as something else. As I just started there hasn't been much to do. But I do feel the indirect pressure of what is expected of me in the near future a LOT. I leave home before my husband and return much after him, tired and depressed. I have lost all interest in cooking. Frankly, I do not have the energy. My biggest fear, even now, is not losing this job but losing out on the little things I like to do in the routine of caring for my husband like making him tea, or even a decent meal. These two weeks he has been taking my tantrums silently, doing the dishes, caring for the dog, packing my lunch, and a million other stuff. All I did was offer a brash comment that he was finally doing his part of the household chores. Though in the past, even when he offered to help I would say, nostrils flaring, "What the hell, I am jobless at home any way, it's my fate to do all this, I'll do it myself!" The poor man never won an argument. In fact I would say, marrying me, he has lost out on a lot in life. How ever, pulling my self-worth down even lower than it is was not the intention of this post.

My first week at work, Hyde behaved himself exceptionally well, I mean not even a chewed up roll of newspaper, or a hair out of place. Then the weekend arrived, it was his birthday and we decided to give him a really beefy, hearty meal, a whole LOT of treats and plenty of love (which he gets any way - but this time without me yelling at him). Since Monday how ever, he has destroyed so many things in the house, each night resulting in us shouting and banishing him to the balcony. Today when I walked in my husband had a huge smile on his face and big hug for me when he opened the door. When I glanced around the room, I noticed our brown sofa had been ripped open with some stuffing pulled out and the sponge showing through. I started bawling. See when a girl gets married, and has lived out of hostels and relatives homes for the past ten years of her life - she has a need to set up her house as beautifully as possible, or as her dog will allow. We spent a lot of money (it's a lot for us) on this fake leather sofa and it really was the only nice thing in our living room. It's actually a sofa-cum-bed. Our TV is on my brother's computer table as we couldn't find a TV stand high enough to avoid Hyde's shenanigans. Now, he has also ripped off the red border on the table and the wall piping for the aerial wire. All this is APART from the sink pipes that he has chewed up since he was a pup. We don't even use the hand wash sink any more because we have replaced that pipe so many times, we figured we'll just wash our hands in the bathroom from now on. The rest of the furniture is against the walls just so our dog has enough room to run and play. Basically, I was very happy with my home till this idiot dog started going nuts.

On seeing our sofa in this pathetic condition I bawled my eyes out, out of extreme frustration - first against my husband who promised, PROMISED me that we could manage a dog in our apartment, and then complete rage against Hyde who I was already imagining killing, strangling, abandoning somewhere. After the tears subsided - I thought about all the awful stuff that just went through my head and wondered how, HOW could I regret Hyde for...a piece of furniture? Then I cried some more. It's not just the hormones - it's complete helplessness at the situation. Giving him away was never an option. Keeping him means destruction to more stuff that we can't afford to lose. I guess we will have to read a million other doggy psyche articles than we already do on the Net and pray for a solution. Right now we are completely ignoring him. He will not sleep in our bedroom tonight where he has his own rug on the floor by my side of the bed. He knows what he did was wrong. Drag him to the sofa and you will see him cowering in guilt. Dogs do not care as much about food as they do for our attention and love. (But even for punishment we would never deny him food.) For all the destruction he did this week I forgave him (it's not that hard when you see his face) and let him sleep in our room, but NOT tonight. And while I am not so angry to send him away, it still hurts that he destroyed my first sofa, probably my ONLY sofa for a while. May be there are some lessons to be learnt from all this. May be God is saying, "Don't be so materialistic." But it was my first sofa. OUR first sofa. No other sofa in future will ever matter as much as this one. Even if it was pure leather. I'm crying as I type this but feel free to laugh if you want, cos I know I will a few years from now. I'm tired. Hubby is eating supper alone while I type this :o( (Yet another change in our life style that I really hate, but I just had to type this out.)

Race

2010-01-16T13:38:00.002+05:30

When you saw the title, did you envision people of various races or did you remember the running races in school (the only thing I used to excel at until the fatty teen years hit me)?

India and Australia are in the news once again but for once, and sadly, not about cricket. I really can't put together the attacks as being racially motivated for two reasons:

1. I have close family members and friends living, working and studying in Australia for many years now and none of them have come across any attacks, let alone racially motivated ones.
2. I cannot for the life of me understand why ONLY college students are the ones under attack without ASSUMING (yes, I am an ass) that there MUST be some fault on the part of the student. Sadly, some of our college students (the rowdy sect) here in India are the sad examples we have to compare them with.

The Indian media are doing nothing to help the situation, especially those news channels who want to be seen as the "voice of the public" and are jointly voicing their rage, as A.R. Rahman said, "to paint the entire situation in the same colour". The reason why our people are able and willing to raise their voices against Australia, in MY opinion, is because:

1. This is Australia - and not, say, the Gulf.
2. The victims are children of upper-middle class families, and not those of the poor labour class.

We have many atrocities happening around the world to Indians in the name of race, religion, caste and status - but those people have no one to speak out for them. So you pick on the one country you CAN lash out at, becasue you have nothing to fear from them. If you have the time, read this article, if you don't, read just story number III. titled Hidden in plain view.

I feel really bad for the parents of these children. Not only would they have taken loan up on loan to finance their child's tuition, they sent them to a foreign land in the hopes of them having a new life, one that is promised by the Australian government when roping in students from around the world. But this is the real world, and Australian cities are struggling to deal with the influx of immigrants - crime and violence is a GIVEN - as it was once in New York (still is) and London and other such developed cities. Just imagine how the Australian descendants of the pioneers must feel - to have their nation, once peaceful, ripped apart by the immigrant invasion and then being blamed for being racists? Does this make for good international relations? It doesn't make sense to say that they need OUR skill and are luring US to their country - they do so because they hope that when you opt for a good life, you are willing to abide by the norms of their society and the law of their land. The parents of the victims have every right to need SOME one to blame for their loss. The media on the other hand, has its role to play in portraying the truth. The truth is that there have been MANY attacks on citizens in Australia - and focusing on ONLY Indians, making it seem as if no one else was hurt, is unfair and wrong. Leave their law to take its course - we KNOW it's far superior to our own justice system, else why else would we choose to live there?

Sisters of the Bra-therhood

2010-01-16T12:45:00.002+05:30

About a week ago, there was a fad going around on Facebook. It was all in the name of good fun until a few people started to get judgmental about it, and me, being the hot-headed fool that I am, I reacted. The following is what I shared as a note on my FB profile on 9th Jan:

>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Colour Blind

I think this is the first note of mine of a personal nature - partly inspired by all the talk going on around the morality of posting your bra colour as a status and partly the Indian media's coverage of attacks on Indian students in Australia. What do the two incidents have in common? Nothing. What is common is the REACTION to it. People object, moralise and point fingers because they CAN.

How does posting your bra colour bring about Breast Cancer Awareness? Hmmm... I jotted down a colour in the spirit of the moment but am still in denial of the fact that I could be a possible victim to the disease. When I think now, geez if I lost my boobs to cancer, I wouldn't even NEED a bra (an awful device that restricts your rib cage and possibly does more damage to your breasts than if they were allowed to swing free - pendulum like, as God intended) let alone wonder about what colour it would be. Bras have been and always will be an instrument of tittilation. If you're so offended by it - take a stand to ban bra ads, or bras altogether. But do not judge those who chose to post a colour as a status as being wild or immoral - cos it's not like they said, "Hey guys, I'm wearing a black lacy underwire bra - it's padded and helps defy gravity - the cherry on top is the tiny pearl in the centre - oh if only you could see it, as your limited imagination couldn't possibly help you visualise what I have just described." You may ask then, "What if people start posting their underwear colour for prostate cancer or cancer of the uterus?" Simple - underwear was not invented for your uterus or prostate.

I guess I am just really pissed off at the idea that my girlfriends are considered morally corrupt by something as innocent as this. Judge ME all you like - I never once claimed to be virtuous and holy. But know that if you have bought a sexy bra when clearly, a cotton, conical, Naidu Hall variety would do, EVEN if it was to tittilate your husband - the INTENTION is STILL tittilation (you're no better than the rest of us). Don't portray breasts as being "dirty" when the intention behind its creation is so beautiful. The discussion that should be going on is when next are you going for your breast examination (with a doc, not with your better half - unless your doc IS your better half)...instead people love to sit and wonder, "Hmmm...this girl who wrote her bra colour as a status - how desperate IS she to get some." It doesn't at all seem to matter that this memo was intended for women ONLY to begin with. These same people who judge wouldn't think twice to stand up for say, lung cancer, cos it's less embarrassing to walk around with placards of lung images and cigarette stubs.

Before I rant any more, I just want to thank my girlfriends who sent this forward to me and inspired the puritans to come out and point fingers, thereby pissing me off. Because of you, I have decided to go in for my first breast examination ever this month. For those of you who were just tittilated by that - it's tit for tat my friend.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

When I thought about this episode afterwards (I tend to sit and think about stupid things when I am bored, or fume in frustration because some irrelevant person out there left crude comments) I realised that maybe my reaction was a part of my upbringing. No, my mum did not teach me to flash my breasts to get attention! She will go into shock if she even reads this. I grew up in South Africa. Over there, breasts are as big a deal as it is in any other part of the world but all for different reasons. When the women there dress, they have NO (as in zilch, zero, nada) qualms about partly exposing their breasts (not unlike how Indian women don't seem to mind exposing their navel while wearing a sari). Being a culture that only started to wear clothes about less than a hundred years ago, going top less is the least of their problems. Even now, when I go to SA, I try not to buy too many items of clothing because it is quite difficult to find tops that do not have ample cleavage. When we used to have cultural celebrations in high school, girls OUR age (when breasts had already made their presence known) would dance their tribal dance in grass skirts and...go topless! Some, who were really shy (products of the "civilized" era) would wear their bra. The boys would hoot and the girls would giggle and titter. But in NONE of our minds did the thought cross that the girls up on that stage were immoral. We quietly accepted it as a part of the way things were. Because God gave us breasts (albeit in various sizes) to feed our children. If it tittilates men, I do not see why that should be construed to be OUR fault and I do not see why we should be ashamed of it!

I guess what really bugs me of late is the pretence of being a goody-two shoes for the public eye. A person who chooses not to reveal their bra colour (may be because they didn't think it would help Breast Cancer in any way) will quietly ignore it - this to me is a good person. A person who chooses to not reveal her bra colour, and then reveals to the world WHY she didn't do it, there by bringing a lot of finger pointers out of the woodwork - NOT good person. A person who DID reveal a bra colour, because to her, it's just a colour on a status - will probably never do so again because of all this hype, a public eye questioning her value as a human being.

On a completely different note: I just watched my first episode of "Meet the Natives" on Nat Geo last night and I am a huge fan! It's a hilarious account of tribal people being exposed to the modern world and it had me in splits. The funny part was, it wasn't the tribals I was laughing at but at the so-called modern world. We have made so many social rules and norms for ourselves that we have forgotten some of the tried and tested traditions of our ancestors - the stuff that truly matter. It's a good laugh - if you get Nat Geo channel, try not to miss it.

Hippy New Year

2010-01-13T13:11:00.004+05:30

Helloooooooooooooooooooo :O)

I am back. I am happy. I am scared to be this happy. I am happy because I am at peace. Our families have met and all is well with the world. I have finally decided to get off my lazy ass and truly commit to a job hunt, even be open to a line of work that is alien to me. While I knew all along that not everyone gets their dream job, the least I could do, for my SELF, is put away all doubts and fears and accept that every job has its own challenges. The reason I am able to accept this is because a lot of worry has disappeared from my heart and mind and I am willing to completely give myself to something new and exciting. Some times, you have so much occupying your mind that it seems almost unfair to commit to a job and not do justice to it. I have done that before and while the job did give me ample distraction from the worry - I was never doing my best at the job, and knowing that now makes me feel really guilty. I know that worries will come and go, and one can't quit work so we can deal with it, but for as long as you are unemployed, it makes you all the more reluctant to actually look.

I would like to thank Reflections for this award - I am SO excited as this is my first blog award ever. Thank you Nancy!:

Not Deaf, Just Dumb

2009-12-15T22:44:00.004+05:30

Two men are at a social gathering. A typical event in an SA Mallu's home: families get together at host location (usually referred to as "parties" but has none of the fun one normally associates with the word) and soon as the greetings are over each member spilts up to their various corners almost at the door. It's almost as if this is their one small break away from their family and responsibilities. The men go off into the lounge - whiskey is served, for some a necessitiy, for others - just to have something to hold in their hand, discussions and arguments are being devised in their heads as they hear the chink of ice in their glass. The topics mostly revolve around politics, cinema, and how great the Malayali culture is. The women automatically congregate at the kitchen to help the hostess make salad as she pours them a glass of sherry - the only alcoholic drink these women will consider because someone told them it's what women drink and was therefore acceptable. The children scatter in multiple directions depending on their age - the teens sit in a corner, brooding, the pre-teens discuss television, and the toddlers are trapped under the attention of cheek pinchers. As the revelry goes on, the meal is served, each group starts to slowly mingle with the other, and very soon, some one puts on a movie cassette and like ants to a picnic - every one gathers in front of the idiot box. The time: some where in the mid-1990s. The movie is in Hindi: 1942 - A Love Story. The scene: when the hero Anil Kapoor first sees the heroine Manisha Koirala. It was, indeed, love at first sight...and made him break out into song.

At this point, one of the men, a father of three, asks the other, a father of two, in Malayalam:
"Is such an intense feeling possible at FIRST sight?" (His tone is laced with mild skepticism.)
To this, the FO2 replies almost immediately and with great conviction:
"Yes yes yes. Of course it is possible!"
"Really?" (Doubtful, but also in awe of the possibility that it could be true.)
"Yes, I am telling you. This DOES happen in real life." (Said with such faith that one almost wonders if he speaks from personal experience.)

Little did the FO2 realise that his teenage daughter was standing close by listening to this conversation. Though she did not know it then, she would cause her father a lot of heart break in the future. But for now, she would never forget this conversation for as long as she lived for it soothed her troubled teenage mind about all the sudden longings she was feeling for a boy in school. She wasn't a loon after all, praise God!

A fool in love remembers only dialogues and situations that are acceptable to her state of mind. The dire warnings, possible chinks in the relationship, family disconnect - nothing matters. To her, love conquers all.

Some times it is so much harder to face the path you have chosen (against all advice) than the path you have been pushed on to. There is always that pressure to make the right decision, say the right thing. If you do ONE thing wrong then they are waiting to jump out to say, "Aha! I TOLD you!"

Nothing in life comes easy. It's one of those lines you are always told but when you experience it it's as though the literary greats came down from heaven and their heavenly glow filled the cavity in your head, gave you some clarity. My parents and my in-laws are meeting for the first time ever in two weeks. They have been talking on the phone for a while but the actual meeting is only happening now because my folks live in SA. Needless to say (but I'll say it any way) I am really stressed about it. I pray that it all goes well, even if it is all superficial. I hope none of the anger and resentment come out in words - well intended or otherwise. It's a little too soon for everything to be all hunky dory. Jesus Christ tells us that in order to be forgiven, we must first forgive others. Sadly, there is just too much anger in my heart aimed at multiple directions, and I find my self pretty hard to tolerate of late. Where did this one year go by I do not know. All I did was take care of a house, a dog and a husband - and dwell on events of the past. I have done nothing productive (unless you count the scales on my hands from washing dishes) nor have I added any value to my life (okay, I forgot all the blog reading I've done - it's just made my to-do list miles longer). If any thing, I think my husband aged five years because of my ranting. I am now trying to convince him his grey hairs make him look distinguished. This only makes him more upset as "distinguished" is a word he associates with a gentleman in his mid-forties. He is a teenage rockstar at heart despite his 31 years.

This will be my last post for the year. I just want to wish you all a blessed Christmas and a fruitful New Year. It's a standard wish one sees in budget Hallmark cards but it's also a universal season that means different things to different people. For me, Christmas is the most beautiful time on earth - a feeling associated with wonderful memories of my childhood past, the promise of wonderful memories yet to be had, and the magic of Hollywood which adds so much colour and vitality to how we perceive it. There is the religious aspect of it also, which is extremely personal to me. I once played the Angel Gabriel in a Nativity play in church - at that time, it was all about wearing a beautiful white dress. But even as a child, I watched with bated breath as Mary brought out baby Jesus from the manger. Lucky for me all my lines were over. All the children watched this and understood it to be a glorious event...even if baby Jesus was played by a doll. And the significance of Mary being a virgin did not register to any of us at that time. I think the beauty of this season is the symbolism of family and commitment - of bonds that transcend all barriers. I'm really looking forward to seeing my parents and grandparents - the whole family of cousins, excited because my baby brother is getting married, a little jittery about the "family meet" - but over all, my heart is filled with the promise of what the new year will bring. May you all be surrounded by love this holiday season.

I always say, if someone else can say it better then they should. So, to quote Charles Dickens, "God bless us, every one!"

P.S.: Movie to watch this season, preferably in 3D - A Christmas Carol

Tell Me Your Story

2009-10-29T12:07:00.003+05:30

Last week we had a friend stay with us. We left home pretty late to see him off and Secunderabad Station being so vast with ten platforms, the only access being via the over bridge, we were in a bit of a panic cos for some reason no one seemed to know the time of the train and there was quite a bit of unnecessary confusion. It was finally established that the train hadn't even arrived and was actually going to be late. We then settled down and I was quite distracted as I had had quite a few emotional upheavals this year and it was starting to take its toll on me. It wasn't PMS, if that's what you're thinking. I left my husband and his friend to chat and started to wander about, drawn to a noticeboard near the Railway Police Office.

It was a noticeboard for missing people. Faces of strangers in both colour and black & white stared back at me - strangers of all ages and circumstances, elderly and disabled. I had heard many stories of men who abandoned their elders in far off places where they could not even communicate to others and make their plight known. I was mostly moved by the images of the children for they outnumbered the rest, and many had been missing for years. I knew that if they were still on this noticeboard, they had not returned to their loved ones. What was their story, I wondered, as I searched their faces. Who were they, where were they, what had they become in the years that have passed them by? Did they wonder if their parents deliberately abandoned them? When we go some day, we will always have someone who knows us to tell our story. Who would tell theirs? Here's a story for you:

A young mother is off to join her husband who is settled in a foreign land. Apart from her three-year-old son placed comfortably on her hip and her six-year-old daughter who holds her grandfather's hand, she is armed with luggage which not only consists of their clothes and belongings, but kitchen ware such as idli paathrams and puttu kutti, for who knew if this foreign land had such things. She had just made an arduous train journey from Chennai to Mumbai and was on her way to a relative's house to spend the night as their flight was only the next day. These were hard times and Mumbai being as vast as it was, it seemed pointless to take a cab when the metro was right there. If you are clueless about the Mumbai metro, have a look at this amusing video ad on You Tube before you read on. In fact, any Indian metro is no different during rush hour. Amidst all the pushing and shoving, this young woman's father helped his granddaughter onto the train first and then turned to take the luggage. Before he could even turn around with the luggage, the train had started to move. The little girl, with innocent glee waved goodbye to her grandfather, mother and baby brother without a clue as to her destiny. She had no idea where this train was going - nor was she perturbed by her grandfather's shouts of panic. An adventure was what she was hoping for!

You may be wondering what happened to a six-year-old girl who goes missing in a metro station: that too of all cities, Mumbai. One often hears about the indomitable (I use this word today to honour Asterix, who has just turned 50) spirit of Mumbai on the news when a bomb blasts or when Mother Nature unleashes her fury with a flood. What ever the movies may depict to us about big cities being a bad world, this kind of spirit can only come from the goodness of one's heart and is not selective, based on caste or religion. What happened to this little girl? Did she wander around aimlessly, befriended by beggars who took her into their fold? Was she accosted by a by a pimp to live the rest of her days as a prostitute? She she grow up among eunuchs or get deposited at a convent to be raised by nuns? It all makes for a great movie doesn't it?

The little girl saw her family slowly become smaller and smaller as the train moved away at alarming speed, and then suddenly felt the warmth of a large hand grasp hers. As she looked up to see who it was, she saw a man who was waving and shouting to someone outside. When they came to the next stop, this man took her hand and led her out of the station where he stood in another queue. She had no idea who he was, nor did she protest his taking control of the situation. He then led her back to the platform, onto a train, which, while it slowly came to a stop, she saw the familiar face of her grandfather peering anxiously through every window. When they got out of the train she was engulfed in a hug, though all she was aware of was that the adventure had come to an end. The most clear image in her head is that of her grandfather hugging this stranger and thanking him profusely.

That little girl was me. I don't remember this man's face at all. In fact, I didn't think about this episode till many, many years later. No one in our family would talk about it but parts of the memory kept coming back to me. These past ten years, especially after coming to India and becoming exposed to train travel, I began to think about this man again. I don't know his name, or if he was Hindu, Muslim or Christian. In 2006, I was in SA when the Mumbai train blasts happened and I prayed that he and his family were not on the train at the time. I thought about him during the floods and hoped he was safe. For all the little stories that make up my life, this one has been the most difficult to write about because it happened very early in my life (22 years ago) and had the possibility of having the deepest impact had my destiny been anything else. The entire course of my life would have changed, and without my family, I can only think of worst-case scenarios. In fact, my father recently over heard me telling this story to a friend and I saw he was extremely disturbed by it - more so because he was not there, and so I decided to not ask my mother about it because she WAS. Mumbai Metro is as crazy today as it was twenty years ago, and with all the current technology such as security TVs and camera phones, one wonders how it is possible for any person to completely disappear. And yet, they do. So many still go missing today. But I didn't. What if God was one of us? He most certainly was there in this man, who guided me back to my family. And though I may not have become someone famous or contributed something major to mankind, thanks to this man, I had the blessing of living a good life. I was loved, cherished, appreciated, educated, well fed and well dressed. If I ever had cause to doubt God's existence in my life BEFORE the age of six, I most certainly needn't doubt Him after.

Living Vicariously

2009-10-27T14:43:00.003+05:30

Yes, the title says it all. I take great joy in living through others' experiences. This could have to do with the fact that I am totally jobless...but I would do this even if I was employed I am sure. Most of my present is entwined with aspects from the past - both positive and negative. I love listening to old songs, reading popular authors, taking paths already trodden. If I am to try anything new, it will only be because it came in search of me, not because I went in search of it. I am not even sure this is an accurate description of me, but hey, do we really know who we truly are, completely? A most positive influence in this regard is one of my college profs, Mr Jojan, who introduced us to Gabriel Garcia Marquez - I would go on and on about his books and my boyfriend (now my husband) gifted me Love in the Time of Cholera (it really is a lot more romantic than choleric) for my birthday. Today, anything written by Marquez is on my to-read list.

But it is not so much what a person has to say but the passion with which they convey it that intrigues me. For this reason, I am deeply in love with Susan Russo (okay, her talent, not HER) of Food Blogga. When she talks food, she talks not only method, but her Italian family's traditional influence, modern variations, combined with awesome photography that makes her food look as tasty as it sounds and an incredible sense of humour to match. I have been meaning to blog about her for months now but I am reading up many of her posts myself from when she first started blogging. Reading her stuff makes me wanna shift house immediately JUST so I can use my brand new microwave oven (bought in Feb '09) which is now collecting dust (our apartment isn't wired to support a microwave can you believe it???) or sand and paint a small coffee table that my in-laws got a carpenter to make from a bedroom door that my husband broke down when he got locked out of his room (his bus ticket was inside and he was coming to Chennai to see me :o). I have vowed never to get rid of that table, but our dog has already chewed off the corners so I might not have to get rid of it at all...he will reduce it to dust in a few months. Any how, Food Blogga is an inspiration and my poor husband prays that I will one day free him from the palak-dal and pumpkin variations I have been experimenting with.

My to-do list is a mile long...I have been living on lists all my life. Okay, well from high school any way. Flipping through old diaries one can tell I was a firm believer of the fact that if it's not written down and scanned through every day, it'll never get done. Right now, some of the things left to do are:

1. Find a tailor - I am desperate for a good tailor who is also reasonably priced. When I was in Blore for two years I would hoard my materials and run to my tailor in Chennai on the rare occasion that I visited. But being in Hyderabad that just won't do. I am so morbid about wasting good material on a lousy tailor. And if it is a sari blouse that gets screwed up then just imagine the nightmare I can become.

2. Get a check-up. Having looked out for myself these past 10 years, my health has always had the least priority. While I am physically active, it doesn't compensate for actual exercise (also on my list) and being bed-ridden is the most soul-crushing experience in the world. I never want to be that cinematic cliche who finds out she's been living with some strange disease for years and it chooses to reveal itself at an important life-changing phase (apart from the actual disease being life changing I mean).

3. Slowly ease my self of the addiction to Facebook (long-term goal) and make it a weekly experience than a secondly one. Facebook is another way in which I live vicariously. While I thrive on seeing people I know visit my dream places, my husband refuses to even glance at them saying that it is more important that we try and make our dreams a reality too. While I know he is right, I am unable to take any positive action towards that goal. It's just SO much easier to flip through the pics.

4. Yoga. Outside of the exercise factor, I am convinced this method will work wonders both mentally and physically if one is committed to it. Or, may be I just say that cos my purple yoga mat is collecting dust and I have to convince my mother that it was worth the Rs.800 that I paid for it. She laughed when I told her I bought a yoga mat. Her response, laced with sarcasm of course, was "Oh my God, HOW did people EVER do yoga for centuries without their very own synthetic, purple yoga mat!?!"

5. I HAVE to get over my addiction to movies and TV series (I can't get enough of House, Grey's, CSI or Boston Legal). If I don't indulge in a little bit every day I feel as if my life just isn't worth living. I kid you not. I have this (false) notion that such episodes actually add value to my life...when in fact, nothing in my life changes. Nothing. Cinema has always been a part of our family routine from childhood and I do admit a lot of my thoughts and values are imbibed from it - but to completely give up living for it is absurd! I hope my folks don't ever read my blog.

It looks like this list could go on forever...it is slowly starting to resemble my "25 Things About Me" saga (yet to be published and available at a pirated books roadside vendor near you). I hope I can work on these 5 things for now and see where it takes me. Wish me luck!

Lend Me Your Year

2009-10-17T19:28:00.005+05:30

The year 2009 has not been good to my father: in January he lost his daughter to marriage (yes, that's me), then in July he lost his mother to the circle of life, and now his only big sister to complications from a badly done surgery just yesterday. My aunt played a huge role in my life from the day I was born: she was the one who named me (a huge fan of Jane Eyre)...and when my folks left me in India 10 years ago, she was the one who looked out for me like a mother hen - always fiercely protective and concerned for my well-being. There are not enough words to describe the love and care she has showered upon me, not to mention being a huge source of advice and counsel, a pillar of emotional support during my wedding (we're cut from the same cloth) and the one unlimited source of memories and information to my father's past which I could listen to for hours on end without ever getting bored. She was the one who introduced to me homemade delights such as kalakala and rose milk when I first came to India. When ever I eat these, I will be reminded of her. Apart from our mutual Piscean traits, people would say I have more in common with her than with my own Mum. All that goes on in my head now is why she had to go so young - she was only in her late 50s. As usual, I am trying to ease my guilt. When ever I visited Salem I always dropped by her place but never stayed the night even though she begged me to. I barely came for a weekend and always gave my grandma priority, telling myself that she would always be around but grandma wouldn't. Now I am just so angry with myself for taking her for granted.

We had pretty much lost her about two weeks ago - she was in a deep coma and didn't look like she would recover. Even the doctors wrote her off. But we had family and friends praying for her recovery even as we brought her home from the ICU to die. She miraculously regained consciousness, started eating, gained strength and was actively communicating with people. It was a ten day gap that God gave her to see her children and have them look after her, show her how much they loved her. I feel at peace knowing that I too was there seeing this recovery even though we were all convinced she was over the worst. I came back home with the feeling that all is right with the world. That's what makes this sudden turn so hard to take. Everyone has to go some time...but it is those who are left behind that can't accept this truth. Even one who has completed a circle of life (child-parent-grandparent) leaves a gaping hole in our lives when they go...an emptiness that never leaves you. People come into our lives and occupy spaces in our heart - this space is unlimited. That limit becomes defined when they leave. A new person can come along, but they'd occupy a new space, not fill an old one. The closer this person was to you, the harder it is to not disappear with them. It is at times like these that I thank God for my family, not just the close ones but the extended ones as well. Funerals and weddings are the one place we can piece together the missing puzzles of our loved ones. You'll always meet someone who has a fond memory of them that no one has heard of. It is through these memories that we keep them alive. I for one have a million memories of my aunt from my father. While in SA, all he did was talk about her and the things they got up to together, and what a wonderful example she set as a big sister (this talk usually happened right after my brother and I fought). What ever it is that God had planned for her, I know she left knowing that she was loved deeply. We will miss her.

2009-10-13T23:33:00.004+05:30

This post will have no title. Why? Because I say too much. Really. This has to stop...my NEED to say it ALL, the unabashed truth spewing forth only to destroy fragile egos. My life is a constant battle where I should always win the war of words. If someone asks you if you like a gift, fully comprehending your tastes and KNOWING this very taste is the EXACT opposite of the gift received, isn't it awkward of them to ask you, "Do you like it?" What are my options here? To tell the truth, or blatantly lie.

If it were a stranger I would not think twice - I would lie very badly. But how am I supposed to lie to someone who is supposed to know me, if not completely, at least more than any one else? In a relationship I give complete honesty because I expect it in return. If you think you know the answer, it is better to not ask at all. How I lasted this long in a relationship is truly beyond my comprehension. He has gone to bed pouting (not in a sexy Jolie sort of way, but more like a recalcitrant five-year-old - if he stomps his feet and air boxes I might just be tempted to sing Little Drummer Boy "pa rum pa pum pum") and I am left with facing tomorrow morning's grouch.

Yes yes I am an awful person...blah blah blah...tell me something I dunno.

I have no idea how to deal with such ego issues. Saying too much is bad, but to not say anything at ALL is worse...and I am mentally imbalanced to get a fine balance between these two. Marriages are made in heaven because only saints can live up to such expectations. Don't get me wrong, I am loving every moment of this. But surely there MUST be a way to communicate without saying ALL the wrong things? Else, I have to become an expert in white lies. My only fear is, in learning to master such a trick, will I ever know when a fast one is being pulled on me by anyone, and how far does one take these so-called white lies? Where do you draw the line? I obviously have some major trust issues.

"Ooohhh hon I LOVE it!" = This gift sucks but I love you too much to care.

Five years later...

"Sorry I'm late hon, got stuck in traffic." = The guys and I went out for a drink, which I would TELL you if I didn't have to deal with all your questions.

I suddenly have no clue about the point of this post. It could be that I am so sleepy, I am blabbering. I live life in the "what if" lane. What if I die? What if I live, after a close encounter with death? What if I have cancer - will I need radiation? What if I slip down the steps, fall and chip my teeth - I will never smile again. What if my dog starves if I go out to work? Yes, I know I am not alone but I also know us what-ifs are a sore bunch of losers. Often the ominous what-ifs never materialize and we end up regretting missed opportunities. It is based on these ridiculous what-ifs that I speak my mind. I fear more NOT knowing. The truth that is supposed to set us free often gets so tangled up that we choke on it. I feel a wave of poetic gibberish coming on so before I drag you all down with me, let me say goodnight. Goodnight.

Showers of Blessings

2009-08-18T15:12:00.007+05:30

There are many things in life for which I feel grateful and blessed, but last month I got 3 important ones all at once:

1. I completed my MBA dissertation and so can pursue life with all joy and enthusiasm and never ever again consider taking up academics ever AGAIN (until next time of course).
2. My in-laws have finally accepted our marriage and have come to Hyderabad to live with us.
3. My paternal grandmother passed away.

The first blessing has been talked about so much that even I am bored with it, on the second one I have TOO much to say and so have chosen to remain silent (but happy), so it'll have to be the third one that I talk about today - it's a goodbye I should have said in person.

If you've read one of my previous posts about my grandmother, you'll know that she wasn't one to give up on life, or to let life give up on HER that easily. It's so easy to talk good of those who are already gone, but like most Scorpio women I know, you gotta love em like hell in order to survive their stings. If you don't love them, you just can't be bothered to put up with them. There are two things that I genuinely regret when it comes to my grandma, and neither of them have to do with the fact that I didn't go to see her even once after I got married.

One very big regret is that I feel I did not try hard enough to get her to my wedding from Salem to Trivandrum. The reason why it was held in Trivandrum was so that my mother's parents could be there. The journey was too long and arduous for her to take. She was very weak and fragile and no one was willing to risk it. That was 6 months ago and on hindsight I feel it would have been worth the risk if she could have seen her first grand child get married. Because of the complications of our wedding at the time, I had gone to see her and received her blessings the week before the wedding. Then for 6 months we promised her we'd visit but it never happened. The reasons as to WHY we didn't seemed very important at the time but now they seem quite irrelevant. I wanted to go see her with my husband for the first time, and foolishly, I assumed she'd be around forever. We then decided to see her on the Independence Day weekend but on 27th July my aunt called and told me to not wait any longer as she's quite serious and was asking to see me. We took that news serious enough to immediately book a flight from Hyderabad to Coimbatore and then catch a bus to Salem from there, but not serious enough to feel any worry. Baby had done this before - and for this same reason my aunt didn't even bother to tell my Dad or his siblings because every time she did, the sons came running, Baby miraculously recovered, and random people would pass a comment that there was no need to make such a fuss and make others come from so far. So my better half and I jumped on our flight the very next day (I had only just met my in-laws 2 days before) and we were pretty excited - this was our first trip after our wedding. We laughed and acted silly and took goofy pics on the plane. We landed in Coimbatore and my phone started buzzing like crazy with msgs pouring in. I called my cousin and was told that Baby was gone. We had missed her by 3.5 hours. And so I say again, I wouldn't have minded if God had spared her 6 months of suffering and I had just some how taken her to be at my wedding. I know she wanted to be there badly. And I say this because I sure as hell wouldn't want to prolong my life if I cannot partake in the simple pleasures and if I am not in a position to make such a decision I am counting on my loved ones to do it for me, even with death as a possible risk. That's what living is all about. We cling to people and are scared to lose them but they might have the quality of life equivalent to that of a zombie! We cling to them for our own selfish purposes. Not because living a little longer does anything for them. Perhaps anger is a better word - regret doesn't quite cover it.

The church where my grandparents married in Vypeen, Cochin

My second deep regret is one that I have no control over - I wish I had been with her in my teen years so I could have learned cooking from her. I don't know if I WOULD have at that age. It's highly unlikely as we would have clashed. We're both very spirited and bossy in nature. When my parents left me under her guardianship ten years ago, I never quite felt I could even have a relationship with her. Perhaps I should be grateful for what I did have - had I continued my studies in South Africa our relationship would have been superficial and meaningless. But when I hear my father and my uncles talk about her cooking, I feel like I lost out on something that was my right. A lesson she should have passed on to me. One that is now lost as she has taken that talent with her. There's no recipe written down but many of the dishes are traditional Kerala cuisine that people do not even make in their homes today.

It broke my heart to see my uncle, aunt and their two children trying to contain their sorrow - they were the ones who looked after her these past 14 years - their lives have known nothing more than the simple act of coming home after work or school and going straight to her room to talk to her. When Baby died, her dog Jack (a Spitz mix) didn't eat for days and then ended up with severe vomitting and dehydration. After her funeral we let him into the house and the normally spirited creature walked in somberly and went straight to her room, sniffing her pillows, bed, the bathroom. His loss was the most visible. We held onto her for 2 days so Dad could reach from SA and see her one last time and then we sent her off in grand style. Right when we were about to start the funeral the heavens opened and the there was the greatest storm I had seen in ages. Yes, one may wonder isn't it to be expected during the monsoon season. But it was only cloudy days before and after her death. It was only during the funeral that the downpour began. I took that to be a very good sign. Though I know deep down she doesn't hold it against me, I can still hear her voice clearly in my head asking me why I have not yet come to visit her. And while family members continuously recounted her last moments to mourners, I was constantly reminded that it was me she asked to see - some looked at me reproachfully, others looked with pity. I feel the loss but not the sorrow - I know she's up there with my grandfather, which is where she's always wanted to be. In my darkest moments, I console myself with the fact that I was there with her celebrating her life and if I didn't get to say goodbye it is because I believe that she has not quite left me...

Waist Not, Want Not

2009-07-19T11:02:00.007+05:30

I am the type of person that can completely self-destruct if I put my mind to it. The irony is that I come across as one who is completely sane, mature and often a preachy know-it-all. Well that last bit is true actually. I had a wonderful childhood, I felt so as a child and I feel so now. There were one or two bad experiences that have scarred me, but I managed to lock them away in the dark recesses of my mind when I heard the stories of others. When put in perspective, what glorious, blessed lives we lead! In fact, the only thing that truly troubled me during my teen years was my parents' constant fighting and bickering. There have been times when I would pray for them to get divorced - such was my distress. I would have to say that it was this one incident that lead to my various actions, influenced my decisions, paved my way. I do not regret any of my actions as it has made me what I am today. If I did not do so badly academically I would have never been sent to India. I would have missed out on my friends, the experiences, the "Indian-ness of me" and most importantly, I would not have met the love of my life. How ever, my actions have hurt others and I constantly berate myself for it. My better half says I have yet to forgive myself and learn to let go. I LOVE wallowing in self-pity, and reflecting on what made me the way I am. So before I let such negativity take over my world, I feel it is necessary that I share and record the good times.

In my worst moments, and in my best, it was the world of books that I retreated into and for that I have to thank my father. My earliest memory is at age 6. I am not sure if Dad's intention was inculcate the habit of reading in us at such an early age - but he was stuck with us after school and he loved his books, so off to the library we went. In our small town we had only two public libraries and we had membership in both. Of course I had access to my school library as well. Thus began a love affair with Enid Blyton, Roald Dahl, Beatrix Potter, Nancy Drew, The Hardy Boys, and later in high school it was Judy Blume, Sweet Valley High, Danielle Steele, Mills & Boon, Jeffery Archer, Sidney Sheldon, Frederick Forsyth, the list is endless really - so I won't even venture into the comic books! Let's just say - it was Betty's Diary (Archie Comics) that inspired me to be a writer - perhaps one of the many inspirations. My Dad's voracious appetite for books had some how passed on to me (my brother was completely unaffected much to their dismay but he wrote some brilliant poetry lemme tell you) and he would often say with deep regret, "Even if we read one book a day, and lived to be a 100 years old, we can ONLY read 36500 books in our life time."

My obsession with books, according to my folks, was the reason I was failing academically in all the IMPORTANT subjects (maths and science mainly). Thus, books were banned. They stopped my dance classes as well for the same reason. The things I loved most were taken away and I rebelled (very silently). I had a complete mental block in all my subjects with the exception of English and Afrikaans. The fact that I was doing really well in English didn't seem to make any difference and the constant pressure to win a Nobel Prize for Science or at the very least become an Engineer took its toll. It came to a point where it was doubtful that I would even pass high school. My poor folks finally succumbed to the fact that I had had a mental breakdown and begged me to see a psychiatrist. Keep in mind I wasn't a raving lunatic. I was merely withdrawing deeper within myself. And my only consolation had to be indulged in secretly. I would keep my Science textbook in front of me and my novel inside it. Then Dad caught me because he said he was surprised to see my intense concentration. I would read novels by torchlight under thick woolen blankets, in the loo, any where! I even told them I had extra classes and stayed back in the school library till the school gates were about to shut. I used to keep some novels in the washing machine under all the dirty clothes and move them on laundry day. But I was caught there as well. Dad, whilst shaving, made a passing comment as I walked by, "You know, girls who read Mills & Boon and Barbara Cartland turn out to be very stupid girls." I knew then that my Message from Nam (Danielle Steele) had been discovered. I didn't agree with him then and I certainly don't agree with him now. I definitely enjoy the older M&Bs when compared to the modern ones. Even the cover images having changed from paintings to photographs have put me off completely - killed the fantasy. The ones I used to enjoy often had adventure, culture, the dashing hero and a very spirited heroine. Most importantly, it exposed me to a world unknown to me. Today, I can probably recognise a person's country of origin simply by hearing their name - be it Greek or Japanese - all thanks to M&B. That kind of awareness and knowledge doesn't come easily you know? A child's concept of love and romance is mostly grasped from what they see in their parents - reading a million Mills & Boon will never change that.

My most favourite memories are that of the Saturday morning library sessions. Dad would take me and my friends Priya and Deepa - and between us we had 6 library cards. That's 6 books every week! When I was banned from reading, I used to borrow from them secretly. Being close family friends were were always at each other's house. This one time I wanted to borrow two M&Bs and had no idea how to take them without arousing suspicion. It was Priya's idea (I think) that I keep them in the elastic waistband of my skirt and zip up my jacket. This was a brilliant idea as the jacket would cover any bulge. I could place them side by side on my abdomen secured by the waistband, zip up my jacket and keep my hands in my jacket pockets "to keep warm" but also hold the books in place. Then I just have to sit in the car and when we reach home, rush to my room and throw them under my bed. The brilliance of this idea dazzled us so that we had no idea my folks were taking us to church right from their house!!! I was sitting in church and sweating in fear, scared that the books would fall out under my skirt, that too an M&B in the most sacred of places! I don't know how many confessions I would need to get out of that one! Then when it was time for communion Mum started glaring at me to get up and go. I accepted the Body and Blood of Christ whilst having my hands clasped together in prayer over my ABDOMEN - you can guess what I was praying about.

It is these memories that makes a song in my heart. When I meet my good friends even today, all we do is talk of our childhood days - our bond is entwined with memories such as these. With time and experience, I have come to realise that my parents' fighting is no indication of their love, or lack of love for each other. My better half and I are EXACTLY the same. Perhaps what I experienced with my folks will help me to control my tongue in the presence of my children. I have an acid tongue, especially when I have PMS. I really don't know if this post is about my love for books or about parenting. I DO know that I have grown enough to question my folks about their prejudices, as well as to be more open to their wisdom. When I was young I questioned NOTHING, and rebelled against their well-intentioned advice. I know that parenting is probably the HARDEST job in the world - but I am told it is also the most rewarding. Most importantly, I dedicate this post to my Dad - for instilling in me a love of knowledge. I do realise that reading doesn't always make a person right in their judgements or their understanding of the world, but it does give you perspective, the ability to see another point of view, one different from what you have been conditioned to believe. Look out for more outpourings of my childhood and my tormented teen soul :O)

*The images were taken on a visit to my old primary school in 2006 and are of the books in our school library. Some of them, especially The World Atlas, The Wind in the Willows, Hardy Boys and Paddington Bear, are the SAME copies we read almost 20 years ago.

Eat, Pray, Love

2009-07-06T23:47:00.004+05:30

Hello dear mad people :O)

Just wanted to say I got back home this morning from Bangalore after having completed AND submitted my MBA dissertation. In the almost 2 months I was away I wanted to write about a million things that ran through my head, actually wrote two and now they lie in my draft folder, their fire diminished.

When I was chatting to my good friend one day about blogging, I remember telling her that I am not ready to share my blog with the world...yet (I started in 2006 by the way). By "the world" I mean my family members. I am terrified of what they will think...even more terrified that my fear of what they will think of my writing will limit me, thereby resulting in me stopping writing all together (Oh poor world!) or conjuring an illusion of who I think they want me to be - which I just cannot do. My aunt tells me "people pleasing" is a genetic defect that runs on my mother's side and to never succumb to it. Sigh...if only it were that easy. My husband knows about my blog because, well, he is me...so he knows. But my folks, my brother, and the rest of the clan minus two cousins who I trust completely, have no idea about this random lunacy that I unleash onto unsuspecting readers such as yourself. How ever, this writing is my only release. And your much-valued comments do one of two things: if you agree with what I write then there's that "oh-so-glorious" self-righteous feeling, and if you don't agree...well, I get to see another point of view, possibly one that has not even occured to me. Either way, I feel acknowledged as a writer and I thank you.

Actually I logged in because I wanted to share with you this link which I know ALL of you, being writers, will enjoy reading.

I'll be back as soon as I get my house in order :O)
Gosh I am so happy and relieved about my dissertation. Will probably have that mild uneasy feeling die down after MJ is laid to rest. I hope so anyway... Got lots of blog reading to catch up on. Yay!!! Ciao for now!!!

Thank You For The Music

2009-06-26T11:05:00.011+05:30

I reached Bangalore at 7am this morning and the first thing I get is via sms from my husband - no, not "Good morning baby, how was your journey" but "Watch the news, Michael Jackson is dead".

To say this news "upset" me would be putting it mildly. To say I would miss him would be a slight exaggeration, because I never knew him as a person and his best years, I feel, have already passed him by. When a friend casually remarked just last week, "Why is he doing a concert NOW, at this age?", I told her that if I could afford a trip to London, or if he was having the concert HERE in India - I would not think twice to shell out my savings for it. I even reminded her of what an icon he was to us in our teen years and that if any one of us got to see him for this concert they are damn lucky cos we may never see him again. I spoke too soon I guess.

When I open my Facebook page my newsfeed shows an overwhelming number of people paying their respects. There are always those whose tasteless jokes really grate on my nerves. We have all had our share of "plastic" jokes but there is a TIME for everything. Does his death erase any of the controversies that were raised during his life? There are those who wrote "no matter what you did, your music will live on" - obviously referring to the child molestion charges of WHICH he was ACQUITTED. At what point do you lose all faith in your justice system? I have never felt that he was capable of molesting a child and a judge and jury have said the same. You may think - hmmm, he has loads of money and may have bought his own justice league. The pictures of his youth depict a man who is not only talented but also very, very handsome. The reasons as to why he has had so many nose jobs and paint jobs are his own. The world loved him and that was his curse. He put himself out on the line and got dragged down by those who professed to be his friends but were simply out to make a quick buck off his fame. The man had his ghosts and he is finally at peace. Let him be.

Michael - every song of yours that has come my way has been an inspiration to me. My teen years, which were abounding in passions I could barely rein will never forget you (especially Give In To Me). Your music gave me some level of sanity, brought me peace, helped me to believe in the world in a time when my dreams were crumbling. There is not one specific song I can mention of yours because they were all special. ALL of them. Your passing signifies the passing of an era - a time I often long for but know I will never get back. Come what may, your music will live on in our home and in our hearts and as a result, so too will you.

*All images courtesy Google (of course, if they were my own I would share them too :O)

You monkey, Me monkey

2009-05-14T12:07:00.002+05:30

I can't remember when I started my obsession for National Geographic's Genographic Project, but I do remember that if you wanted to take part then, it would cost you around $400 (USD) - which for a college student was a ridiculous amount. Today, it has come down to $100. It just goes to show how many people out there yearn to know where they come from.

Some interesting points about my genes in relation to this project:

I can ONLY find out my maternal line of ancestry (applicable to both males and females).
If I want to know my paternal lineage, I need my father, brother, or father's brother to do the test on my behalf.

I am my mother's daughter after all :O)
Makes you wonder why God had this specific design in mind doesn't it?

With this study, you can trace the paths walked by your ancestors. As a South Indian, this leaves me with various bloodlines: Dravidian, Aryan, Semitic (as a Syrian Christian, I would like SOME claim to St. Thomas), Portugese, Greek, and I'm not really sure what else - for all the history I have read, I have only found more and more cultures having once had a claim on my land and an influence on my people. Wars have been fought over ancestry and "pureness of race" (Hitler and the Nazis) and ethnic races have been wiped out (American Indians and Aborigines). I wonder what would have happened to our history had Christopher Columbus not taken a wrong turn. Even today, an arranged marriage is arranged on this basis - your wealth, health, character and status are all secondary.

I often wondered why it is that Indian parents go beserk when a daughter marries out of community, but reluctantly accept when a son does the same. Because it is a man's world, and by default only a man's lineage matters. So if a son marries a girl from another community - it's okay, because their children are automatically accepted into the boy's family as one of them. How ever, a girl HAS to marry within her community - because the only way that lineage can be preserved is if she marries one who carries similar genes. If she marries any one else, she dilutes (some say "pollutes") the gene pool. Blood is, after all, thicker than water. Jews, and some others such as the Nair community of Kerala, follow the matriarchal lineage for this reason.

Right now, I am looking to round up a hundred bucks for this Project - I feel a kind of nervousness about it, but a little excitement as well that my one little strand of DNA could be the clue that links together the history of the human world.

I leave you with a quote from Alex Haley's Roots, one of my favourite books on genealogy:

My smiling child,
Named for a noble ancestor.
Great hunter or warrior
You will be one day,
Which will give your papa pride.
But always I will remember you thus.

*All images courtesy Google

No Pain, No Gain - A Mother's Motto

2009-05-11T13:55:00.008+05:30

We attended church yesterday - YAY! Why is this such a celebration? The last time we went was on Jan 4th this year - that's right, the day we got married, and made a promise in front of family and friends to lead a spiritual life TOGETHER. I would rather not go into the reasons for not going - but having the desire or strong INTENTION to go does not quite give you the same satisfaction as actually going.

I'm ashamed to say that even when the pastor started calling up on stage "the mum with the youngest child", "oldest mum", "mum with most children", etc. it never quite registered in my tiny brain that it was Mother's Day!!! I was shocked that I could forget this most glorious of days, and disappointed in myself, more so because I had just talked to my mother and hadn't wished her. Back in our school days our dads would take us out to the mall the Saturday before to buy our mothers a gift - usually it was a gift basket of chocolate or cupcakes and the like, one that we (my brother and I) could indulge in. I once got my mum a coffee mug which had Snoopy (of Peanuts) standing in front of the mirror and flexing his arm muscles - the caption said "World's Greatest Body". I dunno how my mother took it because, well, her body is of rather generous proportions - I was an awful teen and an even more awful daughter. She laughed and said, "Hmmm you're making fun of me aren't you?" I answered with a grin. The best part was in church when Mothers were honoured with flowers and chocolate and were invited to tea (which was a lot more than just tea) in the church hall. The children would steal in to grab the yummy cakes and pies. But more than anything - it was a day when we saw our mothers smile together at each other, a knowing smile that only one who has gone through the pains of having a child will understand.

What is really weird is that I was speaking to my mother after ages yesterday and she called a few minutes before we were ready to leave for church. We chatted for more than a half hour even though I knew we would be late. I didn't want the conversation to end, and I was glad it didn't because we were just in time to hear the most important parts of the service. I loved this inspiring service yesterday - filled with warm anecdotes and a hilarious video any mum and child can relate to in one form or another. I was so inspired that I pulled out my cell phone and smsd all my friends who were mums to wish them (this caused a huge fight later with my husband who did not approve of me sending out an sms during the service - even though I TOLD him we should leave our phones in the car. When I'm inspired I just gotta get moving and I stuck to my story even though I knew I was wrong). What is strange is that the friend who replied first was the one I had the least contact with. Many hours later, a childhood friend, one with whom I have had many "Mother's Day Shopping" sessions, sent me a msg wishing me the same on behalf of Hyde :O), and the third msg came from another good college friend who was actually in labour while I was sending her the msg! She wasn't due for another ten days and is now blessed with a baby boy! Congrats again Sne!

I have begun a post called "Conversations with my Mother" but have yet to complete it. I leave you now with a few quotes about mothers - because it is always my feeling that if another person can say it better, then they SHOULD! May God bless my Mother, and may He bless yours too!

P.S.: Watch the video - totally worth it!
* Image courtesy Google Images

Some had me smiling:

A mother is a person who seeing there are only four pieces of pie for five people, promptly announces she never did care for pie. ~Tenneva Jordan
Sweater, n.: garment worn by child when its mother is feeling chilly. ~Ambrose Bierce
A daughter is a mother's gender partner, her closest ally in the family confederacy, an extension of her self. And mothers are their daughters' role model, their biological and emotional road map, the arbiter of all their relationships. ~Victoria Secunda

Some had me nodding in agreement:

I remember my mother's prayers and they have always followed me. They have clung to me all my life. ~Abraham Lincoln
The heart of a mother is a deep abyss at the bottom of which you will always find forgiveness. ~Honoré de Balzac
She never quite leaves her children at home, even when she doesn't take them along. ~Margaret Culkin Banning
When you are a mother, you are never really alone in your thoughts. A mother always has to think twice, once for herself and once for her child. ~Sophia Loren, Women and Beauty
Women are aristocrats, and it is always the mother who makes us feel that we belong to the better sort. ~John Lancaster Spalding

Some had me going "hell yeah!":

The phrase "working mother" is redundant. ~Jane Sellman
Grown don't mean nothing to a mother. A child is a child. They get bigger, older, but grown? What's that suppose to mean? In my heart it don't mean a thing. ~Toni Morrison, Beloved, 1987
Mother is the name for God in the lips and hearts of little children. ~William Makepeace Thackeray

Some had me laughing out loud:

Mothers are fonder than fathers of their children because they are more certain they are their own. ~Aristotle
It's not easy being a mother. If it were easy, fathers would do it. ~From the television show The Golden Girls

This is a reason why I can do the same thing today:

One of the very few reasons I had any respect for my mother when I was thirteen was because she would reach into the sink with her bare hands - bare hands - and pick up that lethal gunk and drop it into the garbage. To top that, I saw her reach into the wet garbage bag and fish around in there looking for a lost teaspoon. Bare hands - a kind of mad courage. ~Robert Fulghum

This one is for Nisha:

The moment a child is born, the mother is also born. She never existed before. The woman existed, but the mother, never. A mother is something absolutely new. ~Rajneesh

This one is for Elizabeth:

Women know
The way to rear up children (to be just)
They know a simple, merry, tender knack
Of tying sashes, fitting baby shoes,
And stringing pretty words that make no sense,
And kissing full sense into empty words.
~Elizabeth Barrett Browning

This is my mother:

A mother is the truest friend we have, when trials heavy and sudden, fall upon us; when adversity takes the place of prosperity; when friends who rejoice with us in our sunshine desert us; when trouble thickens around us, still will she cling to us, and endeavor by her kind precepts and counsels to dissipate the clouds of darkness, and cause peace to return to our hearts. ~Washington Irving

This, is Universal:

God could not be everywhere, so he created mothers. ~Jewish Proverb

What's In A Name?

2009-05-08T09:24:00.006+05:30

Some of you may have noticed the new name. Honestly speaking, finding a name for my blog was the reason why I started and deleted the two blogs before this one. I hate thinking up innovative names and titles almost as much as job interviews. I had to think deeply about who or what I was so that it would reflect (oops - there we go again) my blog. After three minutes I gave up and went for the superficial - I have wild, curly hair (some say my personality trademark) and when I get into fights I can get quite ugly and fierce (actually I look like this when I try to reason with people as well) - and voila, Jungle Girl is born!

Okay this Jane is a lot more dignified I realise. And one can tell a man drew her from that half inch waist. I am a Typical Jane - but by no means a Jungle Girl. I have done my fair share of trekking and exploring but can't start a fire by rubbing together stones, I have a fussy palate so eating leaves and moss just won't do, and I have seriously considered buying myself a leopard print bikini (and a blond wig) but it would only lie in my cupboard with all the other fantasy clothes collecting dust - a real Jungle Girl would have a killer bod. I love animals - but until I get to know them, I'd prefer an electric wire fence between us.

Most importantly I have never been up to any "shenanigans" in my life, Jane Good Girl - just always liked the word. Of course, that doesn't mean I don't WANT to ;O) ...have already instructed hubby to practice swinging from trees (clothing opitonal). Not sure how seriously he took my request.

Any hoo...welcome to the old me...hope I don't have to change this again...seriously, this title was created at the peak of my creativity - I hope no prospective employers are reading this. Something tells me I've said too much already.

*All images courtesy Walt Disney's motion picture "Tarzan"

Friends Like Us

2009-05-05T20:30:00.012+05:30

Who, in a world with satellite television, does not know F.R.I.E.N.D.S?

More importantly, who does not like them? I know I did, still do in fact :O) - even if Star World is over doing it a tad bit. Makes you wonder if they don't have ANY other sitcom they could air but this one. And trust me, there are some brilliant ones out there.

When hubby comes home from work, the norm is to sit together with a cup of chai and watch the funnies on Star World. It usually coincides with the double episode of FRIENDS every evening, which we sit through just to watch what ever comes after. Today though, they played the last episode of Season 10 followed by the first episode of Season 1!!! I was hit with nostalgia as I travelled back in time to the nineties! I still remember the day in high school when all we could talk about was the previous night's episode when the Friends gang watches the prom night video (when Ross was supposed to take Rachel because her date ditched her). As a teen, we could all relate to it and found it terribly romantic. Today, I still can't say if that was my favourite episode when compared to Monica's proposal to Chandler, or Phoebe's street wedding to Mike! There are a million lovable episodes inbetween, from "Smelly Cat" to when Rachel discovers she's pregnant but at the end of the day there's something for everyone! Of course back then it only played once a week and not every day. We loved it - not just because it was "our time" but because it gave us hope in our teen years, that we would be okay no matter what, if we had friends like that. That hope has not diminished. Of course, in reality, a teen wouldn't have ANYTHING in common with a working twenty-something - the values were different, the responsibilities were different, and you paid your own rent! But one thing we can relate to is the 90's fashion!

When I saw Season 1 today, I was simply blown away by how natural and innocent Rachel looked with her wavy hair, Joey with a mushroom cut and Phoebe in pigtails!!! The clothes were baggy - open checked shirts with a t-shirt inside, spaghetti strap dresses, denim shirts, dungarees, pallazzo pants, waist coats, high-back sneakers and HIGH RISE jeans - I still feel my "six pack" is a result of the transition to low waisters!!! I missed my youth (and the flat tummy) more than ever...

Compare that with the fashion and sophistication of Season 10 with the perfectly ironed hair - their transition was so smooth!

Rachel working for Ralph Lauren TOTALLY justified her awesome wardrobe - though personally, Phoebe's style was the only one I could relate to - she combined hippy and elegance with such panache! The three women are still as thin as they were ten years ago, but the men have packed on the distinguished pounds and all of them have lines of maturity etched into their faces. When I look at pictures of me ten years ago, there isn't MUCH of a difference (except that my weight has shifted from one area to another) - which made me realise it's the 30s that will truly define that transition from youth to adult and I better enjoy them before they fly by! When I asked a friend to watch P.S. I Love You all she could say was how "awful" Lisa Kudrow (Phoebe) looked. Give her a break! You are comparing Lisa Kudrow today to Phoebe from ten years ago!!!

There are loads of trivia, bloopers, extras, quizzes and interviews you could get on them on the Internet today. In fact, the bloopers show you just how much fun they had working together. Every one plays a Friends quiz, if anything to convince themselves that they're still with it. When college kids today state that Friends is their favourite TV show, I wonder if it is because it's now become a cult following or because they genuinely like what they see. Then I realise it doesn't matter. Plenty of other brilliant sitcoms have emerged since Friends but few are what Indian censor boards would consider appropriate. In Friends, sex is portrayed as an extremely casual affair - but laced with such good humour that one cannot find any vulgarity in it. Phoebe's madness, Chandler's quick wit, Ross's sarcasm, Monica's cleanliness quirks, Joey's innocence and Rachel's comic timing bring joy to our lives that's beyond compare. THIS makes us laugh, and we'll take what we get, even if it's ten years too late.

I'm not sure I can call this a tribute cos then it would be quite a sad one - there is just too much to say in one post and it sure wouldn't be any different from what millions of others feel. But it sure is a wonderful feeling when a TV show can take you back in time, to a time you can relate to with fond memories. The most heart-wrenching moment was the final episode. I cannot imagine there being a greater television phenomenon than them :o(

P.S.: If you're wondering about my title - that was the original title of Friends :O)

See This Face

2009-04-15T12:24:00.005+05:30

Hyde's First Visit to the Vet

Scene 1: Hyde doing the hoppity, skippity, jump jump jump, turn, head bang, swirl, etc. on the table.

Mummy (Me): Hyde!!! Stand still!!! He's just trying to clip your nails!
Dr. Vet: (with tone of grave wisdom) Aaaah...he's spoilt rotten and knows he can get away with anything.
Daddy (R) points finger at the culprit (Mum), Dr. Vet laughs
Mum: (Sad eyes, forlorn voice) It is SO difficult to discipline a puppy!
Dr. Vet: (using exasperated tone) NO! It is difficult to discipline OURSELVES!
Dad laughs, he will get it when we get home...grrr...

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Our baby had a urinary infection for the past two days - which we knew with the help of Google. Welcome to parenting in the 21st century. We rushed him to the vet only today, because she told us it's not a big deal. Yeah right! It was a mission to get the medicine she prescribed into his mouth via those syringe tubes. If you read half the doggy literature on Google, you too would be convinced he had kidney failure and was going blind. Some times I get up at night just to see that he is okay, and that he isn't suffocating on a plastic bag I was careless enough to leave behind, or chewing on the gas cylinder tube and going unconscious because he inhaled the gas. I have come to accept this madness as a part of who I am.

Thing is, our little man is a good boy most of the time. He doesn't cause us too much trouble. The trouble actually lies with me, when I ASSUME he understands the long conversations I have with him. As soon as he wakes from his naps he comes running to me, his ears flopping up n down. He usually nips my hand, or jumps n licks. Once when I was having a really emotional day, bawling my eyes out, he just sat there n looked at me, then lay down and put his head on my feet as if to say, "I'm here for you." Pretty astute for someone so little. Our vet tells us he is actually two weeks younger than what we were told (29 days) - which makes me want to kill the guy we bought him from. No wonder he looked so scared and lost - he was missing his mum, and her milk. Apparently, dogs with his white colouring (coat) are more prone to infections - what more does a ultra-paranoid mother need to hear? I have a difficult enough time as it is getting him to poop in one place. Our vet is an awesome lady - I felt so comfortable with her and with the place. We saw so many people there with their gorgeous dogs, their love displayed for the world to see. Some were open and friendly, some were protective of their dogs, some bemused and some downright worried. When I looked them in the eye, I sensed an understanding - as though they were saying, "Welcome to this wonderful world, now that you're here you can never go back".

With this experience I see my husband in a whole new light - as a parent. He is SO patient. Our deal was that we would wake up at 6am, take Hyde for a walk, etc. but only hubby does so religiously while I snore away. When he is strict, he is REALLY strict, but he also overlooks the little one's mischief more than I do. I just lose it, give Hyde a tight smack on the bottom, see him crawl away from me under the table with his sad puppy eyes, and then I feel SO bad and go after him - "Awwww...m SORRY my DAAAARLING, my baaaaybeee, m so SORREEEEE..." (For further cootchie-cooing see picture above and THEN judge me)

I always saw myself as a great disciplinarian - that my household would be a dictatorship, but hubby says our kids will take me for a long ride, and then leave me there! Sometimes I am in awe at how little I know myself. My college NCC days was probably what put the notion in my head that I would command and the little ones would obey. But this guy just looks at me like I'm a raving lunatic, gives me a nonchalant shrug and walks away.

I always wanted a dog ever since I was little, but I also imagined having a small house with a huge garden and the open outdoors - an idyllic Enid Blyton farmhouse setting. I was very apprehensive about keeping one in an apartment, not so much for MY sake but for the sake of the dog. I grew up watching Born Free so keeping a free-spirited animal such as a dog, whose soul joy (pun intended) is in running, jumping and knocking things over, in a closed up apartment seemed like the greatest cruelty ever. But hubby has raised two dogs of his own and convinced me that the difficulty would be more for us than for him, and so long as we stick to a strict regimen we would all be just fine. Now that he's here, and about 70% of my day goes in mopping my floors - I cannot imagine our life without him.

Our son, our first born - he rocks our world.

P.S.: I strongly recommend watching Born Free if you have not already watched it.

P.P.S.: Dear Nancy and Neetu - I tried doing the "25 Random Things About Me" tag - really I did. Believe me, believe me PLEASE! But after reaching No. 12, I have enough matter for a mega serial (4 pages) and I really don't want to put my readers through all that drama. I am not able to keep it short either because one of my random quirks is that I NEED to explain WHY I am the way I am. However, I will publish a book one day and if you will waste your money buying it, you can gave fun trying to decipher how much of it is fact and how much fiction. Me not gonna continue that post for now...

Paralysis

2009-04-07T15:07:00.005+05:30

I feel so much has happened in the three months of my married life but never has there been an opportunity to put it down in words. Some times I start writing only to get easily distracted when I see a tag or a useless quiz on Facebook. I wish I could say I did "nothing" with my life these past 3 months - but that is not entirely true. Those who know me, know that I cannot sit idle, and that I thrive on my work. But now, having relocated to Hyderabad - I am happy to be a housewife because that is a whole new territory that I have never been exposed to. My mother was a working woman, and every childhood friend I have had, had mums who were working women. I am not trying to say that housewives do not work - in fact, I am trying to say exactly the opposite. There are so many minute details that go into running a household - I am in awe at how my mother did all that she did. That aside, we have an addition to the family - a 2-month-old male labrador, our baby - we have named him Hyde. Apart from all the household work, which is really not much as my husband is very supportive when the mood hits him, I have to run after this little runt who is the sole joy in our lonely existence. Here, I am paralysed with "new-ness" - new to being out of work, new to motherhood (even if he is a puppy, he is my own), new to being a wife and all the responsibilities that come with it. I am learning fast that silence can sometimes save a marriage - though I have severe headaches now, I don't know if it is the stifling heat of Hyderabad or the pulsating desire to always have the last word :O)

Then what made news? Barack Obama became President of the United States of America - a momentous occasion for me, I cried during the oath-taking ceremony even though I have no affiliation to the USA or its citizens. Granted that his timing is bad, what with the recession being the worst ever in the last 20 years (I thank God for blessing my husband with a job), I still feel he will do a fine job and I wish him all the best. For some reason, Slumdog Millionaire winning at the Oscars didn't move me at all, but A.R. Rahman going home with not one but two was inspiring. Here, I was paralysed with joy. I have not seen the movie, but I did read "Q&A" by Vikas Swarup two years ago and it was an entertainer. On the other hand, Jai Ho was an irritant after a certain point, especially when I know A.R.R has done far better music in his lifetime.

Then there was some distressing news about a father who has been raping his daughter for nine years on the advice of a tantrik because he was told it'll make him rich. The mother abetted the crime and the tantrik moved onto the second daughter. They had interviewed the two girls, who, despite being covered from head to toe in scarves and shawls to hide their identity, spoke English quite clearly and boldly. The elder daughter decided to open up to her uncle and grandma when she realised her father was about to rape her sister as well...THAT was her final straw. I was paralysed with fear and anxiety - that such scum of the earth are parading as do-gooders, and that we have no qualms about pointing fingers at the West for corrosion of morals and values when we have not yet gotten our own straightened out. At times like this I wish I lived in the Middle Ages where such evil could be burnt at the stake or deep fried in oil.

I took up a job with an Event Management company in Bangalore after completing my MBA last year. Okay okay I still have to do my dissertation but I was free to work and when I got the chance I grabbed it. Though the nature of the work was time consuming and incredibly challenging, I started to pick up signs in the work environment that made me highly uncomfortable. First of all, my boss was a lying sleazeball and with all the calls I handled from his debtors and creditors I came to realise that he had invested quite a chunk of the company money in another company and was not making enough to pay off his employees. Also, he gave me the creeps - always groping the girls in office and making no pretense of it. It was a hide and seek game with us as I tried to avoid his "good morning" hug. Shameless b*****d! There is a lot I could say right now about this but I'll go into a paralysis of anger and bitterness. Needless to say, I quit and 4 months later, I have not received my pay for the work. If any thing, he got me to do all his work on MY laptop, got us to work extra time, come in on Sundays, didn't pay me for two months, and had the gall to complain to the guy who got me the job because I quit (even though I gave him the standard one month's notice). All I have to do is storm into his office and demand my money - because he knows he has to pay me, but I am still so angry with him, and he is a smooth talker, and I will have to listen to his bullshit quietly because I am unable to throw a tantrum at a middle-aged man. Basically - when it comes to this experience, I am a bomb waiting to explode. It has made me very wary...

Recently, a school friend and promising South African musician, hanged himself in his garage. We went to school together, studied music together, our families went to the same church, our mothers work together, and 8 years after school, I even got to interact with his twin sisters while I was teaching at their school - and all we'd talk about was him and his music. We were not close and we didn't even keep in touch despite having each other on our Facebook list. Merely knowing that someone who had a strong link to my childhood left without any warning had me tossing and turning for a few nights. I am still paralysed with the sadness of his loss.

Then The Times of India Lead India/Teach India Campaign has been so inspirational to me for some time. Have you seen their ads? I volunteered at Teach India months ago but received no response - possibly because they had plenty who volunteered, and because I was in Bangalore at the time and was required to know the regional language. Recently, I received an email asking me to be a part of the Lead India initiative - no special honour, more a social responsibility. I became a part of the community on Facebook and was asked to write blogs to create awareness about the social issues of our nation. If I did take it up, all you would hear is a tirade of what is wrong with the country - because good people, I have NO steps to offer as to what we can do to make it right. I have been struggling to get a government gas connection for 3 months now but they keep giving us excuses. After surviving on our sandwich toaster, buying a new microwave (which is not supported by our apartment's electric wiring - the switch keeps tripping) and borrowing my aunt's second cylinder, we have eventually gotten hold of a private connection for twice the price. When people ask me to blog about these things I feel I am merely opening up a forum to complain. I don't want whiners, I want action. I did try my best to make many people aware of this wave of change that's sweeping our nation and I'm sure what I did was peanuts compared to those who dedicate their lives to such issues - but it was amazing to see on NDTV that 100 million (that's 100 000 000) first time youth voters had registered. This was a paralysis of hope: dare I envision a change for the better?

All this and more have happened over the past 3 months placing me in various states of mental paralysis: pretty much all I can say is wow, aaah, hmmmm or WHAT??? and then go on with my life. And now my greatest paralysis of all: my incomplete dissertation. My husband has labelled me "Excuse Rani" - because I have a million reasons as to why it is left undone. I recently received notification that the deadline is in June - and STILL I waste my time. Why is this my greatest paralysis? Because if I need to be free, truly free, I need it out of my way. I can't go any where, I cannot start work, I cannot enjoy anything because this is my Damocles' sword.

I end with a note of hope, and a promise, that even if we all have to live on bread and cheese - puppy is excused, and I take a break only to hang the laundry to dry, I VOW that this bitch of a dissertation WILL be out of my hands this month! And when it is...I will party like MAD (drinks for all my friends in Hyderabad (ha ha ha - we have NO friends in Hyderabad)! - Envision evil witch laughter... :O)

A Picture Speaks

2009-03-03T13:22:00.004+05:30

I was tagged by Renu and the rules are:

Pick the 6th picture of your 6th photo folder.

Tell a story around it.

Pass it on to six other people you like.

So when I saw this a few days ago I was like: Oh my God please don't let it be a picture of me looking cross-eyed or something equally bad. Even before I checked to see what the picture was I was tempted to select any "cool" picture from one of my albums and pass if off as the 6th of the 6th. How ever, to be fair, I arranged my folders according to Name, and then looked. And this is what I found:

These are my last set of college gal pals. I say last because I have been to 4 colleges so far in my life, and a degree and two post graduations later the greatest lesson I have learned is that GOOD friends are REALLY hard to find. (If my mother hears of this she would say "You didn't have to waste my money on college tuition to learn THAT - I could have told you for FREE!) This picture was taken when we went bowling - a farewell party of sorts. We had ordered mocktails (or was it cocktails?) and were generally acting very silly, high on life and the spirit of the moment but deep down, scared of what the future held for us. Maybe I should just speak for myself here. This was not a reflection of our confidence in our abilities but more a fear becoming "responsible" and getting our act together. No more "care free, partying, calling home for money" mode. The fact that I am about 2-6 years older than them makes it worse because I have no excuse for not having made something of my life.

I see that a picture that's meant to kindle fond memories is actually turning out to be a lament on why I am such a loser. What REALLY pushed me to get down to this Tag was this picture which I saw on Nat Geo a few minutes ago (I subscribe to their online newsletter) :

"It was," said Sharbat Gula, "the will of God."

The first image appeared on the cover of National Geographic in 1985. I STILL have a tattered poster of this image from my school days. This Afghan girl has haunted many with her eyes. The suffering she has been through is evident. What really touched my heart is the fact that we're both women, we're both the same age and yet the paths we walked were so different and it shaped our lives accordingly. When I see this picture, I realize how lightly I take the wealth of opportunities that have come my way. If I make a promise now to grab every opportunity it would be in poor taste, because it would fall among the pile of many promises I have made to myself over the years. Let this image then merely serve as a reminder that I DID have good intentions for my life, and perhaps when I look back on life 5 years from now I will have less regret and more patience.

Greatest Love of All

2009-03-01T21:36:00.007+05:30

About two weeks ago I wrote a very (long) heartfelt note on the movie Miss Potter which I had just seen on TV that day. For some reason God felt I should not publish it and it got deleted after I spent an hour on it and was almost finished. Of course, if this had happened when I just got started, it wouldn't have taken much persuasion to start over. Maybe I should have typed it out on Word first but some how the inspiration to write only surfaces when I see my blog...sigh...

Any how, although two tags await me, I just had to put in a song that reminded me of the person I once used to be. Whitney Houston ruled our teen lives back in the nineties and when I listened to this song after eons, something in me woke up. I remember singing this song in school with such enthusiasm, such gusto, that I actually BELIEVED I could help change the world for the better. I don't know what changed after that. I then went on to become a teacher in a high school (for a short while) and, enjoyable as the experience was, I was the epitome of what a high school teacher should NOT be.

I don't know what makes a song so beautiful - the lyrics, the music, or the spirit in which the artist sings. Please do listen to it (you can type it in at www.justhearit.com - a page I keep open all day) ... I hope it inspires you to achieve greater things.

Greatest Love of All - Whitney Houston

I believe the children are our are future
Teach them well and let them lead the way
Show them all the beauty they possess inside
Give them a sense of pride to make it easier
Let the children's laughter remind us how we used to be
Everybody searching for a hero
People need someone to look up to
I never found anyone who fulfill my needs
A lonely place to be
So I learned to depend on me

Chorus:
I decided long ago, never to walk in anyone's shadows
If I fail, if I succeed
At least I'll live as I believe
No matter what they take from me
They can't take away my dignity
Because the greatest love of all
Is happening to me
I found the greatest love of all
Inside of me

The greatest love of all
Is easy to achieve
Learning to love yourself
It is the greatest love of all

I believe the children are our future
Teach them well and let them lead the way
Show them all the beauty they possess inside
Give them a sense of pride to make it easier
Let the children's laughter remind us how we used to be

Chorus

And if by chance, that special place
That you've been dreaming of
Leads you to a lonely place
Find your strength in love

He's Just Not That Into You

2009-02-14T01:34:00.004+05:30

This post has absolutely nothing to do with the newly released movie under the same title. It is just a reminder that I should go watch it before it disappears from the big screen cos the reviews look really interesting. However, the theme is not too far off the mark.

Lemme ask you - what is the first thing that one does when an electric appliance goes berserk? If you said "I'd call my husband/boyfriend/electrician" then this post is not for you. Ideally, I was expecting "I'd go through the Instruction Manual first". Well, I found out that this is really no different from real life relationships. When a relationship is on the rocks one normally runs to family and friends, and as a last resort a marriage counsellor. Very FEW choose to read a book as a solution, maybe because we rarely expect that the problem could be with US. It's always the other person who rocked the boat. I find I'm using way too many cliches here but humour me please.

On 10 December 2008, I bought myself a bookstore version (that's right, no more pirated-roadside-ink smudged versions for me) of "Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus" by John Gray. I first heard of this book in 1998 when a classmate won it as a book prize for academic excellence and he told me then that I MUST read it. But being an 18-year-old I opted for Mills & Boon and Danielle Steele - the kind of books my Dad said made young girls stupid. Of course, I don't agree with him but that is a post for another day.

I have had plenty of crushes but had never truly known men in ways that can drive one insane. Years went by slowly after high school when suddenly, True Love makes an appearance in my life. And along with him all the mystery, aura, apprehension, suspense, thrill, confusion and drama that are the elements of a young romance. I had had guys has good friends ALL my life so I just ASSUMED that if I ever got into a relationship, no one could handle it better than I. I was the one other girlfriends came to for advice with tears in their eyes - babbling in confusion, claiming their men had changed, lost interest, refused to commit, etc. and I was there to offer pearls of wisdom like an enlightened sage. When it was MY turn however, I went through EXACTLY the same thing. And after 5 years of drama and various misunderstandings (revealed on hindsight) the poor guy still wanted to marry me. Now a month into our married life, I find myself often going to this wonderful book and flipping through the pages. I have never yet read it from cover to cover because I find it a tad dragging. Because it REALLY is written in Instruction Manual style, with a sprinkling of real life stories. But on a warm afternoon, when you're feeling pensive, sipping on a cuppa tea - take this book and open on a random page - you'll see your spouse in a new light altogether. The missing pieces of the puzzle fall into place. And it's no mere novel that can be mastered in one reading. You'll find yourself going through it over and over again - like a reference book so to speak (which is why it is important to buy an original)! The book begins with a narration of an incident in the author's own life - a misunderstanding that any couple can relate to. I can't help but wonder how many marriages could have been saved if everyone had their own copy.

Some of my favourite excerpts from the book:

" The biggest challenge for women is correctly to interpret and support a man when he isn't talking."

"It is difficult for a man to listen to a woman when she is unhappy or disappointed because he feels like a failure."

"Once on a trip to Sweden to teach my relationship seminar, I called back to California from New York, informing Bonnie that I had left my passport at home. She reacted in such a beautiful and loving way. She didn't lecture me on being more responsible. Instead she laughed and said, 'Oh my goodness, John, you have such adventures. What are you going to do?'
I asked her to fax my passport to the Swedish Consulate, and the problem was solved. She was so co-operative. Never once did she succumb to lecturing me on being more prepared. She was even proud of me for finding a solution to my problem."

And my MOST favourite :O) :

"Most couples start out arguing about one thing and, within five minutes, are arguing about the way they are arguing."

'Please Sir, I want some more.'

2009-02-06T12:43:00.019+05:30

This famous line from Dickens' Oliver Twist never fails to move me. And if you love food as much as I do, you'd understand why. Today I was craving a shwarma (that's right - not shawarrmaa as most people call it in India) from Anat - a South African franchise that serves Middle Eastern food. We never had one in our small town so whenever Dad made a trip to Johannesburg, he made sure to stop by an Anat and pick one up for us. How I love this divine food. And then, when I came to India and told people about it, they said "Hey we have shawarrmaa here too!" and presented me with this monstrosity - chicken, mixed with a load of cabbage and mayo all wrapped up into a roll. It was sickeningly sweet - and there's not much difference in most places in South India that claim to serve shwarma "as it is". Now I'm wondering did I grow up eating the wrong stuff? The shwarma I know is yummy grilled meat of your choice (lamb, beef, chicken) with veggies, served in pita bread. Words fail me at this point as I can almost taste it after years of being deprived of it.
This wonderful memory then prompted me to make a list of food that I crave from back home, got some help from other ex-South Africans too:

1. Biltong - dried, salted meat. Chilli Bites are my absolute favourite!

2. Nando's Peri Peri Grilled Chicken - Oh South Africa, how I miss thee!
And Chicken Licken's Hot Wings!

3. Clover's UltraMel Vanilla Custard

4. Nestle's Peppermint Crisp - chocolate coated mint crystals.
(Always felt as though I was holding Kryptonite in my hands...)

5. Potjiekos - meat stew slow-cooked in an iron cauldron.
You can throw in anything into the pot - absolutely delicious!

6. Yogi Sip - especially Granadilla - flavoured yoghurt.

7. Schweppes Sparkling Granadilla
(okay it has now been established that I like granadilla),
Creme Soda, Grape Fanta, Grapetiser and Appletiser!

8. Ricoffy - it's just the instant coffee we grew up on.
Nothing special unless you're South African.

9. Eet-Sum-Mor - Shortbread Biscuits
(absolutely divine with coffee)

and also, Romany Creams.

10. The Braai - or barbecue, which was a regular feature in every home!
I miss boerewors the most!

11. Melrose Cheese Triangles - "Oh boy! Mum remembered Melrose!"
(Okay so these are squares - I can't find one of the triangles!)

12. Pap & Vleis - a maize/corn meal porridge with meat and gravy, traditional South African meal - our helper used to make it for us when we came home from school sometimes.
Couldn't find a good picture though...

13. Melk Tert - or Milk Tart - sigh...

14. Koeksusters - deep fried twists of dough soaked in syrup.

15. Munchies - Willards Cheese Curls and Flings,
Niknaks, Simba's Mexican Chilli and
Flanagan's Kettle Fried Chips (Green Onion Flavour)

16. Soft bread rolls with Rama margarine!

17. Magnum Ice Cream - aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh...

Gosh I can't think any more...my head is spinning and m hungry!
If any anyone remembers any more please do it share with me...

Genesis 2

2009-01-19T15:25:00.007+05:30

My last post was kind of abrupt because I needed to express gratitude where it was due but I didn't quite have a chance to elaborate. This year started off with quite a bang. I got married on Jan 4th, to a man of my choice, with the blessings of my family members, and in the presence of those who love me. Unfortunately, my better half did not have the same luck.

After 3 years of trying to convince our loved ones that we wanted to spend our life together - his family still did not come to the wedding. It was only after the wedding when we told them it was a done deal, we realized that there was a lot of mis-communication along the way (bound to happen in highly-charged emotional situations) and that his family was also "planning" to throw us a wedding. Everyone was just shouting and yelling, giant egos getting in the way of understanding - no one had time to stop and listen to what was being said. And now they lost out on witnessing their only son's wedding (and it was a beautiful one) and I am filled with guilt and remorse. The more I tried to get involved, the more hurt I saw in his eyes, and I'd back off. The pain and disappointment he felt in knowing that they would not be there for him, made me want to just put a stop to everything. But he would not allow it - for he was also tired of waiting. For all that I tried to get his family to be a part of this, I feel maybe I should have done MORE, that I did not do enough when it would have mattered. My parents caved in when my grandmother came to know - and with her, all my uncles and aunts. It also didn't help that I was fast approaching 30. I sailed through my wedding preparations in a dreamlike state - despite many stumbling blocks in church formalities. My dad took time to come around but he spoke to me (awkwardly) after 5 months of silence. My mother was my Rock in all of this. Not to mention my uncles, aunts and cousins, whose mere presence made this a joyous occasion. Then there were good friends who travelled from far to be with us, friends who have known us even before we knew each other, who saw our relationship blossom, wondered if it would last, and rejoiced when we saw it through. Everything was done in less than a month and my parents only arrived two weeks before the wedding. We didn't even get to send out invites - people were invited via phone calls and smses. When I stood at the altar, it felt surreal - like I was an outsider witnessing this incredible moment. There was no doubt or worry - just immense relief, that I could finally start my life with him - a new beginning. Now I wonder how will I explain to my children why their father's side was not present for the wedding. I will have to hide our wedding album till they are old enough to understand.

What makes our situation so difficult you may wonder. Though we are both Christians, we belong to different churches. I am a Malayalee Syrian Catholic. He is a Tamil (Nadar) Christian whose family once belonged to the CSI but later converted to Pentecost. If you are a Christian - you know that this is pretty much two different religions when it comes to ways of worship. If you are not a Christian then this won't make any sense to you what so ever. While both families were against it - for traditional reasons: "One should not mix cultures", "We should marry among our own", "A marriage is not between two individuals but between two families", "If everyone became selfish and married this way what will happen to society?", "Cultures would die and fade away", etc., and though we acknowledge these reasons as being valid, neither of us could find it in ourselves to sacrifice this relationship for the greater good of mankind and for the survival of the Malayalam and Tamil languages. So yes, we were selfish. And I am told I will get my just deserts in due course. As if I was not paranoid enough. God has been with us though all this and I trust in Him to stand by us for whatever we are yet to face.

"To live in fear is a life half lived" - to quote from one of my favourite movies Strictly Ballroom.

If I had to recollect on what was the MOST important lesson I learnt from my wedding experience: it is that one should LISTEN. Just SHUT UP, and LISTEN to what the other person has to say. Listen with an open heart and mind, without any ego and without the need to have the last word.

I have thanked God for my better half. I did not thank my better half for God - because it was after meeting him 5 years ago that I came to recognise my need for a spiritual life - till then I was just a namesake Christian. This came about way before any of the "problems" started, so when they did come along, I had no doubt as to who I could turn to. I am grateful...

Thank You

2008-11-24T14:54:00.003+05:30

My life has been a series of miracles.

The following is a verse and a poem that mean a lot to me - simple in its prose, but powerful in what it can accomplish if you truly believe:

Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives, and he who seeks finds, and to him who knocks, it will be opened. - Luke 11: 9-10

Footprints In The Sand

One night a man had a dream.

He dreamed he was walking along the beach with the Lord.

Scenes from his life flashed across the sky
and he noticed two sets of footprints in the sand,
one belonging to him and the other to the Lord.

When the last scene of his life had flashed before him,
he recalled that at the lowest and saddest times of his life
there was only one set of footprints.

Dismayed, he asked, "Lord, you said that once I decided to follow you,
you'd walk with me all the way.
I don't understand why, when I needed you most,
you would leave me."

The Lord replied, "My precious child.
I love you and I would never leave you.

During your times of trial and suffering
when you saw only one set of footprints...

That was when I carried you."

Mum Knows Best

2008-10-23T16:29:00.007+05:30

Today is my mother's birthday. I am sitting at work as I type this, with the deep hope that tears don't spill over and plop on my keyboard, and that colleagues don't turn to me with a look of questioning concern.

I miss my Mum. I only tell one person this repeatedly, and that's my better half. I first left home at 19, and now almost ten years later, I miss her more than ever before. There were random holidays when my folks would come down to India but they had to share their time and love with everyone, and in that process I often took out my frustrations on her. I then got a second chance to spend almost a year with them. I did. But I screwed up there as well. So many other issues in our lives came in the way - to a point where she must have wondered if I am really her daughter or did someone switch babies on her.

This is lost time that I will never get back. She was always a mum to me. Dad was the best buddy. I know for many women the definition of "Mother" is "best friend", but not so in my case. My Amma threw her heart and soul into her career all through our youth - at times I have even accused her of being selfish. Today, two post graduations later and often taking the wayward path for most of my life, she is the one I call (shamelessly) for money - the same money she slogged for all our lives. Of course she ensured that we were never neglected - Dad took charge at home, and by default became our best buddy, because he put in time with us. (I can't stress more strongly how much the impression of time stays with a child - this hit me more so when a childhood friend, recently married, told me she'd consider taking a job she disliked for more money just so she could give her (yet-to-be-born) children "everything". A seemingly noble gesture I told her, to everyone but the child.)

I can't speak for my brother, but I know that the few times Mum actually tried to forge a bond with us I pushed her away, rebelled. She wouldn't do any of the "fun" stuff (most of which involved spending money we didn't have) and I always felt she had a soft spot for my brother (which I suppose he could accuse me of when it came to Dad).

But my Mum always surprised me during the most unexpected moments by standing by my side when it really counted. The moments I thought only Dad would. I never realised just how much she and I could have connected had I given her the chance - maybe how much different my life would have been. I don't have any regrets about what I've done with my life, but I know that if I had kept her in the loop I could have hurt a lot less people in the process. At this juncture, I KNOW these days are by far the most difficult I have experienced and I want everyone to know just how grateful I am to have her by my side. I also want her to know, but declarations of love have always been mocked in our family - actions always spoke louder. Of course she is still an ocean away but she calls every week now to check on me - and that means a lot to me. Another strong influence have been both my grandmothers. I strongly believe God was delegating His tasks to them - because though He can do anything and everything, He can't do it all NOW.

As much as I love the men in my life, they all come second to the women who live strongly in my heart, in the various spheres of my life. Nothing can be more difficult for them than to have to choose between their child's well being and their spouse's bruised emotions. At some point in our lives we have/will disappoint our parents. It's only a matter of when. There are various levels of expectations - my dad's was that we win the Nobel Prize :O)

Being the good child is hard when both the parent and child have their own chosen paths. My folks have overlooked all my disappointments quite easily when compared to most people I know. It is even harder to rebuild that bond with all the shattered pieces. However, I shall not lose hope. I shall persevere. Because one day (God willing) I shall be in their shoes. And as far as I know, no one handles disappontment as badly as I do :O)

Can't Get Enough

2008-09-04T04:11:00.004+05:30

I just finished watching P.S. I Love You, and I've bawled my eyes out so badly that they've gone red and sunk deep into the sockets. [Warning: Ladies watch this on your own - do NOT fool yourself into thinking your better half will enjoy this one, he will only ruin it for you.] You could probably get the entire movie review on any website but I would suggest that you go ahead and watch it, preferably alone, because it's so wonderfully cathartic.

The first five minutes felt as though the lines had been lifted from the story of my life. I saw the trailer many months ago and I've been harassing friends to download it for me for ages. (Now that my better half has a broadband connection he's getting me all my favourites.) I even saw the novel on several occasions and my cousin offered to lend me her copy but all I really wanted to see was Gerard Butler (Spartan King Leonides in the movie 300) in action. Something about this man makes me feel like a silly teenager (and everyone knows I'm FAR too dignified for that). However, my heart went out to Hillary Swank's (of The Freedom Writers and Million Dollar Baby) character - she plays a young woman whose husband passes away from a terminal illness. He leaves her a number of letters to help her overcome her loss. A tragic love story that ends well – which can only mean that all’s well. Kathy Bates as Swank's mother is a force to reckon with.

I am glad I waited to watch the movie first. The book would have killed it for me because the magic lies not only in the story but in the stunning visual imagery that accompanies it. About half the movie was shot in Ireland - no amount of imagination would have put such technicolour images in my head, or could have truly captured the romance of this country. It's as though it had all the magical threads necessary to weave a love story of this kind. I was swept away by the all-consuming love between a man and woman. So many emotions rush through you like a gale force making you laugh with the characters...and cry with them too. I have read hundreds of romance novels in my life and I've watched many a love story on the big screen. A few of the novels stand out, but by comparison, a greater number of movies are remembered. Why is that so? Is it because a love story, even when acted, is better told by the characters themselves than by a third person? I think the last time I cried like this was for Erich Segal's Love Story. I have added pictures here (because you really can't have TOO much of Gerard Butler - his Irish accent had me instantly melting into mushy goo that I was so grateful for my skin holding me together). On second thoughts, I decided to put in just one picture - that too of a scene I don't even remember being in the movie. I don't want to give away any more than I have to (also because I have no idea how to place many images on my blog so the less the better).

In fact, I think I'll compile a list of my Hollywood favourites...gosh how I LOVE lists.

My List of Must See Love Stories/Romantic Comedies:

1. Roman Holiday
2. The Holiday
3. Sweet Home Alabama
4. P.S. I Love You
5. Love Actually
6. Titanic
7. 50 First Dates
8. Sleepless in Seattle
9. You've Got Mail
10. Braveheart (for Mel Gibson and the wonderful chemistry he has with his female co-stars)
11. Robin Hood - Prince of Thieves (which had Bryan Adams' Everything I Do)
12. Ghost
13. Dirty Dancing
14. Pretty Woman
15. My Best Friend's Wedding
16. City of Angels
17. French Kiss
18. The Sound of Music
19. Notting Hill
20. The Last of the Mohicans (really loved the soundtrack more than anything)
21. Strictly Ballroom
22. Something's Gotta Give
23. Forrest Gump (for his undying devotion to Jenny)
24. Pearl Harbour
25. WALL - E
26. What Happens In Vegas

27. A Walk To Remember

28. Serendipity

Literate Fool

2008-09-02T02:21:00.005+05:30

Found this on Nancy's blog so I figured since I'm bored out of my skull and it's way too close to bed time (only 2:22 am) I'll have a go at it.

The Rules Are As Follows:

1) Look at the list and bold those you have read.

2) Italicize those you intend to read.

3) Underline the books you really love and ~~strikethrough the ones you hate.~~

4) Reprint this list in your own blog.

1. Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
2. The Lord of the Rings - JRR Tolkien
3. Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte
4. Harry Potter series – J.K. Rowlin
5. To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee
6. The Bible
7. Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte
8. Nineteen Eighty Four - George Orwell
9. His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
10. Great Expectations - Charles Dickens
11. Little Women - Louisa M Alcott
12. Tess of the D'Urbervilles - Thomas Hardy (The Mayor of Castorbridge?)
13. Catch 22 - Joseph Heller
14. Complete Works of Shakespeare
15. Rebecca - Daphne Du Maurier
16. The Hobbit - JRR Tolkien
17. Birdsong - Sebastian Faulks
18. Catcher in the Rye – J.D. Salinger
19. The Time Traveller's Wife - Audrey Niffenegger
20. Middlemarch - George Eliot (The Mill on the Floss?)
21. Gone With The Wind - Margaret Mitchell
22. The Great Gatsby - F Scott Fitzgerald
23. Bleak House - Charles Dickens
24. War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy
25. The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams
26. Brideshead Revisited - Evelyn Waugh
27. Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky
28. Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck
29. Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll
30. The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame
31. Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy
32. David Copperfield - Charles Dickens
33. Chronicles of Narnia - CS Lewis
34. Emma - Jane Austen
35. Persuasion - Jane Austen
36. The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe - CS Lewis
37. The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini (A Thousand Splendid Suns?)
38. Captain Corelli's Mandolin - Louis De Bernieres
39. Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden
40. Winnie the Pooh - AA Milne
41. Animal Farm - George Orwell
42. The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown (And the other 3)
43. One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
44. A Prayer for Owen Meaney - John Irving
45. The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins
46. Anne of Green Gables - LM Montgomery
47. Far From The Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy
48. The Handmaid's Tale - Margaret Atwood
49. Lord of the Flies - William Golding
50. Atonement - Ian McEwan
51. Life of Pi - Yann Martel
52. Dune - Frank Herbert
53. Cold Comfort Farm - Stella Gibbons
54. Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen
55. A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth
56. The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon
57. A Tale Of Two Cities - Charles Dickens
58. Brave New World - Aldous Huxley
59. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time - Mark Haddon
60. Love In The Time Of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
61. Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck
62. Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov
63 The Secret History - Donna Tartt
64 The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold
65. Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas
66. On The Road - Jack Kerouac
67. Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy
68. Bridget Jones's Diary - Helen Fielding
69. Midnights Children – Salman Rushdie
70. Moby Dick - Herman Melville
71. Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens
72. Dracula - Bram Stoker
73. The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett
74. Notes From A Small Island - Bill Bryson
75. Ulysses - James Joyce
~~76. The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath~~
77. Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome
78. Germinal - Emile Zola
79. Vanity Fair - William Makepeace Thackeray
80. Possession - AS Byatt
81. A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens
82. Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell
83. The Color Purple - Alice Walker
84. The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro
85. Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert
86. A Fine Balance - Rohinton Mistry
87. Charlotte's Web – E.B. White
88. The Five People You Meet In Heaven - Mitch Albom
89. Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
90. The Faraway Tree Collection - Enid Blyton
91. Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad
92. The Little Prince - Antoine De Saint-Exupery
93. The Wasp Factory - Iain Banks
94. Watership Down - Richard Adams
95. A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole
96. A Town Like Alice - Nevil Shute
97. The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas
98. Hamlet - William Shakespeare (Does this not fall under "Complete Works"?)
99. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - Roald Dahl (Plus every book this man has written.)
100. Les Miserables - Victor Hugo

My score is: 27/100 - which is pretty much retard level. I can list a about five hundred other books that should be on this list (which I have read). Now I just feel lousy - m going to bed.

Little Things That Drive Me Crazy

2008-09-01T00:45:00.003+05:30

People tell me some of the most vile and disgusting stuff happen in restaurant kitchens - and you can never tell what's in your food, even at places with a 5 star rating. This where "Outta sight, outta mind" was coined I suppose. However, some totally gross stuff happen right out in public, some times barely a few inches from where we stand. I do not refer to the vast multitudes who pee on the sidewalks...I shall devote another post to them, a task for another day.

Today, I went to get talktime at a local shop. The shop owner is a very friendly guy, always greets me with a "How are you madam?" Today, he happened to be digging in his ear with nails I fear he has grown long specifically for this purpose. Then he took his phone, pressed a few buttons (with the same finger) and handed it over to me to punch in my phone number. Naturally I hesitated and started reading out my number from my phone, pretending as though I had forgotten what it was.

Yesterday, while walking towards Forum Mall, I passed a roadside vendor who sells odds n ends - plastic combs, mirrors, etc. I saw a policeman bend down, pick up a nail cutter from the vendor's pile and cut his nails right there on the sidewalk. I'm sure if he was actually thinking of purchasing it he could have very well done his personal grooming at home. The vendor stood by watching helplessly - he couldn't say anything I suppose because he's not even supposed to be there selling his stuff.

A few weeks back a girl in hostel really drove me over the edge - of course I never let her know it because on my face was a look of utter serenity and peace. I had treated myself to one of those (extremely rare) Pringles moments. She happened to be sitting in the hall (on someone else's bed) giving herself a pedicure. From my bed I had a clear view of her scraping out the dirt in her toe nails and scrubbing off dead skin cells with extreme vigour. Just when I happened to close my door on this charming view another girl came by asking if I had anything to eat. I offered her the Pringles. She looked at it with doubt, said she'd never tried it before, asked what flavour it was (Ranch), tasted it, wrinkled her nose at it...and offered some to Pedicure girl, who promptly put her hand (the one that was cleaning her feet moments before) right into my box of chips. It was already past 10pm, shops were closed, I was up working late and that was ALL I had to eat - guess who went hungry that night?

Friends have often made fun of me - saying when I have kids I'll probably keep them permanently afloat in a bucket of Dettol. All my hygiene quirks only surfaced when I started to live on my own, that too after coming to India. Hostel life had given me my fair share of hair n dead bugs in my food. That doesn't bother me now as much as it used to. I had the bad luck of being made Hostel President in my college years - I really thought I could make a difference (foolish me). Girls kept insisting on leaving their used sanitary pads spread out wide open on the LID of the dustbin because taking a crap in the morning was already asking too much of their constipated nature! Is it any wonder then that they're still so full of shit? When I requested Sister that the girls be given newspapers to wrap their pads in, she refused. She said they'd use it to line their shelves instead! (I could not resign from this post, so I made regular announcements in the dining hall while the girls were eating: I told them that every time a fly sat on their food - it had probably sat on a used sanitary pad first!)

If you have had any similar experiences, please do leave a comment here. It would help to know that this is not just another OCD. Much as I love her, I am not Monica (of Friends).

Food for Thought

2008-07-30T00:20:00.006+05:30

"Why throw the dog a bone when you've sucked all the juice out of it?"

I have no idea where that expression came from - it is possible that I may have made it up just now. I have often wondered about this though...

Where I grew up, we (the Mallus) used to have get-togethers quite often as a form of socialising and communing with "our own". The most popular parties were the braais (barbecues) because they were probably the easiest on the host. Different types of meat are marinated well in advance to be cooked later by the men. They would hover around the coal grill with a bottle of beer in one hand while attempting flip over a piece of meat with the other. The women prefered to socialise in the kitchen while chopping veggies for the salads. This very simple meal is often accompanied by freshly baked bread rolls from the local supermarket (Pick 'n Pay), mango pickle (Monate Achaar) and later, almost as a second course, a bowl of rice is offered with a curry (usually the spicy Kerala fish curry) and a veg side dish (usually green beans sauteed in coconut). Such an option means that the host doesn't have to slave over a variety of curries, which often take time to prepare, while at the same time provide in terms of quantity because it gets everyone involved in the preparation. The children do their part by making mashed potatoes (loaded with butter) or fixing paper plates onto the bamboo plates and serving soda. Dessert would usually be ice-cream (in the summer) or fruit salad with warm custard (in the winter). Man, how I miss those days...

Where was I? Oh yes, so at these braais, there would be a lot of bones because obviously there was a lot of meat. And I'd some times notice people really chew at the bones to squeeze out every juicy bit (I like this part too) and then...put it aside for the dog!!! What on earth is left on that bone that a dog could possibly enjoy chewing? Noticing that, I would often leave ample meat on my chicken bones to compensate, because in my mind, that simply does NOT count as wasting food! When you see that look of expectation in their eyes, inspired the lovely smell of meat sizzling on the coal grill, and you give them a bone that's been ground to dust by your teeth, saliva oozing from it - gosh, it breaks my heart.

Then I often wonder at how we may be doing that to other human beings. Raise their expectations very high only to grind it to dust later. Parents have expectations of children, and children have expectations of parents, husband of wife, boss of his subordinate, etc etc etc. The thing is, how far do we let this disappointment take over our lives? How much more simpler life would be if we could be like dogs. Their expectations of life never vary with experience like ours do. They never get beaten down. We could throw them a dry bone a million times but their expectations of us will always be for a juicy one. Their eyes will shine with hope and love. And even after the disappointment, when they discover nothing but ground bone dust, they give us this fleeting sad look and bounce over to give us another chance. I have never lived with a dog all my life - but I have always had people in my life who have. I learnt one of life's harshest lessons from man's best friend...

Tunnel Vision

2008-06-27T19:56:00.005+05:30

I have been wanting to visit the Theosophical Society in Adyar for so long - more so, when a foreigner recommended it in the newspaper recently. I dunno why I waited so long. Maybe it's because my days of doing "absolutely nothing" in Chennai were fast coming to an end. Sigh... Anyhow, I woke up at around 1 p.m. (because I only go to bed by 5 a.m.) and got ready. I reached there by 3:20 p.m., only to be told by the security that I can only visit the "Aala-maram" or Banyan tree (Ficus benghalensis), for which this place is famous for, because they close at 4 p.m. I did not know this. I parked my biked and ventured in. It's a botanist's dream I suppose - plenty of trees and plants, and some really spectacular species of birds that I had never set eyes on before. While walking, I started to feel like one of the characters in M. Night Shyamalan's The Happening (which was so NOT happening). There was a mild breeze (we are near the sea) and the leaves started to whisper creepy nothings. It didn't help that there wasn't a soul around, except for the random gardener who was hidden by bushes. Anyhow I took a lot of pictures and scooted out of there.

I didn't know where to go after that as my adventure came to a rather quick end. So I just kept riding my bike (which I realised these past 2 weeks that I miss like mad when I'm in Bangalore) till I reached Besant Nagar beach. It was still sunny and hot so I walked into this resturant called Mash, and took a table at the balcony which has a stunning view of the sea. A seafood pasta and vanilla milkshake later, I was still bored, so I plugged in my iPod and took a walk on the beach, wondering all the time whether or not to venture into the water. It's wasn't really weird to do this stuff by myself. I enjoyed being alone with my thoughts, but also hoped the sea breeze would carry away a few unwanted ones with it. Then it struck me that I needed a good pedicure before my friend's engagement party tomorrow evening. The place I usually go to was at the other end of town and it really didn't seem worthwhile. So, I just stood there at the water's edge, and let some really salty water wash up against my feet. It had started to cool down by then, the sun was setting, children were flying kites and the fast food stalls set up their woks and plastic chairs in invitation. My iPod was playing my favourite music, which wasn't so loud that it drowned out the crash of the waves. I couldn't avoid getting my jeans a little wet, but the spray of the sea as the waves crashed into one another was, as they say, "zimbly amazing"! Rough sea sand and salty water - what better combo to exfoliate your feet huh?

Great memories are associated with this beach. Some of my closest friends in life bonded on this beach. Memories of my youthful days continue to haunt me. Because as I approach 30, I have yet to make the transition - and I'm left unbalanced. I spent these past few days watching Friends, but only about 9 seasons! It must be the third or fourth time but I never tire of it because it feels like the story of my life - except NY is Chennai and Central Perk is Coffee Day! They say your teen years are the worst transition and maybe they are. But that undefined stage in your life, where you're neither in college nor married with kids - that stage inbetween - that just REALLY sucks. And it's worse when family members breathe down your neck to get "settled down" and all you really want is to show them the finger and tell them to mind their own business.

My God, look at what visiting the Theosophical Society did to me today! Or was it me being alone with my thoughts? Cos funnily, I felt good thinking it, but when I come home and write about it, the story takes a different course. Why am I so depressing? And like a rhinoceros, why do I always charge blindly towards that which continues to test my strength, and then wonder why I fail miserably? Why? Why? Why?

Well Nancy That!

2008-06-26T01:31:00.003+05:30

Well, I was tagged by Nancy - and I have no idea how THAT works - so I just copy pasted this from hers:

I am: what I am.

I think: but not before I speak.

I know: left from right, but rarely right from wrong.

I want: what I can't have.

I have: crazy hair - you can't miss it.

I wish: I always had just enough money in my purse ALL the time.

I hate: self-righteous people. They make me feel guilty.

I miss: my childhood days. My folks were the centre of my existence. And I was theirs.

I fear: death. But not mine so much.

I feel: for the person reading this.

I hear: voices in my head, often too late known as The Voice of Reason.

I smell: that funny smell that cats leave behind. My brother has cats. I am in his house now.

I crave: spicy beef biltong and waffles with cream (separate, not together - ewww!).

I search: for my glasses when I am wearing them.

I wonder: at God's marvellous creations. Simply amazing!

I regret: many many things, none of which I can do ANYTHING about (shrug).

I love: the people in my life. Oh, I love them!

I ache: in that region right above my coccyx - a sign of fast-approaching middle age.

I am not: perfect, nor do I want to be.

I dance: because I can!

I sing: because I believe I can! Doesn't matter what you think!

I cry: at the drop of a hat!

I don't always: mince my words.

I fight: like a lunatic - screaming, arms thrown about, words not making any sense.

I write: what I feel, but end up feeling rather shallow and depressed afterwards.

I win: some. And that's not a lot considering I like to win.

I lose: hope easily.

I never: do well in exams. People say it's cos I don't study but I dunno...

I always: do the predictable.

I confuse: Uh...What?

I listen: if it's interesting, else why bother?

I can usually be found: lying curled up in bed with a novel or a laptop.

I need: to be right. Always.

I am happy about: very little in life. Ungrateful wretch that I am, I seek out melancholy to fuel my melodrama.

I imagine: a world without rape, hunger, war, poverty, pollution, etc - yeah I am SO wild!

Wonder What's Next?

2008-06-18T00:30:00.006+05:30

It's a little difficult to name ALL the places in the world that I'd like to visit so I think I'll start with random Wonders of the World - seriously, who decides what is and isn't a wonder?

1. The Taj Mahal (Done) - because it's in my country! No seriously, my first view of it had me in stunned silence for a few minutes. It's majestic. Many tragedies lie behind its construction but that really doesn't take away its striking beauty.
2. The Grand Canyon - many movies influenced this one. The most recent one I watched was Next with Nicholas Cage. A close friend went there with her husband in a hot air baloon, and they had a candlelit dinner right in the canyon!
3. The Great Wall of China - well it's a wall! When Robert Frost said "good fences make good neighbours" I don't think he'd heard of this one. I remember learning in school that it's the only man made structure that can be seen from the moon.
4. The Pyramids of Giza, The River Nile - The Mummy
5. Machu Pichu - well they call me Achu at home...
6. Stonehenge - From Asterix
7. The Statue of Christ the Redeemer - it's about Jesus Christ, and it looks cool.
8. The Colosseum, St. Peter's Basilica - Roman Holiday, Gladiator
9. Petra, Jordan - Indiana Jones
10. Mount Everest - well while everyone has their own Everest, this one set the standards.
11. The Great Barrier Reef - for Steve Irwin, and for the fact that it is the only natural phenomenon that can be seen from the moon.
12. Chichen Itza - it's in Mexico!
13. The Statue of Liberty - From a Betty's Diary entry in an Archie comic book.
14. Uluru -
15. The Niagara Falls - It's a lot of water I hear.
16. The Amazon Jungle/River -
17. Table Mountain (Done)
18. Angkor Wat
19. Disneyland - for making childhood so magical!

My Must See Cities:

1. New York
2. Paris
3. Rio de Janeiro
4. Los Angeles
5. London - just cos it's in the UK, the Queen, Big Ben, Piccadilly,
6. Amsterdam
7. Istanbul - alias Constantinople, where East meets West.
8. Hong Kong - Jackie Chan! And a foot massage!
9. Sydney - for the Opera House
10. Cape Town (Done)
11. Venice - my better half hopes to take me there on our honeymoon.
12. Madrid - I learnt Spanish dancing a little when I was in school. Couldn't get a hang of the castanets.
13. Athens
14. Jerusalem - The Holy Land
15. Tokyo
16. Casablanca
17. Colombo
18. Kolkata
19. Chennai (Done)
20. Salzburg - for The Sound of Music Tour

This entry is under perpetual updation.

My Bucket List

2008-06-16T20:02:00.004+05:30

I am whiling away my time in ways most would call unproductive - watching movies! Gosh how I love to sit down with a bowl of munchies and watch a really good movie! A movie that makes me think, feel and analyse, get things into perspective, and wonder at the amazement of all the human creativity and energy that goes into making a movie magical. Today I watched The Bucket List starring Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman. I've wanted to watch this for some time now, ever since I saw the trailers last year. However, the cost of movie tickets in Bangalore cover my travel expenses for two weeks and considering I'm not working, I have convinced myself that my laptop and head phones will give me the ultimate digital experience.

The movie is about two aging men who are dying from cancer, and who have been told they have less than a year to live. Freeman is a romantic and GK buff who wanted to be a history professor but ended up being a car mechanic for 45 years. Nicholson is a self-made millionaire. The two become good friends while sharing a hospital room. With the knowledge of their impending deaths, they decide to embark on a shared adventure based on a list they wrote lying on their hospital beds. I won't kill the movie by telling you exactly what crazy things they get up to but I will say that a lot of it was made possible because it was financed by the millionaire. It made me wonder how many of us actually have a list of stuff that we would like to see, own or achieve - and actually make it a reality. My personal list was very close to the one in the movie, but I see now I will probably have to revise it or put it under a heading "If I were a Millionaire". By the way, it's called The Bucket List because it has a list of stuff you MUST do before you "kick the bucket". There is a particularly touching scene in the movie where Freeman talks about 45 years having flown by, and the emptiness he felt after his last child left home. My eyes filled with tears as I thought about my folks who have thrown all their energy and focus into my life, and now that my brother has left home too how awfully lonely it must be for them.

I have made lists all my life. Not just for the convenience of not having to remember it in my head, but to have the pleasure of scratching it off my list as "DONE". The finality of it feels like that moment when you have won a race and snapped the ribbon in two. However, I will write a list here, which will probably have many additions with time, so that in sharing with the world I may be motivated that much more to achieve my goals. Some may be incredibly silly but those who know me will understand why they are so. In no particular order, here goes:

My Bucket List

1. Marry the man I love.
2. Learn to say "No", and say it without feeling guilt.
3. Master French - I've been fumbling with the basics for too long.
4. Learn to cook (what I do know I am not sure comes under this classification - in my defense I have not had access to a kitchen in many years - living on hostel food).
5. Resume my passion for baking (soon as I can afford an oven).
6. Have enough land around my house for an oak tree, among other trees.
7. Build a house.
8. Build a tree house in my oak tree.
9. Learn to speak Hindi.
10. See the world (there will be a separate list for this one).
11. Make time for God. Make time for family.
12. Get a job that is fulfilling.
13. Take care of my health - eat right, exercise, meditate.
14. Read the illustrated version of the Kama Sutra without feeling an ounce of embarrassment.
15. Go to an Italian opera atleast once (this I got from watching Pretty Woman).
16. Learn Latin American dancing (this I got from Dirty Dancing and Strictly Ballroom).
17. Wear hot pants even when I'm fifty - assuming I'm in good shape (see no. 13).
18. Control my temper. Show patience. Count to ten. Close my eyes so I don't LOOK as crazy as I feel. I will not raise my voice in anger or to over power someone in an argument. Logic and rationale is my mantra.
19. Turn to God to guide me in every step I take. Accept that I cannot do everything on my own.
20. Have atleast 2 dogs in the house always - they need each other's company to 'bitch' about us.
21. Learn to drive, change tyres, figure out why there's smoke coming out of the engine, etc.
22. Learn to manage with 6 hours of sleep.
23. Put aside 30 mins in the day for ME (this is after a I get a job, manage a family etc. cos right now I have ALL the time in the world).
24. Learn to keep my thoughts and opinions to myself (except on a blog of course!).

This is it for now.

Enlightenment

2008-06-13T16:53:00.004+05:30

I haven't written anything for some time now. To be honest, with the exams around the corner, followed by the really sad job interviews I've attended, and the complete lack of interest in doing anything worthwhile with my life has left me totally disconnected with everyone and everything. I'm on a break now, giving myself some time to "get away from it all". A friend gave me two DVDs to watch - evangelical conferences by a man called Louis Giglio called "Indescribable" and "How Great is our God". If you're a Christian, or "think" you are one, I recommend you watch it. In these talks he has described the beauty of God's creations with a scientific approach. Religion and science working hand in hand? Yup! And beautifully too.

I was confused with the workings of Religion, or Spirituality as some call it, for many years and I didn't really have a relationship with God as was intended by my Christian upbringing. In 2007, an adventure camp with WAC (We Amplify Christ) - a Chennai based Christian youth group - brought so many questions to light. I have come to understand that God works in mysterious ways and while He is always present in our lives, it is we who have to go in search of him to feel His presence. It doesn't matter which church we belong to. It SHOULDN'T matter. People claim to be Christians but what they take actually pride in is the church they belong to. Because belonging to any one church has its own benefits and associations - social mobility, power, respect amongst their own people. It is such aspects that take away the 'spirit' in spirituality and causes division and prejudice.

I remember once many years ago, when I forwarded an interesting article to many friends, one replied saying, "So, you're still out to save the world eh?" I remember feeling acute embarassment then. If I knew then what I know now, I would have defended my actions. What's wrong with wanting to save the world? Everyone has their own super hero - mine is Jesus Christ. I feel that with His guiding hand I can do wonders. I don't claim to be humble, moral or even remotely saintly - but if we all worked towards that, I think the world would be a much safer place to live in.

Psycho

2008-05-19T19:30:00.004+05:30

I fight with my better half every other day. Then I wonder why... I know it's not him. It's me. It's the woman in me. And everyone knows women are just plain crazy. And because they have let the whole world know that their menstrual cycle is quite a stressful event, they have come up with PMS to explain away their crazies for the rest of the 25 days of the month. And PMS could mean Pre- OR Post-Menstrual Stress which covers every day of the month for when ever we want to throw a random fit. "Look, I'm PMSing alright? Get used to it." I realise I am making light of quite a serious problem. But it confounds me that I am becoming this person I don't recognise. Sudden rages erupt over the silliest matters...drama, melodrama, rash behaviour. Do I need to see a shrink? Yes. Can I afford one? Absolutely not!

Don't get me wrong - there are really good days with him too. But any talk about: marriage, married people, engaged people, pregnant people, people who should be married but aren't, people who look older than they are, people who are older than they look, hair loss, cellulite, love handles, beer bellies, working out, not working out, not having time or money to work out, back pain, headaches, employment, savings, retirement funds, college funds (for my kids), etc can mess with my head with disastrous results. I guess my only worry is that I am not married yet. But all the other worries I mentioned some how, in some weird way, seem related to it. People keep telling me to pray, that patience will persevere, that persistence will pay, that I am lucky to be marrying the one I love, that I should be positive, that I should focus on my career. But all I can think about is my wedding day - and that I want it to happen SOON! My better half always sees the silver lining in the cloud - he is always so optimistic. And I have seen this aspect in many of my guy friends who are in relationships. Often, it is the women who fall apart or back out. How do men remain so stoic when we give them every reason to run away from us?

I will be 28 next Feb, and most of my friends will have been married by then. Some are already having their second child! Funnily enough, being left behind is the least of my worries because I am not runnning this race. What worries me is that I am putting my life on hold because for some reason I am not able to move forward or take any decision about my life till I get married. At first I thought I was just too scared to take charge of my life and was looking for excuses. But I know now it's not. Marriage for women is a milestone that has to be crossed before they can consider different avenues. Rebellious as I was when this same dialogue was parroted to me, it all makes sense now. Marriage is a serious consideration for any woman who has crossed 25 - it's always there at the back of their heads. I want to plan only two things in my life and both are not entirely in my hands: my career and when to have children. Once these two get taken care of, it'll automatically influence any other decision I take because I'll have to accommodate both of these first. I would rather not have any unpleasant surprises here...

But to be honest - I NEVER imagined I'd pine away for married life - I was sure no man was worth the effort and I felt he would hold me back. Surprise! I never thought I'd fall in love - I was ready for the traditional arranged marriage. Surprise! I never imagined I would explore different careers - confused as I was about what I wanted out of life, I imagined I would just follow the crowd. Surprise! I sure as hell never thought I'd blog about my life, and actually have people interested in reading it!

If you have gotten this far without falling asleep, I am going to assume the extreme ordinaryness of my life is well worth all the waiting! Aaah...what the heck! I have the time I suppose... :O)

Knock Knock

2008-05-14T23:26:00.004+05:30

Grandma 'Baby' is like a mischievous girl who knocks on people's doors, then runs like mad in the opposite direction. She hadn't eaten food for close to eleven days - and she suddenly decides to eat last night. She has had everyone stunned. The past two days have flown by with people passing by to pay their "last respects" - priests and nuns offering their prayers in earnest. We didn't want to tell anyone, not yet. Because Baby has been through all this before - and a great many relatives, many of whom who never bothered to call or visit while she was alive and healthy, came rushing home from far and wide to say "goodbye" thinking this was the last they'd ever see of her. My aunt, who has been looking after her so wonderfully these past ten years feels it's her duty to keep "near and dear" ones informed - for the most part she has the anxiety that she will some how be blamed if Baby leaves us.

In all honesty, I don't know if this passage is about my aunt or my grandmother. Let me describe to you my experiences these past two days - none of which was new to me because I have gone through it every time I pass through Salem - this experience being the MOST gruelling of all. When Baby was weak from lack of food, the doctor did come by and put her on glucose drips. However, this did nothing for her. She couldn't even lift an eyelid. She would pass all her bodily functions on the bed, while sleeping with a rubber sheet under her. Then, myself and my 20-year-old cousin would wipe her clean with wet tissues - my first time cleaning another human being made me think twice, no thrice, about motherhood. All I could do was tell myself that this very private place I am looking at is the same place my father and his kin came out from. My heart hurt with the knowledge of the discomfort she may have been feeling, or the discomfort I may have felt in her place. She had to hand over her dignity to strangers many years ago, but I cannot imagine any human being ever "getting used to it". It is a gross and unjust punishment and I cannot understand why she should have to go through it at all. After a day of doing the usual cleaning procedures, we found she had bed sores on her lower back which had broken after infection. The skin had basically lifted on the surface, and we had to clean the wound twice a day (more if it gets wet) with hydrogen peroxide, and dress it with cotton and medicated powder. We got her a water bed which is supposed to help with bed sores, but which made our job more difficult when it came to moving her. We would then powder her head to toe with Dermi Cool heat rash powder - when no one was looking I threw some down my shirt as well. Most importantly, we needed a minimum of three people at any one time to lift, hold, carry or move her. She didn't even have the strength to speak. I didn't have the strength for anything else.

After she started to eat yesterday and get her strength back, we saw a little bit of the old Baby come back to life. However, she was still the same physically and depended on us for every need. The only problem is, this time she could speak - and she kept calling out to us every 5 minutes. No exaggeration here. This is the Baby we ALL knew quite well. Granted that I come by once in a blue moon but if I am tiring of it, I cannot imagine what my aunt and my cousins are going through. My uncle, for the most part, is the least affected despite being Baby's son. He is very involved in her life - but not for the messy bits. My aunt hasn't slept properly in ten years - even when Baby was sound asleep, she keep awake imagining her voice calling out to her. No one can deny that she has taken really good care of grandma, in spite of being her daughter-in-law!

My aunt is a working woman. A teacher at a private school, she is grossly over worked and underpaid. But she has always been enterprising and was the first in my dad's family to build a house of her own. She also owned a tailoring unit which she later sold to her sister, but continues to help her run it. Why, at 4 am this morning I found her cutting materials for school uniforms because some of their tailors had taken a vacation. She has become a physical and spiritual wreck these past ten years, and about half of it (she might feel it more) can quite honestly be attributed to her caring for Baby's every need. They are four sister-in-laws in the family (my darling mum being the first) but this one feels she was "caught" for having chosen to stay in Salem. We have been hunting for a full time nurse for ages (money is no object) - and have managed to keep at least four so far, but they have all left for various reasons. For the most part, they don't do their job, they don't wake up in the middle of the night when Baby calls out to them, they eat us out of house and home, make unnecessary demands (one asked for specific brands of soap, hair oil, etc) and charge an exorbitant fee for doing NOTHING! We have done everything we could to get them to stay - but when they started to become more of a problem than a solution - well, what else can we do? There is no way my aunt will be able to do a day job and stay awake at nights to look after Baby. Even she, despite her pain and hardship, isn't keen on sending Baby to a "home" - not that Baby would ever go any way.

The hardest part is for me to want my grandmother around because I love her, and to want her around despite my aunt's pain even though I could probably not look after her. The guilt eats away at all of us for feeling what we do. When grandma keeps knocking on Death's door, she worries us all, but she also gives some hope. They hope to start living their life without her as an encumberance. They hope to be able to take a vacation as a family, attend weddings and funerals, or just go out for dinner - none of which they have been able to do for many many years. My cousins have both just started college and I know they have had to make many sacrifices that I took for granted growing up. When I first walked into Baby's room, seeing her lying there deathly pale and fragile, my eyes welled up with tears. I whispered into her ears for two days that I wanted her at my wedding. I also told her my dad was on his way to see her. I don't know what gave her the strength to wake from the dead once again - but in doing so, she has many praying that her stay be short. When I leave here in two days time, I leave her in the hands of people who love her, but who do not have the strength to keep her in their lives. She knows this too. I hurt for her and I hurt for them - that is all I can do...

Baby

2008-05-11T18:39:00.003+05:30

My grandmother is refusing to eat, open her eyes or speak to anyone - she's 83 years old and people are talking as though she has reached the end of her road. This is really beginning to bug me. Though she's been "Ammachi" to me all my life, all her life she's been "Baby" to everyone else - and she's had 5 of her own. My dad is her second born. She has been an emotional wreck ever since grandpa died in 1995, as though he was the elixir on which she drew all her strength and vitality. She had ruled the household with an iron fist, and to those who knew her, with a good heart. After his death, she was diagnosed with Parkinson's - a disease that has left much of her dignity in the hands of complete strangers. She is a strong woman - and has whethered many storms such as this, having many claim that she wouldn't survive it. But she always has. I am leaving tonight to see her. I hope she'll pull through. In the last 7 years or so since I've been here I have come to love her a lot more than I could admit. More importantly - frail as though she may seem, she is the pillar on whom my father leans on. He has already lost one parent, it would hurt him so much more to lose the other. So Baby, I am counting on you to hang in there...don't leave us please. God Bless. Muaah!

Anticipation

2008-04-24T21:22:00.007+05:30

I have a ten thousand word dissertation due in less than 2 days...but all i can think about is the much awaited television screening of "Kya Aap Panchvi Pass Se Tez Hai" (a quiz show based on the international format "Are you smarter than a fifth grader?") tomorrow at 8 pm on Star Plus.

It'll be in Hindi, and though I won't understand most of it I'm sure anything that shows cute, oversmart kids kicking adult a*** will be a sure winner! Their campaigns have been quite aggressive but being a Shah Rukh fan, I don't find the constant reminder too intrusive. The prize money is 5 crores (that's 5 followed by 7 zeroes or Rs. 50 million!) - the biggest ever in Indian television! The best part is that the questions are taken from the fifth standard syllabus - not as easy as one may think. Any one hoping to take part better be prepared stand in the corner, stand on one leg or wear the dunce's hat! The only difference is that this time you'll be able to laugh about it.

All Cried Out

2008-04-22T23:01:00.004+05:30

I hate confrontations. But I rush headlong into them anyway because if it doesn't get resolved immediately, it'll eat me up. I can always justify my actions because I am good with words, but my body language and my wild wild hair speak a different story. I hate confrontations because I am short tempered and prone to quick flare-ups. I can get real "cheap", use every bit of ammunition I can find to fight my war, and that is ALWAYS my greatest downfall. The upside is that I am as quick to forgive and accept apologies - but by then it's too much said too soon, and too late to repair the damage.

Quite recently, three strangers (two profs and a friend's friend) described me in their own (sweet?) way - rebellious (and negative), intimidating, and aggressive. None of them knew me all that well, which got me wondering "how am I projecting myself to the rest of the world"? I have noticed a very obvious change in my personality over the past two years - there is a lot of anger and resentment in me. Not towards any person in specific but towards mankind as a whole. I go out in search of arguments and fights. I say the meanest things that hurt the people I love most. I hate the maniac I am slowly becoming. I don't what the root cause of this anger is but I'd give anything to find out. It could even be PMS or work-related stress, I really don't know! The last thing I want is to be melodramatic about the things that suck in my life - I don't want to be this sad princess who needs rescuing. I don't need rescuing.

My better half often asks me why we can't discuss anything serious without me eventually bursting into tears. Tears are not a woman's weapon - it is her downfall. Once you get into that trap of crying just so he'll hear you out, you're doomed. Men don't listen - and have been programmed to respond to tears. Women cry as a last resort because every other option of trying to communicate as a "reasonable person" goes flying out the window when men get that glazed look in their eyes. Then it's just intense fury that sets in because you may want strangle him but you know he'll swat you away like a fly with a flick of his wrist. They choose public places to drive you up the wall - leaving you with the option of screaming like a shrew or walk away with some dignity intact. The bottling up of this frustration is what leads to the opening of the floodgates. It's not the same sweet n salty tears that one sheds when they're sad. It has all the bitterness of anger, frustration, irritation and humiliation in it - taste and see. We cry because that's the only time people really open their eyes and notice we have a problem.

I hate confrontation because it might make me cry and THAT I hate more than anything else. Of course it'll only happen with those I genuinely care about - the rest of the world be damned, but that's what makes it all the more difficult to deal with. I cry, I worry, I obsess, I run to find a dictionary cos I'm not sure how to SPELL 'obsess'! Most of all, I am scared to lose the one person in my life - I am scared he will find my violence too much of a burden to bear in the long run. He has put up with so much from me, so much more than love and duty requires him to. As is usual with most men, the vacant expression on his face that shows almost no emotion only makes me imagine the worst for our future.

I would have left me long ago...what is he waiting for?

Purity

2008-04-15T18:11:00.005+05:30

Who took this picture? Or who created it on Photoshop? It has all the beauty and goodness and wonder of God's green earth... Is this what inspired the first person who decided to decorate Christmas trees? What is the significance of a Christmas tree anyway? Is it about Christmas? Or is it about the tree? Is it a symbol, a reminder of the birth of Christ? And why should we be reminded? He was destined to die for us anyway. What significance does his death have? And if it doesn't have any significance, why was he born at all? Why was I born? What significance does my life have on this earth? Have I come to give birth or to destroy? What is my destiny...and when will I know?

The 5-Yard Menace

2008-04-15T17:21:00.008+05:30

The following is an article I submitted for my college magazine in my first semester. It was something I felt strongly about at the time when the college was expected to make us uniforms - as usual - guess what the girls got? I hope you like it:

My tirade is a result of the compulsions of wearing a sari as a uniform. (No sari was hurt during the making of this melodrama.) Granted that a sari is grand and elegant, and delightfully feminine – but its practicality, or lack thereof, forces us to question its relevance as formal attire in today’s business world.

Let’s get down to the basics from a student perspective. A sari forces a student to consider a more “safe” mode of transport – no sane girl would risk coming on her two-wheeler wearing one of these. For those who are just not used to a sari, travel by bus is also ruled out as chances are you’d trip and fall from the steps. I suppose now you’re thinking “So just get used to it then”…but it is easier said than done my friend.

Ask the young women of today and they’d tell you they’d rather not wear a sari unless it’s to a wedding or some important function where all that is required of them is to sit on a chair and look pretty. To carry off a sari well, a woman has to wear at least medium size heels for added height, and the sari border should delicately graze the ground. While one hand holds the end of the pallu, the other is probably clutching a handbag, a child, or in some not-so-rare cases a mug of beer, while the rest of the body is focusing on not losing balance and tripping on the sari. One really cannot blame working women, especially those for whom it is compulsory, for tying their saris above their ankles – it’s either that or fall and lose a couple of teeth.

Saris have been around for over 5000 years, and are still considered very fashionable. A sari should make a statement and its suitability depends on its various characteristics: the fabric, design, colour and style. What may suit one woman need not necessarily suit another and enforcing it as a uniform just kills everything that makes it so unique. A student in a sari will just not be comfortable wearing something that ensures that she cannot move beyond her seat, let alone climb many floors with a laptop and books in had. What’s more, if it happens to be a freezing cold day, the aerodynamics guarantees that cold air reaches all the wrong places. Let us now add on a jersey and woollen stockings to this 5-yard menace…Gasp! I can already feel the suffocation as I type this!

Histrionics aside, I would like wrap off (pun intended) by saying that as much as I enjoy wearing a sari, I could only truly feel comfortable in one if the occasion called for it. This generation grew up wearing clothes that were practical and suited for the purpose, and we’re now expected to wear something that requires millions of safety pins (ok at least 10!) to keep it together. Perhaps not every woman feels this way and there are many who could probably run marathons wearing one. Millions of saris in jataang (trans.: blinding) copper-sulphate blue must already be stocked up for us somewhere, ready to be handed out when the time is right. For now, I shall make do with my bed sheets for practice.

On Judging a Book by its Cover

2008-04-09T20:55:00.006+05:30

I just finished reading a book called “The No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency” by Alexander McCall Smith. It’s the first book in its series, and I bought it in the hopes of starting a collection. A short flashback is necessary here…

Three years ago, I read “The Full Cupboard of Life” by the same author, which is the fifth book in the series – and what prompted me to pick that one among the array on the bookshelf was the cover. The picture was of the contents of a kitchen cupboard. Nothing spectacular in this I realize, but to me it stood out splendidly. Why? Because, right at the top of this cupboard I noticed two products that I know by sight from my childhood years: Ricoffy (instant coffee) and Cremora (coffee creamer). These products are not available in India, but they are available in South Africa (where I grew up), and of course in Botswana where the stories unfold. The mere sight of these two products made me want to know more because, of all the coffee and creamers available in the market, the author chose to put in the two that I grew up on. Now you must understand that these images were not that big, nor were they photographs. The artist has gone into the minute details of revealing the items within a Tswana woman’s cupboard just enough that only those who know what it is can identify it. Also, because the stories are set in Botswana, and because I grew up very close to the border, I am able to relate to the people and their culture in a way that only those who grew up in Africa will understand, as I am sure Mr. A.M. smith understands. Their names, their mannerisms, and their love for Africa speak to me and unearth the beauty of a land that is slowly becoming a fading memory.

The main character, Precious Ramotswe or Mma Ramotswe as she is popularly known, doesn’t fail to bring a smile to my face in the seeming simplicity of her wisdom. Her adventures also take her through my small town, so when she talks about our railway station, I see the image in my head as though I was standing there myself. Through her eyes I see a vision of the Africa that I left behind. It is with books like these that I revisit the people I once knew, the people I failed to know better. As I moved from page to page, the African sunset comes alive in my head and the faint whispers of Nature make themselves heard. I know that if I want to go back in time, to a place that will bring me peace with the mere memory of it, I only have to think of Africa. I wish there were more people like Precious Ramotswe, an honourable woman who takes pride in her accomplishments and her heritage. I wish to start the very next book in this series so I may keep alive what I was scared I had lost. I wish for this same book to make itself known to others who have some connection to Africa, no matter how small, so that their memories may be awakened. I wish to go back some day and see Africa for what it has the potential to be, not lose hope for what it has become…

On Passing Exams

2008-03-06T01:14:00.005+05:30

Yes I cleared all my papers last sem without any arrears. Only the good Lord knows the kind of tension I was in about it...granted the tension is largely misplaced as I didn't work as hard as I COULD have. There's always the standard expectation that "I'll try harder for sure next term - no more messing around". Now I'm in my final sem of specialization, all I'm really doing with my time is catching up on Scrubs and Grey's Anatomy, wishing my life had all that drama, passion and intensity! And what lies behind most of us clearing our papers is the greatest mystery of all. Though I'd rather not question my good luck, I am in awe and in envy of those who didn't try AT ALL! I mean seriously! By those standards I have been burning a s*** load of midnight oil! It is THAT easy to get a degree in India. In fact, easier. Rumour has it that many pay to have their papers cleared. Meanwhile I go home with guilt for having asked a friend to whisper a formula when the invigilator looked the other way. Life here is made easy for many people along the way - in the hope that one day the help will be returned. What is the price one has to pay? Is it worth it to walk with pride for having earned something that you don't deserve?

This is our year...

2008-01-03T17:12:00.001+05:30

Another year has come and gone. However, I am pretty sure that 2008 will be excitingly different - God willing. One of my New Year Resolutions is....to BLOG more. Seriously, I am capable of writing far more decent stuff than I have a for the past 2 years or so. Granted, they were rather random thoughts and probably not written during the best of times. I do think that the more I write, the more perspective I'll get on where I want to go or who I want to be. How did I get to be as old as I am and still be quite useless? Perhaps "useless" isn't the word. I promised myself I'd lay off the defeatist attitude this year. Let's see how long that will last.

I started writing today because I suddenly felt, out of the blue, that it was my DUTY to write. Now why did I think that? I don't know. I wish I did...but I don't. We had a beautiful family reunion this Christmas - probably the best one so far. I wish I could have introduced him to the family...but the moment wasn't right. Or rather, the moment was just perfect but I didn't have the courage to. I'm still living in fear - fear of hurting others, and thus hurting myself. I wish the cycle would just snap!

We have two adorable additions to the family - they were adopted. Though one was moody and fussy (she wasn't feeling too good) the other was just the opposite. I think I'll call them Grimsey and Bubbles for now. Bubbles was a darling really. Smart and confident - she spoke charmingly well and was cute too. When I think of all the things she got up to, I am so glad to have her a part of the family. Grimsey is super smart too...but a bit of a spoilt brat - sorry Grims! Her folks give in to her every whim and fancy - and she gets away with things which would have got me two sharp smacks on my bottom. All the same she is only 5 years old - and I have behaved far worse at my age now! I'm really proud of my aunt and uncle who decided to adopt after years of waiting for a child of their own. Both Grimsey and Bubbles are a blessing. I can't help but feel a tug of sadness for the mothers who had to give them up to be adopted. I hope they know that their girls are loved and cherished by us here. I'm feeling rather maternal of late...it's the bio-clock tick-tocking I suppose.

I have to stop now - my tea is getting cold...

New beginnings

2007-10-10T16:08:00.001+05:30

Well...I got a fantastic job and gave it up 3 months later to do my MBA. Don't think it's all sudden. It's been a while since I last blogged...and I've just begun my SECOND semester. Settling into a new city, finding new friends...it sucks, big time! The only consolation is that my better half is here. That should actually be the bumper prize really but it's not. It's frustrating to put the state of my mood and sanity on his shoulders - especially as he's the one who's working. It would be great to have more people to go out with, just to have a drink and talk. I know he feels it too...more than me at times. I didn't know it was possible to be in a relationship and still want other people around you at times. Is this why married couples have children? Do single folks have more fun? I doubt it...the grass always seems greener on the other side. As much as I love moments alone with him, I also love to see him in the midst of company. He likes some of my friends...and I like very few of his. Where is this going? I dunno...

2007

2007-01-05T00:22:00.001+05:30

A new year...a new beginning. I was planning to delete this dumb blog...but then where would i go on my whining binges? So I have resolved to be a little less arrogant and smug...and a little more tolerant of mankind. If the world puts up with me, it chooses to at its own peril.

I hope I get a job soon.

Go on, Go on...Leave me breathless...

2006-12-11T19:26:00.000+05:30

Oh! to be young and dumb...
Oh! to have every folly blamed on immaturity and youth...
Sigh...

To my love

2006-12-10T19:08:00.000+05:30

You are the storm
You are the calm
For my weary head
You are the balm

I strongly feel I should be restrained from writing poetry...what do you think?

On listening

2006-12-10T17:23:00.001+05:30

He dislikes reading...a pastime I'm rather fond of. He claims to be a good listener, but I'm often so taken up with myself and my ego that I have doubted it. Lord only knows how many times. Yet, I continue to ramble on about the books I've read or wanted to read while he plays Zeppelin in his head. Many months later, wrapped in a Christmas package, was Marquez's "Love in the Time of Cholera". At that moment my memory does a scan back in time, trying to figure out when and where I mentioned that book, but I'm rather blank because joy is effused in my system...all coherence is lost. That was more than two years ago...and it made me realise that even when he doesn't seem to listen, he hears all the right things - and that's really all that matters.

Rambling

2006-12-03T22:32:00.002+05:30

Who am I? I wish I knew. Is it weird that I should be asking myself this in my mid-twenties? What the hell is this mid-twenties crisis about? It's driving me up the bloomin wall. What happened to all the teenage dreams and ideologies...? When did I begin to accept that it's ok to work for the love of money over job satisfaction? Well, yes, I am still very much unemployed...bored...I wouldn't say clueless...I definitely know what I want...It all rests in taking that decision to run away from those who equate success with money...unfortunately many of these people are immediate family and friends. Yes, yes I know they're just "looking out" for me really...but little do they realise that we would really just like a little encouragement for our crazy ideas...

I would love to be a primary school teacher...or perhaps a librarian. HA!HA! I bet you thought my crazy ideas involved something like being a belly dancer, snake charmer or perhaps even poppy cultivation? I know this occupation sounds extremely boring...and financially unrewarding. With what little experience I have, I've realised teaching teens are a real pain in the bottom...and with a bottom as big as mine,well...need I say more? They're very sassy [the kids i mean]...and when they are rude..hoo boy, it takes a lot of self-control to not reach out and grab em by their necks and shake em till their brains scatter all over the place...

Trust me, teaching is no piece of cake...and for someone who's as lazy as I am, it's probably the last occupation one should consider...at least for the sake of mankind...but I also had a lot of fun with my learners...I've learnt plenty from them...and more than anything...it's an occupation I would rather not pursue in India. The system here may or may not be the best...but it works for our people. I might very well be kicked out during my first week...I hate all the protocol involved. Now the thought of leaving this country leaves me in a fix - I just don wanna leave. I have lived abroad long enough to realise that home is really where the heart is...and we often hear of immigrants who would love to return home "one day, some day"...but it rarely happens...my folks are a case in point. This kind of thinking completely contrasts with my sense of romance and adventure. Why is it that we always have to sacrifice one good thing for the other? And will we, after making that sacrifice, regret our decision or learn to accept it for what it is? Let's face it, the road less travelled is exactly what it is because of the risks it involves...

Oh crap it's past my bed time...

Thinking Out Of The Box

2006-11-28T16:56:00.001+05:30

The following is on a recent episode which managed to irritate the hell out of me and begs mention...The Place: a very popular vegetarian fast food/take away/restaurant in Adayar. The time: Lunchish.

I sauntered in to parcel a rather fulfilling "mini meals". Why this place has one counter to place your order and another to pay the bill I shall never know (during rush hour you'd have to fight a crowd to get from one to the other). Why do I go back? The food is good. Why I probably shouldn't: the irritating sod at the counter. While i was about to pay my bill, a tiny old lady, who had quite a few parcels in her hand...obviously produce of the said establishment, was helping herself to a teaspoon of somph (also known as saunf, candied aniseeds, etc. - sort of an after-dinner mint) which was kept in a silver bowl on the counter. Next thing I hear the sod ticking her off for taking it, saying it's meant only for the diners and not for takeaways. Poor thing was so embarrassed she ran out clutching her packets of food. He didn't stop his tirade even after she was gone...making it seem as if she had ran of with their annual profit. A gist of it, loosely translated from Tamil was "where will we be if everyone who walks by grabs a teaspoon of this precious stuff?" It was after all a single teaspoon. And she WAS a customer, even if she didn't sit down to eat. Surely their shares in the stock market [if they had any] would fall because of it? Personally, I can't stand the stuff myself.

I wanted to strangle the man that very moment...but thought twice. First of all he was bigger than me...fat, ugly and spewing spittle everywhere. Then I thought he might signal to the cook to spit into my mini meals. The mere thought made me ill...of having to give up my lunch, especially as I had not had my breakfast. When i paid my bill I gave him a deadly glare. He responded by throwing my change at me. I thought ok, maybe my glare was a little blinding...and when combined with my wild, curly hair which LOOKS like it hasn't seen a comb in days, I must have been a scary sight. Then I realised he was throwing the change at everyone. What I would like to know is...WTF is management doing about this guy??? I mean isn't it time he was outta there? Are you blind you popular veg hotel in Adayar???

Unfortunately...he was still there when i went back for my mini meals the next day. I have a strong urge to accidentally knock that bloody silver bowl of candied aniseed off his counter. Its mere presence is a reminder of the humiliation that poor woman had endured, even if only for a few moments...

You will get yours some day fat guy...

Hello Blog

2006-11-28T12:59:00.001+05:30

Hmmm...Well i have begun a countless number of blogs, only to be at a loss for words. There really is no guarantee this one will last any longer, my problem being that i have plenty to say but i'm equipped with a limited vocabulary to say it all in. Now i know you're thinking "Oh please, don't strain your brain on OUR behalf"...No really...it's no trouble...because i am unemployed...yup...sittin at home with absolutely NOTHING to do...well i guess if one looks around there is always something to do...the question is do i WANT to do it? To blog or not to blog? Is that a question?

I'm hoping this blog will inspire in me a need to continue my writing...something i abandoned eons ago...my high school English teacher said i had a flair for writing...but i seem to have left it behind in high school...my life has become so boring i sometimes fall asleep writing in my own diary...I'm in my mid-twenties, unemployed and yet, not quite frustrated...except maybe when i see pictures of my peers taking a trip around the world...thats when i question what on earth am i doing with my life? When am i gonna take that trip?