Yesterday,I discovered what it felt like to be van Gog.I was steadily loosing my mind,and by the evening the deterioration was complete.I am not sure what brought it along.Probably an anxiety attack but the point is it was scary.I had lost control.Lets face it the stress has been building up for a while and when there is no one to talk to it all goes into ones system.Additionally I had to discharge a sick father from hospital.Just as that was done I had to rush to office to do interviews.May have been pleasant if I didn't have to meet the kind of people I do.They were the kind i would have nothing to do with.Add to that there was no time for lunch and before I knew it the chemicals in my brain had got the better of me.Slowly I was reduced to tears,if someone spoke to me I was hysterical,driving in that state is dangerous but I had not choice but to reach home and then it all come apart.At that point the wise thing would have been to take a sedative and go to sleep but I have this great fear of getting addicted so there it was,handling it all in a sane manner(if that is possible).By the time the husband arrived all hell had broken loose.He had called the mother(mine....bad decision) and the sisters called and I was a wreck.
I finally fell into a tired sleep.This morning I seem back to normal self.I am still trying to figure out what happened,I am trying to recreate the events that led to the breakdown.Its not a nice feeling and thank god I am not some creative genius because I may have cut off my ear at this rate.Oh to be normal again.
tea gardens
Friday, January 11, 2008
Discrimination right here
Everyone who goes abroad comes back with some story or the other about racial discrimination.I was warned about it in Spain,France and Germany but lucky me never had to face it.For now no one seems to be able to slot me into a nationality so that's a blessing,so many times I am mistaken for south American,Spanish etc.Suites me fine as otherwise I would draw unnecessary attention to myself.So for me racial discrimination exists somewhere.
Until today...right here in good old Chennai.Here is a so called lifestyle store called the Amethyst.Its usually full of the hip and happening and is a complete rip off.Not the kind of place I frequent but one is expected to sit there for hours sending mail or reading and generally meeting friends.Nice ambiance,old house et all but for the staff and the owner(i believe it all stems from the top).
Today i sat there reading my paper waiting to get...first of all a menu card.It took around 30 minutes for someone to condescend to give me one.Then no amount of attracting the attention of the waiter would help.The place you see was filled with white skins.Around 90% of the people there were not Indian.Were the waiters trained to attend only to the white skins.There they were at the beck and call of all them foreigners and not one of them bothered to come over to take the order.Am I surprised?....not really,on many occasions when I have been forced to meet someone at that place I have seen this happening.We talk of racial discrimination abroad but its alive and kicking right here in Madras and it makes me feel sick.If we cant appreciate what we have in our own country then we have no business complaining about being discriminated against.Places like these run by people who are still slaves to the white man will continue to treat the ones at home with scant respect.Unfortunately these places also hog the media limelight despite the rip off prices,the highly overrated ambiance and the slack service or just the lack of it.I believe its criminal on my part to even be seen there so the next time someone suggests the place guess I will have to decline.
Until today...right here in good old Chennai.Here is a so called lifestyle store called the Amethyst.Its usually full of the hip and happening and is a complete rip off.Not the kind of place I frequent but one is expected to sit there for hours sending mail or reading and generally meeting friends.Nice ambiance,old house et all but for the staff and the owner(i believe it all stems from the top).
Today i sat there reading my paper waiting to get...first of all a menu card.It took around 30 minutes for someone to condescend to give me one.Then no amount of attracting the attention of the waiter would help.The place you see was filled with white skins.Around 90% of the people there were not Indian.Were the waiters trained to attend only to the white skins.There they were at the beck and call of all them foreigners and not one of them bothered to come over to take the order.Am I surprised?....not really,on many occasions when I have been forced to meet someone at that place I have seen this happening.We talk of racial discrimination abroad but its alive and kicking right here in Madras and it makes me feel sick.If we cant appreciate what we have in our own country then we have no business complaining about being discriminated against.Places like these run by people who are still slaves to the white man will continue to treat the ones at home with scant respect.Unfortunately these places also hog the media limelight despite the rip off prices,the highly overrated ambiance and the slack service or just the lack of it.I believe its criminal on my part to even be seen there so the next time someone suggests the place guess I will have to decline.
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
My diary
Just realised that its over a year since I started this blog.Why did I?.Well at that point I was bored out of my skull and couldn't stick to anything for too long.This was yet another experiment but its become part of me.Its a great feeling to write,just about anything.It clears my mind and it brings back things long forgotten and a lot of my friends and family read but like me they are far too lazy to leave comments so I guess I should be happy just being me.
I started my first diary when I was six.My elder sister gave me a readers digest pocket diary(she thought a six year old wont have much to write home about)and I was so trilled that it went on till I was around twelve.I reread my six year old writing when I was around thirteen and was shocked at how my life revolved around the number of times I had had to go to the loo,or the number of times I ate with a faithful detail of the menu.Looks like I had this great weakness for Amul butter and hot rice.
My uncle in Kerala chanced on the diary once and was suitably impressed with my detailed account of my trips to the loo.You see a lot of it was written while on holiday in Kerala(my wise sister thought that was the best way to keep me out of her hair).The loo was always a good mile walk from the main house.It required climbing down many a mud step to reach the place which smelt of fresh earth,mulberries and centipedes.My sisters would have to fetch water from the well and bring it along.I wasn't allowed to draw water as the weight of the bucket and I were around the same and by some convoluted Kerala physics,that meant that there was every chance of my falling into the well so best avoided.Because the loo was so far away and I had this huge fear that I wouldn't be able to control myself,I would run very often(more than necessary)just to be safe.My biggest fears were the nights.My sisters refused to leave the house at night and poor me was forced to use the vegetable patch.That was traumatic as I was convinced that all the goblins were out to get me(my sister read tons of fairy tales to me everyday and it fuelled an already active imagination)Besides which there was a pig at home who for some strange reason has a fascination for a bare bottom(especially if it belonged to a child).I think I had plenty to write home about even if it was only about my loo trips.Till date most of what I remember of that house is its loo.
I started my first diary when I was six.My elder sister gave me a readers digest pocket diary(she thought a six year old wont have much to write home about)and I was so trilled that it went on till I was around twelve.I reread my six year old writing when I was around thirteen and was shocked at how my life revolved around the number of times I had had to go to the loo,or the number of times I ate with a faithful detail of the menu.Looks like I had this great weakness for Amul butter and hot rice.
My uncle in Kerala chanced on the diary once and was suitably impressed with my detailed account of my trips to the loo.You see a lot of it was written while on holiday in Kerala(my wise sister thought that was the best way to keep me out of her hair).The loo was always a good mile walk from the main house.It required climbing down many a mud step to reach the place which smelt of fresh earth,mulberries and centipedes.My sisters would have to fetch water from the well and bring it along.I wasn't allowed to draw water as the weight of the bucket and I were around the same and by some convoluted Kerala physics,that meant that there was every chance of my falling into the well so best avoided.Because the loo was so far away and I had this huge fear that I wouldn't be able to control myself,I would run very often(more than necessary)just to be safe.My biggest fears were the nights.My sisters refused to leave the house at night and poor me was forced to use the vegetable patch.That was traumatic as I was convinced that all the goblins were out to get me(my sister read tons of fairy tales to me everyday and it fuelled an already active imagination)Besides which there was a pig at home who for some strange reason has a fascination for a bare bottom(especially if it belonged to a child).I think I had plenty to write home about even if it was only about my loo trips.Till date most of what I remember of that house is its loo.
Tuesday, January 08, 2008
Chemistry and bike rides
Starting to write about old friends,set off a chain,old friends called recalling old memories so I decided that we were an interesting bunch and some more stories should follow.
Over the years we added on to our gang,but the core group remained the same.For around six years the old gang met almost every evening.Since the chemistry was being designed by Chubby and Intensity,there was a lot of plotting and planning going on which if one was not in the know,could slip past.
It happened pretty suddenly one evening.There I was walking to the bus stop(we didn't have our own transport then) and the two of them walk up to me casually and ask for some help in choosing clothes.The Raymond shop being close by didn't give me a clue so I graciously agreed to help.The general idea was to choose something for intensity as he couldn't make up his mind(i figured out later that he was very good and making up his mind and has no issues on clarity of thinking).I went through a lot of stuff and finally decided on something by which time it was well after eight in the night.Of course Chubby then decided that it was too late for nice girls to be going home alone so he casually mentioned that Intensity lived near my place and could he drop me home(chubby was my friend at that time and he was the common link so took it upon himself to be spokesperson)Intensity jumped at it but not before putting forth his own idea of a bite before we took off,so we landed up eating something at which point he tells"you have a lovely voice.(I nearly chocked on my milkshake,since when did I have a nice voice...and now he complains that its a squeak)Well after that there was no point in refusing though I had my doubts then if all was as innocent as I thought it was.I never realised until many years later that that was what hitting on was in those days.Poor me on a mites salary was more than happy to get a ride and a free meal and he didn't seem like a bad sort(or I thought I could deal with him).Well he drove like a bat out of hell (think he was showing off,and does so even now)and landed me home safe and sound,hung around at the gate to do small talk(and I was wondering when he would just go home).
The next day was just a casual "would you like a lift home" and then it kind of became a regular thing.I believe the first part of their plan had worked beautifully.
Over the years we added on to our gang,but the core group remained the same.For around six years the old gang met almost every evening.Since the chemistry was being designed by Chubby and Intensity,there was a lot of plotting and planning going on which if one was not in the know,could slip past.
It happened pretty suddenly one evening.There I was walking to the bus stop(we didn't have our own transport then) and the two of them walk up to me casually and ask for some help in choosing clothes.The Raymond shop being close by didn't give me a clue so I graciously agreed to help.The general idea was to choose something for intensity as he couldn't make up his mind(i figured out later that he was very good and making up his mind and has no issues on clarity of thinking).I went through a lot of stuff and finally decided on something by which time it was well after eight in the night.Of course Chubby then decided that it was too late for nice girls to be going home alone so he casually mentioned that Intensity lived near my place and could he drop me home(chubby was my friend at that time and he was the common link so took it upon himself to be spokesperson)Intensity jumped at it but not before putting forth his own idea of a bite before we took off,so we landed up eating something at which point he tells"you have a lovely voice.(I nearly chocked on my milkshake,since when did I have a nice voice...and now he complains that its a squeak)Well after that there was no point in refusing though I had my doubts then if all was as innocent as I thought it was.I never realised until many years later that that was what hitting on was in those days.Poor me on a mites salary was more than happy to get a ride and a free meal and he didn't seem like a bad sort(or I thought I could deal with him).Well he drove like a bat out of hell (think he was showing off,and does so even now)and landed me home safe and sound,hung around at the gate to do small talk(and I was wondering when he would just go home).
The next day was just a casual "would you like a lift home" and then it kind of became a regular thing.I believe the first part of their plan had worked beautifully.
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