Discrimination

Ever come up against prejudice or discrimination.I have but it seems so trivial that I never really give it much thought but really the underlying principals are the same.How does one lifestyle become less acceptable than another,and why does one always have to compromise for the other.
Lets see now,the biggest discriminators in life are probably food,religion and gender and not necessarily in that order.
Lets start with food.The broad category of lifestyles would be the vegetarian vs the non vegetarian,the others are usually folks who wont eat pork like the Jews and Muslims or the so called vegetarians who eat fish for some reason.But take any hard core vegetarian and one will find that they are quiet intolerant of the non vegetarians.From turning up their noses at the so called smells (please some of us are sick at the smell of rajma or dhal too)to their inability to eat at the same table and the curious lengths they take to avoid contamination,one would begin to think that all meat eaters are walking weapons of mass destruction.I am yet to fathom why its always this group whose sensibility's have to be considered.Wait a second,I don't like being made to feel like an untouchable just because I have a refined and adventurous appetite for food.After all one mans food maybe another ones poison but why cant we just learn to live with our differences.
Religion,again the great divider.Unfortunately most often than not our value systems are based on our religion,our food preferences stem from our religion so whether its kosher or halal,or no garlic onions or anything that once walked or flew the earth,it all comes from our religion.Then there is the big difference of one god verses many gods.For some of us there is only one point of contact in heaven but for others very much like our political system there are gods with different portfolios.I sometimes think this is a good situation because there is safety in numbers and chances are that very much like humans the gods may have their own power struggles and therein lies the divide and rule situation(chances are that the more one panders to one god then the others may also do one favours,good system all around)Unfortunately despite my simple explanation of the situation both of the above can lead to fear,hatred,intolerance and violence which really defeats the purpose of why they exist in the first place.
Gender,and I have plenty to say on this count being a victim of the gender bias many times over.First lesson to learn as a woman,play dumb and act stupid,chances are that one will get ahead.Learn to work within set standards,which really means smile and do things around the house even if you detest it.Of course some like me refuse to do so and have had to bear the consequences of such acts but better to live a life on ones terms then to simply exist at the pleasure of others.I find the gender bias very much in existence in the home environment.There is I discovered different laws for the daughter in law as opposed to the son in law.The sils as we call them are a privileged lot.They can get away with most things.The dil on the other hand has to be of a certain kind,she needs to get along with everyone or she is termed a not nice girl,she needs to hang around the kitchen asking if she can help.God forbid she does no such thing,the whole world and his uncle will condemn her.I see this happening ever so often and the strange thing is that we don't question it.Years of socialization had immunised us to this abuse and we let it pass.Unfortunately it happens even in this current generation and I wonder how or when we will see the tide change.
Discrimination in its most subtle form is hard to pin down,it just leaves you with this uncomfortable feeling that all is not well.Any debate on the subject will turn into emotional drama so the best course of action is really inaction or as I discovered non violent non co operation.
I watch everyday and I learn many things over the course of my life.I have seen lives destroyed and people compromised in the name of honour and dignity but remember discrimination is never about honour or dignity it undermines the very fabric of ones being and the best way to win is to fight and the fight is not easy nor is the end clear but one must go on

December

December is here and for me its a winding down of the year.A year that has been both traumatic as well as blessed.It was a year that was to be a turning point of my life.It changed many things on many fronts but looking back on Dec last,it brings back memories of Decembers of many years.For me December is a month of Christmas carols and Christmas trees,of holidays and friends of parties and happiness.In all the stress's of life I made December special,despite the anxiety that lurked at the back of my mind.Last year I knew that my father was ill but I went ahead with my annual Christmas party which I have made a tradition in my home.My Christmas tree went up on a song and a prayer.My visit to my parents on Christmas day was special because for me it was a time for family,a family that I knew would soon have to diminish but to be enjoyed for whatever time it existed.
Today the second of the month I pulled out the Christmas carol CD and it plays in the background as I write.There is no celebration this year because I don't have the spirit to indulge in a party in the backdrop of so much tragedy,personal and in the world.But the spirit of Christmas is of forgiveness,of thanksgiving to a god who has protected us and guided us in the past year and for me it will be a time of quiet reflection,of prayer and dedication to a life which I hope has been well lived so far and which I again hope had added some value to lives other than mine.Its a year of looking back on a change that brought about a new beginning for me,a new career choice which I am enjoying and which could have only happened when one door or chapter in life closes and another begins.For me December will always be a month of joy amidst sadness,an ending of one year with a hope of a new one and in the meanwhile I sing my favourite carols and revel in the legends and stories of Christmas very much like little Tim or Scrooge in The Christmas carol.

terror and sub culture

I am uneasy,I am unhappy,its all the aftermath of whats happened in Bombay.Its happened many times before in many countries and in our own,and there is outrage and there is anger but then life goes on.We believe it wont happen to us and we couldn't care too much,after all its always a crowded market or a minority group that's being killed or raped or terrorised and we don't care and neither does the government.
Cut to Bombay and the taj and the oberoi under attack.The Victoria terminus was also under attack but strangely that took a back seat,after all do the crowds on the suburban trains make for good sound bytes.Look at the two big hotels,the rich and famous come there,its the swish set that hob nobs there.They don't vote but they critise the government,we don't care for them but we love to know what they are up to.Its the difference between wall street and main street.So when wall street screws up,they are bailed out but when the main street suffers,well....the less said the better.We have never had as many heads rolling or as many resignations as when the tragedy happened in Bombay.Its happened so many times before but didn't anyone take moral responsibility,why does this happen only when the rich and famous are affected?.Don't the other lives matter.Lets face it we don't have a system in place but then again who does.Terrorism by its very definition is all about planning,its plain cold blooded murder and we are dealing with desperate and misguided people,but that does not mean we react only when one section of the public is affected.That is not acceptable.I feel sorry for the staff at those hotels,their training does not equip them for such situations and they job demands that they look after the guests first before themselves so they do just that and get killed in the bargain.
I wish the government had asked for international help when we got the first signs of terrorism in out country,its just not fair to wait for the taj and the oberoi to be bombed for them to rush in to action.But them again I would rather have a Manmohan singh at the top than an advani who is almost as bad as the terrorist themselves.Maybe as a token of what they feel,some of the dadas should give up their security for people like us,after all a few less politicians can only make the world a better place.

Family bathrooms

Isn't it surprising that a bathroom can become a bone of contention among people?.Bathroom habits really define a person.My mornings start with a good brushing of teeth and washing of face and then a cup of tea,but to a large part of my family its the other way around.A cup of tea to wake them up fully and then brushing teeth and washing face.I cant deal with it but I learn to ignore it and stay far away from them in the mornings.Some members of the family walk around with the toothbrush and foam in their mouth with newspaper in hand.It makes me want to puke so I stay in bed with eyes shut tight.There are still others who even have a theory about all this.Something to go with morning breadth having good bacteria.Oh give me a break or better still give me the toothbrush.But funnily enough with all the fuss about having to brush teeth first thing in the morning,the toothbrush is the one thing i always forget when packing to go any place.Then in the morning I beg,borrow or steal(the option of buying one doesn't arise as shops don't always open early in the morning) and if nothing works,I keep my mouth shut all day (big deal for someone like me).The other thing about bathrooms is the amount of time my family members spend in there.My mother takes a good 45 minutes to have a bath and I have to constantly check if she is alive(old people tend to fall in bathrooms,hence the panic).The husband will combine lots of things with a bath....read newspaper,use potty,shave,shampoo hair and whatever else,so another 30 minutes gone.My nephews used the bathroom as an escape hatch from mothers or older relatives who were always finding jobs for them to do.Nowadays if my nephew promises to arrive at my house but decides to have a bath before he does,I can safely assume that the boy will not surface for at least an hour or two.The younger of the nephews can live in the bathroom all day.We have three bathrooms at home(we insisted on this when looking for a flat) and god forbid a day arrives when all are in use by mother,husband and nephew and poor me should need to use one....I may as well go to the neighbours house or learn extreme bladder control.....but I hope the day never comes

freedom

Freedom...it means so many things to different people but from the time i can remember freedom meant a great deal to me.When i was a baby it meant the freedom to cry despite my fathers wrath,as a teenager it was the freedom to dress the way I wanted and to do the things i wanted to do.As a young adult I rebelled at the thought of being just someones wife or mother.For me life was all about living on ones terms so I waited till I was ready to settle down with someone who appreciated what freedom meant to me.Its not always easy to be free,life is all about compromises but freedom is not so simple either.With freedom comes responsibility,with it comes maturity.Freedom takes into consideration other people,the environment and many other things,but the essential to freedom is to understand its complexity and to appreciate its greatness.All my working life I reveled in freedom,I demanded it and its not easy so at one point when freedom can harm ones objectives(somepeople are insecure and free people are difficult to deal with) one needs to decide how important freedom is.It can be a simple thing like having free time for life outside the office,it is freedom to explore the many facets of ones personality and when one wants this more than anything else one takes decisions,hard decisions,decisions that most people don't understand,decisions that one clutches to ones heart with the same happiness as one did when freedom became important.Today I appreciate that freedom has made me a better person,more balanced and content with what i do with my time.Freedom has given me the courage to follow my dreams and live life on my terms.Freedom has taught me the difference between having to do something and needing to do it.It has taught me that life is full of ups and downs but freedom gets you to your goal a little bruised but not broken.

blogging or facebook

Time was when blogging was the latest kid on the block among my friends so the excitement of writing everyday was a big boost to our day.Two years on sometime in the middle,face book took over our lives.Suddenly everyone was there doing some of the most inane quizzes which didn't add an ounce to our lives,just mindless stuff we did because everyone else seemed to be doing it.Then face book took on a new dimension.We used it as a tool to be in touch,and it is a good tool,today I am in touch with so many friends of years gone by which wouldn't have been possible if we hadn't all had one common meeting ground.Then they introduced chat and for a chatterbox like me that was the best thing that happened.
well what does all this say about some of us.Do we need constant excitement and stimulation or is it just that our attention spans are keeping pace with that of the now generation.Today some 20 somethings are amazed that the 40 somethings are discussing face book,which they always imagined was a property of their generation(not surprising considering that the founder is probably old enough to be our grandson or something to that effect).And now I go back to my pet blogs to find that a lot of us have simply stoped writing.I know what my excuse is...well I am using my writing skills to earn a living which doesn't leave much time for blogging but perhaps the economic downturn has left all of us insecure of our jobs and insecurity is hardly the breeding ground for creativity.Well the long and short of it is that I have decided to make a conscious effort to write and be inspired on a daily basis and I hope to keep that promise to myself.

Rain and the city

The monsoons have set in long before it was anticipated and after years we don't have to worry about water.Some years ago all we did was obsess about water and when out next bath could be taken.Thankfully the rain gods have been kind to our city.
Two years ago my car drowned in the downpour.I watched helplessly as the water rose and the car went under.Stranded on the first floor I prayed hard that the rain should stop.My anxiety heightened by two old parents not in the best of health and a water logged locality our of which there was no escape route.I ran through many situations in my head,my blood pressure rising at the same rate as the water.Thankfully the good lord above answered my prayers and the parents didn't have an emergency and the car was insured and everything fell in place but the anxiety haunts me till date.
Today two years later the rain lashes down on my road,the same car stands on the road and i look out at regular intervals to ensure that its safe.This time around the heightened anxiety is missing as one parent is no more and the other is under my nose and my road doesn't get as water logged as before.But we are all human and worry and anxiety are part of our lives.I tried to enjoy the rain and the darkness.I took the car out ,drove through blinding rain until i was stop ed by a large tree that had fallen across the road and sent me back.It reminded me of all my roots.The tree has been around from my days at college,giving us shade while waiting for a bus,giving us beauty on an otherwise stark road.The tree had stood the test of time but not this time and one more memory of a city of yesteryear's is ripped out of my memories.I did enjoy the rain a little,I did enjoy the drive and the the dark skies but somewhere the anxiety lingers,of times gone by of times to come and I wonder....will I ever rest peacefully....perhaps that happens only six feet under.

The one man at the gym

Whats it like to be the only man in an all woman's gym?.Tricky to say the least especially when there are woman of all ages and sizes not to mention the fully covered ultra conservative ones.Even the slightest sign of inappropriate behavior can be the mans downfall.But that's what is so amazing about this chap.Young,presentable with a well toned body he doesn't let you feel hes around.But he is and the one chap who will correct you and make the exercise chart.He knows all our measurements but doesn't make one feel uncomfortable.In fact he is so popular that when he went missing for two months(to set up another gym) we all missed him.He came back a few days ago and was greeted with great affection.We rib his about his girlfriends,we chat with him about the machines and we wish him well when he has good assignments.
I know he a rare type.Most young men in his position would have been strutting their stuff around the young woman at least but this chap deals with everyone on an even keel and everyday I marvel at his attitude because its rare.All his staff look happier when hes around but there is no let up in displine Yesterday when a client wanted someone to help her with the exercises,a trainee was assigned and the man stood close by to watch and correct her if necessary.He didn't jump in and do it himself.Obviously leadership skills are part of what makes him who he is.Not that hes perfect,sometime he makes the odd interpersonal faux pas but like all human beings he does have his ups and downs
I am not sure we notice him as the only man around,over the months we have all gotten so comfortable with him that we talk to him like one of the girls.Well hats of to a decent chap who knows how to conduct himself in such an environment.

when i wast around

Sometime the mind goes back to many years ago and people and places crop up suddenly.It happened by chance.My mother and I were in a discussion about visiting some friends and family.Me proposing the idea and my mother resisting with all her might(she hates going out).
It got me thinking and throwing my mind back a few years(a good number of years actually).I remember a line of friends who lived on spur tank road and Harrington road.I remember visiting friends with my mother in Kilpauk.Most of my memories are of holding my mothers hand and tagging alone by bus or walking around to visit.It was a regular occurrence and not something she disliked.With my father away at work and the two older kids in school,my mother and I started our visits.I think there was a timetable to the visits.In most houses there were no children my age so I was always well fed by the friends(that was the highlight of my visits)and allowed to sit and listen to them chatter away.I never understood half of what they said but they all lived in quaint houses with some garden or trees so i was allowed to climb trees or play by myself for hours until it was time to go back home.I remember on house where I was always served tea if in bright yellow cup and saucer.I felt very grown up and smart drinking from that cup.Now i remember that the only reason she allowed me to drink from it was that it was plastic and my baby hands couldn't do much harm.
I remember the great lunches at my aunts place and the other friend who was a great source of amusement for my mother and her other friends because she gave her kids bread for breakfast.I can figure out why this was such a source of mirth but in those days I believe serving bread was a sign of a lazy mother.
Why did a woman who did so much visiting now dislike the idea of stepping out of the house.I tried to put a fix on it and it probably started around the time that my father retired.Suddenly he was always there and there was no time to visit.Funnily enough all the men of those household retired around the same time and suddenly the woman were not visiting.That was it,no more visits and then we all lost touch.Yesterday when I reminded my mother about these people I discovered that they had all been neighbours at some time or the other when my parents first came to madras and then they became friends.I realised that I my memories started only from the time I was born and that some ten or twelve years before that my parents had a life I know nothing about.They stayed in all kinds of places around the city and sometimes the suburbs,my sisters went to different schools until they joined the one I went to.There was a life I want to discover but no one wants to talk about it.Not my sisters nor my mother so I guess I will have to keep asking questions.Will I also stop visiting,will I also become the hermit that my mother has become.Scary thought but perhaps in the fullness of time I shall go the way of my mother....I wonder.

Lazy and happy

Once again the same question..."don't you get bored being at home after working so long".I am not sure why i am asked this question time and again.Considering i took the decision of sound body and mind and after having been in the rat race for 20 odd years I wonder why everyone who knows me is so surprised at my answer.I am enjoying myself in years.The last time i felt so relaxed was when i left school and had 6 months to myself before college started.Nowadays kids would have used that time to learn a new course,get a prat time job,rush around from one activity to another.But we lived in a time when i could do nothing and get away with it.I read,ate,played(as in playing on the road...at 16 in those days that was quiet acceptable) and had a good relaxed time.I think I deserve to rediscover that time and if its suits me fine why does everyone look so shocked.
Let see now,do I really enjoy myself.Yes and no.Sometimes i am overcome with guilt for not earning my living anymore,guilty for having to ask the husband for money all the time(what i made i invested and have no intention of touching for the moment).Sometimes I feel unproductive in the corporate sense of the word.But most of the time I am happy to be doing the odd jobs at home to catch up on reading,to go to the gym to not have to drive in maddening traffic and still keep appointments in time.I am happy to have been there done that and I am happy to know that I can split my life into eras.I enjoyed every segment thus far and have made my own decisions so its easier to leave life behind and live forward.
I have to keep coming back to this topic as the questions come up very often .Probably the only thing I miss is that stories and things don't crop up with the same regularity as they did before because my outings are few and far between but for the moment I am not complaining

Mummys day out

My mother and many woman of her time,lived lives that were totally dependent on first their parents,then their husbands and finally their children.The were provided for by and large and should a husband not provide,then they had made a bad marriage and the parents or their fate was the cause,if it were a good marriage and good fate then the husband would have provided all.
All their lives were spent that way,they are great mothers,perfect wives but where they happy or did they waste the one life they had in the services of duty and family.I am never sure how to answer that question especially when marriages lasted 60 and more years.They had to be doing something right.
Now my mother for instance will always lament her fate at being married to a man who was not quiet what she imagined a husband to be(some truth no doubt).The fact however remains that my father took on all the financial responsibilities and my mother took care of running the house and bringing up children.Some time later when she was in her 50s,my mother like most women of her generation she decided to give up going out of the house for anything.She got used to being house bound and watching tv and yelling at my father for getting under her feet all the time and interfering(that's what men do when they retire and have no office to go to and no people to yell at)Over the years getting my mother to step out of the front door was a task that would put every skill of strategist to good use.If anyone managed to get her out of the house,even to visit her daughters,it was considered a big victory and the person concerned would well qualify for a noble price in blackmail.Which is precisely what works with her.
Now being left in the charge of a 76 year old mother (who under all that dependence can be as stubborn as a mule)I have become adept in the art of emotional blackmail.So today after having thought through the night on a game plan,I decided to go ahead.Of course no surprised are allowed so she was told that the bank needed to see her in person(no such requirement exists).She was warned of dire consequences(I did tell her her bank account would be frozen and all her money given away...which she believed)I was ready to take the plunge.Now anyone reading this might think that i am a nasty daughter who is harassing a senior citizen.Far from it.
Imagine my despair when the papers reported that bank employees were on strike.Well having hidden the papers from her I proceeded to get ready and finally after much wasting of time and constant grumbling,she was out of the front door and to the bank.Well you can imagine,not a soul stir ed in the bank and me,I was most surprised."Oh it looks like a strike doesn't it" I said with the innocence of a 5 year old(assuming they are innocent nowadays).Well "we just have to go back I guess" says she.Was I going to allow that?.Of course not.Opportunities come only once and now that the mother was out in the open I was going to cash in big time."we shall visit some family friends" I say.Huge protest (which are promptly ignored) and long face and sulk sulk.Well there are some advantages of being the driver so i drive to the friends house (all the time telling her that its bad manners to talk to people only when you need them....she refuses to accept that she does any such thing)and escape on the pretext of having to run errands.Half an hour later I am back to fetch her and she seems happy enough to have gossiped and had a good cup of tea(Oh they managed to make good tea says she....huge compliment coming from her and to be taken as...oh the outing wasn't too bad).So we manage to be back home in time for her tv serial (where everyone cries because they have bad marriages and bad fate),she get back into her glad rags and yours truly is tired by the sheer enormity of what she has accomplished.Friday being another day,we shall get her out again because the bank work is not over,but the sly mother has figured out that her equally sly daughter may not have been speaking the whole truth when she swore blind that the bank wanted her there in person.So for now she has promised to sigh cheque and reduce me back to my status of errand boy to a very lovable by adamant mother.

Oh Monday

Mondays,it seems commonplace to hate this particular day of the week.For most people the beginning of the week spells another six days of having to run and rush through the day in a desperate attempt to reach targets,meet deadlines and meet the weekend(which unfortunately cannot be rushed).I was one of the breed though for many years I looked forward to Mondays because i enjoyed what i did.Many years on when I choose to give up a full time job (around the time that Mondays became less and less a day to look forward to)I basked in the joy of being able to forget the days of the week.One didn't need to know because there are no deadlines to keep and one can do what one wants irrespective of the day of the week.
But all of a sudden,I woke up one morning,earlier than usual because this "oh its a Monday" feeling hit me.Why I wonder,what made it happen.I am still trying to figure it out but haven't found out as yet.Is it because my brain started sending me messages that its time to get to some paying work.Is my unconscious mind dying of guilt because I am not bothering about finances or is it just that the amount in the bank balance looks so small( even my mother who has never held a job has more money than me) or was it the sudden and.....guess what,i cant even remember the reason but all it takes it a friends shoulder to cry on and I am feeling better already.Finally it all boils down to getting a grip on ones self and making an effort.Getting hold of a project to work on and that's the key

Unrecognizable thats who i am....

You could have known me for twenty years of your life but if you haven't seen me in six months,chances are that you will walk right past and not acknowledge my presence.That's because you wont have recognised me.Now lets get this right,its nothing to do with height weight and all that other stuff.Its just that over the years for some strange reason I look different almost everyday.I wasn't aware of it until a professor insisted that I sit in the same place in class ever day.He swore that he had to search for me as the look changed every day.Not surprising then that I am constantly walking up to old schoolmates and college mates and having to introduce myself and hear them gasp in surprise at the change.I am convinced that its all about the rest of the world having bad recognition skills.
Imagine my surprise then this morning as I stood waiting for the butcher to cut the chicken for me.A couple walked into the shop and I knew instantly that the woman had been with me in school or had she worked with me.A quick scramble through my brain files and i knew that she was a classmates sister from school.Should I confirm it?.Or should I just go by after all she had known me for sixteen odd years(years when we moved from being children to teenagers to young adults...where the most change happened).I decided to let it pass and was just about to leave when she smiled and we both started to say something....well wonders never cease.She remembered me and we exchanged notes of fellow school friends.It left me convinced that this was all about recognition skills or that the brains ability for long term memory is far greater than short term ones.Shared experiences,time spent it all matters.Of course even in the case of girls who didn't recognise me,the fact remained that when we did get over the initial shock,life was back to normal.So here I am all ready to go out again this evening and chances are that there will be people who know me but wont recognise me.One things for sure,I am safe from being identified from any police line up and that's for sure....like they say there is always a silver lining.

The possibilities

Sometimes its just about making the effort.It has been days of thinking of doing things but not getting down to it,especially the jobs one doesn't want to do,like dealing with the government and such.
So this week,having put things off long enough I went ahead and attacked.First stop was to get the ration card done,surprise surprise....the crowds were less and the work got done in under half hour,next stop,nationalised bank....no progress but at lest some follow up done and to discover that the financial situation is not as bad as I imagined it to be.Reassured,I attack spending.Now why does one need to spend tons of money in supermarkets buying basic necessities when its all available at the public distribution system.Again the crowds are non existent(lesson to be learnt,go in the middle of the month) and I get dhal,wheat,sugar and tea,what more can i ask for.The bill is under a hundred bucks and if that's not fair price then I wonder what it is.Eco friendly too,I have to take my own bags so all the cloth bags are out and my months expenditure on food has been cut down real fast and with no compromise on quality.
Meat and fish is also getting better,avoiding the super markets is such a good idea.The quality of food is better,our cooking methods have bettered (thanks to the mother officially taking over the kitchen) and we are feeling a lot better health wise.The rains have added another positive.The car doesn't have to be taken out so much,its beautiful to walk on the roads and get the much needed exercise,to chat with the shopkeepers,to check out the gardens and to watch all my plants bask in the lovely rain....oh its so good to be able to stop and smell the roses.

My days are numbered

The aversion to numbers or anything faintly numerical,started when I was around six.My father who had a pretty decent grip on numbers,had to deal first with the disappointment of having to deal with three daughters(the common belief being that boys were more numerically inclined)and to add to that he discovers that the first two could barely count and were nowhere close to being numbers driven.In one last ditch attempt he decided to start me young and math classes began the moment I entered school.He tried when I started to talk but didn't succeed.Well being my fathers and mothers daughter,I was a combination of stubborn determination and dormant rebellion so if he thought he was going to teach me maths,it had better be my way(one plus one equals two would mean putting two chocolates to do the addition or nothing else).Well every time he sat down to teach,the battle started.He was a man of little patience who simply couldn't understand how any child with even the basic brain could be so difficult when it came to simple arithmetic.Well the long and short of it is that I developed an eternal hatred towards anything numerical.
Imagine my surprise and my parents shock when I ended up with a distinction in statistics in college.My mother was convinced that the examiner was drunk when he corrected my papers and my father secretly had that "I told you she had some brains" look on his face.As I started working and generally getting some experience of life the truth dawned that perhaps I should have fallen in line early in life and realised that everything finally comes down to numbers.So from sales targets,to income tax,to simple everyday accounts,there was no getting away from it.The tragedy was that even something I love like drawing,painting and cooking needed some quantitative ability to get places.So I stopped dreaming of being a painter and instead decided to cook everything that didn't need precision measurements.So baking was simply out of the question.
Years later and now that I have time on my hands,I have decided to bury the ghost of my numerical aversion so the baking is first on my list.It started with chocolate fudge...all measurements in place and the dish is an instant hit with all my friends.Well well,the first hurdle has been overcome.So my next step was chocolate brownie.This required the next level of measurements so I made my attempt.Except that the oven was a bit too hot,the brownies came out a nice sticky brown exactly the way they are meant to be.So my confidence sufficiently boosted I am well on my way to the next level of testing.Its going to be bread next and if I get that right well perhaps my father can be proved right.....there is a bit if brains just waiting to be used.I may have tackled the office accounts and targets and other mundane ever day corporate stuff(that's only meant to survive and impress the boss) but to be able to master a passion long lying dormant because I believed I couldn't master numbers.....well that's a new high and now its all coming together,the ingredients are all ready and I am ready to arrive hot off the oven.

old order changes

We started school learning to write.I remember many note books with pink lines as borders with three blue lines in between and we had to write in a way that all the starting letters touched the pink lines and the others stayed within the blue lines.End result....lovely handwriting.This was also repeated for Tamil class as well so much so that my Tamil handwriting is picture perfect.
When it came to reading,we had regular reading classes both in English and Tamil.While English was a good class,Tamil was sheer humiliation(worse when one has an elder sister in the same school who is fluent in any language taught and is constantly being held up as an example).The sheer anxiety of those Tamil reading class makes me wonder how I survived all those school years staying sane.Unfortunately Tamil turned to french in college and if one didn't have the advantage of the Alliance francais then well,it couldn't have gotten much worse.
The point of all this is that years later when the ink pen gave way to the ball point,to the felt tip to the key board....well hand writings went for a toss.Imagine my surprise when the bank manager claims that my signatures don't match the original(signed some twenty years ago).Its shameful because my dad was 87 when the manager claimed his signature didnt match the original.To be in the same position some 40 years earlier is cause for concern.Now as to reading,well that's gone by the wayside to.When was the last time I read aloud....cant remember.Not allowed to sing aloud even in the car when travelling with husband as the man objects loudly(one would think that if any support was forthcoming it should be from family,whatever happened to the better of for worse promise?).
So I am wondering if i should start to write letters to friends and family(used to do this earlier only to realise that most of them never got posted coz lazy me couldn't dream of walking up to the Post office)but then again why when i can call.So this is probably an obituary to the written word and to public speaking.....sigh....once again I am faced with the fact that my world has changed forever.....on the bright side....I am still standing

Goodbye sunshine hello thunder

Funny how when one is nice to people,one gets taken for a ride or at best ignored.Get nasty and they take notice,end result however is that if one is dealing with inefficient people then the matter stays unresolved.
For starters I worked for a company that had no clue to accounting so they generally dumped money into my account and expected me to run an office....so poor me looks rather rich on paper(the truth being far different).Now if one is rich and middle class and salaried(difficult to be all the same at once as they are all different states of being but yours truly always manages to do the impossible) and cant manage to explain to nosy auditors how I came about being allegedly rich.One then goes to ones bank.Now here is a bank that spends millions on advertising to say how great they are etc etc so poor me despite having been in advertising so long(helps you come to terms with the fact that all advertising is rubbish and untrue)actually went to them for help.Being polite by nature I asked them for information and waited patiently since i was told that the data will be available in two days.When two days became four,I asked them firmly why the data wasn't available.Went four days became ten,I blew a fuse.Strange,it fell of deaf ears,they continued to mouth the same excuses and despite my rants,they are unable to give me the information.This bank is famous for this and while I find that being polite and nasty gets the same results....well I may as well feel good and let of steam at them.This is a bank,but I find that nasty behaviour works in most places.Talk of a crying child getting more attention.My new motto in life is to shout,rant,be nasty and say goodbye to my nice self.It was nice being you but the world has changed and I am adapting to a changing world.

under attack

To be part of a minority is not a very happy state but not one that is top of mind either.Personal attack on the other hand is something else.It makes one feel vulnerable and introspective.Was it me,was it something I said and one tends to keep thinking back.Its funny that as human beings we focus more on the negatives(unless one is an out and out positive person).
Recently some of us commented on a story that was doing the rounds.Sordid as it was,we decided to look at the funny side.It didn't work....suddenly the mail box was full of self righteous,sanctimonious remarks from women who live far away and who in my opinion had lost their sense of humour (assuming they had one in the first place).The outcome was that I ended up feeling vulnerable and sad.It took two other women to come up with something funny to put my mind at rest but the outcome was strange.Most of the group thought that the funny side was misplaced.Did they expect us to be sad for the whole world?.But then again have we become so immune to disaster and sordid details that we no longer care?....I am still not sure.

poof...zap the little devils

Hmm...let see,I don't like the little men and women who dot the income tax office.Frankly I don't like auditors either though mine is a nice smart tam bram who knows his stuff but the point being that they make my otherwise peaceful life a bit of a mess.I mean I like making money,I slogged for the better part of my life and ended up making some serious money close to retirement when the rest of the 20 something are raking it in at the beginnings of their work life.So why cant they just let me enjoy it,let me indulge a bit and well just let me save for a rainy day.No but you see that's the tragedy,now to begin with I hate keeping records.There was this lovely boy in office who was so pucca he kept tabs on all my finances and I was fine but don't you know how difficult it is to hang on to chaps like that.
Tell me why would someone be interested in my financial history?After all I am a poor church mouse who was paid a bit and like a good middle woman decided that the little money saved was fine ....but no they actually want to know why i paid who and what....give me a break ...am i supposed to remember all that...the tragedy is that they think its income when its all been expenditure....how many salaried people get extra income.Honestly how does one make them understand.So now I am actually expected to keep track of all the money I spend and account for it at a time when i am sponging off the husband.They even take the pleasure out of sponging...I need something strong to zap these little devils out of the system and in the mean while I ve decided I don't like money at all,It gives me a headache .The only solution then is to turn dumb and become a helpless housewife who has to run to the husband for every decision.Maybe i shall try it,why not ....talk of recreating oneself.Ha sounds like a plan....hmm I am liking it.

Boys,men and mallu men

This week the focus is on my community(i have had an overdose of them hence)By and large I don't like mallu men(the few exceptions are my small group of mallu men who remain friends and whose friendships I cherish,but all of them without exception have been living out of Kerala all their lives).What bugs me most about them is their condescending attitude to woman(cant really blame them as the average woman in Kerala is a doormat).Its probably their upbringing and the constant reinforcement of societal values that gives them an upper hand.Unfortunately its the middle aged ones that are the most dangerous.For starters they leer,pass uncalled for comments and can get intrusive in a way that one wants to break those ever present coconuts over their heads in the hope that whatever sense may be hidden in the recesses of their otherwise dead brains,can be brought out.Sadly its also the woman in kerala who are part to blame for these men.Boys are a grand obsession in this state(maybe so in other places as well).Girls are taught very often that despite being educated and articulate and working,their primary responsibility in life to be be someones wife or mother.Its a tragedy that if one dares to do otherwise there is instant talk of the girls loose morals,bad parenting or just economy and the click click of many tongues can make one feel that this is the worst possible situation to be in.Small wonder then that the men quiet literally believe that they are gods gift to womankind.Strangely this gives them license to behave as they please,to treat woman as sex objects and to ridicule and turn violent should a brave woman stand up to their advances.God forbid one is in an unfortunate situation of being saddled with all men in a train compartment.After having striped one naked with their eyes(rest assured its as bad as being physically assaulted)they will them continue to make snide remarks and if all this fails,then they will inch their way into your personal space.If they are are down by a few drinks(often the case as they always drink bottoms up) then be sure to have pepper spray handy or a good sharp heeled shoe or even the ever present umbrella.
Once again it comes back to socialization,if men of the same community can be nice and generous and respecting of women when they have nothing to do with their native land,one cant but imagine that it has a lot to do with Kerala society in general.When will these mothers make sure their kids learn to cook and clear up after a meal.Would it be so difficult for them to learn that sisters are equals in life and not inferior beings(then they tend to treat their wives and other women differently)well that will be the day....in the meanwhile the women continue to believe that their lot in life is to wait for crumbs off the mans table....Unfortunately while writing this I realised that i also know a lot of mallu men (who despite cross cultural exposure) continue to remain chauvinistic and macho and can be a pain in the wrong place.My advice....please steer clear of this breed(i have managed to do so).So I end with a prayer that the good Lord give the mallu man a shock to his system very soon and in the course of evolution,please god can you re engineer their brains and that of their mothers also so that the next generation will be better....?

Disclaimer:To all the nice mallu men(and I mean the ones that are my friends) who read this...my apologies,sometimes guys you are the minority sadly