stories and things

Dealing with his Mother

2012-01-24T01:25:00.001-08:00

Well over a year now I have been giving advice on and off to friends on how to handle mothers in law.Now one might wonder whats so unique about this particular relationship but if the universal truth be known there are very few good relationships between mothers in law and daughters in law,more so if one is in an Indian family.Reasons are many and the degrees of hostility or friendliness as the case may be can vary depending a lot on the family itself.

In our culture,boys are important,so much so that a son kind of makes a woman feel complete (this seems to be changing very slowly over the years).Mothers tend to hold on to their sons,take care of their every whim and most men are tied to their mothers apron strings.Strangely its not so much the sons problem as his wife's when a marriage takes place.Most girls brought up in our society (there are a lot of exceptions to the rule and i know of some very good relationships also) believe that its their role to "adjust".This is considered a good reflection on their own parents parenting skills as also on the character of the girls themselves.Keeping with this belief its not strange to see girls integrate well into families (very positive thing i must admit) and go the whole nine yards to make herself well loved by one and all.The trouble really is with expectations.If the girl expects her mother in law to love her or accept her a hundred percent then one is asking for trouble.I don't quiet know the psychology of it but suspect it has something to do with letting go.Most mothers don't want to let go of their sons and believe its their birthright to control every aspect of his life well after a wife comes along.The wife in question then believes that the onus is on the husband to make for smooth passage where his mother and wife are concerned.I believe this is the first mistake.Like i tell my friends,its foolhardy to interfere in a mother son relationship.Mothers in law are best dealt with on a one on one basis with out the son being part of the equation.Lets face it the man in the middle will never win,he either ends up hurting the mother or the wife or both.Now coming to the wife,once again my rule of thumb is that one must not expect the mother in law to either love you are accept you a hundred percent.Accept this fact of life and one is bound to end up with a happy relationship.If the wife chooses to live with her in laws then she must accept that it will be their rules at all times,if she decides to live independently with the husband then the rules of the house are her rules and these must be stated or implied clearly.To feel bitter at the slightest perceived insult is to bring trouble on ones self.As my mother very wisely put it to me one day( after she made a scathing attack on the condition of my kitchen and house in general) we daughters in law tend to take our mothers in law too seriously,we will take the most nasty comments from our mothers and shrug it off as a bad day but god forbid the mother in law says the same thing (even if there is truth in it).We will get on the high horse,rave to our husbands about what we think of his mother and in the end end up feeling betrayed because he didn't take our side....Honestly is it all worth it.Not really.I do believe that the best relationships are when you accept that however perfect you may be ,you will never be the daughter of the house,nor will you mother in law be as comfortable with you as she will be with her own daughters.Remember you will always be the woman who took her son away so learn to share him without compromising your position as his wife.Remember that if you respect yourself others will respect you and last but not least,every relationship is about two people who give and take and as a woman you don't have to be a doormat to win the game.Stand up for yourself and remember in life you may have to loose some battles to win the war.

Pondycherry-weekend getaway

2011-11-11T04:06:00.000-08:00

Its been months since the holiday in Turkey and one wonders why I haven't written a thing thus far.Has everything paled in comparison to turkey or is it just apathy on my part?.A bit of both I should think.So what have I been doing with myself?....A few months after turkey we took a weekend off to Pondycherry.I have been there many times on work,but very few times have I explored the place and never with the husband.Its always been a get away with a girlfriend where we gossip,drink good wine,eat good food,lounge on the beach and shop.This time around I did take the husband on a conducted tour....I am no expert on the place but considering I know far more than the husband on this topic,I play guide.We book ourselves into the guesthouse Dumas.A quaint Franco-Indian place run by a local woman with french roots.They speak in rapid fire french,Tamil and stilted English but its a lovely place with five rooms with high ceilings,high beds that one has to climb onto (reminds me of the princess and the pea though there is only one mattress on this bed).The bathrooms are old fashioned in stone and tiles and light seeps through old fashioned windows.Outside the garden is full of plants and a little place for a smoke and a good chat does it all for this place.There are even a few books for people like me.Situated just behind the promenade,its close enough to the sea and to eating places near by.We cross the road to the Alliance Francaise to have green tea on the lawns and listed to the waves pounding the rocks behind us.The ebb and flow of the waves is soothing for an evening spent in the lazy atmosphere of Pondycherry.For dinner we hop to the neighbours house (its really a cafe) and settle down to some local food,good chicken in cream sauce and a good glass of wine and of course some calamari.As darkness falls we end our day walking along the shore and enjoying the peace and quiet of a quaint french town in the south of India.

The next day sees us off to lunch at a small place run by Max.I think he may be french but has lived here long enough to be India,though he does grumble like a french man and has charm to match.Unfortunately the town sleeps from 1 to around 4 in the afternoon so one cant do much except lie down on a cool bed and read or sleep.Dinner is at yet another lovely garden cafe .We do explore Auroville the international town in the heart of pondycherry.Its not easy to find too many Indians here despite it being India....The french have created a grand place complete with shopping centre and meditation dome where one is expected to maintain absolute silence and get in touch with ones inner self.The husband refused to meditate so we skip that part of it but end up with what is called a healthy plate for lunch,salads rice,chicken ,soup and fruit...looks lovely and tastes simple and healthy....after a few beers we are ready to head back home (a beautiful drive along the shore ) and back to our routines.....its not some exotic location but sometimes its nice to get away and spend time with each other outside of the home....

Pamakkula-19/3/2011

2011-03-28T02:29:00.000-07:00

They call it the cotton mountain,a place for hot springs and thermal waters.The waterways flowing down from the mountains left large deposits of calcium in its wake hence the ground is covered in white deposits which from afar can be mistaken for show but on closer examination is a kind of hardened stone which is mushy in some places where the waters have flown recently.

We climb the hills which look deserted and suddenly we are hit by this vast expanse of white.Today the waters are regulated and most of the place we walk by are dry though we can hear the gurgling of water somewhere.As we continue our walk we come to where the waters have formed large pools,they look like a long line of swimming pools and we are told that its safe to swim though none of us is prepared.Stepping into the waters and one is surprised at how warm it is.Very relaxing and as I move from one pool to the other it gets deeper and deeper.How unfortunate that i am not in swimming mode.The lack of changing rooms is also a factor but the waters are a powder blue more so because the base of the pool is white.It is an awe inspiring sight to see some much natural formations,and to see what water can do to the landscape.After an hour or so we drive back to kusadasi past little villages with their quaint bottles resting on the roofs to indicate unmarried girls living there.We stop to drop off some of our fellow travellers and by now we are all exchanging notes on our lives,culture etc.Its strange how some 5 to 6 hours spent in the company of strangers can have one saying and disclosing so much of oneself.

Ephesus-18/3/2011

2011-03-28T02:19:00.000-07:00

An ancient city once thriving but later buried this sight has since been excavated and today it is a mass of ruins some painstakingly restored.It gives one an insight to how people lived in those days.Ancient air conditioning systems which allowed water to flow through building keeping them cool in summer,large libraries that spoke of learning and culture,schools for the children,the Agora or shopping centre for the woman of the day all covered in marble.A large theater which is restored was a place for plays and other events to be held and can seat such a large number and all in the open.This is also a place of one of the ancient churches mentioned in the book of revelation.Not being so clued on to the bible I miss some of its significance,except to say that St Paul is said to have been here as have John the evangelist who also brought Mary the mother of Jesus to live here.There is a monument to him in this town as also the house of the virgin Mary which is today a chapel.Its a perfect place to relive the past.Its also very lush and as we drive there there is an abundance of vegetables and fruits being grown despite it being late winter.The place is right in the middle of the valley and the ruins stand testimony to a by gone era.There is also a brothel that flourished in the day which was placed opposite the library and was connected to it via an underground passage.

Istanbul-Ismir-Kusadesi

2011-03-27T01:18:00.000-07:00

Its my birthday today and for the first time in years I am far away from home,phone calls,text messages and far removed from any computer.Not that I mind the attention but once in a while its best to remove oneself from the everyday environment and contemplate on life that was lived until now to whats to come in the future.I sit outside our hotel and watch Istanbul come to life.People rushing around to office,tourists getting ready for the days tours.I watch the skill of the drivers who manage to drive large vehicles through narrow streets and yet on bump into anyone or damage things.

At 10am our guide picks us up for the 25km drive to the airport.Its once again a road that hugs the sea of Marmara and the morning view is filled with rush hour ferry's,ships at sea and seabirds circling above in search of fish.The sky is blue with a promise of a beautiful day.All to soon we are at the airport and its time to say goodbye to Genghis.He is a nice chap and bids us goodbye with much warmth.

Inside with two hours to kill I wander around to the shops,some shops with perfumes and sunglasses and a jewellery store.Once again emeralds and turquoise twinkle up at me.Once again I am drawn to the beautiful designs and settings.Once again the price is as usual way beyond my reach.The mood drops,the husband tries in vain to interest me in some sunglasses but I am in no mood to look at prices.I decided to watch the world go by and wait for the flight to be announced.Our domestic flight takes us to Ismir one of the three largest cities in Turkey.After soaking in the ariel view of Istanbul we settle for air line food which surprisingly is pretty good.An hour later we are met at the airport by a local and taken on a one hour drive to the resort town of Kusadesi.The drive is uneventful to start with.Miles and miles of olive fields but all the olives have been harvested.I have never been up close and personal with an olive tree and ask if I can get a closer view.The driver stops and helps me into one of the fields and allows me to break an olive branch.Well symbolic or not peace returns and as the drive progresses,the Aegean sea comes into view.From the top of the road the land falls into the sea.No big waves crash here,there is a gently lapping of water against the shore.Its deceptive but deep and dangerous.We stop for a photo and I sit for a few minutes.There is something soothing about the sea.Its depth,the colour and the sheer beauty of the surrounding .There is not a soul in sight.Blue sky,deep waters ,olive trees and a gently breeze.I could sit for hours but we move on.Arrive at the town with is quaint and typical resort town,Most of the homes are occupied in summer so the place is rather deserted.We check in and decide to explore.I am in no mood for adventures but we go nevertheless and find our selves in the town,stop for a tea,wander the coast and watch people fishing in little pockets.Its a nice life.Taxi drive takes us back and as its a birthday we decide to celebrate with local Raki....not a bad ending to a day spent most of the time in transit.

Shopping-Istanbul

2011-03-26T09:11:00.000-07:00

This is one activity i am terrible at.I love most things and cant afford most things so its an exercise in futility really but we go to the ministry of culture of some such to be given a demo on carpets,Turkish carpets.They are very good,by the time two cups of apple tea have been drunk I am in love with carpets and want one.The husband decided to humor me until he realises that at even the lowest possible rate we cant afford a carpet the size of a mat even.So we walk out disappointed,me unhappy at being so poor as to not afford a carpet and the husband happy to have escaped with his money intact.We walk over to the grand bazaar with 20 minutes in hand and not in happy moods,so while i want to get lost in the many enticing alleys he wants to make sure we don't get lost.....in the end we end up with a Turkish tea set which i who never bargain (did so because I was so mad at being poor) got at a 50% discount (see what positive things can happen when one is angry) and got mistaken for being American (got me most insulted but i changed my mind later having met some very nice Americans on the way) and i swear I will be back in black heels and not tennis shoes (never mind how impractical it will be).By the time we get to lunch I am back to being happy,all that food gets me going.I eat everything on my plate,the rest of them play with their food,I suspect the south Africans don't like it,the Canadian single mom is watching her figure,her son cant stand it and as for the rest of them they are just indifferent.Well I need my food and tuck in happily.My troubles are not over though.Our next stop is Topkapi palace.As we enter we meet a fortune seller who at 5 lira will get his rooster and three rabbits to tell you what life has to offer.I think I shall settle for the parrots in India on a similar mission so we skip it and climb a steep walkway to a vast garden.As usual the trees are all planted symmetrically.The husband has narrated a story of some Hollywood movie where a diamond is stolen from this very place and he is most excited to get there.This place houses the diamond that some poor farmer( not knowing its worth) gave away in exchange for three spoons and hence called the spoon diamond.Now I am not very taken in by a diamond (have never figured what is so enticing about this stone) but had to change my mind rather fast.Here was a large stone that twinkled and shone and sent out sparks.It was simply too beautiful not to be moved.The rest of the jewellery was also on similar lines.Simple designs but set so well that the beauty of the stone was there in all its splendor.This is how jewellery should be made.We see the great sword of the palace and then move on the the library.Now her is a room to die for.Overlooking the waters,the walls are lined with books and the floor with long cushions that one can lounge on and read.Plenty of natural light.I promise myself a miniature library of this kind one day.We move to a private mosque where there are hairs from the beard of the prophet Mohammad (at the best of times my eyesight fails me,this couldn't even be seen under a microscope ) and a mould of his footprint.We finish our tour and head back home.I feel a bit sad at not being able to indulge my love of the Turkish carpet or the exquisite jewellery but tell myself that I should be happy that the opportunity to see places is mine.We end the day eating baklava and drinking tea and chatting with the owner of the small sweet shop who was educated in London and we exchange notes over tea.Out for dinner and I am off in high heels only to find that all of Istanbul has conspired against me and is in flats.It time for a stiff drink and much to the displeasure of the husband(he is worried that i will get drunk on strange drinks) I ask for a raki (strong aniseed drink the local favourite) and down it happily,the mood is back.In India this is the drink of the truly desperate but what the hell,today was a desperate day of no shopping so after dinner we bid goodbye to Istanbul a city that both of us have fallen in love with.Its modern and ancient at the same time,stylish and conservative and its lovely people make it a great destination.I don't have the heart to leave but leave we must.

Istanbul 16.3.20121

2011-03-26T03:41:00.000-07:00

Living in the new city means that we need to drive past the queen mothers mosque ,past the galatta bridge with in many avid anglers on either side,fishing in the waters of the Golden horn and then into the old city.We are told that each of the mosques can be distinguished by the number of minarets.A single one means that it is a local mosque,the blue mosque is an imperial mosque and that's where we are headed today.It large to begin with from the outside with typical Islamic architecture and beautifully laid out gardens (always symmetrical,this being a grand obsession).Inside we are made to take off our shoes and show into the main prayer hall.The entire floor is covered with a patterned red carpet which actually has designated places for people to stand in.Takes in many people and yes you have guessed it keep the symmetry,not one soul will be out of place standing the way they are supposed to.The ceiling is high and its cold inside.A hush descends on the groups as the atmosphere here is peaceful.The walls are lined with blue tiles and the designs on the walls and the central dome are all of flora and intricately worked.Long ropes hold up millions of lights and natural sunlight streams in thought the many windows all around.The pulpit from where the Friday sermon is preached is a long marble staircase that leads up to a pulpit covered in lattice work.From here the imam of the day can deliver his message.There are places all around the sides for the woman to pray.They tell us that at 12 noon the many mosques around Istanbul will call for prayer and its music to ones ears.My first time in a mosque and i am glad its here .One is almost tempted to go down on ones knees and offer prayers such is the calmness and serenity of the place.Behind the mosque is an ancient Hippodrome but nothing much is left of it.Here also is the entrance to the underground canal system that one sees in the movies but we skip that due to lack of time.Right across the mosque on the other side is the Hagia sophia.This one time christian church,was converted into a mosque and is now a museum.Strangely it looks like a mosque with its minarets and its many domes.Inside blue tiles like the mosque and an almost identical pulpit.Here there are pictures of the 12 apostles and of Mary and Jesus but the 12 apostles could very well be the prophet Mohammed's companions.The guide tells us that while it was a church the pulpit faced east to Jerusalem and when it became a mosque it was shifted south east to face mecca.large urns face the entrance where people could wash themselves before prayers.The husband is recalling the James bond movie and is busy pointing out where their meeting places were.Such different experiences for the same place.

Istanbul 15/3/2011

2011-03-26T03:20:00.000-07:00

The summer palace of the ottomans is pretty modest.Twenty four rooms doesn't seem like a lot.The insides are understated and elegant.The carpets are beautifully done in strong colours but not garish,the chandeliers are beautiful and are coloured to match each room.Blue,green and ruby red they send out sparks as the afternoon sun brushes them as the curtains sway.The play of colours is a sight to behold.Each of them made with crystal from Bulgaria and some from china.The carpets are laid out on rush mats all made in turkey and some from India and china (came as gifts).There are paintings in each of the rooms and the sultan being a strong naval man he has a naval room with pictures of naval ships,another room that has furniture whose frames represent naval knots.Besides being a naval man he was also a wrestler and an artist hence the emphasis on symmetry (all door and windows are place opposite each other as is the furniture the lights etc,nothing is out of place or at odds).Legend has it that the sultan eat a kid lamb a day that was the kind of strength the man had.We move over to the ladies side of the palace starting with the rooms of the queen mother.The room is at the entrance of the ladies quarters and gave her a fine view of the happenings there.Having 4 legitimate wives,7 favourite woman and some 200 concubines he needed to know what was going on and his mother was probably the eyes and ears of the palace.The way to become powerful was to produce a son for the sultan and there was much competition amongst the woman.All the rooms in the ladies quarters open onto wide marble balconies that face the Bosporus and the breeze that comes in through the windows could well take away the heat of summer.The high ceiling made sure that there was enough natural cooling so no modern day air conditioning was required.Many girls were given to the sultan at ages as young as eight and nine and there was a school in the ladies section to teach these children the fine points of life from painting,music,cooking,etiquette and maths.This went on till they were old enough to join the harem.The wide lawns and trees around the palace makes for long evening walks and the back gate opens on the the Bosporus and has a long walkway which leads back to the palace.A lazy walk along the waters is enough to sooth the most troubled soul.

Istanbul-15/3/2011

2011-03-25T05:13:00.000-07:00

Its 6.30am and the air is crisp and cold,while the husband sleeps I decide to open a window and take in the early morning sights.The baker arrives to deliver bread.In all shapes and sizes it looks so tempting.The baker himself is a good advertisment for his produce.Large and heavy he looks like Al karim Bey (of James Bond fame)

Breakfast is a meal fit for kings.Three tables loaded with food,olives of different sizes and colours (green and black) cheese-with differnt spices added,meats chicken and beef,lovely brown eggs,breads in varieties that I can recognise at all along with plain toast,tahini (seseme seed paste) and plenty of jam (varieties).Oranges that are so sweet and cucumbers and tomatoes.It all reeks of healthy food and we tuck in all ready to face the day.

Our first stop is the Egyptian spice bazzar.It reminds me of Moor Market of the old Madras or of the Lal bazaar in Ahmendabad.Nothing very exciting here if one is from India.Having been one of the countries on the original spice route the spices here are most of what one gets back home,except for the sumac (i dont care too much for its taste ).The loofas are interesting as they are sponges from the sea of marmara and are uses in Turkish baths.We decide to wander behind the market and here we encounter the rest of the place.Early morning catch of the day has fishes of varied sizes and shapes not one variety do I recognise,lots of tripe,pigs trotters and cheese.There are cats all over turkey and well fed ones at that,.Every fish shop has a regular cat and not a single dog in sight.The shops selling pots and pans and household items are a plenty but we dont stop.This is a local market.The garden section is what gets me.Tulips,lavender,orange plants,cactus and plenty more,soil and manure for sale.I cant get away,I need it all.It take the sensible husband to drag me away from there for a much needed tea.Then I fall in love with a little black kitten who is ready to play and is jumping all over me.Most adorable but once again the hassled husband has the sense to pull me away before I make some harebrained offer to adopt the kitten.Its warm and sunny as we make out way to the ferry station to take a tour down the Bosporus and see the strait that separates Asia minor and Europe.We are told that the European side is the place for commerce and industry and the Asian side for residence.Every morning hundreds of thousands of people make their way across to Europe.We get on the boat and start to sail down the choppy blue waters.Within minutes the cold winds start blowing and despite the sun,its suddenly cool.Very soon most of the tourists have found warmer parts of the boat.I decide to brave it out in the open.After all this is the kind of weather I have longed for.Two suspension bridges connect the two continents by land and its so high its scary.Large home with private swimming pools dot the Bosporus on the Asian side and when we hear the price we all but faint.Obviously a lot of rich people live here.Beautiful wooden house are also there but preserved by the government.Lunch is in the old city and we are greeted with a salad of beetroots,carrots,corn and green vegetables.We eat heartily unlike the rest of our group who don't touch the stuff.Then the soup arrives and its lentil soup (in Indian terms plain dhal with a bit of salt and spice).The husband is in seventh heaven as he sees his beloved dhal arrive.I,a die hard dhal hater decide that I have no choice and as starving is not an option I drink up and realise that its not bad at all.The main course arrives with rice and some boiled chicken which looks so unappetising that I am tempted to try the vegetarian option which come with grilled eggplant and zucchini as looks so much better,but I decide to spice it all up and get the waiter to get me some Turkish salsa and before I know it the chicken has been transformed.The rest of the table also adapt to the new taste and soon the meal is over.Our next stop is the highest point in Istanbul and can be reached by the suspension bridge that was constructed with the help of french,German and Turkish engineers.It hangs from the sky held together by large ropes of steel and at that height it doesn't even sway.Its truly amazing.The place offers some good photo opportunities and great views of the city but nothing else besides.We then move on the the summer palace of the sultans.

Istanbul-14/3/2011

2011-03-25T04:52:00.000-07:00

We enter the airport and find that Turkey is almost as stylish as Europe.Everone is dressed in long black coats,knee length boots with high heels and designer sunglasses.Coats are in such variety that I cant imagine so much style could be possible.I am a bit put off by the way I look but consider this,I am a tourist and its highly unlikely that I will very merge into the rest of them.As we step out we are met by our guide called Genghis,young Turk,handsome and with a charming manner he has us eating out of his hands in no time.Our driver is called tokut (pronounced too good) and they teach us our first Turkish phrase.How to say thank you,he tells us we need to say "tea,shukre and a dream" all in rapid speed and we have learnt to say thank you.The husband practises for the rest of the trip to the hotel while I soak in the sights.Genghis is by now is flirting mode and decides to use me for that purpose,he claims he is the original Turkish delight and is suitably impressed when I giggle.I am not complaining .Its the first time I have seen this many handsome men all at one shot so looks like this is going to be a soothing trip for the eyes.

Our hotel is bang in the centre of the commercial district in the European side and Taksim square is a close call.We wander around find a place close by to drink our tea in,then check out the food.having been told that the kebab is the best I make my way to the most crowded place and order a doner kebab put together in pita bread and loads of fresh veggies.Wow,now that was something good,not having enough I head out to the next place,order some great looking salad,aubergines with mince meat soaking in olive oil which is a killer dish.Not spicy as I know spice but delicately flavoured and smooth,served with pilaf its a great meal to start the holiday with.The husband for once cant complain about the food as its loaded with vegetables all of which he recognises and as a side dish there are pickled green chillies,no cause for complaint.A good refreshing nap later we are ready to check out the evenings in Istanbul.Perfect weather to dress us and that sees me wrapped up in good black clothes and high heels and I almost feel a part of the landscape.Never mind a bit of protests from the feet,no pain no gain is what I say.Dinner us yet another adventure,we walk down the street full of people rushing around looking busy,thankfully this is not a typical touristy place so one can see the locals as they are and check out what they do in the evenings.It looks like the favourite pass time is to drink tea,smoke hookahs and play back gammon.The only drink that seem to be consumed are the local Raki (a drink flavoured with aniseed and a faint smell of some other spice) and beer.Salad,buttermilk,chicken and mushroom topped with cheese and plenty of olive oil to drip the bread in and lots of rice,this is almost feeling like home.Its been a long day and we sink into comfortable beds and soft pillows and call it a day.Our first day in Istanbul has been great

14/3/2011-Midair

2011-03-25T03:28:00.000-07:00

On board Turkish airlines,at 5.30 am and as India awakes yours truly is being forced into sleep by efficient air hostesses who down the window blinds,switch off the light and try to make us sleep.The husband as usual doesn't need much encouragement and is off like lights.I am on high alert as usual.Discover that the airline has a great selection of music from the 60s and 70s so spend time listening to music,taking loo breaks and drinking tea (discover early that the Turks are as addicted to tea as I am and that says a lot).

Morning dawns as we near Istanbul and as I look out the mountains come into view,deep blue and half covered in snow.For someone who has never seen snow this takes my breath away.It looks like blueberry ice cream served with whipped cream,one is tempted to scoop it up.as we loose height the sea comes into view,magnificent blue flecked with white and all around there are boats and ships.Smooth touchdown in Istanbul.My face falls as I see the sun shining outside but I quickly recover my spirits,the temperature outside is 10 degrees as as we disembark I feel the whiff of cool air and I pinch myself not quiet sure if I have made the journey across the continents

Mumbai-13/3/2011

2011-03-25T03:16:00.000-07:00

6pm on a flight to Bombay,our snacks on the airplane are best forgotten,heavy potato cakes and cottage cheese that has seen better day,not a recipe for a good stomach on a long haul trip but hungry that I am I do eat it.Unfortunately the lady behind us was sick,threw up over the next passenger and the smell of sick was so overpowering I had to keep the contents of my stomach still by a sheer act of will.The aircraft is smothered with freshener and doesn't help.Well we make it to Bombay safe(this is after I nearly missed the flight being too engrossed in a pair of sunglasses by Gucci at the airport shop).Long taxi trip with an unhappy taxi driver sees is land up in a friends house on a short break in transit.

3.15am-Bombay-Having suffered a running stomach for more than four hours and chatting late into the night,its nearing my normal bed time of 1.30 am but there is no rest for the wicked.Leave for the airport half asleep and tottering on high heels (call it stupidity or plain vanity,I hate the thought of arriving anywhere in Europe in any thing other than a nice paid of black high heels) and go through the formalities,which are not as painful as expected except for the heat that is getting to me.The husband insists its cold but I beg to differ.Find a lone chair in the lounge and watch Europeans and Turks done many layers of clothes,whats with me? I am the only one in one layer and feeling hot...By now I am exhausted ,the stomach is empty that's to the runs,I am hungry and miserable and promise myself that I shall ask forgiveness for such unhappy thought in the first mosque or church I come across.In the meanwhile I long for the comfort of my bed.

Holidays

2011-03-25T03:10:00.001-07:00

This is the only time I miss the laptop,when I am travelling in a strange place and want to note down everything and all the experiences,so i do it the old fashioned way,carry a note book and pen and write a diary of events every evening.Its a bother really but considering how shallow my memories are this is the best way...I went to Turkey for ten days and has a great time,it was my first experience of winter (it was almost at its end) and for me the cold was exhilarating and so beautiful.I met people from so many countries,learnt so much from the interactions and found that like minded people live all over the world.We found commonalities in thinking,in values and in our experiences despite the countries being so far apart culturally.To me that's what defines travel,its the enriching experience of seeing places and people and though conducted tour cant give one the essence of every country it does make for some unique experiences all the same.

This is why my greatest ambition is to travel and wander the world as much as I can.I have been so inspired by some people,amused by others that all of them must form a part of one of the posts that are to come.....written up in this blog after coming home

Aunty Patty and Christmas

2011-02-27T04:58:00.000-08:00

It was Christmas eve and a party was on in full swing next door,it was well after midnight but none of us could sleep thanks to the fun next door,the music was at full volume and the merry making was going on well after food and many a drink later.

I watched the fun from our bedroom window,my mother didn't approve of parties so I wasn't allowed to attend despite some rather nice looking boys asking me over.I was 13 and still under my parents roof so the rules were rules.My father was also forbidden to attend and was sulking in some corner of the house.My mother after having enforced the rules,managed to drop off to sleep.Sometime after midnight she woke up sweating (unusual for a December night in madras) then started to act strangely.She called out to me insisting she was dying and looking terrified at what might happen to me once she was gone.I was terrified as I had never seen her like this,then her body went cold and she was beginning to look like death.Call it survival or just instinct but I ran over next door(jumped the compound fence actually ) and told the party next door that my mother was dying.My father never at his best in a crisis just wrung his hands and looked on helplessly.In no time at all a very efficient aunt from the party arrived.She came armed with Christmas cake and brandy (very strange things to bring to someones house when she thought there may be someone dying,but she obviously knew what she was about).In no time at all she had put my father to work rubbing brandy into my mothers cold body while she managed to stuff some cake down her mouth.In a matter of minutes the mother was back to normal.I was convinced that Patty (that was her name) was either god or an angel or just a plain miracle worker who had saved me from a life in the workhouse.She then turned to me and explained that my mother being diabetic ,had just had a nasty bout of hypoglycemia or low sugar and all i needed to do in another emergency was to give her a quick sugar boost.I learnt to live with diabetes from that time on but I will never forget her for what she did.For years afterwards the memory of that Christmas party will stay etched in my mind.Today many years later that house has become apartments and I live in one of them.Every Christmas we continue to have a big party just like they did and I always remember her with thanks in my heart.

Babysitter me

2011-01-07T03:25:00.000-08:00

At the best of times i am a bad babysitter,babies not being one of my favourite beings so when my niece asked me if i would babysit her kids for an afternoon i refused point blank but when she asked me again in the evening and promised me that her kids would sleep while she was out watching a movie I didn't think it was a big deal so agreed.After all the parents seemed very confident and her kids are well brought up so I didn't think i had cause to worry.Of course I agreed only after I made sure she would put them to sleep before leaving so all settled I saw them off and went off to bed.Having had a long day i was asleep in no time at all.The husband has also gone off for the movie with the gang so there was just me and the two kids fast asleep no problem at all.They had even given me the script in the unlikely event that the children woke up so everything seemed fine.I was in dreamland soon enough and was having this rather vivid dream when I heard crying in the far recesses of my brain.Something stirred,some vague memory of kids in the house and before i knew it I was out of bed and out of the room.Imagine my horror at seeing two kids standing outside my room bawling their heads off asking for their mother.In my half sleepy state I tried hard to think straight,remember the script i told myself.Finally I remembered they were to be offered water.I dashed off to do that got them to drink some water and then told them their parents would be back in a minute.I was told to say that as the kids probably don't know how long a minute is and I am guessing this is one of those undefinable minutes that can stretch to hours.Well the parent knew what they were talking about as the kids bought into it.Then I had the bright idea to getting them under a comforter in my room and the younger kid fell asleep at once.The older one thought it was a good opportunity for a chat with an otherwise uncommunicative aunt.Now being a real clueless baby person I was in panic,now what can one possibly say to a five year old at midnight?.She seemed to have had it all worked out.She started by asking me if the husband has gone along with her parents,she figured he was the last person to abandon someone as clueless as me which really meant that her parents would come back eventually.At this point i thought a phone message to the parents was in order.Hadn't realised that the child in question is a good reader and as i struggled to type the message without the aid of my glassed and in darkness,the child was reading over my shoulder and seemed seriously amused at my panic.Honestly there is nothing like a clueless aunt to make children see fun and games dancing before their eyes....and so i sensed glee of some kind in the child.....saved by the doorbell.Never have i been so happy to hear a squeaky gate and the door bell.The parents were back and I had the kids off my hands......funny when i saw them again in the morning they didn't look half as alarming as they did at night....oh dear that is the last time i babysit anyone....

Modern housing and amenities

2011-01-04T05:07:00.000-08:00

We have all gone through the stage of house hunting,we pour over the ads in the papers,check the advertisements,buy into some of all the hype and end up with a flat or house (in most cases a flat if one is living in this part of the world) which may not be the thing of your dreams but is rather close.I did it too and cant say I am unhappy with the choice,but there are things I need changed.

The ads in the papers brag of swimming pools,gyms,schools,utility stores,walkways,gardens and what have you.All sound very inviting especially as most people invest in homes in their 20s and 30s.Which brings me to my point.We live in high rise building with elevators but none of those can accommodate a stretcher or a coffin. I have been at the receiving end of this lack of amenities.Living with old parents does mean that one cannot blind oneself to the possibility of them falling ill and needing to be taken to a hospital in an ambulance on a stretcher,nor can one ignore the face that they will pass on and need to be taken down in a coffin.Shouldn't there be dignity in death.My flat for instance has cars and bikes that take up all of the parking space.There isn't enough space to swing a cat let alone get a stretcher through.I had the misfortune of having to help my mother down with a drip down her arm and in a half conscious state because the stairway was too narrow to accommodate a stretcher.Then when the father passed on the coffin had to be brought down by the narrow stairway and one wondered why he had to be pushed and shoved to get it all down.Recently I went to another funeral,same story,this time the coffin came down from the second floor.What is one expected to do if one lives on the seventh or eleventh floor.Why don't we plan ahead,do builders and investors believe that people will never grow old,will never need an ambulance or die.Why are our high rise buildings so elderly unfriendly.Don't we care or are we too caught up in the mad rush to build higher and provide amenities that are only suited to the young or do we just need to live in denial.I agree that it may be morbid to think of death while still alive but increasingly with old people living alone it is something we need to think about after all the population of this country will also grow old sooner or later.I have spent a large part of my life with old people in cities and it pains me to see that so little thought is given to the basics of people who have given so much and receive so little in return.Perhaps I should insist on these amenities in the future but will I be a lone voice?

The year that was

2011-01-01T00:30:00.000-08:00

The year 2011 has arrived and I thought it best to do a review of the year gone by.To say that it was near perfect would be an understatement.I cant remember another year that was so stress free and good and I wouldn't complain if there is a repeat performance.

We started off going to Hyderabad for our annual visit to the in laws (actually my annual visit,the husband visits more often).A week of doing nothing can get a bit tough especially for someone like me who's attention span is really little.But it was one of those relaxing weeks when I discovered new andhra dishes that I made my favourites.It was also a time to catch up on friends in that city.Our next trip was in April when on the spur of the moment we jumped into the car and made off to Bangalore.The unplanned trips are the best.My sister in laws house is so huge that one can get lost in it and since she is super cool and relaxed its a time to walk around the campus,drink endless cups of green tea and chat for hours on end.Of course Bangalore was hot but madras is hotter so that's fine.

Summer was a real hot affair in madras and as luck would have it my elder sister broke her leg (now don't get me wrong,wasn't lucky for her but this was the only way one gets time to spend with her,in normal times she has wheels on her feet) so off we went to ooty and to the cool of the blue mountains.All we did on that trip was to eat all the time and walk a mile everyday to digest what we ate only to start all over again.Of course the fun part was the birthday party her daughter and i russled up and the time when the kids tried outsmarting us but we won in the end.

There is something to be said about travelling,it can become addictive.Once again we were off to Bangalore thanks to a cricket test match that the husband wanted to go for and the fact that a friend from London was in town and it meant quality time with old friends.The trip we women took to srirangapatnam was such fun that we have decided to do it all over again every year in a new place.Wow now that something to look forward to.

Finally one last fling took us to Cochin and the navy ball and all the drama associated with navy week,the fun times with our friends,visiting the markets of kerala looking for fish and foods of my childhood and the warm hot days and the cool waters of the backwaters of kerala

The year was not just about travelling,there was the big relief that right through the year the mother kept good health and seemed far more relaxed,the other highlight was all the stuff I learnt ,from swimming to yoga and regular bouts at the gym were enough to keep me in good health,unfortunately the same cant be said about the husband who is still battling the common cold,and it looks like its going to be a constant in his life.

There were the sad bits when friends lost their parents to old age and some of them old folk happen to be my friends,to watch them suffer and not be able to do anything about it is sad but one hopes that the memories of their lives will stay with us and we have learnt lessons from their lives.

I loved 2010 for all it many highs and I hope that 2011 will keep me forever young in mind and spirit

Sign boards in the vernacular

2010-11-16T00:57:00.000-08:00

There is a rule that all signboards in the city must have the vernacular boards also in addition to the English ones.My guess is that this is for the benefit of people who do not understand English.Now i think that is a good rule but what baffles me is this.I drive through the city and every board has the equivalent in Tamil,except that the English board is rewritten in Tamil,so we have pharmacy and medical shop written in Tamil,or take "established in ......" or "bone and spine clinic" etc.Now of course I know what bone means in English but if the whole point is to make the non English understand what would they understand by writing bone in Tamil,shouldn't it be "elambu"shouldn't medical shop be"maratuva kadai".The whole purpose is lost.What the government means is surely a translation of what the establishment stands for.Of course the name has to be rewritten in the vernacular as it is,but that's excusable,after all it is a name,but for the life of me i cant understand why we don't translate.In a city like madras where the Tamil language has a host of English words that one sooner or later thinks is Tamil,this problem may not be so severe but imagine the villages....when do we learn to follow the rule not as it is but as it is meant to be....

The Buzz words

2010-11-13T00:34:00.000-08:00

Watch any news channel and you can be sure that some words are very dear to some news reporters.Some of them drag their words with much humming and hawing during that time.Me thinks the teleprompter is not working to well.Then there is the use of some words with no relevance.Some of them are as follows.

indeed

absolutely

on the other side

right

eer

these are just some of them,then one has to contend with the various accents,ranging from American Indian to some that are strange to ones ears.News channels are so funny to watch that they are now a great source of entertainment.For real news devoid of all the emotions and the rants of news readers.....i stay with the BBC....

Corruption and the media

2010-11-13T00:20:00.000-08:00

The tv channels are full of corruption stories,there are hysterical news reporters to indignant ones who are judge and jury and have already sentensed many a corrupt person long before the courts can give a verdict.The newspapers are also full of such stories,and as for the general public,well some of us share the angst of the TV channels,others have decided to take a moderate view.

I for one am not sure what my reaction should be.Look at it from a day to day perspective of an ordinary individual like me.I have to pay off the garbage man to remove my garbage despite the fact that I pay taxes and he gets a salary.If I don't he doesn't pick up the garbage despite it being his job to do so....is this a bribe,is this corruption?.Then I need to pay off many people in the course of various chores in my life.But these are minor ones.The same newspapers and TV channels,will happily pay off the government in crores to get their licenses,will they then tell themselves that this is corruption and one should refrain from doing so.I doubt it,as it will mean that someone else got a license and business will suffer.Corporate India has funds ready in huge amounts to pay off the corrupt but they will be the first to claim that corruption has to be taken out of the system.Right now each of the political parties are trying to paint themselves as better than the rest but we all know that its a choice between a rock and a hard place.The BJP will claim to be against corruption but they are the most narrow minded and the most corrupt in more ways than one,the lady in madras sees an opportunity to fight her case in the coming elections,but have we all forgotten that there are ever so many cases against her.The prime minister gives a diplomatic answer and everyone is out to get him.Lets face it the man is clean and just because he refused to answer every silly question put to him by some journalist or the other,doesn't make him corrupt.While the media must report cases,they must also not resort to judgments,after all we do have a corrupt judicial system in place that will try and punish the corrupt people and the tv channels will then go on to a different story and continue paying off who ever has to be paid off while going hammer and tongs on how corrupt the system is.This is a national disease that we have now learnt to live with.It simply boils down to the fact that if we stand up to corruption ,we will have to suffer the consequences.The question rally is....how many of us have the guts to do that....when we are ready to act,we should talk then,until that time,this is just another news story that can get in more trps.....

Its raining cats

2010-11-07T07:08:00.000-08:00

Its raining cats....a cyclone has hit the city and early morning we woke up to gale winds and beautiful rain and cool weather (for those of us in this hot city this is paradise).My heart sang as i looked forward to a new day and endless possibilities but had not contended with the fact that some cats have been in action and the end result is that there were two kittens trying to snuggle up in the bonnet of my car.Terrified that I would cause their death the maid and i tried to get them out and after much shouting on her part they ventured out.I dashed off to do my shopping.Came back to find the most adorable kittens curled up on my doorstep.Now once again after six months my heart aches.I cant stand by and watch them without giving them a cuddle,they are irresistible.Then the poor things have to survive in the cold and i am dying to give them some hot milk.Unfortunately the husband wont have any of it.He doesn't like animals and wants us to not encourage them.Of course when you love animals there are many ways to work around the system.So while the husband took his afternoon nap and the mother kept watch over him,I sneaked out some milk.This happened twice.By the evening my constant updates on the kittens could have melted the hardest of hearts and the husband actually gave me a box to keep them warm.Surprise surprise....there are three and not two,where did the new one come from,who are the parents.I have no idea.Endless mewing and I have to investigate,only to find the staircase has a kitten on every landing.Now I am in a fix.I cant eat my dinner as guilt is eating me,I cant go out and feed them as the husband is lurking around and the mother is not happy at my so called indifference.I curse the cats who left their offspring at my doorstep,I beat myself up about my soft heart (i have tried to become hard hearted but its not easy).Just when it all gets too much my neighbour comes down with a bowl of food and the kittens follow.Thank god I say,the burden is shared.I go back to the first kitten who came my way and how my heart broke when I had to give him up for adoption I cant go through this again ...and i wonder what happened to me,I who have never cared too much for cats,just cant resist the kittens.I swear to keep away from animal planet....the animals are driving me nuts,but who can resist those beautiful eyes,those little bundles of fur....so another day of sneaking food

The festival of lights

2010-11-06T07:19:00.000-07:00

Its called the festival of lights but most often than not its the festival of sound.At the end of a long day of continuous din of firecrackers,my eardrums are under stress as is my throbbing head not least of all my poor eyes that have been dazzled by the glare of a thousand fireworks that light up the night sky on Diwali.But there is something about this festival (that unlike all other Hindu festivals),transcends religious beliefs and becomes a common festival that everyone can indulge in.Its a time when friends will come home with boxes of sweets (diets are out of the window,all the days of keeping away from the sugars are best forgotten) and dried fruits.Its a time for indulgences and shops full of people.Houses lit up with a thousand lights and everyone rushing to fit in last minute shopping.Living in a mixed religion house we celebrate Diwali and Christmas as the only religious festivals that this house has.It a time when all our friends come over and we manage to have those unplanned festivities that are the best.When the day is over its a sad feeling as the only next big thing is Christmas and already we have friends who are leaving out of town and family with their own agendas so will it be just the husband ,the mother and me around the Christmas tree or will it all turn out fine and the house burst at the seams with guests and the kitchen kept busy with aromas and good food.....i guess I shall wait

The men in the pool

2010-11-06T07:02:00.000-07:00

After almost four months since i started swimming I am not about to give up.Its been an uphill task or should I say a watery one,nevertheless I have made great progress in my opinion.I can now do the breadth of the pool from the shallow end and reach the other side without much ado though anyone hearing me heave and pant may just send for an ambulance and no one can blame them for it.Here I am kidding myself that all the yoga and gyming is keeping me fit and full of stamina and one lap in the pool is enough to dispel all such illusions.

But swimming is not the only thing that happens there.It is a known fact that the ratio of men to woman is heavily skewed towards men so one has to be on the look out for compulsive gawkers and the ones who are dying to start a conversation.It will invariable start with some tip on swimming and then move on to ones life history.One man has been looking at us with a great deal of intensity but hadn't plucked up the courage to talk,we knew it was a matter of time before he lost control and sure enough he broke the other day.It always starts with "how long have you been swimming",then moves on to the frequency of swimming,if I inform then that i am not a regular swimmer they need to know why (i still cant understand this great need to figure out what i do with my time).The the next question is to weather i work.I say no with a deadpan expression (no point in telling them that i was a full time working woman till recently,this can only lead to more questions).They then assume I am a housewife (I dont dispel that notion as it gives one a staid image though they do look puzzled,as I don't fit their image of nice housewife).The next question is what really throws the real conservatives.How many children do you have is met with my answer of "no children".This is a huge full stop.Most men in this country don't know how to deal with that,as do most woman (but we are dealing with men at this point).They are not sure what to do after that.Of course i could put them out of their misery by swimming to the other end but considering my privacy has been invaded I have no intentions of making it comfortable for them.Well the next thing one knows,the man is question will swim away and not come my way for a while.....perfect.Ofcourse there are the nosy ones and the one one cant get rid of who carry on the most inane conversation and will not budge until questions have been answered.These I avoid,by now well aware of all types and their swimming schedules,I am out of the pool the moment the creeps get in.Of course there are the nice gentlemen who will watch my progress,give excellent advice and clap or encourage every time i cross a milestone in my swimming progress.These are the ones to keep company with.Should I make the unfortunate mistake of sinking at the deep end these will be the one who will haul me out.In the meanwhile I swim and swim determined to conquer the stamina bit and the deep end.The next time i see water I will want to plunge then my swimming saga will be complete

Swimming woes

2010-09-30T01:58:00.001-07:00

Its been three months since my last swimming class and I have been going to the pool twice a week.I was told by everyone that in two months time I would be swimming the length of the pool and would enjoy it.Well if I were to count the days I may have done two months of swimming but apart from the 4ft end of the pool it doesn't look like I am getting anywhere.'Have enlisted a friend who spends time trying to make me do it all right.I know how to float holding my breadth,I can kick pretty well,I can also move my hands but tell me to do all three together and breath and panic strikes,and before i know it half the water in the pool has been swallowed and i am nowhere close to learning to master this sport.

I am now breathing and kicking and moving my arms,or at least trying to,but the moment i come up for air all i get is water....there are others who manage to move and reach goals,kids who jump in and enjoy it,old people who seem to take to it like ducks and here I am waiting and trying but just not getting it.....when will i ever learn.....be sure there is a party when I break the world record for the longest time taken to learn swimming

Rat attack

2010-09-09T01:57:00.000-07:00

In the many years that I was in the corporate sector,I have met a number of rats in the eternal rat race that work life is in the big bad world of business.Some have outsmarted me and others have been killed in the bargain,so its natural that I had it all figured out.I knew every trick in the book to deal with rats of all kinds.Except that in the rodent world of survival,the odd are against the rat and therefore the innovation and expertise they bring into their range of survival skills is not something that can be taught in any business school.

For the last few months we have been plagued by a family of rats who believe it is their right to invade out kitchen.Much like the toys in children's books who come alive after midnight,the rats in our area come into the kitchen the moment we switch off the lights and go to bed.Now we take pains to hide all foodstuffs,clean the kitchen remove all dirty dishes etc etc but the rat comes in,knocks a few things down,scampers over all the kitchen exploring things and when it gets tired,it climbs up the chimney to the loft and goes to sleep.Our first course of action was to trap them but having failed to gather courage to deal with their killing we had to rat proof the kitchen.It started with closing the windows of the kitchen,then they came in through the dining room so now we spend half an hour ever evening closing all the windows (and in the process dying of heat and humidity in the house).We invested in good wire mesh and sealed all possible entry points to and from the kitchen.We now find that the rat has decide that the balcony is his new home so the next step is to close those windows too.Funny how our conversations are all rat centered,we have become obsessed with the rat population in this area.Our lives revolve around the rat.The husband and I no longer fight about anything but the rat and how foolproof the husbands efforts have been in restricting entry into the house.My friends with similar problems discuss new ways of outsmarting the rat.It is an insult to our intelligence that this creature who is well below us in the evolution chain,can cause such fear,heartache and disgust in out lives.Strange.....I am beginning to think those corporate rats were a harmless lot after all

Traffic Sense

2010-09-09T01:37:00.000-07:00

Some twenty years ago I bought myself a bike not knowing how to ride a bicycle this was quiet an achievement.I learnt to ride it though after many a fall and bruise till I was pretty sure of myself on the road.It was a bit battle scared by the time I was ready to trade it in for a car.I have been driving the car now for over 10 years and haven't had too many mishaps except during the int ital years.But over the years I have learnt a few home truths especially if you live in my part of the woods.Its came home to me this morning when I had to pick a scrap with a young chap who simply refused to move out of my way despite being parked in the wrong place.So for the uninitiated here are a few ground rules to negotiate traffic in this country.

1.Before you leave home and get into the car make sure that common sense,courtesy and good manners are locked in the cupboard.Replace this with loads of aggression,stupidity and a total disregard for fellow citizens on the road.

2.At all times make sure to park in front of someones gate.(parking spaces are few and far between so grab the place and never mind if the people who live there have an emergency or simply need to go out and take their car with them,remember you have left common sense at home)

3.If someone has parallel parked in a designated parking space,make sure to park just behind them,switch off your engine,take the key and disappear for hours on end (chances are that the nice person who parked the right way is left stranded not being able to take his car out thanks to you,but remember he ought to have left good sense at home)

4.If anyone flashed his lights at you on the road,don't give way,drive on like you haven't seen a thing after all you need to get to your destination and to hell with what the other guy wants.

5.Make sure you always overtake from the left (in this country we drive on the left) and never mind that the person you are trying to overtake doesn't see you.

6.Make sure that if you want to turn to the right you don't have to be in the right lane.Do all of the above and cut across from the far left of the road at breakneck speed and leave the poor drivers on the right side either too shocked to react or dead in the bargain.

7.Indicators must have been the fancy of some automobile designer but they don't really serve any purpose so don't bother using them after all you will still be overtaken if you did.

8.Put your headlights on full beam as soon as the sun sets,this will make the driver on the opposite side blind but do you care?

9.The red light at the traffic signal ....well if you must you could stop but if your in a hurry just hurtle across the light and be gone

10.Make sure you honk all the time and as loud as you can,remember most people wont hear you or couldn't care less.

And if after all this you want to park your car,remember designated parking is for the foolish.This is Madras,this is India,learn to live by the rules you set.

Am I being funny and irresponsible?Well after having been subjected to all of the above on the roads of this city I am not sure who issues driving licenses nor am I sure where people learn to drive.Honestly some of the biggest offenders are the so called well off educated types with fancy expensive cars so am I surprised that the rest are not far behind?

My Changing World

2010-09-05T08:47:00.000-07:00

Its been ages since I have bothered to write anything at all so much so that the new windows version on my new laptop looks like Greek and Latin to me.Now the reasons are many fold.As usual nothing in the past months have inspired me enough to write about.There are many new malls and more and more people flocking to them and if you like me decide to go alone then it can be an unsettling and strange experience.The last week or so has been an eyeopener of sorts.We have been shaken out of our shells and forced to face a few new realities of the today's world.Heated discussion around our dining table has made us realise that the world has changed,parent child relationships are not what it used to be,education is no longer as sacred as we were brought up to believe and money actually grows on trees.

After months of deliberating of the merits of paying through my nose for a decent haircut (and in the process looking like something the cat brought in,with long straggly grey hair which adds ten years to my already ageing face) I decide to take the plunge.Now I do have expensive tastes but by certain acts of will power I have managed to stay clear of the debt trap and learnt to live within my means and indulge in the occasional splurge.Tony and Guy decided to open a shop in one of the fancy malls and as usual I decide to be guinea pig to this store.Before I can change my mind I have arrived at the shop and am made to wait for a few minutes.As I wait I realise that I am the few persons who actually thinks so much before spending money.The pretty young things as young as eighteen and under are flashing their parents add on cards with not a care in the world and getting haircuts and fancy treatments all set for Saturday night.I get my haircut done,chat up the hairdresser and when he is done with me I cant recognise myself.He has taken off years from my face at the same time making me look like I could walk bravely down a red carpet,except that he is at pains to tell me that he is a professional and I must not attempt to do this at home as I will end up deeply disappointed.I thank him and decided that I shall come back six months hence when the urge to look good gets to me.There is a party to attend so I am all set to look stunning.Ofcourse what I have forgotten is that the heat of my city can put a dampener to the smartest of hairstyles.By the time I have located my car at the end of a maze like parking bay,I am drenched in sweat and the hair is in danger of hanging limp.By the time I reach half way home,despite the air conditioning,I am beginning to look like a wet crow and by the time I reach home its time to wash away my indulgence under a shower.Hmm there I am back to normal except that the hair cut has begun to look like how it will when an armature like me had had a go at hairdressing (though its a lot better than what I looked like before).The party begins and our friend get a call from his eighteen year old asking for help getting into a pub which is acting difficult.I marvel at the pains the father takes to ensure that she gets in and gets her Saturday night fix of friends drink and general fun and games and I remember that even today I pretend to be drinking water (when in reality its vodka) when the mother is around and I cannot imagine admitting to my dad that I am out drinking.This is the changed relationship that exist between parents and children today.We came from formal relationships and by no stretch of imagination were my parents my friends,they were and still are parents.I realise that the world I know has long past and I try and understand what it means for my mother to be 80 and feel that the whole world has changed.Its strange this whole process of growing old by honestly I am thanking my stars that I has the best of a traditional upbringing along with the freedom to be my own person,enjoy life at a pace that put no pressure on me and today I can look at the current generation and feel no sense of regret.

Children and pressure

2010-06-24T07:43:00.000-07:00

Everyday the new papers report at least one suicide by children too young (in my opinion) to know the meaning of stress.My friend a child psychologist tells me her patients are as young as six and I wonder what the world is coming to when childhood which to me was a time of no responsibility and carefree fun,now turns out to be pressure filled and stressful.I suspect that the problem must be parents but not being a parent myself,its politically incorrect to have a discussion on the subject (parents are very touchy about their kids and can get pretty nasty if one makes a comment on their brats).I dont bother about it untill today when I saw pressure in action.A swimming class is in progress for children in the age group of six to ten and I find that the area surrounding the pool is filled with young proud parents who have come to see their children learn to swim (one of the many things today children have to learn in addition to school work).All the parents have their camera phones on the ready to catch the moment when the kids make their first dive,they compare notes and exchange anxious looks if their kids are not as good as someone else.The children without exception are terrified and are crying in fear but the parents will not let off on the pressure.For one hour the kids will have to do what they have to do weather they like it or not.Now I have nothing against children learning new skills but shouldn't it be because they want to or because they have agreed to do so.Do they have to be under so much pressure because the parents have to keep up with their peers when comparing parenting notes.I look at the children in the changing room.Not a single parent is there to comfort or reassure,not one parent tells them that its fine to take ones time,there is no deadline to meet etc....nothing.Just more pressure to be back to the next class,more pressure to join the next activity after this.Now I am no longer surprised when I hear of children under pressure but I know that the problem is not that of the kids themselves but rather that of parents who are trying to live their lives through their children.Small wonder then that the rat race begins so early in life.....I have seen kids enjoy activities because their parents have introduced them to variety and put them into activities for which they have the aptitude or the inclination but this mad dash to keep up with the neighbours is doing nothing for the psychology of the children in our cities and towns and I shudder to think of how these children will turn out.Isn't life all about learning to take failure and success with the same level of sense and understand ? but who will teach them that.....

Swimming Chronicals 4

2010-06-24T07:22:00.000-07:00

I am restless and the kind who can leave well alone so after the morning session of the swimming pool I am determined to do a bit of extra study (in this case practise).I join a friend who is a decent swimmer and off we go.The pool is full of young men in their twenties,middle aged men and a few old men along with a smattering of women (all of whom know how to swim).Now at the best of times,no one will attempt to talk to me(I am one of those grim faced woman who come across as unapproachable) but on the rare occasions that I choose to smile,its triggers all kinds of things.For them I attract unsolicited attention,conversations with strange men and advice of all kinds from people who would normally keep their opinions to themselves.Unfortunately I am at my vulnerable best in the pool so a smile crosses my face and from then on its downhill all the way.I went to the pool to practise my strokes and some breathing (my attempts at being a goldfish are not very rewarding).Now I have a man who has taken it upon himself to give me a lesson on physics.He tells me what happens when my head goes under water,he then goes on to tell me that my breathing sucks and that I have a long way to go and if I was thinking of being a swimmer well that was not going to happen (I didn't ask for his opinion but am too polite to say so).He goes off to the other end and I swim (or rather attempt) the small lap and try breathing.By then a 75 year old gent is at my side wanting to know how old I am.When the answer doesn't sound too attractive he tells me that I have a long way to go in the breathing department (like I don't know).My friend thankfully rescues me from both men and stands guard as i make feeble attempts to co ordinate arms,legs ,lungs and brain.Its all too much this orchestra especially for someone like me who is tone deaf,has no understanding of physics and am in no mood to listen to some men in the swimming pool.I put my grim face back,no smiles now just breath.My friend then teaches me how to float on my back (friends are friends because the know what will make you happy) and suddenly the world looks like a much better place.The clouds are beautiful,my body relaxes and I can enjoy the water.I could fall asleep like this except that I have a nasty feeling my brain may shut down and the body make get ideas of its own (I am no longer master of my body and soul).So I wait till my chief adviser goes back to the other end do a few more laps,get more water into my lungs than air and then decide to call it a day.My friend told me that I seem to puff out my cheeks when going into swim and somewhere my brain takes in this information and thinks that there is something there.I come home and practise my breathing again.Now after many attempts there is that eureka moment......finally I have discovered why I take in water and not air.I haven't even been breathing in the first place,just holding my breath and pretending.I think I may have found the solution to my problems but to check it out i have to wait another night.

Swimming Chronicals 3

2010-06-24T07:10:00.000-07:00

Its day nine of the swimming classes and I have finally understood the true meaning of going off the deep end and the meaning of sink or swim.For years I have used these phrases in conversation thinking I knew what it was all about but there is nothing like a swimming class to bring home its true meaning.We have now been initiated into the deep end.This is around 9 feet in depth though the trainer refused to look me in the eye and confirm this.He insists that I jump and swim to the other end.In a brave attempt to be one with the class,I say a prayer asking God to forgive me my sins and jump into the water.Suddenly my arms and legs seem to be talking to each other (there were at cross purposed all this while) and my lungs hold up.I find myself on the other side having no idea how I got there,so there was I literally falling off the deep end and not sinking but swimming instead.Its a scary thought to not know that there is a ground beneath and only the presence of the trainer who insists on making us do "harm action" propels me on.It tool me awhile to understand why he wanted me to harm anyone until I realised that he meant arm action.In the water vulnerable as I am,its no time to worry about correct English pronunciation.He then told us to jump off the diving board.For the first time in my life I thanked God for not being young.It has its advantages,especially when I tell him with a sad face that at my age it may be a bit risky to do such jumps.(after all I am well past qualifying for the Olympics,let alone the local swimming championships).He nods and tells me I can skip it so off I go to do my goldfish act (except that I am an insult to the goldfish).I am glad when the clock strikes and I can mark yet another day in my calender.Three more days to go.

Swimming Chronicles 11

2010-06-15T22:34:00.000-07:00

Day dawns with alarm at 5 am.There is a slight drizzle and my spirits lift,perhaps the class will be cancelled.I crashed last night at 10 pm well before my normal bedtime of 1am.In a bid to restore my flagging self esteem I went to the gym at 6 pm and worked out with a vengeance.Not a bright idea when the body is not used to such exercise twice a day but it was don't.The spin off is that dinner was a bit of a disaster as yours truly hadn't planned for it and the family is not about to starve for ones indulgences.The plants has to go without water as one was too tired to do the job and the mother had to do without my sparkling company as I was dead beat.Not such a great situation to be in when there is yet another class in the morning.Well i walk at the slowest speed and reach well in time.Once again we are asked to walk in water and hold our breadth etc and this time its a little better.Of course as long as there is support I am all for it.The real test comes when she expects us to push off and swim.Now I am told to open my eyes,keep my head under water,keep my legs straight and hands in front of me.How on earth am i expected to remember so many instructions when i am trying very hard to hold my breadth.The first few attempts puts me at the bottom of the class.I can see patience die on the instructors face and the rest of the class is jumping the ques.They are tired of my constant failed attempts.I decide that I must relax and enjoy it after all I am only aiming to float in the water and hang around in a pool on holiday so what have i to loose.Well i managed some,and found my self in the middle of the pool with no idea how I got there.The water is in my ears so I can hear instructions.I took in a bit of water yesterday which resulted in a bad stomach (considering what muck must be going into it) Today some more water gets in but i tell myself that if the immune system cant cope with this is doesn't deserve to be there in the first place.So I float and my muscles ache.Then arrives a new coach.A hefty man who is busy yelling instructions very much like the actors in the movie "police academy".Well call it woman's psychology but I am suddenly confident.He looks like he can fish me out of the pool with ease so I relax.He is also a little older than the woman coach so can understand what a herculean task it is for older students like us.Strange but i wasn't feeling so bad after all,infact maybe,maybe I may just make it to swimming.The husband said i looked happier so guess that's it.I am still marking days on the calender but i have to see this through.

Swimming Chronicles

2010-06-15T00:47:00.000-07:00

When life was busy with work taking up most of my time,I told myself that there were hundred things to do before i die and these had to be done soon (before the old bones protested).Well its two years now since i quit full time work and what have I learnt?.I have become more regular in the gym which thank god is showing some results,then I learnt to cycle,though I still cant manage to cross a busy road on it for fear of being killed before I achieve even fifty of the hundred things.They say fortune favours the bold so one fine day after having looked at the swimming pool for ten days,I decided that I must leave the safe confines of Terra firma and venture into deep waters.In one mad moment I has paid up a thousand five hundred quid (princely sum considering how inconsistent I am),went and got myself a swimsuit which wonder of wonders holds the fat stomach in in such a manner that I can see my toes (though once in water all i can hear is a beating panicking heart and no toes but tiles).Thus armed I spent a restless night oscillating between fear,anxiety and various other emotions none of which did anything to my self confidence.Awake at five ,the husband agreed to walk me to the pool almost like seeing a child off to school on the first day.It was a good idea to get hold of a friend as we turned out to be the oldest in the class.The rest of them were young and agile.The coach then set about making us walk in the water,easy enough when one is clinging to the sides of the pool but not so easy when one is not.Certainly not when the deepest end of the pool is nine feet and the thought that no one will even notice me at the deep end is certainly putting me at a deep end emotionally.Breathing she says has to be through the mouth and my lazy lungs protest bitterly so much so that i am bobbing up like a gold fish for air long before the rest of the class.I manage to float but the true test is as always kept for the last.I am asked to kick myself off with hands in front of me and to hold head underwater.Not a great multi tasker at the best of times,this is asking too much of me.I try very hard but end up looking like those giant frogs in Discovery channel or even a duck.My legs I notice are above water and I am floundering to get balance.Oh dear what have i got myself into I am not sure.This is the first day and i am trilled when the bell goes.Unlike the more fortunate friends who had help with floaters to aid then this is learning swimming the Indian way so no props,and no support.I clamber out of the water to suddenly feel my body like dead weight.I curse myself for not having learnt these skills earlier but now that I have another eleven days to go I shall mark them on a calender to make it easier.And so tomorrow is another day....

Of monkeys and cold showers

2010-05-20T02:04:00.000-07:00

Its been raining all night,in the hills the rain is like a symphony.One can almost hear a piece of music the rise and fall of raindrops on the roof.Its so loud on moment that one cant hear oneself and then it slows down and starts again.Even the tune is different.Its like a drumbeat at times,and then softens.Its mood changes.I listen to the downpour and wonder if we will wake up to flooded roads and with the music in my ears I fall asleep.

Its morning and the day dawns bright and warm with a promise of a beautiful day.As I get ready to face the day I am stoped dead in my tracks by a banging on the roof.Convinced that someone is hurling stones I wait for a reaction from someone but no on stirs.The noise continues and I wait hoping the roof doesn't cave in ,when I spot a family of monkeys.I think they have come for breakfast,an entire community of them chattering and jumping on the roof.I stay in till they leave and decide that a shower is in order and set anticipating a nice hot shower.Now this is the hills so patience is in order so I wait for the bone chilling cold water to turn warm.I have been told that hot showers are available.After a few minutes I give up and decide that this is just not my day.I extend one arm under the shower,then another,then a leg and by now I have turned numb and my body is turning blue but having come this far I may as well decide to finish.After numbness there is no pain,no feeling so I stand under the shower feeling not the cold pinpricks or the soap or anything for that matter.Finally I come out feeling rather heroic after all its not everyone who can take an ice cold shower in a cold hill station and live to tell the tale.The husband of course is the clever one,he checks the temperature of the water before he ventures out and is a safe man.....well but as I am in search of new experiences I mustn't complain.....of course after that experience I venture bravely into the cool with a cotton top and no sweater.I am ready to face the world.

Nightfall in the hills

2010-05-20T01:55:00.000-07:00

Sleepless as always I have managed to find a book,a bottle of water and some magazines to keep me going.Its the night of our first day in the hills and I am yet to digest that rather large lunch and to get used to altitude.Feeling bloated I convince the husband that a long walk might kick start the metabolism and he agrees,though he is facing no problems with his body which seems to be listening to him unlike mine.We set off in sweater and caps to the road that will lead us to town.Its now cold but a nice cold and we take a stroll down hill which is rather easy.The husband walks while I roll after him at a steady pace.Having reached the end we need to climb back and I am determined to teach my body a lesson in discipline.We make it in good time,are greeted with yet another cup of tea and call it a day.The electric blanket is on and the husband is curled up and asleep by the time I finish my gossip session with my sister.Suddenly I am not feeling so cold anymore and as night falls here I am with a nice book,many copies of magazines and peace and quiet....the end of a rather long day that started in Madras

ooty day 1

2010-05-20T01:43:00.000-07:00

Our flight lands in Coimbatore and we have left cyclone laila far behind and the warm temperature greets us.Flying a low cost airline means that hunger is never very far away the moment we recline into the comfort of the Ambassador car (we have forgotten what this car feels like thanks to having used the more modern ones that are in the market now),we hunt out an eating place.Fussy as we have become we look for a place where we cant go very wrong with the food and after a lunch that makes us feel like beached wales we climb back into the car and set off on our journey to the hills.The food and the warmth makes us drowsy and we promptly fall asleep until the airconditioning is switched off.We wake up to a landscape that has changed.Barren fields have given way to high trees and lush green,the air is dense with the fragrance of flowers and other things that hit our unfamiliar noses.The temperature drops at a steady pace and the hills roll by with the fresh cool air hitting our faces and lifting our spirits.Our journey upwards is fought with some city like traffic jams but we climb steadily.Three hours later we have reached the queen of hill stations who is fast on the way to becoming a pauper at the rate at which construction and deforestation is striping the landscape of its beauty but as out of towners we have no complaints.Its now cool almost bordering on cold and we soak it in and are glad to have reached the hills.The climb up to the house is another matter altogether.Two years of constant working out is nothing compared to a hill climb in high altitude.My heart protests,my knees cry fowl but I soldier on knowing that a hot cup of tea awaits.....not disappointed the tea is fantastic,it burst in the mouth with the flavour of fresh tea gardens,mountain springs and the promise of more

Vacations

2010-05-19T08:54:00.000-07:00

holidays are not something we plan,not even the international ones.We decide on a whim to go and then work the logistics around it.When the heat of madras got too much we decided to go to Ooty,queen of the hills in our part of the world.After checking with nephews and nieces if they were free to keep my mother company (she refuses to step out of the house) and after checking with my sister if she was free to entertain us,we booked our tickets and waited happily for the day of departure.The heat continued to rise unabated and as we stayed drenched in sweat we counted the days to Ooty and coolness.On the day before departure,the weather changed.It was muggy and hot with a hint of rain and we wondered if the weather gods were to cheat us once again (the heat always travels with us).As the day progressed a cyclonic storm loomed large over the city and by the evening gusty winds howled through the house and the rain poured.The temperature dropped and a coolness set in.As we were ready to beat the heat we were beaten to it.Now we faced the prospect of missing lovely weather in our own city and the possibility that rain would delay our flight and the roads would flood and the car wouldn't take us to the airport.We had a serious fight about packing,the husband with his pucca ways and me with my habit of throwing things into the bag,this was not a nice situation.After an hour of joint yelling at each other we decided to cancel the trip.Half an hour later we had decided otherwise.The trip seems to be doomed from the start.The normal meticulous husband didn't charge his phone and had given only his number to the taxi people.There was no way they could contact us.The electricity failed and we were plunged into darkness and no sign of light in the morning.By this time desperate me was praying that everything would sort itself out as by now with one disaster following in the others wake,I was convinced that the plane would crash and we would be dead.....well god answered prayers and all was well.The aircraft took off and with a bit of turbulence we made our way out of the storm and towards the hills.First hurdle crossed

Lifes lessons learned

2010-05-17T01:41:00.000-07:00

Everyday is a lesson learned.Having high expectations of life can be a good thing but it also means that one has to be clear about these expectations.If it involves people then its best to figure out who these people are and what to expect from them.With the family unit becoming smaller and smaller one realises that the family unlike in previous times,is not something one can depend on in a crisis.I have over the years had to deal with every crisis on my own and if it wasn't for friends who rallied around,helped out and allowed me to vent distress and frustration then where would I be.Asking for help is not something that comes easily to me simply because I have realised that a lot of people who offer help actually offer lip service when it comes to the real thing.Sometimes it angers me but at other times I ignore it keeping in mind that one more lesson has been learnt,whom to depend on.

Over the years our circle of friends have become smaller but all of us have learnt that unlike our parents we need to deal with loneliness,disease and depression on our own.We need to be able to handle every crisis on our own and all of us have in many ways started working towards it.Saving money planning our financials,discussing our wills,its always there at the back of our minds.Ours is the last generation of generosity,of giving without expecting and of being bound by duty and love.As India becomes younger and more affluent we will go through that phase when all that matters is self,when everyone is using everyone else to get at ones own ends.Its a depressing thought but a lesson learned.Yesterday when a lot of friends met up after many years under not the happiest of circumstances,we all realised how we help each other in out own ways,mine is to cook and feed,someone else is to comfort and be around and none of us overlap on our helplines,we work in perfect harmony,picking up where we left off,and as I looked over then I realised that family is really not so much about bloodlines but of compatibility and friends.This is my family,these are the people who are closest,the ones we discuss things with the ones who know a lot about us but wont judge us too much.Yes we have our differences but despite all that,we are there when needed most.

Helpless in the mango season

2010-05-16T02:16:00.000-07:00

Sometimes the American way seems to be the only solution.Most Americans can sue for the silliest of reasons and in India on the other hand I cant sue anyone for anything and if i did I can think of paying a lawyer for years to come and be sure that other than burn a hole in my bank account,nothing much will come of it.

Take for instance today,a sleepy Sunday afternoon and the roads are empty and the sun blazes down in unrelenting heat.The neighbour has striped his mango tree of all its fruit save the branches that are too high.Now the only thing left are a bunch of tempting mangoes hanging from the high branches.We are just about thinking of having a cat nap when a loud noise accompanied by shattering glass tells us the all too familiar story.The local boys are out in large numbers,armed with stones to knock down the mangoes.Unfortunately aim is not one of their strong points so instead of getting the mango they get our window pane.This is a yearly summer occurrence.We rush out but are too late for the nimble limbed urchins,the neighbour is apologetic but cant do much.All it ensures is that we have a new and unexpected financial problem to deal with.We also know that its best to live with a broken window pane until the season is over or the boys will be back at it.

Now we talk about it but cant do a thing,we cant sue our neighbour or the street urchins,we cant sue the police for not keeping guard and we grin and bear it.We tell ourselves that we are lucky it wasn't the car that was damaged and send up a silent prayer that the boys don't get it next time.This is India and we learn to cope,swallow out anger,deal with our helplessness and try and count our blessings.This is the only way to survive this country

Woman of courage

2010-05-14T07:59:00.000-07:00

Two very strong woman,one brought up seven boys single handed put them through the best schools and colleges,despite the husband having passed on rather suddenly and with financial problems mounting.Most people would have advised her to compromise on the children's education,after all seven boys cant be easy but she held on,saw them though and in the process earned the love and respect of the sons who realised that what their mother had done could only have happened thanks to a strong person she was.She died this year in her 80s,not having married again she lived her life,running the family and seeing to her children.I didn't know her personally but i hear the pride in her children's voices,I hear it again in her daughter in laws voice (and that should mean something).

I know another person also in her eighties battling for her life in a city hospital while her daughters stand by and do the best they can under the circumstances.I know her personally.Most people would say she is difficult,has a mind of her own and the word I think would be feisty.I always like visiting her,small gossip sessions are great fun.She would rule over her house and know all the happenings in the building adding her own bits and pieces so it would sound interesting.I visited her some six months ago and keeping in mind her medical condition,I took some fruits.She wasn't too happy about it but as her daughter was around I played safe.I met her again three months ago.This time I threw caution to the winds and took along a box of chocolate biscuits.Her delight was reward enough,she is the same age as my mother but has had to deal with widowhood in a brahmin community which I know is not the easiest of things.She has smart daughters who manage their lives very well and that cant go down well with the community at large either .I remember soon after I was married she invited me to a pooja.Now I don't generally go to poojas but I went for hers (ones doesn't refuse this person) and I remember she was most disgusted by the fact that I has not worn the bindi that most married woman wore.The fact that I am christian and didn't need any of that didn't go down well with her.The long and short of it is that she marched to her pooja room,took out the red powder and made sure I had a red mark on my forehead.She would call from time to time and we would share cribs on our maid servants.I remember one profound remark she made to me one day when I asked after her health.She told me in no uncertain terms that she would beat her cancer and die of old age and nothing else.As she fights for her life I remember that sentence,I remember how inspired I was at her courage,her positive outlook on a life that wasn't easy and I pray that whatever she is going through now,the gods of her pooja room and the god that I pray to will give her the courage and strength to go through all this.It take guts to be the kind of woman these two are and I haven't come across many of them in my lifetime.As I grow older I keep my role models always in my mind.It takes courage to be a woman and I hope I will learn from these remarkable but very ordinary woman.

The bored nephew

2010-05-09T22:31:00.000-07:00

Why no blogs? asks a 21 year old nephew and I realise that he must be truly bored and fed up of college,if the only reading matter he has access to is my blog.I promised him I would write about him as nothing seems to inspire me in the sweltering heat of this city.Of course that's not to say he inspires me but nevertheless as I have been party to a lot of his growing up one must say there is a story of sorts there.

He was a much awaited child (or so I think) and my sister being the fussy kind was most worked up during his birth.She was so sure that the boy wouldn't bother to make an entry into the world the natural way that she insisted on a C section to avoid any mishap.Unfortunately for her the date was anywhere between the 17th and 19th of March which she realised made him a piscean,which wasn't so bad in itself but if you had even the faintest belief in destiny and astrology then it wasn't so nice.According to most books,those born under this sign are dreamers (not acceptable in anyone least of all in a boy born into an Indian family) and having already had a sister born under the same sign made it even worse.Her first thoughts on his birth was that he may just turn out like the younger sister who happened to be not just a dreamer but a rebel to boot which is not the best of combinations.A lot of the family described me as moody,silent,mysterious and generally disagreeable so it wasn't a very good collection of traits to have and my poor sister was convinced that he would go the way of the younger sister.Well 21 years later I am sorry to say I had no influence on the boy except in the manner of a sharp retort and his uncanny way of not answering any question that he thinks may incriminate him in any manner.

We didn't have much contact with the boy over the years as he lived on one tea estate after the other but in the few times that we did visit he had turned out to be a bit if a spoilt single child,the only other thing beating him in the spoilt department was the family dog.Being animal he managed to get the better of the boy and in one single demonstration of this fact the dog choose to grab the cricket stumps and sit on it while the boy fretted and fumed that his game was spoilt.The dog of course had no intentions of parting with what he thought was a bargaining tool and the game ended with the dog walking away with all the glory.

He was in his early years a great fan of planes,cars,the sportstar magazine and the newspaper.The moment he learnt to read he would grab the newspaper and read the fine print on the sports pages.We all believed that he would end up playing cricket for the country,or become a racer etc,fond hope indeed but when one lives in Kerala the only options are to become an engineer or a doctor and in the end he did end up in an engineering college and save his honour in the land of his birth.

His ability to fend for him self (not a skill to be demonstrated when the mother was around,then he would play helpless,press all the right buttons and have the mother at his beck and call) was obvious from early days.He had an obsessive love of chocolate and after overdose after overdose he was told that he was allergic to the stuff.Naturally enough his mother banned any form of chocolate from his diet.But on holidays at our home,he would charm my mother and the moment his mother and i left the house he would demand that his grandmother bake a chocolate cake.Feeble attempts at a refusal met with some very sound arguments on the merits of chocolate,his mothers over protection on his behalf,how he needed to overcome his allergy (his logic was that to eat chocolate despite his body's protests,would eventually win the allergy war) etc and before his mother could get back home he would have had his cake and eaten it too.

The stories are never ending but I shall stop with this account which was till he was somewhere in the region of six or seven......we lost touch for a long time afterwards and pick up again after he goes to college....very few stories are known of that period and one is forced to piece together bits and pieces taken from various facebook updates and friends comments which unfortunately is no basis for a story so one hope that the boy enjoys this update and can find more stimulating reading matter in the near future

I Remember

2010-04-08T02:03:00.000-07:00

I went on to a school group and discovered that my memory is nothing compared to the girls and boys at school who can recall dates,mysteries and all things connected with school so i decided to out down the things i remember of school,guess the ones i remember are probably the ones that made the most impact so here goes.

I remember the first day at school,feeling betrayed because no one explained to me that i couldn't sit in the same class as my older sister

I remember Mrs Karr she who gave me all the dolls and books to read and who read to me a frightened six year old at her first day in school

I remember another teacher who was an ex air hostess and I hated her,I wasn't good enough for her so she picked on me despite being the best in lessons

I remember having to stand on the chair as punishment for talking in class,for getting my needlework all wrong,and having my school belt taken off as additional punishment

I remember climbing a tree in the school campus,getting caught and having my father summoned to school on a complaint that i wasn't behaving like a girl (I think that's when i started to rebel against convention)

I remember having to do all the long talking parts in school plays because I had a clear voice and good pronunciation ( after having been forced to listen to the BBC everyday how could i not)

I remember throwing stones at the tamarind tree and eating all the ripe tamarinds

I remember catching dragon flies and grasshoppers and stuffing them into my pockets

I remember the school play field flooding during the rains and becoming a lake and we were forbidden to venture out

I remember the big evergreen tree near the new classroom that had to be cut and how we discovered all the birds nest among its branches

I remember hating games period and managing to get our watchman out on some errand and changing the hands of the clock ahead of time

I remember scripture union meeting when i collected money for less fortunate children though I didn't like the scripture union master too much,he had too many favourites and i wasn't one of them

I remember lunch hour when the Anglo Indian girls brought mutton curry that was so green it looked and tasted amazing.

I remember getting my shoes wet in the rains and wishing I had patent leather shoes like some of the other girls had (my parents though they were a waste of money )

I remember the days after the exams and before the holidays when we could bring our toys to school and play all day

I remember teachers day when the teachers entertained us and I remember the sweet grape juice with ice and the lovely mint sandwiches

I remember marching to chopsticks every morning to assembly

I remember trembling on days when report cards were given

I remember the hymns of term end,"now thank we all our god"

I remember the school hymn "oh god our help in ages past"

I remember music class where we sang "teddy bears picnic"

I remember the song "my little brown jug"

Oh that's about what i can remember thus far,but there is a lot more and in eleven years there were the good ones and the bad ones...another time and place

Saving marriages

2010-03-30T07:33:00.000-07:00

We have been married for a dozen years and been friends for longer so after knowing the husband for some nineteen odd years,one gets used to certain comforts.Its almost like we can finish sentences for each other,we can think alike decide what to do without worrying about what the other will think.Some folks might find this boring,some people will find this non exciting.So what do I think.Well why am i writing this.Simply because we have far too many friends who are on to second marriages some disaster stories some just sad and sometimes just sometimes there are stories that make me worry,make me sad because there are nice people who took the trouble to understand each other and loved each other and suddenly its all over.It scares me when I see couples with children,happy families that break up suddenly for no reason at all.Does one take sides,does one have to choose who one will be friends with when they split up.Does one need to take the trouble to talk to them,counsel them try to get them back together.I am not sure.At what point does one know that its all over,is it sudden death or a gradual drifting away.I know of perfectly nice men who tell me they are so busy providing for wife and kids that they don't have personal time.I know they mean well but ask the mentioned wife and kids and they probably would be happier with his time than his money.Wives who play roles that they think is what they is expected of them...finally its about making time for the little things,watching a movie,having a conversation,going for a walk or just having a nice roaring fight and making up later.Life is all about the small things,nothing is complicated unless we want to make it so.But how do we come to such conclusions,how do we save a marriage.I don't know and I pray that i wont have to make such choices.For me its still the little things and i hope to stay that way but i wish i could convince some of my friends about this.

Mosquito tennis

2010-03-24T09:52:00.000-07:00

Sports-never has been and never will be my strong point,yet over the last few years I have had the misfortune of suffering from tennis elbow.Now how could someone with no sense of tennis or co ordination get into such a situation.Well the answer lies in the life that is in Chennai.For as long as we can remember tennis was a passion for most people as was cricket.The ATP tour comes to Chennai every Jan and we all troop like good pilgrims to the stadium and eat and cheer and do everything like good tennis lovers.Now tennis is an expensive game and not everyone can become an accomplished player but if your are like me then over time (in fact in a very short time) you could become a great player.My backhand has improved so much as has all other aspects of my game.And this is the new trend in Chennai.Its called mosquito tennis.Now this is not funny and remember just as in the actual game here the target is always on the move,can cover vast areas of space which means one has to swing ones bat over a large radius.Keep your eye on the mosquito and make sure all returns of serve are accurate.They come in hoards and everyone and his uncle in Chennai own a bat.Its the hottest selling piece of Chinese equipment that flies off the shelves.Mosquito is almost ready to be included into the commonwealth games.After all didn't malaria come from Africa and India and didn't the mosquito spread it?.I practise every day from 5pm till dinner time and that's a lot of hours of practise to clock.There is no time for ball change,court change etc.This is in real time and this is the fast and furious.Remember the ball (in this case the mosquito) can cause serious damage.Now most kids in Chennai are born with a mosquito bat in their hands.Gone are the days of the silver spoon,nothing and nobody is spared.So if your wondering why Chennai produces all the best known tennis stars in India remember its largely due to a long dirty river,stagnant water and the ever present mosquito who fires our first and best interests in Tennis..

Cattyness

2010-03-11T06:20:00.000-08:00

Do I love animals?,perhaps I do but not sure if I can handle the responsibility of bringing up a domestic creature.Very much like children everyone tell me....well I don't have children and tremble with fear at the thought of having any and then bringing them up in today's world.So what was I thinking when I got involved with a cat.Strangely he landed up in our building some two months ago a tiny piece of goods,abandoned by his mother and in search of food.Now cats are not my favourite animals and like a lot of people i have reservations about them.Unfortunately I also have a heart that melts easily and the sight of the poor creature was too much to ignore.A saucer of milk and the kitten was happy,more milk followed and before I knew it he had a name and a personality,I then graduated to giving him fish.He loved it and would show his appreciation by climbing on to my shoulder and biting my ears.We played endlessly at all times of the day and he got used to me ,the building and its people.We all collectively fell in love but I was the worst hit.He knew how to press all the right buttons.Unfortunately he had to be a building cat as I lack the discipline to bring up a kitten and the husband doesn't like to have animals in the house (a battle that i am fast loosing,especially when the choice is husband or animal).He managed well and we all fell into our own ways of dealing with our lives and him until one unfortunate day we pest controlled the house and our poor kitten was poisoned.Thankfully that soft heart of mine also has a brain that can think,so before we knew it he was being rushed to the vet and then brought home to stay in our balcony and be looked after day and night.None of us including the vet expected him to make the night but survive he did and slowly he got better.House painting was on the cards and we couldn't expose our already vulnerable kitten to more toxins so we called a friend who is a major cat person and she took him home with a promise to bring him back when we had the house back.Now the big question is what the time frame it takes for a street kitten to become a house pet.Not much I would say and when he came back I realised he was no longer fit to be a building cat.He was far more comfortable on my lap,on the cushion and was not happy being outside,trying very hard to come home so the long and short of it was that in all his distress he was sent back to the comfortable home that he had gotten used to for ten days.Will he continue to stay there or will he be sent to someone else is antibody's guess.Am I sad?,well yes and no.I cried my lungs out when i said goodbye the first time,this time its a sense of loss but one part of me says that if I cant give him a home,then I have no business to keep him.All I can hope and pray for is a good home and loving people because he is a wonderful animal and he captured my heart and if I continue to fall in love again in the same way very soon bits of my heart will be all over the place.Confused,and in love....well don't the two always go together....such is like...

The inland letter

2010-02-11T22:07:00.000-08:00

I had spent a lot of time yesterday (like many other days) talking to friends on phone,chatting on chat and so on and at the end of the day I was left wondering what I was left with.Let me explain...of course there is a chat history that one can go back to,there are ways to store sms messages for a long time,but in the face of all this technology(which I am a great fan of) I missed the old inland letter and the postcard and the aerogram of the Indian Postal Service.I grew up in a time when cell phones didn't exist and the land line was a symbol of affluence (it was the most difficult thing to get with long waiting lists).When school closed for the holidays we had to take a bus and visit friends within the city.To keep in touch with those far away we bought inland letters in bulk and filled every available space with news of our day to day happenings,we mentioned all the time how much we missed our friends.To those friends in far flung countries,we sent air mail letters.It was fun shopping for the thinnest letter paper as the price of postage went up with the weight so we filled pages of onion skin paper (always in pink and blue shades) and posted them and waited for a reply.Considering that we used normal post (couriers were unheard of in those days) chances are that it took a while to get a reply.Our mornings were spent waiting for the post man who happened to bring smiles all around.I don't remember so much junk mail or bills arriving.It was always letters from grandparents,friends and some times a post card.I used this means of communication for years,even after I had started working.I still remember all those letters that boyfriends or some special friends sent(I preserved the ones I thought were special).I tied them all together with pink satin ribbons and kept them long after those relationships died and were forgotten.When my mother decided to clean up the attic i still remember the box of letters she handed to me saying it was time to burn them.There were at least ten bunches.I read them all again,after many years,and the memories were sweet and sometimes sad.I marvelled at the childishness of some of the letters,the sentiments of the others and the silliness of some more.I remember how sad I felt at burning them,they were memories of a lifetime but then they were of no use anymore,so I burned them all.Today I look around for those recorded memories,things to go back to,to recollect and I find nothing.Of course I find it easier to keep in touch,I know I am a lot more updated on what my friends do but all said and done I still love the way the odd Christmas card arrives,the day someone sends me a birthday card and all this despite the fact that sms messages come on all significant days.Call me sentimental but a personal letter cant be replaced by chat or sms or phone calls however easier or convenient they may be.Somethings are just irreplaceable

New year

2009-12-31T05:20:00.000-08:00

what is it about atmosphere and expectations.Thirty first of December is just another day followed by the first of Jan,but despite that we treat it so differently.There is something in the air,expectations of many dreams to come true,the feeling of deep depression for the things past and for the pains that await us as life passes on to another year.I told myself that i would take it in my stride just like any other day,but I refused to see the doctor despite being a bit under the weather because i don't want to start the new year with medication,I am feeling sad because someone i know is dying and i know how that felt two years ago.The memory being too fresh.I look forward in anticipation of good things to come.I know that on the second of Jan everything will settle back into routine,but i still can figure what it is about this day that brings together such conflicting emotions.Why do we feel the need to be with loved ones on Christmas and new year,why do we want to party with our friends,why do we make that fancy lunch (this time my fridge is empty,because i want to be different)and why do we make the effort to be different on this day.The end of the year and the beginning of a new one,but we see so many beginnings and so many ends.....I wonder if i will ever get to feel that this day is just another one....and while i am on it i may as well tell you that resolutions have never been my strong point but i shall make one.....not to lend my books to friends who refuse to return them and on that note here's to a great year ahead

the year that way

2009-12-11T01:05:00.000-08:00

Its almost the end of the year and as one more year rolls by and as we get a year older I like looking back and taking stock of the year that was.When we started 2009 I remember the husband telling me that this would be a good year.We had left behind sickness and death of 2008 and were looking forward to a year of less stress and more happiness.It started well with the house being full of guest and so much of fun and noise.My sisters stay meant that the husband and I were able to be off on some outing or the other which we find relaxing.It was also a year when the husband followed in my footsteps and gave up full time work.After a year of seeing each other in airports or on the weekend,this was a great time for us to be back in each others company.If we had any apprehensions of being under each others feet,then well it wasn't to be.Over months we found our little place in the scheme of things and it was comforting to just have him around.All his financial planning for our joint retirement paid off.We took off to the UK at the spur of the moment(unlike most people who plan in advance)for three weeks for a great holiday.We didn't have to worry about asking for leave,we didn't have to come back to the stress of corporate life and the feeling of freedom and happiness give the holiday a different twist altogether.Our unexpected visit to Scotland and meeting up with an old friend (who never stays in touch and whom we had given up as lost) were memories we shall always cherish.My sister who normally is expected in December,decided to come back in august so another long drive to Bangalore became possible.We had sold our trophy car earlier this year and despite what everyone else said we thought it was a wise decision.Not having to live up to an image meant that the small car served us well and it gave me a chance to drive on the highway(i am so nervous with big cars that i have been a passenger on highways so far).Bangalore also helped me to acquire a new skill.After all these years i mastered cycling and enjoyed going around my sister in laws community colony with the wind blowing in my hair and the feeling of being on air.

Some concerns of my mothers health existed when she fractured her shoulder but with the care and time we can give her now its all worked out.She is back in the kitchen (a place she is most happy at) and the food she churns out has the husband hankering about me writing a book.Seeing the movie Julia and Julia only makes him believe his wife is the future Julia child.Well perhaps in the next year.I managed to do many interesting jobs this year,and find that the lack of routine give me the chance to explore what i really like to do.Towards the end of the year we had our friends visit us with their kids.Considering we haven't seen them for at least ten years this was a great time to catch up and regroup with plans to meet more often.Our niece and here children are back in India and the husband has enjoyed playing with the kids who talk nineteen to the dozen.

When the Christmas tree is up and the house reverberates with Christmas carols,i realise its time to give thanks for a year of joy and happiness,of a new chapter in our live,for the joy of having our mother with us and seeing her do well,to have our friends visit us,to see that after all the time the husband and i spent together this year has been a great learning time and we hope the next year brings more happiness

The Eco project

2009-12-05T04:22:00.000-08:00

some of us like to believe that we are socially responsible,environmentally friendly but are stoped dead in our tracks by red tape and bureaucracy.Is this an excuse for inaction or just the cynic in us talking.I have long been a great out door person in love with flora and fauna.My contribution to climate change and global warming is to create a little green space in a balcony that can only accommodate my plants and me provided i hold my breadth.I have expanded my plant collection to the terrace and have collected all my kitchen waste to create compost for my garden to be sustainable.But having said that I have don't very little for the community and environment i live in.I have long fantasied about working as a gardener or with the world wild live association to be close to animals.All that like i mentioned remained a pipe dream.I seriously believed that this could only happen if i lived in Europe or in the hills of India.Today at 10 am which is early by my standards,i dragged myself off to a meeting of civic groups who are concerned about the environment.I met people who have been doing work in the city and good work at that despite the many hurdles that have come their way.I walked around the adyar poonga(which i didn't know existed) the once hotbed of vice and now a haven for migrating birds and fish.Mangrove trees have been planted in the salty areas,spaces to sit and enjoy the breeze and there are people who are actively involved in technology updates for the environment,audits of birds and trees and community and student groups who network for best practices.I discovered that my long lived ambition of being a gardener can happen if i volunteered to this project.I could plant trees,and learn more.I can then join like minded groups to study wild life birds etc and to explore the great outdoors within my city.I spent at least five hours in this place listening to the things that various groups have been able to achieve.I saw first hand the development that is happening and met a whole bunch of interesting people.Needless to say i came back home with my eyes wide open.There is action on the ground and i can be a part of it.So i am looking forward to the next step and hope to be part of the movement.It made me realise that i need to make time to explore the city i live in and to network with the people and projects that are truly after my own heart.Dreaming and not doing is an excuse which i cant afford to hide behind any more.Will it work?....well i am not sure but like its said nothing ventured,nothing gained right?

That green tea experience

2009-12-04T07:35:00.000-08:00

The world is full of people tasting cheese,wine tea,luxury etc and everyone adds their own mystery to the thing on hand.I watch people describe wine in glowing terms,they talk of fruit,flowers woody and they then go into detail of the kind of fruit and flowers.Honestly while all that is fine,I wonder how much is dictated by geography.For instance,if one lives in Europe then wont they know the sent of different flowers the flavours of fruit native to that country?.If you told me the wine tasted of oak and peat i would blink simply because i have no clue what an oak smells like or peat for that matter,but tell me the wine tastes like jack fruit or mango and i would then know how to distinguish a good wine from a bad one.Cheese the same thing,the cows in France eat grass of a different quality,how am i to identify the taste,and frankly speaking i don't trust the people in my country who claim to be experts,one simply has to live in wine and cheese producing countries for a longish period to understand.So whats my point really?.Well today i tasted a green tea from china.Now the east is pretty similar in geography so i don't feel clueless.Having spent many a holiday on tea estates I can with a fair degree of knowledge talk of tea.This packed of tea was given to me by a friend who visited china.The leaves were tightly packed and looked like dried flowers.I boiled some hot water,threw in some tea leaves and let it infuse.After a few minutes I poured out the tea.The leaves by now has unwound themselves and looked more like neen leaves but the flavour was what took me by surprise.It kind of burst into multiple flavours in my mouth.Suddenly i was transported to rain drenched paddy fields,damp attics which hold unlimited potential for food and treasures,it tickled my senses and i could smell flowers.Its strange,this was my taste buds speaking but my nose seemed to be communicating with my mouth and jasmine,rose and some familiar but unknown flavours were mingling in my mouth.It was a sublime experience,this was what the wine experts talk about,here i was drinking green tea and i could see the hills,smell the damp earth and taste the air and the fragrances all just in one cup of tea.Its then that i realised how important geography was to all this mystery.Kerala and tea estates,long lost memories of childhood very similar to cultures of Chinese villages.So there is no mystery to taste ultimately its a question of experience,of countries explored and of food adventures undertaken.I went back to my green tea again after dinner and once again it was back.This is why food and drink and so much a part of who i am.It is an expression of who one is....

gym tales

2009-11-17T05:45:00.000-08:00

She works out with a vengeance.Fat oozes from every pore and she runs cycles and looks famished.I had to know what she did so some gentle questions later i realise that she has been ripped off.She is on a diet that consists of fruits one day,horse gram another and bread on another.No tea or coffee.And the poor thing has lost weight and is tired.Consider this....lets suppose she does loose a few kilos.....can you believe living a life on pulses grams and fruits(not the tasty ones by the way).I would image that its better to be fat and happy than be thin and hungry.After all if there is only one life why not enjoy it.Oh but then i haven't told you the other side.She feeds on pizza(not the Mediterranean variety mind you),fast food of the likes of KFC and MC Donald's.Ghee and lots of rice and generally ever thing that one shouldn't be eating or at least eating in moderation.Unfortunately she is young and didn't have the fun that someone of my age has had.Good home cooked food,lots of climbing trees and playing in the sun and not putting on any weight till the big 4.Sad but true.This is progress and i cant help but feel a big smug that at my age i can afford to have a bit of the middle age spread.Thank god it came only in middle age and not before

The fat and thin of it

2009-11-17T05:30:00.000-08:00

Discipline,not one of my strong points(mind you i have very few of them...strong points i mean)but then again,its been two years now and i have i must admit been rather regular at the gym.Two reasons,one sheer guilt(when one shells out that kind of money,guilt will follow),the other is that i can enter shops try out clothes and no go into depression(never mind that i am visiting plus size shops).To be so regular is new to me,but then again the papers and tv are so full of good health exercise,diet and what have you that i could give a lecture of the power of exercise and one would believe i am an expert.Unfortunately,like all things intangible,there are no rights and wrongs or so it seems.So one day they tell me to tuck my stomach in(very important for a good work out).What they don't tell you is that if ones stomach arrives before the rest of the body,then chances are that no amount of tucking in is going to make a difference.I never know if the stomach is tucked in because there is too much to tuck.Well when i protest loudly they tell me not to worry,it seems that the body stores fat around the stomach.No one bothers to tell me why some of the real big built woman in other parts of the world don't have the same problem(marks and spencers have gad jets or rather inner wear to deal with this problem).The solution however according to one trainer is to do ab crunches or exercises for the stomach.I try and try and get out of breadth.When that fails the next girl tells me that increase in cardio exercises will burn fat and therefore the stomach will disappear.So i run and jump and row and horror or horrors,the stomach which looked like it was on the verge of disappearing.....actually came back.Now unfortunately the smart trainers at the gym have worked on my upper body and lower body.They always leave the difficult parts(middle) to the end.And now i am left with skinny legs,muscular arms(i can put weightlifters to shame) and a stomach that arrives in a room a few hours before the rest of the body.Is this a bad situation or just plain funny.The jury is still out on that one.Unfortunately i have signed up for another year(thanks to one of those limited offers)and i wonder now what i will look like a year down the line.Honestly for the kind of money i spend trying,i might as well head to London,invest in one of those smart pieces of clothing which actually make one look slim and be done with it.And to think i developed discipline in the process.Guess like they say,there are some clouds with silver linings...huff and puff

mothers and daughters

2009-10-22T07:40:00.001-07:00

My mother has this standard saying every time i argue with her,that when i reach her stage in life i will understand.I keep telling her that's not true but of late i have been forced to keep quiet.I have seen it and realise that she is so right.I have a reasonably close knit family but some of us tend to be detached.But as we reach each stage in life I see history repeating itself.One of my sisters is the totally detached type or at least projects that image,and she is the first of us to be going through the stages that my mother has already experienced.To see her with her grandchildren is a study in contrast to the mother she was.With her own children I remember my mother nagging her about attention,attending to the children's needs and them exchanging different points of view on parenting and agreeing on very few.My mother on the other hand indulged her grandchildren to the level of making them spoilt brats (only when they were in her house).Full circle now and I see the differences in my sisters interactions with her daughter and grand children.She is like my mother an indulgent grandmother but unlike my mother who rode rough shod over her daughters rules,to establish her own grandmother rules,my sister is a silent spectator to her daughters rules.The rules being so strict that in the long run,these very children will never experience the enriching experience of being grand children in an Indian environment.Not for them the pampering and spoiling,not for them the breaking of rules with grandparents.But the bright side to this is that my sister has probably become closer to her mother.I see the change,suddenly she calls a lot more,she spends a lot more time with her mother and the bonds are so much closer.Did it take a parents death,the process of moving on to the next stage in life,the relationship of her own daughter being around....what was it that changed.My mother obviously has here basics right.Her daughter is going through what she went through at that age and together they have experiences to share.Do we tell her daughter all this or do we wait for her to realise that there are times in life that cannot be relived.Do we tell her that it takes maturity to be able to bend the rules depending on the situation without loosing out on basic discipline.Do we draw attention to the hurt one sees in peoples faces when those rules are enforced so ruthlessly.Or do we just wait for her to reach that stage and realise that life is about flexibility,its about enjoying the moment?.I stand on the sidelines and watch at changing rules of relationship and somewhere i see a loss of spontaneity,of a free life and at the same time the gains of a closer relationship.Like all things in life there are two sides to everything and its just possible that mothers always know whats right for you....

Awards and the men

2009-10-11T07:35:00.001-07:00

The big news is that Barack Obama won the Nobel prize for peace and half the world is divided on weather he deserves it or not.I think its a good thing that there is so much debate,it means that much as we admire him we still have the objectivity notice when someone is overrated.But having said that,what are awards all about.Take for instance the awards given for movies,entertainment and corporate excellence.How many of those are really well deserved.In the final analysis its not so much what you achieve but what the world at large thinks you have achieved.This is done by saying all the right things,being constantly in the lime light,marketing oneself to the people who matter and if you don't do all of that,it doesn't matter how brilliant one is.Why do we get so worked up anyway,we ought to be used to it by now,after all the world has been this way for as long as i can remember.We play to the gallery.Of course the debate will keep the media around the world buzzing until they get the next big story.Lessons to be learnt early and if Obama award comes too soon,lets hope that he is man enough to understand that and up his time frames a bit.Sometime there are good things that come out of every situation.That will be the noble thing to do

The kitchen goddess

2009-09-28T07:19:00.000-07:00

Some days the whole mood is one of a rush hour kind of job,i am suddenly all motivated and ready to move but then again its almost always in the head and in dreams.We had the most wonderful beef fry for lunch,made by the mother who is a bit of a master chef.Now having lived with her almost all my life,its natural that i am her only student.Everyday we make the most ordinary but tasty food and everything is a memory of some sort.Chicken brings back my dad lessons on how to kill and dress a chicken.I was fascinated by the blood and gore but he believed that unless we dressed a chicken ourselves we would never appreciate its true taste.Like wise many other things come back to mind.Now the husband is a powerhouse of ideas so he insists that i write a book in collaboration with the mother.Is there an idea there,sometimes i think there is.After all if its interesting to someone like him (who hasn't the faintest idea of cooking) then there probably a big idea there.He insists that i need to do some research,write a recipe a day along with all the little bits that are interesting.Now is that how everyone starts,i honestly don't know but am truly tempted to give the idea a thought.It may change my life and my mothers.It may be interesting and if it doesn't become a book,it will still be on record long enough for me to become as good as my mother who is a kitchen goddess of sorts

Worshiping dependence

2009-08-14T05:36:00.000-07:00

Dependence,a trait we worship.In my family as in many other Indian families,this is considered a virtue.Parents believe its their birthright to be looked after by children,and children believe that parents are there to provide for everything.We are taught from an early age to be helpless,so none of us are taught to do all the basic household work,cook clean etc because there are servants to do it or as in the case of men,there are mothers and sisters to do all the dirty work.Which is why when we go abroad we are all at sea for a few months.In any of our cities,we will be forced to ask for directions,(there are no maps and signboards are not self explanatory)and we always look for human contact.What this does in the long run is to make us not take responsibility for our lives.Most woman will depend on parents and then on husbands and then on their children.Men will depend in quiet the same way.Now comes the big issue.Suddenly we find ourselves old and helpless(not in the physical sense).The children leave home and the parents are at a loose end,and then start all the medical problems,the loneliness and so on.My mother is a classic example.All her life she depended on my father despite all the grumbling of how bad a husband he was.Now she depends on me so my otherwise shrewd and intelligent mother will act completely helpless when she is out of the house.She will stare blankly at the doctor,refuse to tell him her symptoms or problems and generally act so stupid that I worry that she is loosing her mind.She will react slowly to my high decibel instructions and generally give me the jitters.Finally when we arrive home,the same woman will take control,her step will become more confident,she will get into the kitchen and cook a meal,and generally run the house.The long and short of it is that she really believes that all decisions outside of the kitchen (even if its related to her life) have to be made by me.I have been handed the responsibility and that's it.How different from another cousin who at 73 is busy winning medals at all senior citizen events,who plays tennis for two hours everyday and is generally as busy as any of us.Take for instance another lady who is currently in the hospital,very much in control of her life,despite having three children(who are not in the country) but who believes that she is quiet capable thank you very much.She has no choice so she has taken charge of her life.My mother is hardly a minority.There are so many woman like her in this country to whom dependence makes them old before their time,who set themselves up for disappointment,who refuse to take charge and believe there is life outside of the house,things to do after the husband passes on and a life to live again.Call it what you will but i find the whole set up sad and a waste of good human resources.But they cant be blamed either,our country is not geared to look after old people,we do not believe that they should have a life after 70 so we don't give them the infrastructure,or the emotional support to take charge.I look at ageing populations in the west and think we need to learn and learn fast.Youth will not be eternal

Giving it all up

2009-08-07T10:27:00.000-07:00

Its happened again,one of my friends of many years decided to give up a promising career and become a home bird.Her excuse….well she has moved on to the next phase in life.Most people think she is crazy to give it all up and in a city where you are defined by the company you keep,this couldn’t have been easy but it shows strength of character and courage.She is one in a line of many men and woman who have given up a corporate career after some twenty odd years,to either do something on their own or to just stop and smell the roses so to speak.Ofcourse everyone tells us that we will hate it after a while,that there are so many good years left etc etc.I ask myself if this is true and the answer is not in black and white.Infact the answer if there is one is all about what suits one at any given time.Do we lack ambition?.I doubt it.Infact I think we are so ambitious that we choose to pursue the things that matter in this life.We realise that quiet often life is lived in blocks,so we pass on as students to working people,to parenthood,marriage and all those many roles that some or all of us play.It brings a certain skill to each role,so at one point in life we work on all of them,we learn to multitask and run around like there is no tomorrow and that’s because these are the years when we can afford to do these things,when our energy levels are at their hightest,when all we think of is getting there and arriving in style.Then we get to our goals and we also realise that in life,there are moments to be enjoyed without looking over ones shoulder to other responsibilities,we have reached a certain position in our work life,we may have made some decent investments and packed off a bit for retirement but we haven’t reached that age as yet.We are too young to retire and too old to run around with fuel in our bellies.Now it’s a smouldering fire and like a slow roasted meal,we want to slow down,we need to do things at our pace,we need that freedom to decide what we want to do in the next stage.Its not easy to arrive at this point because the conveyor belt never stops.We need to know where to get off.Yes we do get bored,we do have our moments when we question it all but then again,we did that in the last phase too so nothings new.The roar has settled down and we smoulder with other need,other wants and other things to do.Some of us think we are giving it up for our children,or for out old parents,but lets not pretend,we really do it for our selves,we do it because some times in life the children and the old people become important for us.We do it because we feel a sense of responsibility,we also do it because at the end of the day it makes us better human beings,its gives us our new project,it revitalises out life and we do it because like all ambitious people we have to be in the thick of everything.We cant go through life just satisfied with one phase.This is who we are and this is why we give it all up when we feel the time is right for us.It takes courage but life is always lived best when we have the courage to follow our inner voices.This is dedicated to all those like minded people who did what I did and live to tell their tale.

Hermit....me?

2009-07-28T02:52:00.000-07:00

I am cut out to be a hermit or so I think.The point is that right now i am more than happy with the limited human contact that i have.It has its advantages.I don't have to dress up(as in wear nice formal clothes) comb my hair,wear makeup etc.I can lounge in baggy comfortable clothes and read my books,eat my meals and potter around in my half food balcony garden(where there is hardly any space for me to stand).

Unfortunately one cant live like a hermit in a big city and its only natural that from time to time visitors(uninvited and invited) do drop in.Today is one such day.The guest in question are not guests in that sense,they are close relatives except that one part of the family is of a different nationality.Now i have promised to provide dinner and then my problems began.The foreign part of the family cant handle too much spice,the children either so the green chillies have to be limited.However the large majority loves spice so what exactly am i to do.In the interests of good manners and good Indian hospitality we defer in favour of the minority so the food will be fairly bland,the house will be spruced up and the setting formal and there will be desert(never served in my house with any meal).

Which brings me to the next part of my thinking.We always manage to defer in favour of the minority and i cannot understand why.So when vegetarians come home for a meal we always ensure that no meat or fish is cooked at home for at least twenty four hours lest the smells upset them.When children come we pull out all the little things we have by way of entertainment(and we have very little as this house is child proof).We have chairs and sofas,when we would actually like cushions on the floor and mats,but we might have elderly people come over who would find it difficult to sit on the floor(the elderly we know cant even climb stairs so there is hardly a question of them visiting) and so on we go making concessions as we go along.Today is one of those days and i still cant figure why my house cant have that untidy but lived in look(after all they are family) and why do i have to look presentable and why do i have to bring out the best china.Actually if i ask myself that question....well no one asked me to do anything out of the ordinary but i choose to do it because somewhere there is an unwritten rule that says its must be done this way.....oh well this is where i wish i could be a hermit and be left alone....do i really?hmm its a thought

The Tube

2009-07-16T21:27:00.000-07:00

We grew up in a pretty simple world,not much competition and a simple childhood(we actually had a childhood).But by the time I got to be older the world had changed and become competitive,one had to have all kinds of skills to just survive.I always thought of myself as being pretty good with directions.I can find my way around most places and even if i get lost I will eventually return to the right place thanks to some questions to passers by.Unfortunately having lived in India all my life,I am used to asking people for directions so besides knowing that the sun rises in the east and sets in the west,i am pretty clueless on directions.Now god forbid the sun is high in the sky,then i would probably think south was north and west was east(and that would be pure guesswork).So there I was in England,expected to master the tube in a matter of minutes.To start with I had a tube map(everyone had one) which was sponsored by IKEA so the ad for the company was large and the map itself must have been one point size something.That is the first challenge.I wear reading glasses so they come on only when i need to read something which is maybe a book or two but certainly not every two minutes.So there I was hunting inside my out sized bag for glasses and the train arrives.I have no clue where the train goes so give it a miss.Now the one thing one must learn is directions.All tube trains are westbound or east bound etc(you get the picture).Well its pretty simple when one understands it but faced with the decision to go west or east and you had me in a fine pickle.Without the glasses,i couldn't find out the stations.And there are no people to ask,and if they do hang around they look rather surprised that such simple questions need to be asked.Now i must admit that there is a lot of information.One one gets to the station the routes are clearly printed on the board so its just a matter to getting oriented,except that in my panic the brain slows down and i loose all logic so search at random for my station and therefore my route.Once one is on the train they always announce the stations and the map is on the sides of the cabins also.Unfortunately we are not used to maps or directions,we are used to asking and talking.Finally i sat myself in the corner of the tube station,took ten deep breadths and found the glasses and the station,the route and the directions.I can tell you what a great sense of achievement I had just getting into the right train.It was a 30 minute journey and i couldn't share my happiness with anyone.Every passenger on the train is either wired to an iphone,and ipod or are buried deep in the pages of the london paper,the metro or some book.The silence is deafening.Finally I arrive at earls court station.Now here is the trick.This station is a place to change for the district line,the circle line and so on.Now the circle line is interesting,its a circle like its obvious so whatever ones destination,one will reach it either by the east bound or the west bound except that one route will take longer than the other.Basically its one big circle so the station one wants could be just anywhere on the circle(i like this line but it has limited usage).Now here i was having to change trains.My choice was two trains with just a stop away but i was standing there in this crowd and couldn't figure out which platform.(lots of changes at this station so its busy and everyone rushes around and it had loads of escalators and plenty of platforms).Now i cant deny that i am Indian so i look around(to hell with the map) and spot an old English man with a newspaper in hand.He could be my grandfathers age so i go up to him and ask for directions.Well he is rather sweet but no time to talk as there is a train getting ready to leave and he tells me its mine,so a quick thank you and i am off.One would imagine that that settled it.Well not quiet.Unfortunately I am challenged when it comes to following instructions.Secondly i have a mind like a sieve so nothing stays there.Now my friend of some 20 odd years know this well and she drew a map added telephone number,address etc and put that into my handbag some few days ago.Now once again after i arrive at the station,I realise that i know the road but this is england,and every house is identical. In India its easy enough to identify a house but here its like looking for a needle in a haystack unless one know the door number.I know that the house is a basement flat but so are all the flats.The wise thing would be to call but as luck (or is it just me) should have it my phone runs out of charge so cant call.The map(i had as is to be expected) had been forgotten so i didn't have the number,The phone booth was there but i didn't have the change and the queens currency is also in one point size so the search for glasses etc will happen,so i did the wise and Indian thing to do.I start walking.Now i know I am on the right road,i also know i have to pass one street(i remember this because its named after some chap in literature so i can recall).I cross that road and i also remember the house is on my left so i cross over to the left and then i stop.Now i am lost and this is england and this is central london and this is a residential area so there is not a soul around.But as luck would have it,one lone man came out of his house.So i go up to him and explain that my phone doest work and that i need to use his phone.He gives me a suspicious look (dark skinned woman demanding to use telephone,means danger at least in that country)makes sure i don't cross another step and gets the phone.Now i must admit that the man looked like a decent sort and i did hear a child yelling inside the flat which is why i choose to ask him.Finally the man smiled (he had reason to).I was standing a door away from my friends place and yes the man is question was their neighbour so after much thank yours,I ran into the friends flat.Think about it at the end of all this I did master the tube,I did learn to read a map and to know directions(I can only tell east or west in England)and best of all,my friend actually found out who her neighbour was(considering that in five years she hadn't a clue who he was).Now that's what i call learning...

Midsummer madness

2009-07-11T04:12:00.000-07:00

They say that ones holidays are defined by ones experiences.We always do things differently,not for us the packaged tours(we do do those occasionally) but we explore and wander and take in the place,which is what we did in England,except that we got a lot more than we bargained for.

Lets start with the heatwave.We went from 40 degrees in madras to escape to the so called cool of London and as we stepped out on to the London soil, we were happy to be there and glad to be so well prepared.Unfortuanately the English are not very well prepared for heat.We on the other hand had only never really seen the sun set so late either so we realised that long after the empire perished, the sun sets albeit late on Britain.

The heat wave saw some of the more adventurous brits take off as many clothes as was decently possible and lie in the sun,sadly for them,instead of a good tan they look more like overcooked lobsters.We on the other hand were being burnt to a cinder,despite the heavy load of sunblock lotion.So much for colour.The underground or tube,is not air conditioned and is designed to hold heat to keep the harsh winters at bay so in a heat wave it’s a slow roasting oven.No ventilation but the British don’t turn a hair.The bus drivers quiet like us,are so used to using heating that they forget to switch if off in a heat wave so baking continues(we do this with the air conditioner).Imagine 33 degrees in a country where the sun shines low.The sun can do funny things like heating up the cold engines so our bus packs up(the heat got the engine) somewhere in the countryside.We get a replacement double quick and in the time specified which is ten minutes(very efficient the British are and most apologetic that one cant be angry with them)The rules however are strict so the driver cannot work for a certain number of hours at a stretch so we are given a half hour tea break in order to make up some law that makes it legal for them to drive on.

We are by then impressed with the discipline and the punctuality of these people, and the fact that they always give you enough information or in some cases more, like for instance announcing every station before the train arrives, asking us to mind the gaps between the train and the platform (like we cant see) and one has to be rather stupid to get lost or do anything silly.

Just as we get used to the trains and buses running efficiently,our train to Scotland is announced but the air conditioning is not working,we groan collectively but the gods hear us and it cools down so things are not so bad.However on our way back the train is late by 35 minutes.Now we behave like true English people and get all hot and bothered at the delay.They of course apologise and try and make up the time until the driver decides to keep his window open and the flies get him(that’s the excuse when the train stops at York and refuses to move).Now we all know that flies don’t bite but well he is bitten and cant drive.We cant understand.If that was the case we would never drive a single day as we are constantly being bitten by mosquitoes in our country but this is England and despite his hands being free he is too traumatised by being attacked by flies.We are too surprised and the husband actually asks the guard if he can help drive the train(you see he is becoming rather English and offering his services)

Back to the tube and yes you guessed it,the trains are held up,the heat you see has got everyone and the engine hot and bothered so we wait and then the huge surge of people has us almost believing we are on a Bombay train and not the tube.Get off at station for bus home and there it is again,the bus is not on time,the temperature is still at 33 degrees and the island is literally going to pieces.This I believe is what is called midsummer madness and so we see this first hand.I should soon start to behave like the mad hatter in Alice in wonderland but that is another story.

London learnings

2009-07-11T04:11:00.000-07:00

It takes a holiday to end for one to realise what it all meant.For me it was a time of no responsibility,a time to see place that I had only read about.It was in someway like watching a movie after reading the book.Lovely but missing in some ways.Perhaps I ought to have refreshed my memories a bit,or even read up my literature or history before I left.Felt strangely inadequate.Its different when one is totally ignorant so the saying a little knowledge is a dangerous this couldn’t be more true.I had in effect forgotten almost all that I had read over the years.It came back to me when at oxford the guide recited “cats” and I realised that I knew the words.Or for that matter when the south African woman and I recited the “bells of London town” together and we both realised we had forgotten most of the words.

Then there was the traffic and the crowds.We took the car(a very unwise thing to do in London even on Sunday) and made our way from Ealing to Covent gardens.We reached Hammersmith and were stuck in traffic for an hour,we waited near a traffic light in from of Harrods for thirty minutes(thanks to some sri Lankan tamils protesting about something).In Indian by now tempers would have been on the boil,everyone would have cut lanes leading to bigger delays(who cares we just have to think about ourselves)and we would have been honking like there is no tomorrow.In Britain there is a deafening silence.Not a soul cut lanes.We waited patiently till our turn came to move(we are not british,very Indian),not once did we press the horn(there was no need to,everyone followed the rules).There were no pedestrians cutting across the road(I must confess we did it a couple of times in less traffic places)and no one swore at eachother.This is discipline,this is the quintessential English politeness that really gets me.The entire city is wired by camera,there is simply no question of breaking rules as the chances of getting caught with evidence is a hundred percent.Its part of their lives,they don’t question it.Could we do the same in India?.I think not.I tried it in a short trip of about a kilometre from my home and found that I could have killed a pedestrian, got hit by a bus and run over by a car (a bigger one than mine) and my hand had to be constantly on the horn.

Finally we arrive at Covent gardens.There are milling crowds but the only sound is that of the street performers.People talk in low voices and we automatically lower ours (the husband finds this a bit of a task but does so nevertheless).Not for them the shouting and yelling like some of us do.But then again there are more tourists than local people but we all fall in line.Its pretty amazing.

The English politeness is something else that gets me.Walk into any shop and be prepared to be greeted with “hello”.Its just one of those things,please and thank yous are also common place.Its nice to be so well mannered.The shop assistants are helfull,they don’t crowd you like they do in our country,one can shop at ones one pace and no one asks questions.If I did want clarifications they were all very well informed.I came to India and went shopping.No hello and when I did say thank you,I got stared at funny.So much for good manners.

The things I loved about England have to be, beautiful countryside, silent traffic and good manners.Just for that I could go back again and again.

History in a little time

2009-07-09T00:50:00.000-07:00

My dilemma about Scotland continued and I couldn't make up my mind if Edinburgh was important or if a whiskey tour was better.Having watch all the episodes of the thirsty traveller i was dying to do a whiskey tour(i cant stand the stuff and wont drink it if its the last drink standing) bu as i toss it around in my head(these tours are miles away and need planning) the husband(as usual) has taken the decision to see Edinburgh(not a bad decision as i was to find out)

We set off by the first train and by now there is a steady drizzle and we are richer by one umbrella bought at Wimbledon.By the time we reach Edinburgh the rain is pouring and the sky is dark.I am in heaven.This is what i came to england to see and thank god its happened.We step off the train and head for the tourist information,book ourselves on a hop on hop off tour and buy ourselves our next umbrella.All red tartan and all we are ready to hit town.I must say that when one reads harry potter,or Walter Scot or even Robert burns and sees this place....well,I could be the next J K Rowling if i stayed in this place believe me.Its old,quaint,spires,castles,palaces(one is larger than the other) and narrow cobbled streets.We set off to our first stop the hollyrood castle.Its small and was the home of Mary queen of Scots.Now that woman had style i must admit,with her french background and in a dreary place like this its not surprising that she warmed up the palace with her style and took on more men than any english queen would dare.So much for hot french blood that the poor thing was beheaded by non other than her pale english cousin.I must admit I have a soft spot for Mary.

Our next stop is the palace also belonging to Mary,but being used by the present queen.Much of the furniture is still there as are the tapestry and the dinner sets(i loved the bone china and the delicate flowers etc)The views from the windows are fabulous.The thing to note is that the beds are rather small,but i am guessing that they were meant to be that way.

The drive from the palace to our next stop is full of history.The present square is where public hangings were carried out,the grass market is full of tents selling all manner of things.The little pub where the harry potter series was penned is cashing in on the publicity.The writes corner has many writers that one has read in the past.The whiskey shops are a dime a dozen offering a whiskey experience(total rip off which we realised just in time).The many posh places are full of history so we have the many places that provide food for the palace and which the queen endorses as we have pubs and taverns that date back to hundreds of years ago.The whole place looks like a medieval city with the modern world having passed it by and therein lies its charm.Our last stop is the royal yacht Britannia.The venue for many of the queens travels and the many honeymoons of now defunct marriages,this is one a museum and so well kept its truly a must visit.On three levels,it is filled with stuff of the royal family and the walk on the deck with the sea flowing by makes one feel that the ship is actually moving.As always i simply had to use the royal toilet so that done(i could write a thesis on english toilets by the end of my visit)we head out to the mall and look around and head back to stirling.We haven't done many things like the underground walk,the ghost walk etc but we have just one day and had to be happy with the main attractions.And by now i am in love with Scotland

Cricket,beer and me

2009-07-09T00:24:00.000-07:00

Cricket and more cricket,so we pack up with all manner of gear and set off to Dundee to play a league match.It takes us a good hour to reach the place and i soak in Scottish countryside.Here the sheep are in abundance and thank god the english weather is back so its a dry day,slightly sunny and fluffy clouds all around.Of course by the time we reach the place the sun is shining again and the field is just right for a good game of cricket.

Everyone is very impressed that we have travelled all the way to see our friend play a match.Now we were not about to tell them otherwise.I have seen more cricket in england than i have in my entire life but for once i wont complain.The pitch is a lovely green carpet and the grass is soft and think underfoot.The club house is old fashioned but again it did have a ladies changing room.For a small town cricket field,it was rather impressive.In deference to our presence our friend has been pushed up the batting order and in true blue indian style,the boy was off to a good start.By the end of the innings he has notched up 83 runs and was quiet the toast of the team.The sidelights of all this(which i what i am watching,considering i cant understand a silly point when it looks me in the face)is that the team itself is all local boys,some as young as twelve.The young one are fascinated by us and are full of questions,are we are friends parents is the first one.Not to take offence of course considering that a lot of Britain has mothers in their 18s,this was an innocent question.Of course i promptly put the persons age down to 15 and was right though he did try very hard to act 25.With his freckled face he reminded me so much of fatty in the enid blyton series.A Scottish man of some 60 odd years regaled us with stories of local personalities and some stories out of school of our friend,and strangely he and i agreed on many points concerning the friend.The scottish accent takes a bit of getting used to but after a couple of minutes(and after missing a few jokes) i cottoned on to what was being said.Called badger,he swore he was a dying breed(i cant agree with him more) and did mention that badgers were protected in Scotland.He went on to tell me of interesting night walks and Scottish whiskey trails,till he had me in two minds about what to do in scotland.That said we went off in search of food.As always we had worked up an appetite by the time food was found(unlike the english we had no intention of filling our stomachs with beer,ale and stout)One lone place actually had food and we were too tired to look further afield and settled in to eat.The husband ordered a pizza(very wise thing to do).I needed some meat so settled for spaghetti with something which resembled boiled beef mince.Cant say much of how it tasted(i can swear that the english can put the most die hard meat eater,off meat for live by the way they murder the dishes).I didn't earn brownie points when i asked for chille sauce and insisted on adding more salt in a vain attempt to add some flavour to the dish.The chef came out and frowned but i had no intention of bowing to pressure and told him how i thought it ought to be made.lets face it I could have dished up the same thing in a much better way,so much for so called english food.

Back to the match where in our absence our friend has excelled himself and the tea break is on.Chocolate and loads of cream later i wonder how they manage to run between wickets and dive for the ball(please not my acquired cricket jargon)This time on our friend has taken three wickets and the sun is beating down.By now i am ready to sleep so unlike the good English who insist on taking off their clothes and sun bathing on the grass,i head for the nearest tree and shade,lie of the grass and go to sleep.By the time i am woken up the match is over and the friends team has won.Oh no yet another pub crawl and i am not wrong.We all head off to the local to get everyone a round of beers(bad manners not to get a few beers down after winning a match).The husband and i are in no mood to be drinking at that time of the afternoon.I could kill for a cup of tea but manners being manners i gulp down the stuff all smiles and good cheer on my face and we head home to stirling.We cant face another pub or another beer and the husband is now having withdrawal symptoms for indian food so we head off to "ranas".Nice place but try eating indian english food(beggars cant be choosers )and one will realise that there is very little difference between chicken and veggie gravy(i suspect its the same with a few pieces of chicken thrown in).This time i am too tired to put on my purist hat and let it pass.By the time we walk to our B&B,the food is digested and we are ready to sleep and so another day passes.

The woods are lovely dark and deep

2009-07-07T08:41:00.000-07:00

Much as i dislike cricket,it looks like there is no getting away from it,so on a Saturday morning after a breakfast like a king(sausages,bacon,eggs,fruit,tea,cereal,yogurt etc etc) we are scheduled to go off to Dundee to see our friend play in a league match.I decide to take a walk and see some of the place,as even i with my limited knowledge of cricket,know that this is a full day affair and i will be the lone woman there.My walk takes me off to a secluded part of the town close to our place of stay.The road houses a gallery and suddenly takes off into a dark wood.As i walk along the trees become more dense and the light fades.Bang in the middle of the city i am in a wood with birds chirping and bunny rabbits jumping around.Now i have not seen bunnies other than in cages so i stop in my tracks to watch them.Just as the books mention,a family comes along with their dog and very soon its a free for all.The rabbits are down into their holes quick as ever and the dog is busy trying to get them out.I watch enid blyton in live action.Unfortunately the cricket match beckons so I hurry alone back to the place i came from,delighted nevertheless at seeing all of this in that one moment in a walk that took me just a hundred yards away.

culinery charms

2009-07-06T13:37:00.000-07:00

I had made a promise to my friend that the moment I came to london i would cook her a good dinner with all her favourite foods,in return she had to introduce me to significant persons in her life(i am an old aunt when it comes to matchmaking and am dying to get my friend hitched to some nice english man but am having no success).We agreed to do this but as luck would have it we didn't get time.Of course I decided that girl friends are important in any woman's life and that one weekend i ditched the husband to go and spend time at her place.Of course we had managed to do dinner with her one evening at which some good old sambar and vegetables were served and the husband swore he would do anything to continue eating at her place during our stay in london(i call this brahmin bonding,they being from similar backgrounds where food atleast is concerned).That Saturday we started with the shepherds bush market,where the fish was exactly the way i wanted it.Then as luck would have it we got ourselves some raw bananas which were so huge i had to buy them.We were invited to lunch at a rather swish place in kensington so we landed up there.Italian,french and a good english dandy are all vital ingredients to a good lunch and as the afternoon passed us by I chatted up a rather interesting woman who had spent a good deal of her time in Edinburgh.She made it a point to write down all that i had to do while in Scotland.I was to discover how posh she was when i actually took up her advice on eating places.The witchery was recommended and thanks to good traditions here the menu is placed outside so we can take a look.This had me flying to the nearest pub as there was nothing less than 20 pounds at the place.How posh I didnt realise until I went abode the Britannia to find that the queen ordered her food from this very place.So much for posh,but there we are in the middle of it all.The Italians owned the art gallery(now we all know that that is serious money ) so i sneaked a look at the price tag.In kensington home to kings,queens and minor royalty I ought to have expected it.The least expensive painting was 6,500 pounds.Hmm i mumbled a bit about indian art and sank in silence and ate the food with much relish.For the rest of the afternoon I watched how the other side lives.Much kissing and shaking of hands later,we were back to our kitchen(also in posh central london).Two hours later i had dished up my mothers fish curry,her banana skin porial,chips,fish fry and something else which even i cant remember.All done,our guest arrived.Art dealers,interior designers etc.The bottom line ofcourse is that what passes as indian food is very different from home cooked authentic recipes.Everyone took a second helping but I wasn't sure.

My friend however tells me that she has now got a guest list that includes some others who have since heard about my cooking and as my friend says,the cooking standards of Sinclair road have gone up as have the expectations of her various friends.In addition I have got a huge ego massage at the many compliments that have come my way ...so much for chocolate skin and curly hair.I must admit that while all of london is smothered in sun tan lotion and lying on the grass,we and people like me are diving for cover.Well I guess as much as we find fair skin beautiful,they find chocolate delightful....so much for the london cooking experience.I have promised my friend I shall be back in her kitchen the moment i make enough money for another london trip and should i poor mother hear of this....but whos to tell.

Scotfree in scotland

2009-07-06T10:45:00.000-07:00

Some three weeks into the tail end of the holiday and i have lost track of time and place.Thanks to being non connected,(i promised myself that the blog would be updated and i wouldn't loose track but man proposes and countries think otherwise).In anycase I have decided to continue the london blog long after reaching home as memories have a knack of coming back.All said,after some two weeks of floating around london we were beginning to tire of the city so very much like the london trip(which came about thanks to a casual facebook conversation),we touched base with a friend in Scotland and decided to take a trip there for the weekend.He isn't the most reliable person(at least that was my last memory of him some nine years ago) but we decided we had nothing to loose.We booked ourselves on the train(expensive).Having seen the length and breadth of london from six feet under,we decided that this was our last chance to enjoy the view and the breathtaking landscape of the english countryside.We were not disappointed.The kings cross station reminds me very much of harry potter and the bustle to catch the train and we get in and set off on our long five hour journey to scotland.As London flies past and we leave the city behind the landscape changes.The heatwave has suddenly taken a back seat.The greens rush along in its many colours,the little villages look like a child's toy room with little houses and their individual gardens,sloping roofs with chimneys(i remember the song from my fair lady of the chimney sweep,though these have long been out of use in this country).The cars in the driveways look like they have been placed neatly there.Everywhere we see little villages and hardly any people.Brown and white and black and white cows graze or doze in the lazy afternoon sun while woolly sheep follow each other aimlessly along the meadows.We reach Newcastle and we look out for the coal mines but all we see is a pretty majestic bridge over the river.The town itself is like all others,Stone houses,village green,church spires and sunny blue skies.Our next stop is york.Once again we see the villages of england but this time all of Jane's Harriot comes alive.When he talks of all the animals he sees on the farms around Yorkshire and the times when he just sits on the grass to watch the beautiful landscapes and scenery,I know exactly what he feels like.Ofcourse like always i try to share my experience with the husband who promptly tells me that all he knows of Yorkshire is Geoffry boycott and there ends the conversation.Of course a village cricket match is on on one of the many greens(all village pitches will put our best stadiums to shame)and that has the husband craning his next to get a look.We see many people bowling on the greens and tennis matches are on in almost all the villages.This being summer everyone is out in strength.We pass the Edinburgh station and get off at the small town of stirling.Its pouring cats and dogs,but a wise investment at wimbledon by way of an umbrella comes in handy.Finally we see the famed englsih rain and needless to say I am delighted.The earth smells fresh,the flowers droop with the heaviness of the rain and the grass is fresh and wet under our feet.Strangely nothing stirs in stirling.This small town is a delightful place.A short walk from the station,we arrive at our bed and breakfast place.Large stone bungalows set around a village green.The streets are empty.We are in a nice residential area and the smell of inherited wealth is in the air.The homes are all at the very least a hundred years old.A large carpeted staircase leads us to our room.Its perfect.Large casement windows and a bed with all the frills and fluffiness of an english country house.Heavy curtains keep out the sun and white lace ones hang behind.We leave almost at once after we check in.The surrounding are too good to be seen from a bed and breakfast room so we dash off in the direction of the town.Our friend having been here for eight years,is a bit of a veteran and most locals acknowledge him so we are in good hands.The Scots themselves are a friendly lot and a quick to make friends.This being a friday evening the pubs are spilling our with people.Beer flows freely as does much mirth and fun.I decide that asking for wine in a pub would be politically incorrect so ask instead for an ale.I haven't the faintest idea what this will taste like but i had no intentions of drinking beer either(i don't like the stuff).Unfortunately by now i also know that this is no easy task,but I have learnt.Some three odd glases of different varieties of drinks are placed before me.I try all of them convinced that the cold(by now there is a nip in the air) will prevent me from getting totally drunk(which may be fine by Scottish standards)and I settle for something.Small glass is provided and i gulp down the stuff like a veteran.All the literature that told me of a quick ale over some deal or the other in pubs in all those classics,made me feel like bill skyes himself.Food unfortunately doesn't figure in the scotish pub so we have to look elsewhere.Food is a completely different subject and has to be dealt with differently so we get back to our room,in a mad rush to the loo(all that beer has only one way to go).Much walking involved and the nip has become a chill but like all english homes the room itself is warm and I soon have half my body out of a window(this has the husband in a fit as he is convinced that i shall fall out on to the street,and i am still not sure if he is worried about disgrace or death but could be wither)gulping in cold air and looking wistfully at the many lovely dogs that walk by.The dog subject being a strict no no,we don't venture that way.Its almost eleven at night but its pretty bright outside.I am very tempted to take a walk but don't dare and so our first day in Scotland passes.

At home in southall

2009-07-02T01:03:00.000-07:00

If back in india one mentioned that one lived in London,it would amount to being a big deal.I thought so myself.Living abroad meant so many things as far as i was concerned.Different food,different homes and in england it comes with the bonus of garden and beautiful weather.But having come here I find that the beautiful and unpredictable weather is non existant.Its predictible and hot hot hot.Food ...well englsih food is now curry and rice so its not very different either.As for living,yes the houses are nice and they do have gardens and small streets with trees and dogs walking around.Beautiful parks and endless green.Unfortunately some of us Indians cant live without our Indian customs.Not a bad thing at all but I am of the firm belief that if one lives in a foreign country one must adapt and mingle and integrate.To be treated differently is also because we don't behave like Romans in Rome.

Talk for instance southall.It India in England.When we asked our friend what he wanted from India he said nothing really because ever thing is available here.I didn't quiet believe him until he took me to the supermarket in southall.To start with the signposts are written in Punjabi.Then there are a dime a dozen women in salwar kameez or sarees(considering that the one s who come on holiday don't wear sarees this is interesting).The supermarket itself had every possible item on any Indian menu.So dhals,rice,oils masalas everything except that here there is the added advantage of getting Pakistani and Bangladeshi stuff.The place even has cookers,tavas and whatever else one would want to be indian.Here one does not need to know english,despite being in England.Here there is a strange absence of the local people and one would be forgiven if one thought that one was in punjab instead of a suburb of London.

so much for being in holiday in england,there are so many asians here that it doesn't feel foreign,the language is not new but yes it may have been interesting if i knew hindi.The husband is getting good deals thanks to his hindi while i am being given dirty looks....not knowing hindi is a disadvantage especially in southall.

It does have its advantages though,in terms of never being home sick and all that but i cant help but wonder why the Indians choose this far off suburb to set up shop.The chinese chose the heart of London and the centre of all the fun and poshness.The muslims have their biggest mosque in the heart of regents park,another posh area,but we choose to be in a small suburb that's poorer than most......says something doesn't it.

Wimbledon and tennis

2009-07-01T11:00:00.000-07:00

If anyone thought that Wimbledon was about tennis,then think again..Its a big circular stadium but the fun is all outside.Yes the centre court and court no 1 are the main attractions and our tickets dont give us access to these places but it all starts with the queueing book.This is a first for me and its a 40 odd page book on queueing etiquette.The English are a strange lot so the que starts from the moment we get in and includes such things as loo ques and food ques and shop ques.The thing is they are so pucca about it all.Much please and thank yous go on and everyone is so polite that it would be impolite to refuse to que.And so our day starts and with book in hand we set off on our adventure.
The food stalls are a dime a dozen so there are food villages,the fancy wingfield restaurant which can only be used with reservations,the aorangi cafe which is a piggy place and serves all things pork.But the biggest marketing con job has to be the strawberries and cream.Like all pilgrims to Wimbledon we stand (please note in que) for this much sort after dish without which no Wimbledon experience is complete.Everyone has told us that we can be forgiven for not watching a match at Wimbledon but to not eat strawberries and cream would be sacrilege,so we get our bowlful and let me tell everyone (at the risk of being branded a heretic) that this is just plain strawberries (not even as large as the tesco or sainsbury ones) served in a bowl of watery cream(yes its not whipped nor is it thick).After all the clotted cream we have been eating this is of course a huge let down.I still haven't researched why this is such a big draw but one must hand it to the organizers that this one single dish has created so much drama....my advice....skip it....but i know no first timer will do that...it requires guts to say that one has skipped this so called dream dish.Personally i would settle for the pizza(i would normally be up in arms on this one,but there is something called necessity) as the other choices are all bread bread and more bread,of course some pasta salad is available but then again....
So did someone mention tennis?.Yes we did manage after all that to end up on a crowded lawn(after all this is about lawn tennis) and strained our necks to see a large screen tv,and then we left.There are tickets available if one is willing to stand in 33 degree heat in a que but considering almost half my sun block lotion had been used by in the trip around the lawns,this seemed a waste of time.
After all that tennis and cream and fruit and a life time dream fulfilled,we were off to kew gardens.Me personally to sleep under a tree and cool off but as luck would have it,it was closed and we have to keep that for another day.
Just for the record,I like a true Indian,did manage to get to the loo without waiting in que as i did for a lot of other things at Wimbledon but yes it is an experience that one has to have as one of the many things one does before dying.

Shakespear and learning

2009-07-01T02:39:00.000-07:00

Another early morning run to Victoria to catch the bus for our next tour.This time its educational,so we set off and are out of London(by now we know the route rather well,thanks to endless trips on the tube) and the landscape changes at once.Lush green meadows,dotted with dark green trees,some with red leaves and miles and miles of green of every hue.The sky is clear blue and the sun shines on yet another summers day in England.Our first stop is the small town of oxford and its many universities.We arrive at Christ college and are truly impressed.Its a religious experience(the college looks like a church)and the corridors are cool and shady.The few students around whizz past us on cycles and don't look at all the kind that are the brainy kind,but i guess they are.The dining room at Christ church is set for lunch and this is the hall that inspired the setting of Hogwarts school in the harry potter series and one can almost see the sorting hat doing its rounds.But the significant part is that Alice in wonderland was thought up here.The many greens in the campus almost makes one want to get at studies again.In a class of five or less students and in an environment of such peace,its not surprising that some of the best known scholars were from here.Our guide recites T S Eliot's poems on cats and i am charmed as it all comes back to me.The college next door produced this great writer and some chubby cat on campus was the inspiration behind cats.

We visit the many shops around the place and set off to the Cotswold,the most charming part of England.With its biscuit box houses,little gardens and rolling hills dotted with lazy cows grazing on the fresh green grass,the little woolly sheep also sunning themselves in the sun,all adds to that feeling of being in a green country unspoilt by the hustle and bustle of London.We stop at the Cotswold's arms,a pub where we are to have lunch but we skip to another place.Local oldies are having their many afternoon drinks and are chatting about the latest village gossip so we sit down to eat yet another mountain of potatoes(i am baning this vegetable from my house for a long time to come).

Stuffed to the gills,we wind our way over to Ann Hathaway's cottage a few miles down the road.This is a place i have been waiting for.Charming would be an understatement.This thatched roof cottage has an amazing garden and the sent of sweet peas are so heady that I stop to sniff at all of them.The variety is mind boggling.The vegetable garden is equally amazing as the cabbages and cauliflowers are so different.Purple cauliflower and with individual florets,this is interesting.The trees all have little quotes from Shakespeare plays and the artichokes are large and purple.

Our bus packs up thanks to the heat so i go back to the cottage and lounge on the lawns(this being my favourite pass time in England).

We arrive at Standford on Avon and are greeted by the fool(a large statue of one of the most essential characters in Shakespeare plays).We walk into the house where Shakespeare was born,marvel at the furniture and the house itself and then meet characters from his plays,who actually lapse into some lines from the plays themselves.The town is all about Shakespeare so every shop is full of him.But my favourite is the Christmas shop which is almost like Santa's workshop with a chubby little man who is more than ready to talk.We also go to the witches shop and there like in Macbeth there is the cauldron which is doubling and troubling for all its worth.The shop is full of spells that one can buy but with my watchdog around its impossible to buy any spell(there are quiet a few i would have liked to buy and some people that i would like to cast them on).

We are by now having withdrawal symptoms on tea so we stop for cream tea(scones with clotted cream,jam and a pot of tea).There are enough dogs around for me to play with and i meet spaniels,terriers and all kinds of English dogs.Finally our day is over and we drive back through the country side and back to London.We get off at notting hill gate and walk through the lovely houses and then get swallowed up by the tube on our way back home.

Roses and swans

2009-06-29T14:46:00.000-07:00

Roses,swans ducks,boats and miles and miles of green,large lakes and ponds....no i am not in some fairytale land....I am in regents park bang in the middle of busy crossroads and intersections but once inside the park,all is peace and quiet.How do they do it.The place is clean and neat and the flowers are a riot of colour.Flowers and beautiful trees are matched only by the brown bushy tailed squirrel and the birds who all walk across the paths like they own the place(i suspect they do).The summer heat lessens in this park and we walk slowly along the waterway to the rose garden.I have never seen roses of such color or size.The heady sent get me going on and on.I cant have enough of it.The easy chairs are out on the lawns and the green is endless.I can spend whole days just being here sitting on the park bench reading a book or newspaper,but unfortunately I cant so i settle for the grass.I flop on the soft green grass and i am instantly under its spell.I cannot get up,I want to stay there to watch the stars come out,I want to go to sleep and not wake up in a hot bedroom ..in short i simply want to stay in the park.I would have liked to be a goblin or an elf living there but the clock chimes and Cinderella's chariot will turn back into a pumpkin so I am off to catch the tube and head for home

cricket

2009-06-29T14:36:00.000-07:00

The only real competitor to my marriage is cricket.Honestly I loose the husband to hours and hours of this game so its not surprising that i have never been inside of a cricket stadium and had no intentions of going either.But Lords is another ball game all together.This is where the famous ashes is played,this is a playground of legends and to come to London and not see Lords would be rather sad.As usual we arrive late and the last tour has left,but do we need a tour,of course not.So we get tickets and walk into the stadium to watch a cricket match and for once,I have no complaints.Here is a ground that is emerald green,beautifully cut and truly historic.The old part which has the old English pavilion,sits well with the new media house across the ground,but the beauty of the ground is the pitch,the little picket fences around it and the fact that the fence is so low that the game can be enjoyed in all its funny ways.We sit and watch while the blue skies and the green ground lull us into a nice relaxed afternoon feeling.We get to see a four a six and a clean bowled but we don't see anyone getting a catch.At a ground like this even someone like me would enjoy cricket.Well so much for that.I always do this,if my first impression has to be good,it simply had to be made on the holiest of hollies of any game,legend,history etc etc

Its hot hot hot

2009-06-29T14:20:00.000-07:00

We have been in England for over a week now and i remember the advice that we got from various sources.....umbrella(it rains in London) light sweater(it will turn cold in London)jacket(for the same reason and it may get windy)walking shoes(lots to walk about)Except for the last piece of advice,I decided to ignore the rest.Unfortunately summer heat and I go together so if i decided to holiday in the north pole the world may see another flood the kind Noah had to live with as all the ice would melt the moment i arrive.What it is about me is beyond belief.We arrive to pleasant weather,which is around 20 degrees and slowly rises as the days go by.Today the heat wave warning is on.Of course everyone who lives here tells me that it will rain(English weather has a knack of correcting itself.)..ha i am yet to see rain.My sunblock location is down to half,the shops are full of sun protection creams,people are being advised to drink a lot of water and this is exactly what i was trying to run away from.So i suffer in silence as i melt in the tube,and suffer in silence in a room that is designed to hold heat and that makes it so hot its impossible to sleep.The umbrella came out today but no ...not for the reasons the English use it for.,I used it to shade myself from the sun which has no sign of letting up.This is no English summer,this is an Indian summer in all its splendor.Funny that three years ago I had the same experience in Europe.Sweltering heat had me sitting in bathtubs filled with colder water and running to hide under trees.This time the sunblock lotion protects but all my geography and studies on climates of Europe and England have all gone for a toss.Some 25 off years after leaving school i now know that the textbooks are not to be believed.There are no cool places on this earth.Despite being an island and having some of the biggest green spaces in the world right in the middle of the city,this is a seriously hot place and about time they found air conditioning.Today i spent some happy hours in the meat section of Salisbury's as the place was cold and I wandered around from one aisle to the other pretending to buy met when all i was up to was to stay with the cold.I shall do so everyday now,the best place in London is the meat sections of the supermarket.After all beefy me needs to cool off too.

All things great and small

2009-06-29T14:00:00.000-07:00

Finally we made it on time to Westminster abbey and not for service but to see the place.On a normal day,its a beautiful church and a great place to hide actually.There are so many passages,rooms and private chapels that one could get lost.If I were a priest who had had a bit too much of the communion wine,this may be just the place to get lost in.The church suddenly gives way to a beautiful lawn and flowers and park benches.In this country donating park benches seems to be a great pass time.Besides the ornate gravestones,there are many park benches donated by friends and family in remembrance.
The abbey itself is so full of history that one should shore up on English history to enjoy it to its fullest extent,but the poets corner got me all excited.Its wonderful when one recognises all the people mentioned there and actually know their works.Suddenly it all comes alive.Some surprises also as I never expected D H Lawrence to get a mention there considering the poor man had all his books banned in his life time.Two famous film personalities were also there and considering they were both my favourites,the abbey visit was worth the money and time.
We then walked to the one place I was in danger of missing completely.The Buckingham palace.Was I impressed,well yes,its a magnificent place but to live there and not be able to amble along to st Jame's park,green park and Hyde park is a real waste.The gates and place of course look unlived in but the mall in front is so impressive as was the royal coach that came along horse drawn and all.I couldn't see who was in but it was an experience.Our walk then took us to green park and all that walking made us flop onto the grass and take 40 winks.The poor queen,on a real hot day in London a walk in the park would do her poor old bones a lot of good.How sad to have all that around you and to not be able to use it except when she is one display.I did look at the windows and wonder if she did look from behind her curtains and long to be out there with us.
We then walked down the road to Clarence house.The prince and his wife live there (or at least i think so)and for once all the window were open and there was a sense of lived in feel.One ceremonial guard had us stop to take pictures while he marched endlessly up and down.Rather a dull job one would think except for folks like us who take photos.
By now we have reached the end of the road and are almost in Trafalgar square,so we step into st martins in the field.I cant remember what the bells of st martins is supposed to say but by this time a friend of mine is frantic to reach us as we have promised to see her at dinner and the husband is complaining loudly of his too frequent visits to churches and I am trying to keep all sides happy.St martins has a music concert on and the crypt has a coffee shop and a regular shop.If churches in our country had these it may have been interesting.All the famous churches in this country comes equipped with amenities and I am surprised that they are not full.However the thing to notice is of course the manner in which its all done .No fuss and no intrusion.Finally its around six in the evening but looking like four and the sun is beating down so we call it a day....royalty,religion and sunshine can all be rather tiring when its all in one day....

Leeds,dover and canterburry

2009-06-26T15:16:00.000-07:00

This morning the rain threatened to make an appearance and I waited eagerly,took the umbrella out and set out to Victoria.It drizzled and stoped and there was that wonderful nip in the air.Finally some English weather and i rejoiced,but as luck would have it the sun was back and shinning.Nevertheless it seemed a glorious day for an outing,so with sandwiches and fruit in our bags we left for our trip.Our bus arrived a minute ahead of us so we ran(after ages,the old bones protested).The tube was also early(or rather we were late) so another mad run to get in.The one thing about the tube is that it gets stuffy and hot.I cant imagine why everyone wears sweaters and jackets as i am pouring with sweat and feeling stuffy.Our day hasn't started too well and once we are in Victoria we manage to get lost and find our way again in a brisk walk convinced we are late.We arrive at the bus station and have to wait for 45 minutes for the tour to start.By this time the heat is getting to me(unlike fans and air conditioning,the English have heaters so when it gets this hot,its impossible to handle)The bus is air conditioned(or so they claim) but it doesn't help but we are on our way to Leeds to see a castle.Once again large tracts of green fields and lush trees give us our taste for the English countryside.The Leeds castle is marketed as the most beautiful castle in the world(and considering that about 90 percent of castles are in England i am sure they are right in their claim).Our guide today is an oxford educated lawyer(or so he claims) who is a freelance travel guide.On the way to the castle he talks in welsh and asks if we can identify the language(confident that after the same routine on many trips,no one has guessed right)He is a bit put out by the fact that i get it right the first time and is dying to know how i figured it out.Well so much for that.The Leeds castle is very livable.The grounds around the place are beautiful with grass,trees and lakes.Black swans,ducks and peacocks run freely around the place and flowers of every colour and size bloom in the hot summer sunshine.The views from every window is so soothing that one could just sit and do nothing.The castle has a very lived in feel about it and not surprising as the last owner was an Anglo American who -thank god for small mercies-left a will saying that the place couldn't be made into a hotel or broken down.The is a lot of modernity but the old world charm remains.The owner also had a fascination for birds and got many varieties to come over.
Our next stop is Dover.My only connection with Dover is the song by Jim Reeves where he says'there will be blue birds over the white cliffs of Dover' and I always thought he meant snow.By now its raining and i am sure its going to wash our our trip(finally English rain).The mist comes down rapidly but we brave the rain and the mist and walk down the pebbled beach to see the English channel.On a bright day we could have seen chalis but not today.I have by now decided that the souvenir shops in England leave a lot to be desired so all my souvenirs are from the land.I pick three perfectly formed blue pebbles as a reminder that i was in Dover and though i didn't see any blue birds,I did see the white cliffs(all made of chalk) and a photograph to remind me of the lapping waters of the English channel.
We leave to go on to Canterbury.Again my connection with this church comes thanks to an elder sister who read TS Eliot and insisted on telling me the story of Thomas Becket and his murder in the cathedral.The church itself is magnificent.The number of little chapels and naves can be pretty confusing but despite the little shops and cafes in the churches in this country,they remain places of calm and peace.This being the seat of English Christianity,naturally is interesting and considering that the archbishop is the head of the church of England is also an interesting fact.Not the archbishop of Westminster.We have a hearty meal of fish and chips and our guide tells us that the fish is always caught fresh from the English channel.The fish being cod,I am delighted to be tasting it,as the nearest i have ever gotten to cod has come by way of cod liver oil capsules that I was made to take for many years of my life.A rather bland fish but nothing that a good dash of chillie sauce couldn't perk up.
Our last stop is Greenwich and we stop at a little village that has more green than people or houses.We take a long walk across the park and there are people selling ice creams of the strangest colours but i don't indulge.The best part about these parks and public places is that they all have well appointed toilets and they are clean.Our walk across Greenwich park takes us to the observatory and like all tourists we take our picture with each foot on either side of the longitude line.This done we get a panoramic view of London and a short walk away is our speed boat waiting.The ride on the Thames is fast and furious but i am more fascinated by a jack Russell pup that has come along with its owner for the ride.The owner unfortunately looked the rough kind and with more beer than he could handle,I didn't riskplaying with his dog.Finally we are home,but not before I forgot the way and had the husband in a fine fettle about all thing that one needs to be aware of etc etc.I did muddle along and find the right bus stop to get off at and the way home so despite the fuss,all wells that ends well.
Finally I must say that despite all the fun I am having,I cant help but feel sorry about Micheal Jackson dying.For me its not about the scandals,its not about his looks that have changed over the years.For me its about a child who was pushed into something that was too much too soon and who despite his great music and entertainment sense,was at the heart a little boy who lost his way and didn't know how to handle it all.Tragic but true and today I pray that we can enjoy his music as a tribute to a once great man who despite his 50 years remained relevant to all generations.This truly is greatness. and so goodnight.

Windsor,bath and stonehenge

2009-06-24T16:02:00.000-07:00

Almost five days in London and not having done much we decide its time to take a break from the city and head out.We decide to check out the famed English country side.Poets,fiction writers and Enid Blyton together have created this image in our minds of rolling hills,green meadows,glens and dales.

An early morning start sees us at Victoria coach station(not the horse and carriage variety,rather the Volvo kind)Our guide for the day thank god is English(not eastern European,Indian or Thai)and considering I have had to hunt for an English person in London's mixed up community,this is a big bonus.He is very English,good humour and good manners keeps us going on our trip outside the city.Our first stop is Windsor castle,the home of the current queen and many before her who choose to escape the atmospher of London(and who can blame them).The country side is calming and even the one a minute plane that fly over cant dampen my happiness at seeing such a variety of green.The sun shines brightly on yet another glorious day and we approach Windsor.The castle like something out of a fairy tale rises up from its green surroundings.We start our tour and marvel at the many state rooms.I am fascinated at the number of valuable Rubens and van dyke's that are on display.What wouldn't i give to have just on of those hanging on my home walls(but I am no queen,even if I choose to be one in my own small way).The room dedicated to crockery and china has me spell bound.The delicate flowers,the pretty shapes of the dinner service has me wanting more.The relief on the dining room walls are all on food,fish,turkey fruits everything to give one a healthy appetite.The queen Marys dolls house of a sight for sore eyes.To think that every painter worth his while gave his best works in miniature as did authors.The dolls house is a must see,for its attention to detail and it beauty.How marvelous to have a hobby that could be indulged in (but to be fair to the queen she was letting us share).We move over to see the changing of the guards.All the pomp and pageantry of the English court is very much there and we watch in awe.The mascot however seems a little under the weather(he is a six month old dog of some strange English breed).Besides the show itself I am taken in once again by British humour.The guards and the police crack jokes with us,tell us that the dog will have us for breakfast or that we could be in danger of being shot for walking the lawns.The police officer who tells us that he has never raised his voice and we have made him do so....its all done with a cheery sense of fun besides keeping order.I think of a similar situation in my country and sigh.This is so unique to the British and i am enjoying the fun.

We move over now to Bath(after one heart stopping moment when I almost lost my bag thanks to forgetting it in a shop)and this quaint city is circular,dominated by the bath abbey and the roman hot springs.We walk around the bath itself but i decide to take in some literature so we make a quick visit to the Jane Austen centre.We don't have time for a tour but a character from Pride and Prejudice is there so we pose for a snap(thankfully he is a character I like,had it been Mr Darcy I may have had second thoughts)We stop to eat scones,jam and clotted cream which is fantastic despite being churned out by a french man.We wash it down with earl grey and continue to take photographs of the river with its lawns filled with families on picnics.We also meet a Pakistani fellow traveller who takes a picture for us and the husband and he quickly fall into conversation on cricket and the Pakistani victory in the world cup.I wish we could all be so friendly but that's another story.

Our next stop is Stonehenge but not before a two hour trip that takes us through the quaint villages of the Cotswold's.This beautiful part of England is full of picture postcard cottages that are so pretty one cant imagine living there.All of them look like dolls houses and the roses are huge and climbing in a riot of colour.Soon we leave this patch of woods and head towards open country and approach Stonehenge.This strange place has a history that is quiet unknown to most people but theories abound.The stones looks like silent sentinels guarding god knows what,but it has that strange remote look of something that just happened.The wind howls and twirls but the sun shines as if in tribute to the theory that this is a monument to the sun god.We take in the view of yellow corn fields and green meadows with trees in clusters.We then head back to London,having enjoyed our trip to the countryside.Its midnight now and the nights are short and by the time this post is over and done with,daylight will stream in through the windows and the birds will chirp and the flowers will bloom and another sunny English summers day will be born and therefore goodnight....

London Bridge is falling down

2009-06-24T15:35:00.001-07:00

A few days in London and already history and reality are merging in my mind.I have lost track of time(thanks to the sun setting rather late on the erstwhile British empire)and i am not sure what I have seen or when,but let me pull out the memories before they are wiped out by the next lot.Once again we set out like dick witington to see London town.No unlike him we have no hopes of becoming lord mayor of London but that doesn't stop us exploring.Today we start at the tower of London.With all its history of murder,torture and intrigue,the tower itself is a lovely place.We see the armory that made England the power that they were,we go to see the crown jewels and are fascinated by the glitter of diamonds and stones.As Indians we stop a wee bit longer at the Kohinoor and I marvel at the patience and courage of the British monarchy (if wearing those heavy crowns is the price of royalty,then thank you a head of hair is more than enough for me).We watch the change of guard take place,and marvel at the size of the ravens on the lawns(reading Edgar Allen Po's poems never made me imagine that ravens could grow to this size)We then went to every possible place in the tower and walked the walkway over looking the river.The sights and sounds took up almost the entire morning and we stepped out to walk over to the tower bridge.Greed gets the better of me at this point and while the husband is busy capturing London on film,I indulge in one pet passion....food.Raw oysters with the smell and taste of the sea as they glide down my throat and I am in heaven.Too scared of my delicate tummy,I refuse to eat more and we walk on tower bridge and take in the sights.I want to climb to the top and that has the husband in a fit(though when I remind him of the arc the triomph he relents)For all my bravado,I wasn't prepared to face 200 odd steps but decide that somethings in life are best attempted,so we climb,slowly and surely till we are at the top(it wasn't at all that difficult) and the views of London on either side is a truly heart stopping moment.We take as many pictures as we can and come back down.We walk along the south bank in search of lunch but as the English seem to live on sandwiches we are left with very little choice.We walk then to the next bridge which is London bridge I am in search of Nancy's steps..(.where Bill Sykes kills her in Dickens's Oliver Twist,but no one seems to remember either dickens or Oliver) so i carry on.

We stumble upon the glob theater and I am once again very excited about seeing this piece of history but once again that deceptive sun has got us mixed up.The theater is open only till noon for a tour so we have to come back.My next stop is the Tate modern(i have decided to buy prints)and as we approach the husband realises that he is being lured into an art gallery and does an about march.We have to skip it and instead end up on the lawns of the Tate and like the rest of London we sprawl on the grass in the afternoon sun and catch 40 winks.Its time now to cross the millennium bridge to St Paul's.I am reminded of the song from mary poppins and as there are all the birds around it comes alive except that the little old bird woman never came.As we arrive late even for evensong we settle for a look around the outside,then walk the gardens of the cathedral.A song book and a piano are the highlight s of my visit(as I know all the songs in the song book) and we take some pictures in the rose garden and wind our way home,we have a long day ahead tomorrow so its goodnight again.

central london

2009-06-24T15:03:00.000-07:00

One is rather foxed after three days in London.Unlike most cities the English except us to recognise their monuments,so its with a great difficulty that we wander around,stumbling on one city sight after the other.Having spent most of our time underground,we decided that walking overground is a better way to do things.Our first stop is the High gate cemetery.The beauty of England is that the graveyards are not places that are eerie,rather they are places to visit the dead and those long gone,who live today in their history and literature.We walk through the park,watch the ducks feed in the lake and walk across lawns that look like they have been brushed green,such is their symmetry of the place.The trees stand tall and there are dogs of every breed walking or playing.Small children in prams and families on picnics.In England to see the sun shine for long periods is considered a blessing(though I am still waiting to see the English rain).We walk across and enter the cometary at High gate and walk along the paths,read the headstones and arrive finally to the most famous of persons buried there.Karl Max,and George Elliot.We take pictures(husband protests about this but its brushed aside,after all graves are meant to be photographed especially of famous people).That done and a long walk uphill has made us hungry.A pub lunch seems to be the best way to get a meal,and the national dish of England doesn't disappoint(what ever happened to Yorkshire pudding and the like,the chicken tikka masala has upsurged them all).We then proceed back to central London and get off at the embankment.Fascinated at the bridge that seems to hang in mid air we don't stop to look around and proceed instead to gape at the Thames.Then we walk all the way back along the river,take in the view and the cool breeze and finally get a feel of the London of our dreams.The big Ben rises quiet suddenly and its a magnificent sight and as luck would have it it chimes at our arrival.We stop to take pictures and marvel at all that gold and glitter and stone and walk over to Westminster bridge.Some long forgotten poems on the bridge struggle for attention on my scrambled brains,but i stop to take a picture and we continue our walk to Westminster abbey.Unfortunately we have to take in evensong instead of a tour of the abbey as we are too late(the evensong was rather good and made up for the disappointment).We moved along to st Jame's park but don't stop as all the walking has got us rather tired(so much for using the car back home).We stumble on the queens guards and stop to take a picture of the solider in fancy dress(that's how it looks to us) and go on to try and get a look at 10 downing.Unfortunately one needs a pass and in a very American way the place is out of bounds unless one has a pass.The long line of men in dinner jackets and woman in evening dress tell us that Mr Brown has something up his sleeve(the speaker of the house had just been elected and we had been praying for them at the abbey).So we move on knowing that there was no way of sneaking in(sneakers and track pants are sure shot way of being thrown out of any English establishment I would imagine).We move over to Trafalgar square(unfortunately I cannot help but compare Paris with London all the time)I look in vain for the pigeons(i think they have been shot but am not sure) which are few and far between,the fountains are crowded with people and as the husband refuses to climb on to the lions(not an easy task and requires some flexibility and gymnastic ability)i decide to do the honours.Young British schoolboy is enlisted to pull me up while the husband and friend push me forward(this requires a great deal of help and willpower when the only climbing one has done is a short flight of steps to the flat).Once there i get my photo ops(being fed to the lions has always been a photo op so nothing new)That done,we are ready to go back home,so the palace and st martins in the field are given a miss.Considering that I am beginning to sound more and more like prince Charles,it may be about time I paid the queen a visit.But that has to wait,so until then....goodnight

Church and music

2009-06-22T14:13:00.000-07:00

When one is on holiday with a jet lagged partner,one isn't quiet sure how to spend the time.Being at home seems like a pretty dismal ideas when time is limited,so it being Sunday I decide to attend church service at the local parish.A typical church building in red stone but very different inside.Instead of pews,there were chairs,modern speakers and an overhead projector completed the picture.I wasn't too sure what to expect and when this diminutive woman came up to speak it seemed strange to think of her as the priest.Neat and trim in a pant suit she didn't fit my image of priest.No cassock and all that.It being fathers day,she actually got the whole lot to cheer for the men in their lives,passed around paper and pencils for us to write things down and in between managed to give a sermon and in general made me feel rather good to be there.The whole community feeling and the fact that everyone knew everyone else added to the feel good factor.
But for a moment we need to stop and thing of the church of England.The pageantry and glamour of the weddings and funerals and coronations were missing from this small parish and the service was so different,and then we land up for evensong at Westminster abbey and the experience is so very different.What started as a typical touristy visit was cut short thanks to us loosing our way and arriving late.The punctuality of the British is alive and kicking but i cant say the same for the ques system(its dead and gone).The husband was taken kicking and screaming into the abbey for service and once we had entered and told that it was a hours service the husband was most upset.However when we were ushered into the church and made to sit in ornate throne like chairs all the disappointment and apprehensions disappeared.The church itself had numbered seats(guess with all the rich and famous under one roof some order must prevail).The service starts with the choir emerging after much chanting and organ music.The high domes ensure that the sound reverberates around the place and the sound is enchanting as it is awe inspiring.The choir then walks in with in double file and bows at the alter and takes their seats and the service begins.The congregation has very little to do and seated just behind the choir ensures that we get the best of choir music.With the priest singing prayers and the choir chanting and singing the voices rose in symphony and the hall fills with music.Its a concert and well worth the forty five minutes we were there.The entire service had all the pomp and pageantry fitting for an abbey and i thought of my two very different experiences in English churches. I enjoyed evensong at the abbey as it was a soul stirring experience and the music was soothing and beautiful,but the small church represented the cosy parish church and its personalised feel.However one thing is for sure,being a priest,artist or anyone in England requires more skill sets than the more basic one.A good voice for a priest and a good ear for tone is almost as important in the Anglican church as is gymnastics and dance for the actor,and not just dialogue delivery.Not surprising that these are viewed as careers and take so much more time to master.As the sun goes down on another day,I haven't seen most of the places that most people see,but i have got some wonderful memories thus far.To say that London disappoints is an understatement.Unfortunately far too many modern building have found their place among the heritage ones and for this I feel this place has lost out.Sometimes a bit of vanity never did anyone harm.....and so goodnight.

the london diary 2

2009-06-21T15:23:00.000-07:00

When the sun rises at 4am its but natural that we wake up and with jet lag hitting us,our bodies are confused as is our mind.The view from the window however makes up for it.Apple and pear trees,bright flowers all out in summer colours and green grass all set in a little garden with just that nip in the air.Its something we are not used to so we dash off to make tea and soak in the atmosphere while the rest of the house sleeps.Then for a walk around the town with the sun shining bright and easy and as its Saturday the food stalls are out and every produce found locally is there.Pots with herbs,fresh summer vegetables and lovely meats.It sets the tone for the day.The we get our first dose of England.The newspapers are full of the current hot topic of MPs and their expense accounts and for someone used to corruption in high places this seems tame in comparison.We are due for lunch in Westminster so we take the car(bad decision,even on a Saturday) and soon find ourselves bang in the middle of a protest.The sri lankan Tamils are out on the streets of London in protest and that means that most roads are closed.Our poor friend takes us around all the many streets that will take us to our final destination and in the process we see the big Ben,the London eye,the Westminster abbey and all the rest of it.At Knights bridge we are stuck in front of Harrods and find that its still full of Japanese and Arab tourists who are busy spending money.Of course its hallowed gates almost makes you want to run in the opposite direction.Lunch is in covent gardens and for me my mind filled with the scenes from My fair lady,this is a bit of a comedown.The streets are narrow and the square itself is crowded with stalls,entertainers and what have you.Not a sign of the flower girls or the flowers,but of course at 3 in the afternoon its silly to expect them.Lunch is Italian as the English have given up their identity and the typical English foods that we have read so much about has all but been buried.In fact finding an English person in London is really a hard task.There are more Europeans,Chinese and Indian than English.Since we are in the theater area we decide to see a play.Once again we walk the narrow streets and get ourselves tickets for Peter Pan the play that is currently on in London.Coming as we do from a country that has clear differences between day and night,we are rather foxed by the fact that the sun doesn t set on the British empire until well after 9 pm and therefore we have lost track of time.Nevertheless we buy our tickets and make a mad dash for the tube,suddenly realising that we are bound to be late.British tube though lives up to its reputation of punctuality and we arrive in Kensinton gardens with ten minutes to spare.However we haven't accounted for the size of the gardens and we walk and half run just to find that we have missed the deadline and are a minute late.We stand outside and watch the play on wide screen and hope to go on in soon when the husband who has been strangely silent till that moment,asks me if i recognise the woman standing next to me.I look at her and realise that here is the famous Wimbledon champion,Martina standing there next to me waiting to be allowed in as she is late.I marvel at the fact that in my country she would be have been taken in to the theater at once with out any delay,she may have arrived with bodyguards and much fan fare but here she was standing next to me.I am dying to take a photo but the decent person in me says that i shouldn't impose on her privacy so i talk to her and tell her how much i enjoyed watching her play and am happy with that.We enter the theater and then all is magic.Here in a tent in the middle of kensington gardens we are transported(thanks to some excellent special effects) into the world of perter pan and tinker bell.As we watch in sheer wonder at the actors,we realise why the stars of the English stage are so sought after.Here were a set of people so talented not just as actors,but they knew dance,technology,acrobatics and the excellent light and stage design could only have happened in the drama capital of the world.I went to the play based on a review on the bbc and I must say it was worth every pound.We walk back through the streets,stop to take in the sights of the royal Albert hall,the beautiful trees and greens that dot this part of London and wind our way back home satisfied that we managed to see a lot in one day....and so goodnight

The London diary

2009-06-21T15:07:00.000-07:00

An early morning start meant that a lot of things had to be organised,after all we were crossing oceans for a holiday.As we got ready to leave it seemed almost like fate that we decided to have breakfast.Not only was this a very wise decision,it may have also saved our lives.Our next meal much to our dismay came well after 11 am,when we had left the house at seven.Nevertheless we arrived in Colombo not very dead but almost there.The srilankan customs probably reflects the unmentioned hostility between the two countries,we were asked some unnecessary questions after which we were made to wait for another hour in a place that didn't have toilets but an Internet connection.Back on the flight,we got lunch well after lunch time and realised that the 11 hour flight was no joy ride.While the husband played games and watched movies,I made frequents trips to the loo(rather clean ones) and harassed the purser(nice boy with pleasant face) for magazines.When it got too much for him he silenced me with a German magazine and there ended all my reading matter.We watched out for all the countries,trying in vain to see anything at all from 40 thousand feet but we managed to stay entertained.The final leg to London got me all excited about seeing the English channel and the white cliffs of Dover(all those years of listening to Jim Reeves).Unfortunately though it is summer in England,the sky was thick with white clouds all in a sea of whipped cream,not a bit of sunlight passed through and we were convinced that the Aeriel view of London would have to wait,but as luck would have it the pilot was not given clearance and our view of London was almost perfect as the plane circled over ever tourist sight that there was to see.Finally we arrive and clear customs and find the tube.Considering we are in a country where we speak the language,it doesn't seem to difficult to find our way to west London but we are disappointed.Somehow we cant help comparing London to Paris and we are not very excited by the arrival.We finally arrive at the house a cute semi detached cottage in a picture postcard street and feel a lot better.Our first day in London and we are fast asleep in warm and cosy bed,and so goodnight.

Getting back

2009-06-17T21:10:00.000-07:00

Its almost close to travel dates and my mind goes blank.A year of my own company has made me very much of a recluse,happy with my books and my space.Now I have to take a flight half way around the world because i choose to take a holiday,but the butterflies in my stomach will put any butterfly garden to shame.I am a nervous traveller and a bad travel companion,while the rest of the passengers sleep,i will be wide awake.My suitcase is a mess because i cant seem to plan how many clothes to take.Why cant i relax,why cant i enjoy the moment.Its depressing really that my mind is a total blank,that i worry that my replacement (sister in this case to look after the mother) may not arrive in time and that my mother will have to take all the responsibility of running the house.Its insane for a woman who has travelled to Europe in the past with not a single friend in those parts.I still remember the day i hitched a ride in Paris of all places at some odd hour in the night.I wandered around the streets of Paris with a map in hand and found my self lost in the suburbs and didn't stress myself out.I remember asking in french for directions from two terribly drunk chefs somewhere in a village on the outskirts of Paris.Walking back from a late night movie and getting lost in the metro but finding myself on a busy street again,and walking back to my hotel.Was that me?.Whatever happened to my adventurous spirit.I believe that years of being part of a couple has made me soft.I love not having to take responsibility but its about time I took charge again.I promise myself that I shall explore the world again,I shall not stress and I shall once again live life on my terms.Sometimes regression can be a positive thing.

My little six year old friend

2009-06-15T08:56:00.000-07:00

We first met when we were six.I had been home schooled and was therefore terrified about being with so many children.She was made to sit next to me and she got talking,asking me a load of questions really.I was rather impressed.I had never seen anyone with such light hair or such fair skin so I assumed she was from another country.She on finding that I had no clue what school was all about(she had experience of being sent to a nursery school and was therefore a sort of expert)decided to take me under her wing.When she asked me what religion I practised and what my nationality was I answered in all innocence that I was an Indian christian.Her reaction has me laughing even today.At six and studying in an Anglo Indian school meant that most kids had grandparents who were English or Australian and the few of us who were died in the wool Indian were a small minority.She told me very firmly that I was no Injun(her way of pronouncing Indian) and should get it out of my system double quick.I was too young and too inexperienced to even question such wisdom so I fell in line.I liked her a lot.She was a regular child and what struck anyone who say her for the first time,was how dirty she was.She was a grubby child,dirt streaked her skin(thanks to sucking on a leaky fountain pen,and playing in the mud or sandpits)Her hair was always a mess though it started the day being neat and tidy.We both shared our common reading problems of Indian languages so we were sisters in arms.Naturally this reinforced her view that i was no injun.Several times we left our school campus(not allowed) to run over to her house that was pretty close to the school.Her Irish setter would slobber all over us and her grandmother would give us some cake and make beautiful cloth flowers dipped in perfume.I loved getting those and would cherish them for years after wards.We studied together till we were around sixteen and then she dropped out of my life soon enough thanks to the anxiety of exams getting to her.I lost track and some stories drifted my way of her having married a foreigner(didn't even know his nationality,and having moved to England).Some 25 years later a chance school reunion kindled my curiosity as to what happened to her.An enterprising headmistress (she kept all our addresses and phone numbers) put us back in touch.

Now its time to meet again.On an off chance I decided to write to her that I would be visiting England and would like to meet her.Her reply was prompt and a positive one.My best memories of her are as of a six year old.Well into the 40s what do i expect to find.Will she be in some ways the same girl I knew.I wonder?.The thought of seeing her again brings back so many childhood memories.Memories of small desks in which we stored all that was forbidden,sitting next to her in craft class.My famous addiction to sticking glue which i could snif for hours(in those days no one told me it was unsafe)and the many games we played,the trees we climbed and the knees we skined.

Holidays and stress

2009-06-13T07:25:00.000-07:00

Why is it that planning holidays and packing for one is so stressful.Its starts with all the paper work,the networking,the research and then one is all ready with visas and tickets.Now begins the more complicated parts.Now for the large part of our lives we live in a city that is blazing hot,so most of the time we wear cotton,kadhi and little else.Fast forward to a holiday on an island which is famed for unpredictable weather and one is truly foxed.The general advice is light sweater(now here i am feeling hot and bothered in 18 degrees in air conditioning,I am probably the only person who was feeling so hot and sweaty in Europe that i was forced to sit in a bath of cold water to cool my system,so its not surprising that I have no intentions of getting a sweater ready(i don't own any warm clothes with the exception of my skin).All that working out at the gym means that some flab has been lost along the way,and watching many episodes of trinny and susanna have got me thinking,so there I am investing in clothes that fit right.Have decided that all those baggy ten clothes must go,a bit of daring never hurt anyone,more so when chances of meeting anyone i know is rather slim.Of course I will have to hold my breadth at regular intervals but then again do I care?.Not really,the one good thing about growing old is that one looses ones need to impress and this is licence enough to experiment.My feet are my biggest problem.Give me miles to walk and chances are that the feet are going to protest.I might be the only person alive who went all the way from India to Paris and bought shoes at Bata simply because the pursuit of style only left me with two left feet which protested loudly at the steps on monmantre.My quest for style and comfort continues and somewhere in great Britain there will be a shoe shop that will benefit from this one Indian who will be forced to buy shoes.

Now that all that stress has been handles,the thought of the journey scares me.The many reports of airbuses of every size and hue are falling into oceans or crashing into each other,does nothing for this nervous traveller who is wide awake at all times on long haul flights while the rest of the passengers snore.If ever a pilot needs company,he should call me.The prayers are said,the bible dusted from years of disuse is suddenly read for inspiration and comfort.I write wills ever time I travel out of the country and hope I can come back to tear it up all over again.

As the days pass by and travel dates get closer,my stress levels get to an all time high,all the news,and all the politics only makes me feel worse.In my mind ever thing can happen.The US may by accident(like they do most of the time) target the airplane I am using thinking its a terrorist owned one.Or Gordon Brown may call for a snap election and I may find myself in a country in a mess,or worse,the plane may crash in the Indian ocean and I don't even know how to float.As for all those safety precautions,I doubt if I will have the time to even think.And finally If I do reach the destination safe and sound,will I be impressed,will it be everything I dreamed it would be or am I setting myself up for disappointment.

Honestly the day I begin to enjoy the experience of planning and packing for a holiday,I may just find that the husband is rendered redundant,so perhaps its good that I am so stressed,after all the poor man has to put up with my anxieties and my absolute uselessness at such times.

Pondy is rather cheery

2009-06-13T07:23:00.000-07:00

Holidays are best when they are not too well planned or so I would like to believe.A weekend getaway can greatly refresh and reenergise the soul.Sometimes it best taken with friends and the fewer the better.

This weekend my friend and I decided to get away to the seaside close to the city.A laid back French colony, it’s quaint and well planned and being French the food and wine is good as are places to stay at.

Over the years this place has grown and posh hotels are a dime a dozen, but the problem with them is that one may as well be in any city in any country.This is how standardised they are and therefore impersonal.We wanted local feel so we booked ourselves into a little guesthouse in an obscure street, though well surrounded with cafes and eating places.

Run by a woman who has turned her family home into a guest house,this old French villa has all the charm and romance of what one might expect of the French.She herself is half Indian and half French and is ready with maps and suggestions on what to do.We check in to our charming and very basic clean room,no TV no internet but yes books to read,places to sit out and sip tea and lovely garden to walk in.It lulls us into instant relaxation.I can sit at the reception desk and chat with the boys who help out,try out my French on unsuspecting French locals and do nothing at all.No timetables at this place.

The sun has decided to be kind and hide for the day, so we walk the promenade stop for a tea at the charming alliance francaise, read the latest magazines and newspapers in French and chat and gossip about our lives.

Lunch is French again,lovely cheesy pancakes,wine,grilled fish and custard,dinner follows on similar lines and the shopping is all in quaint little shops,full of local wares.Cool cottons,European designs,fragrances and scented candles,French bread and rich chocolate cake.

I forget my gym for the weekend and indulge my stomach and senses with no thought of tomorrow.Ofcourse the photos tell a different tale but this is how holidays are.We have no sense to direction so we read the map,get lost,find ourselves in new places all the time and enjoy the ride.Ofcourse my city friend wants to visit a local disco despite my warnings to the contrary and we leave as fast as we arrive.The place and its music is out of place in this small town with its style and charm and easy lifestyle.

Another simple lunch of salad and quiche and some interesting flower juice and we are back to the city but of course the drive on the beautiful coastline is well worth the drive.Its back home to all the responsibilities but one is refreshed and ready to take on the world.

prep and planning

2009-06-04T04:34:00.000-07:00

Planning has never been my forte but planning is so much a part of life that one does have to make an attempt.I have decided to take a break from house work and routine to take a drive down to a sea side place with a friend of mine.Unfortunately this means a lot of planning,first of all the food,no not for the trip but for the family left behind at home.Ever since the mothers fractured hand,i haven't been able to leave the cooking to her so there i was this morning all charged up to do some serious cooking and freezing and I discovered there were not enough vegetables.The planning went something like this,two days and four people at home so five meals with two vegetable dishes each and the maths got me,as did the empty fridge.So I made a sambar which looks in danger of finishing tomorrow,beans porial which i put in the freezer,some beef cutlets that have been frozen and then i gave up.So much for planning.Dinner is still looming large and no idea hit me as yet.For years i wanted to be a professional chef,because i love food and its preparation but with planning letting me down its seems a pipe dream at the best of times.The mother made all the right noises of helping out and probably will so I have decided not to fret and to take things one day at a time.The thought of getting away from all responsibilities if so inviting that I just hope the car holds up and we have a good time

Agression and present society

2009-06-01T08:02:00.000-07:00

I grew up in a generation of writing letters that later went on to the odd phone call or a visit.In fact my childhood was exactly that....childhood,reading Enid blyton,camping out with friends and eating home food or reading all the books i could possibly get.Which is why I find it so difficult to understand children of this generation.For them there is no childhood.At 12 or 13 and sometimes even younger,they are exposed to the adult world.Tv being the biggest culprit,followed by the Internet and the sheer social circles that children move in nowadays.Its not surprising to find children serving at home parties,children accompanying parents to pubs(not allowed but there is nothing that some influence cant buy).The conversations at home most often than not are peppered with fs and bs and that is almost accepted so don't be surprised if a youngster thinks its hip to use such language.In my days bad language meant that the mouth was washed out with soap if at all we used such language which frankly speaking not even the so called bad children did.Then i fail to understand the sheer anger and aggression that children today exhibit.The parents are largely to blame for this which is why we have so many bad teachers,(too scared to enfore the rules thanks to being sure of inviting the parents wrath)so much lack of discipline and the scant respect for people and authority.Parents today teach their children to be aggressive,to believe that the world is against them and to always bite before they bark.I have seen too many children and parents behave in this appalling manner which is why when I see parents and kids who don't,I know that they are the exceptions and we must give them a big hand.The west suffers today due to this scant regard for basic goodness and we seem to be going that way.Do we really care,i don't think so because its all coming down to I,Me and myself....scary but true and if someone doesn't act fast this will all end in tears.Unfortunately the very parents who so protect their children by fighting their battles,are in reality crippling the kids they love so much.Perhaps its time to go back to teaching self reliance,standing up for oneself and learning to respect another opinion.Any parents listening?

Fear is the key

2009-05-20T06:46:00.000-07:00

I live in a constant state of panic and fear,not the visible kind but deep down in the core,there is a fear,Its irrational at times because I live in constant fear of loosing my mother,watching her suffer and worse not being able to do anything.Does this keep me on my toes,well it does and I constantly check to see if she is breathing,In fact I have been doing so since I was a child and I wonder if its just a habit that I cant break.

Yesterday the fear took a real turn,there I was working out at the gym and suddenly there was that little voice telling ,me that all is not well so I dash out and reach home.I watch my mother for a few hours to find that she is not focused and is being rather vague and disoriented,then she cant sit up.My first thought is a stroke,quite similar to what happened to my dad,they are not sure how to explain.Then practicality takes over and I in good faith shove some sweet horlicks down her throat and give her food and make her seem better.Its my moment of intense terror.I don’t want to have to deal with this.Added to the fact that I shouted at her for non cooperation and was feeling guilty.She seemed a lot better but I am still scared.Did the dosage go wrong did I do something to create this situation,the thoughts are endless.It leaves me tired and exhausted and I wish once again that I didn’t have to handle all this alone.

Of course I then went on to action mode and ordered blood tests and got the phone fixed and I will live another day but the feat never goes.Even my flowers and garden wilt with my fear,Will I ever get over it or will I always live in fear of loosing people.Strange are ones fears

The indian election result

2009-05-17T06:09:00.000-07:00

I spent almost all of May 16th glued to the TV set (something I last did when the US elections were on).At the end of the day or rather in the middle,I was as surprised as I was when the US election result was declared.Did I ever believe that a black man could be president of the US.Well it happened.I voted and hoped the congress would win a resounding victory.The other parties had no agendas.The few local parties had demands that were so self serving that any self respecting person could see thought the fact that all they cared about was themselves and no one else(perhaps we must be thankful for their honesty)The BJP is stuck with a temple that is more millstone than agenda and all the pro Hindu and anti minority seems to have kicked in,till finally the Indian public decided this was on the way out.To have a stable government is to have governance.The good economist need not hanker after pleasing the demands of all and sundry and for the fresh faces and the education that the congress collectively has,am I glad we finally have people in power that can get on an international stage and not embarrass us.Am I glad that cast and religion and the petty divisions have been given a good and deep burial and I am glad to know that the people who lost are in do doubt that they lost.This is what a good election result is all about.A lot of people have been talking of Advanis secular credentials and how he had to bow to party pressure.Give me a break,is there no such thing as principals.A man who can resurrect Ram,a temple and create communal violence is no secular at heat.If power means giving up what you believe in then these are not the people to be leading the country.I am delighted with the result and hope that this whole issue of caste and religion disappear from the Indian polity once and for all.

The great Indian circus

2009-05-13T03:38:00.000-07:00

Today was a big day for the city,the streets are deserted and the only sign of life is in the public schools manned by armed police,because its election day in the city and for most people its a welcome middle of the week holiday but for those of us who cast our votes,its an important day too.Which brings me to the debate that rages among our friends and some family.Do we or don't we vote.Its interesting because a lot of us rant and rave about this miserable government,the corrupt politicians and the thugs that reign in this political arena,but when it comes to voting many of us refuse to take the plunge and do so.Some of the excuses are that there is no one worth it,or better still:I shall go an put an invalid vote(why for heavens sake must you do that).Still others opt for the option of none of the above and more often than not a lot of the most vocal people never vote.

I have been voting from the time i turned 18 thanks to my father who insisted that it was a fundamental right and i had no reason to crib if i didn't take the trouble to vote.So i did a quick check list of what I wanted in people in power(triggered by a comment by a friend who asked me if i would ever get into politics to which i replied never)For one they need to be educated.Now almost all of the candidates in this city are graduates or post graduates,so I cant afford to say they don't qualify(of course we know that education must really be a broadening of the mind and less about the degrees one earns)From their declared assets one would imagine that most of them are not very well off (funny when even one of the houses they live in will be well over 3 to 4 cores so how come their assets are only 1 to 2 cores...hmm accounting problems,I am pretty certain a pricewaterhouse coopers is involved)The I look for a secular candidate.(very tricky but essential,as most parties seem to have forgotten that the constitution describes us as a secular democratic republic,but we still talk of temple building like its the beginning and end of the world,never mind economic slowdown,poverty etc etc).Unfortunately in this political drama there are a number of small time players and most people seem to not understand the difference between local issues and national issues.So we have a jig saw puzzle of all manner of parties and all manner of aspiring prime ministerial candidates.Unfortunately since i am left to choose between the devil and the deep blue sea I simply look at some points that for most people will seem trivial.I look for those who speak good English(chances are they went to good convent schools and good christian colleges by and large,and one therefore assumes they will be more broadminded and secular).I look for people who are by birth pretty well off financially( I assume they have enough money to life by for a few generations and are therefore less prone to corruption though to think they will be clean is asking for too much)I look for people who have married into different communities or religions(this is an indication of there basic value of respecting others and of tolerance) and then I look for people who communicate well (Barack Obama may not do anything for America but he certainly captures the imagination and gives one the feeling that he may do something).Biased I may be but the congress by far fulfills ,most of these points I have raised.If I would have to choose a Manmohan Singh to an Advani I would rather have an economist who can hold his own on an international forum that a PM who is more interested in a temple (the people of the temple town couldn't care less) and in yatras that have huge religious overtones.I look around me and see the countries that are based on religion and how they flounder but wonder why these men who have been in public life for so long just seem to miss the point.After all neither Pakistan or Afghanistan are too far form Delhi right?.Well all said,I have cast my vote and now pray that a secular,broadminded and educated lot hold office in the next parliament and would I be asking for too much?....only may 16th will tell

summer delights

2009-05-07T04:03:00.000-07:00

It’s the beginning of summer madness and I am reminded of the many temptations that came my way in childhood.Temptations that I could never give into but wanted desperately to be part of.

It started at school.The raw mango and chilli powder and salt,the blackberries that oozed juice.The candy floss man who churned magic with his wheel so plenty of pink fluff kid of emerged from nowhere filled with sugary sweetness.The ice man with his block of ice with no clue to the origins of the water that made the ice.He crushed the ice,added tantalising colours some of them hardly the kind of food colouring that one would imagine but the trill of sucking of sweetened crushed ice was bliss.The candy man with sticky multicoloured candy on a wooden pole that he would twist around our wrists into funny shapes.

We were forbidden to eat any of this on the grounds that it was unhygienic (which it was) and not safe (true again).But when one is a child these adult concerns are irelvent.So when we had collected enough change we would indulge in these summer temptations.

Strange but all of them have disappeared.Today I find children being treated to junk food in air-conditioned comfort and its not so different really.The chicken in the kfcs are genetically modified,the bread is industrial quality devoid of all nutrients and for all the so called hygiene its isn’t very different as the junk in the food makes up for all that.Kids are today more prone to things which as children we didn’t know the meaning of.Obesity….what was that….rickets….it existed in textbooks.We didn’t suffer sun strokes despite being in the sun ,we didn’t get fat because we had too much running around to do.

I wonder what life as a kid in this day and age is like,computers,tv constant reality shows….well I guess the quality of life just gets worse every year.My mother still talks of her wild childhood and I would gladly trade places just for the fun of it all.But summer still has its charms.

Hospital visits

2009-05-07T03:38:00.000-07:00

Because the Internet connection is still playing up,this is yet another futile attempt at blogging but one never says never so here I am.

Looking after old people is never an easy job at the best of times,but its worse when one has the added responsibility of having to do it all alone.Of course if one is saddled with someone like my mother one is not entirely sure if one is to laugh or cry.

Today was a review meeting at the hospital with her doc.The appointment was fixed for 10.30am and knowing the way my mom loves to sleep late,getting there on time is a huge challenge.I plan well in advance and get tea and breakfast done,get her to brush her teeth and choose the saree that she will wear.Considering her hand is in a sling this leaves us with limited choices as the loose fitting blouses are few and the sarees that match even fewer.She being the proverbial squirrel,has many brand new sarees stored in pristine condition which she refuses to wear(her reason being that they are new and uncomfortable,never mind that i point to the fact that if worn once we could soften if and wear it again....falls on deaf ears)This morning i choose a pretty pink saree and blouse to match.Objections are raised at once,for the reasons quoted above,so i get into commander mode and issue a direct order,this or nothing.Much sulking and planning of next move follows.I have won the first round so we proceed to wear the saree.Now anyone who has to wear this five yards of material knows how difficult it can be to do,more so when one has to get someone else to wear it.Well i thought i managed pretty well and had it all under control.Oh no,perfectionist that she is,she found fault with the length of the pallu(the part which is draped over one shoulder).Then the pleats were all wrong.Now the function of the pleats is just to make movement easier,but she doesn't think so.Twice I am made to redo the whole thing.The clock by now has inched to the ten o clock mark and we are still getting dressed.Back to issuing direct order.This time its agreed to and we are somewhere close to leaving.Then she decided to pay for the hospital visit.More delays while i search her purse for non existent money(she has used up her allowance this month but refuses to admit it,and as usual she suspects me of not searching properly).Back to third direct order.I will pay and off we go.Tedious climb down flight of stairs,get into the car and the long wait at the hospital,during which time her mood has changed and she is busy passing comments on all folks visiting the hospital.Once the doctor sees her my mother is all charm.No tantrums and quiet angelic(she like the chap).Off we go to physio therapy.Now this is one of her pet hates.She dislike the word exercise,convinced that it was invented for everyone else but her so I know that this is going to be a huge hurdle to cross.But as always miracles never cease and the young man who attends to us is good looking and charming.My mother is instantly taken in(she loves young presentable men and can turn on the charm with ease,and I thank god it wasn't some very professional young woman...she would have sulked instantly).When i get back after paying the bill,there she is like a lamb,doing all the exercises without a murmur.The young man is busy encouraging her and they are getting along like a house on fire.Well he gives her a schedule and we are back home.The mother rather pleased with her outing,her meetings with nice young men who are all charm and where does that leave me.....oh well I am still,the morose daughter,who turns commander and issues direct orders....but well as far as my mother is concerned.....in life one does have to put up with some inconveniences,even when they are daughters.I am still wondering if i should laugh or cry....she can drive me nuts.But I still love her and its time for her tea

Nirvana

2009-04-11T03:44:00.000-07:00

Nirvana....i think that's a state to reach when nothing touches you and youre beyond everything.I always wondered what it felt like.The man who wrote about it was wandering the wilderness in search of truth so I am assuming he was hungry and tired and physically exhausted.And when that happens your body and mind do reach another level.

The last few days have been one of trying to put some order into madness,but that's impossible when one is sleep deprived.So after some snatches of sleep,I get up and get going to get food ready,read the paper(an activity that can be missed and not affect life)look after the mothers need,have a quick bath and a cat nap and get going again because by then tea time has rolled around and dinner is round the corner.Do this a couple of days and the mind becomes numb and the body takes on a personality of its own.One is on auto pilot and nothing matters.One has reached that point in life when everything can just roll over,so i smile,entertain and continue to function on another level quiet apart from what i am really going through.It means that I am physically and mentally exhausted and I have attained nirvana....not a bad place to be considering I didn't have to smoke grass to get there....oops...tea time is here again

patience is a virtue

2009-04-11T03:26:00.000-07:00

Patience is supposed to be a virtue and if that is the case then I am a little too virtuous for my own good and I don't like me.It also leaves one physically and mentally exhausted.It means having to put up with every ones whims and fancies,having to put up with inefficient service providers and not loose ones cool and having to wait in suspense for everything.How this can make anyone virtuous is beyond me.Right now I am being bounced around by one person to the next because they cant trace a courier,thanks to a local holiday and a Sunday in between.

Yesterday I was questioned on the validity of an Xray being taken.It went something like this.

She:"are you sure this X Ray was taken Madam"she asked.(Never mind that i had the bill for it.How something that didn't happen could be billed is beyond me)."

Me:"yes,is there a problem?

She:well there is no record of the same.

Me: perhaps it wasn't recorded,after all it was 4.30 am and at the emergency room

She:that's not possible,how sure are you that it was taken?

Me:(with all the patience i can muster and on the verge of a nervous collapse)Yes I am sure,I was with the patient in the X Ray room and again in the emergency room when the doc checked the X Ray...anymore details?

She:( shakes her head and says again like a stuck record)not possible madam

I was ready to throw a fit when one chap comes in and checks the computer....ah there it is...all taken and ready.

Me:(sigh of relief)

She:well i cant find it,please wait.

After much searching and numerous phone calls and endless discussions,they locate it and hand it over.Half an hour later I leave with a halo around my head...all patience and virtue,but am ready to kill the first person who come my way...

The XRay then travels all the way to its destination by courier.I have been promised a date an a time taking into account all the holidays in question.As on the date promised it hasn't reached and this is a destination I could have driven to in three hours.So what do I do,but wait patiently and hope to god that it reaches the doctor safe and sound.

In the meanwhile I answer questions and dole out good advice to a mother for who the pain is driving her mad.But its my job to hold everything together and still maintain my sanity.So I wait again patiently till I get some answers and honestly all this patience business is pure humbug,what really works is some good old kick ass aggression if you ask me

Womans voices

2009-04-04T23:59:00.000-07:00

Most good things are enjoyed in retrospect,why else would one feel nostalgic about college some 25 odd years after leaving it,(when we were dying to get our while we were there),or for instance why does one hanker after moms cooking long after she has stoped cooking (as children we grumbled endlessly about her cooking).Unfortunately lots of times we are too busy being in the here and now that we appreciate it well after the experience is over.

Going back to college and seeing the campus and the lamps lit and the old classrooms kind of brings back memories that have been lost in the course of just living.To see women from different batches all with their silver hair but with the determination and joie de vivre reminds us what true empowerment means.Its about being your own person.No one has to empower woman,its in our hands to do what we want to do.The education in one of the best woman's colleges meant that we had no distractions in our pursuit of education and a broadening of our horizons.It made us socially aware,committed to causes and gave us the ability to be the best in whatever we choose to do and it gave us above everything else a mind of our own.Which is why one goes back to give back and as the college motto goes,lighted to lighten.It links us to other woman with shared experiences and shared agendas who in their old age are not dependent on others for support but rather on their own minds to be just themselves without the fear and insecurity that normally comes with growing old and helpless and the community of woman is probably the best group to reinforce that belief in self.

life in the time of elections

2009-04-04T07:20:00.000-07:00

When it rains it pours,otherwise why should everything conspire to blink together.It started with the elections being announced,then the government went into top gear,so all of a sudden some water pipes that are as old as i can remember,were suddenly in need of replacements.Who decides that ...obviously the metro water people so there they were all of them with things to dig up the road and they got on with it.For days they dug indiscriminately and the one surviving tree on our road had its roots mutilated and I wonder if it will withstand the next rain(but we thank our stars it didnt fall down)The digging went on for a few days after which it was not just the tree in danger but the water supply and the electricity.You see in their blinkered way,they went ahead and did the work with no thought of what else will be affected so never mind if the electricity cables run underground,they just hacked away.When the water supply ran out we bought a tanker of water so that was ok(atlest we could have baths in clean water instead of our own sweat).Ofcourse afte the new pipes were provided,the electricity ran out and if we wanted to have a party we need to have one just now as the lights blinked at regular intervals almost like a happening nightclub.In the process of this dance of lights,most electricial appliances shut down with the sheer stress of having to deal with the fluctuations.When all pleas to the electricity board fell on deaf ears,i called the chairmans office and told then what i thot of them,then the rest of the street (after having suffered in the heat for almost a week now) got hold of the ministers office and all of a sudden all the engineers were on our street trying to set things right(in our country its still all bout knowing the right people).They managed to make some patchwork of the wires while we prayed and sweated in equal measure.Then the air conditioning came on and we breathed a sigh of relief.Our happiness was short lived.The next day,a new department of the government decided that our already narrow street,needed to get more narrow so they are providing us with pavements.Now pavement mean digging again so we are back to square one except that this time around its not jsut the electricity wires that are being hacked,its also the internet cables....which is why after all this,this post maynot get published becasause the connection is on the blink and that is life in the time of elections

The city changes

2009-03-26T09:21:00.000-07:00

Two years ago I had to drive down to meet a client in a far off suburb of madras.The roads or rather the lack of it made me feel more like a rally driver than a corporate type.There I was avoiding one ditch only to find half the car stuck in another.On all sides there were signs of life in the form of little shops,roadside vendors and plenty of half built glass monstrosities.As we went further up the road,the sun beat down relentlessly but the sides of the road gave way to lush green fields.The hot summer breeze wafted over the grass and the sway and swoosh of the leaves all added to visual appeal.We went a long distance I remember and I wondered aloud who may want to live in this back of beyond unless they had retired and wanted some hamlet tucked away far from the madding crowd.

Yesterday I had reason to go down the road again.With the confidence of a much travelled city driver I set off in my little car,ready to take on the pot holes and still make it a smooth drive.The city had changed while i slept,the roads were tared,smooth,the highway was awash with high tech lighting,over bridges for pedestrians and grand trees and plants all planted with great precision on the medians dividing the roads.Fast cars,air conditioned buses and overhead trains rumbled along and as I travelled further I didn't recognise a single signpost.The glass and concrete building were in evidence all along,the lust green fields that i feasted my eyes on had long given way to global warming and man made disasters.The little shops had increased,I had to pay a toll for usage of the road and the traffic was much greater.There were hotels,signboards,large hospitals and it was a city far removed from what I am used to.Everything was two years old.For me,having lived in a city that had history,tradition,culture and beautiful buildings,this was the sign of things to come.This is development and this is what we will do to our cities sooner than later.Yes of course i loved the smooth drive,I loved the organization,and I loved the fact that so much was happening in our city,but did it have to be at the cost of little villages,did we have to progress at the cost of green fields,open spaces and confine ourselves to Lego type housing and cubby holed offices albeit all the trappings of modern living.In the few green patches left,there were hoardings luring one to invest in property.I came away happy at progress,but saddened at the reflections of the mirrored building.I saw the heat increase as more trees were cut down,I saw the sea recede as more land was taken up closer to it and i saw the disasters we fail to foresee in our rapid need to rise up and be one with the rest of the world.In a fast paced economy we loose our heritage but there are countries that have managed to have the best of both.I wish our town planners had learnt those lessons sooner.

Zinger Life: Naya job, Purana formula !

2009-03-26T09:20:00.000-07:00

Zinger Life: Naya job, Purana formula !

loved this post,but honestly in all my working years i have come across very few people who actually practise this...i agree it works but it needs conviction and courage and its a huge risk if one works in a highly political organization....i did

oh mother mine

2009-03-20T19:39:00.001-07:00

Yesterday i read an article on mother daughter relationships and it made me examine my own relationship with my mother.As a child i had very little to do with her especially as a school child.I routed all requests through my eldest sister who was babysitter for most of them time and seemed to be in control.She also knew all the right buttons to press when it came to the mother (continues to do so even today).When the sisters left home i had no choice but to deal with her myself.My teenage years were spend stealing her red max factor lipstick(i used to mix it with coconut oil to make lip gloss which because it was forbidden,was ever so attractive)arguing with her on choice of clothes and what hairstyle i chose to wear.My mother was strict and opinionated in my opinion so the arguments never stoped.My friends and i learnt to break every rule without her finding out (in the days of no email and no cell phones this was no easy task as co ordination took time)In college i was left largely to myself but once i started working it was fine.She unfortunately was always viewed as a food provider,middle man to deal with my father and general care giver,I probably love my mother to bits but we are a family that doesn't express these things at least not verbally.Over the years i have fought my mothers case.My father being the dominating one ,i felt that she as a woman was not appreciated and this led to constant run in with my father.My mother for some strange reason or not so strange considering her upbringing,believed that the only way to combat loneliness was to get married have a few kids and that she believed was the way to do it.After all when one is old the children and grandchildren will be around she says.Never mind that the children except for one are never around but for her life is bearable because my sisters visit from time to time,the grand children drop in from time to time and these are for her probably the happiest times.That's when she laughs (she rarely laughs in my presence but neither do i).Over the years,I seems to have become a bit obsessed.Because her health is such a concern i police her all the time,i seem to come across as impatient and a constant nag.Yes she can leave the kitchen in a mess but her food preparations are so good that one can forgive a messy kitchen.My mother is a hoarder,she will squirrel things in the fridge and forget about it for years,so i clean the fridge when she is sleeping and throw away stuff.She has a cupboard full of sarees that never get worn and all kinds of other things.How does one deal with a parent getting old and loosing control.The roles reverse,I take on the role of commander in chief and she is so careful not to upset the balance.She checks with me about things to do and i find that hard.I still want my mother to take charge,i want her to run my house and do stuff she did before but this is what i have to learn to deal with.It teaches me patience i hope and in return i hope i don't get into the mode that a lot of my friends get into,where love and caring are shown by our constant nagging and yelling.Are we just to scared to face our mothers getting old and frail....yes it is and for those of us who live with it day to day its a traumatic experience but something we will look back on fondly and be glad for our times together.And so to another day when I have managed to throw away a lot of the rubbish that the fridge had,and to out high tension breakfast of appam and stew and a lot of appreciation that my mother will have an opinion about the way i cut onions or the way i talk to my maid,but honestly what would the house be like without her....i hate to imagine

net working

2009-03-19T23:08:00.000-07:00

Networking,its the buzz word in the corporate world,it really means that you scratch my back and i yours,so every time we meet someone,we size his up as a potential contact for some favour or the other.Now this networking thing comes very easily to men and to some woman,especially if you are the ambitious kind.Of course its amazing how much value it has in the superficial world we live in today.Now take someone like me,who is ambitious but in my own way and I have managed pretty well so far.Yes there is the joke that I know someone or the other in the city so chances are that I bump into them sooner than later.The fact is that most people who know me are also persons in their own right and they for some reason see me as someone they would like to know.Now for me it ends right there.I simply cannot imagine using their contacts to get things done.Now here is where my shyness vs my networking skills comes in and i end up with a big zero.Its worse when i am not in the corporate world,so there are people who call and ask if i can speak to this one and that and I for the life of me cant do,simply cant get myself to doing it.Am i being foolish?.Of course I am,i will not survive in this cut throat world of networking and working out of home.Its something that i need to work on but tell me how does one change ones personality now in the twilight years of my life.When i quit full time work,my cell phone stoped ringing and i was delighted.I could forget it existed and it suited me fine.The husband has quit full time work and his phone never stops ringing.He is networking and loves it.Sometimes the networking will extend to someone I know and i cringe at the thought of having to call but i must learn to do it.Its probably the most difficult lesson in life so far,but someone said that when we stop learning ,we stop living and i guess i would like to live a few more years so learning here i come,slowly but surely

Eleven years

2009-03-19T01:03:00.000-07:00

Eleven years is a long time in this day and age to stay married and we seem to be close to accomplishing this near impossible task.Today's newspaper talked of a young 20 something jumping off the fifth floor because she was denied a cigarette (life is that inexpensive today),another young couple were ready to call it quits because the recession was taking its toll.All around me the signs of recession is alive and kicking and its toll on marriages is scary.Unfortunately it seems to be affecting the young upwardly mobile couple who seem to have it all,house,car,cute baby,double incomes(until recently),life style as defined by blackberry,pup visits,eating out and getaways.So what keeps the 40 somethings like us stay together.Don't we have problems,don't we have fights?.Of course we do.The husband and i have been fighting and arguing over the silliest of things for the past eleven years and for some six years before when we thought we were friends but could fight to kill each other.Of course over the years,the quality of fights (like everything else in the world) has come down.Now we actually give in and agree (which I must admit is a tad boring,nothing like a good fight to release stress I would say).There are no gifts now,(being at home means there is no requirement for perfume,clothes etc)no eating out(since I discovered my culinary talents)but our house is always filled with family and friends and everything that we like.After eleven years we don't need conversations,the husband is glued to tv and yours truly is content with books,cooking and reading(all done in separate rooms so as not to disturb the quality of our pursuits).Its enough to know that the significant other is a shout away.We still do vegetable shopping together(its nice to have someone carry the bags)Our driving roles are reversed but not without the constant lesson on good driving skills that the husband insists on giving,to which I have learnt to turn a deaf ear and when the monologue gets too much I step on the gas and the husband is reduced to silence and gets his voice back only when we reach home.To the young people of today we may come across as staid,uninteresting and lacking in life but we never in these eleven years (during the worst of times) felt the need to dump each other for a better life.We had all or more of the problems that most couples face but maybe it was good parenting on our parents part,maybe it was the fact that everything we own we had to work hard for,maybe its the fact that in a relationship with so little conversation,we still managed to communicate and understand and maybe just maybe we have got some of our priorities right.Not to be judgemental but in today's world everything is about speed.Get richer faster,grow faster,dump faster and jump around jobs,relationships and everything else.Sound so exciting and so full of possibilities but where does it all end.....something the best things in life come slowly and to wait for it is the best part of living.There is not going to be flowers,chocolates and moonlight tomorrow,more likely it will be dirty washing,watering plants,veggie shopping and some quality time in the kitchen but that's happiness and after eleven years I couldn't ask for more

Made by maids

2009-03-09T02:20:00.000-07:00

Her day begins at 5am and ends around 4pm,by which time she has taken care of all her household chores,packed her kids off to school,cleaned and washed dishes in two houses,cleaned two houses and is probably dog tired by the end of it all.Like most working women she needs to handle her shopping,and other jobs outside of home which unfortunately eat into her work time.Dare she be late to work and the household will yell at her,demand an explanation and sulk.She gets no paid leave,no casual leave and no sick leave.She has not benefits that a lot of women in the organised sector have.At home she has a husband who refuses to be employed,children to educate,insurance to pay and sundry functions to conduct all of which need to be handled on her meager salary.Yet there are very few days when she sulks.Most days she is the picture of cheerfulness,always laughing at her woes,always ready for a joke and punctual when most others of her breed will bunk at the slightest excuse.I have seen maids of many generations and I marvel at the change or progress that they have made.In the earlier days,they were a lot less affluent and most had husbands that were drunk and abusive.This is true of most maids in the 40 plus group.The thirty something ones all have some of the so called fancy amenities.Most have gas connections,concrete roof over their heads,a bicycle to commute on,and a cell phone to chat with friends.Their attitudes have also undergone some change.I find that they are more educated,have a clearer understanding of their rights be it at home or in the workplace,and are ready to learn.They are also learning to appreciate that when they are treated well they need to reciprocate the same.This in my view is progress albeit at a very slow pace