Just realised that I am having a full grown affair.(those of you who know me don't faint,like always we tend to panic so suggest you read the rest of the sentence and then react).An affair with real estate.On Saturday I fell in love with a dream house.Perfect in every way,it was in the heart of the city but tucked away in a little drive,if you didn't notice it it was gone.A lovely house with a huge terrace.I can see it fill up with people having tea and cookies,hot chocolate on a rainy day and me making sandwiches to music.Plants all around and atmosphere to kill for.The agent quoted a price.I was so in love that I didn't register how big a hole it would make in my pocket,if that is possible.The price was so high that it will always remain a dream,but I shall go back and find out who buys it.Its a lovely place.The same day I drove around in yet another part of town.I spent the afternoon looking at houses,taking in the gardens and the decor,the road and the names are all registered in my mind.Its therapy.There are lots of beautiful homes left in the city but they are fast giving way to high rise,stuff which can not move one to tears or move one to anything for that matter.I wonder when I see a beautiful place with gardens,as to who lives there.They must have taste not to have given way to the rapid change that this city is going through.
I am going through the city in parts.Every week I identify a place and drive to see lovely buildings.One day I hope to stumble on a dream that doesn't have to remain a dream.Right now I just enjoy the moment.Love as they say is a many splendid thing
tea gardens
Monday, September 10, 2007
Monday, September 03, 2007
Its another manic monday
Its another manic Monday....this is how the song goes and for years I wondered what this meant,until now.It looks like every Monday is the same for me.Its always another manic Monday.Its starts with me feeling blue about the weekend being over and yet another week starting.Then the phone rings anytime between 7 am and 8 am and its either the parents having a crisis which means the whole day is over coz of tension and worry and sorting out stuff.Or its the cook calling in to say he cant make it and since I haven't decided the menu there is a mad rush to cook against a deadline and that means yet another Monday ruined.Is it my imagination or is it my mind controlling events.I suspect too much reading up on magic is messing up my brains,but the fact is that I just know,when the phone is going to ring,I just know who is on the line well before I pick it up and I know the story.Its scary to have such a vivid view of the future,its unnerving to know in the pit of your stomach that something is going to happen and it happens.I cant control it,my mind is on its own trip and it scares me.
Every Monday morning is the same and I hate Mondays.My mind plays up from Sunday night.I toss and turn as thoughts and images run through my head and then it all happens.One would think I would be prepared but I am not.Its never good news.Its always a crisis.Yet the same things happen at office.Its a joke that my stomach speaks to me.It tells me what the client will say,it will tell me in advance if a simple problem will go on to be a full grown crisis,and I am never wrong.That has a good side.My team trusts my stomach so we have averted many a disaster,but do I warn people in advance?.No I don't,how can I,it would amount to some innate sixth sense that propels my mind forward but I am too scared to voice it.and so my thoughts toss on turbulent seas and the dark circles deepen and I get more and more desperate to control my mind.
Every Monday morning is the same and I hate Mondays.My mind plays up from Sunday night.I toss and turn as thoughts and images run through my head and then it all happens.One would think I would be prepared but I am not.Its never good news.Its always a crisis.Yet the same things happen at office.Its a joke that my stomach speaks to me.It tells me what the client will say,it will tell me in advance if a simple problem will go on to be a full grown crisis,and I am never wrong.That has a good side.My team trusts my stomach so we have averted many a disaster,but do I warn people in advance?.No I don't,how can I,it would amount to some innate sixth sense that propels my mind forward but I am too scared to voice it.and so my thoughts toss on turbulent seas and the dark circles deepen and I get more and more desperate to control my mind.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Sister tales
My oldest sister (that's how she was referred to when I was at school) got a few good years of parenting practise well before she became a mother.It was her duty to look after me so while my mother got some well deserved shut eye,my sister practised her mothering skills on me.I was marched off to the British council library to read children's books.So much for that.
My sister is addicted to books,she will read anything she can get her hands on so when her first child was born,my mother put a ban on books.When my sister starts reading she forgets the world and my mother was more interested in her first grand son being cared for than for the latest Agatha Christie.My sister of course had other ideas.She fell in line but soon got bored so her way of getting both jobs done was to balance the child on her lap and hold her book in one hand,a bowl of cereal in the other and she would spoon the goo into the child's mouth by braille while she finished her latest book.It drove my mother mad but there was very little she could do about it.
When her children were a lot older,she let them do what they wanted.The messy rooms were soon cover up with innovative curtain ideas but she couldn't dream of cleaning up the mess.For years their home had pretty dark coloured wall and no one did anything about it.When the kids had left home and someone decided to paint the walls white,the house changed character.My sisters vivid imagination took a pretty funny turn and in one of those discussions with me she wondered if her children's lives had been darkened by the colour of the wall.Perhaps she had not been a good mother,maybe a little more care would have resulted in happier children (her kids are very happy but its sound like a better story line to imagine that they had dark lives and were unhappy thanks to the colour of their walls).One way this sister was different from the other sister was that she never lost her children in a supermarket.My other sister left her son in a supermarket trolley because she was so caught up in billing and forgot that she had brought a child along.I doubt if she would ever go to a supermarket and forget again (the child in question was pretty happy to be seeing the world from a different perspective)
Of course as time went on my sister lived life on her terms and her children grew used to that and enjoyed themselves and did rather well for themselves but my sisters active imagination creates stories that keep us in fits whenever she arrives at any of our homes.Like my mother always says...take her with a huge bag of salt.
She is now a grandmother but since the kids live in another country we are yet to hear morbid tales of her grand parenting ways.In time she will come up with stories that will sound like fairy tales and have us all either crying in despair or rolling with laughter.She is the ultimate entertainer
My sister is addicted to books,she will read anything she can get her hands on so when her first child was born,my mother put a ban on books.When my sister starts reading she forgets the world and my mother was more interested in her first grand son being cared for than for the latest Agatha Christie.My sister of course had other ideas.She fell in line but soon got bored so her way of getting both jobs done was to balance the child on her lap and hold her book in one hand,a bowl of cereal in the other and she would spoon the goo into the child's mouth by braille while she finished her latest book.It drove my mother mad but there was very little she could do about it.
When her children were a lot older,she let them do what they wanted.The messy rooms were soon cover up with innovative curtain ideas but she couldn't dream of cleaning up the mess.For years their home had pretty dark coloured wall and no one did anything about it.When the kids had left home and someone decided to paint the walls white,the house changed character.My sisters vivid imagination took a pretty funny turn and in one of those discussions with me she wondered if her children's lives had been darkened by the colour of the wall.Perhaps she had not been a good mother,maybe a little more care would have resulted in happier children (her kids are very happy but its sound like a better story line to imagine that they had dark lives and were unhappy thanks to the colour of their walls).One way this sister was different from the other sister was that she never lost her children in a supermarket.My other sister left her son in a supermarket trolley because she was so caught up in billing and forgot that she had brought a child along.I doubt if she would ever go to a supermarket and forget again (the child in question was pretty happy to be seeing the world from a different perspective)
Of course as time went on my sister lived life on her terms and her children grew used to that and enjoyed themselves and did rather well for themselves but my sisters active imagination creates stories that keep us in fits whenever she arrives at any of our homes.Like my mother always says...take her with a huge bag of salt.
She is now a grandmother but since the kids live in another country we are yet to hear morbid tales of her grand parenting ways.In time she will come up with stories that will sound like fairy tales and have us all either crying in despair or rolling with laughter.She is the ultimate entertainer
Thursday, August 23, 2007
old age and plans
For a few years now....no lets be precise....for two years now a group of us ladies (I still think girls is so much better but well) have been meeting on and off for a drink and pot luck.Any excuse to get together.Our conversations has over the years revolved around old parents,young children,trying bosses and husband who drive us mad,but who for some reason some of us love and others hate.
Over these last years we have seen children grow up and leave home,divorce happen,husbands being absent more often than not thanks to work.Long and short of it is that suddenly we are a bunch of women who are almost always alone.So we meet,to support each other,to cheer and encourage and comfort.We have now moved past all of these topics of yesteryear's to our current obsession.Retirement plans.Increasingly we are discussing setting up homes close to each other of creating revenue generating ideas that we can all work out together .Our plans are varied.It ranges from babysitting business to food chains to managing talent and so on and so forth.Yesterday two of us has already though of doing our Ph D and were looking for funding.
We are also aware that none of us can possibly be at home doing nothing.We are restless spirits,we need to do stuff.The conversations continue but we haven't got down to concrete plan.
I believe its all about what we are doing at the moment.Secretly we all enjoy what we do,we love bitching about our bosses...imagine life with out a fussy boss,we love complaining about our dysfunctional families...unfortunately we love them.We hate city traffic but are ready to drive off at the drop of a hat,we hate parties but love to go just to watch everyone else.Well why then are we discussing retirement.Me thinks we are not ready for it,but as a topic for late evening conversations,its perfect.
I dread to think of this gang being at home jobless.Not only will we drive ourselves mad,we will probably drive the rest of our families crazy too.
Over these last years we have seen children grow up and leave home,divorce happen,husbands being absent more often than not thanks to work.Long and short of it is that suddenly we are a bunch of women who are almost always alone.So we meet,to support each other,to cheer and encourage and comfort.We have now moved past all of these topics of yesteryear's to our current obsession.Retirement plans.Increasingly we are discussing setting up homes close to each other of creating revenue generating ideas that we can all work out together .Our plans are varied.It ranges from babysitting business to food chains to managing talent and so on and so forth.Yesterday two of us has already though of doing our Ph D and were looking for funding.
We are also aware that none of us can possibly be at home doing nothing.We are restless spirits,we need to do stuff.The conversations continue but we haven't got down to concrete plan.
I believe its all about what we are doing at the moment.Secretly we all enjoy what we do,we love bitching about our bosses...imagine life with out a fussy boss,we love complaining about our dysfunctional families...unfortunately we love them.We hate city traffic but are ready to drive off at the drop of a hat,we hate parties but love to go just to watch everyone else.Well why then are we discussing retirement.Me thinks we are not ready for it,but as a topic for late evening conversations,its perfect.
I dread to think of this gang being at home jobless.Not only will we drive ourselves mad,we will probably drive the rest of our families crazy too.
see saw fads
Whats it now,a month or more,not sure,but some of the blogging in me went out of the window.Not surprising really considering how everyone I know asks me what my latest fad is.The annoying thing is that the question is accompanied with a knowing smile which really says...oh well we never expected her to stick to anything for long.Considering I have stuck to jobs a lot more than others and stuck to husband for years and years,all this is a bit unkind.
Alright lets give all my friends and well wishers the benefit of doubt,and tell everyone what the fads have been.Started with learning tanjore painting which fell by the wayside the moment it graduated into craft.Hate messing around with glue and paint and stuff like that.A Faber castel pencil with soft lead is just for me.Doodling is more my thing.
Then it was this blog which I couldn't get enough of so I wrote and wrote and felt good.Never mind that no one reads it but its good for my soul to know that all this is being recorded for posterity.Then life took a bad turn and turned busy and the corporate cat was reduced to corporate rat and then the race started in full earnest,so the blog went for a toss until today when I discovered I had a mew left in me.
The last two months have been about getting out of bed at 5.30 am and dashing off to the gym.Its resulted in my feeling lighter and more energetic and very proud of myself.The tragedy is that its all motivated by guilt.Because the arrangement is that a friend picks me up,I hate to let her down so off I go.On days I need to pick her up its the same story....guilt.And to think guilt is a negative emotion.Don't know how long it will last but there are a set of clothes in my cupboard from the thin days that are waiting for me.
That's about the current obsession,fad whatever.
Alright lets give all my friends and well wishers the benefit of doubt,and tell everyone what the fads have been.Started with learning tanjore painting which fell by the wayside the moment it graduated into craft.Hate messing around with glue and paint and stuff like that.A Faber castel pencil with soft lead is just for me.Doodling is more my thing.
Then it was this blog which I couldn't get enough of so I wrote and wrote and felt good.Never mind that no one reads it but its good for my soul to know that all this is being recorded for posterity.Then life took a bad turn and turned busy and the corporate cat was reduced to corporate rat and then the race started in full earnest,so the blog went for a toss until today when I discovered I had a mew left in me.
The last two months have been about getting out of bed at 5.30 am and dashing off to the gym.Its resulted in my feeling lighter and more energetic and very proud of myself.The tragedy is that its all motivated by guilt.Because the arrangement is that a friend picks me up,I hate to let her down so off I go.On days I need to pick her up its the same story....guilt.And to think guilt is a negative emotion.Don't know how long it will last but there are a set of clothes in my cupboard from the thin days that are waiting for me.
That's about the current obsession,fad whatever.
Wednesday, August 01, 2007
Mistakes and rewards
He was all of 25,when he came to see me about a job.He looked like a bodybuilder,casual clothes but obviously working out in a gym.He said that since it was a Friday he was allowed to wear casual clothes.He was recommended by a friend,but being one to take my own decisions,I asked him all the questions I normally ask someone looking for a job.
I had to recruit so after about two or three interactions I decided to give him the job.No one could believe it.He was not the kind who would pass muster with me,so why did I agree.
I am really not sure,his English wasn't great,he didn't look like he was very quick on the uptake but there was something there,some spark that I couldn't put my finger on.So the deed was done.
From the day he came on board I figured I had made a huge mistake,I questioned my decision after hounding the boy for days,I coaxed,yelled,counselled and did everything I could possibly do and handed him over to another person.Why did I spend so much time on what was clearly a mistake.Well very simple.He came from a background where learning by rote was accepted.At school they didn't teach them to apply their mind.Is that my problem...no but the point is we are increasingly creating people who are spoon fed to such an extent that their life skills are totally lacking.After three months of constant talking I realised what I had always known.Here was a person who had studied and worked in isolation.No one had bothered to train,mentor or coach.We assume everyone will pick up but that's not true.No two individuals are alike and no two people can be treated alike.The person was not fit for the job at hand but did that make him unemployable.No,he probably would do a lot better someplace else.Everyone thought I had sacked him.Such a harsh word,so negative.In common parlance that's what I did,but I took the pains of explaining that his flaws could be rectified,pointed out that life was not easy at the best of times and that it was important to find a job that one enjoyed and identified with.He listened but I was never sure he appreciated any of what I said.
He left the company but continued to keep in touch without any negativity.Yesterday he called from the airport on his way to study MBA in Marketing in Australia.He had crammed and got through the various tests that the university set for him , got admission,organised a student loan and was calling us to say that if it hadn't been for the time my colleague and I had spent on him,badgered him,yelled at him and generally tried every trick in the book to make him see sense,he would have still been in some company doing a job he want interested in or didn't have the aptitude for.Today as he speaks to us he is a more confident chap and seems to have realised that life is not so easy after all but that it has its rewards.
When I put that phone down I realised that what seemed like my biggest mistake,was also my biggest learning.My beliefe that all individuals have something good in them,some talent waiting to be discovered if we bothered to find it,was paying off.I am so glad I made a mistake!!!
I had to recruit so after about two or three interactions I decided to give him the job.No one could believe it.He was not the kind who would pass muster with me,so why did I agree.
I am really not sure,his English wasn't great,he didn't look like he was very quick on the uptake but there was something there,some spark that I couldn't put my finger on.So the deed was done.
From the day he came on board I figured I had made a huge mistake,I questioned my decision after hounding the boy for days,I coaxed,yelled,counselled and did everything I could possibly do and handed him over to another person.Why did I spend so much time on what was clearly a mistake.Well very simple.He came from a background where learning by rote was accepted.At school they didn't teach them to apply their mind.Is that my problem...no but the point is we are increasingly creating people who are spoon fed to such an extent that their life skills are totally lacking.After three months of constant talking I realised what I had always known.Here was a person who had studied and worked in isolation.No one had bothered to train,mentor or coach.We assume everyone will pick up but that's not true.No two individuals are alike and no two people can be treated alike.The person was not fit for the job at hand but did that make him unemployable.No,he probably would do a lot better someplace else.Everyone thought I had sacked him.Such a harsh word,so negative.In common parlance that's what I did,but I took the pains of explaining that his flaws could be rectified,pointed out that life was not easy at the best of times and that it was important to find a job that one enjoyed and identified with.He listened but I was never sure he appreciated any of what I said.
He left the company but continued to keep in touch without any negativity.Yesterday he called from the airport on his way to study MBA in Marketing in Australia.He had crammed and got through the various tests that the university set for him , got admission,organised a student loan and was calling us to say that if it hadn't been for the time my colleague and I had spent on him,badgered him,yelled at him and generally tried every trick in the book to make him see sense,he would have still been in some company doing a job he want interested in or didn't have the aptitude for.Today as he speaks to us he is a more confident chap and seems to have realised that life is not so easy after all but that it has its rewards.
When I put that phone down I realised that what seemed like my biggest mistake,was also my biggest learning.My beliefe that all individuals have something good in them,some talent waiting to be discovered if we bothered to find it,was paying off.I am so glad I made a mistake!!!
Monday, July 30, 2007
Remember
There always seems to be an anniversary around.Birthdays,weddings,deaths,aniv of when we met,aniv of how long we worked,aniv of one project or the other.Frankly these anniversaries leave me cold.Whats so special really.Ok so it was a big occasion for that year and that moment but why keep harping about it.Why not look to something new.I for one cannot remember my own birthday (maybe I don't want to accept old age) Will remember wedding aniv or the husband will be very offended.Will remember parents birthdays (they are old and will feel unwanted).So all the dates I remember have some meaning but why would I want to remember when I joined a company x(actually I had better remember,need a raise).
People are always sending these updates on birthday lists.People who don't talk to me or write to me and want to remember my birthday.Give me a break...why on earth would they want to.Of course if they wanted to send me a gift that would be fine and relevant.
So today I am going to cut a cake for yet another anniversary but this is part of a role I need to play so shall pin up a nice smile,put some warmth into my voice and a twinkle in my eye and shall enjoy the performance.
People are always sending these updates on birthday lists.People who don't talk to me or write to me and want to remember my birthday.Give me a break...why on earth would they want to.Of course if they wanted to send me a gift that would be fine and relevant.
So today I am going to cut a cake for yet another anniversary but this is part of a role I need to play so shall pin up a nice smile,put some warmth into my voice and a twinkle in my eye and shall enjoy the performance.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Old friends.
Some friends I 've been in touch with for years.Actually I could count my friends on my fingers.These are special people.People who I can call at any time,drop in on them unexpectedly,call over when I am so bored with my own company that I could cry.Well some have been around for 25 years.Some even longer.All of us have some common line,some were in school together,some in college,others worked together.We discovered we had common friends and the bonds grew deeper.
Over the years,we have shared our taste for entertainment,books,men,relationships.Its uncanny how we would pour over those silly questionnaires in women's magazines only to realise that we all got the same or similar scores,so we start doing them for ourselves and then for our friends.
As we grew older,our style sense get more similar,we wear similar clothes,have our hair cut the same way.We live within shouting distance of each other,not by intent or design but by sheer accident.
We didn't realise how similar we had become.We didn't realise that we had influenced each others lives so much that we could finish a sentence for the other.It was driven home to us at a party.My friend and I walked into the room,and someone who didn't know us in the group thought we were sisters.We looked at each other and laughed but that was it.
Soon I was out with another friend also of 20 odd years and the same question.I couldn't look like three people all at once could I but the similarities were there.We even chose the same colours,used the same phrases,even married people who had lots in common with each other.
I begin to think that my real sisters have far less in common with me than these girlfriends of long ago.Maybe this is called sisterhood.Well whatever it is I sure am glad these girls are so much a part of my life.
Over the years,we have shared our taste for entertainment,books,men,relationships.Its uncanny how we would pour over those silly questionnaires in women's magazines only to realise that we all got the same or similar scores,so we start doing them for ourselves and then for our friends.
As we grew older,our style sense get more similar,we wear similar clothes,have our hair cut the same way.We live within shouting distance of each other,not by intent or design but by sheer accident.
We didn't realise how similar we had become.We didn't realise that we had influenced each others lives so much that we could finish a sentence for the other.It was driven home to us at a party.My friend and I walked into the room,and someone who didn't know us in the group thought we were sisters.We looked at each other and laughed but that was it.
Soon I was out with another friend also of 20 odd years and the same question.I couldn't look like three people all at once could I but the similarities were there.We even chose the same colours,used the same phrases,even married people who had lots in common with each other.
I begin to think that my real sisters have far less in common with me than these girlfriends of long ago.Maybe this is called sisterhood.Well whatever it is I sure am glad these girls are so much a part of my life.
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
mushrooming in the monsoons
Monsoons are a great time to be in Kerala,especially if the house was on the backwaters and as far away from civilization as possible.The reason being that it rains and rains nonstop and as kids we always wondered how Noah built his ark.But the real story is the one of the mushrooms.Soon after the rains we would rush out into the fields surrounding the house,baskets in hand.There would be a dime a dozen fresh mushrooms,literally mushrooming around the place.We would scramble to pick the most number,fresh from the soil,the aroma of rain and wet earth was a heady mixture.We were taught how to differentiate between the regular ones and the poisonous ones but for the life of me I cant remember what it was.
The fresh mushrooms unlike the super market variety were thin,spindly ones and a grayish brown in colour.
They would be washed and mixed with grated coconut,steamed over a hot coal fire and served up garnished with mustard and curry leaves.Even before it was served up we would spoon it off the mud pots in which it was cook and relish the aftermath of the monsoons,mushroom style.
Why of why have those grasslands given way to concrete jungles.Why do we have to buy mushrooms from the supermarket all packed in plastic when all it required were bare hands.Well one thing even concrete jungles cant take away are my memories.I can still smell fresh rain drenched earth long after the cement has taken over.
The fresh mushrooms unlike the super market variety were thin,spindly ones and a grayish brown in colour.
They would be washed and mixed with grated coconut,steamed over a hot coal fire and served up garnished with mustard and curry leaves.Even before it was served up we would spoon it off the mud pots in which it was cook and relish the aftermath of the monsoons,mushroom style.
Why of why have those grasslands given way to concrete jungles.Why do we have to buy mushrooms from the supermarket all packed in plastic when all it required were bare hands.Well one thing even concrete jungles cant take away are my memories.I can still smell fresh rain drenched earth long after the cement has taken over.
Monday, July 16, 2007
The burger man
Its pouring rain and like mother Hubbard's cupboard,there is nothing in mine.Hunger drives me out of the house to the local shop to pick up stuff.Charmed the husband into driving in the rain which means that I don't need to get out of the car.He is very fussy about the car getting dirty and calamity Jane like me will put muddy feet on the mat .So to avoid all that he will get off in the rain,run to the shop and pick up stuff while I watch the world go by from the misty window of the car.
There are many shops in the place that once had just a sprawling house.Now there is a grocery store,vegetable shop,florist,soup stall,snack bar and a burger joint.All of them doing brisk business.Everyone stops for something or the other.The burger place is what gets my attention.It has the picture of a hamburger on it and a real good photograph at that.Looks good enough to eat,if you don't care for the junk bits.
The chap manning the stall is busy creating the burger.First he slathers a bun with tomato sauce,diluted many times over.Then on goes onion rings,tomato slices,some soggy vegetable cutlet which has been fried in old heated many times over.To top it all there is a slice of cheese.It looks nothing like the photograph but its ready and waiting for its next victim.
In the heavy downpour,a family leaves the grocery store.Their two children tag along behind them.Its pretty obvious that these kids have been fed on a diet of chips,coke,and all the junk one can get in the many fast food places.Suddenly the burger man steps out of this stall and beams at the two children.He exchanges a few words and the magic happens.The children tug at their fathers arm and insist on a burger.The hapless man doesn't stand a chance.He orders two and the kids light up with glee.The rain doesn't matter,they chomp with relish on the burger and if that's not enough the burger man has convinced them that one is not enough so they pack two for the road.
The soup stall isn't doing too badly either.They have tomato,mushroom,plantain pith and vegetable soup.Its been heated many times over and is hot and tempting.People line up with little paper cup for a glass of the brew.They look at the people at the burger place in disdain.These are the healthy ones,they stick to soup.If only they would look behind to the kitchen.No self respecting person would eat from a kitchen of that kind but who cares.This whole food business is a fad,something to talk about and a place to meet friends and hang out.
It doesn't cost much to set up so why am I looking at them and bitching about them when I ought to put my skills to good use and start a salad bar?.Why not indeed,perhaps I lack the will,or its just an excuse to do nothing.Oh well I did get inspired enough to make my version of a beef burger at home
There are many shops in the place that once had just a sprawling house.Now there is a grocery store,vegetable shop,florist,soup stall,snack bar and a burger joint.All of them doing brisk business.Everyone stops for something or the other.The burger place is what gets my attention.It has the picture of a hamburger on it and a real good photograph at that.Looks good enough to eat,if you don't care for the junk bits.
The chap manning the stall is busy creating the burger.First he slathers a bun with tomato sauce,diluted many times over.Then on goes onion rings,tomato slices,some soggy vegetable cutlet which has been fried in old heated many times over.To top it all there is a slice of cheese.It looks nothing like the photograph but its ready and waiting for its next victim.
In the heavy downpour,a family leaves the grocery store.Their two children tag along behind them.Its pretty obvious that these kids have been fed on a diet of chips,coke,and all the junk one can get in the many fast food places.Suddenly the burger man steps out of this stall and beams at the two children.He exchanges a few words and the magic happens.The children tug at their fathers arm and insist on a burger.The hapless man doesn't stand a chance.He orders two and the kids light up with glee.The rain doesn't matter,they chomp with relish on the burger and if that's not enough the burger man has convinced them that one is not enough so they pack two for the road.
The soup stall isn't doing too badly either.They have tomato,mushroom,plantain pith and vegetable soup.Its been heated many times over and is hot and tempting.People line up with little paper cup for a glass of the brew.They look at the people at the burger place in disdain.These are the healthy ones,they stick to soup.If only they would look behind to the kitchen.No self respecting person would eat from a kitchen of that kind but who cares.This whole food business is a fad,something to talk about and a place to meet friends and hang out.
It doesn't cost much to set up so why am I looking at them and bitching about them when I ought to put my skills to good use and start a salad bar?.Why not indeed,perhaps I lack the will,or its just an excuse to do nothing.Oh well I did get inspired enough to make my version of a beef burger at home
Thursday, July 12, 2007
the Namesake
Sometime last week,my sister sent me a very formal sms addressed to me by my official name.I figured she had sent it to the wrong person or on second thoughts,she may have been in one of her formal moods.Long and short of it was that either ways I didn't quiet get it.Something to do with a baby being born to someone and being named Rebecca
Silly me had forgotten that in far away Australia lived a niece who was expecting a baby.After a few phone calls from excited members of my family it dawned on me that there was a new baby who had become my namesake.
I am (according to most normal people)expected to be very happy that the latest addition to our family has been named after me.Its a rare honour,rarer because the niece in question is no great fan of mine (or so I believe).The entire family had various explanations as to why the child was allegedly named after me.The first and most amusing one was that she was named after a favourite aunt.(give me a break,I am no ones favourite).A friend said that she was conceived in my home (the maths just didn't work out so we killed that).Most of the family went with the first one.I didn't react,didn't blog on this either as I wasn't sure what I am expected to feel.
Ha but the niece put it all to rest.She wanted to know what I felt about her daughters name(what can I say,except that since its my name it is obviously a wise choice).Then the big question was she named after me (she says yes) Last and final question...why me (hey that is still unanswered,because my clever niece is thinking up some wisecrack answer to that one.
Suffice to say that with my name to begin life with,what more can a child ask for!!!!!
Perhaps I should hop on my broomstick and take a trip to Australia and wave a magic wand.Me thinks its a good idea.
Silly me had forgotten that in far away Australia lived a niece who was expecting a baby.After a few phone calls from excited members of my family it dawned on me that there was a new baby who had become my namesake.
I am (according to most normal people)expected to be very happy that the latest addition to our family has been named after me.Its a rare honour,rarer because the niece in question is no great fan of mine (or so I believe).The entire family had various explanations as to why the child was allegedly named after me.The first and most amusing one was that she was named after a favourite aunt.(give me a break,I am no ones favourite).A friend said that she was conceived in my home (the maths just didn't work out so we killed that).Most of the family went with the first one.I didn't react,didn't blog on this either as I wasn't sure what I am expected to feel.
Ha but the niece put it all to rest.She wanted to know what I felt about her daughters name(what can I say,except that since its my name it is obviously a wise choice).Then the big question was she named after me (she says yes) Last and final question...why me (hey that is still unanswered,because my clever niece is thinking up some wisecrack answer to that one.
Suffice to say that with my name to begin life with,what more can a child ask for!!!!!
Perhaps I should hop on my broomstick and take a trip to Australia and wave a magic wand.Me thinks its a good idea.
fishy tales
Things have gotten real fishy of late.To begin with the temperatures sored suddenly and the heat became unbearable.The first causality was diet,so as executive chef of our household I took the decision to ban chicken and red meat from our diet.That left sea food as the only option as we are not very fond of vegetables it has to be something that once swam or crawled.
Decision taken,the next stop was the fish stall.Now this is an interesting place.It smells to high heaven but has the most amazing variety of seafood.Pearl spot,trout,angelfish and the list is endless.There are fresh squids with their ink intact and prawns and lovely lobsters to die for.
The fun of being in a fish shop is to check all the fish out so I start with checking the gills,if they are not red then I refuse to buy them,next step is to plod the stomach,it has to be firm to the touch or the fish is not fresh.Its more of a ritual and all this ads to the fun of checking it all out.
Then I made the mistake of checking the price.Something very fishy has happened in this city.Prawns were the most expensive normally and this was one of those Sunday special treats,but with all the heat,the fish was selling at trice the price of prawns.Shocked out of my skin I quickly reversed my earlier rule of no red meat.Out of the shop in a hurry,I hurried to charm my butcher for a nice good piece of steak.Oh well I never was fishy so why start now.
Decision taken,the next stop was the fish stall.Now this is an interesting place.It smells to high heaven but has the most amazing variety of seafood.Pearl spot,trout,angelfish and the list is endless.There are fresh squids with their ink intact and prawns and lovely lobsters to die for.
The fun of being in a fish shop is to check all the fish out so I start with checking the gills,if they are not red then I refuse to buy them,next step is to plod the stomach,it has to be firm to the touch or the fish is not fresh.Its more of a ritual and all this ads to the fun of checking it all out.
Then I made the mistake of checking the price.Something very fishy has happened in this city.Prawns were the most expensive normally and this was one of those Sunday special treats,but with all the heat,the fish was selling at trice the price of prawns.Shocked out of my skin I quickly reversed my earlier rule of no red meat.Out of the shop in a hurry,I hurried to charm my butcher for a nice good piece of steak.Oh well I never was fishy so why start now.
Saturday, July 07, 2007
huff and puff and blow my weight down.
It seems like ages since I wrote anything but work kills creativity,that much I am sure about.When the phone rings at unearthly hours and its the boss on line,rest assured your day and week and month are all gone for a toss.Actually this ought to be the best time to blog but couldn't think of anything but work.Rather dull and when at a party,I look blank during conversation coz I was busy thinking of work,then for sure I have to climb back to being normal.
Whats normal I wonder.In my case it ought to be a full evening of shopping for goodies at the latest food store,but thanks to some well meaning friends who have conspired with the husband,food shopping is no longer on my list.They have done the unthinkable.I have been enrolled in a gym for three months.Heaven forbid I loose weight,it may become another three months.If that's not enough its an all woman gym so no hope of flirting or admiring well maintained bodies.Oh well it has its good points.For starters everyone is around 75 to 80 kgs on average so not to worry about being too fat.Everyone puffs and pants so again safety in numbers.Learning to use a skipping rope and run around like I did in school.Young chap (lone ,an in gym) is a task master so no let up in breaks.The body protests and cries in pain,the spirit is in two minds,but the friends and husband are not about to let go,so I dream of slim me in low waist jeans,chiffon sarees and all.Considering that I ve lost my appetite,drink green tea without sugar,have salades for lunch etc,I don't know myself anymore.Guess this is what they mean by the two faces of eve.
Whats normal I wonder.In my case it ought to be a full evening of shopping for goodies at the latest food store,but thanks to some well meaning friends who have conspired with the husband,food shopping is no longer on my list.They have done the unthinkable.I have been enrolled in a gym for three months.Heaven forbid I loose weight,it may become another three months.If that's not enough its an all woman gym so no hope of flirting or admiring well maintained bodies.Oh well it has its good points.For starters everyone is around 75 to 80 kgs on average so not to worry about being too fat.Everyone puffs and pants so again safety in numbers.Learning to use a skipping rope and run around like I did in school.Young chap (lone ,an in gym) is a task master so no let up in breaks.The body protests and cries in pain,the spirit is in two minds,but the friends and husband are not about to let go,so I dream of slim me in low waist jeans,chiffon sarees and all.Considering that I ve lost my appetite,drink green tea without sugar,have salades for lunch etc,I don't know myself anymore.Guess this is what they mean by the two faces of eve.
sms,chat and what have we
It dawned on me today that I am a fossil.I ought to be deep under the ground,transforming myself into a diamond but I cling to this modern world despite being clueless of its jargon,its short msg (hey I got that right) and all the rest of it.
It happened while chatting with a ten year old (behaves like and adult,thinks like one but is a child at heart) on gmail chat.It goes like this....heloooo (hello) byeeeeeee(bye but why so many e's,I think its supposed to mean something).K (what ever that means,is it his name or a short form for something else) lol (i would like to think this is lots of love but in mid sentence it doesnt fit in but shall delude myself) what lo (still trying to figure that one out.
The long and short of it is that I am now in the market for an sms dictionary and if anyone knows where I can get one please do call.Or should that be poc?!!!
It happened while chatting with a ten year old (behaves like and adult,thinks like one but is a child at heart) on gmail chat.It goes like this....heloooo (hello) byeeeeeee(bye but why so many e's,I think its supposed to mean something).K (what ever that means,is it his name or a short form for something else) lol (i would like to think this is lots of love but in mid sentence it doesnt fit in but shall delude myself) what lo (still trying to figure that one out.
The long and short of it is that I am now in the market for an sms dictionary and if anyone knows where I can get one please do call.Or should that be poc?!!!
Friday, June 22, 2007
corporate cat
I belong to a group of people who are best described as harried corporate executives with busy schedules and even busier lives,but it ends right there.I cant seem to fit myself into the rate race that's the corporate world.Guess thats because I see myself more as a cat than a rat.Oh well that's another story.
What really bring this on is a recent visit (official business please note) to some little town that required air travel and therefore the need to spend an hour in an airport lounge.If you belong in the rate race then its mandatory to get hold of a driver or a taxi to drive you to the airport in rush hour.I prefer whenever possible to drive to airport,(park car and pick it up on return). and no I am not listening to the latest update from the Economic Times.I am listening to old old Hindi music of Rafi and Kishore Kumar and enjoying braying along with the few words that my limited Hindi will permit.
Park the car and grab handbag ,enter check in and then to lounge for a cup of tea and watching people.Note (very important) I have only a handbag and a book to read.Everyone else in the rat race has a laptop and cell phone plugged into their ears (mine is in the handbag where I am sure I will have to search for it if and when it rings).So a cup of tea arrives and I take a good look around.Ninenty percent of the men and women in the lounge don't have time for tea.All laptops are open,phones plugged in,wireless plugged in and furious typing is on.I marvel at these people.What can be of such earth shattering importance that they have to handle it now.Cant they enjoy a cup of tea read the newspaper and generally have fun?.There is of course one person who decides to chat me up so we get talking and he wants to know why I am travelling so we discuss review meetings and general tit bits of corporate life and he suddenly notices that I am without a laptop,oh well you cant be a very stressed person,no laptop,what kind of review are you going for?.What I don't tell him is that old fashioned me has all the figures neatly re cored in pieces of paper in the handbag.Good enough for me.Remember I am not part of rat race.I am cat.
Enter plane.Find seat and open in flight magazine.All other persons are giving last minute instructions on cell phone(about what beats me).Flight in mid air and laptops come out again.I seriously suspect that this is just some ploy to fit into the pre determined profile of rat race person.Rather silly.I am watching lovely fluffy clouds pass by,eating junk food that passes for airline food and looking around to spot at least one interesting man (yet to spot on and have been flying for years).
Plane lands and everyone jumps up.It takes at least five minutes to deplane so why the hurry.I remain in my seat and cellphone in power off mode but everyone else has started instructions,messages etc etc.Everyone has that stressed look,everyone is power dressed and everyone is on official business.I am fabindia clad,lone handbag in hand and cellphone in power off mode and I am also part of the rat race but you see I am the cat in the rat race so as superior species,I just purr.....
What really bring this on is a recent visit (official business please note) to some little town that required air travel and therefore the need to spend an hour in an airport lounge.If you belong in the rate race then its mandatory to get hold of a driver or a taxi to drive you to the airport in rush hour.I prefer whenever possible to drive to airport,(park car and pick it up on return). and no I am not listening to the latest update from the Economic Times.I am listening to old old Hindi music of Rafi and Kishore Kumar and enjoying braying along with the few words that my limited Hindi will permit.
Park the car and grab handbag ,enter check in and then to lounge for a cup of tea and watching people.Note (very important) I have only a handbag and a book to read.Everyone else in the rat race has a laptop and cell phone plugged into their ears (mine is in the handbag where I am sure I will have to search for it if and when it rings).So a cup of tea arrives and I take a good look around.Ninenty percent of the men and women in the lounge don't have time for tea.All laptops are open,phones plugged in,wireless plugged in and furious typing is on.I marvel at these people.What can be of such earth shattering importance that they have to handle it now.Cant they enjoy a cup of tea read the newspaper and generally have fun?.There is of course one person who decides to chat me up so we get talking and he wants to know why I am travelling so we discuss review meetings and general tit bits of corporate life and he suddenly notices that I am without a laptop,oh well you cant be a very stressed person,no laptop,what kind of review are you going for?.What I don't tell him is that old fashioned me has all the figures neatly re cored in pieces of paper in the handbag.Good enough for me.Remember I am not part of rat race.I am cat.
Enter plane.Find seat and open in flight magazine.All other persons are giving last minute instructions on cell phone(about what beats me).Flight in mid air and laptops come out again.I seriously suspect that this is just some ploy to fit into the pre determined profile of rat race person.Rather silly.I am watching lovely fluffy clouds pass by,eating junk food that passes for airline food and looking around to spot at least one interesting man (yet to spot on and have been flying for years).
Plane lands and everyone jumps up.It takes at least five minutes to deplane so why the hurry.I remain in my seat and cellphone in power off mode but everyone else has started instructions,messages etc etc.Everyone has that stressed look,everyone is power dressed and everyone is on official business.I am fabindia clad,lone handbag in hand and cellphone in power off mode and I am also part of the rat race but you see I am the cat in the rat race so as superior species,I just purr.....
Thursday, June 14, 2007
c'est la vie
Change,I am not a great one for change but I am restless.It tires me the same old routine,get to office,check mail,read papers,throw weight around,deal with nice or not so nice customers,go home,get dinner ready (this part is therapy)read,listen to music,sleep and tomorrow is another day.
So I have had enough for now,the first step was to change the layout of this blog,it reflects my mood,from somber,serious blue its gone to good old orange.My favourite colour,actually any shade of orange,red etc....just the right colour to perk me up.
Today all my friends came back from their various holidays so that's good but when the disappear the do just that and like spam mail they disappear together so me,I am left to my own .
Have nothing to write about,that's how dull life has suddenly become.Oh well c'est la vie
So I have had enough for now,the first step was to change the layout of this blog,it reflects my mood,from somber,serious blue its gone to good old orange.My favourite colour,actually any shade of orange,red etc....just the right colour to perk me up.
Today all my friends came back from their various holidays so that's good but when the disappear the do just that and like spam mail they disappear together so me,I am left to my own .
Have nothing to write about,that's how dull life has suddenly become.Oh well c'est la vie
Thursday, June 07, 2007
rules are meant for breaking
Last week the government issued an ultimatum to all bike riders that they simply had to wear crash helmets.They also insisted all car users use their seat belts.I read it and dismissed it.These rules have come and gone a million times and no one follows it nor is it implemented .I was therefore pretty shocked to see almost everyone on their bikes wear helmets and the shops had long ques of people waiting to buy helmets.
I decided that an old hat like me should realise that the current lot of people are getting used to rules and will fall in line unlike some of us who believed rules are meant to be broken.This was becoming like other countries where people follow rules.
I went home happier that my world was becoming sensitive to security and safety,especially when the cop in front of our office has been crying himself silly trying to make people follow simple traffic rules.
The long and short of it was that for all my dreaming about a better world,it all shattered when non other than the chief minister himself diluted the rule the next day saying it was ok not to wear helmets.So its back to helmet less driving and so much for rules and discipline and the good world.
I decided that an old hat like me should realise that the current lot of people are getting used to rules and will fall in line unlike some of us who believed rules are meant to be broken.This was becoming like other countries where people follow rules.
I went home happier that my world was becoming sensitive to security and safety,especially when the cop in front of our office has been crying himself silly trying to make people follow simple traffic rules.
The long and short of it was that for all my dreaming about a better world,it all shattered when non other than the chief minister himself diluted the rule the next day saying it was ok not to wear helmets.So its back to helmet less driving and so much for rules and discipline and the good world.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Games elder sisters play
Almost all the furniture in our house is ancient.We didn't have the money to buy new stuff,but we also love old stuff so on all counts it turned out fine.
The first to arrive was a two seater settee and two chairs accompanied by a lovely hexagonal teapoy,all in dark burnished rosewood.(very typical furniture in most mallu households)This set is 57 years old and was the first piece of furniture that my parents bought after their wedding.Nothing romantic about that,my parents like true blood mallus are not romantic by any stretch of imagination.Like average Syrian Christian parents,they were pretty shocked when I picked up the old stuff in favour of the newer ones,but therein lies a tale.
Two elder sisters left in charge of a helpless child when the mother was taking an afternoon nap,is a recipe for disaster(i mean disaster for the poor child).My sisters had this game called "third class compartment".With the father being in the railways,we spent many hours on railway platforms(my fathers idea of being on time was to arrive at least an hour ahead of schedule) soaking in the sights and sounds and smells of the grand central.In the process we watched with great interest the scramble for seats in the unreserved third class compartment(it doesn't exist anymore).My sisters came home to the settee at home and converted this into the unreserved compartment,hence the name of the game.
My elder sister has a great imagination and everything has to look as real as possible,so jostling for space in a compartment can only be replicated if one has baggage to store.They would look around for baggage and they would find me.The elder sister would then take one of our mothers sarees,make a little sack out of it,dump me in and swing me across her shoulder.I had become baggage.The other sister would run across the room(their substitute for railway platform) and jump onto the settee,and with one big shove my elder sis and her baggage would have to struggle for balance.The settee creaked and shuddered while they threw abuses at each other(imitation of everything they heard while on the railway platform).They would settle down after much grumbling with poor me squashed into the back of the settee.They would them imagine and swing to imaginary movement of trains and when they had gotten tired of all this,the baggage would be dumped on the ground and I would have returned to being an useless child until the next game.
My second sister is a hairdresser who never made it (she had these aspirations as long as i was a willing Guinea pig.On afternoons when the railways game had been don't to death,they would convert the settee into a beauty shop (their name for it).I would be dumped on the chair,towel wrapped around me like a bib and they would get to work.They started by teasing my hair (their term for it)so a comb would run half way through the hair and they would tangle up all my baby curls to make me look like a birds best gone horribly wrong.The our mothers red max factor lipstick would come out and my mouth would turn into a big red gash.The lipstick would them be rubbed into my cheeks as rouge .Not satisfied,they would take an eye pencil and draw dark eyebrows and darken my eyes.I dare not make a sound (mother was taking a nap and I was at the mercy of the two).When all was done they would flourish a looking glass with great style in front of me and I had to smile and scrape the ground in eternal gratefulness for the masterpiece they had created.The before our mother woke up my elder sister(in this game is is assistant) would wash my face clean ,wipe it dry and look like angles before the poor mother got wise to any of the happenings of the afternoon
How could I possibly not take this little piece of history to my own flat.Its filled with a hundred memories and no new sofa however stylish would ever replace it.
The first to arrive was a two seater settee and two chairs accompanied by a lovely hexagonal teapoy,all in dark burnished rosewood.(very typical furniture in most mallu households)This set is 57 years old and was the first piece of furniture that my parents bought after their wedding.Nothing romantic about that,my parents like true blood mallus are not romantic by any stretch of imagination.Like average Syrian Christian parents,they were pretty shocked when I picked up the old stuff in favour of the newer ones,but therein lies a tale.
Two elder sisters left in charge of a helpless child when the mother was taking an afternoon nap,is a recipe for disaster(i mean disaster for the poor child).My sisters had this game called "third class compartment".With the father being in the railways,we spent many hours on railway platforms(my fathers idea of being on time was to arrive at least an hour ahead of schedule) soaking in the sights and sounds and smells of the grand central.In the process we watched with great interest the scramble for seats in the unreserved third class compartment(it doesn't exist anymore).My sisters came home to the settee at home and converted this into the unreserved compartment,hence the name of the game.
My elder sister has a great imagination and everything has to look as real as possible,so jostling for space in a compartment can only be replicated if one has baggage to store.They would look around for baggage and they would find me.The elder sister would then take one of our mothers sarees,make a little sack out of it,dump me in and swing me across her shoulder.I had become baggage.The other sister would run across the room(their substitute for railway platform) and jump onto the settee,and with one big shove my elder sis and her baggage would have to struggle for balance.The settee creaked and shuddered while they threw abuses at each other(imitation of everything they heard while on the railway platform).They would settle down after much grumbling with poor me squashed into the back of the settee.They would them imagine and swing to imaginary movement of trains and when they had gotten tired of all this,the baggage would be dumped on the ground and I would have returned to being an useless child until the next game.
My second sister is a hairdresser who never made it (she had these aspirations as long as i was a willing Guinea pig.On afternoons when the railways game had been don't to death,they would convert the settee into a beauty shop (their name for it).I would be dumped on the chair,towel wrapped around me like a bib and they would get to work.They started by teasing my hair (their term for it)so a comb would run half way through the hair and they would tangle up all my baby curls to make me look like a birds best gone horribly wrong.The our mothers red max factor lipstick would come out and my mouth would turn into a big red gash.The lipstick would them be rubbed into my cheeks as rouge .Not satisfied,they would take an eye pencil and draw dark eyebrows and darken my eyes.I dare not make a sound (mother was taking a nap and I was at the mercy of the two).When all was done they would flourish a looking glass with great style in front of me and I had to smile and scrape the ground in eternal gratefulness for the masterpiece they had created.The before our mother woke up my elder sister(in this game is is assistant) would wash my face clean ,wipe it dry and look like angles before the poor mother got wise to any of the happenings of the afternoon
How could I possibly not take this little piece of history to my own flat.Its filled with a hundred memories and no new sofa however stylish would ever replace it.
Friday, May 25, 2007
Ashes to ashes,dust to dust
"My heart aches and a drowsy numbness pains my sense"Couldn't have been more appropriate for my mood.Shes dead now two days and I am not sure what I feel.We lost touch a few years ago but the memories of a friend are good.Lots of laughter,her wide smile,her backward slant writing and the many letters exchanges during college holidays all come back to haunt.
I remember we met up again some years ago and marvelled at how we had grown sideways.We talked of old time ,had a cup of tea and parted ways.She on her kinetic Honda,me pillion,wind blowing through our hair as we shouted out our conversation.
I don't know what I feel,shock,emptiness,nothing.....I cannot say,all I know is that one more person on my friend list has turned to dust and I have nothing to say.
I remember we met up again some years ago and marvelled at how we had grown sideways.We talked of old time ,had a cup of tea and parted ways.She on her kinetic Honda,me pillion,wind blowing through our hair as we shouted out our conversation.
I don't know what I feel,shock,emptiness,nothing.....I cannot say,all I know is that one more person on my friend list has turned to dust and I have nothing to say.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
