Never Too Late...

Konkan - at long last again!

2012-01-25T05:29:00.001-08:00

I have visited Konkan quite a few times since childhood.

Its been a much cherished holiday every single time I've been there.

The earliest memory is of visiting Ganapatipule with my parents. I was barely four at that time , and still recall my first rendezvous with the sea. Not very pleasant. I was scared by the incessant rumble of the waves - building into a crescendo and then crashing at our feet. I feared that if we didn't step away from the waters, we would glide all the way to the horizon and coming back would be quite some task!

I also recall mum n dad sitting in the sand, or walking bare feet by the beach.

And the pooja my dad did at the temple, sitting right in front of the ganesha idol. I remember watching the waves from the safe sanctuary of the temple - from a distance they looked quite harmless and even beautiful - small frothy rows rushing towards the shore, all neatly framed by the pillars of the temple verandah.

The beach as I remember was isolated - hardly anyone on the beach, miles and miles of soft fine sand, and tiny white crabs scampering sideways. The joy of finding shells of all shapes and sizes that the sea left behind, and watching the sun turn everything pink at sunset!

The next trip I remember was with my grandmom, aunt and cousins. I was the youngest of the lot, and had a great time with everyone fussing over me. But of the beach, I remember not much. Though I do remember collecting red seeds called goonja under the trees that lined the far end of the beach.

Another trip was with my classmates, soon after our 10th grade exams got over. It as a school excursion. We all travelled together in a big bus, and it was one joyride. Few places we visited were Lote-parshuram ( remember visiting a factory there - I think of Kokam products), then Guhagar, Dhabhol, Pawas, Chiplun. All these were in the proximity of the Dabhol area. The purpose of the trip was to meet the activists who were concerned about the environmental impact of the Enron power project coming there, and were working with the locals towards a possible solution.

In Pawas we visited the swarupananda math. Me and my dear friend V were in charge of the breakfasts I think, and we had good fun going about the arrangements. A few vivid memories are of early morning prayers (upasana) and moonlight walks by the beach - it was surreal! By this time, I had grown fond of the rumble of the sea, and found it rather soothing to ears - no longer an incessant noise.

Next trip was with my girlfriends, just before we started college. We all had booked with a homestay by Mr. Paladhe in Shrivardhan , all arrangements being made by my friend S. We travelled to Shrivardhan by state transport, and camped at Mr. Paldhe's place. It was a beautiful house, with a big front porch, ample trees and coconut and beetlenut plantations (wadi) in the back yard. Food was awesome, accommodation modest but comfortable and the beach hardly a couple of minutes away. We loved the waters, spent plenty of time on the beach, had great fun. We hired a tum-tum ( a six seater auto-rickshaw) and visited Harihareshwar.

When spend times like these with friends, you know you have friendships lasting for life.

Another encounter with Konkan came when I was studying Engineering. Again, it was an excursion. Being from the electrical engineering stream, we had a study trip planned to visit the Koyna nagar dam. The work for Koyna Hydroelectric project was under way. The ambitious project consists of 4 stages of power generation , with all generators located underground, in powerhouses excavated deep inside the mountains of the Western Ghats. I feel privileged to have been able to visit the project site! (thanks COEP!).

Well after the study of the trip, we had an over night halt , and visited Guhagar on our way back. This again is a much cherished trip, and brings back fond memories of the college years.

Over the years, I moved to the UK with my husband. I must say, I did not find much glory in the English seaside. They are rugged and breathtakingly beautiful ( only in summer!), but for me a beach is where you can walk into the sea, feel the soft sand between your toes, and plunge into the crashing waves - if you can't do this, well what else would you do on the beach then??!! I sorely missed the beautiful beautiful beaches of India and especially Konkan.

And, again after a long-11 year-last, we visited Konkan yet again. This time with my hubby C and our son K. And for the very first time, with my sis N and brother A too! Looking back, am really surprised that we 3 siblings never travelled together to Konkan before, though its one of our most favourite destinations and all three have visited it a couple of times before on our own!

Of course, mum and dad were with us too. The trip was a treat. We had fantastic stay arrangements in Diveagar with Mr. Limaye - again a home stay. They served wonderful home cooked veg food, had modest but nice,big and clean self-content rooms and very prompt and attentive service. Lil K just loved being on the beach and had a field day! Diveagar is quiet and quaint and still untouched by the mad tourist crowd. Its really a tiny village with small dim lit lanes and modest houses with big wadis. No hotels, only messes. Claim to fame is a ganesha temple, the idol being of gold and discovered in one of the natives' field. And of course the beach. Lovely silky-soft sand beach. We ate awesome food - sea food that is, visited the beach quite a few times, also did small trips along a picturesque route along the beach to Shrivardhan and Harihareshwar. We spotted dolphins leaping out of water as we gazed at the sea from the rocky shores of Harihareshwar. It was a very relaxing trip - far from the maddening crowd. we left Konkan refreshed and relaxed, with a promise to visit again soon!

There are still a lot of hidden gems of Konkan to visit - Kelshi, Hedavi, Nagaon, Alibaug, Murud Janjeera - and the whole Malvan region. Am already planning my next trip!

I carry your heart with me ..

2011-11-24T02:12:00.000-08:00

I came across this poem first time, in the movie In Her Shoes , where the maid of honour reads it for the bride, who is her sister. There was lots going in there which moved me to tears - the setting (a wedding for god's sake!), the main actors (sisters! duh!) and in general the context - et all.

I remembered the poem with great fondness, and tucked it somewhere in the folds of memory , almost forgotten.

And then I came across it again, this time when a friend announced the arrival of her little one!

La di dah! The floodgates opened again!

This time, I thought , I should share it (source www.poetryfoundation.org), lest it slips away in the memory lane again..

I carry your heart with me ( I carry it in my heart)

E. E. Cummings

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart)

i am never without it(anywhere

i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done

by only me is your doing,my darling)

i fear no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)

i want no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)

and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows

higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

Apple was just a fruit , until..

2011-10-06T02:40:00.000-07:00

The great Steve Jobs passed away today.

Take a bow Mr. Jobs, you changed how the world looks at machines!

A few of his quotes ( as they have appeared on BBC's website)

Commencement Speech at Stanford University, 2005

Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything - all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure - these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.
Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma - which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice.
Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. And the only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven't found it yet, keep looking. Don't settle. As with all matters of the heart, you'll know when you find it. And, like any great relationship, it just gets better and better as the years roll on. So keep looking until you find it. Don't settle.
Interview with Business Week, 1998
That's been one of my mantras - focus and simplicity. Simple can be harder than complex: you have to work hard to get your thinking clean to make it simple. But it's worth it in the end because once you get there, you can move mountains.

AllThingsD Conference, 2010

There's nothing that makes my day more than getting an e-mail from some random person in the universe who just bought an iPad over in the UK and tells me the story about how it's the coolest product they've ever brought home in their lives. That's what keeps me going. It's what kept me five years ago, it's what kept me going 10 years ago when the doors were almost closed. And it's what will keep me going five years from now whatever happens.

Chronicles of Banse Wada - The layout

2011-06-08T05:36:00.000-07:00

The structure and layout of Banse wada was quite complex.

Not just the people living here, but the inanimate objects were integral to Banse wada. The Chronicles of Banse wada are incomplete without introducing you to these wondrous characters - they are not just innocent bystanders witnessing the story unfold, they are the ones who at times created one!

We had one common entrance to the property leading straight into the courtyard, which partially served the purpose of parking spaces for two-wheelers.

The mud courtyard had a beautiful parijat tree almost in the center. It has played a very significant part in making Banse wada a cherished memory.

Bottom left corner of the courtyard was the utility area fondly called the haud, and maids ( another post! ) employed by respective families used to wash clothes and utensils here.

It had two open sections, one was a stone paved area, generally reserved for washing utensils. Other one was tiled, and had two large square stone blocks, used to wash clothes. This area enjoyed the presence of a 'corporation tap' (one of the 10 in the whole property), which ensured running water at full pressure in mornings and evenings (generally the ablution peak-times) and moderately low pressure in the afternoons (off peak :) ). An open narrow gutter ran along the length of this area and carried water to the drain. It also had an enclosed bathroom solely used by Nimkar family, with tin roof and tin door. The structure was precariously held together with some rudimentary brickwork.

The whole haud area was commendably clean given the volume of activity that took place there everyday.

Nimkars' residence was a modest one room, along the outer wall of Banse wada . It was home for the elderly Nimkar couple, and their 3 children - one daughter, and two married sons , plus it also served as a laundry - Mr. Nimkar and his elder son washed and ironed clothes for a living.

The right bottom corner was the green-space of Banse wada. It was maintained and guarded by the Nimkars.It had a neatly tended array of shrubs and flowering plants , and one huge jamun tree. . This was a mature tree yielding bumper fruits every summer (staining the clothes left out to dry, and causing general mayhem and disharmony between Nimkar and other families now and then.)

Mithu kaka's one room was next to this and was the humblest with one wooden rack, one cot and a stove.

On the right side of this room were the washing lines - one end tied to the parijaat tree, and the other, if I can recall, to nails struck in Mithu kaka's outer wall. Mostly our family's clothes were left to dry here, and sometimes shared by Phadnis family. The Parathe and Kanekar families always kept to the backyard.

On the other side of the parijaat tree, was the parking area. It held three two-wheelers belonging to the two Banse families. Three families owned bicycles, and they were parked in a single row along the narrow passage leading to the common w/c. When I came to own a vehicle, it was parked in front of Mithu kaka's house.

As one walked past the vehicles, they reached the front yard of Kanekars'. Kanekars' house had two rooms. Front room and kitchen. The kitchen opened into the backyard. Phadnis also had a similar layout.

We shared a common wall between our house and Parathe kaku's house. Both our houses were single rooms.

Phadnis and our houses sort of had a narrow slice of private front yard, separated from the washing lines by three rusty barrels, where we tried to grow small plants now and then.

The narrow passage running past Kanekars' house was the common entrance to the common w/c in the back yard. Opposite to the w/c were two bathrooms used by Kanekar, Parathe and Phadnis faimiles. This back yard had a tiled flooring, unlike the mud front yard.

Next to the haud was the staircase leading upstairs to the first floor , where there were two houses in a row for both Banse families, and another staircase running in between. These stairs led to the second floor. Second floor had five rooms, three on one side of the staircase and two on the other. All these rooms served as bedrooms. Parathe and our family rented a room each here as well.

Thus was the total assembly of the monument that played a centre stage to many a bitter sweet events in our lives.

Chronicles of Banse Wada

2011-06-08T03:02:00.000-07:00

Since birth, and then through a significant part of my childhood and adolescence I have lived with my family in Banse wada. A name that evokes a mixed avalanche of emotions amongst all those who shared space in this historical monument!

So exquisite and interesting is the tale of community living in Banse wada, that I am going to start blogging about it, episode by episode. This is the first post amongst many to come.

Let me start with what a wada is.

[This property form demands a special post in itself - I will stick to the brief and basic description.]

A wada basically is a huge ancestral property which in old times housed a single large family .

It typically has a large courtyard (front and back) , a central patio, an annex , pantry, kitchen, living rooms, dining rooms, pooja rooms, storage rooms and quite a few bedrooms on 2-3 storeys.

It can also have an outdoor 'utility' area -reserved for washing clothes and utensils.

As it was in olden times, having toilets inside the house was not very sanitary - or as the beliefs go - auspicious, so there would be a set of toilets in some discreet back courtyard location.

As times progressed, maintaining these properties by a single (and mostly nuclear) family became difficult, and sections of this property were rented out.

The landlords graciously made small amends in each room (or set of rooms) to allow the tenants to set up their home. Any more changes than these, were solely made at the landlord's discretion , or by mutual consent between the landlord and the tenant - as the case may be. Typically these arrangements were on a case by case basis.

The tenants mostly had to share toilets, bathrooms, utility and courtyards. Kitchens and indoor utilities generally didn't have running water.

So to speak, only bedrooms and to some extent kitchens provided privacy.

Tenant families lived symbiotically and cordially almost like a functional joint family.

With Banse wada, this was the case amongst most (definitely not all) families.

Banse wada was home for six tenants (five tenants with families, and one bachelor grandpa)

and two main families of the Banse's themselves. I say main families, because there were two Banse brothers from the first generation , one of which was the actual landlord and their sons later tried to setup families in the limited space of their existing house. ( How? well - it calls for a separate post!)

Banse wada was a strange amalgamation of personalities. It was like a rainbow of disarrayed colours, each colour with its own shade of dark and light - none matched the other, yet together they formed this endearing spectrum - which touched the lives of all who stayed here.

..to be contd.

Kindle

2011-03-17T02:54:00.000-07:00

For my last birthday, C got me an Amazon Kindle.

Couldn't have asked for a better gift!

The thing is C knows I love reading, but is not sure what book to pick up. So he just picked Kindle :)

Since this wonderful thing came into my possession, I have downloaded about 100 books in 3 months.

Read about 20 of those. (I did download over 30 classics, which I have read earlier)

To do justice to these proportions, I am going to list noteworthy books I read, and some small review for it.

A Child Al Confino : Autobiography of a Jewish boy (Eric Lamet) : Eric Lamet was only seven years old when the Nazis invaded Vienna, and five days after Hitler marched in, the family fled for their lives. His father fled to Poland, and he and his mother to Italy. The book is the account of his scared and lonely days as a Jew in Italy, seen from the eyes of a young child, recording the effects of war on a small , lazy Italian town.

The best for me was the relation between Eric and his mother. She is a very strong and resilient lady, and toils hard to give Enrico a normal childhood as much as possible.

The tenderness with which the author recounts friends and foes alike, makes its a surprisingly warm read.

Life From Scratch (Melissa Ford) : Divorced, lonely and out-of-job, Rachel turns to cooking from scratch to build up the flavours of her empty life. She blogs her journey, and discovers love, joy and good cooking on the way. Very simply written, quite clichéd at places, lovely food descriptions , easy flowing book.

Ending very predictable, stretched to make a happy finish!

William Walker's First Year Of Marriage (Matt Rudd): Quite a funny read, again typical clichés everywhere, wife's best friend, not-so-friendly in-laws, ill-advising buddies et-all, still had its laugh out loud moments in it.

Apothecary's Daughter (Julie Klassen): I was quite intrigued by the 'apothecary' bit of this one, and it did good amount of justice to it. A daughter taking up her father's profession and helping him through rough times in an era where daughters of the house weren't really expected to enter house trades. I liked the period feel of the book and painted a nice picture of bygone times. Cleanly written and fluid.

Incidents in the life of a Slave Girl (Harriet Ann Jacobs): Account of a slave girl in her own words spanning decades. Thankfully, Linda, though a slave, didn't go through the atrocities generally associated with slavery. In the eighteen hundreds , she still has to face the degradations and deprivations a slave had to face. Her struggle to bring a brighter, safer future for her children is noteworthy.

Notes From A Small Island (Bill Bryson): First book I actually bought , on Kindle. (all previous ones were free when I downloaded them). Being in the UK, had to read the insider's take on the British quirkiness and all the things British that he loves and hates. Amazingly written, some parts were so funny, I was laughing out loud on the train, drawing stares from other passengers. Well researched, keen observations, and obviously a very apparent love for this island - can see it all in this book. Some of the things in this books are the national traits of England, and you definitely can see it in your day-to-day encounters with all things English. Loved it!

Before I go to sleep. (S J Watson) : Book is about Christine, who suffers from short term memory loss, and can't form long term memories. Whatever happens in her day, is wiped out from her memory once she sleeps. She keeps a journal, which tells her that the person she lives with is her husband, and that she is taking treatment from a doctor, without the knowledge of her husband. One of them is lying to her. Who? Can she find out? and how?

Very gripping book - read it in one sitting (like old times - into the wee hours of night!)

One Day (David Nicholls) : There was a time when I started noticing this book in everybody's hand while travelling on the train. Had to find out what it was about. First book in pdf format that I read on kindle. But suddenly found myself missing the 'flip-the-pages-and-smell-the-book' experience and borrowed it from the library to read it. Emma and Dexter are classmates, who go their own way after finishing university, but keep meeting on one day every year for twenty two years - sharing their lives and finding their place in the world all along.

A nostalgia inducing book. Its a love story, but very differently written from the ones I've read before. Liked it!

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I have read a few more books since this post, will keep updating reviews.

Five Minutes Everyday - Ex. 3

2011-03-09T05:55:00.000-08:00

I read certain sections of my regional newspaper regularly.

I must confess, that more than the news part, I like the other sections better.

Sections with articles, short stories, poems, people voicing their opinions, personal experiences, travelogues, recipes, guest columns by artists, celebrities, authors etc.

These are really interesting sometimes, even humorous, thought provoking.

One such section has these

http://www.esakal.com/esakal/20110327/5470334940453845176.htm

http://www.esakal.com/esakal/20110227/4828802106652704133.htm

http://www.esakal.com/esakal/20110313/4887032978112808032.htm

I enjoy listening to music. I love to read through the song in my mind, and delve into the profound meaning of the song. The songs these days lack that weight and depth - they are quite frivolous.

But oldie-goldies are very rich in the 'depth' department.

In my teen years, I was swept off by the magic of poetry.

I enjoyed reading poetry and its interpretation. Many of my language classes in school had these exercises in ample, and we were blessed with teachers who encouraged free thought and individual expression. It was never textbook education for them. I think those years nurtured and imbibed the love of language in me.

Some poems have stayed in fragments of images and emotions in my mind, I am posting them below.

Every time I think of this poem, I imagine lot of colours, lot of sunlight, and laughter.

I Remember, I Remember

-By Thomas Hood

I remember, I remember,

The roses, red and white,

The violets, and the lily cups,

Those flowers made of light!

The lilacs where the robin built,

And where my brother set

The laburnum on his birth-day,--

The tree is living yet!

I remember, I remember

Where I was used to swing,

And thought the air must rush as fresh

To swallows on the wing;

My spirit flew in feathers then,

That is so heavy now,

And summer pools could hardly cool

The fever on my brow!

I remember, I remember

The fir trees dark and high;

I used to think their slender tops

Were close against the sky:

It was a childish ignorance,

But now 'tis little joy

To know I'm farther off from Heav'n

Than when I was a boy.

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The Death Bed

-By Thomas Hood

This is one is the anti-image of the previous one. Earlier one is about childhood, carefree days and bright and light. This one is all gloom , sorrow, old age and the dread and chill of death.

What pictures can a few words create!

The Death Bed.

We watch'd her breathing through the night,

Her breathing soft and low,

As in her breast the wave of life

Kept heaving to and fro.

So silently we seem'd to speak,

So slowly moved about,

As we had lent her half our powers

To eke her living out.

Our very hopes belied our fears,

Our fears our hopes belied--

We thought her dying when she slept,

And sleeping when she died.

For when the morn came dim and sad,

And chill with early showers,

Her quiet eyelids closed--she had

Another morn than ours.

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A Wish

- By Samuel Rogers

Reading this poem is like looking at a watercolour picture of a idyllic day in countryside. Hills, flowers, brook and water mill, thatched roof cottage, lady in blue apron tending a small patch of land in front of her 'ivied porch' - and yes the village church as well.

I see myself retiring to a place like this with C. *wink*

A Wish.

Mine be a cot beside the hill;

A bee-hive's hum shall soothe my ear;

A willowy brook, that turns a mill,

With many a fall shall linger near.

The swallow, oft, beneath my thatch,

Shall twitter from her clay-built nest;

Oft shall the pilgrim lift the latch,

And share my meal, a welcome guest.

Around my ivied porch shall spring

Each fragrant flower that drinks the dew;

And Lucy, at her wheel, shall sing

In russet-gown and apron blue.

The village-church, among the trees,

Where first our marriage-vows were given,

With merry peals shall swell the breeze,

And point with taper spire to heaven.

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The Miller's Daughter

-by Lord Tennyson

And this one is the far cuter and sweeter version of Bryan Adams' 'I wanna be'

Every time I listen to that song, this poem flicks through my mind - same desires, but what a huge difference in expressions! I wonder if Bryan Adams read this poem and thought bringing it out as his song - in a saucier version.

The Miller's Daughter.

It is the miller's daughter,

And she is grown so dear, so dear,

That I would be the jewel

That trembles in her ear:

For hid in ringlets day and night,

I'd touch her neck so warm and white.

And I would be the girdle

About her dainty dainty waist,

And her heart would beat against me,

In sorrow and in rest:

And I should know if it beat right,

I'd clasp it round so close and tight.

And I would be the necklace,

And all day long to fall and rise

Upon her balmy bosom,

With her laughter or her sighs,

And I would lie so light, so light,

I scarce should be unclasp'd at night.

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Readers, what are your favourite poems?

Five Minutes Everyday - Ex. 2

2011-03-03T14:50:00.001-08:00

10 Things that make me weep

* Adverts with happy babies.

* Wedding songs.

* Candid apologies.

* Hurt mixed anger.

* Loneliness.

* Conversations that fail to communicate true feelings.

* Self-pity.

* Remembering my grandma , and things I want to do or say again, if only I got another chance.

* Talking to my baby bump.

* Cheesy emotional scenes from dud movies.

Readers, what things make you weep?

-------------------------------------------------

Today's Exercise: Make lists.

Five Minutes Everyday - Ex. 1

2011-03-01T08:31:00.000-08:00

Coffees make my morning, but teas make my day - my mid day.

As the mid afternoon progresses, eyes wander to the bottom right corner of the computer screen for time. 10 more minutes.

The promise of a break looms heavy in the air.

Ears are pricked for the familiar 'tea calls' from work mates. As chairs swivel, and stale cups from the morning's brew are lifted, its about time. But hold on. Nope - no bolting from the seat to the pantry. Good things come to those who wait. And so one waits, till someone on their way to the pantry tap at the desk - 'coming for tea?'

Ahh - now is the time. Screens are locked with a flourish, and you head to the pantry.

The warm mist of a boiling kettle, the acrid whiff of coffee...

At the bottom of the cup, place a tea bag, and 2 sugars. And then fill three quarters of the cup with boiling water. You watch as reddish brown tea releases from beneath the tea bag like squid ink.

Time to give a quick stir, and then a dash of milk.

The strict, transparent red liquid transforms into its soft , dense self, as the cloud of milk rises from the bottom.

You lift the cup and smell it. Gently bring it to your lips, and tentatively take the first sip.

Not scalding hot, neither insipid warm.

Not strongly bitter, neither lamely sweet.

Just perfect!

----------------------

Today's exercise: describe a ritual.

Five Minutes Everyday

2011-02-25T01:24:00.001-08:00

Its been a long long hiatus from blog world (from writing blogs that is, I still very actively read blogs!) .. and I have resolved to break the spell by starting to write again.

Something, or anything in fact - but more regularly. As the blog says - its Never too Late!

I have always loved to write - I love words, I love how we can play with them- or how they play with us!

Its a wonderful channel to direct your energies, your emotions to - no boundaries , no limits.

No thoughts are forbidden, no ideas are impossible, no rants are ignored- everything that comes to mind is welcome.

Its therapy!

Having ranted that - I sometimes don't know what to write.

As has been the case so far.

Am lazy sometimes, and other times its no reason at all.

In a book I read some time back - the author had said about writing her blog - 'you have to need it.'

I miss that gasping need to write - the feeling where you have to write NOW!

I want to write, but what?

When I read a good book or a good blog, I find myself wishing - 'I want to be writing like this..'

I dream of writing a book myself, of becoming a writer - but you see, I am already hurdled by the writer's block!

Some things come easily to you, some you have to work on - you have to indicate it to Coelho's universe so that it can conspire in helping you to achieve it.

And for this love of writing , I have decided to take up an exercise.

Five minutes everyday.

This, has invoked that need to write in me. Stoked the fire.

As I was reading this book , on my train to work , I just wanted to start writing - then and there. It was a desperation to that crazy brink where you just have to do it!

I dreaded reading any further - lest I ruin the joy of discovering yet another inspiration to write, only to helplessly see that urge fade away by the time I can actually put my thoughts to paper.

This, I have promised myself, will give me a blog post everyday.

What do you do when ..

2009-12-09T12:07:00.000-08:00

Being a full time mom for the first time has proved a few points to myself.

1. I can be incredibly patient

2. I can be incredibly impatient

3. I still think too much about things!

Patience is a virtue that comes with childbirth - I seriously believe it.

And much to my surprise, it comes quite easily out of you, as opposed to the lil one - that doesn't come so easily out of you ;-) Thinking of which - impatience indeed is harboured to its max during the same time - verging dangerously on the brink of intolerance.

So basically this deadly combo of patience and impatience comes with your bundle of joy!

So what do you when ..

1. ..you are done with baby duties and lil one is napping - you have one whole hour to yourself.

unload and load dishwasher, unload and load washer,tidy kitchen, take shower, cook your meal, switch on the TV to enjoy the meal .. WHEN .. lil one's had enough of sleep and its PLAYTIME - or if you can't play then its HOWL TIME!

time to practice your patience or impatience? :-)

2...you are done with baby duties, lil one napping AND you are done with your chores as well. You can watch TV , surf net , read book or nap. You surf and surf for what? '...how to start weaning the baby..give fruit purees, baby rice etc etc..' And you are filled with ideas of nice first recipes to feed your baby and you can't wait to do it!

time to practice your patience or impatience? :-)

3...you are done with baby duties, (super mom you think :) ) - baby is wide awake, happy, with clean nappy, full tummy, pleasant mood - all that moms ask for! You read books together, you play with building blocks (messy living room again) , you play peek-a-boo (Mommy is tired), you go out for a stroll (mommy more tired - and living room still in mess! But who cares, baby is happy and so is mom!). Perfect 'mommy-baby' day! Dinner cooked.Lil one fed, bathed and tucked in bed. Perfect 'mommy-daddy' evening (anticipated). Daddy dear comes home, looks at the house and shoots - 'What did you do all day!!??'

Time to practice your patience or impatience? :-)

All you mommies out there - what do you do when these things happen ?

Creative Writing

2009-06-09T09:53:00.000-07:00

When I was in 7th grade ( in the great JPP), I had attended a workshop for creative writing in one summer vacation.
In one of the sessions, there were 3 bowls labelled 'location' , 'characters', 'situation'.
Each had chits in it - for example, the bowl labelled 'location' had chits with - 'old building', 'jungle','factory', 'palace', 'desert' etc
The 'Characters' bowl had 'thief and police', 'teacher', 'friends', 'magician', 'aliens', 'horse and hippo' etc
The 'situation ' bowl had 'adventure', 'envy', 'celebration', 'revenge', 'murder' etc
We were supposed to pick a chit from each bowl, and then write a short story taking place at that location with those characters in that situation.
Say I picked 'factory', 'magician', 'revenge' - then I should write a story about a magician as my central character, which takes place in a factory and has revenge as its theme and so on.
I actually drew out pretty lame chits - 'friends', 'adventure' and 'old building'. It was a straight-forward draw - friends out on an adventure which happens in an old building.
A few days in the workshop, I already had an upper hand in the creative area - amongst a bunch of 7th graders, I was doing quite well. We were evaluated regularly by the instructors, and I was being 'noticed' for my creative flare. (*wink*)
So - these chits of mine weren't 'challenging' enough for me. So I did a 'Roald Dahl' spin on my story. It got rated the best in that workshop. Below is that story I wrote a long long time ago.
(The main language being used in the workshop was marathi - and the story I wrote was in marathi)

Amit and Sujay were great friends. They were always together. They had grown up together - and though they went to different schools, they spent most of their free time together.
Their parents adored them both and treated them like brothers. They were in-seperable.
As boys of their age are, they were very active and adventurous kids. In summer vacations they went to different camps or new places with their parents. But their favourite place was the small town where Amit's grandpa stayed.
It had all the attractions these kids would enjoy. A small hill to go trekking, a river to go swimming and fishing, Amit's uncle's farm where they could ride the tractor and eat sugarcane. And, of all the things, the town had an old building - crumbling and deserted , even haunted some people said - where no one stayed. Both of them itched to go and explore it, but were always restrained from going there.
But not this summer - they had decided that they will sneak up to that building and get a good look.
They waited for a good opportunity everyday.
One fine day - when the weather was all cloudy and dull - even the elders dozed off after lunch - Sujay and Amit sneaked out. They carried their back-packs with a torch, a rope and water. They also packed some sandwiches for the road and set out.
The building was not very far from the hill by the farm. It was a good walk and the boys were glad that it was cloudy - sun would have made the climb harder.
The afternoon seemed darker that usual due to the gathering clouds when they reached the building. There was a slow rumble in the clouds.
There was a door frame, but no door to it. They went into a huge hall with solid wooden beams and mud plastered walls. Cobwebs hung everywhere and pegions cooed from their nests in the ceiling. The place smelled musty.
The boys were thrilled. Amit went on and on about the things there.. "Sujay - these wooden beams must be a 100 years old - even these side pillars - come here - feel them ! "
" Suji - the windows must have been huge - we both can pass through them without bending"
" Hey - feel the walls - its as if we can knock them out in a punch ! "
He held Sujay by the hand and led him from wall to wall and urged him to touch and feel and knock everything.
Sujay was silent. He was excited, but also anxious. His ears picked the slightest sounds outside and within. He had noticed that the rumbling clouds had started to pour now. He could feel the dampness in the walls - his nostrils flared at the wiff of rotting wood. The floor beneath their feet was old and worn out - it felt as if it would cave in.
The rains were now getting worse - thunderstorms, howling winds and even occasional lightening. Something was wrong thought Sujay.
Amit still was dragging him by the hand here and there. Sujay gripped Amit's hand and said -"Amit, something feels wrong. Lets get out. The rains are making the smell worse and the touch feels damper every time - I feel something is wrong - come lets go out - NOW! "
Amit could feel the urgency and anxiety in Sujay's voice. But he wanted to check the rooms, and go up the stairs. "Sujay - I know you don't find this as exciting as I do - but we'll explore together - please lets spend some more time here " he said.
But Sujay won't listen. He now was forcefully dragging Amit towards the open door - he could trace his way back.
Amit knew there was no staying back now - he took the lead and came out with Sujay - all the time thinking to give Sujay a good piece of his mind once they were out.
They came out into the pouring rain and headed towards a tree near by.
Within moments there was a loud crash as two wooden beams just above where they had stood came down crushing the walls on the side - had they still been there, they would have been buried alive!
Amit looked at the heap in shock and his mind filled with guilt -" I should never have brought Sujay here - I should have listened to him sooner when he said we should come out - I should have been the one protecting him and looking after his safety ". His eyes filled with tears as he squeezed Sujay's hand with gratitude.
Sujay lightly tapped Amit's arm. The rain had stopped and sun peeped from behind the clouds. The two friends set out for home, hand in hand - as Sujay tapped his white cane on their way back.

PARP!

2009-06-09T09:25:00.001-07:00

When people pass wind, or fart (as the common word goes) - I doubt if anyone ever goes 'awwww.. you parped!' - the reaction more or less is '...how disgusting .."

( I guess a few enthu people like you who are reading this post might just think the same '..how disgusting .. she is writing after a long time ..and that too about parps! ' )

Well - a lot of water has ran under the bridge - and things have changed. I have a very adorable addition to my family now - and that makes me look at things in new perspective.

As I type this, my little one lies in the cot - sometimes chuckling, sometimes sighing in content and sometimes - well doing 'pur pur' in the sleep - and my heart goes - 'awwwww you parped - chooo chweeet ! '

Observe And Learn

2009-01-22T09:49:00.000-08:00

I came across this interesting weekly feature in a marathi daily - Loksatta.

Its basically about how parents have deliberately put in an effort to spend quality time with their child or how they have ensured that they participate more actively into enriching the 'growing up' phase of their child.

Every week there is an article about such efforts.

One article featured how a father encouraged his son to participate in the re-decoration of the house - generally kids are exlcuded from this process which is considered an 'adults-only' decision. One wall in the living area was exclusively kept for the kid to decorate - but on his hesitation to do so, the father joined him in painting a scene from some tribal art onto the wall - much to the pride of his son.

Another one featured a celebrity couple always on the move due to frquent tours of their play. How they divide time to ensure atleast one of them get to spend quality time with their daughter.

The article that caught my attention though was one where a child-psychologist explains how a child finds regular jobs by tradesmen very fascinating than all the glitz and glory of TV shows and cartoons.

Simple everyday tasks like watching the laundrywalah do the ironing, the mill walah load and unload his mill to grind flour, panwalah folding up a meetha-paan and so on!

Memories of childhood flooded back - how my Dad always ensured that we got our fair share of these treats.

He would not stop at buying a bicycle for us - when there was a puncture - he would ask - "Do you know how this is fixed?" " Have you seen the repair man do it? "
If not, he would accompany me to the cycle-shop (owned by a person he called anna), park our 2 wheeler there, and we both would sit there and watch one of the assistants in the shop fix the tyre tube.
Dad would ask some basic questions - to see if am getting the process, and would give simple answers if I couldn't..- 'why use a pail of water ? ' ( so the tube when immersed, sends out bubbles at the punctured hole)
'why sandpaper the affected area?' (so the glue works better) ..and so on!
I would feel very proud and knowledgble at the end of the process - I now KNEW how a puncture was fixed!

If an electrician or carpenter was called over at our place to fix something - and Dad was around - he would encourage us to watch what the skilled person was doing - he would point to the tools being used and ask if we knew what they were and how they were used.
I remember some really novel items like 'rawal plug' - a small maleable plug that was pushed into the hole in a wall before the actual nail or screw - so that it fits in snug and tight.

Same applied when we got our chappals or school-bags mended from a cobbler ( we could argue with the cobbler how instead of using glue, putting a ribet (rivet) is better for the chappals' longevity! ;-) )

We could identify choona from kaat (or kattha) as the paanwalah made paans - and could request favors like more gulkand and less supari in our paans! ( Whenever there was a big family lunch at our place, it was the duty of we cousins to take the order of post-lunch paans for everyone and get it from the paan walah on the corner)
Making veedas at home was also later added to our list - make veedas , lock them with cloves, and string them together using thread and needle. Parents taught us a few basic folds for these veedas - like peti-veeda (flat one) and govind-veeda ( a pyramid like fold, which if managed well - would be promoted to be kept in poojas) . Ok - I digress..

Thankfully, our childhood provided us with ample opportunities to watch these tradesmen at work - many of these trades are forgotten arts now.
There were door-to-door tradesmen coming once a month - like 'Kalhai - walah' who would coat the insides of brass vessels with tin/aluminium (not sure ..) or 'dhar-walah' who would sharpen knieves, 'vili', scissors etc on his special cycle mounted wheel.
There was this one guy who would fix iron/ tin bases to old metal buckets which were leaking. I always wondered where he got those tin-cutting scissors of his!

And how can we forget the vendors - ice-gola walahs, kulfi-walahs ( they rub the kulfi moulds or the ice glasses in hand to melt it a bit, so it comes out clean in one shot! ), chanya-manya (!!) bora walahs, mogra walahs ( their measurements used to be like chatak, aat-paav etc which Dad and Ajji used to explain were quite appropriate for these kinda goods).

Then there were the bhadbhunje ( people with big furnaces or bhattis) - we would take dried corn to make cornflakes, or jowar / sali to make puffed lahya. (popcorn)
They would use huge iron woks with heated sand on coal fires - and use it to puff the grains into popcorns - it was fun to watch !

There used to be regular trips to girniwalahs (flour mill) - one for routine stuff like atta, besan and jowar - bajra flours, and special one for yearly stock of red chilly powder, turmeric, shikekai.
Both these mills were very different in scale and size, and comparing those machines and techniques was fascinating! It was like being into a previledged world!

We as kids have watched mattresses and pillows being made, customised shoe racks and cabinets being hand-made from wood, dining table frames being welded, petrol pumped out and fed into another scooter, names inscribed on vessels, new notebooks being bound from old, unused pages of last-year notebooks, breads and biscuits being baked in bakeries, pots being shaped and baked by a potter - even silk sarees being rafooed ( very fine art of mending a small tear in expensive fabrics)
I even remember watching how colored glass toys were made - some place in Bhor I guess where my friend S's dad took us to - and later gifted us all with a set of small glass animals!

So many times I remember my Dad telling us - '....just stand and watch - observe how they do it - it may appear easy - but it requires a certain amount of skill to do it - thats the beauty - they make it seem very simple! '

Today, we have programmes on TV like 'How Stuff's made', 'How do they do it' - which is an informative treat to watch. But better than that, as a child - this more human experience is far more enriching - not just in terms of information but also in terms of the emotinal quotient it offers.
Simple task of observing and watching skilled people at work has enriched our childhood with experiences that would last for a life time - and at the same time filled our minds with everyday knowledge and a wisdom to respect those people who know how to do their job - and do it well - however small it may be.

We will always be grateful to our parents who taught us to admire , acknowledge and respect these tasks and the people behind them!

Early Morning ..

2008-12-06T01:54:00.000-08:00

Having settled into the routine of marriage, job and the chores - waking up early ( really early ) has become a rare and less savoured art ..

All you working ppl - you know how it is - get up, get ready -leave. Weekends - get up really late .. and all that.

But there are a occasional few mornings in each week when the 20 winks are over soon and you are fresh as daisy and cannot wait to get out of bed.

There are such lovely and deeply satisfying little things that one can do in those early moments - it just makes your day shine till the end.

For me one of the cherished early morning activities are early morning walks - when the rest of the world is in slumber - but the trees, birds - even the wind and the sky are all already on the wake up duty ..

Roads are lined with trees with sunrays filtering through their leaves .. shrubs look freshly bathed with tiny droplets of dew still not 'toweled' .. flowers still on the branches - not plucked by the green thumbs yet , enjoying and exibhiting their beauty to whoever is fortunate enough to witness it. Even the dry leaves, and showers of wild flowers strewn on the street - everything looks fresh and untouched.

Birds - invisible birds in the trees - with all sorts of exotic calls and tunes - chirp and chatter - the sound is the sweetest wake up call on can ever have . One can easily pass a long while just noting the different sounds. Flocks which suddenly leave trees with a flutter - leaving behind a gentle shower of dried leaves slowly gliding down to ground.

The sky is a gentle canvas of shifting colors - its not a riot of colors as during the sunset - but a more subtle display of creamy and snug colors - a lovely mixture of peach and pink and a tinge of violet melting away into the bright morning sun.

Then there are those honorable few on their regular morning walks as well - who are already drunk on the morning freshness and still have the warmth and cheer to nod or wave a "Good Morning" to you.

Among all these luxury awakenings are those who are up on duty - sweepers, cleaners, milkmen, paperwalas, dairy owners, bakery owners, chai-stall owners, some street hawkers picking their goods fresh from the early market and on their way to a busy day. They are regular faces we have seen on other days - but seeing them early morning awakens a new respect for them and their trade. A feeling dawns on you that our smooth running world is thanks to these and many others ..

A leisurely morning walk gives you a new perspective of the things around, fills your heart with cheer and enthusiasm , gives you a few meditative moments and freshens your mind, body and soul for the day that lies ahead - so much of wealth to be gained - if only we can crawl out of the blanket a little early :)

But walks is not always a luxury we can afford. ( In London it indeed is a very very rare treat for us - unless layers of clothes and umbrellas is your idea of liesurely walk :) . Bless India for one more of its numerous selfless offerings to her people.)

On such days an early morning is several other small joys - Steaming cuppa with your favourite music playing. Quick trip to the garden to pluck a few flowers , clean up a few leaves, water your 'darling' plant. Take an early shower to light a diya and agarbatti in front of the pooja .and spend a few long moments in prayer.Managing to 'cook' a breakfast for both of us . Replying to an e-mail long planned. These are small things which are 'nice to do' but always on the back burner because they don't fit the prime-time slot :)

I've seen my ajji rise early every single day of her life - and go about her duties with single-minded dedication. She never missed her morning duties and never needed anyone to fill in for her! Because of her our mornings were always smooth - in our old house - the courtyard sprinkled with water, cleaned and with fresh rangoli,fresh flowers for pooja, fresh milk bolied and ready for tea, teacups, teapots rinsed and ready to make and serve tea, newpaper in the house, hot water heating on stove for bath - hundreds of things which one would assume are always there ! My parents too have followed suit and even added their morning exercise routines to it - but regretably enough none of us siblings have picked this good habit :)

Whatever is ones reason to come out of the bed early enough - there are these own precious moments which for once makes your mind to dwell on the famous saying " Ealry to bed and early to rise - makes one healthy, wealthy and wise! "

Venice

2008-07-17T11:38:00.000-07:00

As Lonely Planet says it ..

"Venice is Neptune's portico risen from the deep...but for how long?"
"Venezia, La Serenissima, Queen of the Adriatic, city of canals and palaces...or tawdry sewer alive with crowds and charlatans? Venice's nature is dual: water and land, long history and doubtful future, airy delicacy and dim melancholy. If this precious place does sink, the world will be the poorer."

Smitten .. yes! thats exactly what we were from the moment we landed at Treviso airport.

Bright sunny day, roads lined with greenish whitish olive trees, and button cute cafes .. radio in the public transport blaring " Radeo Venezia ..." .. Venice grew on us almost instantly. And we were yet to see the whole of it ..

Friends had warned us against NOT being lost in the winding streets near San Marco ..

" ... don't bother .. just lose yourself in the alleys there .. you will get the best gelato at a corner where you will finally give up !!! ... " was the common advise.

And did we follow it to the tee? Oh yes we did!

We were staying away from the main Venice city,on the lagoon island of Murano. Our hotel was a tiny little one tucked inside a residential lane with a lovely rooftop garden where we could have a quite dinner on a tiring day ( with a spicy arabiatta spaghetti and red vino ) while we heard the town clock toll and see the pigeons flutter into sunset ..

It was picture perfect! Cobbled streets, brick lanes, piazzas with stone benches and a ubiquitous stone fountain .. it was just like walking into a dream that too - back in time.
English was sparse there - to watch C trying to communicate with the locals - I fell in love with him all over again! :)
Cute cafes, cuter Italian owners in it :) and the homely little trattorias with tables lined against the tiny canals .. what else can one ask on a romatic trip ?

Food was heavenly in the most obscure corners of Venice, or the tiny lagoon islands we went to - Murano, Burano, Farro, Torcello - right from the antipasti to the dolce :)
And ofcourse generous amounts of vino with our meals and the classic cocktail Negroni of aperitif Campari -;)
A cool evening lighted near the Rialto Bridge - cozy little candle-lit table tucked near the canal with a view of Rialto - music found in gentle chugging of water and sensuous sounding Italian - and a glass of Negroni with the color of sunset dissolved in it - a perfect start to a perfect dinner - Pure Bliss - Contentment - Heaven!!

A fact we didn't know before was the Italian coffee - oh how we enjoyed drinking coffee there - for as small a sum as 1 euro - you get heavenly coffee in Italy almost everywhere!
After I had learnt my lesson with the tiny glass cup filled with acrid black coffee when we ordered Caffe (black strong coffee with a crema foam on top) - I preferred having an occassional Latte Macchiato ( steamed milk 'stained' with espresso) while C indulged in the Irish Coffee ( I'll call it whisky 'stained' with black coffee :D )

We soaked in the sun, mixed in the jostling crowds at San Marco, enjoyed the lonely walks in the lanes of colorful Burano and the lovely bricked walkways along the blue canals in Torcello, hopped onto traghetti and sat back and relaxed on a Gondola, payed visits to Museos and whiled sometime at cafes and bars - till we totally and fatally fell in love with Venice.

Venice was an experience for us - most romantic and most cherished.

With A Child A Mother is Born

2007-09-09T04:54:00.000-07:00

(Saw this caption in one of the Johnsons' Baby ads, and it inspired this poem ..)
----------------------------------------------------------------

'Positive' in clear and blue it says..
Take a deep breath and the mind sways..

With a smile,nod and a wink..
You say to him, 'Its what we think!"

Smiles,pauses and cheeks change hue..
So when is the 'bundle of joy', due?

Tests, checks and routine scans,
Excited moms, dads and grans..

Do this, don't do that,take care..
Stress,weights,fatigue - don't you dare!

Eat good, think good and rest well,
Its for the baby , not you, they tell..

Slowly there is this small little bump,
Feeling it, the heart does a jump!

The day of the first ultrasound,
A tiny form , both watch spellbound..

A life within, a flickering heartbeat,
A wonder, a miracle or nature's feat?

The baby within occupies your mind,
feeling it inside, you relax and unwind.

Tiny feet,tiny hands, baby sounds,baby smells
Upon all this and more, your mind now dwells.

The time comes close to end all longings,
And thus the labor of love begins.

Through the pain,whats the drive all along?
To meet you my little one, is all I long.

With all your might, one last try,
Exhausted but relieved, you hear it cry..

My Angel, my life now you will adorn,
And With the Child, a Mother is born.

------------

(Motherhood is a rebirth - so true!)

A Piece of Swiss

2007-09-06T04:47:00.000-07:00

Coming from a service oriented marathi family, I would have only dreamt of going to the Swiss country some day.
And thanks to I.T. - my dream came true pretty early, and not once, but twice! (and if the devine forces permit, might come true a couple of more times)

I don't really remember dreaming of going Swiss.Though the wishful thinking of " I want to see the world on my own once .." was always there.

Been there, seen stuff, I can say its really a dream come true!
Many must have dreamt of being in a land so pure and lush and exhilarating that one feels surreal.
Abundance of nature - talk about it!

I had dreamt of sparkling blue waters, snow covered mountains, lush green landscapes, multi-hued blossoms,thick pine forests,wooden cottages, acres and acres of greenery, cruises which offer panoramic views everywhere,as you lie down on deck drenched in sun!
I had these flashes for years - after watching a movie, or a Discovery channel special, or after flicking through a travel magzine.
I had marveled at lands so beautiful, waters so clear, skies so spotless.
And when I saw them for real, I still marveled at them.

What makes a trip unforgettable?
Its the experience, its the company, the memories.
This trip to Swiss scored a perfect tenner on all these.
Experience - amazing - the food, the stay, the travel, the sights, the scenic beauty - everything was just spot on!
Company - who else but the companion for life? Can it get any better? :)
Memories - When you shut your eyes and think back of the time you had, you know its something you will recall to make yourself happy and cheerful.Unblemished, unspoilt feeling of bliss, contentment and peace - isn't this a rareity these days?Swiss memories of this trip is my very own "Raindrops on Roses .." song! :)

Is Swiss the most beautiful place on earth - may be not.
There are other places beautiful in their own right.
There are places which are beautiful for some people for their own private reasons.
Beauty is not always grand, not always pure, not always to do with mother nature.Its relative. As wise people have said, it lies in the eyes of the beholder. Its depends on the frame of mind.

I had already seen Swiss, but this trip revealed something more peaceful and deeper.
Was it my state of mind that made Swiss look so good, or was it Swiss that made me feel so good?
Can be anything ..
Is Swiss a a piece of heaven? For me - yes it will be - now onwards.

Memories Are Made Of These ...

2007-04-13T13:02:00.000-07:00

This song by Dean Martin rings in my mind quite often.
Its a very very tender ( and ohhh sooo mushy) song and to hear it with a few strums of guitar makes you wish for a moon-lit dinner with your special some-one. :)
Its a nice song with simple lyrics, and words of wisdom.
A quick search on the net revealed that this number is quite a favourite in weddings, esp when the father walks his bride-to-be daughter to the altar - soo apt n sweet! ( Am sure, I'd be one of the guests with a lump in my throat and eyes brimming with tears at one of such weddings)

But this song also brings some very special memories and in an entirely different context.

One of the memories attached to this song is from my childhood.
We were in 5th class. My very close friend - V's father had a very nice collection of english records. She had a record player at home, and handling those big black discs was a thing of great novelty. It was my first taste of 'phoren' songs,(which I later learnt was country and pop music) which I could actually hum along!
I even remember her being particularly fond of a Jim Reeves record, because its cover had a colored potrait of him, in his chequered suit - lop-sided smile,auburn hair and green eyes et-al ! :)
( the song 'Adios Amigos' was the one we liked for what we thought were 'exotic' words! )
We loved playing these records, not because we had an ear for the songs but more because it made us feel like pompous grown-ups, who chitchatted with english music playing in the background :))

Those were the days when minds were very keen, fresh and open to absorb all new things, learn more about everything and anything, with a constant urge to explore and discover on our own. We hadn't seen the world much, and each new experience brought a great deal of excitement.

Its from those formative years when your friends, your school, your teachers infulenced your mind the most and shaped it to be the thinking person you are today.

I remember one of my friend S's words at our 10th std farewell function. We were coming out of the 'school' and moving to 'college'. We were going out into different worlds pursuing our individual dreams and aspirations.
S had said that when we are kids - our parents influence us the most. As we start our formal education, our school becomes an institution which affects and influences our mind the most - as we spend maximum time here. While thanking the teachers she had said that while transiting from children to adults - theirs' was the influence which would stay with us forever. And she said that we all are grateful to them, and of course to our friends, because they have imparted to us something that would guide us through the rest of our lives.

This song is linked to the transition. Though its a romantic song ( and this aspect we appreciated much later ;) ) , this song for me is the one which evokes my school memories, the friends, the teachers and the discoveries of everyday wisdom.

Linked with this song, my memories are made of these.

Cleanliness is next to Godliness

2007-03-30T14:03:00.000-07:00

The place we stay is a small town.
The lane we stay has neat rows of converted Victorian houses, and a few B & Bs.
There is one huge parking space at one end of the row.

This lane runs parallel to the busy main road, which has a bank, a drugstore, 2 pound shops, 2 bakeries, a vegetable shop, Somerfields, Mac-D's, PizzaHut, 1 Lebanese and one 1 Chinese restaurant, a salsa dance class (yeah!) , 2 pubs, a few real estate offices,an ATM , a superstore - you get the picture? A real busy street, with all options for people of variety of age groups!

And here comes the link.
There is an old man. A hefty, 6 ft, 70 lb old man. With a green jacket - the ones that social volunteers wear here, with large specks, flannel pants, black boots, rubber gloves and a woollen cap. He carries a bottle of water, a few polythene covers and a stick - the ones with a clamp at one end, with which he can pick stuff off the road.
He is a rag picker. He does the work for himself. He takes it as a mission to keep the streets clean.

Morning, when we are rushing out of the house, in a hurry to reach the office, we see him in his gear, picking stuff off the road - cans, bottles, papers, leaves, covers - what ever can be picked up off the road to keep then clean.
If there is other stuff- like dog do, spilt liquids, dried food stuff - he squirts some water there, and wipes it off the road with some paper. He does the same work every day, without a word, without bothering about people around. He dosen't speak a word. He is totally absorbed in his work. He does it with such dedication !!!

During weekdays, we see him in the morning, without fail. Be it cold, be it snow, be it rain - he is there. He works on the weekends too! In fact - we see him on the roads more often during weekends - after all its more work on weekends!

In Maharashtra we had a great saint " Sant Gadgebaba " - who dedicated his life promoting cleanliness - he was a living example of the motto - Cleanliness is next to Godliness.
When ever I see the old man on the streets, carrying out his missionary work, I think of him as an english GadgeBaba.

Home Coming..

2007-03-21T13:22:00.000-07:00

Sticking to the name of the blog - "its never too late" - to restart blogging! :)
With the Hindu new year , I am resuming my periodic blogging.

Am back from a long (and I wish I could say relaxing) vacation to India.
Its the second time that I went back to India from a foreign land.
But this time, the coordinates were changed.
Now I have two homes to return to. And two sets of relatives to courtesy-visit ;-) (Sigh!)
( People on relatively short and really long-awaited trips to homeland can easily relate to these "courtesy visits" ! )

When you are returning home, you are looking forward to spend quality time with your dear ones, and try to make up for the long long time that you'ev been away from them.

After getting over the jet lag, the long hours of travel fatigue, unpacking gifts, reshuffling the this-part-still-belongs-to-me wardrobe - you realise that almost 2-3 days of your precious vacation are over!
Then there are these really important things like bank visits, paper work, applications and blah blah which you wish weren't there. There go another day or two!

And then come those visits!
" Auntie Meena wants to meet you both, you never got to meet after your wedding..",
"Uncle Vijay would love if you can join them for dinner, you both weren't there for his son's thread ceremony...",
"Did you meet little Purva? She is already 4 months old - do go and say hie once! " ,
"Dadaji's brother constructed this new house rt? well, they have kept a family get-together cum house warming - you both should make a visit! "
"Cousin Shriya will sulk if you don't meet her inspite of being in town! - you missed her wedding!"
" Sujata auntie's mother passed away, you should go and meet her once.."

And there are many more celebrations, ceremonies, new arrivals, unfortunate departures you have missed over the year.
All these are your people - relatives, friends, loved ones. They have missed you in the times of their joy and sorrow, and want you to spend a few moments with them.

After all, this is what you have solely missed while being in a foreign land. Your people.

Then why, why do these visits seem like an obligation? Why are we reluctant to spare time for these?
Because these visits are not the same - had you not been outside. The time is short, you'ev lost touch, you take time to warm up to these people, you have this limited time in which you want to bring yourself as back to normal as possible. And you feel the time slipping away ..

What happened to the plans of having long, liesurely conversations with mom?
To the plans of spending at least one evening munching pizza while guzzling on some fizz and watching crappy movies with your siblings, long into the night, cracking jokes and having fun like the good old days?
What happened to the plan of going on a drive with dad , chatting about career moves and future plans, interspersed with crib sessions?
Of the plans to have a lazy sunday family lunch and the gup-shup that followed into the sleepy noon-nap?
Of plans of having one evening free to catch up with your gal-pals?

And then - you think, you think of the changed coordinates, the new relations, the time you'ev been away for - and all this makes sense.
You go through these visits and once you are back in the foreign land, you look back and feel glad you did! :)
And you do catch up with those plans - you help mom with cooking, and blabber along all the while - what if a few rotis are a shade too dark! ;-)
You take dad along for all those mundane bank trips, and catch up during the mandatory hour long "lunch breaks" in the bank ;-)
You tug along your kid bro and sis for shopping, and then spend the evening sampling pani-puris and chats, till your parents drive down to pick you up for the next visit ! :)))

And just when you think you have juggled it all - its time to go! With a heavy heart and lingering memories, you pack your bags and head towards the airport. Your cellphone keeps on buzzing till the last minute you board the plane.

Once inside, you switch off - switch off from the world around, and make a hurried trip down the memory lane, to ensure all that happened in this whirlwind home-coming is tucked away snugly in corners of your mind, to savour it later ... till the next trip back home.

2007-01-03T06:33:00.000-08:00

memento
I finally happened to watch the much heard of film Memento.Its based on the central character suffering from anterograde amnesia, a condition that prevents him from forming new memories.
I won't go into explaining the story line and all that, its pretty complex to describe in few words.
What appealled me most about the film is the way it is filmed.
It gave me the same uneasy feeling, when you are trying to solve a puzzle, not a very complex one though.You know the answer is just round the corner, and if you spend some more time on it, you will crack it.
I got that feeling while watching the film. " I'll watch some more, and then I'll be able to crack this Jimmy/Teddy/Lenny mystery.." And I went on to watch the entire movie. The first and the last scenes connect if you watch the movie from start to finish (but of-course).If you miss something in between, its like a lost piece of jigsaw.
When I started watching the film, I took some time trying to figure out the meaning behind scenes in color and scenes in sepia.But when they started making sense, it was fun watching the movie.
Also, certain parts of the movie are hilarious.The character Lenny is shown running, but he is not aware why..So he goes.." Ok now - why am I running? "He sees a guy watching him through a parked car, and the guy moves as soon as he sees Lenny." Ok - so I am following this guy" - Lenny thinks.And starts running towards him, but the other guy takes out a gun." Oh well - he is following me! " Lenny thinks, before he starts running away from the guy!
While watching most of the movies, there are things happening in it, which the audience is allowed to know, but the characters in the movie are shown oblivious to it. Here, I felt equally under-informed and helpless as Lenny. This added to the fun of watching it.All you can do while watching the film is to link scenes together. And you have to wait for them.
It was a different movie experience for sure.
Do watch it for a change.

Smell the Cold

2006-12-15T04:36:00.000-08:00

When you catch a cold, what is that you miss the most?

I miss smells.

I can deal with a runny / blocked nose,a sore throat, an aching head, the frequent coughing and sneezing and in general all the bodily discomforts that cold brings with it.

( HOW I deal with those is an entirely different topic though! ;-) )

For me, the entire experience of fine dinning is dominated by the olfactory glands.
For any dish to register in my memories, it has to pass the smell test.
Tastes are strongly associated with smells in my culinary memories.
Am not so keen about the visual aspect of it. If it dosen't look good, but smells great, I will have it.
How many times has it happened, that you've had a very tiring day at work - in fact so tiring, that the fact that you are hungry,is overridden by the fact that you are tired.
And in this state, you yourself cannot indentify, that the main reason for this fatigue is lack of food, and not lack of rest.
My grandmom always can identify this case with any of us siblings.
If any of us were being particularly edgy and full of 'kurkur' just before dinner time - she says that 'hunger and sleep have been mixed up in these brats' -
One whiff of a strong tempering (tadka / phodni) with curry leaves or garlic, and the truth dawns on us, that its indeed a good dinner that will fix all kurkur.

( Kurkur is one word in marathi which aptly describes the persistent grumbling due to any sort of discomfort (known or unknown), which is not serious, but irritating enough for the person invloved and those in his/her vicinity)

Ok. I digressed.
This blog is about smells, or rather the lack of them in an event of cold.

Many of our small comforts in a day, come from smells.
A perfectly brewed hot cuppa coffee or tea starts your day on the right note.
The just right bath soap you use, gets you all fresh for the day.
The pleasant smell of your prefume puts you at ease to work with people around.
The smell of coffee in between work, pushes you on for more work.

Am sure there are many more such smells, which put you at ease, and wrap you with a comfortable familiarity.
But with a nasty cold, you feel so left out and un-familiar with the surroundings!

In my average day, my walk to office itself is a riot of pleasant, familiar smells.
I travel by train, and while walking out of the station, familiar smells always greet me.

One is a French pasty shop, from where smell of freshly baked bread whiffs by.

Then there is a shop dedicated to indulgence soaps.Handmade soaps with wild falvors of fruits,flowers,even chocolates!Passing by that shop is almost like passing by an open perfume stall.
Then there is StarBucks coffee, just at the exit of the station. I am no big fan, but I do enjoy the bitter, earthy aroma of coffee, on a cold, wet morning!

With my sense of smell blocked due to cold, I feel like an alien while walking past these shops, who is totally uncapable of understanding these worldly pleasures.

My appetite is linked with smells too.
You see hot steaming rice and dal, with a fiery lemon pickle - but alas!
You can't smell it!
It seems like eating wax or plastic food, and you struggle to break the invisible barrier that stops you from indulging into the olfactory pleasures of your daily lunch!

same is the case with all the comforting beverages served during cold.
Ginger tea?, honey-milk-termeric?, pepper broth?
HUH! Bring them on and I can down them with equal ease!
They are no different to me, as long as the steam coming from the cup finds its way into my nostrils! :-)

You see mum cooking a nice greens curry, with a red-chilly and garlic tadka, or making a mint chutney in a grinder, a sweet pudding with cardamom , even boiling cabbage for some curry - but what the heck!
Its like watching a cookery show! You see it, but nothing reaches you, because you can't smell it!

Not being able to smell is like like being cut off from the main stream for me.
And given the kind of nosey person I am (pun NOT intended),
this surely is a big punishment! ;-)

Just can't stop giggling

2006-12-13T08:39:00.000-08:00

Yesterday - C told me a funny incident involving his cousins.

We both were watching funny videos on the net, and there is this old one, where 2 roomies are at an electric point (a switch board) in a room. Guess its evening or something, coz both the guys are sleepy looking and dishevelled.
One is trying to fix something with a screwdriver, and the other one is holding a torch in one hand to aid his friend a work, while eating a banana in the other hand.
Suddenly the friend with the screwdriver starts shouting and twitching, holding the screwdriver in both the hands, as if he is recieving a nasty electric shock.
Paniced, the banana-eating friend also joins in while jogging in his own place and shouting, genuinely terrified.
This is when the screwdriver friend bursts out laughing and the banana eating friend shoves the half eaten banana in his face saying something not-so-good. :-)
The video is hardly a minute long, and watching it first time made me burst out laughing in the office.
Everytime I remember it, I can't stop giggling.

After watching the video, C told about his cousins A and B.
A was a teenager then, and B a toddler.
On a particularly busy family day, A and B both happened to be in the same room. B - being his cute and chubby self, spread his arms at the sight of A, and asked for a quick lift. A, being pleased with this affectionate gesture, lifted B, did a quick fervent jig and let out a scream only to drop B back to the floor.
It had so happened that B was holding a pair of scissors - and was contemplating to put them in a plug point. Being a toddler, he lacked the height to reach the socket. As soon as A lifted him, B seized the golden opportunity and plunged the scissor in the socket - resulting in the short comic jig.
No one filmed it at that time, but am sure (with all due concern to safety) it would have made an equally funny video. :-)

Accents

2006-12-09T03:04:00.000-08:00

I've spent enough time in UK, to just be able to distinguish an Irish accent from a Scottish one, and a Scottish accent from a British one and all these from the acquired desi ones ;-)

Me and C, while watching TV , try and spot out these and keep a score. It has made us more keen listeners, and we don't go all 'Sorry?', 'Pardon me?','Eh?', 'Huh?', 'What?', '??!!!' while interacting with the local people as much as we did when we arrived here ;-)
We have even picked up some slang as well, or the style in which ppl here speak - with a 'ya?' at the end ;-) 'Going home ya?', 'you reach the Liverpool stn ya?, then turn rt, ya?' . And the more recent 'mate'. We chat in office with a purposeful 'mate' at the end of every single conversation.
'Cheers mate'
'cya mate'
'how u doin mate?'
'shut up mate' ;-)

The desi accents ..esp for the lot like us, who arrive with english which is all mixed up with our regional accents. There is 'Marathi English' which has all the words rounded and pronounced till the last alphabet, without heeding the subtulity of an english word. Then there is 'Andhra English' where all words end with an extra 'u' or an extra 'a' at the end. Then there is 'Tamil English' which has a lull for every word to resonate it like a tamil word, there is 'Mallu English' which is as hard to get as is actual mallu :-) Then there are numerous north indian accents which are almost like speaking hindi, rather than english.
Watch Russell Peter doing how desis speak english - howlarious! :-)

And then once arrived, we try and blend our regional english with the local one here, and in an effort to be more understandable, try to pick the accent here. Sometimes its deliberate, sometimes its a sincere effort, sometimes its an embarassing showoff, sometimes a subconscious twang and its just so funny at times. :-)

English is a beautiful language and shines through all it goes through at the hands (or mouths? ;-) ) of all those who take a go at it. ( Did I mess up the sentence here? ;-) )

Pound A Bowl

2006-11-19T03:43:00.000-08:00

The place where I stay is a small town which has weekend markets with everything from vegetable stalls to celtic jwellery stalls.

I love roaming about in these markets.

The best stalls are ' Pound a Bowl ' stalls.
They sell fresh farm fruits and vegetables.
Bowls of fruits and vegetables are arranged in various bowls of same size, and 2-3 people are busy at each stall.
The variety keeps chnaging with availability and there is always a range to choose from.

Grapes, bananas, pineapples, apples, peaches, plums, pears,oranges, grapefruits, melons,passion fruits, summer berries like strawberries, blackberries,rasberries, cherries,dates and a few more fruits that am still trying to identify :-)

Then there are veggies like aubergines (thats brinjals :-) ),pumkins,radishes, cabbages,tomatoes, cherry tomatoes,shallots, spring onions, carrots, spinach, rocket salad(its some kinda greens),gourds, parnsnips, suedes,okra (bhindi), beans, sprouts,parsley,capsicums,cauliflowers,mushrooms and all that.
At times we find flower boquets, small potted pansies sharing space as well.

The aubergines are the shiniest purple i've seen and the berries are the juciest I have tasted.

One person at the front of the stall will be busy shouting
'Pounda Ball - Pounda Ball ' ( Pound a Bowl) interspersed with a more personal note,
' care for fresh grapes - honey? ' ,
'how'bt these aubergines dah-ling ' for a passing by customer.
One person is behind the make-shift counter managing cash - with
'here's your change -dear',
' a bowl of bananas - ya? ',
'yes sweetheart - whatdaya want?'.
'Thats 2 pounds baby' .
This person can be anyone from a cute little elderly lady to a pimply teenager with spikes . But the dialogue is always same :-)

One person is kinda behind-the-scene , refilling the bowls, emptying the crates, stacking goods in that small makeshift stall.

The places are always merry, the products almost always look clean,healthy and inviting and always appear to be the best bargain. The stalls are never messy, the people at the stalls never snobbish or rude and they all seem very happy to have you at the stall.
The business is always quick and by 5.00 in the evening, the stalls are empty and packed up to leave.

Of the small everyday joys that we look for, this one is on my top-10 (or whatever) list and I make sure that on weekends I tick this one off as 'passed with flying colors' :-)

Saagara Sangamam

2006-11-01T01:33:00.000-08:00

I happened to watch a very good film yesterday, after hearing loads and loads about it from my hubby and his friends.

Saagara Sangamam.Its fantastic. Its fabulous.

And though am still learning telugu, I had absolutely no problem what-so-ever in understanding the film. Its the mind over matter kinda thing. Language is no obstacle for feelings. They can be communicated beyond such boundaries. ( Which incidently I've come to realise very closely. But more on language barriers later - in some other post.)

Its about an unfortunate but gifted classical dancer, who aspires to make it big in the world of art. He refrains from comprising on the form of art, and persues the art of dance in its purest form.
He is noticed and encouraged by a rich lady. She gets him an opportunity to perform at a platform whch would bring him recognition. He is overwhelmed with this, and wants his aged mother to witness this event.But as fate may be, his mother expires and he does not participate in the event.
After this incident, he becomes attached to the lady, who inspires his art. But again fate intervens, and the day he confesses his love, he comes to know that she is married. He sacrifices his love and reunites her with her husband.
He loses a pillar in his life, and becomes an alcoholic. A few years later, fate brings them together, this time when he reviews a dance performance by her daughter.Her husband has expired.
She finds him, and is crushed to see the state he is in.She revives him and gets him to teach her daughter.
He, as a gesture of his gratitude towards all that she did for him, trains her daughter to master the art, and passes away watching her perform, thus preserving the art and making it immortal.

The songs are beautiful. S. P. Balasubramanyam and Ilayaraaja work magic.

JayaPrada looks serenely beautiful. Acts superb. I've never found her so appealing before.
I don't claim that its her best acting effort or something, but I personally liked her a lot in this particular movie.Its a pity what the hindi movies of 80's and 90's did to her. (all those movies with Jeetendra, Dharmendra and the lot- when all were towards the fag end of their careers)

The supporting cast is also very apt. All are humble, normal characters. No one is larger than life. No one is over the top. Even the small anount of humour here n there in the film is refreshing, and not out of place.
I find these things quite appealing in films.

And now the main protagonist of the film. Kamal Hasan.
I find him extremely methodical and in this film, a perfectionist.
He potrays a gifted classical dancer, and gifted classical dancer he is.
Its a treat watching him on the screen. The dance sequences are lovely.
The way he acts is just superb. You find yourself riding the waves of emotions as he walks us through the film.
There is no melodrama, no extreme emotions or heartwrenching dialogues. The simplicity of it all suffices to make tears flow.

I have a very gawdy impression of south indian movies (Tamil & Telugu), especially the recent ones. Extreme emotion, extreme action, extreme romance,heavy dialogues, heavy heroines ;-) .
One reason for it can be the gawdy remakes that end up in Bollywood. I find them very crude.

But with movies like Sagara Sangamam,Rudraveena, SankaraBharanam, even Chitram Bhalare Wichitram, that impression is definitely altered. There are more such gems, and I would definitely like to view as many as possible.

Regression Testing

2006-10-26T06:39:00.000-07:00

Well, most of you in IT out there know what we call Regression Testing:
One of the many definitions is here: ( courtesy webopedia.com)
Regression Testing:
The selective retesting of a software system that has been modified to ensure that any bugs have been fixed and that no other previously working functions have failed as a result of the reparations and that newly added features have not created problems with previous versions of the software. Also referred to as verification testing, regression testing is initiated after a programmer has attempted to fix a recognized problem or has added source code to a program that may have inadvertently introduced errors. It is a quality control measure to ensure that the newly modified code still complies with its specified requirements and that unmodified code has not been affected by the maintenance activity.

Lets not get into the technicalities.

I was reminded of this term when I was watching a promo for some soap (which will definitely continue for generations together) to be coming up (or already running?) on a very popular channel.
Here are a few of the promos:

1. A kurta clad grandpa is on the beach with his 2 grandchildren. He pampers his grandson and the granddaughter is shown all crushed, as a pitiful score plays in the background and the lil gal is 'heard' thinking alound something on the lines of '..can't girls also bring pride and fame to the family name ......'

2. A couple with their two daughters is at a Durga-Ma temple praying to be blessed with a son, and the 2 small daughters look on. Again the pitiful score, and the elder of the 2 daughters 'thinks' aloud , 'Why are they praying for a son to you Ma, after all you also are somebody's daughter'

3. A daughter prances into the living room with her result sheet, and announces her plans to study further. Promptly the parents declare their wedding plans for her saying they can't afford spending more on her education. Soon after her brother comes with his results, and he is gifted with bike keys - the pitiful score and a sullen looking daughter.

There are more such gems .. but puhleeez whats going on? Soaps sell and there are buyers for it, but to what extent would one go to churn out forthy stuff like this?

There is one more such outrageous soap where the prim trim and spic n span attired dulhan is unaccepted and toutured at her sasural and not favored by her husband for being.. hold your breath - illiterate! WHOA! Whats that!!!!!!!!

( I mean had she just spent one tenth of her time attending evening schools than doing the rounds at the parlour and spending countless hours day dreaming about her would-be-who-won't-accept-her)

Vampish sis-in-laws and conspiring daughter-in-laws, coy chachijis and orthodox bas almost seem welcome after such regressing themes!

Unable to make out any logic out of such themes ( I know I should not even bother with the 'L' of logic when dealing with these things) - I tag them as a way of regression testing the society.

There were ( and still are) bugs like discrimination and treating women as weaklings in society since a long long time. Even in the 21st century, efforts are still on to fix them as much as possible.
And now we are doing a round of regression testing using these themes as test cases. If people are not getting outraged at it - bug fix failed. If outraged and bewildered - bug fix is a resounding success!!!!
So try and get as many people as possible outraged and that will get you closer to fix the bug somehow.

I know its quite corny a statement and quite poor a comparison- but I just felt hapless looking at the promos!
You can say its an attempt to make sense out of the senseless!

2 of 6 Rule by Scott Adams

2006-10-19T10:21:00.001-07:00

I came across a post on another blog, which quoted Scott Adams' observation about comics being funny.

Since it involves both my favourites - Bill Waterson ( C n H) and Scott Adams (Dilbert),
am posting it here as - is, with due credit to Kunal - from whose post I came across this piece by Scott Adams' :

Kunal wrote:

"......And while we are on Calvin & Hobbes, take a look at this post by Dilbert creator Scott Adams in which he disects the humour in C & H. "

And then he put Scott Adams' Quote:
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The core of humor is what I call the 2-of-6 rule. In order for something to be funny, you need at least two of the following elements:
Cute (as in kids and animals)
Naughty
Bizarre
Clever
Recognizable (You’ve been there)
Cruel
I invented this rule, but you can check for yourself that whenever something is funny it follows the rule. And when something isn’t, it doesn’t. One of the reasons comics are such a popular form of humor is that they often get the cute part automatically. Calvin and Hobbes is widely considered the best comic ever, but the few times it featured the parents doing the main action, it fell flat. Whenever it combined Calvin and Hobbes (both exceedingly cute), with some witty dialog (clever), a dangerous wagon ride (cruel), Calvin acting like a typical kid (recognizable), and thinking about adult philosophy (bizarre) it fired on 5-of-6 humor elements, which is virtually unheard of.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thinking of it, this is sooooo very true!

Breakfast Time!

2006-09-17T13:18:00.000-07:00

While watching a Tropicana Juice Ad, I noticed the song that plays in the background..for the first time.
Its the Dean Martin (with Helen O'Conolle) track and its soooooooo cute!

Here is how it goes..

(H) How do you like your eggs in the morning
(D) I like mine with a kiss
(H) Boiled or fried
(D) I'm satisfied as long as I get my kiss

(H) How do you like your toast in the morning
(D) I like mine with a hug
(H) Dark or light
(D) the world's all right as long as I get my hug

(D) I've got to have my love in the morning
(H) Or the rest of my day is positively mayhem
(D) I'm a regular monster

(H) How do you like your eggs in the morning
(D) I like mine with a kiss
(H) Up or down
(D) I'll never frown eggs can be almost bliss
(D) Just as long as I get my kiss

A lovely way to start the day.. ain't it?
Have a gr8 day ahead! :-)

PS: I've just made another discovery ..Dean Martin rocks! The lyrics to most of his songs is very simple and very very sweet! Wish I had bothered to notice earlier.

Sant Kabeer

2006-09-15T00:57:00.000-07:00

I picked a few of these on the net: (courtesy Shayri.com)

I love the pieces which are uncomplicated to read but have a profund meaning..
Rather than those which have profound (almost 10 pound heavy) words AND profund meanings! :-)

Sant Kabeer ke dohe ..these are eternal masterpieces epitomising the humble yet unmatchable genius of this earthy saint!
The wisdom in these words says everything.

I have tried to translate the dohas ( verses) in english.

Dukh mein simran sab karen, sukh mein karay na koye
Jo sukh mein simran karay, to dukh kahay hoye
( Every one remembers Him at the time of grief, but not in happiness.
If one remembers Him through happiness, grief will never be! )

Jaise til mein tail hai, jyon chakmak mein aag,
Tera saayin tujh mein hai, tu jaag sake to jaag.
( The way sesame seeds have oil in them, and stones can spark fire,
Your God (strength?) lies withing you, awaken it if you can! )

Dheere dheere ray mana dheeray sub kuch hoye,
Maali sainche sau ghada, ritu aaye phal hoye.
(Keep patience oh mind, and every thing will happen,
The Gardener waters with 100 pitchers, but fruits bear only when the season comes!)

Kabira Khada bazaar mein maange sub ki khair
Na kahu se dosti na kahu se bair.
(Kabeer stands (at the market) and prays for everyone's well being.
No one is a friend neither is anyone an enemy)

Bura jo dekhan mein chala, bura na milya koi,
Jo maan khoja aapna to mujh say bura na koi
(When I started to seek evil outside, I didn't find any,
But when I looked within, there was no greater evil than myself! )

Aisee vani boliye, man ka aapa khoye,
Apna taan sheetal kare, auran ko sukh hoye.
(Speak a tongue which loses one's self,
The speaker is at peace and also pleases others.)

Jaati na poocho saadhu ki, pooch lijiye gyaan
Mol karo talwar ki padi rehen jo mayaan.
(Don't seek a wise man's caste, seek his wisdom,
Value a sword and not its sheath.)

PS: Pls don't mind my lousy translations, no other language can match the exact meaning.

Des Mere..

2006-09-14T09:18:00.000-07:00

As corny as it may sound.. when you are away from India, you don't feel homesick .. you feel homeland-sick!

I see the dull grey rains in London, on streets crowded with people and the way it contrasts a rainy day in India (anywhere in India these days!) hits me hard.

Here it hardly pours when you are out in the open. It pours late night, early morning, may be at an odd hour in the day when you are in office .. but never at the time when you are in the open.

Well.. if you are out on a not-so-sunny-day weekend, then it might rain in all possible ways.. drizzles, downpour, showers etc etc.. but not long enought to leave you like a wet puppy shivering its way to the shelter!

Coming back to the weekedays, in Liverpool Strt atleast..you are hardly in the open. The rail station is as prim as a mall, ( infact .. it IS a mall. 3 storeyed, with range of things from hot pasties to branded vest -n-bow tie suits..you get everything!) and it dosen't leak.
The moment your train enters the station, till you leave the station, you are covered.

You have a walkway which leads you to a road, and it has a metal canopy all the way.. so even if you do leave the station, it takes a couple of mins to get into the open. The moment the canopy ends, well dressed office goers (and thats the mildest version of it.. Londoners dressed for office are a show! Just amazing variety of formal clothes, shoes, bags..even umbrellas! ) open their umbrellas and dash to the nearest building, which mazes through the streets and leads you to your building without getting you drenched!
At the reception, you have carpets almost all over, and "slippery floor" boards propped up. ;-)You have a plastic-cover dispenser for your umbrellas.
There's hardly a soul around who is wet enough to testify the rains outside!

When I finally reach my desk in the office, I think of a(n) (average .. not the hell raising kinda rainy) rainy day in India. You leave with a raincoat / umbrella, which hardly helps. By the time you get into the bus, your feet are wet and pink. The umbrella is dripping with water. You avoid a window seat because water trickles on the seat. People in the bus avoid you because they don't want a wet cat next to them. :-)

You look out on the road, and there are vehicles shining bright with the unpaid-uncalled-for wash they'd just had. They whoosh through puddles of water.
Tiny raincoat clad figures tow with their hurrying parents.
Mummy-types ladies gently lift their sarees a a wee bit to avoid them from sloshing in the puddles, and balance an office bag at the shoulder.
Cycle-wallas with colorful polythene bags covering their heads and tucked behind their ears, appear to be floating on the waters.
Police-mamas with bright yellow raincoats try to make sense out of the mad traffic.
A scooter which refuses to start is cursed and kicked by its owner.
Youngsters don't give a damn to the rains and soak up.
A few shivering souls wait at covered bus stops, under trees, in front of shops.
A few crows shake themselves free of water every few mins on the cables running overhead.
Pavements are shining, trees have a new shade of green...
It seems like there is a different world attached with each of this scene. The city is so alive!

As you shiver with the cool breeze, you look forward to reaching home, to a steaming cup of tea, you look forward to tucking your feet underneath you and curling up in the sofa, discussing mundane stuff with family as everyone arrives home one by one with a different rain that soaked them up! :-)

As the warm picture of a family returning home floats in your mind, there is a lump in your throat and you actually long to get drenched in that rain that falls in India!

New Looks

2006-09-04T07:08:00.000-07:00

Well, after a long Hibernate Session (pun intended) am back to blog.
And back to blog about food! :-)

First.. let me pay my respect and awe for Google!
There lies a VAST un-explored treasure of all the information you want about averything!
And I have noticed this so many times..
This time Google bowled me over, when I tried searching for a recipe.. for Ukdiche Modak.
( A very lame english name for this can be sweet stuffed rice dumplings! :-S )
And Bingo!
Google asked Did you mean: ukadiche modak ?
Thats really sweet of Google! ;-) :-D

Ok.. that was all that I wanted to write about food in this blog!:-D

As the title says, I am talking about new looks.
Well, I have managed to get my hair cut here in London ! Ta- Da!
(and also managed not to feel guilty about the price I paid for it!)

After weeks of deliberation, resolve, grit and patience I finally managed to take the decision and stick to it till the weekend.
I took an appointment with a well known unisex salon here .. in the commercial capital of London.
I fumbled and tripped my way to the appointment desk, confirmed the appointment and was at the chair for the next process.
After washing and conditioning my hair, this lady asked me in some german accented english if I was sure I wanted to keep them short!

'I loooove long hair, and my husband scold me for little hair' she said.
I was sooooo happie to hear bad english from a firang! ;-)

She had an ubiquitous gujju assistant and she convinced my white hair stylist [ white is for the stylist, not for my hair.. ok? x-( ] that I was Ok with it.
'Are you sure?' she asked me again.
I felt a bit bad about the hair I was going to lose, and asked how the cut will finally look.

The Gujju had no idea of what my white lady had in mind, and asked her to explain.

'I cut, keep layers.'
Then she plucked a strand of my hair.

'This much 1 layer. Then 1 more little big. Then big, big, big. And 3 layer.'
And all the while she plucked strands of my wet hair, and held certain lengths between her fingers, and brandished the scissors in the other hand.

I waited with baited breath, praying that the scissors won't actually rush and do the act before she intended to!

'And near face, small, and back Vee'
At this she formed a 'V' with her hands to show what a 'V' is.
(As if I thought that an alphabet that sounds like 'Vee' in fact does look like a 'B' or a 'T')

'See my hair. Layer, Layer but small. Your layer..big'.
I looked at her hair.. or whatever was left of it.

It was streaked red, with a bunch still retaining the blonde color.
The hair near the face were cut to some decent uniformity on both the sides, but the hair at the back looked like whoever was cutting her hair had remembered an important errand, and had hurried through half of it, and left the rest to 'rest in peace' !

I still had some hope left in me, for a decent hair cut.

I tried to discuss with her that though I wanted my hair short, the shortest I was willing to go was this much and longest I would permit to stay was that much and that I should be able to tie them up when I want without random strands escaping the clips etc etc etc..

At the end of this conversation, we both had a pained expression on our faces .. no one in the hair-salon world understood us!
Sigh!
We had reached a point of 'you-return-but-not-me'.
She was sure the cut she had in mind suited me, and I was sure that I wanted my hair cut but not by her!

'Its ok. Tension maat lena Ma'm. Woh theek karegi' - Gujju assistant came on desi track.

I was not willing to go through the entire process of 'make your mind for a hair cut - break it - make it again - discuss with friends and family - get encouraged by them to go ahead - still think twice about the loss of hair - consult colleagues - make up mind yet again - take an appointment - stick to it' again.

So I left the fate of my hair in the dainty hands of the white lady ( there was nothing lady-like about her though.)

I amused myself at the chair by looking at locks of soft, black, straight, shiny, beautiful hair fall at my feet, (wonder how things that we lose suddenly appear very important and beautiful) by hearing to the snipping of the scissors, the whooshing of sprays and occassional tugs and pulls as the lady bent my head up, down, left, right till the water from my wet hair trickled (and tickled) down my ears, and neck and chin.

I never stole a look at the mirrors which appeared to surround me, almost close in upon me,tempting me to take a look at myself.

'There you are'.
'Beauty!'
My white lady said.

With a beating heart I looked into the mirror.

And almost burst into tears .... of great relief.

She had done a fabulous job.
I was seeing what I wanted to see, and the hair was perfectly the way it was supposed to be!

A wave of warmth and gratitude swept over me.
I beamed at my white lady and exclaimed my happiness and thanked her for a splendid job.
She beamed in return, and the gujju assistant smiled on us.

The hair-salon world had suddenly became a world of harmony, peace and mutual understanding!

In a state of relief and bliss, I boarded the train home, and in the same ethreal state reached home.

My husband waited anxiously for me to produce the bill.
The figure was a relief for him too. He was dreading to see the worst!

So this entire hair-cut, new-look business ended into an happy affair with one and all living happily ever after! (except the hair I lost! )

Iiiishhhh....

2006-04-28T09:14:00.000-07:00

Hold On. before you think its about the Devdas '...ishhhh' song that made Shreya Ghosal the talk of tinsel town.. its not that.

Its about English . Yeah its the 'ish' in english and other words in English that I want to talk about.
I find all the languages very fascinating. If you are speaking with someone, and suddenly you start hearing stuff as a third person and a small thread runs at the back of your mind thinking who decided that a wooden plank with 4 legs will be called table, and when you abruptly blow wind outta your nose, and close your eyes and jerk and wink all at the same time.. that bunch of actions is called a sneeze! You go Wow !!! in that same thread. And another thread starts.. why if we find something amazing, its WOW?? How come everyone in the world understands a WOW? who decided that? Why not ZOZ? why not .......

Ok. More about this language facination in detail, in some other post.

There are words in English. (and I believe the word 'English' as well, for that matter British, Polish, Irish .....)
These words end with 'ish'. Like xyz-ish. And they mean almost xyz. Like xyz. Kinda xyz.
Let me explain.

Sheepish. He smiled a sheepish smile....
Foolish. All knew his act was foolish..
Devilish. A devilish grin spread on his face..
(I am not sure if Sheepish means like a sheep.. but imagining a sheepish smile, and a sheep smiling.. kinda strikes a parallel.. ;-) )
Foolish definitely means like a fool, and devilish means like a devil. So when 'ish' is there, as in xyz-ish, then it might mean one of these: not exactly xyz, but like xyz, kinda xyz ..Ok I said that already.

In my college days, I came to know what a powerful thing this 'ish' is. And it was so very Okayish to use this ish in every possible bit of conversation.
English never generically gave these words for us to use, but we can pass some of these with the exact flavor that we want , to convey our message.
See these:

....The dress I bought the outher day is pinkish with a satinish feel...
( So I understand that the dress is kinda pink, but NOT pink per say and its feel is kinda satin but not satin per say! Perfect! )

..Ok then . See you there at sevenish today evening.
(So I understand that we are meeting aound 7, but definitely not at 7.00 )

The film was OK ish you know..
(So I understand that the film was not exactly okay, but pretty close to being okay! )

.... see that. That darkish lady with a roundish face? ...
(I think by now even you all got the hang of it, lady who is not exactly dark, but neither fair, and she has a face that is not exaclty round, but very close to round! )

We already have accepted words around like hellish (like hell) , bullish (like bull) and all.
But improvising with all possible adjectives and creating superlatives degrees of description with just 3 simple letters! thatz kinda greatish.

Well.. thats all about the post. Wanted to put this on paper (or in print you can say) atleast once. And am glad I did! :-)

Love...

2006-04-08T07:22:00.000-07:00

he sees her in the garden,
and his heart skips a beat..
not a word he speaks, not a gesture he makes..
we know thats how they met,
all they know is LOVE..

she sees him at the grounds,
and the chains at his feet...
not an eyelid she bats, not a gasp she utters..
we know she knows the truth..
all they know is LOVE..

he sees her at the court,
and his heart fills with joy..
not a verdict he hears, no fear he feels..
we know he is guilty..
all they know is LOVE..

she sees him near the van,
and pain flows from her eyes..
not a word they speak, not a hug they share..
we know court gave him life,
all they know is LOVE..

he sees her standing there,
and knows she trusts he is true,
not a thing he desires, no justice he heeds..
we know he is wronged,
all they know is LOVE..

she sees them take him away,
and her world ceases to exist..
not a word she speaks, not a tear she sheds..
we know she is in shock,
all they know is LOVE..

he sees her collapse to the ground,
and knows its time to go..
no pain he feels, no wishes he has..
we know they are no more,
all they know is LOVE...

she awaits him at the garden,
and her heart skips a beat..
not a moment they are apart, no force keeps them away..
we know souls meet in heaven,
all they know is LOVE..

-Snehal

(phew! that was pretty melanchony..once and for all i guess.. these kinda poems are hard to write.. :-) )

Series Nostalgia 2: Books and things they bring with them..

2006-03-31T10:52:00.000-08:00

I came across this lovely post Memories of Calcutta Book Fair by Arnab of greatbong and was really amazed by the number of parallels I could draw between what he said in the blog and what I have to say about my rendezvous with books.
I come from the beautiful and now-a-days-much-talked-about (for the right reasons like being touted as a pro-IT space to consider) city of Pune, which is teemed as the educational and cultural capital of Maharashtra.. (in the lines of Surat being the Manchester of India, Pune is Oxford of India..)

Pune hosts and nurtures a lot of activities pertaining to art, literature, music.. The one which we frequented initially with our parents when we were too young and ignorant to enjoy it , and later made regular and dedicated trips with friends, was Sawai Gandharva. It's a musical fiesta , a musical festival of hindustani classical and is an absolute delight. Winter nights, filled with classical extravaganza coming from the greatest themselves, few 'your-kinda' friends, bitting cold, steaming (watery) coffee in hands .. it is pure magic.
ok. But the topic was about book fairs. Pune has lots of them.My parents always ensured that I got more than my fair share of books to read. Mom used to bring home books (mostly marathi books of renowned authors, and translations of english classics) regularly from her office library and used to hand them over to me ..I still remember the sheer delight of recieving the huge marathi translation of Louisa May Alcott's Little Women by none other than the veteran Shanta Shelke. Reading the un-abridged classic later is another cherished memory.I love huge books. One reason is that I can enjoy reading more, for a longer time. With books that are really interesting but never cross 200 pages.. am kinda disappointed. Ruminating over a book you loved is one thing, but the process of reading it is a different pleasure. And with lesser pages, its a short lived joy.
Dad used to frequent book fairs and public libraries. On thursdays (which was his weekly holiday) we both used to ride down to Gokhale hall library.
Its an old library and the striking memory I carry about it is the wooden staircase, the pin-drop silence, ocassional shuffling of news papers, the echoes of the sound of wooden chairs being pushed back on wooden flooring, as an ocassional few would get up from the reading area and leave.
In the huge balcony, there would be wooden stands, each one carrying 2 news papers on either side. The paper would be put opened up at the center with a wooden plank running at the vertical central fold, so that people can stand in front of these stands and browse through one newspaper at a time.Inside the library, there were wooden chairs around wooden tables, and few chairs with a foldable book-rest. I used to wait to get one such chair. It was a novelty at that time.
Near the librarian's desk, there used to be a basket with magzines. Some times a stack of old Reader's Digest, and children's comics. (Till I came across japanese Manga, I used to think comics are always children's comics.. Not anymore)
I used to spend some minutes deciding which book to pick. If the lady behind the desk didn't object with a 'ssshuk, ssshuk..' I would pick up 2-3 at a time and sit at my choosen chair. The purpose of getting 2-3 books was two-fold. One, I didn't want to lose my chair, and another, I didn't want to lose my choosen books! :-)
I used to get totally absorbed in reading or browsing through the books. Suddenly I would remember that I am here with my dad, and frantically look around for him.
He generally would be at the balcony, or at the table with some magzine.
The silence at the library always induced an urge to disrupt it. :-) I would trot around dragging my feet to make as much noise as I could dare. I would hop in and out of the chair. I would call for my dad from the balcony. But one disapproving look from my dad, and I would be back to reading books. :-)
Ok. I remember I started with book fairs.
The most common ones were at the Acharya Atre Sabhaghruha, and at the Institute Of Engineers.
Atre Sabhagruha was very near to my mom's office. When there was a book fair, I used to be with dad. Atre sabhagruha is a small hall. Tables were put against the 4 walls and a few at the center of the hall. Mostly it would be marathi books and sometimes english as well. Rasik Sahitya, Navaneet Prakashan are the few publications I remember.I never bought marathi books when I was in school. I read a lot of them though. Thanks to the wonderful library my school had. My dad did buy me books about making sketches, painting, origami.. all the self help kinda books. And dictionaries. Lots of them. Oxford, Random house, Webster, Orient-Longman..
Institute of Engineers hosted bigger fairs. And had many national and international publications.When I was too young to really decide what I enjoyed reading more, the visual appeal of the books fascinated me.I used to love going through the encyclopedia - ChildCraft, WorlBooks. And the glossy hardbound books about wildlife photography.
And the biographies which had photographs interspersed between chapters.. clubbing together an era about the person's life. I used to look for these pages and just browse through all the photos.
The books about body building also interested me. :-D
Especially women body builders- there never used be any indian ladies.. all firang ones.. I found that quite amusing..and wierd.
I used to look for children's books which had pop-up pictures-the fairytale books definitely had these. And bedtime story books with lots of pictures.
I even used to thumb through the books teaching alphabets.. just for the pictures in it.
Books about ikebana, interior decoration, gardening, a book which had step by step pictorial instructions about the sailor knots .. I used to devour them all at the fair.
I never bothered about the content, the print. It was just pictures.
Later, when the words started interesting me more than the pictures, I would look for the size of the print.Generally Enid Blyton's books used to fit this bill. I adored her at one point. So much so that in my school years I internalised her work ;-) and my english teacher warned me to write more original stuff in essays and comprehensions! :-)
Archies comics was one more craze.Dad never encouraged comics. So buying any was out of question. I used to stand and read as many as possible. :-)
Somehow, the books my dad or mom got for me .. were the ones I used to love the most.. (till one point of time ofcourse.. :-) ). Dad, on one of his trips , got me a collection of Aesop's Fables. I loved it.. so much so that I had the tattered book with me till a few yrs ago. It had short stories (and a moral at the end, which I never bothered to read), generally depicting animals, birds, even insects at times, which spoke, discussed stuff, thought etc etc. It was all very fascinating to read.I read that book over and over again.. (and then the morals too started getting more meaningful and profund, for the short stories).
A few years down the lane, I started picking books on my own. My best friend, is an avid book worm.. and she led me into the wonderful world of books. She has very positively influenced my reading likes and dislikes.. in fact she introduced me to a lot of classics, which was a teritory I was kinda apprehencive to tread. I started with abridged versions .. Emma, Rebecca, Jane Iyre, Prisoner of Zenda, Tale of two Cities, Pride and Prejudice, Mill on the floss, Silas Marner, Adam Bede, Wuthering Heights, Oliver Twist, Great Expectations, Three Musketeers, Kim, Ivanove, Around the world in Eighty days..a huge assorted spree of book reading! Science fictions..War of the Worlds, Time Machine, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea (not sure how many Leagues actually) , Journey to the center of the Earth..Issac Assimov short stories (LAter was hooked to the Foundation Series) , Mr Jayant Naralikar, Niranjan Ghate, Arun Sadhu (marathi authors)there was a whole new world opened up!
There used to be trivial reading as well.. 1 famous character was Faster Phene. We enjoyed reading it.. my book-worm friend and me used to buy these books too!
After a few more yrs, I started experimenting with different books. If I heard an author being discussed too often, I would make a point to read at least 2-3 books of that author, till I could decide for myself if I really enjoyed reading him/ her or not.
I used to pick books from British Council Library at random, and give it a try. One such book I picked during my engg days was by Sylvia Nasar. Nope, the author dosen't ring a bell I guess, but the title of the book does.. Its 'A Beautiful Mind' , biography of Mr. John Nash. And this was way before Russell Crowe's movie.
There were times when we read books bcoz they were 'in' :-). In my high school days, books like 'Brief History of Time' , 'Dancing woo-li principles','Zen and the art of Motorcycle Maintainance', many of the Alvin Toffler books ('Future Shock', 'The Third Wave' ) were kinda 'hot'.
Being able to discuss them, thrash or appreciate them was kinda cool. :-)
So we all made it a point to read them.
Then came a time where all these contemporary fiction authors were read a lot. (Not sure what catergory to fit them into). Sidney Sheldon (read 2 , 3 books and never touched another book by him..), Aurthur Hailey, John Grisham, Jefferry Archer, Robin cook, Stephen King, Ayn Rand and all that. Some books were really good, some just passed the muster.
Then came again a classics wave. This time it was un-abridged versions. Jane Austen rode the wave. :-) It was more enjoyable, to delve into finer aspects of english.
P. G Woodehouse was 1 more such wave. You can never find another genius like him!

The journey continues.. there are tonnes of more books to read, and a life - time isn't enough to read them all.

These days, with work demanding more time, books are a bit side stepped.. but they can never go out. I am into picking up random titles these days. Cheaper by the dozen, Catch 22, Beloved, Surely You'er Joking Mr. Feynman, To Sir with Love.. just pick a well praised book and finish it off.
Each book gives a different pleasure to read. And the search for more continues...

P.S. My friend S mentioned quite rightly that I didn't mention dear ole Calvin and Hobbes!
Well rightly noted. Comics - Calvin and Hobbes, Calvin and Hobbes - Comics. Thats the equation for us! Bill Waterson gets all the kudos and bows and bravos for such an amazing creation!

London London

2006-03-22T08:36:00.000-08:00

On a Sunday, windy and bright,
we all set out to see a sight.
A splendid show was on the cards,
They call it the Change of Guards.

Braving the winds with scarves and sweaters,
we then joined all the eager spectators.
People leaned against the barricade,
And the crowd waited for the parade.

They pressed their noses against the gates,
And caught a glimpse of the soldier mates.
The gaurds marched and then stood still,
Cameras clicked in the wind that was chill.

And then came a ringing sound,
as the royal gaurds marched around.
Flutes, drums and cymbals in the band,
indeed made the march quite grand.

Grey uniforms and black fur caps,
shiny shoes in harmonious raps,
togehter they marched, not one flaw,
the crowd stood still and watched in awe.

One gaurd amongst all those,
had a sharp and pinched little nose,
and with all the frills and stashes,
he also wore a pair of glasses!

The royal band and the drums,
In my mind the tune still hums,
but the picture that it always pecks,
is 'The Bobby who marched with specs!'

Food For Thought

2006-03-15T10:27:00.000-08:00

There are times when you feel like writing after you read something well written by somebody.
Thats how this blog started..
And to keep my blogging instinct alive, I read blogs.
If they are really appealing, I'm inspired to write.
If they aren't, am inspired to write, better.
But its all individual perspective. What I call better, might be worse for some.
But then one who blogs should not bother about all this, after all there are always two sides of a coin.

OK. The above lines were what popped out of my mind (pun intended) in the few moments I took to decide that I did want to blog today.

I have come across some really good Food realted blogs, and find their efforts commendable.

And there is this strange thing, if am hungry, I feel like reading these blogs: they serve like an appetiser.With all interesting pictures, interesting receipes, and interesting anecdotes along with it.

I have always enjoyed food. [ those who know me, pls don't give those wide-spread grins.. :-) ]

Am not fussy about food, but neither am a hearty food-lover.
I like to try different stuff (preferably veg), and I like to experiment in the kitchen.
I am not fond of cooking, but I don't hate it..
I enjoy my daily cooking routine (...yes ppl-who-know-me , I do manage to cook and feed a couple of mouths daily, twice! )
And once in a while, I can flip through some cook book, or website, or even a TV show and try to make something new.
So that's what brings me back to the food blogs.
I appreciate the efforts these people put to jot down their cooking experiences, delve into the finer aspects of ingredients,bother to click step by step snaps of their preperations, experiment with the mundane to whip up something new and in general celebrate food and cooking.

I love to read what experts, critics, anyone passionate and knowledgible about food has to say about food and related things.
Be it a wine taster telling about what cheese goes well with what wine and why, or be it a sugarcane juice walla telling why adding an extra dash of lemon to the sugarcane juice makes it better than the rest.

I love the language that describes food.
Its amazing how a few words convey a whole new world of tastes and aromas..

A blob of butter is different from a dollop of butter,
drizzling your fruit dish with honey isn't same as dressing it lightly with honey,
and a kiss of sugar dosen't draw any parellels with a pinch of salt. :-)

All those mouth-watering perfect descriptions which almost let you taste and smell the dish... wow.. that's some really beautiful use of words! :-)

I have noticed that I don't really mind watching TV shows on cooking.
I love the neatly arranged, spic-n-span kitchen.
The cutlery, crockery being used, the fabulous display of ingredients;
its nice to see how everything from a mandoline to an indoor grill is at-hand for the hosts.
Its a happy sight to see the dish take its shape, size, color ,flavor and aroma.
Its beautiful to see the finally done and decorated dish, with garnishing et-al.

I think these things related to food click because people invloved relish it.
They enjoy the entire process and not just the end results.
They appreciate, acknowledge and understand the art involved in cooking.
That makes it a real special serving....what say?

Change

2006-02-14T07:42:00.000-08:00

After some time of hibernation, am back to not-so-frequent blogging.

There has been some change in my routine, surroundings,behaviour (to some extent, and for a short time I guess) and am taking my own sweet (but limited) time to adjust to it.
I have relocated to a foreign land, to a new work place , for a new client, for sometime, and am trying get back to normal routine.
There are ppl with diffrent looks, diffrent accents, diffrent attitudes, diffrent work-culture around me, and am trying to blend with them.
They aren't good or bad (coz its too early for me to judge them), they'er just diffrent.

I am trying to change a few of my old habits, to be in sync with these ppl.
I am waking up early, I am eating good healthy food; on time, am travelling on my own to my work plc, I am trying to keep appointments, trying to be very particular about the way I dress, I speak, I carry myself. Am trying to spare time for myself too, and re-establishing my contacts with friends, as my co-ordinates have suddenly changed.
Some of these things I never did before, though they were essential. This change has helped me pick them up.

Change is good. Change keeps you on your toes-atleast for sometime.
After a period of getting used to something, change is unsettling at the beginning and welcome afterwards.
You look forward to get over the unsettling phase, as early as possible, as seamlessly as possible, so that you can settle with the change. In the process you give away some baggages, pick up some, and re-mould yourself.

Change keeps you going. Some people consciously, some sub-consciously look for change.It gives a new perspective, a new dimension, a new outlook. [ not MS Outlook, you IT geek!]

Am looking forward to settle with this new change, and in the process explore the world - both inside and outside me, a bit further.

PS: Happie Valentine's Day!
It never harms to have little occassions to be explicit about certain implicit emotions.. wot say? :-)

Why?

2006-01-13T00:10:00.000-08:00

There are certain things that I fail to understand....

Due to the series of unfortunate events happening all over the world, I've noticed this one thing, and am unable to comprehend with it..

Why are images of all the pain, all the suffering, all the ruins, all the anguish, all the trauma with their minute and very disturbing details splashed across by the media in print and television?
Conveying the magnitude of the misfortune and the extent of damage is one thing.. but things stretch far beyond that at some places..
Starving, frail, sick, dying kids; distressed,shelterless, helpless, desparate old people; mangled,ruined,disfigured bodies, strewn carcasses, extreme close ups of a screaming mother who has lost her kid, a heart broken father beating his chest for losing his young son to terrorism..
Images that intrude the most intimate sorrows of someone's life, images that publicise the pain of the sufferers, images that advertise the ruins...

For years we'ev seen these images, as the root causes of all this have strenghtened and our feelings have numbed..
Is this a ghastly attempt to evoke those hardened feelings? Or is it a display of the extent one can go to capture the "actual" story? Is it an attempt to potray the feelings so closely that one gasps and shuts his eyes at the horror of experiencing someone's misfortune at such a close length?
These images do communicate what thousands of words have to say, but is it going a bit too far?

PaaPottu

2005-12-27T21:02:00.000-08:00

We spent a nice and refreshing weekend at Coorg-Madikeri.
With a splendid climate and lovely coffee plantations drowned in mist around, our stay there was nothing short of bliss.
We used to set out on foot early morning, have steaming coffee [Coorg coffee] after a filling breakfast and return to our room, jut to set out again, with our pre-appointed guide, who would drive us to various points around Madikeri and leave us at our hotel by dinner time.

On one such ride back to our hotel, we bumped into PaaPottu.
Now Madikeri is really famous for its coffee, cardamom, pepper, oranges, and ofcourse for local cuisine like Pandhi Curry(Pork Curry), Kadumbuttu (Rice Dumplings), Koli Curry (Chicken Curry), Nool Puttu ( Rice Noodles), Bembla Curry (Bamboo Shoot Curry) ,Votti (Rice Roti) and Paaputtu (Rice cake).

Since we are veggies, the delicious Pandhi and Koli curries were formidable for us. Bembla was out of season. Only options at our disposal were Votti, Kadumbuttu, Nool Puttu and Paaputtu.
Since I now have these names at hand, I can confidently say what is what.
But that wasn't the case when we were in the car with our driver, and we had no handy reference to these names. So what we actuallly ended up asking was
" where do we get to eat puttu nuttu [ that was supposed to be nool puttu] ,
dumkuttu [kadumbuttu],
akki roti [ well rice rotis we did remember , but votti we didn't ]
and the sweet thing made of steamed rice? [ Paaputtu! ] "

In the above words when the query was made to our confused-tired-but-very-very-enthusiastic driver, he braked and skidded and wheeled the car in such frenzy that we feared someting really snapped inside him on the mention of these delicacies.

" Saar.. you want to taste pork? Verrri nice and famous here saar.. local foodda saar.. christmas time.. I can parcel it and deliver to your room.. " he said.
My husband, who wasn't much for the local stuff neways.. gave up immediately.
But I persisited.. " that sweet thing with rice..ottu, otti some thing ..." I said.

And then light dwaned upon him.. " PaaPottu madam.. its not available in hotels.. tomarrow morning, arder deke rakhta mein ek chotta mess hain oodhar.." he promised.

So next morning when we set out again, he stopped the car in a tiny lane, and went inside a tiny looking shed and told someting to a middle-aged lady there. She came out, waved and smiled at us. On our way back, the driver re-visited her. This time she handed a steel plate with a white mass covered with coconut spread evenly, covered with a plastic sheet. She went in and handed 2 sppons as well.
" Its very hot now. let it cool, then cut into squares and eat madam. " she said.
I was very happy to get an authentic madikeri receipe to taste.

Sometime later when we actually tasted it..well.. all I can say is I was disappointed. The stuff was really light and fluffy, but there wasn't anything cake-ish about it. It wasn't even sweet.
But this was for the insiders..
For those who haven't had it.. well do taste Paaputtu when you are in Madikeri!

A Walk In The Rain

2005-12-12T19:43:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was a wonderful evening for me. And Kinda wierd for my husband.

It so happened that I had purchased a splendid pair of splendid all-season shoes, which fitted my feet a bit too splendidly. I wore them to office yesterday, and they splendidly started bitting my feet, the shoes I mean.

It was a cool and misty Bangalore evening and it had just drizzled. I had tried in all possible ways to keep the shoes on, but I just couldn't keep them on.

"Are you okay with those?" asked my husband, as we were about to come out of our tower, to go to the bus-bay.
And that did it.
"NOOOOO" I wailed.
"Then just take those shoes off" he said.
" But this is office, and I don't have any spare pair!" I said.
" Want to try wearing my socks?" he asked. [ I could see an evil grin spreading across his face, as he was enjoying this conversation ]
"No way. I can't wear your socks and the shoes" I said.
" Okie, go ahead then" he said.
So, I took out a neatly folded "health n glow" cover from my purse, and put those biting monsters in it.

At the security check, the guard peeped into the plastic cover, sneaked a look at my feet and then smiled. Mr. Hubby looked at the ceiling [which wasn't there] and then hastily came out.

And then the wonderful walk in the rain began.
My hubby suggested that he would walk a few steps ahead of me [ and by a few steps, I'm sure he meant at-least a mile]
"Nay" I said.
So we proceeded, side by side, towards the bus bay.
People who weren't too busy not to notice us, looked up and smiled.
Some just raised their brows, some grinned, some turned back to confirm.
I smiled back to all of them.
My hubby shrugged his shoulders and made a " I-don't-know-whats-wrong-with-her-but-still" kind of face.
And I trotted on the well mowed lawns of our office premise, first. It was lovely.
Then on the paved path, it was kinda no-that-lovely.
And then on the concrete ground. Which was far-from-lovely.
Then on the red wet earth, which was just ooh-aah-OUCH!
We had to cross over a small road to reach the other side of the office, where the buses were parked.
Once we reached there, I again stepped for a few secs on the wet lawn, and it was bliss!

My feet were all pink and wet and a bit muddy, but I was enjoying the cool breeze, the wet touch of rain on those bruised feet.
My hubby , by now, was growing comfortable with the situation, and was realxing a bit.
"You walked on the grass." he said. " Its lovely." I said.
"I wish I could do that too." he said. And we smiled, together this time.

its raining outside..

2005-12-09T02:21:00.000-08:00

[trying my hand at poetry....]

its raining outside.
constant, pitter patter.
muddy puddles, muddy streams.
colorful umbrellas,greener trees.
some are happy, some are snappy, others move on.

its raining outside.
constant, pitter patter.
some crouch under carts and shiver.
some look up in the rain and smile.
some fuss, some cuss, others move on.

its raining outside.
constant, pitter patter.
pebbles drown with a plonk.
paper boats float across.
some stay, some give away, others move on.

its raining outside.
constant, pitter patter.
slush that clings to your feet.
a rainbow of spilt oil on water.
some wink, some blink, others move on.

its raining outside.
constant, pitter patter.
its the song of life.
for those ears that strive.
some listen, some hear, others move on.

[ .....And am happie with the outcome. ]

To Be or Not To Be?

2005-12-08T00:30:00.000-08:00

To Be or Not To Be HONEST.. is a very very difficult decision.
Its almost tortureous at times.
And lets thank our up-bringings and childhood impressions first, then the world around us today, for this. These two factors generally cook a neat contrast, and make one struggle for simple things in life; like being honest.
For many a decisions we need to make today, we need to make choices, and one of them might invariably be about being honest, or not being honest, to say.

You don't be honest, and you might get a good deal,
you might successfully back-stab someone and move on,
you might enjoy a lil bit of taxfree money,
you might effortlessly get through some selections,
you might distance yourself from the dreaded legal hassles,
you might deceive someone for life without his/her knowledge and still enjoy their association,
you might come clean of some well deserved accusations,
you might avoid giving all those justifications,
you might be politically correct,
you might enjoy a materially rich life, and let others lead the same too..
And all this comes at a very little price, you lose a little peace and a tiny piece of your mind.

Be honest, and what do you get?
A 'pat-on-the-back', a clear conscience and yeah, may be a couple of missed opportunities, a bucks lesser in your purse, and a few lost friends (so-called?). You see a lot of others whizz past you in the race of life. You might get into the self-doubt dilemmas, you might want to regret being on the right path.
And if all's well, you have the peace of mind, and a materially rewarding life too, where all your possesions just trigger pride and bitter sweet memories of the toil that went in acquiring them.
You can meet everyone's gaze and rightfully pass on the baton to those eager to carry it forward.
Surprisingly, there's little to say about the benifits of being honest, but little said, it still stands big. Its more intangible, than tangible I think.

So the confusion still looms, like opting for an ideal investment plan, do I take the short term benifits and be happy, or invest for a bigger cause?

Lets add to this confusion by quoting this, which again boils down to being or not being honest..

Satyam bruyat, priyam bruyat, na bruyat satyam aapriyam..
[ Speak the truth, and speak such that it pleases (others), but don't speak the truth which is not favoured (by others)..]

Brands!

2005-11-30T01:37:00.000-08:00

Well.. just a few thoughts that were triggered by my friend, Sats' comments, abt me trying to advertise for Kodak through my previous blog. :-)
Talk about Brand building. Some brands are so tightly coupled with the products, that a similar product of some other brand also ends up being called by the established brand's name! Some brands just monopolize the market, and are the first ones to be referred for a particular product.
Lemme explain.

DALDA. Yeah, the name which is so very synonymous to any vegetable oil being used in thousands of Indian households. Be it any [ read any brand's] vegetable oil, its almost always called and refered to as DALDA. Now thatz some really serious brand building, say laymen :-)

TINOLPOL. This was a famous bleaching agent esp of the yester years, for clothes, . TINOPOL [Calcofluor White] was made synonymous with the degree of whiteness, to the extent of calling sparkling canines Tinopol white! :-)

CADBURY or DAIRYMILK. This ain't as prevelant as the previous one, but many might agree that generally any bar of chocolate is referred as CADBURY . Esp in the LMC and MC households of India. Also, the ubiquitous DAIRYMILK [ its Cadbury's milk chocolate brand. There are plain chocolate bars offered by Cadbury as well, under Cadbury Bournville ]. Any Cadbury's regular bar in India[as in, not the Temptations and Desserts etc] is referred to as DairyMilk.

KODAK. This can be an example of how effective a product is marketed. Many refer the moments to be cherished or recorded as the Kodak Moments.

RASNA. This soft drink concentrate really ruled [and still rules i guess?] the household sector. Come summer and Rasna was omnipresent in most of the Indian households. Such widespread has been its appeal that you can still come across a housewife asking.. "kya loge? chai, coffee, Rasna? "

AMUL BUTTER. This case is similar to the DALDA case. This breadspread has been so popular,that it almost monopolised the pasturised salted butter market. Even recipes used to refer "100 gm of AMUL Butter.. " :-)

Am adding a few more examples,

XEROX. Its so soooo common to say getting a Xerox, when all one means is getting a photocopy of the original document. Things being identical are synonymous to things being Xerox copies..and that says all about the phenomenal success of the Xerox Office Copiers.
PS: Thanks Manoj, this brand is sooo popular that just slipped outta my mind to consider it as a brand at all! :-)

TETRAPAK. The packaging solution provided by Tetrapak [packaging,processing and aseptic technology] became so popular, that this form of packaging has has introduced the brand itself as the commodity.. "stuff being tetrapacked.. " says it all.

GODREJ. The storewells of this brand have gained huge stronghold in Indian households. And any cupboard with a similar look n feel is fortunate enuff to be called a "Godrej" :-)

VOLVO. A luxury bus with A/C, TV and reclining comfortable seats is called a VOLVO. :-)

BISLERI. Bottled/Packaged drinking/mineral water. Be it anything, all is BISLERI.

BANDAID. be it a bruise or a boil, scrape or a cut, one applies a BandAid. The adhesive bandage brand of Johnson & Johnson really seals shut any other competion.
And there are many which are ubiquitous on the home medication front; Vicks, Crocin, Glycodin, Benadryl, Tiger Balm, Iodex, .. and the list goes on...

Many of these brands hail from the yesters, and have maintained their popularity through the passing years. Some brands were popular once, but now one rarely hears of them. [remember the soft drink GoldSpot? or the mini chocolate bar, Fonda? , the Kismi toffees ?]
The olden days had lesser options and markets weren't flooded with brands and products galore. Some brands sustained the flood and are still enjoying a loyal consumer support. Others will just keep coming, and going too..

Kodak Moments !

2005-11-13T21:43:00.000-08:00

There are certain moments in life, which remain on the canvas of your mind for a long looooong time.

They are not always the moments to cherish; neither are they always spectacular or grand; but still, they stay, as everlasting memories.
These memories aren't always very elaborate or detailed, but they do assume a distinct picture frame, with poingant colors and boundaries.
They aren't like a film being played in your mind, but more like a slide-show.
They are frozen potraits or painitngs in time, but very much alive with their scents, sounds and colors.

And the 'pointers' to these memories aren't always visual.
I mean a certain memory floods into your mind by a familiar smell, by a familiar feeeling, by a familiar sound....

The smell of earth, just before it rains, always triggers memories of summer holidays.
So does the smell of mogra flowers. During summer, these flower vendors would stroll into our lanes after sunset, and the entire lane would be fragrant with that intoxicating smell. We kids would be allowed to be up till late night, and watch the ladies of the house make gajras [small streams of flowers needled into threads] .
The smell of new textbooks reminds me of some 7th or 8th std history textbook with sepia colored picture of Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose [why him of all other leaders that we studied? dunno..]
The sound of cow-bells always reminds me of the mobile-sugarcane-juice-vendors who passed by our lanes selling the cool n sweet juice. The juicer had these bells hooked at one end of its handle.
When ever I get butterflies in my tummy, it reminds me of the first reluctant plunge in water during my swimming classes. [i wonder how many times these swimming classes are going to figure in my blogs! :-D ]
Any mention of the movie, Broken Arrow [John Travolata] triggers a memory-avalanche of my Engg days, esp the submission night-outs, coz during 1 such night out we all had watched this movie on HBO. :-D

I believe that each one of us has his/her own copy of an album; tucked away in some corner of the mind, which treasures such Kodak Moments.
They mean much to us, and invariably surface when the "pointers" pop up!
The best thing is , this album keeps on growing with us, and I believe a time will come when every thing we see, every thing we smell, every thing we touch, evry thing we feel will have its own special memory attached with it, and life will become one beautiful collage of Kodak Moments! :-)

Cheap Thrills?

2005-11-07T02:48:00.000-08:00

While flipping the channels, came across this one on Discovery.
The lives of stunstmen in Indian Cinema.
Most of them were so much like.. us! I mean no hunky figures, no flashy gears, no fans, no media, no camera clicks swarming them.
Many made almost the same picture: boot cuts/ acid washed/ monkey washed pants of some non-brand brand, latest fashioned, but cheaper versions of shirts / Tees , few had gutkha stained teeth, few younger ones had highlighted hair, pierced ears, many had an assortment of dhagas on their wrists;black,red,yellow,saffron, some junk jewels around the neck.. that forced hep look one can say.
The documentary said there were no safety measures/ insurances or other securities in place for these ppl.If somebody was injured, or worse, dead, the family recieved one-time compensation,and the one-time dare devil would be lost in anonimity.

One Mr. Shetty [ i forgot the 1st name..] was being interviewed.
He has been paralysed waist-down, at an active age of 30 smthing.
He met with a fatal accident while rehearsing for a free fall from a helicopter for some movie.
And since it wasn't during the actual shoot, he was denied the liable compensation.
Help was offered for initial rounds of treatment, but now he is on his own. He spoke bitterly about the fame and fortune the actual actors [ lets say heroes ] earned at his cost.

The documentary also showed an action scene being shot, down south. They were using a crude pulley to catapult one of the goons, when the hero hits out at him. As exagerrated as it may sound, the stuntsman was supposed to be lifted off the scene almost 15 feet above the ground, and hurled outside the frame.
The pulley misfuntioned and the stunt went horribly wrong. The stuntsman landed on his back with a thud. He winced in pain, and few of the crew rushed to help. The fall was nasty, but damage wasn't much. Once again the fellow was ready for the shot. This time all went well. There was visible relief on his face.
"darr toh lagta hain, but jaab saab theek hota hain, to majaa ata hain! ", he grinned at the camera.
One reporter who has covered shoots in Hollywood commented that there are safety analysts and stunt experts present at the shoot. Stuntsmen are provided with maximum safety gears and are well covered for injuries and damages incurred during the stunts.
There is a special training school for "risky driving" required for chase sequences or car-actions.
Why don't we have that, I thought. After all, we too have a huge film industry, and all the workers, big or small are entitled to proper training and compensation. This too has something to do with the mass production I guess. "yeh nahin karega toh koi doosra jaroor karega.."

There are a few heroes who do their own action scenes, and earn a full fledged applause for it.
Any mishap during their shoots, big or small, becomes a news and clippings of a wheelchaired hero with his limbs in the cast splash on our TV screens. But a stuntsman, even if he loses his life, never features anywhere.Guess these kinda news don't sell.

While watching the documentary, images of "thrilling" scenes were flashing in my mind.
For us, its a scene that stays in our mind for some time, and vaporises away soon after. Its not even 1/10th of the movie. During a fight scene we hardly bother to give a look or a second thought for the gunda/goon/the likes / or the body double been flug across the screen, crashed into the glass, pushed down a plane,thrown out of a moving train, trampled by a horse, dashed by a car.

Spectators are lost in cheering the hero and are carried away by his antics.
Some of us trash the action scenes for being too much. Too much of blood shed, too much of voilence, "how a movie goer enjoys all this ? All for the masses..Cheap Thrills.." we say.

Namma Bengaluru Namma Hemme..[ Pardon if itz spelt wrong..]

2005-10-26T00:11:00.000-07:00

Hosur Road is Hell. Period.
The title of the article in TOI said it all..
17000 PCU per hr, the traffic in the busier areas on Hosur road crawling at half a km per
hr,500 trucks daily to n fro Tamilnadu, the road dotted with more than 50 IT companies, with
most of them having their own bus services. Numerous people in their own vehicles; cars,
bikes, bicycles.
And we can't forget the pedestraians, peddlers, people waiting for the BMTC
buses, hawkers, cattle and wot not!
Hats off to the traffic police who donned raincoats and gum boots and braved through the
raging traffic and waters to do their precious bit.

Bangalore is making news for all the wrong reasons..
The infrastructure chaos, Mr. Dewagouda's speculations and Mr. Murthy's resignation from BIAL,the not-so-sure-and-eager-any-more investors,the soaring costs of living, the rains, the traffic, the increasing rates of criminal activities; esp directed towards the so-called affulent IT population.. ,you name it, and Bangalore has it on the prowl these days!

No, am not going to rant abt all the woes and sob-stories of being in Bangalore.. [ any more, I mean ]

The rate at which this once beautiful Garden City is deteriorating .. certainly causes a heart ache..

Series 'Nostalgia': 1 School Time

2005-10-21T02:52:00.000-07:00

My primary school was IDEAL! A child's fantasy coming true![ though I never fantasized about a school as a child!]

I was admitted to the school after an interview with the principal. She was an elderly lady by the name Mrs. Srinivasan and asked me a few questions in english. I remember eyeing the small ,intricately carved glass dish with ravalgaon candies in sliver and pink wrappings,on her table.
It has a HUGE red iron gate, and as soon as u enter through the gates, a BIG square play- ground greets you.
At one side of the playground is a big badminton hall block.
[ where we were scared to go because it was kinda dark there, and every small sound you made echoed like anything! It had pegions flocked inside, and even their flights and cooing used to echo! ].
This block is huge, with 2 indoor badminton nets, and a hall with horizontal bar, parallel bars, pommel horse, rings and vault. We were shown documentaries/ movies/ cartoon films/magic shows / presentations here.
The 2nd floor is just an empty dark hall, where ladies used to do yoga and aerobics on saturday and sunday mornings.Above that is terrace, where our principal used to hoist the flag on 26th Jan and 15th Aug.
At right angles to the badminton hall , is the block for KG classes on ground floor, and 1st and 2nd std classes on the 1st and 2nd floors. [ each class has Div A and B ]. Next to this block is the sports storeroom , and then the small room, where we never were allowed, but we assumed one of our peons stayed there and locked children who didn't return to their classes after the big recess was over!
Then the main office, where we used to go with paper slips distributed in envelopes on sports days or annual gatherings, to collect our cash prizes! That corner of the sqaure was open , and we had the back entrance of our school there. There was also a small gym there with huge nylon nets [like those in circus] hanging from the roof.
The 3rd side of the playground had a well equipped gym [ we used to hear the rhythmic "haiyya huppa"s from there in the lunch break , as people in there did their exercises]
And staircases on either sides leading to the 1st and 2nd floors, which had the head mistress's office, and 3rd std and 4th std classes.
This corner of the square too was open, and there was a shed [ as we called it] with a rusty slide [ where everyone from my class had had his/her uniform ripped by the nail-heads protruding on the slide ].
It also had another small palyground there, which was always very shady due to the huge trees lining it.[ but we often treated this as the step-playground, [ like step-mom] because it was smaller, and we thot having shade on the playground was gloomy, unlike the big one which was always very sunny ( read "scorching" ..cause the lunch break used to be around noon time) . ]
Lunch used to be a hurried affair so that one could block the better part of the big playground for their team]
There were also 1 or 2 offices for the swimming tank / playgrounds that were conducted every evening from 5.00 to 6.00 and weren't a part of the school activites.
One had to sign-up for these separately with a monthly fee of 30 Rs or 45 Rs.

There were these wooden tapering vertical poles hoisted in the ground called "mallakhambs" where guys in red/orange underwares / langots used to do various acrobatic exercises.

Opposite to the KG block is the enclosed swimming pool, and a stone well.
There they taught swimming by tying empty tin cans [called dabba] to the learners.
[ I remember being choosey about the color of the tin can I would get, most fo them used to be yellow "dalda" cans and very few were red or blue ]
Later one would graduate to a rope [ they tied 1 end arnd your waist and the other your trainer would hold in his hand and walk the shores, while you splashed frantically in the water along the lenght of the tank.
Post graduation [ which was held ceremoniously at the end of the monthly coaching batch] meant jumping into the well, with a crowd of seniors, and parents as spectators.
[ My parents still cherish the proud memory of how their 10 yr old daughter "jumped the well" without being pushed by her trainer! ]
The school is small, and was walkable from my then house.Most of my playmates were my classmates. We all stayed in the same lane, and either someone's grandpa or grandma, and in case of the more affluent ones, their ayahs would escort the bunch to and fro from school. After we moved from the KG block to the gym block, we were allowed to be on our own.

We all use to register for the evening playgrounds [ called mandals] and used to rush to school by 5.00 in black shorts and white t-shirts.
The 1 hr that followed used to be exercise,a few amature gymnastic tricks like cartwheeling, arching your back, struting on the balance beam; taught by the people who practiced there, 2-3 rounds to the ground, a super charged game of dodge-ball or kho-kho or langadi [ dunno wotz it called in english.. hopping on one leg and chasing others in a confined space.]
Summer vactions would see us in the tank during the afternoons, and at the mandals in the evenings. Getting vaccinated against typhoid / cholera before the swimming classes started was a group activity.
We used to line up in front of the gym, where the doctor used to put up a table, a stove with boiling water to sterelize [ spell-check .. 1.2.3..failed!] the needles , and the vaccine. One by one we used to face the doctor and get the job done. Screaming in pain was cowardly, especially when you were with your friends. Wincing [spell check..] was fine, and smiling was heroic!
I still remember the knot in my stomach as I used to await my turn. After the injection, within 3-4 hrs your hand would swell up and become heavy. We were allowed to skip the evening plagrounds that day! By night time, the pain would become unbearable and we used to hate the swimming classes like anything. The chlorine smell of the tank still reminds me of the swimming classes and the injections....

Outside the school gate, the roadside was lined by small stationary shops and bakeries.
Saturdays were half day schools and we were allowed to skip our lunch boxes and carry 10 Rs to school so that we can treat ourselves with slice cakes, cream-rolls or samosa and patties. There was an automobile-repair shop too , just next to the school. The owner was a huge man with bushy moustaches and used to wear a metal kada in his hand. His hands used to be blackened with all the grease and grime, so much that we used to think he never would be able to clean his hands. He used to pinch our noses with those hands and scare us saying that the black of his hand has rested on our noses forever!

Our old house [ better know as panse wada] is no longer there. We too have moved from the heart of the city to the outskirts now.Most of the playmates have scattered here n there.My beloved Mrs Srinivasan has left for the heavenly abode. The bakery owners have grown old, and some of the bakeries are now "snack centers" and "juice bars". The kada-wala uncle too is nowhere to be seen in the repair shop now..
But my school still stands tall, with all its glory. The blocks are repainted, and the jungle gym is removed , but the school appears as dear as it used to be....

Deja Vu

2005-10-20T03:27:00.000-07:00

The term déjà vu [ also called paramnesia ] is French and means, literally,
"already seen."
Those who have experienced the feeling describe it as an overwhelming sense of familiarity with something that shouldn't be familiar at all. Say, for example, you are traveling to England for the first time. You are touring a cathedral, and suddenly it seems as if you have been in that very spot before. Or maybe you are having dinner with a group of friends, discussing some current political topic, and you have the feeling that you've already experienced this very thing -- same friends, same dinner, same topic.

Humm.. so this is what deja vu is..
Wikipedia sure haz lots more to say..
But lets just take it in layman's term, wihout going in the biological, medical aspects of it all.

Hasn't it happened often, you are amidst a group of friends, someone has cracked a joke, and as everyone is laughing, giving high-fives, suddenly you feel as if you are watching this whole scene as an outsider, and in the scene that is taking place, you kind of know who is going to comment next and what..

Or you are on phone with someone, and while speaking you realise that you had dreamt (or is it the same creepy thing.. Deja Vu?) about this conversation and on afterthoughts ( or should we say fore-thoughts? ) had found such a conversation totally impossible? " Me talking with this person about this? .. impossible.. wot a dream! "

..You are having a routine conversation with mom and BAM! you know what shez going to say next even before she utters it! [ ..nope it ain't abt how predictable / unpredictable moms are! ]

All such incidents have sent chills down my spine.
Even the most trivial, mundane, uninteresting occurrences of Deja Vu..
[ Unlike all the eventful ones in most Bollywood movies; murders,chases, masked faces, haunting places with old mansions,
crooked trees, horrifying discoveries of bodies, weapons, and yeah.. the eternal "barsat ki raat"s ]
[ okie.. am not sure how grammatically correct this use is.. " deja vu happened..", or "deja vu occured" or none of the above! ne-one who is not less sure than me, please oblige with the correct usage]
Even after the consolation that Deja Vu has happened to *almost* everyone around me, my friends, siblings etc etc atleast once, the very fact of pre-experiencing something and re-living it AND having a conscious knowledge of it.. is terrifying.

Deja Vus about unknown places, like temples, or roads you haven't travelled on before are the creepiest of all!
I even had a Deja Vu with my nephew .. simultaneously..(!!?? [ does this word defy the cronology ?] )
I mean what I thought I had experienced before was the same thing that he thought he had experienced before!

This incident really boggled my mind!
Two individuals, with nothing in common, [ apart from the family bondage of-course],
experience the same thing before-hand! *shudder*

What puzzles me is the extent of details! In fact a particular object, or surroundings trigger that "I've seen this before" feeling!
Also what is amazing abt these deja vu's is you recall the familiarity of the incidence, when you are re-living it, unlike the dreams which we have, some of which we recall after waking up, or some we never do but the fog/ghost of a dream always remains in your mind!
And at certain instances, there are dreams which you can watch like a movie, even when you are woken up. It has happened to me sometime.. " 5 more mins mom, sapne mein age kya hota hain dekhna hain! ;-) :-D "
Atleast therez some acceptable[ albeit not totally] justification about dreams that whatever your mind has in its depths, surfaces through some incident in your dreams. [ there are streams of thoughts which don't stand by this explaination]

Wot ever it is that triggers these Deja Vus, I just pray there ain't any spoilers in store for me!
;-D

Sudoku ! yatte miyou..

2005-10-19T01:42:00.000-07:00

Sachin Pilot does it and so do my dad n bro..
The current range in the dailys.. Sudoku.
I tried to distance myself from it for quite sometime.

Especially when ppl around me were really hooked to it.. cause some how I knew that though t'was a daily ritual for them, as soon as I wud try to pry .. they all wud turn into fierce competitors ..

" which level did u try.. EASY? bah!"
" Why are u using a pencil AND an eraser? he he ..*smirk* *snigger* .."
" 3 hrs!!!???.. wot r u doing? ... plzzzz its a CAKE! ..."
" FYI.. page 3 has the solution.."

Some considered giving me a hand.
A paper, a pen and loads of " let-me-show-you-how-to-crack-it" !
" See, this is the thing."
I stare at the 9X9 in front of me...

" This , this and this shud never have the same digits...."
I nod and stare at the vertical , horizontal , diagonal lines slashed in the 9X9

"...and this and this shud have all the digits atleast once. "
Again.. slash slash slash.. I still stare at the 9X9 till the earlier slashes float in a diffrent plain than the newly drawn ones..
[ like those illusions that we recieve thru mails, " if u stare at it long enuff, u can see the dots moving, circles rotating, lines floating, grid changing color .. and if you stare long enuff, your boss can see you all dazed and glazy eyed in front of the screen! "]

"..AND, each of these shud have all the digits .. none shud be repeated.."
I lose my glazy stare which I was concentrating hard to manitain..

" .. and ultimately the BIG picture shud be same as these individual ones.."
I look at the BIG picture in front of me..
slash slash and some more slash, square, dot dot , Big dot , another slash , rrrrip..!!!!
The enthu volunteer has stabbed the paper triumphantly..

"..See.. this is soo damn easy! God .. Sudoku is addictive!.."
I grin at the volunteer to acknowledge the efforts!

Though I didn't get it that time.. it got me finally.
The best thing abt it is you need not calculate and u need not be a math geek or anything .. Sudoku is so math-dud-friendly.
Its fine even if you can't count from 1 to 9 [ see.. not even 1 to 10! ].
In fact the numbers in sudoku ain't treated as numbers at all.. u might as well take 9 different symbols and play it!
Finally a number game without maths! :-D [ so much for an Engg graduate from COEP! ]

I don't think its addictive, because once you get it, its the same all the time.
So never over-do it.
After lazy sundays' monsterous meals, curtains drawn, amidst the content lull , when the rest of the newspaper is devoured..
....a Sudoku each for me n my husband!
That makes a real cozy Sunday afternoon!

Signing off for now,
Snehal

Why "Three Princes of Serendip" ?

2005-10-17T12:52:00.000-07:00

Well.. ..I've accidently been coming across a few very interesting blogs..[ and its been quite a while reading them..]
Every time I came across a new one, I would feel an urge to write one too!
Every time I felt like starting with one.. I wouldn't.. for no reason wot-so-ever..

And when I finally did start one.. I wanted to name it "Serendipity" ..Alas! The domain wasn't available..
[ why Serendipity? ...well..not now.. but I definitely will come up with some "fortunate discovery" abt it..].

The nxt, very obvious step.. was synonyms.. and I came across this in the quest:
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Word History: We are indebted to the English author Horace Walpole for the word serendipity, which he coined in one of the 3,000 or more letters on which his literary reputation primarily rests. In a letter of January 28, 1754, Walpole says that "this discovery, indeed, is almost of that kind which I call Serendipity, a very expressive word." Walpole formed the word on an old name for Sri Lanka, Serendip. He explained that this name was part of the title of "a silly fairy tale, called The Three Princes of Serendip: as their highnesses traveled, they were always making discoveries, by accidents and sagacity, of things which they were not in quest of...."
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Well.. so much in the name of debut!
Hope this leads me to far better discoveries I ain't looking for.. :-D