Swimming Chronicals 3

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

Swimming Chronicles 11

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

Swimming Chronicles

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

Of monkeys and cold showers

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

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

Nightfall in the hills

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

ooty day 1

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

Vacations

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

Lifes lessons learned

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

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

Helpless in the mango season

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

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

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

Woman of courage

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

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

The bored nephew

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

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

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

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

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

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

I Remember

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I remember marching to chopsticks every morning to assembly

I remember trembling on days when report cards were given

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

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

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

I remember the song "my little brown jug"

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

Saving marriages

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

Mosquito tennis

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

Cattyness

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

The inland letter

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

New year

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

the year that way

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

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

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

The Eco project

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

That green tea experience

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