Last post for this year

I began (in 2010) this blog hoping to get somewhere. It has always been like that. Everything I do has to have some purpose, some destination. Therefore I thought that blogging is not for me when I couldn't get people to look at my blogs. Blogs that I visited had hundreds of followers and comments. So I simply stopped blogging, not that I blogged like crazy. Interesting writing has always caught my attention and that’s how I came across Anuradha Shankar's travel blog "A Wandering Mind". I was blown away, but that which worked the most for me was Maaji's blog "Memories & Musings I & II" like she says she is a grandmother recording her memories for her grandchildren. What beautiful records of the past life. It is the writing part that holds me, beautiful language and clarity of thought and her memories which she is willing to share with the world, not just her family. Other blogs that interest me are "A Travel blog of an Indian Backpacker", Blogeswari, Gappa and others.

For some reason I wanted to read their blogs again and again and eagerly log on every morning hoping to see a new entry. Some of the blogs were lengthy, some just a line or a picture, which helped me understand that asymmetry, haphazard thoughts and confusion also make sense most of the times.  I began blogging, it was clear that realized it everything does not have to have  a purpose , sometimes mindless wandering and rambling also makes sense.

So here's ending this year's last blog by thanking the faceless individuals who helped me in many ways, thank you.  And lastly, HAPPY NEW YEAR. C, ya all next year.

Happy Tidings

For long now I had been waiting for the pigeons to return and lay their egg in our flower pot. Nothing could be wrong at least from my side. I remember when a brethren after years of matrimony was blessed with a child only to lose within a few months and soon again they were blessed with a cute bundle of joy. It was the same feeling. I don't know if it is the same pigeon who lost its egg 3 times before.

Anyway, I had been hearing the pigeons making that weir sound which I associate with procreation and was hoping to see an egg, and voila, Sunday morning there was this  6-pack dad perched on his egg fiercely guarding it. I only pray to the almighty that please let this egg grow into a healthy pigeon, a sign of life, very much needed. Just this Saturday we lost a young friend and it has been weighing down our minds, mom still hasn't come out of the shock and I was in the pits though was very philosophical about it. Seeing this egg was like the "Force" reminding us of the cycle of life nevertheless enforcing my faith in the mysterious ways of nature. Now every morning I check on the egg with the fierce dad getting agitated every time he sees me. It is a great feeling. woooooooow.

 Pigeon Update:  As of today 14/01/12 only one egg survived, primarily because of the crows who kept bothering the pigeons. Anyway today morning we had a surprise waiting for us a yellow & pink fur ball "baby pigeon". I managed to get a few pics. Here they are.

Update as of 22/01/12 on the lone survivor: Since these photos were taken the lone survivor seems to be trying to put up a strong fight only to be defeated last night. I found him squashed this morning. I think it was his parent who squashed it to death. The theory of Natural Selection is at work here.

RIP friend

Living in apartment buildings in one of the many cozy localities in Mumbai is one of a kind experience in itself. and my locality is one such green heaven.  Loads of memories and great people to bond with. If one has spent their whole life in the same apartment building , nothing like it, besides your friends one knows their uncles, aunties, cousins and beyond. It is like a global village. There is always inquiries about all and sundry. There is a sense of camaraderie and this comes to forefront when the occasion demands. When their is a reason to celebrate your neighbour's house is always the extended house where relatives are welcome to stay. In happiness they are family, a moment of sadness,  everyone stands to up to the situation shoulder to shoulder.

Yesterday we lost a a young friend. We grew up together, when our family did not have a TV, d bro and I would be stationed in front of their colour TV to watch chayageet & chitrhar. My first shot at Palakad cuisine was in his house, mamai made fantastic white coloured morokutaan, mami was always the first to wish me on my birthday as they are on the lower floor. Big B, friend and I would saunter off to and form school together. My mama was his favourite, mama had to  call out his name and he would burst out laughing ready to burst, go red and yet he wouldn't stop. He would be giggling forever as long as the mama was around. It was fun. Time flew and the boys grew up spent some time together in spite of varying interests. Boys became men got married and some choose to move on and out. Life was not easy for the friend and his family but they put up a fight. They came over every challenge except death. He collapsed at work never to return. All I remember is his buck teeth and the giggling. Rest in peace my friend for your name shall live to remind us of you.

Sach ka samna... face the truth

Sach ka samna... face the truth, is a reality show which many a people's imagination when it was first aired in 2009 on Star Plus, I think, at 10.30 in the night. It created such a furor especially when you had famous people, talking about their secrets which best left in the closet. why am I talking about it now? It is back, so dis it going to be informative like KBC, personally no, I don't want to know if somebody asked his spouse to get an abortion or is angry with his very famous friend for not lending a helping hand or so on and so forth. then Why waste space on a post, here's why. The promo is shot in Delhi and prominently at Rajghat, Gandhiji's Samadhi. One cannot miss the connection here, truth & Gandhiji, anyways, this brings back my a memory, an experience that I had at Rajghat.

Link to the new promo, nothing great, Sach ka Samna Promo

Delhi is a beautiful place, especially in a cold December morning. It's royal antecedents continue to lure many and I am one of them. So when I got an opportunity to visit Delhi, even if it was a 4 days, and during the coldest days I was game. And that was the time when Kandahar Hijack incident happened. It was for a cousin's wedding an Uncle, his wife, son, Mom & I were en route to Delhi. Obviously if you are visiting a new city one would choose to do some sight seeing also and that is what we did too. This brings us to Rajghat, a memorial to Mahatma Gandhi.It is a black marble platform that marks the spot of Mahatma Gandhi's cremation. 

Rajghat

With respect and peity and all the positive feelings that we could muster after all the sight seeing, roaming around in the sun and arguing etc.. we reached the revered spot. It was filled with people of all kinds, shapes, colours, age...

Now in India we remove our footwear even when we enter somebody's house and that is what we did here also, we come out and voila no sign of my my uncle's shoes , that's when we faced the truth, our Sach ka Samna moment happened. My uncle was fuming and we inquired whether anybody saw anything, he was sure the locals knew who took abut wouldn't help us unless we gave them money. Finally we had to shop for shoes for my uncle on a Monday. Ok, what's the big deal?, Nothing, it's just that while flipping channels when I saw the suave Rajeev Kandhelwal (host) with Rajghat as the brackdrop, talking about the country rising against corruption and questioning the leaders for their actions, not willing to take anything lying anymore as it was time to face the truth. What truth, which truth ? And do we really want to know why a starlet did something, why did a man lie to his wife, why did a transgender hide her orientation. Or by knowing all this are we going to try and help them or is it for sensationalism.

I have a question what is "Truth"?

Miss you Dad...

My Dad

As a kid I was a monster, yes,  know it and acknowledge it. Also was daddy's girl. So daddy had to come and come me up from school. School was five minutes walk form home, but if I remember correctly dad always came in his blue scooter, and wait outside the school with all the other parents. The school bell had to ring and I would shoot out of the classroom and be the first to reach the gate into Dad's arms. This was a daily routine.

Except one day  instead of Dad, it was my Koo thatha (maternal grandfather, cause he traveled by train to work, hence the sound Koo associated with train) at the gate. I was so angry, my grandparents had a tough time handling my tantrums, strong people (may their souls rest in peace), silently bore everything out of their love for me & my brother. I walked into the house not willing to change till I was told about Dad's whereabouts. Just then two men called in on us and all I remember next is the scene in Kiran thata's (paternal grandfather, house just behind our apartment building). That scene is a little hazy but will never leave my mind, cause I had never seen anything like that before. Koo thatha was sitting on the floor looking distraught, like he had lost the only reason to live. At five I couldn't make head or tail of it. He had indeed lost ... my father (his son-in-law, he thought would replace the son he had lost to pneumonia early in life). 

Two men who called in on us,  had witnessed an accident, a scooter hit by a truck,on the main road close to our house. My dad was riding the scooter. I did not shed a tear, for I clearly remember telling myself, no crying like they show in the TV, you have to be strong. Then I remember my dad's face, peaceful, his body  wrapped in white cloth, it struck me then that I would never ever see him again.

I miss dad... but have a mom. I think about those who have lost both parents. Growing up I missed dad on many occasions, like when I saw my cousins with their father or when in a fight with mom and you just knew dad would have understood or just like that on a sunday afternoon. I often told myself to shut up about not having a dad and accept the fact which worked and continues to work. But there are times when I really miss him, like today 26 years (16th Dec) after his passing away.

Feeling low

I feel very low today, no, have been feeling a low for the past few minutes.Actually,  today began on a jovial note, as always the confusion what to take for lunch. Mom suggesting  something and I wanting some thing else. 

The feeling is not sadness, something more than that. Difficult to name,  it leaves a bad taste, a bitter feeling and creates a negative aura and most importantly no work gets done at a time like this. Also, I try and drop everything I am doing least the result is not up to the mark, that again results in negativity. It is like the domino effect. 

I think it is helplessness over something that I can only watch as a bystander. I shed tears but the feeling refuses to go, I tried working to get over it, I tried talking to people, reading, nothing seems to be working. Hope it wears out soon.

PS 17/12/11: This indescribable feeling was gone by evening though I had to down McDonald's McFlurry(with Oreo), sweet & chocolates really help during  a sad moment.

Love2HateU

It's a show on Star Plus, "Love2HateU", what's special about it,nothing besides, Arjun Rampal. Love2HateU, brings the hater and the hated face to face. In this case the hated is always a personality (actors, writers, sportsmen, directors and others). Then begins the "face-off". The "hater" puts in words their hatred for the "hated", their work and everything and anything they hate about this person and rate their hatred on a "hate-o meter". Then the "hated tries to, what's the word", justify, clarify any other "fy" their action/reaction/work...

What's the point. The show began with Arjun Rampal facing his "hater", the"hater", less said the best (about the hater). Am I promoting the show, hell no, then why this post. I am inspired by Mr Mahesh Bhatt's poise when this lady went on about how his films are sleazy, he has an opinion on everything, and many more things. He gave it back to her equally strong. But that man was unfazed till the end. Finally, he even asked the woman to get all the negativity inside her out and he prodded her, there came a point when she was at loss of words. And this guys actually hugs her and praises her for being a strong woman and having the guts to say what she thinks. 


Don't know why, after Zakhm, if it is really about Mr Bhatt, I must say he was one strong kid and continues to be a strong, independent man caring a hoot about the world and saying what he has to. Always like people like that. Absolutely amused by the way the Bhatts carried themselves about in the film industry. Was a little upset when he praised Mr Laloo Prasad Yadav for his role in Bihar during the communal riots. Then came his film Jism. Man did he have guts or what. He gave what the people wanted to see without trying to cover it up or dress it up pretty. A few more followed. It is interesting to watch Mr Bhatt on discussions, especially how vehemently he sticks by his stance. Then "Love2HateU" happens, this woman went on and on... he kept prodding her to do better and the show ended on a emotional note. 


How many of us can actually face even a small negative comment/ critic about  ourselves. Even when friends or friends say something close to negative, our radars are up weapons in hand the tongue ready to give a lashing.  We forget everybody has the right to an opinion and some voice it courageously. Even stars are humans they are doing a job, like we experiment at work by switching fields-career change, a model jumps to movies, if she/he is good they get accolades, if not eggs & tomatoes, part of the game. Similarly asking a sports person why he/she is so open about emotions on the field, I think is absurd. Bhaiya, my tears of joy, over World Cup 2011, would have solved all water problems. I was home imagine those in the stadium and then the guys who actually made it possible. Tik hai , kabhi kabar, restraint is good. If controlling emotions isn't somebody's strength, that is no cause to hate them.  Why do we judge? It comes so easily. Do we like it when somebody judges us, NO.  Expecting perfection only because they are stars is in itself an"Uthopian expectation".




Actually everybody is opinionated, but only few have the courage to speak it out, or hear it out. 


PS: Message to the Love2HateU crew, keep it coming always.

Relations

Though I think in English, write in English, speak Tamil, English, Hindi sometimes Marathi , Tamil does seep into my writings, only in the blogs though. So I feel the need to have this glossary of Tamil words, this would helps readers with other blogs also, so please free to add words, phrases... This was the original idea behind this post, but, it has tuned out into something else. It has turned out into a list of terms used for various relatives in Tamil. I am open to suggestions...

Amma   mother

Appa    father

thatha   grandfather (Paternal or maternal)  attach their name as a prefix to thatha or a nick. 

 

Patti    Grandmother (Paternal or maternal) same goes for grandmas

Peran   Grandson

Petthi  Grand daughter

Anna    Elder brother

Akka   Elder sister (no reference in my blogs as I don't have one)

Unfortunately the younger siblings, always the sidekicks are never referred to by the term of reference nobody calls the younger brother thambi also every south Indian Tea stall owner or worker is referred to as thambi. I believe there is a restaurant called Thambi. Or younger sister is not refereed to as thangai or thangachi.

Ma(a)ma  Maternal Uncle (irrespective of elder or younger to mom).

 Ma(a)mi   his wife

Chitti         Mom's younger sister

Chittappa  Her husband, now chitappa can be your father's younger brother also and chitti, his wife. Then you had their names as prefix.

Periyappa Father's older brother

Peryiamma His wife, now again, mom's older sister is also periyamma and he husband periyappa. To make it easier add names.

Trivia, what if your chitti (mom's sister) and the other chitti (father's younger brother's wife) have the same name, good question, life has played a bad joke on you. Just joking. In such situations one of the chittis has to give up her name. No, we don't change the name just the reference, her place of domicile becomes the point of reference, or physical attribute, we come up with weird ideas..

eg. Jam Mani ( jam short for Jamshedpur and Mani short for Subramanian)

 Goondu Lali ( Fat Lali, obviously because she is rotund in comparison to the thinner Lalitha)

Then there is, chinna Ambi, Ambi is a common nick for boys down south, therefore there ought to a few Periya Ambis too, i.e older Ambi. A household could have many ambis, no questions asked.

Athai   Father's sister (irrespective of elder or younger to dad)

Athimber father's sister's husband, one's older sister's husband is also called Athimber. So please remember to add their name when calling out.

If you are a girl, then your paternal aunt's daughter is atanga and you are amanga to her. Sounds like name of a mango pickle that I like.

Great grandfather (GGf) is kollu thatha and his wife kollu patti, great great grandfather is ellu thatha and great great grandmother (GGm) is ellu patti.

If you are great grand daughter then you are a kollu petthi to your GGparents and ellu petthi.

This all I can think of, everybody,anybody feel free to make additions, correct ones please if possible with explanation.

Love to know what your father's sister -in-law's niece's brother is called in any language?

எஙல் குடும்பம் நல்ல குடும்பம்.

The Big question... not marriage but profession.

As kid (really small not in size, but in age) I wanted to be a pilot, an just any pilot, a fighter pilot.. But had to give that up, wondering why. Here's why, my first flight to anywhere (Madras in this case), 'cause I can't hold anything in my tummy when I fly, in short, I throw up. Sadly, yes, even after many attempts at to get over it. The 2nd time I was airborne, it was  on empty stomach, nothing in the tummy to throw out. Oh No, that was not to stop my stomach from acting funny and it did regurgitate, even if it was only water. Completely dehydrating me in the process which left feeling weak and almost fainting. I tried half full tummy, no lunch on plane strategy, only sleep strategy, nothing seems to work. Mom thinks it is all in the mind, me thinks it's got to do something with my last birth (Brian Weiss, please help)

So no more piloting for especially, fighter planes, anybody seen "Top Gun" would know, I also wanted to be "Maverick" and do the vertical nose dive and rise up in he sky, but not with my vomit also in the cockpit. With that my dream of being a fighter pilot nose dived and crashed. (Sadly after years I still throw up even Avamine doesn't work, only sleeping pills left to try, but I really don't' want to do that)

Next choice, for some reason I never wanted to be a  Mochee or bajiwali, I wonder Why? It was always highly educated occupations, maybe the importance of education dawned on pretty early in life, not that it helped. Next choice,straight away doctor, did not fear blood, never had an injection till then, besides my vaccination shots, which I did not remember then. And when I had to have shots (two times a day) for an ear infection, amma would begin calling out to all the gods in the Hindu pantheon while I grimaced over the raucous she created. This happened for a week so after two days I ordered not to come or the shots would stop causing my ear to rot and fall off my head. Now, which mother would want her daughter's ear to fall of, not a very pleasant prospect, you see.

So doctor it was to be and it was for a long time till I flunked in science one time. While I was casual about it, I was declared unfit to become a Doctor.  I would cut off somebody's limb or gorge out an eye or inject somebody with water or like the friendly doctor in Gujarat or Rajasthan (don't remember), very coolly operate on the wrong hand. So daaktary was out too.

Now, one also gets a lot of unsolicited suggestions. Trust me, some of them make sense now when I think back. And then there is always what amma wants you to be or Patti or thatha want you to be. Actually patti and thatha never had an opinion about it, all they said was "whatever you do be good at it (with a decent pay) " fair enough, I think. So family suggestions, banker and TV newsreader.

Banker, reminded me of the bhaniyas with their potti counting something on their fingers forever. People who know my love for Sudoku will be surprised when say that numbers and I weren't good friends back in school. Gawd, I hated mental sums, fractions, algebra, geometry, nothing about maths was interesting. Though I was thrifty, my mortal fear of numbers almost always caused screw ups, to the extent that mom always double checked , sometimes, triple checked before giving or taking cash from me. She had her little calculation all ready and I was almost always wrong. For a long time I refused to take financial responsibilities fearing screw ups. Then, this little glitch downed my chances of being on the roll of any bank, even if was some local BJS coop bank. I couldn't swindle properly. So no banking for me. Though, at this point in my life, I have immense respect for banks and bankers, cause one (BOB) really helped us get through life.

Always been talkative, stark opposite to the quite, calm sweet big brother. Forever up to some mischief, like once I opened my aunt's lens case, turned it upside down thinking it was empty. Only when the whole house was frantically searching for expensive lenses did I realize my folly. But, I feigned ignorance all through, I was just a kid. 

I did cut my hair once forcing mom to take me to a parlour.

But this naughty talkative kid lost all her gumption when she had to narrate a simple short story, that she knew, in front of the judges at a story telling competition. Sadly, I also saw the teachers marking a big "0" on their sheets which further caused distress after that I never of my own volition stood up in front of a crowd for anything. Scared of speaking in front of crowds even if they are people I know. Imagine me being a newsreader, all those who saw the news at 5, 7 & 9 on DD would have... 

So this will might come a s a surprise when I say that my first serious job was a lecturer in front of a class, fortunately for me the class had only 3 girls but the next class was close to 30 and another was a good 50. What happened they loved me and I liked it.

That's how I got into teaching and academics,first as a visiting faculty followed by lecturer. It is fun teaching, researching an array of topics, planning lessons, teaching methods, making it interesting for students and for yourself, having all the answers ready, expecting the unexpected, discussions on topics (everything under the sun). It feels good to know that young women are comfortable talking sharing their ideas and open up.

A teacher's purpose is not to create students in their own image, but to develop students who can create their own image. 

 Discover wildlife:  be a teacher!

P S: Images taken from the net.

A sweet friend.

 
Life is full of surprises that nobody can deny. I was in for a sweet surprise at a meeting which happened recently. At a meeting I was expecting some older person to walk in and greet, but this young lady walks in and through the conversation it turns out that she is somebody I know from college. I was in NCC "army wing" back in my college. I even wanted to get into the army fight for the country, actually, Air force was my first choice. But on my first flight to Chennai, Madras at that time, after puking on my mom's  saree, the aisle, the seats and in many more places, it was clear no air force for me. So, it turns out that this young lady was also in the NCC army wing and we had met a couple of times during our camps. What I remember the most is her lisping, she was anyways a sweet girl, but her lisping added an extra pound of cuteness. Also I remember that she sang. As it happens in all camps, people would sing impromptu or on being pestered by friends. Every night after a tiring day we would get ready for bed and I would ask this girl to sing for me which she did. Complete strangers, huddled in a hall for twelve days and she would sing for me almost every night, I think.  Not sure if it is "Chand mera dil" or "Maine pucha chand se" both Mohammed Rafi songs and she made it sound so nice that after many years I remembered it and now it features in my playlist. Except I don't remember which song, though I have a string feeling it was "chand mera dil". Anyways I am grateful to life these sweet surprise which makes life worth living. And thank you my friend, hope we keep in touch.

* PS. While writing this blog I forget which song, but every time I am listening to music that particular song for some reason reminds me of my camp.