childhood in parumala

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

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

Bumblimas and us

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

learning to ride

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

Memories

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

God men and they tribe

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

Fashion and me

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

The fridge

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

Best wishes and forwards

Its almost a month since i put finger to keyboard and so much has happened.A year ended,a new years day came and went,the house was full of visitors and is now silent,and the sms messages are over for a while,which really brings me to what this is all bout.
From the 24th of December to around after boxing day,the sms messages come fast and furious as they do from the 31st of December to the 1st of January.I am not into this sending of mindless messages but politeness and good manners ensures that I thank one and all for kind wishes and so one.I used to send Christmas and new year cards all bought from UNICEF until I caught the email bug.The mobile phone however has not taken over my psyche.Let see now,most of the people who wish me on these days are ones I have no contact with at any other time of the year,in other words they are neither old friends or family,secondly,most of the messages are mindless forwards which have no meaning.Nothing is personalised.I remember writing our my friends names and signing personally with a fountain pen and it meant so much,but forwards are just that,very much like a carbon copy or a chain mail,does it mean anything?.Frankly no.But just once in a little while there does come a message that means something.To be sure the message was personalised and could not have been forwarded as it wasn't meant for anyone else.From the many messages that I received,this one stood out,it made an impact and it touched a cord.Isn't that what wishing is all about,isn't it about telling someone how much they mean to your or that you share their joy or their sorrow.I wrote back to this friend and she was clear the message came from the heart.Yes I agreed,almost all the others came from the keyboard and meant nothing,this one from the heart I will cherish and the sender is not even someone I know all that well,it says a lot about people don't you think?

out of control

Abnormal psychology was a subject we looked forward to.Reading our prescribed text most of the class assumed that we had one or more of the illnesses mentioned there.The lecturer herself was a difficult woman,but a brilliant teacher.We went through the whole semester studying mental illness its treatment and what or how to cope.The principle was clear,neurosis was a function of how fragile a persons mind was.Its a tipping point.It can easily happen to any of us and its scary.Then I went to counselling courses and sessions and the practise of the subject made me realise that the mind besides being complicated,can be made to surrender for better or for worse.Its not surprising that human behaviour is decided by our environment and our upbringing.The fact that a child's personality is formed in the first six years of its life is what is scary.

Today I watch a friend go to pieces,I see the symptoms and I feel for the person but what interests me more is how we behave in situations when someone is loosing his or her grip on the world and on their lives.We may seem like fair weather friends but is it because we cant cope,we don't know how to handle the situation or does it reflect on ourselves and who we are.We avoid situations that involve the person,we fail to make the phone calls that we made so often in better times and we fail to visit as often as we need to,but then again help cannot be extended unless the concerned person wants help or is willing to talk about it.It can only work when the concerned person decides to change and is willing to admit to the problem but all of us are in denial,we are caught up with our little follies,we want to be popular,liked by our friends and to be normal and the danger lies there.Today I see my friends,the one who sought help and had the courage to change,have pulled themselves out of danger,but the ones who refuse to accept that there is a problem continue to spiral out of control while we watch helplessly and hope to god that there may not be a situation we will have cause to regret.

loss and learning

Life is so complicated.One day is a fun evening with girl friends,the next day the same people get on ones nerves.Then the next day someone you love but never bothered to acknowledge dies and suddenly one wonders if one did say all the things that needed to be said.

There is something final about death but our customs can get in the way.Christians bury the dead and for us that alone ensures that the end is never really so final.The Hindus burn their dead and all that left is ashes thrown into some sacred river and gone forever.I always thought that was a crazy practise.I couldn't imagine setting fire to someone ones loves but today after visiting the cemetery(something I avoid doing) I realised that burying the dead makes it a lot more difficult to forget.For us a visit to the grave is like a visit to that person.On festivals we leave flowers,on holidays we go to talk to a stone because in our hearts and minds the person is there.Its never really over.For me my father is still very much in the neighbourhood and I cannot let go.Every visit is a reminder of the many memories some good some bad but most of all a deep sadness,an emotion that one doesn't need,but cannot rid oneself of.Was cremation a better option.I am not sure,would I regret that there is nothing lasting to go to.Would I feel better?.I think not because at the end of the day,a loss is still a loss and we are all victims of our faith and our upbringing so we cling to the little things in life and go back to the past and relive times and we will never forget.The fact of the matter is that parents are not people we forget or stop missing.Every act is a memory of things learnt of things we hated doing but were forced to and for which we are grateful because in their wisdom they taught us many things and now we realise the depth of what was taught.Maybe it wasn't something one learnt to appreciate at the time but it takes loss to understand somethings but I wish there was a better way

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