Womans voices

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

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

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 !

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

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

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

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

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

Corruption is fed

We are making progress,that means we fright corruption first and to do that it takes collective effort.The first step is that every payment is made by demand draft or cheque and there are signs all over government offices saying that bribing is not acceptable.There is also a phone number to call if anyone asks or takes a bribe.Funny to think that should we do so,chances are that non of our jobs will get done,the other thing that can happen is that the very guy we call will ask for a bribe.Now this is tricky so we do a little dance,we gauge the reaction of the concerned person with leading questions and a little play acting on our part.After some time we are told that if we should try and handle the procedures by ourselves,chances are that it will take a long time and we may be asked unnecessary questions.Well that has us stumped(exactly the objective),so we ask in all innocence what we need to do.She is prompt.There is a person who is very experienced she tells us who would be glad to assist and having worked in the office for years he know the ins and outs she tells us.We are given a phone number and a name and an appointment is fixed and we are sent on our way.No money has exchanged hands and no bribe has been given or asked for.Its understood that the middle man will get it all done for us,take a nice tidy sum of money depending on his assessment of how much we can afford and everyone in the chain will be paid off.Is this corruption...of course it is.Will we stand up to it,well we would like to but we also need to earn a living and we also know that standing up to them isn't in our best interests,so we pay up.Are we to blame,perhaps yes but is there a solution....I don't know and having seen systems far more corrupt I learn to appreciate(not the most appropriate word) that this city is perhaps the lesser of the evils than some other governments I know.So we are all caught up in a web of corruption but why blame the government and its workers,at least they don't take the moral high ground like some private corporates do but corruption comes in many forms and its not confined to just government personnel...some of the private ones are a lot worse by comparison

Bycycle tales

Most often than not there are people who drive fancy cars (and sometimes the not so fancy ones either) who rave and rant about the madness of the average bicycle rider on our city roads.The grouse is that they have no road sense,can turn at will with no indication that they had planed to do so and can enter ones field of vision when there is just about time to jam the breaks hard inorder to prevent oneself being hauled up for murder.On our roads the guy with the smaller vehicle is king.I must admit I am one of those people...but the one in the not so fancy car but nevertheless I must admit to knocking a couple of them off their bikes.Now having joined the ranks of the average bicylcle rider,I am beginning to look at thing from their or rather now "our"perspective.

Lets get some facts right,since no one takes much notice of this lowly rider,the bicycle comes with no fancy or even basic headlights or rear view mirrors.Now the chances are that none of us has eyes behind out heads so we ride at random.I would begin to think that everyone else ought to be looking out for us little people with no amenities and giving us right of way.Having been on the neighbouring roads for the last two weeks I can vouch for the dangers that city roads present.Traffic even in the by lanes has increased and most people get this cheap trill by pushing us off the road(i must admit that there must be something very tempting about a woman in levi jeans and nike shoes that makes people want to push me off.....so much for wanting to reduce carbon footprint)I have no started appreciating the travails of the average bicycle rider and when I need to drive the car I have begun to look out for them much to the displeasure of certain family members who still harbour hopes of killing a few sometime in life.

such is life

The heat can really get one.Mad as a hatter was never truer.With temps getting into the wrong side of 30s its small wonder that everyone is blowing up The maddest thing to do during this heat is to do things that one doesn't normally do.Take for instance this new way of observing lent(old way but new for me,never done it before).To go off non veg food for forty days is hard at the best of times,and to do so in summer with the heat already getting to one,is the worst kind of decision.But when the whole world dares you to try,and when one considers the so called benefits (loosing weight....because i shall eat a lot less,getting innovative on cooking)it kind of seemed worth it.But to not be gracious about it is a definite no no so here I am caught in this dilemma of to do or not to do and that really is the question.

All the friends have left so the visitor brigade is over for a while,the serious business of making money,keeping oneself busy and managing to stay calm amidst waves of negativism from people around,the need to be patient(when what one really wants to do is to be irresponsible) and to take on the mantle of responsibility is all getting on my already frayed nerves.Sometimes its healthy to throw all caution to the winds,to live for only oneself and to be selfish,irresponsible and irreverent.I wait for the day I can do all that but perhaps when the time comes,I may not want to be any of those,for such is life

The joys of cycling

First there was the cycle.Its started with a few faltering steps taken in Bangalore to get me seriously hooked.Of course nothing compares to real cycling as opposed to the many cycles in the gym.Perhaps all that gym activity made the real bike seem less alien.Thanks to having friends with grown up children(read children who have outgrown their cycles) I got myself a second hand cycle.The next challenge is to get it into working condition(the child in question had outgrown it by at least a year)Nothing in our house happens without the tacit understanding and help of our domestic help,the ironing man,the watchman and the local hangers on.Of course all their sympathies lie with the man of the house(the untold reaction being that women above a certain age must behave so and not indulge in childhood pursuits).After two days of constant reminders,(and after the husband had told all his sympathisers that if the cycle wasn't in running condition in the next day or two,he was in danger of being starved)the ironing man(chap who irons our clothes and is the local fixer)took the cycle today and got it all spruced up and ready.Of course considering I am a novice it would be prudent to keep cycle testing for a time when the road is clear of all human kind and the automobile kind (there are enough people waiting to see the fun).Our road has some four and a half kids who play on the road between four thirty to six in the evenings.Unfortunately they are all at an age when they are too young to appreciate that learning anything new after forty is an uphill task and requires bravery.Since they don't understand,they tend to hang around and gape.So I wait patiently to see them go back to their homes but as usual the gods conspire against me and,instead of the usual kids,there i was seeing some ten little boys pour out of one house which till date didn't have a child to its credit.The clock ticks and I wait patiently till the last of the brats disappears and then the fun begins.First step is to unchain the bike(the paranoid husband has locked it to a post to prevent it being stolen,though i can still find ways to steal it)The next challenge is to unlock the bike.Being blind as a bat,this takes some doing,but by now I am pretty good at braille so the next step is crossed.Then comes the actual riding.Now we are talking of an empty road and a woman who under normal circumstances is considered old to be learning to ride.But for the average roadside romeo a woman of any age is a woman,so while I struggle to get my grip,there was this young blade who got some cheap trill of cycling by too close.Of course this is lost on me for the moment(everything dawns on me much later to the frustration of such young blades who don't always get their trills as there is no reaction from me).Once i get the hang of it its that wonderful feeling again.This place of course has seen me learn to ride a scooter and a car on these very same roads so its with a sense of deja vu that i set off to ride and enjoy myself.If this is exercise then I am all for it.After the initial fits and starts,I am off crossing the road to my old street and back.Some forty five minutes later feeling rather good about myself I get back home and announce to the mother that I have been out cycling.Her reaction is enough to deflate even the most optimistic(is the bike still in working condition she asks in all earnestness....well looking at the cycle in question,it doesn't look like it can bear the weight of a seventy kilos)but as I have lived with her all my life,I let it wash over me without turning a hair and I am going to be back to cycling and the joys of learning new skills tomorrow

paper tigers

one believes that all paperwork must end the moment one retires,or rather I believed thus.Today my happy existence was shattered by the piles of paper work I discovered I needed to do.Its starts with having to pay taxes.Now that really takes the cake.Why would one unemployed woman be expected to pay taxes,is beyond my comprehension.But truth be told that's exactly what the government expects one to do.It seems that to get all this tax business done,one needs to get all the paperwork in order.Now I have been one of those lucky ones who always had a man Friday to do my accounting and filing.I miss the one boy in my life who made it all seem so easy but he has since exited my life so here I am doomed to handle all this myself.The first thing one needs to know(or so the husband informs me) is to file by date.I spent the entire afternoon putting piles of paper into monthly piles to be filed in that order.Its no fun when the mother comments that I remind her of her grandfather who did this on a regular basis.It seems to run in the family all this last minute work and if its genetic then there is no way I can escape.Why I wonder cant i be the simple housewife that I have become(no one believes that I can be a simple housewife though why it beats me) who is dependent on her husband to take care of all this.Well it seems that the is no rest for the wicked especially when the wicked have a history of having managed all their affairs for the last twenty years with no help from the husband.Oh well its time to tackle more files so to work to work I go.....

childhood in parumala

Ive been reading a lot about kerala and it occurs to me that many experiences are similar.For instance every vacation saw us board the kerala mail(that's what it was called) and we got off at tiruvella(i think its spelt that way).From the station we took a taxi to the backwaters and waited till a valam(long snake boat) came along .We had to be very careful how we got in,taking care to balance right or fall into the river.My mother went into depression as soon as she got into the train and by the time we reached the boat her depression was well established.My sisters cribbed about leaving the city and having to spend the best part of their lives in a god forsaken island.My father tried hard to balance all this but as we neared home he didn't bother with any of us.The boatman carried a long bamboo pole which he used as an oar and when we reached the opposite bank he would jump off the boat and drag it,people and all up the bank,and we all jumped off and landed into soft river mud which promptly came up to the ankles.I loved it and the rest of the family hated it.Our house was set a little off the river bank so that meant a bit of a trudge up the drive with muddy feet.The house itself was a rectangle,with a veranda running all around.The veranda was at least two feet high and there was always a Kindi(a small jar with a spout ) full of water.We were expected to wash out feet before entering the house.The house itself was on many levels.In the centre of the house was a huge room that served as a store room or a modern cellar.Right in the middle of that room was another room on a higher level which had this huge wooden door and wooden steps leading up to it.This was where the more interesting things were stored,the ripe jack fruit,the juicy mangoes,the fresh farm eggs and goodies that were out of reach of us kids.God forbid we dared venture there,but the trick was to hang around until some adult got there and then if one sweetly offered to help,they tended to overlook the fact that I was a child and there i was being given a peep into that world of good food.Foodie that I am,it was the first thing i looked out for in the house.In the early morning the milk was churned and the butter always stored in earthen pots hung from the rafters.It was out of reach of children but was tantalisingly attractive.Not that I cared too much for butter.

At night this lovely house took on a different personality.Thanks to the absence of electricity,there were a million lamps lit with oil.If one wanted to go outside the torch was always a bunch of palm leaves that were lit and used as flares.The shadows of a million lamps cast long shadows on the walls.If one is a child this can be really scary.When night fell the silence was deafening and the only sound were those of crickets and mice.Tiny scurrying feet could be heard all night.Mysterious laughter came from my grandmothers room(she had died a few years after I was born).Considering she wasn't around,the adults exchanged glances and continued to do what ever they did,but she was having the last laugh.Her spirit never left that house,she wandered the nights there especially in the store room and if one coconut was missing then the house would shudder and mourn with her anger.The floorboards creaked every time we walked and the sound can conjure up a variety of fears.On Sundays the church service fuelled my imagination.Priest in black wandered up and down the aisle of the parumala church which housed the remains of a well known bishop who was supposed to grant all wishes.Today when I think back it all seems so foolish but to a child dwarfed by those many priest swinging their incense cradles and chanting in mournfully voices,it was really the fear of god as i saw it.Today that house is just a memory.Modern day progress has rendered the boatman and his wears and transport a thing of the past and to me there are no more visits there,these are childhood memories.

Bumblimas and us

One large bumblimas (I am not sure why its called thus) has been around in the kitchen for a few days now.The size of a football or perhaps a little smaller,its a lemon green and belongs to the lemon family.My nephew took the trouble of climbing the tree,risking being bitten by red ants and bruised by thorns and brought it all the way from one grandmothers house to the other ones home.Not knowing what to do with it my mother left it in the kitchen until hunger and curiosity got the better of me.Having invested in a juicer,my current obsession is to turn everything into a juice and this poor fruit was about to get some much needed attention.At touch it was a bit soft and i was convinced it has gone bad but nevertheless I cut it into two.The insides of the fruit set me thinking.The fruit itself was firm and ripe but all around it was a thick layer of soft mushy or rather spongy white stuff almost like protection for the core.So really the fruit had a thick hide,soft protection and in the center was the fruit intact and good enough to eat.So like humans really when one thinks of it.Some of us have this thick shell that looks like its hard to break but actually inside some of us are so vulnerable and soft that until one is pushed to the limits,the core really doesn't come through.The core reminded me of who we really are.Our personalities,our strengths and weaknesses are all tightly coiled into our core and the rest of it like the fruit is really not good for much,easy to get rid of,layers we develop over time and experience that cover us until at times we are judged by that layer.Some people refuse to see beyond that and like the fruit that sat at the kitchen table without a second glance,some of us get ignored or not noticed because no one bothers to see the core.I juiced the core of the fruit,the real fruit and it had flavours that burst in the mouth,the taste of sweet smelling flowers,lime,a certain tartness mingles with just enough sweet,not the cloying sticky sweet that makes you sick.Everything in balance.As i sipped and relished my fruit juice I couldn't but imagine how all of us have many flavours,all in balance,some more potent than the rest but in the end its all there.Do we need a juicer to get us out of our shell,perhaps not but we certainly need to look into our core more often.There is the secret of who we are and what we choose to become.

learning to ride

It been a desire for every since I can remember.Cycling was what i wanted to learn.As i watched other kids ride their bikes I wondered how it would feel to be free,to balance on so thin a frame and to ride against the wind.But it was not to be.Overprotected and worried about everything we were forbidden to ride.Many years later as an act of rebellion I bought a scooter thanks to becoming an earning member of the family.I didn't know the first thing about balance and crashed many times to emerge stronger and more determined.Years later I graduated to a car,learning to drive at what most folks would imagine is a ripe old age(at least for learning motor skills).But the need to ride a cycle never left me.Lat week I sported a bike,small enough for my short feet to touch the ground and the determination came back.Much struggle later I was balanced and riding,the wind against my hair just as I had imagined it.The trill was everything,I had mastered it and the faces of the children on the road registered the shock that someone so old could be learning to do what they took so for granted.They watched me with great interest and then encouraged me along the road.Obviously they will never know what it feels like to want something so much and the great sense of achievement that comes from mastery.

Memories

There is much to write but the fingers on the key board refuse to move and the thoughts are trapped in the mind,probably because its not willing to be recorded.But it must at some point,that is the therapy.One full year to the day,the day I quit,the day a parent died and the day life changed in many ways.It brings the family together all three daughters,each meeting together for the first time in many years.Its a somber morning,we don't talk,we ponder,each captive in their own worlds,thoughts and memories.Each a different one,each in a different time frame.We meet again at the cemetery after a year.Ten roses of different hues adorn the grave but my father wasn't a lover of flowers so much.Perhaps if convention didn't exist,we may have left a good fresh fish and a bottle of black label.Would that have been more appropriate.I am not sure.We mourn out dead.My mother breaks her silence after a year and sobs,my eldest sister takes charge as always.I stand alone not physically but very much in my thoughts.I don't want to think,I don't want to remember,some memories are too painful,best to be wiped out but the human mind will not allow that and so we relive our most painful moments,every memory of that day by the hour etched firmly in my memory and this is the only way to deal with it,to remember.

God men and they tribe

Organised religion and me were never friends.I need to be inspired by the words and deeds of people who are so called representatives of a religion and unfortunately there are few who do so.In fact the ones who don't number more.I belong to an orthodox order which means that there are traditions and rituals that have very little to do with the actual essence of my religion,unfortunately these take precedence over all else.
Imagine my shock when a priest today told me that I am living in sin because the church doesn't recognise my marriage,then he went on to harp on the fact that i couldn't be a member because I had not married in church.By this time I was ready to walk out,except that I needed a memorial service in memory of my father who lucky man has a priest at that time who was young,liberal and a good man at that.Unfortunately for me I had to deal with an absolute bigot who had my bile churning and my blood pressure rising.If it hadn't been for a very patient(non christian) husband the priest may have got mouthful from me on the virtues of his profession.Unfortunately these are men who are seen by the larger public,these are men who in the name of god,tarnish the very image of a god of justice and peace and love to all mankind.These are the men who in the name of god make money well beyond their means for who the outward trappings are what define the person.God forbid I would need to ever go to such a man for an religious service.He by his actions and words has made me want to change my mothers membership to a different church(simply because we know more people there).He by his actions has prompted me to write my own funeral,where I am leaving specific instructions on what has to be done and what bible verse must be read and what hymn should be sung and when all is done,since the church will not bury me(despite me being a practising christian)then i can be cremated and the ashes added to the soil of my favourite plants so that my spirit may live on in the flowers that bloom.Over my dead body will men such as the priest of today,say a prayer because for me it will be an empty chant from a man who doesn't represent any God that I have ever known.

Fashion and me

Fashion victim I am not,nor am I fashionable but i do believe I have a style of my own and if this means walking into a snooty fashion launch with a bright yellow plastic bag filled with books,then so be it.So this was one event that had the beautiful people of Chennai(beautiful with loads of help from the best cosmetic companies I must add) falling over themselves to kiss air,show a lot of skin,drink copious amounts of free wine and champagne and gorge on equal amounts of finger foods and gawk at some of the most shocking clothes(for their lack of style despite being palmed off as the high end of luxury) and some of the accessories that yours truly could well get off the pavements at a price that doesn't burn a hole in ones pocket.
But all opinions aside,the event itself is an eye opener of sorts.Of course the mandatory celebrity guest of honour was there,so what if she is a fading diva who despite all the makeup and surgery still looked like she had been made.Then the usual page 3 people of Chennai who are there with so much make up that its a wonder they can smile (people here haven't heard of subtlety)But then again when the cameras are clicking all around its understandable,after all chances are the the newspapers the next day will carry your picture.There are also the others in the mutton dressed as lamb category but I take my hats off to them for sheer genius in reinventing themselves.I of course had to be different simply because my wardrobe demands that it be that way,so there I was.Now I still cant understand why one would pay some twenty odd thousand for a skirt which weighs a ton and would feel more like a straight jacket than a skirt,or for that matter why pay ten grand for a sweater that looks like it was pulled out of shape in the washing machine and then the slippers.Considering that there are times when I tend to go a bit mad at shoes(meaning I spend a bit) the footwear in that shop was garish and not stylish and the woman actually oohed and ahhed about it.Was i out of touch or what.I love going for these event just to watch the fun,the people and the madness that is called glamour,and luckily for me I can stand on the sidelines and enjoy the show knowing I will never need to buy anything for shops such as these.Designer wear for me is about style,elegance and class and for that if I had the money i would be spending it on Armani or channel or Dior.I have stoped dead in my tracks just to gape at some of the best cut and most elegant clothes that these fashion houses produce and for that an arm and a leg wouldn't be too bad

The fridge

I am not in the habit of raiding refrigerators in other peoples homes,but I am not the kind to pass up an opportunity if it comes my way either.The fact is that it says a lot about the people it belongs too.Hadn't given it much thought until recently but the way its used is rather interesting.A lot of countries still use their cellars to store stuff but for lesser mortals like us the fridge is a necessity.Let see now,the things that will really perish are meat and fish and maybe veggies but if one is a vegetrain then what can a fridge be used for.
I have a huge fridge which was bought recently simply because i am in the habit of getting all the measurements so wrong that instead of making food for a one or two man army,I sometimes make food for the U S army so to speak,so the fridge is always full,and on the next day when i could eat leftovers,there will be the odd grumble from one member of the family who will want fresh food so there goes.It piles up in no time and before you know it there is so much food in the fridge that I can now write a book on recycling food and the many new recipes that leftovers have to offer.As for some of us who live in remote areas the fridge is one place to store for the month,but actually its the freezer.Sometimes when the ice cubes taste like fish sauce and the chocolates in the freezer take on Chinese flavours one knows that its time to get a new fridge with a large freezer.
For some its a style statement or just one of those gadgets that are a must have.I raided a fridge recently and was amazed at the variety of stuff available.Every kind of dhal in full form and in powders was there for the asking,curd in such large quantities that would make even the god Krishna would go off the stuff(legend has it that he was a great one for the butter from the curd).Then there were flowers.Yes flowers in little boxes all ready for a full week of puja and veggies like all of us.The freezer looked more like my store cupboard and there I was getting a new look at the most unconventional uses of the freezer.I remember the freezer in my moms home that was packed to the gills with everything that once walked the earth and we always found something to eat there.The extra large freezer in our home has a little more variety,chocolates,ice creams(we now buy them because of extra space and its translating into extra bit of fat around our respective stomachs).Its a fusion of my mothers habits,the mother in laws ideas and a little bit of our own.So here I am with a fridge full of greed,my moms fridge spoke of thrift,(she wouldn't dream of throwing anything away),my sisters house had a freezer and a fridge all a big store house because she was always worried about running out of food,another relative just stuffed anything that looked like it needed cold storage but when it comes to unconventional uses there are no marks for guessing....the mother in law takes the cake.I have decided to raid a few more and my next research project will be on personality and the fridge with a few variables like culture,religion,sex etc thrown in....seems like a plan