A few days ago while visiting my mother I noticed that there was a thin,sharp knife (almost a stilleto)on the bed next to her.She is in the habit of eating fruit while watching TV so I didnt give it much thought untill a few minutes later I realaised that there was no fruit and the knife didnt serve any purpose.
I wondered if she was scared of being alone at home(dads in hospital) but what could a knife like that do.It was too slender and in my opinion far to blunt to inflict any damage.Also even under severe circumstances (assuming my mother uses all her energy) that knife would be quiet useless if the house were to be burgled or if intruders tried to attack.All this ran through my mind and after having eliminated all possibilities,I ventured to ask her the reason for the knives presence.
Its important to understand that my mother spent her childhood in unspoilt pristine kerala with forests as playgrounds and ghost stories as bed time stories.Those were the days of oil lamps and rampant witchcraft(practised in Kerala with great ease).My mother was brought up to believe in spirits and ghosts(probably the parents way of keeping large families under control).My mother thereofre has a healthy respect for the spirit world and has been taught that the best weapon against a bad spirit is a metal knife,a cross and some garlic.My mother chose the knife.Perhaps her long association with city living has taught her that the knife might serve two purposes,the flesh and the spirit.
She keeps it with her while she is alone and when questioned,she explained that the fear of man was not in her psyche but the spirits she is terrified of.So the normally frugal mother will ensure that all lights are on(even the ones not required.....the spirits are know to love darkness)knife is close at hand and the Tv is one at high volume(its usually a soppy malayalam story where the daughter in law is subjected the some morbid form of witchcraft,or a true blue kerala style ghost story)and my mother feels secure.
The knife comes back to the dining table when all of us are back at the house,so we now have a ghose knife at home and I dread to think of what will happen to the fruit when we use the ghost knife.....it may turn into a fruity spirit I guess but my mother would be very offended if we didnt take her seriously so we rest our case.
tea gardens
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Love and Hate
Human psychology is an interesting subject.Watching people is an education in itself.Love and hate,two very powerful emotions but not very different in themselves.To hate with intensity and to love to distraction are essentially the same things.I have watched a very interesting pattern of behaviour and have come to the conclusion that its better to be hated than to be loved to distraction.
Take a look at some typical situations.All relationships we say are about give and take,it needs working on and all that.Put two people together and see the differences.In many cases of hate the resultant behaviour is aimed at hurting one person.The person in charge of hate will do everything to make the others life hell.It can move to controlling behaviour,suspicion,possessiveness and verbal abuse as also physical abuse.In such situations the hurt party will choose to walk out of the relationship at some point or suffer in silence,depending on the personality type.It is easier to leave an abusive relationship when hate is the propelling emotion.
Look at being loved to distraction(nothing positive about it).To be loved is a fine emotion but to be loved to distraction is very akin to hate.Sometimes (i have seen this is many relationships) love begets possessiveness,suspicion and control.Its because one loves someone so much and is afraid of loosing that person that the resultant behaviours surface.The pattern is the same.Except that in a relationship where love is the overriding emotion,the affected person finds it more difficult to leave.It is far more dangerous to someones well being but the behaviours that defines both is the same.
I don't believe we can call hate or love as positive or negative emotions(in psychology they are defined that way).Like all things in life,emotions also need balance.Extremism in any form destroys the social fabric of a person,a society and eventually the world.I have seen these emotions at close range and at the risk of being termed apathetic,I believe it better to err on the side of caution that to let ones emotions run riot.It the tipping point of dangerous behaviour.
Lingering
The word linger has been playing on my mind so checked out the meaning.Very appropriate for the current situation"to be alive while still dying""existence while loosing strength"...some of the usages.We talk of lingering perfume,in a very positive way,we see fans linger outside a concert and the stars are happy.But to see someone lingering and in pain knowing that the end is near but not in our hands....that is tragic.
Birth and death are two powerful activities in life over which we have no control.Some might argue that we have a better say in birth.But think about it,do we really.Can we predict when someone is being born or that someone will be born earlier than expected?.To some extent yes but not entirely.Death is even more difficult.We all know that life has to end.For some earlier than expected,to some suddenly but to some its a lingering fact.
Today sitting in hospital,watching my father struggle to breath or even to be able to watch the world go by,I wondered if it was all worth it.What is the point of lingering.Yet knowing him he is probably fed up of being ill,it probably plays on his mind that he is nearing then end and what does that do to a person.Its like being on death row.What does one do to escape,what does one know of life after death.Is is scary to leave it all and go alone?.
I pray that he is released from his suffering but then again who am I to decide.Do I know best or is it propelled by a selfish need for closure?.Can anyone be truly rational in such situations.
Sometimes I wish I was a made in Japan robot.I would have my feeling controlled by remote,everything would be programmed and I would have to go as per cue.But then again is that life.Maybe that poor robot thinks my life is far more interesting,its probably waiting to be like me,or at least something of a human and so its back to full circle.Humility is understand that we don't have too much control and what we perceive as control is actually an illusion.
Birth and death are two powerful activities in life over which we have no control.Some might argue that we have a better say in birth.But think about it,do we really.Can we predict when someone is being born or that someone will be born earlier than expected?.To some extent yes but not entirely.Death is even more difficult.We all know that life has to end.For some earlier than expected,to some suddenly but to some its a lingering fact.
Today sitting in hospital,watching my father struggle to breath or even to be able to watch the world go by,I wondered if it was all worth it.What is the point of lingering.Yet knowing him he is probably fed up of being ill,it probably plays on his mind that he is nearing then end and what does that do to a person.Its like being on death row.What does one do to escape,what does one know of life after death.Is is scary to leave it all and go alone?.
I pray that he is released from his suffering but then again who am I to decide.Do I know best or is it propelled by a selfish need for closure?.Can anyone be truly rational in such situations.
Sometimes I wish I was a made in Japan robot.I would have my feeling controlled by remote,everything would be programmed and I would have to go as per cue.But then again is that life.Maybe that poor robot thinks my life is far more interesting,its probably waiting to be like me,or at least something of a human and so its back to full circle.Humility is understand that we don't have too much control and what we perceive as control is actually an illusion.
Monday, January 28, 2008
Whats love got to do with it
Ours is the stuff that Hindi movies are made on.A freak road accident saw me lying on one of the city roads with head injuries(thanks to not wearing a helmet).The chap who picked me up(he recognised me as a friend) took me to a hospital close by,called all the other friends and was there when I came out of my semi coma and asked who I was and where I was.That was the beginning.I am grateful that he stoped when he did and took me to a decent hospital even though I looked like death.
The next month or so while I walked around on crutches,he was there every evening,talking to me giving me the latest on office gossip and the like.For me it was something to do and someone to talk to.At no point them did I imagine that I would write about this person one day because he has come to mean so much to me.
His persistence pays off.I had all my defences up when he came into my life.We are both very independent people with strong opinions and I for one was always in control.No relationship is allowed to wander from my terms so it was interesting that despite every resistance I put up he doubled his efforts to break it down.For six years he worked on it till I finally gave in.He has become too much a part of my life,I couldn't imagine not having him around so we did what most people do,we got married.
Amidst opposition and all odds we got married and escaped the same day so as not to face the music.Our friends despite having stood by us,gave the marriage a few years max.We were too headstrong to make it work or so we all imagined.
I think ten years of marriage is a good time to look back and wonder why it all worked out for us.For starters the credit goes to him.I am difficult at the best of times.Opinionated and not very open to change,I was always ready to have my own way.He on the other hand managed to get his own way while all the time making me believe that it was what I wanted.We had our fights,our tantrums and our differences,but mutual respect and a great deal of love is what comes through in the end.
He has stood by me through think and thin and looking back at the many personal problems that we have faced together,I attribute my sanity to a man who over the years has not only showered me with unconditional love but has taught me that family matters,that friends matter.His generosity and good sense has given us a close circle of friends(most of them are my friends who have become our friends) who will always be there when we need them.
Yesterday in one of our most difficult times,he steped in and while I was reduced to a hysterical wreck,he smiled and sorted out the issue with a firm but gentle hand.
I don't believe in mush and have scant regard for the typical Hollywood or even bollywood love stories which go on an on about love when they mean nothing.Its natural then that I debated on writing this blog,but like a friend of mine always says,one must acknowledge love at all times at all places and I am truly blessed to have found someone who can make such a difference to my life and to the life of my family.I started out calling him mister intensity because he saw everything in black and white and I always saw shades of grey but over then years we have enriched each others life and have achieved harmony and balance which I hope will only get better in the next decade or till death do us part.
The next month or so while I walked around on crutches,he was there every evening,talking to me giving me the latest on office gossip and the like.For me it was something to do and someone to talk to.At no point them did I imagine that I would write about this person one day because he has come to mean so much to me.
His persistence pays off.I had all my defences up when he came into my life.We are both very independent people with strong opinions and I for one was always in control.No relationship is allowed to wander from my terms so it was interesting that despite every resistance I put up he doubled his efforts to break it down.For six years he worked on it till I finally gave in.He has become too much a part of my life,I couldn't imagine not having him around so we did what most people do,we got married.
Amidst opposition and all odds we got married and escaped the same day so as not to face the music.Our friends despite having stood by us,gave the marriage a few years max.We were too headstrong to make it work or so we all imagined.
I think ten years of marriage is a good time to look back and wonder why it all worked out for us.For starters the credit goes to him.I am difficult at the best of times.Opinionated and not very open to change,I was always ready to have my own way.He on the other hand managed to get his own way while all the time making me believe that it was what I wanted.We had our fights,our tantrums and our differences,but mutual respect and a great deal of love is what comes through in the end.
He has stood by me through think and thin and looking back at the many personal problems that we have faced together,I attribute my sanity to a man who over the years has not only showered me with unconditional love but has taught me that family matters,that friends matter.His generosity and good sense has given us a close circle of friends(most of them are my friends who have become our friends) who will always be there when we need them.
Yesterday in one of our most difficult times,he steped in and while I was reduced to a hysterical wreck,he smiled and sorted out the issue with a firm but gentle hand.
I don't believe in mush and have scant regard for the typical Hollywood or even bollywood love stories which go on an on about love when they mean nothing.Its natural then that I debated on writing this blog,but like a friend of mine always says,one must acknowledge love at all times at all places and I am truly blessed to have found someone who can make such a difference to my life and to the life of my family.I started out calling him mister intensity because he saw everything in black and white and I always saw shades of grey but over then years we have enriched each others life and have achieved harmony and balance which I hope will only get better in the next decade or till death do us part.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
The sixth sense
Visiting people is not something I do very often,keeping in touch even less,but for some reason when I am faced with a family crisis I call people,visit people and find great relief in this activity.I also find that unconsciously I have over the years developed a great faith in this one activity.I find that if I talk about a particular activity or a crisis or even something as mundane as planning a holiday,then the said situation will never happen.Which is why I refuse to plan.Everything till date has been a spur of the moment decision.Ive noticed this happening so often that when I don't want something to happen,I talk about it to the whole world and his uncle.
Its funny that the brain....mind...whatever....works this way.On the one hand rational self tell me this is just a load of rubbish,but the emotive mind says this is true.
The recent crisis with my father had made me turn to my emotive mind.I have been calling up cousins that I talk to once in two years or less,I have been emailing friends and visiting people,all the time talking of my crisis,hoping that it will go away.This feeling is so strong that when i was planning to get married,I didn't even talk to my closest friends about it.When I went around with the husband(then boyfriend) for six years before we got married,no one was the wiser.So worried was I that if I let anyone know then it would all be off.I am convinced that there is a sixth sense,for instance I know who is on the phone as it rings(90% of the time).Like birds I know when disaster will strike but over the years I have shut out my sixth sense.(some parts of it)Its too scary to deal with,it can drive one crazy.
So the mind plays at different levels.Its a choice to shut it out.It can be controlled but if even a little window is opened that free flowing thoughts and experiences can enter.The sixth sense (sometimes we call it superstition) works at a higher level and if we open our minds we all have it in us.The question is ....do we want to know.
Its funny that the brain....mind...whatever....works this way.On the one hand rational self tell me this is just a load of rubbish,but the emotive mind says this is true.
The recent crisis with my father had made me turn to my emotive mind.I have been calling up cousins that I talk to once in two years or less,I have been emailing friends and visiting people,all the time talking of my crisis,hoping that it will go away.This feeling is so strong that when i was planning to get married,I didn't even talk to my closest friends about it.When I went around with the husband(then boyfriend) for six years before we got married,no one was the wiser.So worried was I that if I let anyone know then it would all be off.I am convinced that there is a sixth sense,for instance I know who is on the phone as it rings(90% of the time).Like birds I know when disaster will strike but over the years I have shut out my sixth sense.(some parts of it)Its too scary to deal with,it can drive one crazy.
So the mind plays at different levels.Its a choice to shut it out.It can be controlled but if even a little window is opened that free flowing thoughts and experiences can enter.The sixth sense (sometimes we call it superstition) works at a higher level and if we open our minds we all have it in us.The question is ....do we want to know.
Monday, January 21, 2008
Brahmin girls and life
Today I told myself that the focus would turn from sadness and illness and talk instead of a community that has influenced my life greatly.I hit upon the idea when going through my address and friends list
At school all my friends were Anglo Indians,so we talked of dancing,music,food and parties besides reading.One I left the security of the Anglo Indian school,it was right into a christian college (for long the abode of the Syrian christian mallu girls.)Our class was almost full of them but we managed not to become clannish and my circle of friends had one christian and all the rest were Hindus.The interesting part was that among the Hindus,the girls who formed long relationships with me were the brahmin lot.The trend continued into university and well into work.
There are many jokes about this community.For one they are known to suffer from a superiority complex,for another,they are very tightfisted in money matters.They would carry conservatism to the extreme of not allowing non vegetarian food into their homes,not using vessels that lesser mortals like us(the hard core carnivore) use etc.
For some strange reason I was drawn to them(not by design).I didn't see their community,only the nice girls that they were,but in many subtle ways they influenced my life.
Hanging around with these girls meant that there was no extravagant spending,we spent on books,an occasional movie and the like.Since most of them are dead serious about studies,it forced me to dig into my books.The right marks were very important.The biggest asset was that my terrible command over the Tamil language became much better and by the time I was in the work force,my Tamil could put any self respecting brahmin to shame.
At the workplace I was soon to meet three very significant brahmin girls.They were like chalk to cheese.One was a well dressed,well travelled and a very confident woman who sometimes got on our nerves for her strict rules and her attitude to life.She could make you feel like a worm very often because her choice of words and lifestyle was nowhere near ours,but we learnt from her to project a particular image,she taught us how to conduct ourselves at the work place.As a senior woman(very few in those days) in the corporate world we copied her haughtiness and carriage.She remains the same but over the years we also discovered the real person under the persona.
The other girl was more the party kind,she was determined to live life to the hilt while at the same time investing well and always conscious of the rainy day.We learnt to relax with her,interact with men on an easier level and we had great times dancing the night away on many occasions.We were always the first on the dance floor and the last to get off.She introduced us to fun,life at its best in gay abandon.
The third person was a lot more restrained,her head for research and business was no match for us.She would study and research the most mundane things.From buying a washing machine to planning a holiday,she collected a lot of date.Everything was an informed choice,nothing was left to chance.She influenced me so much that my first investment was a flat(she located it for me,I had to just pay up).She went on to influence the purchase of my first car.She gave me a life home in her car everyday and told me of all the good points,the sense in having ones own transport etc.She made so much sense,then she went on to give me ideas on loans,how did one get the best deal etc.Her home was the venue for our wedding planning.With her around along with the other two,everyone else found that duties were assigned and we (husband and I) had only to arrive at designated time at the place.
Today some twenty years later we don't meet so often but these girls have made me what I am,they have influence me in my financial planning,in my choice of jobs and maybe,just maybe in my choice of husbands.Here I am married to a nice brahmin boy with all the traits mentioned in the beginning of the article and thanks to these girls I know how to deal with his family.If there is a function in the husbands family,the girls will know exactly what gift will work,what dress code will be a hit and what to say when.
Today I pay tribute to a community (I think of it that way as most of my friends belonged to this community)which has greatly influenced my life and I hope I have done that to them too.
At school all my friends were Anglo Indians,so we talked of dancing,music,food and parties besides reading.One I left the security of the Anglo Indian school,it was right into a christian college (for long the abode of the Syrian christian mallu girls.)Our class was almost full of them but we managed not to become clannish and my circle of friends had one christian and all the rest were Hindus.The interesting part was that among the Hindus,the girls who formed long relationships with me were the brahmin lot.The trend continued into university and well into work.
There are many jokes about this community.For one they are known to suffer from a superiority complex,for another,they are very tightfisted in money matters.They would carry conservatism to the extreme of not allowing non vegetarian food into their homes,not using vessels that lesser mortals like us(the hard core carnivore) use etc.
For some strange reason I was drawn to them(not by design).I didn't see their community,only the nice girls that they were,but in many subtle ways they influenced my life.
Hanging around with these girls meant that there was no extravagant spending,we spent on books,an occasional movie and the like.Since most of them are dead serious about studies,it forced me to dig into my books.The right marks were very important.The biggest asset was that my terrible command over the Tamil language became much better and by the time I was in the work force,my Tamil could put any self respecting brahmin to shame.
At the workplace I was soon to meet three very significant brahmin girls.They were like chalk to cheese.One was a well dressed,well travelled and a very confident woman who sometimes got on our nerves for her strict rules and her attitude to life.She could make you feel like a worm very often because her choice of words and lifestyle was nowhere near ours,but we learnt from her to project a particular image,she taught us how to conduct ourselves at the work place.As a senior woman(very few in those days) in the corporate world we copied her haughtiness and carriage.She remains the same but over the years we also discovered the real person under the persona.
The other girl was more the party kind,she was determined to live life to the hilt while at the same time investing well and always conscious of the rainy day.We learnt to relax with her,interact with men on an easier level and we had great times dancing the night away on many occasions.We were always the first on the dance floor and the last to get off.She introduced us to fun,life at its best in gay abandon.
The third person was a lot more restrained,her head for research and business was no match for us.She would study and research the most mundane things.From buying a washing machine to planning a holiday,she collected a lot of date.Everything was an informed choice,nothing was left to chance.She influenced me so much that my first investment was a flat(she located it for me,I had to just pay up).She went on to influence the purchase of my first car.She gave me a life home in her car everyday and told me of all the good points,the sense in having ones own transport etc.She made so much sense,then she went on to give me ideas on loans,how did one get the best deal etc.Her home was the venue for our wedding planning.With her around along with the other two,everyone else found that duties were assigned and we (husband and I) had only to arrive at designated time at the place.
Today some twenty years later we don't meet so often but these girls have made me what I am,they have influence me in my financial planning,in my choice of jobs and maybe,just maybe in my choice of husbands.Here I am married to a nice brahmin boy with all the traits mentioned in the beginning of the article and thanks to these girls I know how to deal with his family.If there is a function in the husbands family,the girls will know exactly what gift will work,what dress code will be a hit and what to say when.
Today I pay tribute to a community (I think of it that way as most of my friends belonged to this community)which has greatly influenced my life and I hope I have done that to them too.
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Ignorance and Sports
Reading the newspaper every morning was one thing that a lot of our generation was made to do.I believe its because that was our source of general knowledge(big deal when we were kids)I willed myself to reading it but over the years managed to keep abreast of things mostly political.
One section of the paper I was happy to do without was the sports pages.Today I know that sports pages of newspapers are a big deal and people can watch any amount of TV but will continue to read all of it over again in the newspaper.Not me(I am sure there are lots of people like me)I even skip the pages which have great pictures.Not being a great fan of any sport I cant see the need to do so.
In a country that is obsessed with cricket,this (not reading the cricket news or watching TV)can be a big issue.Today I realised how difficult it is to relate to someone who loves sports.My dad who is in hospital is simply dying to know the news so in all goodness I took the paper along all ready to read aloud to him.The news was so dull I wondered what would interest him so we turned to the business page.He needed to know the latest in the business space so the fact that the sensex had droped 600 odd points was news to him,then he wanted to know what happened to Justine Henin at the Australian open.Ignorant me didn't even know that the Australian open was on so I scrambled through the news to find nothing on the woman.Next he asked about the cricket match between India and Australia and again I was blank.Oh dear, there I was with a headline that said something about V'VS Lakshman having pulled off a great deal but what was it.Read the whole story but couldn't find a single simple sentence that said what I wanted to know.It was a huge flop show.My dad politely told me that that was enough news for the day.I didn't read to him about Bobby Fisher dying as I censor all deaths to him.(no point in getting a man at his age depressed).
I packed up the paper but am still convinced that the sports pages are written badly,why don't they just tell us simple facts and then go on to the analysis.Why do the sports writers think that everyone has already watched it all on TV.Some of us old fashioned types do still read the paper you know.Well for one I haven't been converted to a sports page fan and have no intention of becoming one either,and as for the news,it shall be delegated to the husband who can spend hours on sports channels and read all the news on sports and store it away in his long term memory till kingdom come.So in the interests of looking at solutions,he shall be sent to break the news on India's performance against the Australians and going by the whoops and yells emanating form our TV room it ought to be good news.(that reads as India won the match)
One section of the paper I was happy to do without was the sports pages.Today I know that sports pages of newspapers are a big deal and people can watch any amount of TV but will continue to read all of it over again in the newspaper.Not me(I am sure there are lots of people like me)I even skip the pages which have great pictures.Not being a great fan of any sport I cant see the need to do so.
In a country that is obsessed with cricket,this (not reading the cricket news or watching TV)can be a big issue.Today I realised how difficult it is to relate to someone who loves sports.My dad who is in hospital is simply dying to know the news so in all goodness I took the paper along all ready to read aloud to him.The news was so dull I wondered what would interest him so we turned to the business page.He needed to know the latest in the business space so the fact that the sensex had droped 600 odd points was news to him,then he wanted to know what happened to Justine Henin at the Australian open.Ignorant me didn't even know that the Australian open was on so I scrambled through the news to find nothing on the woman.Next he asked about the cricket match between India and Australia and again I was blank.Oh dear, there I was with a headline that said something about V'VS Lakshman having pulled off a great deal but what was it.Read the whole story but couldn't find a single simple sentence that said what I wanted to know.It was a huge flop show.My dad politely told me that that was enough news for the day.I didn't read to him about Bobby Fisher dying as I censor all deaths to him.(no point in getting a man at his age depressed).
I packed up the paper but am still convinced that the sports pages are written badly,why don't they just tell us simple facts and then go on to the analysis.Why do the sports writers think that everyone has already watched it all on TV.Some of us old fashioned types do still read the paper you know.Well for one I haven't been converted to a sports page fan and have no intention of becoming one either,and as for the news,it shall be delegated to the husband who can spend hours on sports channels and read all the news on sports and store it away in his long term memory till kingdom come.So in the interests of looking at solutions,he shall be sent to break the news on India's performance against the Australians and going by the whoops and yells emanating form our TV room it ought to be good news.(that reads as India won the match)
Thursday, January 17, 2008
mail vans and ravens
Looking around I find that the red mail van is missing from roads today.I think there are fewer mail vans now.For years we held on to some of our superstitions.I am not superstitious by any stretch of imaginations but somethings are so much a part of our social and psychological fabric that we can never get away from them.Passing by the post office today brought it all back.
At school we believed that if we saw a red mail van(colour very important even though there is only one colour)we had to cross our fingers and could uncross them only when we came upon the next red van.To do so before that brought bad luck.Today with the advent of the email the mail van has disappeared and so has our superstition.
One of the great superstitions that remain to this day is the one on ravens.It goes like this,one for sorrow,two for joy,three for letter,four for boy,five for silver,six for gold and seven for secrets that will never be told.Of course the raven is not so common so its unlikely that we would find either the boy or the silver or gold but the sorrow and joy was very likely.We all went into a tizzy if we saw one raven,the quickest way to pass off the bad luck was to point the bird to another friend.If we saw one in the morning the whole day would be ruined,if we saw one before the test then we were convinced that it would be a failure.It was so ingrained in our psyche that even when something did happen(not related to the bird) we attributed it to the bird in question.Two of them always brought a smile to our faces.
The other superstition(I think this has its origins in Kerala or in some part of India) was that one should never set out as a threesome to any important discussion....it was bound to flop,so if the parents were off to see a girl or boy(as in arranging a marriage) they would go as two or four and never three.If we left the house on some important mission and had to come back as soon as we step out the door(for having forgotten something)we would have to sit down and drink a glass of water to get the bad luck out.
Touching wood is another superstition that has been around for ages.Its so much a part of our lives that we always touch wood without thinking about it.
Horseshoes are another big deal.One is never sure if it has to be hung upwards or downwards but one thing is for sure.The shoe has to have fallen off the horses foot naturally to be of any luck.
Wearing new clothes inside out was a sure sign of getting a new set(I always did this on purpose hoping my mom would get me another set,unfortunately she claimed not to have heard of this little bit of superstition).
Eating the last bit of food on a plate made you a spinster for life so we were all careful not to do so(there was a time when we thought spinsterhood was a bad thing till we knew better).
One very strange one was that a bumper harvest always signaled death in the family.It translated into smaller versions that included plants in the garden or balcony.So if your plants are looking unusually healthy be warned.
On mondy Thursday,most mallu Syrian christian homes baked a rice pudding.It was made with rice flour,yeast and toddy(vattaiappam).If it came out perfect all was well but God forbid it cracked in the middle,it was a sure sign of death in the family.My mother was so terrified of this superstition that we stoped making this appam in our house on mondy thursday.It was ok to make it on other days.
I am trying to research the beginnings of all these superstitions,myths and legends but its amazing how when we buy into something with no logical explanation,it can still rule our minds despite our rational minds telling us that its all a load of rubbish.
At school we believed that if we saw a red mail van(colour very important even though there is only one colour)we had to cross our fingers and could uncross them only when we came upon the next red van.To do so before that brought bad luck.Today with the advent of the email the mail van has disappeared and so has our superstition.
One of the great superstitions that remain to this day is the one on ravens.It goes like this,one for sorrow,two for joy,three for letter,four for boy,five for silver,six for gold and seven for secrets that will never be told.Of course the raven is not so common so its unlikely that we would find either the boy or the silver or gold but the sorrow and joy was very likely.We all went into a tizzy if we saw one raven,the quickest way to pass off the bad luck was to point the bird to another friend.If we saw one in the morning the whole day would be ruined,if we saw one before the test then we were convinced that it would be a failure.It was so ingrained in our psyche that even when something did happen(not related to the bird) we attributed it to the bird in question.Two of them always brought a smile to our faces.
The other superstition(I think this has its origins in Kerala or in some part of India) was that one should never set out as a threesome to any important discussion....it was bound to flop,so if the parents were off to see a girl or boy(as in arranging a marriage) they would go as two or four and never three.If we left the house on some important mission and had to come back as soon as we step out the door(for having forgotten something)we would have to sit down and drink a glass of water to get the bad luck out.
Touching wood is another superstition that has been around for ages.Its so much a part of our lives that we always touch wood without thinking about it.
Horseshoes are another big deal.One is never sure if it has to be hung upwards or downwards but one thing is for sure.The shoe has to have fallen off the horses foot naturally to be of any luck.
Wearing new clothes inside out was a sure sign of getting a new set(I always did this on purpose hoping my mom would get me another set,unfortunately she claimed not to have heard of this little bit of superstition).
Eating the last bit of food on a plate made you a spinster for life so we were all careful not to do so(there was a time when we thought spinsterhood was a bad thing till we knew better).
One very strange one was that a bumper harvest always signaled death in the family.It translated into smaller versions that included plants in the garden or balcony.So if your plants are looking unusually healthy be warned.
On mondy Thursday,most mallu Syrian christian homes baked a rice pudding.It was made with rice flour,yeast and toddy(vattaiappam).If it came out perfect all was well but God forbid it cracked in the middle,it was a sure sign of death in the family.My mother was so terrified of this superstition that we stoped making this appam in our house on mondy thursday.It was ok to make it on other days.
I am trying to research the beginnings of all these superstitions,myths and legends but its amazing how when we buy into something with no logical explanation,it can still rule our minds despite our rational minds telling us that its all a load of rubbish.
Ties that bind
It takes a crisis to bring people closer together,to find out more about each other,to discover our strengths and weaknesses.It strengthens bonds which we take for granted .
The last few days have been the only time in a long while when all my sisters and our families have been under one roof and in shared circumstances.It has been a time of learning and I have found that taking all the decisions for so many years has been hard and that two or three heads are better than one.
Its also been a time when we have looked at solutions instead of focusing on problems.We have renewed our ties with close members of our family,cousins we have been out of touch with,aunts and uncles and friends we had forgotten.We have found that each member on this chain has something to contribute,from finding help to helping out with Church and religious affairs(we are not too clued in on our religious side).We have learnt to count our blessings.In a short span of time we have found house help(expensive but worth it).From having no one to having someone round the clock is a great leap in time.We have discovered that some of the things we did in the past is now coming in handy.We have learnt to communicate better with each other and to lean on each other more.We are not out of the woods as yet and there is a long way to go but besides bringing our own family closer we have also discovered the kindness of strangers,we have had help from the most unexpected quarters and for this we are grateful.To us this is a sign that God is in his heaven and all is right in the world.
The last few days have been the only time in a long while when all my sisters and our families have been under one roof and in shared circumstances.It has been a time of learning and I have found that taking all the decisions for so many years has been hard and that two or three heads are better than one.
Its also been a time when we have looked at solutions instead of focusing on problems.We have renewed our ties with close members of our family,cousins we have been out of touch with,aunts and uncles and friends we had forgotten.We have found that each member on this chain has something to contribute,from finding help to helping out with Church and religious affairs(we are not too clued in on our religious side).We have learnt to count our blessings.In a short span of time we have found house help(expensive but worth it).From having no one to having someone round the clock is a great leap in time.We have discovered that some of the things we did in the past is now coming in handy.We have learnt to communicate better with each other and to lean on each other more.We are not out of the woods as yet and there is a long way to go but besides bringing our own family closer we have also discovered the kindness of strangers,we have had help from the most unexpected quarters and for this we are grateful.To us this is a sign that God is in his heaven and all is right in the world.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
reverse generation gap
We all have different ways of dealing with stress,sorrow and other emotions.In our hour of crisis,my mother gets defensive and cold,one sister gets clinical while my elder sister and I write,she writes in long hand and I blog.
This afternoon we talked...my sister and I about forgiveness and sadness.We believe that as one grows old and frail,its time to focus on the good things in life,the happy memories,the things the other person did for us.We focused today on our father.
He at some level is an intelligent man,his knowledge gathered from books,newspapers,magazines movies and other ways.If the Internet was ready in his time he would have been a member of face book or orkut.
His choice music channel is VH1 or MTV.He is a great fan of shakira,the backstreet boys and some others I have no clue about.At 87 his choice of music is so strange we have a reverse generation gap.I discovered how out of date I was when I tried cheering him up by loaning him my Ipod.He then tells me my music is old fashioned.Didn't he remember that he introduced me to the listeners choice programme on radio,he made me listen to radio Ceylon and radio Australia.I am caught in time wrap while my father embraced youth.His active mind sought out the trendy and the modern.He found more in common with his 30 something grandson than with his 40 something daughter.
Today as I watch him fighting for life,I am sad and broken hearted for the active mind is housed in a body that is fast giving up and to see that happen is the worst thing in life.I hold his hand in the ICU and fight desperately to hold back tears.....i don't want him to see me cry but he is an intelligent man and knows that I am not telling him the whole truth.I walk away because I cant deal with it and my elder sister and I compare notes.We see things in similar ways and our sorrow is the other side of joy....complicated but that's life.
This afternoon we talked...my sister and I about forgiveness and sadness.We believe that as one grows old and frail,its time to focus on the good things in life,the happy memories,the things the other person did for us.We focused today on our father.
He at some level is an intelligent man,his knowledge gathered from books,newspapers,magazines movies and other ways.If the Internet was ready in his time he would have been a member of face book or orkut.
His choice music channel is VH1 or MTV.He is a great fan of shakira,the backstreet boys and some others I have no clue about.At 87 his choice of music is so strange we have a reverse generation gap.I discovered how out of date I was when I tried cheering him up by loaning him my Ipod.He then tells me my music is old fashioned.Didn't he remember that he introduced me to the listeners choice programme on radio,he made me listen to radio Ceylon and radio Australia.I am caught in time wrap while my father embraced youth.His active mind sought out the trendy and the modern.He found more in common with his 30 something grandson than with his 40 something daughter.
Today as I watch him fighting for life,I am sad and broken hearted for the active mind is housed in a body that is fast giving up and to see that happen is the worst thing in life.I hold his hand in the ICU and fight desperately to hold back tears.....i don't want him to see me cry but he is an intelligent man and knows that I am not telling him the whole truth.I walk away because I cant deal with it and my elder sister and I compare notes.We see things in similar ways and our sorrow is the other side of joy....complicated but that's life.
The ICU wait
I sit vigil outside the ICU while my father battles inside under an onslaught of tubes and machines.He fades in and out of consciousness and the doctors move in and around.It all started with him being unwell and then getting better and I was under the mistaken notion that he was on the way to recovery.However after putting people in place to help i got on with my life.
Long years of being with the parents has tuned my mind to a different wave length.I know when trouble brews.On Sunday I slept well but saw some strange dreams which woke me up with this disturbed feeling and It turns out my father needed to be taken to the hospital.
Forty five minutes for an ambulance,even more for medical attention and finally when the BP dropped and continued to drop they wheeled him into the ICU
My sister and I waited outside for an hour and the news wasn't good.They told us that this was the end and we needed to inform the rest of the family.I have never been more glad to have an elder sister around.While I dissolved into tears,she handled the phone calls and decided what to do while calming me down as well.My husband had been summoned and his instant reaction was that while there is life there is hope.
My delima is this,while I agree with him on that front,I cant bear to see my father suffer.My relationship with him hasn't been anything to write home about.There has been more drama and fights than happy memories but I can never forget that my father stood against the tide where education was concerned.He ensured that all the girls went to the best schools and colleges,he instilled in us a great curiosity to see beyond our books,so we listened to music watched the movies and read like there is no tomorrow.It was probably one of the smarted things he did for us.
He hasn't left us rich in the money sense but his investments helped me get my first flat.He is a strange man and over the years I have left behind the bad memories and learned to appreciate what he went through.
Today there are conflicting views on what we need to do.The doctors don't hold out much hope.Do we stop the medication and let him die or do we give him a chance to survive.Its a conflict and my heart breaks as I don't know.He continues to battle for his life against odds and I having done everything I can ,can only pray,pray hard that he doesn't suffer too much,pray hard that the good life he has had will end in peace and grace,but the agony of waiting is hard.Its probably harder for him knowing that this is probably the end.
I don't know how I will handle all this but right now the questions remain on life and its meaning and despite all my calm I worry,I don't want to face up to it,I don't want to deal with it but I have no choice.
Long years of being with the parents has tuned my mind to a different wave length.I know when trouble brews.On Sunday I slept well but saw some strange dreams which woke me up with this disturbed feeling and It turns out my father needed to be taken to the hospital.
Forty five minutes for an ambulance,even more for medical attention and finally when the BP dropped and continued to drop they wheeled him into the ICU
My sister and I waited outside for an hour and the news wasn't good.They told us that this was the end and we needed to inform the rest of the family.I have never been more glad to have an elder sister around.While I dissolved into tears,she handled the phone calls and decided what to do while calming me down as well.My husband had been summoned and his instant reaction was that while there is life there is hope.
My delima is this,while I agree with him on that front,I cant bear to see my father suffer.My relationship with him hasn't been anything to write home about.There has been more drama and fights than happy memories but I can never forget that my father stood against the tide where education was concerned.He ensured that all the girls went to the best schools and colleges,he instilled in us a great curiosity to see beyond our books,so we listened to music watched the movies and read like there is no tomorrow.It was probably one of the smarted things he did for us.
He hasn't left us rich in the money sense but his investments helped me get my first flat.He is a strange man and over the years I have left behind the bad memories and learned to appreciate what he went through.
Today there are conflicting views on what we need to do.The doctors don't hold out much hope.Do we stop the medication and let him die or do we give him a chance to survive.Its a conflict and my heart breaks as I don't know.He continues to battle for his life against odds and I having done everything I can ,can only pray,pray hard that he doesn't suffer too much,pray hard that the good life he has had will end in peace and grace,but the agony of waiting is hard.Its probably harder for him knowing that this is probably the end.
I don't know how I will handle all this but right now the questions remain on life and its meaning and despite all my calm I worry,I don't want to face up to it,I don't want to deal with it but I have no choice.
Friday, January 11, 2008
My mad mad mind
Yesterday,I discovered what it felt like to be van Gog.I was steadily loosing my mind,and by the evening the deterioration was complete.I am not sure what brought it along.Probably an anxiety attack but the point is it was scary.I had lost control.Lets face it the stress has been building up for a while and when there is no one to talk to it all goes into ones system.Additionally I had to discharge a sick father from hospital.Just as that was done I had to rush to office to do interviews.May have been pleasant if I didn't have to meet the kind of people I do.They were the kind i would have nothing to do with.Add to that there was no time for lunch and before I knew it the chemicals in my brain had got the better of me.Slowly I was reduced to tears,if someone spoke to me I was hysterical,driving in that state is dangerous but I had not choice but to reach home and then it all come apart.At that point the wise thing would have been to take a sedative and go to sleep but I have this great fear of getting addicted so there it was,handling it all in a sane manner(if that is possible).By the time the husband arrived all hell had broken loose.He had called the mother(mine....bad decision) and the sisters called and I was a wreck.
I finally fell into a tired sleep.This morning I seem back to normal self.I am still trying to figure out what happened,I am trying to recreate the events that led to the breakdown.Its not a nice feeling and thank god I am not some creative genius because I may have cut off my ear at this rate.Oh to be normal again.
I finally fell into a tired sleep.This morning I seem back to normal self.I am still trying to figure out what happened,I am trying to recreate the events that led to the breakdown.Its not a nice feeling and thank god I am not some creative genius because I may have cut off my ear at this rate.Oh to be normal again.
Discrimination right here
Everyone who goes abroad comes back with some story or the other about racial discrimination.I was warned about it in Spain,France and Germany but lucky me never had to face it.For now no one seems to be able to slot me into a nationality so that's a blessing,so many times I am mistaken for south American,Spanish etc.Suites me fine as otherwise I would draw unnecessary attention to myself.So for me racial discrimination exists somewhere.
Until today...right here in good old Chennai.Here is a so called lifestyle store called the Amethyst.Its usually full of the hip and happening and is a complete rip off.Not the kind of place I frequent but one is expected to sit there for hours sending mail or reading and generally meeting friends.Nice ambiance,old house et all but for the staff and the owner(i believe it all stems from the top).
Today i sat there reading my paper waiting to get...first of all a menu card.It took around 30 minutes for someone to condescend to give me one.Then no amount of attracting the attention of the waiter would help.The place you see was filled with white skins.Around 90% of the people there were not Indian.Were the waiters trained to attend only to the white skins.There they were at the beck and call of all them foreigners and not one of them bothered to come over to take the order.Am I surprised?....not really,on many occasions when I have been forced to meet someone at that place I have seen this happening.We talk of racial discrimination abroad but its alive and kicking right here in Madras and it makes me feel sick.If we cant appreciate what we have in our own country then we have no business complaining about being discriminated against.Places like these run by people who are still slaves to the white man will continue to treat the ones at home with scant respect.Unfortunately these places also hog the media limelight despite the rip off prices,the highly overrated ambiance and the slack service or just the lack of it.I believe its criminal on my part to even be seen there so the next time someone suggests the place guess I will have to decline.
Until today...right here in good old Chennai.Here is a so called lifestyle store called the Amethyst.Its usually full of the hip and happening and is a complete rip off.Not the kind of place I frequent but one is expected to sit there for hours sending mail or reading and generally meeting friends.Nice ambiance,old house et all but for the staff and the owner(i believe it all stems from the top).
Today i sat there reading my paper waiting to get...first of all a menu card.It took around 30 minutes for someone to condescend to give me one.Then no amount of attracting the attention of the waiter would help.The place you see was filled with white skins.Around 90% of the people there were not Indian.Were the waiters trained to attend only to the white skins.There they were at the beck and call of all them foreigners and not one of them bothered to come over to take the order.Am I surprised?....not really,on many occasions when I have been forced to meet someone at that place I have seen this happening.We talk of racial discrimination abroad but its alive and kicking right here in Madras and it makes me feel sick.If we cant appreciate what we have in our own country then we have no business complaining about being discriminated against.Places like these run by people who are still slaves to the white man will continue to treat the ones at home with scant respect.Unfortunately these places also hog the media limelight despite the rip off prices,the highly overrated ambiance and the slack service or just the lack of it.I believe its criminal on my part to even be seen there so the next time someone suggests the place guess I will have to decline.
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
My diary
Just realised that its over a year since I started this blog.Why did I?.Well at that point I was bored out of my skull and couldn't stick to anything for too long.This was yet another experiment but its become part of me.Its a great feeling to write,just about anything.It clears my mind and it brings back things long forgotten and a lot of my friends and family read but like me they are far too lazy to leave comments so I guess I should be happy just being me.
I started my first diary when I was six.My elder sister gave me a readers digest pocket diary(she thought a six year old wont have much to write home about)and I was so trilled that it went on till I was around twelve.I reread my six year old writing when I was around thirteen and was shocked at how my life revolved around the number of times I had had to go to the loo,or the number of times I ate with a faithful detail of the menu.Looks like I had this great weakness for Amul butter and hot rice.
My uncle in Kerala chanced on the diary once and was suitably impressed with my detailed account of my trips to the loo.You see a lot of it was written while on holiday in Kerala(my wise sister thought that was the best way to keep me out of her hair).The loo was always a good mile walk from the main house.It required climbing down many a mud step to reach the place which smelt of fresh earth,mulberries and centipedes.My sisters would have to fetch water from the well and bring it along.I wasn't allowed to draw water as the weight of the bucket and I were around the same and by some convoluted Kerala physics,that meant that there was every chance of my falling into the well so best avoided.Because the loo was so far away and I had this huge fear that I wouldn't be able to control myself,I would run very often(more than necessary)just to be safe.My biggest fears were the nights.My sisters refused to leave the house at night and poor me was forced to use the vegetable patch.That was traumatic as I was convinced that all the goblins were out to get me(my sister read tons of fairy tales to me everyday and it fuelled an already active imagination)Besides which there was a pig at home who for some strange reason has a fascination for a bare bottom(especially if it belonged to a child).I think I had plenty to write home about even if it was only about my loo trips.Till date most of what I remember of that house is its loo.
I started my first diary when I was six.My elder sister gave me a readers digest pocket diary(she thought a six year old wont have much to write home about)and I was so trilled that it went on till I was around twelve.I reread my six year old writing when I was around thirteen and was shocked at how my life revolved around the number of times I had had to go to the loo,or the number of times I ate with a faithful detail of the menu.Looks like I had this great weakness for Amul butter and hot rice.
My uncle in Kerala chanced on the diary once and was suitably impressed with my detailed account of my trips to the loo.You see a lot of it was written while on holiday in Kerala(my wise sister thought that was the best way to keep me out of her hair).The loo was always a good mile walk from the main house.It required climbing down many a mud step to reach the place which smelt of fresh earth,mulberries and centipedes.My sisters would have to fetch water from the well and bring it along.I wasn't allowed to draw water as the weight of the bucket and I were around the same and by some convoluted Kerala physics,that meant that there was every chance of my falling into the well so best avoided.Because the loo was so far away and I had this huge fear that I wouldn't be able to control myself,I would run very often(more than necessary)just to be safe.My biggest fears were the nights.My sisters refused to leave the house at night and poor me was forced to use the vegetable patch.That was traumatic as I was convinced that all the goblins were out to get me(my sister read tons of fairy tales to me everyday and it fuelled an already active imagination)Besides which there was a pig at home who for some strange reason has a fascination for a bare bottom(especially if it belonged to a child).I think I had plenty to write home about even if it was only about my loo trips.Till date most of what I remember of that house is its loo.
Tuesday, January 08, 2008
Chemistry and bike rides
Starting to write about old friends,set off a chain,old friends called recalling old memories so I decided that we were an interesting bunch and some more stories should follow.
Over the years we added on to our gang,but the core group remained the same.For around six years the old gang met almost every evening.Since the chemistry was being designed by Chubby and Intensity,there was a lot of plotting and planning going on which if one was not in the know,could slip past.
It happened pretty suddenly one evening.There I was walking to the bus stop(we didn't have our own transport then) and the two of them walk up to me casually and ask for some help in choosing clothes.The Raymond shop being close by didn't give me a clue so I graciously agreed to help.The general idea was to choose something for intensity as he couldn't make up his mind(i figured out later that he was very good and making up his mind and has no issues on clarity of thinking).I went through a lot of stuff and finally decided on something by which time it was well after eight in the night.Of course Chubby then decided that it was too late for nice girls to be going home alone so he casually mentioned that Intensity lived near my place and could he drop me home(chubby was my friend at that time and he was the common link so took it upon himself to be spokesperson)Intensity jumped at it but not before putting forth his own idea of a bite before we took off,so we landed up eating something at which point he tells"you have a lovely voice.(I nearly chocked on my milkshake,since when did I have a nice voice...and now he complains that its a squeak)Well after that there was no point in refusing though I had my doubts then if all was as innocent as I thought it was.I never realised until many years later that that was what hitting on was in those days.Poor me on a mites salary was more than happy to get a ride and a free meal and he didn't seem like a bad sort(or I thought I could deal with him).Well he drove like a bat out of hell (think he was showing off,and does so even now)and landed me home safe and sound,hung around at the gate to do small talk(and I was wondering when he would just go home).
The next day was just a casual "would you like a lift home" and then it kind of became a regular thing.I believe the first part of their plan had worked beautifully.
Over the years we added on to our gang,but the core group remained the same.For around six years the old gang met almost every evening.Since the chemistry was being designed by Chubby and Intensity,there was a lot of plotting and planning going on which if one was not in the know,could slip past.
It happened pretty suddenly one evening.There I was walking to the bus stop(we didn't have our own transport then) and the two of them walk up to me casually and ask for some help in choosing clothes.The Raymond shop being close by didn't give me a clue so I graciously agreed to help.The general idea was to choose something for intensity as he couldn't make up his mind(i figured out later that he was very good and making up his mind and has no issues on clarity of thinking).I went through a lot of stuff and finally decided on something by which time it was well after eight in the night.Of course Chubby then decided that it was too late for nice girls to be going home alone so he casually mentioned that Intensity lived near my place and could he drop me home(chubby was my friend at that time and he was the common link so took it upon himself to be spokesperson)Intensity jumped at it but not before putting forth his own idea of a bite before we took off,so we landed up eating something at which point he tells"you have a lovely voice.(I nearly chocked on my milkshake,since when did I have a nice voice...and now he complains that its a squeak)Well after that there was no point in refusing though I had my doubts then if all was as innocent as I thought it was.I never realised until many years later that that was what hitting on was in those days.Poor me on a mites salary was more than happy to get a ride and a free meal and he didn't seem like a bad sort(or I thought I could deal with him).Well he drove like a bat out of hell (think he was showing off,and does so even now)and landed me home safe and sound,hung around at the gate to do small talk(and I was wondering when he would just go home).
The next day was just a casual "would you like a lift home" and then it kind of became a regular thing.I believe the first part of their plan had worked beautifully.
Saturday, January 05, 2008
old age,old friends
I have lived with old age for the past ten years.Besides spotting my first grey hair and wrinkles,I have been witness to my parents grow old before my eyes.It is probably the most traumatic process in my life and it drains and saps me mentally and physically.If this is what it does to me I can imagine what it does to them.To be sick is not an easy situation,to be helpless and dependent is worse especially when one has been at the helm of things and run the show,taken decisions,been financially independent and so on.Today in the twilight years the tables are turned and its not easy to accept.
Opinions are divided on this situations.A number of my family probably think I make a big deal of it but to be in the situation is to know,to watch suffering is to feel and the best one can do is to bend over backward to ensure the best medical attention that money can buy.
Today was one such situation and I have to thank my friends from school and college.Over the last few years we have developed a network of old friends,girls we have dredged up from the past,girls who have grown up with me from the age of six and today those girls bailed me out.
Desperate with a father who is ill and not getting better,I had got hold of a doctor who actually makes house calls(a rare occurrence).My husband was instrumental in getting this organised and he supports in small but significant ways which help and support me psychologically.The doc ordered a number of test and the results proved that the father was on a real low keel probably needing hospitalisation.She recommended a geriatric doctor but didn't have his number.Desperate to get medical attention organised,I call the school girl network(why I don't know but I guess they know what i go through,they understand urgency without being told and all of them have old parents or parent and they know mine)She called a cousin who is a medical rep and gave me sketchy directions to the doc.While she did that,yet another schoolfriend located yet another school friend and help was arranged.
We got to the doc,organised the medication,got the phone number of emergency services and came home feeling a lot better.We may not have st oped nature in any way,but in my heart I am glad that I haven't written my dad off as being old enough to die.For me while there is life there is hope and I am convinced that I have to pull out all the stops to get the parents the best I can find.Too many in my family have died because they have been too far away from the nearest hospital.
It 8.30pm of yet another trying day and I will probably get hauled up for bunking work but its probably one thing I will not regret.
Opinions are divided on this situations.A number of my family probably think I make a big deal of it but to be in the situation is to know,to watch suffering is to feel and the best one can do is to bend over backward to ensure the best medical attention that money can buy.
Today was one such situation and I have to thank my friends from school and college.Over the last few years we have developed a network of old friends,girls we have dredged up from the past,girls who have grown up with me from the age of six and today those girls bailed me out.
Desperate with a father who is ill and not getting better,I had got hold of a doctor who actually makes house calls(a rare occurrence).My husband was instrumental in getting this organised and he supports in small but significant ways which help and support me psychologically.The doc ordered a number of test and the results proved that the father was on a real low keel probably needing hospitalisation.She recommended a geriatric doctor but didn't have his number.Desperate to get medical attention organised,I call the school girl network(why I don't know but I guess they know what i go through,they understand urgency without being told and all of them have old parents or parent and they know mine)She called a cousin who is a medical rep and gave me sketchy directions to the doc.While she did that,yet another schoolfriend located yet another school friend and help was arranged.
We got to the doc,organised the medication,got the phone number of emergency services and came home feeling a lot better.We may not have st oped nature in any way,but in my heart I am glad that I haven't written my dad off as being old enough to die.For me while there is life there is hope and I am convinced that I have to pull out all the stops to get the parents the best I can find.Too many in my family have died because they have been too far away from the nearest hospital.
It 8.30pm of yet another trying day and I will probably get hauled up for bunking work but its probably one thing I will not regret.
Thursday, January 03, 2008
our great pondy trip
The friends gang had put together a trip to Pondycherry,the chubby boy had a cousin who had a flat and a car.That twenty years ago was really something.We girls were warned that he was good looking but the rules of friendship did not permit hitting on friends cousins.We promised to keep to rules (I had no intentions of doing so if there was a good looking boy around but somethings are best not admitted).
The group was to have three boys,chubby,intensity and nice boy along with ms proper,reckless me and hip and happening other girl.Ms proper and I got cold feet as the departure date came along.In those days nice mallu girls didn't go away for weekend trips with gang of boys.So we put our heads together and decided that all parents had given permission to go (that's the story we would tell our respective mothers should they ask)and the boys were not to be mentioned.One of them was (nice boy)mentioned because he was married and that made him safe and very appropriate as chaperon.
So all packed we set off to the bus stand(we slummed it out in them days).Chubby and intensity had got all the chemistry worked out(we were unaware) so the seating arrangements were planned in advance,chubby would share bus seat with ms proper and intensity with me.Hip and happening was spoken for so was paired with nice boy.
The trip itself was rather dull.Chubby was all charm and grace in front and intensity was fast asleep even before the bus started(nothing has changed in that department).Of course he didn't last very long sleeping,made sure he woke up and talked.(i am pretty good at getting people to talk).Noticed for the first time that he had nice hands(have this thing for hands).
Arrive in the dead of night and no sign of cousin.Tired and dirty we are ready to kill chubby (he promised that his organisation skills were a notch above ours).Well ,before we got our knives out the cousin appeared.Hmm....rather nice.Six foot something (our gang was in the range of five feet something)and pretty good.Hip and happening was quick off the mark and made a beeline for cousin(all rules forgotten).We hung back(after all we cant be so blatant).Sometime in the night we got accommodation at the ashram.One huge room with dom beds.Ms proper and I were a bit taken aback(nice mallu girls didn't share rooms with boys,even friends)but since there wasn't a choice we buckled down to it.
The rest of the holiday went crazy,we spent the night playing cards.Intensity was very good at it(he still is tho now the rules have changed).Me -gave everyone a good facial(ponds cold cream taken from ms proper...you could count on her to have everything,band aid,cold cream,tissue etc)
The cousin was also now part of group and we insisted on taking pictures.The photos we go back to from time to time because it brings back so many memories.(many a dispute on who was hitting on who,but cant find the answer)
Next day,we went around the town in cousins car.Chubby decided to drive(he wasn't very good then).Unfortunately for us the governor decided to leave at that moment and we were there(bang in front of his car).His security detail tried in vain to get us off the road(i will be killed for this but chubby hadn't a clue how to move out of the way,so he kept to the straight line)We girls were convinced that the security chaps would blow our brains out(they were all there guns at the ready)so we got hysterical and yelled instructions which get chubby more confused.Well we just got away and so did the Governor(to this day raj bhavan pondy brings back that hilarious situation and i can laugh myself silly).
While we were out on the beach trying out stuff (hip and happening,tried her first cigarette,ms proper and I played in the water while the boys looked on,and nice boy kept watch....no mischief under his nose,he was in charge)nice boy got the food organised and cousin got the drinks done.Unfortunately the cousin was warned by chubby so he kept his distance from us (deeply disappointed at that turn of things...what are friends for and all that).
Time to leave and we find that nice boy had gone back to the room (unknown to us) and is fast asleep.There was a bus to catch and he refused to get up.Threw water on him and that got his goat.He yelled so much and gave us a talking to and asked us to leave him alone(I suspect two days with us was too much to handle)
So we were back on the bus and safe home but to this day,the entire gang will agree that that was one of the best days of our lives.
The group was to have three boys,chubby,intensity and nice boy along with ms proper,reckless me and hip and happening other girl.Ms proper and I got cold feet as the departure date came along.In those days nice mallu girls didn't go away for weekend trips with gang of boys.So we put our heads together and decided that all parents had given permission to go (that's the story we would tell our respective mothers should they ask)and the boys were not to be mentioned.One of them was (nice boy)mentioned because he was married and that made him safe and very appropriate as chaperon.
So all packed we set off to the bus stand(we slummed it out in them days).Chubby and intensity had got all the chemistry worked out(we were unaware) so the seating arrangements were planned in advance,chubby would share bus seat with ms proper and intensity with me.Hip and happening was spoken for so was paired with nice boy.
The trip itself was rather dull.Chubby was all charm and grace in front and intensity was fast asleep even before the bus started(nothing has changed in that department).Of course he didn't last very long sleeping,made sure he woke up and talked.(i am pretty good at getting people to talk).Noticed for the first time that he had nice hands(have this thing for hands).
Arrive in the dead of night and no sign of cousin.Tired and dirty we are ready to kill chubby (he promised that his organisation skills were a notch above ours).Well ,before we got our knives out the cousin appeared.Hmm....rather nice.Six foot something (our gang was in the range of five feet something)and pretty good.Hip and happening was quick off the mark and made a beeline for cousin(all rules forgotten).We hung back(after all we cant be so blatant).Sometime in the night we got accommodation at the ashram.One huge room with dom beds.Ms proper and I were a bit taken aback(nice mallu girls didn't share rooms with boys,even friends)but since there wasn't a choice we buckled down to it.
The rest of the holiday went crazy,we spent the night playing cards.Intensity was very good at it(he still is tho now the rules have changed).Me -gave everyone a good facial(ponds cold cream taken from ms proper...you could count on her to have everything,band aid,cold cream,tissue etc)
The cousin was also now part of group and we insisted on taking pictures.The photos we go back to from time to time because it brings back so many memories.(many a dispute on who was hitting on who,but cant find the answer)
Next day,we went around the town in cousins car.Chubby decided to drive(he wasn't very good then).Unfortunately for us the governor decided to leave at that moment and we were there(bang in front of his car).His security detail tried in vain to get us off the road(i will be killed for this but chubby hadn't a clue how to move out of the way,so he kept to the straight line)We girls were convinced that the security chaps would blow our brains out(they were all there guns at the ready)so we got hysterical and yelled instructions which get chubby more confused.Well we just got away and so did the Governor(to this day raj bhavan pondy brings back that hilarious situation and i can laugh myself silly).
While we were out on the beach trying out stuff (hip and happening,tried her first cigarette,ms proper and I played in the water while the boys looked on,and nice boy kept watch....no mischief under his nose,he was in charge)nice boy got the food organised and cousin got the drinks done.Unfortunately the cousin was warned by chubby so he kept his distance from us (deeply disappointed at that turn of things...what are friends for and all that).
Time to leave and we find that nice boy had gone back to the room (unknown to us) and is fast asleep.There was a bus to catch and he refused to get up.Threw water on him and that got his goat.He yelled so much and gave us a talking to and asked us to leave him alone(I suspect two days with us was too much to handle)
So we were back on the bus and safe home but to this day,the entire gang will agree that that was one of the best days of our lives.
Wednesday, January 02, 2008
friends
Fifteen years ago,when I joined a publishing house as a newcomer,there were hardly any people I could relate to.Desperate to get some company,I latched on to the only other girl in office.She had been around a year longer so knew her way around.There were of course others ,all sniffing around trying to figure out the new kid on the block but as a vary one I kept my distance and got a low down on each of them from the girl I had befriended.That done I got along with some of them but for the better part they were a set of secretive,mallus who one is best advised to keep away from.
Of course over the course of the next few years we had all become friends.Out of this office emerged a group of friends some four to begin with and which went on to perhaps six in all.Twenty years later,we still remain friends and still call on each other in times of crisis and pain.We have had our share of woes,our differences of opinion and our little fights.Despite the ups and downs the relationships flourished and merged so that now four of the original gang have become two(we married our good friends) and the others we meet when we visit their towns or call .
Why I am writing this?A short while ago (one of them who now has long chats with me on gmail )one of them and I were being nostalgic about those them days and I suggested we make a film on our lives in those wonder years.Knowing how lazy each of us is,I figured the best thing to do was blog.
It starts with the short curly haired mallu girl.She of the boarding school kind is very pucca,well mannered,neat to a fault and quiet the perfect little miss.Me...the exact opposite,reckless,untidy,always eating into her space at the work table(despite well worded protests).I sometimes think I did it just to bug her.She reminded me so much of my very proper sister.
The boys(who will now object violently to being called that).One chubby boy with glasses who joined my team and gave me a rose on the first day(give me a break who did he think he was)Amused,I gave him a little rope and we were thrown together so often that we ended up being friends.He was all charm and upmarket aftershave(indulgent sister in the states)His great fondness for unearthing even a remote possibility of a scandal was a great source of inspiration.With his half baked news and mine,we always arrived at the latest office gossip long before the others.
A year later chubby got his friend along to join us in the same organisation.Thin and pimply and a certain tightness (in later years I discovered it was intensity)this boy and I had a huge fight the day we met.Chubby enjoyed himself to the hilt but claimed later (in hindsight) that this was the beginning of a great romance between the boy and me.(to be taken with huge bag of salt despite it turning out to be true).
Over the next couple of months the boys for some strange reason always ended up with girl and me.It started with having lunch together,then trips to the beach(boys and girl had bike,I was always pillion).The beaches changes ,the winds changed and before we knew it there was something in the air.We didn't acknowledge it but the equations were there.Chubby and I on one team and girl and intense boy on the other.Healthy rivalry fuelled the friendship.It was a strange chemistry.Four people so alike and yet so different.Girl always laughed at intense boys jokes.I couldn't find anything funny about them and neither did chubby.Chubby and I loved to create intrigue and danger (it never existed) because that's what kept us going so we were branded together,moles we were constantly digging up dirt.
I think what kept this gang going was that one half was lazy ,indulgent,untidy and always hungry and the other was organised,dedicated,neat and very proper.
A couple of years later the gang expanded to include one more girl (hip,smart and out to enjoy life) and a boy (looked older than us) who lived on the edge.He was so different from us that he became friend instantly.Simple homespun charm was what he had and to this day he remains at heart the same chap.
The bonds remain even though we meet rarely but the stories and memories continue and we shall bring them up as and when memories bubble up.
(all characters in this story exist and even though they may protest about my descriptions,this is my version of the association)
Of course over the course of the next few years we had all become friends.Out of this office emerged a group of friends some four to begin with and which went on to perhaps six in all.Twenty years later,we still remain friends and still call on each other in times of crisis and pain.We have had our share of woes,our differences of opinion and our little fights.Despite the ups and downs the relationships flourished and merged so that now four of the original gang have become two(we married our good friends) and the others we meet when we visit their towns or call .
Why I am writing this?A short while ago (one of them who now has long chats with me on gmail )one of them and I were being nostalgic about those them days and I suggested we make a film on our lives in those wonder years.Knowing how lazy each of us is,I figured the best thing to do was blog.
It starts with the short curly haired mallu girl.She of the boarding school kind is very pucca,well mannered,neat to a fault and quiet the perfect little miss.Me...the exact opposite,reckless,untidy,always eating into her space at the work table(despite well worded protests).I sometimes think I did it just to bug her.She reminded me so much of my very proper sister.
The boys(who will now object violently to being called that).One chubby boy with glasses who joined my team and gave me a rose on the first day(give me a break who did he think he was)Amused,I gave him a little rope and we were thrown together so often that we ended up being friends.He was all charm and upmarket aftershave(indulgent sister in the states)His great fondness for unearthing even a remote possibility of a scandal was a great source of inspiration.With his half baked news and mine,we always arrived at the latest office gossip long before the others.
A year later chubby got his friend along to join us in the same organisation.Thin and pimply and a certain tightness (in later years I discovered it was intensity)this boy and I had a huge fight the day we met.Chubby enjoyed himself to the hilt but claimed later (in hindsight) that this was the beginning of a great romance between the boy and me.(to be taken with huge bag of salt despite it turning out to be true).
Over the next couple of months the boys for some strange reason always ended up with girl and me.It started with having lunch together,then trips to the beach(boys and girl had bike,I was always pillion).The beaches changes ,the winds changed and before we knew it there was something in the air.We didn't acknowledge it but the equations were there.Chubby and I on one team and girl and intense boy on the other.Healthy rivalry fuelled the friendship.It was a strange chemistry.Four people so alike and yet so different.Girl always laughed at intense boys jokes.I couldn't find anything funny about them and neither did chubby.Chubby and I loved to create intrigue and danger (it never existed) because that's what kept us going so we were branded together,moles we were constantly digging up dirt.
I think what kept this gang going was that one half was lazy ,indulgent,untidy and always hungry and the other was organised,dedicated,neat and very proper.
A couple of years later the gang expanded to include one more girl (hip,smart and out to enjoy life) and a boy (looked older than us) who lived on the edge.He was so different from us that he became friend instantly.Simple homespun charm was what he had and to this day he remains at heart the same chap.
The bonds remain even though we meet rarely but the stories and memories continue and we shall bring them up as and when memories bubble up.
(all characters in this story exist and even though they may protest about my descriptions,this is my version of the association)
Tuesday, January 01, 2008
ends and beginnings
Its a full circle now.Today the start of a new year with all its ups and downs.Last evening driving home in traffic,it struck me,difficult to explain but a certain something in the air.Clear anticipation.Was there less traffic,were there more crowds at shops,was everyone in a better mood.I cant figure it out but it was there,a certain atmosphere of a new beginning and it communicates in the air.By nightfall it was getting stronger.By midnight the crackers went off to summon the new year,sms messages non stop,parties late into the night.
The city was well prepared,the barricades were all ready at the beach front,the police was stationed at vantage points,hotels outdid themselves in creativity(some of it led to tragedy).How does a new year become so universal.In our country I can name a number of new years,tamil,punjabi and so on.According to different religions and stars but the New year of the Christian calender is universal.
This morning in church,some more history or myth but nevertheless interesting information.The new year was the baptism of the baby Jesus according to Jewish rights.This morning a 350 year old oil painting restored and rededicated to the church alter.This morning I knew all the hymns at church.I looked at the selection of hymns in awe.Yesterday I sang most of them in the car while in traffic.Why those songs....they were the favourites at school and this morning it all took me back to school assembly,the checking for clean nails,the hiding of dirty shoes,hoping the head teacher wouldn't notice,the playing of the piano for us to march in to assembly and like magic the priest at the church today was the uncle of the only boy who was a friend at school.It was indeed a trip down memory lane at the start of the year.
The city was well prepared,the barricades were all ready at the beach front,the police was stationed at vantage points,hotels outdid themselves in creativity(some of it led to tragedy).How does a new year become so universal.In our country I can name a number of new years,tamil,punjabi and so on.According to different religions and stars but the New year of the Christian calender is universal.
This morning in church,some more history or myth but nevertheless interesting information.The new year was the baptism of the baby Jesus according to Jewish rights.This morning a 350 year old oil painting restored and rededicated to the church alter.This morning I knew all the hymns at church.I looked at the selection of hymns in awe.Yesterday I sang most of them in the car while in traffic.Why those songs....they were the favourites at school and this morning it all took me back to school assembly,the checking for clean nails,the hiding of dirty shoes,hoping the head teacher wouldn't notice,the playing of the piano for us to march in to assembly and like magic the priest at the church today was the uncle of the only boy who was a friend at school.It was indeed a trip down memory lane at the start of the year.
Friday, December 28, 2007
The cobbler
last week in the mad rush of last minute gift buying,I dashed into a bookshop only to be stoped dead in my tracks thanks to the slipper giving way at the wrong time.One snap and I was stranded on the steps and up against a deadline.What did I do?....just two doors away was Metro shoes so I limped my way across,bought a pair for some 800 odd bucks(not even a pair that I would normally buy) and got back to bookstore with new shoes on and finished all my buying and didn't stop to think much.The broken pair of slippers were left behind in the shop.
A week later caught in peak traffic on mount road,I allowed myself the luxury of looking around at the world while I waited for the lights to change.On the pavement sat a dumpy woman and in front of her were a pair of men's shoes,a pair of boots and an elegant pair of high heeled shoes.She wasn't selling shoes,she was repairing them and then it struck me.I had discarded a pair of slippers without a thought and invested in a new pair.I didn't for a moment think of the possibility that it could be repaired and this is exactly what I would have done a few years ago.It was almost like oneupmanship on friends.All of us got our shoes resoled and redone at regular intervals and we had these shoes for years.Not for us the impulse buys or the throw aways,so what happened to all of us?.We got affluent,we got better pay and so called better lifestyles and in the process we forgot the small trills of life.The hunt for a cobbler near the scene of the broken shoe,the haggling over price of repair and the trill of getting our old shoe back.
The lights turned green and I had to go but at the back of my mind I wanted my broken slipper back,I want to locate a cobbler in that area and I want to stitch it back but alas that moment has passed and I have joined the ranks of the busy and the affluent and it takes a red traffic light for me to appreciate the small pleasures of life,but am I glad there is still some sensitivity left and some happy memories of friends and cobblers.
A week later caught in peak traffic on mount road,I allowed myself the luxury of looking around at the world while I waited for the lights to change.On the pavement sat a dumpy woman and in front of her were a pair of men's shoes,a pair of boots and an elegant pair of high heeled shoes.She wasn't selling shoes,she was repairing them and then it struck me.I had discarded a pair of slippers without a thought and invested in a new pair.I didn't for a moment think of the possibility that it could be repaired and this is exactly what I would have done a few years ago.It was almost like oneupmanship on friends.All of us got our shoes resoled and redone at regular intervals and we had these shoes for years.Not for us the impulse buys or the throw aways,so what happened to all of us?.We got affluent,we got better pay and so called better lifestyles and in the process we forgot the small trills of life.The hunt for a cobbler near the scene of the broken shoe,the haggling over price of repair and the trill of getting our old shoe back.
The lights turned green and I had to go but at the back of my mind I wanted my broken slipper back,I want to locate a cobbler in that area and I want to stitch it back but alas that moment has passed and I have joined the ranks of the busy and the affluent and it takes a red traffic light for me to appreciate the small pleasures of life,but am I glad there is still some sensitivity left and some happy memories of friends and cobblers.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
learning
I have had a lot of learning's this past week and suddenly I am pretty proud that I am still able to learn,still stay strangely innocent in a world where childhood,teens and adulthood are no longer separate stages in life or have each of them got shorter and seems that way.
For instance I went of work in Jeans.That was a first.Never done this but the world around me had changed dress code so what was I doing in my salwar kameeze?.Its pretty liberating to feel like one is back in college,and maybe somewhere my mind will do a flip back to some radical thinking like I did all those years ago.
I also discovered this new community of friends with benefits...for the uninitiated this is not about watching out for the gas man by friendly neighbours,its not about leaving your pet with friends while you holiday.This is simple,a relationship with no commitment,just sex on demand.I think that kind of sums it up.Interesting because by definition friends means commitment on way or the other so that didn't quiet ring true.Secondly these are communities of people who are perfectly sure of what they are getting into and most of them are pretty young(at least by my standards).They are all well aware that the heart may play to a different tune but they control their hearts so that's fine.It opened my eyes to the new age.I think this did exist in some form or the other in the hippie days but now its a norm among the young and restless.I marvel at their control over their hearts,their emotions.
I stop to wonder why for me those walks on the beach,roses and old fashioned chocolates,discussions on books and holidays and stuff like that was what I considered benefits.
I also learned to talk to people twenty years younger than me and stay connected.Its like starting over.I learned to lower my standards to suite the current situation,I am learning that peoples values have changed and while I don't have to change mine,I need to understand the change and deal with it.In between my black and white and grey world,there is a tinge of blue.Like I said I am getting a first hand lesson in emerging sociology and I am still discovering.Do I like what I see and hear?...well does it matter as long as I am aware of the changing world and lean to live in it.
For instance I went of work in Jeans.That was a first.Never done this but the world around me had changed dress code so what was I doing in my salwar kameeze?.Its pretty liberating to feel like one is back in college,and maybe somewhere my mind will do a flip back to some radical thinking like I did all those years ago.
I also discovered this new community of friends with benefits...for the uninitiated this is not about watching out for the gas man by friendly neighbours,its not about leaving your pet with friends while you holiday.This is simple,a relationship with no commitment,just sex on demand.I think that kind of sums it up.Interesting because by definition friends means commitment on way or the other so that didn't quiet ring true.Secondly these are communities of people who are perfectly sure of what they are getting into and most of them are pretty young(at least by my standards).They are all well aware that the heart may play to a different tune but they control their hearts so that's fine.It opened my eyes to the new age.I think this did exist in some form or the other in the hippie days but now its a norm among the young and restless.I marvel at their control over their hearts,their emotions.
I stop to wonder why for me those walks on the beach,roses and old fashioned chocolates,discussions on books and holidays and stuff like that was what I considered benefits.
I also learned to talk to people twenty years younger than me and stay connected.Its like starting over.I learned to lower my standards to suite the current situation,I am learning that peoples values have changed and while I don't have to change mine,I need to understand the change and deal with it.In between my black and white and grey world,there is a tinge of blue.Like I said I am getting a first hand lesson in emerging sociology and I am still discovering.Do I like what I see and hear?...well does it matter as long as I am aware of the changing world and lean to live in it.
Sunday, December 16, 2007
This too must pass
For me December is the cruelest month.Its the start of the end of the year,another ending as a prelude to yet another beginning.Mixed with happiness and sadness,both existing side by side.This December started like all others,except that that heavy sadness that envelopes me (despite the parties and the Christmas spirit) was missing.Its been too busy.
Well into the third week,and the sadness is all prevailing,news of loved ones passing on,the burden of having to break the news to old parents,the psychological handholding that needs to be done,its all taking its toll.I hope to wish it all away but its there,real stuff,cannot be avoided.The closer to Christmas and the sadness continues.
I have already attended two Christmas parties.Laughter,the spirit of Christmas good food and great friends,I enjoy myself,sing all the carols,laugh and enjoy myself and then it happens.This cloak of sadness deepens and wraps around me tighter.Its always there like a constant companion,despite the fun.
The Christmas tree is not up yet,after nine years,we want a new one.The annual Christmas party is still on the drawing board,despite friends telling me they are looking forward to it.Its the highlight of our year.It always has a friend from out of town and a few new people always but like all years the party will materialise at short notice.The apathy this year is killing.
A new job,meeting new people,new cities,travel,all this is what makes life interesting.It all that I wanted out of life and now its all here and I don't need it anymore.
This is a strange phase,its almost like being two people.One the party animal ready for any outing with friends,the other this brooding person.
Like some thick thunderclouds that clear suddenly to expose bright sunshine,I wait....black clouds always pass and this too shall pass.
Well into the third week,and the sadness is all prevailing,news of loved ones passing on,the burden of having to break the news to old parents,the psychological handholding that needs to be done,its all taking its toll.I hope to wish it all away but its there,real stuff,cannot be avoided.The closer to Christmas and the sadness continues.
I have already attended two Christmas parties.Laughter,the spirit of Christmas good food and great friends,I enjoy myself,sing all the carols,laugh and enjoy myself and then it happens.This cloak of sadness deepens and wraps around me tighter.Its always there like a constant companion,despite the fun.
The Christmas tree is not up yet,after nine years,we want a new one.The annual Christmas party is still on the drawing board,despite friends telling me they are looking forward to it.Its the highlight of our year.It always has a friend from out of town and a few new people always but like all years the party will materialise at short notice.The apathy this year is killing.
A new job,meeting new people,new cities,travel,all this is what makes life interesting.It all that I wanted out of life and now its all here and I don't need it anymore.
This is a strange phase,its almost like being two people.One the party animal ready for any outing with friends,the other this brooding person.
Like some thick thunderclouds that clear suddenly to expose bright sunshine,I wait....black clouds always pass and this too shall pass.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Womens best friend
In the last week I have had an overdose of rottweiler love.Like lady Macbeth I have had to wash my face and hands at regular intervals thanks to some lavish licking from a few over enthusiastic rottweilers.
My first reaction to being introduced to one of them was to run ten miles in the opposite direction.Here I was faced with the dogs from omen and from Hitlers SS forces and was I expected to be trilled.Most certainly not.To begin with they weigh some hundred pounds and look rather scary,but when they get to be friendly they are a class apart.My first encounter was a timid one.While my friend held tightly to the leash I tried patting the dog .At the first sign of a positive,reaction,I decided to be friends.Not sure if this was a good thing.For the next few hours I had to run and play hide and seek and get thrown over until in sheer exhaustion I had to call for a stop.Four years later I met the dog again.This time she was ill and her energy was not what it was.Long hours of talking didn't get much of a response so I sat her down and talked and tried to play but all she wanted was a bit of attention.She stayed for hours by my side and her liquid brown eyes conveyed a thousand unsaid things.I left the house wondering if i would see her again as the energy ball that she was.Didn't have the heart to say goodbye so left it at that.
Yesterday,I was introduced to two more of the same breed.One was a year old and she had made some unsuccessful attempts to get into my car and having failed to do so she settled for being a long lost friend.Unfortunately when a hundred pound animal throws itself at one its not easy to keep the balance.She was almost as tall as me and decided that two paws on shoulder was a good licking position.So there I was being greeted with a lot of doggy saliva.
The other dog was six months old and was far more interested in the happenings on the road though she loved all the attention.They have promised to come home for tea.
My first reaction to being introduced to one of them was to run ten miles in the opposite direction.Here I was faced with the dogs from omen and from Hitlers SS forces and was I expected to be trilled.Most certainly not.To begin with they weigh some hundred pounds and look rather scary,but when they get to be friendly they are a class apart.My first encounter was a timid one.While my friend held tightly to the leash I tried patting the dog .At the first sign of a positive,reaction,I decided to be friends.Not sure if this was a good thing.For the next few hours I had to run and play hide and seek and get thrown over until in sheer exhaustion I had to call for a stop.Four years later I met the dog again.This time she was ill and her energy was not what it was.Long hours of talking didn't get much of a response so I sat her down and talked and tried to play but all she wanted was a bit of attention.She stayed for hours by my side and her liquid brown eyes conveyed a thousand unsaid things.I left the house wondering if i would see her again as the energy ball that she was.Didn't have the heart to say goodbye so left it at that.
Yesterday,I was introduced to two more of the same breed.One was a year old and she had made some unsuccessful attempts to get into my car and having failed to do so she settled for being a long lost friend.Unfortunately when a hundred pound animal throws itself at one its not easy to keep the balance.She was almost as tall as me and decided that two paws on shoulder was a good licking position.So there I was being greeted with a lot of doggy saliva.
The other dog was six months old and was far more interested in the happenings on the road though she loved all the attention.They have promised to come home for tea.
Not everyone can understand my fascination with the rottweiler.From their unsavory reputation to being guard dogs,to killer dogs,they are probably the most misunderstood breed.The average Rottweiler like a lot of people is a loving and socialised dog provided the family that owns it instill the right values in the dog.All three that I know come from families that give them a lot of love and time and take them for walks and actually introduce them to their friends.Non of them are tied up because there are guest in the house.We had to get used to them and I for one hope to get a pup the moment I decide to stay at home full time.These original german dogs are as reliable as any peice of german technology that one can get today so for me it will always be a rottweiler
Monday, December 10, 2007
Weekend at sword hill
Valparai-sword rock as the literal translation would go is a small place up in the Annamalai range.As the name suggests this is an elephant hill and was the migratory path of the elephant into the forest.
By road this is a 13 km drive from Chennai and thanks to some excellent roads the drive is an absolute pleasure provided one can get away early morning well before city traffic can get to one.The smart way to get there is to take a train to Coimbatore and drive up the ghat sections with its 40 hairpin bends and take in the breathtaking view of the Aliya dam,which glistens in the afternoon sun and is a sight that cannot be described with words.
The estate we are heading to is close to a place called rotikadai which means bread shop and a bit of investigation into local folklore says that the British set up a bakery in the town to teach the locals to make bread as there was no bakery around in that place.They then named it rotikadai in Tamil and it continues to remain so long after the bakery has given way to tea shops.
The estate is everything that we want from a weekend getaway.The moment we arrive tea is served.Is it our imagination or is there something to be said for tea being drunk against the backdrop of tea gardens where the fresh green tea bushes form a thick carpet for miles on end.We sip tea in lovely china cups which shows up the colour of the brew to advantage.Thin egg sandwiches complete the picture of a land in time wrap.This is a throwback on the British raj and time stands still in this place.There is even a butler service at the house.
There is a lot to explore in this rambling home with its lush lawn and its stone garden seats that are meant for garden parties.The house is surrounded by vegetable gardens,flower gardens and the traditional Christmas trees that stand like sentinels to the house.An old swing is a great place to relive a childhood pastime.Like all estate home this also has a well stocked library with enough books to keep one occupied for months.
Saturday night the start of the season brings with it the Christmas spirit.Families from around estates meet at the club and enjoy a good evening sharing notes on the weeks happenings.Everyone has a well defines role and the wives share notes on children and home while the men drink their brandies and share whatever it is that they share.
Most of the homes in this region are made of stone or wood and as there are few people to occupy these once busy homes the estate wives have taken it upon themselves to convert this into an opportunity for Eco tourism.They open their doors to people travelling through or looking for a place to stay.Home cooked meals complete the experience
We come back home with our heads filled with stories of elephants and their habits.While us city folk worry about a rat or two in our kitchens,the estate folk of the elephant range worry about the wild beasts who have developed a taste for home cooked food and are busy checking out whats cooking in the estate kitchens.
When its time for us to leave we realise that we are relaxed beyond measure and we haven't missed our morning newspaper or the cell phone or the tv and life has been blissful
By road this is a 13 km drive from Chennai and thanks to some excellent roads the drive is an absolute pleasure provided one can get away early morning well before city traffic can get to one.The smart way to get there is to take a train to Coimbatore and drive up the ghat sections with its 40 hairpin bends and take in the breathtaking view of the Aliya dam,which glistens in the afternoon sun and is a sight that cannot be described with words.
The estate we are heading to is close to a place called rotikadai which means bread shop and a bit of investigation into local folklore says that the British set up a bakery in the town to teach the locals to make bread as there was no bakery around in that place.They then named it rotikadai in Tamil and it continues to remain so long after the bakery has given way to tea shops.
The estate is everything that we want from a weekend getaway.The moment we arrive tea is served.Is it our imagination or is there something to be said for tea being drunk against the backdrop of tea gardens where the fresh green tea bushes form a thick carpet for miles on end.We sip tea in lovely china cups which shows up the colour of the brew to advantage.Thin egg sandwiches complete the picture of a land in time wrap.This is a throwback on the British raj and time stands still in this place.There is even a butler service at the house.
There is a lot to explore in this rambling home with its lush lawn and its stone garden seats that are meant for garden parties.The house is surrounded by vegetable gardens,flower gardens and the traditional Christmas trees that stand like sentinels to the house.An old swing is a great place to relive a childhood pastime.Like all estate home this also has a well stocked library with enough books to keep one occupied for months.
Saturday night the start of the season brings with it the Christmas spirit.Families from around estates meet at the club and enjoy a good evening sharing notes on the weeks happenings.Everyone has a well defines role and the wives share notes on children and home while the men drink their brandies and share whatever it is that they share.
Most of the homes in this region are made of stone or wood and as there are few people to occupy these once busy homes the estate wives have taken it upon themselves to convert this into an opportunity for Eco tourism.They open their doors to people travelling through or looking for a place to stay.Home cooked meals complete the experience
We come back home with our heads filled with stories of elephants and their habits.While us city folk worry about a rat or two in our kitchens,the estate folk of the elephant range worry about the wild beasts who have developed a taste for home cooked food and are busy checking out whats cooking in the estate kitchens.
When its time for us to leave we realise that we are relaxed beyond measure and we haven't missed our morning newspaper or the cell phone or the tv and life has been blissful
Friday, November 30, 2007
news all around
Am reading an average of four newspapers a day along with magazines and a few books and with the entry of a data card into my life one more activity gets added....blogging.
The Tv has been monopolised by the husband.Back after routine tour and the "I am missing home"thingy,he picks up the remote like long lost wife and is back to watching tv.So silly wife asks silly question...."do you love me or the Tv"....after being married for as long as we have one must say that was asking for trouble.
So here we are, one engrossed in movie and one busy reading all that one can get.Its a perfect partnership.
The Tv has been monopolised by the husband.Back after routine tour and the "I am missing home"thingy,he picks up the remote like long lost wife and is back to watching tv.So silly wife asks silly question...."do you love me or the Tv"....after being married for as long as we have one must say that was asking for trouble.
So here we are, one engrossed in movie and one busy reading all that one can get.Its a perfect partnership.
Getting back to my newspapers,I am now an expert on why Madhuri Dixit is back in the movies,what its like to be a star at 40 in an industry that doesn't accept age among women.I aware of Sanjay Dutts homecoming,his private jet and his forthcoming movies.I know that Britney Spears is throwing a lavish Christmas party.....hey wait a minute,I am reading serious news.This is my daily diet and call me fluffy but looks like half the world or at least half of India is reading this stuff and loving it.
The outcome of all this is that I plan to see Om Shanti Om very soon(even though I wont understand a word of the movie,not knowing the language),after which its all the other Hindi movies and I shall be updated on most things that matter to India.For the rest of the time I am off to watch BBC news(news the way I knew it) and as for entertainment,hey....that's what newspapers are for.
want to break free
I want to break free.....that song was one of my favourites but its meaning struck just a few years or months ago.Brought up on a regime of being steady in a job(meaning a government job was the best one to have)keeping the faith and rising slowly but surely etc meant that job hopping was not for me.For a long time this value system helped and sustained.Then all of a sudden the industry opened up and hey there were jobs a plenty.
Somewhere there was a reckless me,dormant for years and in need to break free,so when the bug bit it was time for action.One calculated risk(in retrospect only) and there I was in anew job which by any stretch of imagination was a hard one to crack but it came with a lot of perks.Freedom to do ones own thinking (big plus),freedom to work in ones own style and a chance to meet all kinds of people and be up against all kinds of situations.The like life always is,thing settle down and routine sets in.So what does one do.You guess it,look around ....
The thing with adventure is that its a catching habit,so here I am again in yet another reckless move and having fun at it.Freedom to act,to be to wonder and to do....then what?I am getting the hang of this,next step hitchhike to some far off place...who knows what comes at the next corner
Somewhere there was a reckless me,dormant for years and in need to break free,so when the bug bit it was time for action.One calculated risk(in retrospect only) and there I was in anew job which by any stretch of imagination was a hard one to crack but it came with a lot of perks.Freedom to do ones own thinking (big plus),freedom to work in ones own style and a chance to meet all kinds of people and be up against all kinds of situations.The like life always is,thing settle down and routine sets in.So what does one do.You guess it,look around ....
The thing with adventure is that its a catching habit,so here I am again in yet another reckless move and having fun at it.Freedom to act,to be to wonder and to do....then what?I am getting the hang of this,next step hitchhike to some far off place...who knows what comes at the next corner
Thursday, November 29, 2007
hot buttered toast and chutney
In the mad rush of peak hour traffic,I happened for a split second to look to my right and it set off a series of memories.It instantly brought to mind hot buttered toast and tomato chutney.A not so common combination but thats the memory attached to that place.
Its a set of government quarters set in a sprawling estate on haddows road.My elder sister had a friend who lived there and as I was a constant appendage to the elder sister,there I was visiting.As a child I loved these outings,for the simple reason that I always had a hungry look and most people would bring out a snack or two when I was around.I loved the tangy chutney which always showed up and in the mango season there was always juicy mangoes.
The reason for being in that house is really far more interesting.Like always one memory led to another.
Our school always had a Christmas play and my role was always that of one of the three kings or of some Chinese merchant from far away land,(thanks to having slit eyes)so a lot of rehearsals and make up had to be done and being children the teachers insisted we be there the whole day.It was my sisters responsibility to escort me to all this and as she was in a college close to the venue she had to make sure I got to the place on time and was looked after and not left alone otherwiseso.
My sister obviously had other plans and babysitting was not one of them so instead of taking me to rehearsals,she took me to college,got a group of her friends together and they plotted and planned as to what they were to do with me.One of the girls suggested they smuggle me into the literature class for a lecture.So there I was being warned of dire consequences by a bunch of college girls and given strict instructions not to make a noise and not to ask any questions(like I knew what to ask).
The class went off well,being rather small the lecturer didn't notice me in the backbench until almost to then end and the girls were ready for that.A sob story about how the poor child mother was ill and they had no choice but to get me there was all said and accepted.Of course after that everyone and her aunt wanted to give me sweets and chocolates so I wasn't complaining.When we were through with class one of the girls decided to take me home which is how the toast and chutney happened.
I continues to visit that girl as the house had loads of play areas and her mother always had interesting food.My home was always well stocked but the grass like they say is always greener on the other side.
The years spent being appendage to elder sister were always eventful and fun and long forgotten memories crop up at odd times like they did today because for me Madras is full of memories and every corner tells a story.
Its a set of government quarters set in a sprawling estate on haddows road.My elder sister had a friend who lived there and as I was a constant appendage to the elder sister,there I was visiting.As a child I loved these outings,for the simple reason that I always had a hungry look and most people would bring out a snack or two when I was around.I loved the tangy chutney which always showed up and in the mango season there was always juicy mangoes.
The reason for being in that house is really far more interesting.Like always one memory led to another.
Our school always had a Christmas play and my role was always that of one of the three kings or of some Chinese merchant from far away land,(thanks to having slit eyes)so a lot of rehearsals and make up had to be done and being children the teachers insisted we be there the whole day.It was my sisters responsibility to escort me to all this and as she was in a college close to the venue she had to make sure I got to the place on time and was looked after and not left alone otherwiseso.
My sister obviously had other plans and babysitting was not one of them so instead of taking me to rehearsals,she took me to college,got a group of her friends together and they plotted and planned as to what they were to do with me.One of the girls suggested they smuggle me into the literature class for a lecture.So there I was being warned of dire consequences by a bunch of college girls and given strict instructions not to make a noise and not to ask any questions(like I knew what to ask).
The class went off well,being rather small the lecturer didn't notice me in the backbench until almost to then end and the girls were ready for that.A sob story about how the poor child mother was ill and they had no choice but to get me there was all said and accepted.Of course after that everyone and her aunt wanted to give me sweets and chocolates so I wasn't complaining.When we were through with class one of the girls decided to take me home which is how the toast and chutney happened.
I continues to visit that girl as the house had loads of play areas and her mother always had interesting food.My home was always well stocked but the grass like they say is always greener on the other side.
The years spent being appendage to elder sister were always eventful and fun and long forgotten memories crop up at odd times like they did today because for me Madras is full of memories and every corner tells a story.
Saturday, November 24, 2007
Tech,tech n me
Fingers fly over keyboards and messages fly off mobile phones,all around me there is talk of orkut or face book,recently I got an invite to juice.What on earth would that mean.A lot of people assume I know all this,strange,to me juice is just that and I would want to know what kind as in apple,orange etc.But for now its a social site where you meet and make friends.Surprise again.Most of my friends I have know for twenty odd years,or atleast for ten so why would I need to know a faceless friend,so much for face book I must add.I am not dying to make friends,nor am I dying to have half the world and his uncle know all about me.What happened to good old privacy.
Technology is great,I have used it to connect with people,gets things done which I couldn't have otherwise but it scares me because I cant get a grip on it.For me it takes time and I am constantly told that there is no time.Yesterday I was told by a group of friends that its just a matter of time before social networks catch up with us,very much like the mobile phone.Its useful and fine but I still resent the fact that I am traceable everywhere,I resent the fact that people think its fine to call at all hours.Of course I choose not to take calls but that's a different issue altogether.
Everyday i get a lesson on how to use technology,my husband is trying to teach me and is in the process,finding the teacher within him.He is also finding the patience to teach someone of such little techie intelligence and I hope one day soon I learn to use technology like I was to the manor born.
Technology is great,I have used it to connect with people,gets things done which I couldn't have otherwise but it scares me because I cant get a grip on it.For me it takes time and I am constantly told that there is no time.Yesterday I was told by a group of friends that its just a matter of time before social networks catch up with us,very much like the mobile phone.Its useful and fine but I still resent the fact that I am traceable everywhere,I resent the fact that people think its fine to call at all hours.Of course I choose not to take calls but that's a different issue altogether.
Everyday i get a lesson on how to use technology,my husband is trying to teach me and is in the process,finding the teacher within him.He is also finding the patience to teach someone of such little techie intelligence and I hope one day soon I learn to use technology like I was to the manor born.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Rememberance day
Today was Armistice day,and to those like me who have no clue what its all about,well it the remembrance day of the end of world war 1 and its a day to remember the many brave men and women who fought for freedom and justice.
When I walked into the St Marys church today for service,I wondered if there had been a bomb blast as the place was full of uniformed men and women.The church itself wore a festive look and we had a special service which was attended by the top brass of the army,navy,air force and many other bodies along with war veterans.Everyone was turned out in full uniform with medals and things pinned on uniform.All the services has large wreaths that were place at the alter and it was a solemn moment when the armed forces walked up to the alter.The service itself was a fall back on the old days of the war and it was appropriate that it was being held in a church that is 375 years old and has history seeping out of its walls.
After the first hymn the bugles sounded the last post rendered by ceremonial guard followed by another piece.The moment can send a shiver down ones spine and I can imagine the feeling for those who actually went to war and were in the trenches.
All of us were given a poppy each as this is a symbol of remembrance day,and represents the killing fields that wars create.
When I prayed that we should have an interesting service I didn't expect this but was glad I was there in a Church created by the East India Company,a piece of history that remains in our city despite most other things being replaced by glass monstrosities
When I walked into the St Marys church today for service,I wondered if there had been a bomb blast as the place was full of uniformed men and women.The church itself wore a festive look and we had a special service which was attended by the top brass of the army,navy,air force and many other bodies along with war veterans.Everyone was turned out in full uniform with medals and things pinned on uniform.All the services has large wreaths that were place at the alter and it was a solemn moment when the armed forces walked up to the alter.The service itself was a fall back on the old days of the war and it was appropriate that it was being held in a church that is 375 years old and has history seeping out of its walls.
After the first hymn the bugles sounded the last post rendered by ceremonial guard followed by another piece.The moment can send a shiver down ones spine and I can imagine the feeling for those who actually went to war and were in the trenches.
All of us were given a poppy each as this is a symbol of remembrance day,and represents the killing fields that wars create.
When I prayed that we should have an interesting service I didn't expect this but was glad I was there in a Church created by the East India Company,a piece of history that remains in our city despite most other things being replaced by glass monstrosities
Wednesday, November 07, 2007
where has all the silence gone
Yesterday I stood for fifteen minutes trying to cross the road near my house.The traffic wouldn't stop and I am not surprised as it was the festival season,but this is a road in a residential area where I have lived for some thirty odd years.
My mind went back to the time we had arrived at this part of madras.My dad had paid the advance for a house here and my mom and I had come to check it out.In this very same street which was deserted at that time,with not a soul in sight.It was a road dotted on either side by quaint houses with gardens.My mother took one look at the house and burst into tears.She had hoped to move into a nice house with bright colours and a modern look but here we were in an independent house that looked in need of care with an overgrown garden.Tears of rage and frustration and many a fight with my dad later we had no choice but to move in.Over a period of time she made friends with the neighbours,brightened up our environment like only my mother can do,adopted a dog and cleaned up the garden/We lived there for years and had some happy times,I finished my school years from that house and had many happy holidays with my friends coming over,We roamed the streets around the house playing on the road and meeting people.
All this ran through my mind as i stood there on the same street trying to cross the road.The housed have given way to high rise buildings,the road has become chocked with traffic,the old neighbours have all sold out to upcoming builders and long since gone,the real estate prices have skyrocketed and the once quiet street had become impossible to cross.I finally cross the road and check out the other roads,Almost all of them have met with the same fate.I came back to live in this area because of the peace and quiet and wisely choose a street that is so narrow that it can never become a big traffic road.The only remains of my childhood are the grocery shop owned by a boy who went to school with me and I continue to shop at this place despite all the new ones that have mushroomed around.Everything else changes every day and i have to wonder what will this place be like five years from now.
This area of madras however will always be home and despite all the congestion we are lucky to have four parks around our home and plenty of greenery.I walk around and count my blessings and stop to smell the roses.
My mind went back to the time we had arrived at this part of madras.My dad had paid the advance for a house here and my mom and I had come to check it out.In this very same street which was deserted at that time,with not a soul in sight.It was a road dotted on either side by quaint houses with gardens.My mother took one look at the house and burst into tears.She had hoped to move into a nice house with bright colours and a modern look but here we were in an independent house that looked in need of care with an overgrown garden.Tears of rage and frustration and many a fight with my dad later we had no choice but to move in.Over a period of time she made friends with the neighbours,brightened up our environment like only my mother can do,adopted a dog and cleaned up the garden/We lived there for years and had some happy times,I finished my school years from that house and had many happy holidays with my friends coming over,We roamed the streets around the house playing on the road and meeting people.
All this ran through my mind as i stood there on the same street trying to cross the road.The housed have given way to high rise buildings,the road has become chocked with traffic,the old neighbours have all sold out to upcoming builders and long since gone,the real estate prices have skyrocketed and the once quiet street had become impossible to cross.I finally cross the road and check out the other roads,Almost all of them have met with the same fate.I came back to live in this area because of the peace and quiet and wisely choose a street that is so narrow that it can never become a big traffic road.The only remains of my childhood are the grocery shop owned by a boy who went to school with me and I continue to shop at this place despite all the new ones that have mushroomed around.Everything else changes every day and i have to wonder what will this place be like five years from now.
This area of madras however will always be home and despite all the congestion we are lucky to have four parks around our home and plenty of greenery.I walk around and count my blessings and stop to smell the roses.
Monday, November 05, 2007
call and you will not get an answer
Right now I need to speak to the bank about an investment,I need to talk to the telephone people about a bad connection and to the mobile service provider about a wrong bill,but I am still wondering how to go about it.You see I am allergic to call centres and everyone today seems to have one.My experiences have always been about waiting for quiet a while listening to some repetitive music or to a recorded voice telling me that I am an important customer....why do they treat me like this if I really was one is beyond me.Also if I am important then so are all the others who call.I thought being important was exclusive but guess I am wrong.
If it not about waiting then some disembodied voice will give me instructions on the phone which will take through many a menu and many a number later to arrive at the same place,talking to a human being.
So I finally arrive at this human voice but couldn't figure out why they never had solutions to my simple requests.Why couldn't they check out some things for me,why did I need to call another number or wait for a week or send an email.In desperation I checked with some folks who work at a call centre and realised that its all about a script.Its a dummy job,which tells you what answers to give for what question and if its not asked in the same sequence then the human being on the other side is not authorised to answer(read not allowed to use brains,reasoning etc,assuming that they are in possession of these talents)So typically dumb American way of operating and getting paid for it.I am a little ashamed to call an American a dummy anymore after my call centre experience.Out outsourcing industry is all about the American way of life and that means we are glorified script readers.Is this what is driving our economy.I shudder to think of whats going to happen to this country in a few years.In the meanwhile I am still wondering what to do about my problems.Call a call centre stupid....thats how it works!!!
If it not about waiting then some disembodied voice will give me instructions on the phone which will take through many a menu and many a number later to arrive at the same place,talking to a human being.
So I finally arrive at this human voice but couldn't figure out why they never had solutions to my simple requests.Why couldn't they check out some things for me,why did I need to call another number or wait for a week or send an email.In desperation I checked with some folks who work at a call centre and realised that its all about a script.Its a dummy job,which tells you what answers to give for what question and if its not asked in the same sequence then the human being on the other side is not authorised to answer(read not allowed to use brains,reasoning etc,assuming that they are in possession of these talents)So typically dumb American way of operating and getting paid for it.I am a little ashamed to call an American a dummy anymore after my call centre experience.Out outsourcing industry is all about the American way of life and that means we are glorified script readers.Is this what is driving our economy.I shudder to think of whats going to happen to this country in a few years.In the meanwhile I am still wondering what to do about my problems.Call a call centre stupid....thats how it works!!!
news not for use
There is an emergency in Pakistan and I hear about it on BBC news.Considering they are our neighbours I presumed that the news media in India would be clamouring to cover the news but the moment the emergency was announced,I switched to the Indian News channels.To say I was disappointed would be an understatement.To say I was expecting it would be a half truth.The point is that all the news channels I turned to were either covering cricket or bollywood.So I ask myself what do news channels do.Unfortunately they don't cover news in the typical sense.Its all bout entertainment and even the news reporters are entertainers.How else would one describe the average news reporter (who is clearly wet behind the ears)who believes in yelling out the news in high pitch,besides badgering the victim(i use that word for that's what it is) like they are the law,government et al.I am surprised at the emotional way in which questions are put forth.News reporting is about being dispassionate,it is about being objective and about reporting the facts.Its not about ones personal opinions so why are so many TV journalists (including may I add,senior ones) so hell bent on bringing their personalities and beliefs on to the news.Unfortunately if one wants objectivity it still the BBC for me.Will someone please rename new channels in India as niche channels that focus on cricket and bollywood.If that's what sells I have no issues with it but lets stop pretending that this is news.
Thursday, November 01, 2007
Dressing for who
Why do women spend hours over what to wear,how to look etc.Do they dress for comfort or do they dress to please others or is there something like dressing for oneself.I for one dress for comfort,to feel confident and yes to feel good about my self.If others approve so be it.Sometimes we dress for the occasion.All in all the decision takes some considering.
I wonder why women in Islamic countries dress up.In most of the middle east one will find that women spend money on designer wear and the best of cosmetics and all for what.They are well covered with only their eyes showing so why bother.Frankly I would love to dress like them.What bliss to be able to throw on a t shirt and shorts and the bhurka and ready to go.Who is to know.
This afternoon the discussion was on the same subject.Some of the women felt that it was a waste of time to spend so much time and effort when no one could see what one was wearing.The other woman thought that they were making an effort to look good for their husbands after all that was accepted.As usual I wondered aloud if they had ever stop to think that these women loved beautiful things and liked to look beautiful for that simple fact.They were dressing for themselves,they were being who they were and not what someone wanted them to be.The shocked looks that the well healed women threw in my direction was a sight to see.It never occurred to them that it was possible to dress for oneself.Prejudice I thought,here we were educated women so caught up in the media brainwashing of how women in Islamic countries are kept in the shadows and not allowed to express themselves.Here was a classic example of uncovered women who could only think of pleasing their husbands or society and on the other hand were the covered women just being themselves.So who is liberated I wonder.Ponder the thought
I wonder why women in Islamic countries dress up.In most of the middle east one will find that women spend money on designer wear and the best of cosmetics and all for what.They are well covered with only their eyes showing so why bother.Frankly I would love to dress like them.What bliss to be able to throw on a t shirt and shorts and the bhurka and ready to go.Who is to know.
This afternoon the discussion was on the same subject.Some of the women felt that it was a waste of time to spend so much time and effort when no one could see what one was wearing.The other woman thought that they were making an effort to look good for their husbands after all that was accepted.As usual I wondered aloud if they had ever stop to think that these women loved beautiful things and liked to look beautiful for that simple fact.They were dressing for themselves,they were being who they were and not what someone wanted them to be.The shocked looks that the well healed women threw in my direction was a sight to see.It never occurred to them that it was possible to dress for oneself.Prejudice I thought,here we were educated women so caught up in the media brainwashing of how women in Islamic countries are kept in the shadows and not allowed to express themselves.Here was a classic example of uncovered women who could only think of pleasing their husbands or society and on the other hand were the covered women just being themselves.So who is liberated I wonder.Ponder the thought
society calls
There are days that one simply don't want to know about and then there are days that are special.This morning was one of those days I wasn't looking forward to,it involved one society lunch and one radio interview,both of which I wasn't very happy about but agreed to in some state of fun which I quickly regretted.Not being able to get out of it I agreed to make the best of a bad situation.
All decked out in some decent clothes I went for lunch,arriving on time.....wrong decision,women especially the social butterfly types..are expected to come in fashionably late( so ok that should read as at least thirty minutes late).First lesson learnt.So I find myself a nice corner with women that looked like they wouldn't make conversation so there I was watching everyone come in.Much kissing and hugging later I find a few women that I do know and chat them up.
The show begins with a fashion show,jewellery is supposed to get all women excited (not this one) but the photographers were so busy one couldn't really see much,so after a while we troop for lunch.
The interesting part of all this was that we were in a room full of women with money and so called class,women who are the who's who of the city including people like me who get invited because someone thinks I am a somebody and the whole objective of the lunch is to get us to spend some money.Well I walked over to the sale section and was surprised to find that the actual buying was being done by two Muslim women covered from head to toe in the bhurka and wonder of wonders the bhurka was full of bling.Talk of fashion transcending all barriers.
All decked out in some decent clothes I went for lunch,arriving on time.....wrong decision,women especially the social butterfly types..are expected to come in fashionably late( so ok that should read as at least thirty minutes late).First lesson learnt.So I find myself a nice corner with women that looked like they wouldn't make conversation so there I was watching everyone come in.Much kissing and hugging later I find a few women that I do know and chat them up.
The show begins with a fashion show,jewellery is supposed to get all women excited (not this one) but the photographers were so busy one couldn't really see much,so after a while we troop for lunch.
The interesting part of all this was that we were in a room full of women with money and so called class,women who are the who's who of the city including people like me who get invited because someone thinks I am a somebody and the whole objective of the lunch is to get us to spend some money.Well I walked over to the sale section and was surprised to find that the actual buying was being done by two Muslim women covered from head to toe in the bhurka and wonder of wonders the bhurka was full of bling.Talk of fashion transcending all barriers.
Monday, October 29, 2007
In limbo
Today I am in that wonderful state of having to do nothing and if that's not enough the weather gods have smiled too so its a beautiful day.In between jobs is a good place to be except for the danger of getting used to it.Not such a bad thing I think,especially if it makes me happy,but for how long says my inner soul.Perhaps there are things to be done yes but for now I am happy to shop garden and cook.
Somehow job hopping is not what I do nor is it something I endorse but the world changed suddenly and so did perceptions.If one was in a job for a long time like I was,it was considered a virtue sometime back.It spelled commitment,loyalty and career mindedness.When the economy changed,the situations changed and job opportunities were a dime a dozen.Suddenly those virtues of yesteryear's were no longer of any value and job hopping became the norm.Along with this change came a certain cynicism.People move faster,get more money and live so called better lives but do they learn anything on the way,are we creating a future that's dominated by Google dependent people who have no passion or imagination.I don't really care anymore,changing the world is no long an option.Letting go is so blissful,it means I just need to work on my terms and throw it all up if the situation doesn't suit me.Everyone thinks being a woman make it easier to chuck up a job.I don't agree,its a mind game,its about being ambitious about ones personal life,its about wanting to do things that one cant do when one is too busy making money that one has no time to spend.
Oh yes its time to check out some plants,buy a birthday gift and catch up for tea with a friend and there one to some rest.The job market can wait.
Somehow job hopping is not what I do nor is it something I endorse but the world changed suddenly and so did perceptions.If one was in a job for a long time like I was,it was considered a virtue sometime back.It spelled commitment,loyalty and career mindedness.When the economy changed,the situations changed and job opportunities were a dime a dozen.Suddenly those virtues of yesteryear's were no longer of any value and job hopping became the norm.Along with this change came a certain cynicism.People move faster,get more money and live so called better lives but do they learn anything on the way,are we creating a future that's dominated by Google dependent people who have no passion or imagination.I don't really care anymore,changing the world is no long an option.Letting go is so blissful,it means I just need to work on my terms and throw it all up if the situation doesn't suit me.Everyone thinks being a woman make it easier to chuck up a job.I don't agree,its a mind game,its about being ambitious about ones personal life,its about wanting to do things that one cant do when one is too busy making money that one has no time to spend.
Oh yes its time to check out some plants,buy a birthday gift and catch up for tea with a friend and there one to some rest.The job market can wait.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Unhurried life in Chennai
Today was one of those days when I had to take a photocopy,send out a courier and it had to be done this morning.Most often these days I get the office boy to do these things and one has forgotten what its like to go to the small out of the way places and get it done.
At around 9.30 am I set off believing it was a decent enough hour to get this work done.My angst starts with two auto drivers hurling abuses at me for putting the wrong indicator.Yes I wanted to turn right but as there was no parking I decided to turn left.Sandwiched as I was between two autos,they decided that as a woman driver I probably had no clue which was right or left.Jokes aside,this was a classic case of pot calling the kettle black.Since when did auto drivers in Chennai have the right to comment on any ones driving?.They are classic examples of how not to drive.
Having found a parking lot,I was locking the car when I noticed a security guard of the house near the parking lot,eye me with some glee.He had that look that most security guards get when the realise that the car has been parked and the occupant is on their way.That's when most of them decide that this is a non parking zone.How anyone can claim that a public road belong to them is beyond me.Thankfully the chap must have seen my face and decided not to react.
So some fifteen minutes later I reached the shop which housed the courier and the photocopying place.
Its a fact that shops in Chennai don't open before ten so I find that the courier place is not opened but the other one is.The gentleman who runs it is busy cleaning out his shop and when I ask if I can get a photocopy done,he ignores me.So I wait in the heat, sweat pouring down my face and back while he finishes sweeping and dusting the place.I also notice that there are atleast 20 different gods pictures around his shop.He finishes his cleaning and I hope he would switch on the machine but hey wait a minute,the gods have to be kept happy.A child of around 6yrs old comes over with flowers.She also waits patiently while he lights the incense and waves it around all the gods present.The next step is to light the lamps and say his prayers.The girl waits like she probably does every day but my patience is running thin.I wonder if I should go over to another place but some quick calculations later I figure that that will lead to more delays so I wait.
There is a little board in the shop that says customers are important etc but obviously business can wait as there would be no business if the gods don't bless you and I figured that he had probably done the same maths that I had and knew how futile it would be for me to move from there so the business could wait.
It was the girls turn so the flowers are handed over and he doesn't pay her in the shop.He takes the money and steps out and hands it to her.Wonder why ?.The flowers have been strung but he cuts them out individually and places one flower per god.Then another set of prayers.In the meanwhile the courier man has arrived and he is not so keen a housekeeper so he takes out his order book.I rush over and tell him that I am waiting for a copy so could he get started on my cover and I leave the envelope behind so he can fill out the address and save me some time.Finally some twenty minutes later the shopkeeper turns to me and asks if I want a photocopy.For heavens sake what did he think I wanted,Darshan?.Once again he steps out like I am some untouchable and take the papers from me and gives me my copy so off I go to courier man,only to find that he hasn't done a thing about my envelope.So we start at the beginning and get it all over with.Forty five minutes later I jump into the car and drive into morning rush hour hour.What is the problem here.Is life really so laid back and unhurried or have I lost the ability to enjoy the simple things in life,have I forgotten how to do small chores,where has my patience gone.Give me a break the corporate world exists in the rarefied corridors of plush office,the reality on the ground is very different....or is it?.Have I seen and office run like clockwork where everyone is super efficeint.Oh dear,no really those are just tall claims and the only difference between the corporate world and the chaps who run small businesses is that they don't make tall claims!!!!
At around 9.30 am I set off believing it was a decent enough hour to get this work done.My angst starts with two auto drivers hurling abuses at me for putting the wrong indicator.Yes I wanted to turn right but as there was no parking I decided to turn left.Sandwiched as I was between two autos,they decided that as a woman driver I probably had no clue which was right or left.Jokes aside,this was a classic case of pot calling the kettle black.Since when did auto drivers in Chennai have the right to comment on any ones driving?.They are classic examples of how not to drive.
Having found a parking lot,I was locking the car when I noticed a security guard of the house near the parking lot,eye me with some glee.He had that look that most security guards get when the realise that the car has been parked and the occupant is on their way.That's when most of them decide that this is a non parking zone.How anyone can claim that a public road belong to them is beyond me.Thankfully the chap must have seen my face and decided not to react.
So some fifteen minutes later I reached the shop which housed the courier and the photocopying place.
Its a fact that shops in Chennai don't open before ten so I find that the courier place is not opened but the other one is.The gentleman who runs it is busy cleaning out his shop and when I ask if I can get a photocopy done,he ignores me.So I wait in the heat, sweat pouring down my face and back while he finishes sweeping and dusting the place.I also notice that there are atleast 20 different gods pictures around his shop.He finishes his cleaning and I hope he would switch on the machine but hey wait a minute,the gods have to be kept happy.A child of around 6yrs old comes over with flowers.She also waits patiently while he lights the incense and waves it around all the gods present.The next step is to light the lamps and say his prayers.The girl waits like she probably does every day but my patience is running thin.I wonder if I should go over to another place but some quick calculations later I figure that that will lead to more delays so I wait.
There is a little board in the shop that says customers are important etc but obviously business can wait as there would be no business if the gods don't bless you and I figured that he had probably done the same maths that I had and knew how futile it would be for me to move from there so the business could wait.
It was the girls turn so the flowers are handed over and he doesn't pay her in the shop.He takes the money and steps out and hands it to her.Wonder why ?.The flowers have been strung but he cuts them out individually and places one flower per god.Then another set of prayers.In the meanwhile the courier man has arrived and he is not so keen a housekeeper so he takes out his order book.I rush over and tell him that I am waiting for a copy so could he get started on my cover and I leave the envelope behind so he can fill out the address and save me some time.Finally some twenty minutes later the shopkeeper turns to me and asks if I want a photocopy.For heavens sake what did he think I wanted,Darshan?.Once again he steps out like I am some untouchable and take the papers from me and gives me my copy so off I go to courier man,only to find that he hasn't done a thing about my envelope.So we start at the beginning and get it all over with.Forty five minutes later I jump into the car and drive into morning rush hour hour.What is the problem here.Is life really so laid back and unhurried or have I lost the ability to enjoy the simple things in life,have I forgotten how to do small chores,where has my patience gone.Give me a break the corporate world exists in the rarefied corridors of plush office,the reality on the ground is very different....or is it?.Have I seen and office run like clockwork where everyone is super efficeint.Oh dear,no really those are just tall claims and the only difference between the corporate world and the chaps who run small businesses is that they don't make tall claims!!!!
services for the old
I am not a great fan of corporate hospitals or the catholic church.Corporate hospitals simply because I cant understand how one can make money on someones ill health.Wasn't medic an meant to help mankind.The catholic church because in my opinion they are rather outdated,and ritualistic.
In the last few weeks however I have had to review my opinion on both.
Looking after old parents at best of times is taxing,especially when one has a full time job.Looking after them in sickness is worse.So in despair I searched the local news papers for agencies that would provide a nurse for a short time.Except for loosing money to some tall promises nothing materialised.I then discovered Unique Health services run by the Apollo Hospitals.They actually has a service that one can become a member with and they would provide a trained nurse and doctor on call.Sceptical at the best of times,I decided that I had no option and paid up the fee.The doctor arrived and the nurse followed.When they told me she was 22,I was most worried,but the result of the experience left me well and truly hooked.Here was a nurse who was trained,college educated and well equipped to handle old people with care and patience.Half my stress disappeared.Of course this facility comes at a price that few of us can afford full time but then it is a service with possibilities.
The nurse left and my search for a companion for the old folk started.Agencies are a dime a dozen but each one as unreliable as the other.Huge fees,advances and unorganised they can get ones stress levels to an all time high.Till a friend suggested a church.Not being a regular church goer myself,I wondered if this was yet another agency and sent my sister to check it out.Looks like the catholic church gets something right.They have over the years housed many services which cater to the larger interests of the family,be it counsellors,priests or housemaid and companions.The service is efficient,accepts payments by cheque and their follow up is superb.Besides which they make no tall promises.The local St Lukes church runs this service called Sneha Deepam.
It may be too early to take a judgement call on both but Chennai is a great place for medical care and options and people remain to some extent honest
In the last few weeks however I have had to review my opinion on both.
Looking after old parents at best of times is taxing,especially when one has a full time job.Looking after them in sickness is worse.So in despair I searched the local news papers for agencies that would provide a nurse for a short time.Except for loosing money to some tall promises nothing materialised.I then discovered Unique Health services run by the Apollo Hospitals.They actually has a service that one can become a member with and they would provide a trained nurse and doctor on call.Sceptical at the best of times,I decided that I had no option and paid up the fee.The doctor arrived and the nurse followed.When they told me she was 22,I was most worried,but the result of the experience left me well and truly hooked.Here was a nurse who was trained,college educated and well equipped to handle old people with care and patience.Half my stress disappeared.Of course this facility comes at a price that few of us can afford full time but then it is a service with possibilities.
The nurse left and my search for a companion for the old folk started.Agencies are a dime a dozen but each one as unreliable as the other.Huge fees,advances and unorganised they can get ones stress levels to an all time high.Till a friend suggested a church.Not being a regular church goer myself,I wondered if this was yet another agency and sent my sister to check it out.Looks like the catholic church gets something right.They have over the years housed many services which cater to the larger interests of the family,be it counsellors,priests or housemaid and companions.The service is efficient,accepts payments by cheque and their follow up is superb.Besides which they make no tall promises.The local St Lukes church runs this service called Sneha Deepam.
It may be too early to take a judgement call on both but Chennai is a great place for medical care and options and people remain to some extent honest
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Its a dogs life
Dogs....most us us have pedigree ones who need care and maintenance and we love them,but there are yet others to whom a dog can be just any dog even a stray.Take the street where I live or even the area I live in.There are three dogs on my street who live on the road and they have territorial rights to the road.No other dog is allowed according to road dog rules.The rest of the street dogs respect that as they all have similar rules.Most houses on our street also have dogs that live in their homes.None of these are the pedigree ones.They are all strays that have been adopted,taken home ,rehabilitated and are love and looked after.They in turn learn to live and be friendly with all the neighbours so if we pat them on the back they will wag their tails,they will always greet the neighbours with a friendly bark.
The real queen of the road however is Susi.She is know by many names,appu is one of them and she answers to all.She has this great weakness for construction sites.I suspect that's also to do with the fact that most construction workers cook a good meal after a hard days work and have no problems sharing this with her.Also the cool sands and stones that are available on building sites are a welcome resting place.We first met Susi when our flat was being built.She knew we were going to be living there and was most civil to us,waged her tail,followed us around and we fell in love.
Today she moves from one site to the other but her favourite places are the parking lot of a building two houses away from ours or on a very hot day,the terrace of our flat.On days when some male dog has caught her fancy she would invite him over to the terrace.I have seen a brown dog with that completely smitten look on its face,going down the stairs and I think to myself..."oh yet another one of her victims".
Susi is fed and looked after by all of us and all the other dogs acknowledge her status on that road.She is fed on biscuits,beef,bones and whatever else we can pass her way.She also knows our friends and our visitors and greets them with such love and affection that they always bring a teat along.
Its finally all about the way one treats the animals.If we as a street had kicked and ill treated her like some folks are likely to do,we would have gotten a bad dog and all the problems that came along.
Its sad that one reads of communities that kill dogs just because they have caused some problems and while it is tragic that dogs have killed babies,we must remember that dogs by nature are not man eaters.If we show a little kindness then we wont have these problems.Can we spend a moment to think of their hunger or their need for love and attention and medical care?.The problem of strays is what we have created,lets not blame the dogs alone.
The real queen of the road however is Susi.She is know by many names,appu is one of them and she answers to all.She has this great weakness for construction sites.I suspect that's also to do with the fact that most construction workers cook a good meal after a hard days work and have no problems sharing this with her.Also the cool sands and stones that are available on building sites are a welcome resting place.We first met Susi when our flat was being built.She knew we were going to be living there and was most civil to us,waged her tail,followed us around and we fell in love.
Today she moves from one site to the other but her favourite places are the parking lot of a building two houses away from ours or on a very hot day,the terrace of our flat.On days when some male dog has caught her fancy she would invite him over to the terrace.I have seen a brown dog with that completely smitten look on its face,going down the stairs and I think to myself..."oh yet another one of her victims".
Susi is fed and looked after by all of us and all the other dogs acknowledge her status on that road.She is fed on biscuits,beef,bones and whatever else we can pass her way.She also knows our friends and our visitors and greets them with such love and affection that they always bring a teat along.
Its finally all about the way one treats the animals.If we as a street had kicked and ill treated her like some folks are likely to do,we would have gotten a bad dog and all the problems that came along.
Its sad that one reads of communities that kill dogs just because they have caused some problems and while it is tragic that dogs have killed babies,we must remember that dogs by nature are not man eaters.If we show a little kindness then we wont have these problems.Can we spend a moment to think of their hunger or their need for love and attention and medical care?.The problem of strays is what we have created,lets not blame the dogs alone.
Monday, September 24, 2007
Childhood in Madras
Every now and again I need to go back in time.Guess my yesterdays were far better than my today's.Well whatever the reason,having lived in Madras for years,I find going back in time happy.It usually happens when some well known landmark is being demolished and a glass monstrosity in coming up in its place.
So I have decided to start with the most important landmarks of my childhood in Madras.All shopping was done in Mount road.In those days this was a city of neon lights,much like the modern New York.They blinked and moved exciting messages of sales and bargains,of brands and such.All blue and red and wonderful.
Our meat was bought from Spencer's.The red brick building had a circular driveway with a few cars but most people came on public transport.The cold storage was a place to be.They also had a soda fountain where we were treated to cold lemonade and ice cream while the meat was being packed.Christmas time at Spencer's was an event to remember.Santa clause was always there and handing out gifts,large Christmas trees with decorations and gifts galore and the whole place lit up with Christmas carols in the background.All the old nice ones ,not the remixed versions we get today.
Buharis was another place for Christmas.Thin sandwiches were there speciality.Don't know what went into them but they were out of this world.
When it wasn't Christmas,we went to India silk house on mount road for most things.They were the only ones who sold swim suits then.My mother bought saris at tata Finlay and the white voils and organdie's still bring back memories.Small flowers on white was very fashionable in them days.Kiddies corner was the place for children's clothes and when we were were tired of all our shopping we went to Jaffers.This was the best ice cream place for years.High bar stools for children,comfortable sofas for adults.A banana split with chocolate cream,served in a boat.Peach Melba in a steel ice cream cup was the show stopper on the menu and the ice cream sundae was the best we have ever had.A pink wafer stuck out of the ice cream and the waiters in white with red caps,who knew exactly what a child wanted but was too scared to ask,were the best in the city.
Chellarams was always the place to buy dress materials,we didn't care for assembly line clothes.Our clothes were always stitched by Charms.I don't know what his name was,suspect it was Krishnamachari chand but we called him Charm uncle.He took pains to give us the latest designs from simplicity (fashion magazine) so were were always turned out well.Regular fittings were the order of the day and no demand of a 6 year old was too much for charm.
Next door to Charm was Kamala stores.He provided all the regular stuff and for Christmas I always got a big box of mangarams biscuits.I always believed he loved me so much and that's why I got the biscuits but my mother was a good customer and this was his way of keeping her happy,but it did wonders for my child ego.On regular days,my reward for being good was a large bottle of coca cola with a straw which I slurped noisily and with relish.The day coke was thrown out of India i stoped drinking it and when it did come back I was too old for it .In my mind it was a drink which was strongly associated with childhood.
This covered Mount road and Egmore in Madras.I have now to go to the various other places which have memories of a different eras.Until the next post.
So I have decided to start with the most important landmarks of my childhood in Madras.All shopping was done in Mount road.In those days this was a city of neon lights,much like the modern New York.They blinked and moved exciting messages of sales and bargains,of brands and such.All blue and red and wonderful.
Our meat was bought from Spencer's.The red brick building had a circular driveway with a few cars but most people came on public transport.The cold storage was a place to be.They also had a soda fountain where we were treated to cold lemonade and ice cream while the meat was being packed.Christmas time at Spencer's was an event to remember.Santa clause was always there and handing out gifts,large Christmas trees with decorations and gifts galore and the whole place lit up with Christmas carols in the background.All the old nice ones ,not the remixed versions we get today.
Buharis was another place for Christmas.Thin sandwiches were there speciality.Don't know what went into them but they were out of this world.
When it wasn't Christmas,we went to India silk house on mount road for most things.They were the only ones who sold swim suits then.My mother bought saris at tata Finlay and the white voils and organdie's still bring back memories.Small flowers on white was very fashionable in them days.Kiddies corner was the place for children's clothes and when we were were tired of all our shopping we went to Jaffers.This was the best ice cream place for years.High bar stools for children,comfortable sofas for adults.A banana split with chocolate cream,served in a boat.Peach Melba in a steel ice cream cup was the show stopper on the menu and the ice cream sundae was the best we have ever had.A pink wafer stuck out of the ice cream and the waiters in white with red caps,who knew exactly what a child wanted but was too scared to ask,were the best in the city.
Chellarams was always the place to buy dress materials,we didn't care for assembly line clothes.Our clothes were always stitched by Charms.I don't know what his name was,suspect it was Krishnamachari chand but we called him Charm uncle.He took pains to give us the latest designs from simplicity (fashion magazine) so were were always turned out well.Regular fittings were the order of the day and no demand of a 6 year old was too much for charm.
Next door to Charm was Kamala stores.He provided all the regular stuff and for Christmas I always got a big box of mangarams biscuits.I always believed he loved me so much and that's why I got the biscuits but my mother was a good customer and this was his way of keeping her happy,but it did wonders for my child ego.On regular days,my reward for being good was a large bottle of coca cola with a straw which I slurped noisily and with relish.The day coke was thrown out of India i stoped drinking it and when it did come back I was too old for it .In my mind it was a drink which was strongly associated with childhood.
This covered Mount road and Egmore in Madras.I have now to go to the various other places which have memories of a different eras.Until the next post.
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