<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/atom10full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/" xmlns:blogger="http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" gd:etag="W/&quot;A04FRno7cCp7ImA9WhBbFUo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11795715</id><updated>2013-05-15T06:35:17.408+05:30</updated><category term="Me" /><category term="Experiences" /><category term="Nature" /><category term="Township Tales" /><category term="My Favourites" /><category term="Art and Craft" /><category term="Mysore" /><category term="Contemplation" /><category term="Family" /><category term="Parenting" /><category term="Music" /><category term="Trees" /><category term="Humour" /><category term="Tags" /><category term="School Life" /><category term="UK" /><category term="Nostalgia" /><category term="Puttachi" /><category term="Published" /><category term="Successes" /><category term="People" /><category term="Opinion" /><category term="Bangalore" /><category term="Baby" /><category term="Travel" /><category term="society" /><category term="Schools" /><category term="Kannada" /><category term="Uncategorizable" /><category term="Links" /><category term="Food" /><category term="Snaps" /><category term="For a better life" /><category term="Lifestyle" /><category term="Stuttering" /><category term="Rant" /><category term="Fiction" /><category term="Movies" /><category term="blogging" /><category term="Sports" /><category term="Health" /><category term="Lists" /><category term="Bombay" /><category term="Books" /><title>Hallucinations!</title><subtitle type="html" /><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nychthemeron.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://nychthemeron.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11795715/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>Shruthi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00635222842257175541</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>528</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Hallucinations" /><feedburner:info xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" uri="hallucinations" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A04FRno6fCp7ImA9WhBbFUo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11795715.post-6364104071654425850</id><published>2013-05-15T06:35:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2013-05-15T06:35:17.414+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2013-05-15T06:35:17.414+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Parenting" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Published" /><title>Some more published work.</title><content type="html">&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
Dropped by to tell you that I have been updating my &lt;a href="http://nychthemeron.blogspot.in/p/my-writing.html"&gt;Published Work&lt;/a&gt; page with all my, well, published work.&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
Here is a line or two about the latest -&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"&gt;I've always been keen to know how to praise right. &amp;nbsp;So much of the praise we give children seems overexcited and unnecessary and repetitive. &amp;nbsp;Thanks to a lot of reading with the help of resources sent to me by friends, over the years, I've discovered that praising the effort, and not the result - is very important. &amp;nbsp;A small article to that effect is here - &amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.deccanherald.com/content/317461/praise-effort.html" style="background-color: white; color: #63a625; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"&gt;Praise the effort&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;- Deccan Herald Living, Mar 9, 2013.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"&gt;The last of my series for City and Neighbourhood for The Hindu -&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.thehindu.com/sci-tech/technology/gadgets/an-easy-ride-at-your-fingertips/article4529007.ece" style="background-color: white; color: #63a625; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"&gt;An easy ride at your fingertips&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;- Mar 21, 2013&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"&gt;After one last, here is a first - the first time an editor commissioned an article to me himself, including the topic, and the brief. &amp;nbsp;Here is the result - about neighbours and neighbourhoods &amp;nbsp;-&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.deccanherald.com/content/328661/there-humans-next-door-you.html" style="background-color: white; color: #63a625; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"&gt;There are humans next door, you know&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;- DH Living, Deccan Herald, April 27, 2013&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"&gt;And then, an article for Women's Web about cover letters -&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.womensweb.in/articles/how-to-write-a-cover-letter-for-a-job/" style="background-color: white; color: #63a625; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"&gt;How to write a cover letter for a job&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;- Women's Web, May 7, 2013.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nychthemeron.blogspot.com/feeds/6364104071654425850/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11795715&amp;postID=6364104071654425850" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11795715/posts/default/6364104071654425850?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11795715/posts/default/6364104071654425850?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://nychthemeron.blogspot.com/2013/05/some-more-published-work.html" title="Some more published work." /><author><name>Shruthi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00635222842257175541</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0MCRXs4fyp7ImA9WhBUF08.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11795715.post-767055809333389213</id><published>2013-05-05T08:03:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2013-05-05T08:07:44.537+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2013-05-05T08:07:44.537+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Books" /><title>Prisoner to books</title><content type="html">&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
In all my years of reading, which amounts to thousands of books, I've never abandoned a book midway. &amp;nbsp;Okay, maybe a couple of them over the years, but that was because I didn't understand them. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But why don't I feel like leaving a book midway? &amp;nbsp;I don't know. &amp;nbsp;Firstly, very few books have made me want to toss them aside, and so, perhaps my faith in the readability of books makes me want to persevere. &amp;nbsp; And then, usually, books that made me want to give up were often those that were called "classics" or "must-read" or they were the latest bestsellers and I forced them upon myself because I thought I "ought" to read them. &amp;nbsp;Also, I feel a kind of compulsion to get through to the end of any book. &amp;nbsp;A responsibility towards the book. &amp;nbsp;As if to redeem my perseverance and faith in it, many times, the book has picked up later and proved its worth to me. &amp;nbsp;But there have also been times when I have plodded through the book, tearing my hair out, and gouging my own skin with boredom and irritation, but yet, not abandoning the book. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And so, it came as a surprise to me when about four months ago, I just stopped reading a book that did nothing for me, looked at it once, and then set it aside. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I waited for a couple of days. &amp;nbsp;I kept looking at the book from time to time, from all angles. &amp;nbsp;I couldn't believe I didn't feel the compulsion to finish it. &amp;nbsp;I waited, and waited.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And I did not finish the book.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It was a kind of liberation, literally. &amp;nbsp;Because, in the four months after that, I have set aside nearly 8 books without finishing them. &amp;nbsp;That doesn't mean I have stopped enjoying books altogether. &amp;nbsp;In the same four months, I have read and loved a dozen books. &amp;nbsp;But the compulsion to finish a book I have started - that has disappeared.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I don't know what it is. &amp;nbsp;Some kind of wisdom? (High time, I would say) &amp;nbsp; A new attitude towards reading and books? &amp;nbsp;The realization that there is too much to do and too less time to do it in? &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But you know, I think I'd made myself a prisoner to books until now. &amp;nbsp;And now I feel free.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nychthemeron.blogspot.com/feeds/767055809333389213/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11795715&amp;postID=767055809333389213" title="5 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11795715/posts/default/767055809333389213?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11795715/posts/default/767055809333389213?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://nychthemeron.blogspot.com/2013/05/prisoner-to-books.html" title="Prisoner to books" /><author><name>Shruthi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00635222842257175541</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Ck8MQ3c9eyp7ImA9WhBVEkU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11795715.post-7922445325661008227</id><published>2013-04-18T15:58:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2013-04-18T15:58:02.963+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2013-04-18T15:58:02.963+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Puttachi" /><title>New phase!</title><content type="html">&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
The summer vacations are here again, and so far, ever since Puttachi has been born, it has been the easiest time for me with Puttachi at home.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
For one, she increasingly spends time alone, without needing me to sit by her. &amp;nbsp;She could be reading a book, or play-acting, or just playing with water, but she's lost in her own world for extended periods of time. &amp;nbsp;She does come to me from time to time with queries and stories, but still, it is not the incessant bombardment of before. &amp;nbsp; Next, there are many more things we can do together, and since most of those things don't require as much patience and forbearance from me as they did before, it doesn't drain me that much. &amp;nbsp;Plus, she does most of her own work herself &amp;nbsp;- dressing, brushing, bathing, washing, eating, getting herself a drink of water - so all the endless, repetitive, mind-numbing work of early childhood is also past us now. &amp;nbsp;So a major chunk of time has been made available for me.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Besides, the open kitchen I told you about has helped make cooking more enjoyable, and cleaning more tolerable, with Puttachi sitting at the table talking to me, or me telling her stories. &amp;nbsp;So that also doesn't really seem like a huge load of work. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
In fact, she has turned out to be quite the mother hen herself. &amp;nbsp;If she sees me tired, she brings me a glass of water, or advises me to take a nap, and if that she will be by herself for a while. &amp;nbsp;If there is coffee decoction available, she falls over herself to make me a cup of coffee (with help of course.) &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
If I don't feel like taking her to the park, she goes by herself, since at this apartment complex, we have a good garden, and a safe park to play in, where I am comfortable leaving her though I can't see the park from my house.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And so, today, when she is off spending the day in her classmate's house, I was happy to have a few full hours all to myself to get some work and reading and cleaning done. &amp;nbsp;But now, I am actually missing having her around. &amp;nbsp;Hmmm. &amp;nbsp;New-phase-of-life alert!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nychthemeron.blogspot.com/feeds/7922445325661008227/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11795715&amp;postID=7922445325661008227" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11795715/posts/default/7922445325661008227?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11795715/posts/default/7922445325661008227?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://nychthemeron.blogspot.com/2013/04/new-phase.html" title="New phase!" /><author><name>Shruthi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00635222842257175541</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0QMSHwzfSp7ImA9WhBQEUk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11795715.post-6486942459629053570</id><published>2013-03-13T10:03:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2013-03-13T10:06:29.285+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2013-03-13T10:06:29.285+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Books" /><title>Why the sky is blue</title><content type="html">&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://nychthemeron.blogspot.in/2013/02/science-and-young-minds.html"&gt;My blogpost &lt;/a&gt;was adjudged one of the three best in the Tulika Books Science Day Blogfest. &amp;nbsp;As a prize, I received (with a handwritten note by the editor) a copy of the book &lt;a href="http://www.tulikabooks.com/book_details.php?mid=2&amp;amp;c_id=1&amp;amp;s_id=1&amp;amp;b_id=70"&gt;Why the Sky is Blue&lt;/a&gt; by Chandralekha and Dashrath Patel. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The book is an extract from Sir CV Raman's lecture in Dec 1968 in Ahmedabad, where he speaks about science, nature, the wonders of the world around us and the never-ending questions that arise from learning more and more about it. When Raman was speaking, Dashrath Patel clicked photographs, and later, Chandralekha wrote the text down. &amp;nbsp;The beautiful black-and-white photographs, every one of them frame-worthy, are very evocative, and portray the great man in different moods - involved, excited, and passionate. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Puttachi needed explanations (the book is for Age 8+), but she understood and appreciated the simple truths in the book. CV Raman is urging his listeners to probe deeper, keep their eyes open, and ask more questions. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
"The best way to answer questions is to ask another one," &amp;nbsp;he says, which Puttachi was very pleased with.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
"Even at the age of 80, I am wondering about things I don't understand," he says another time, and again, Puttachi was awestruck by that. &amp;nbsp;She stayed silent for a long time thinking about that.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
"Science never stops. &amp;nbsp;It goes on and on. &amp;nbsp;The more you find, the more you have left to find," he says. &amp;nbsp;"An endless quest," he calls it. &amp;nbsp; I could go on quoting from the book!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The book also has a very crisp Timeline of CV Raman's life, and some interesting Snapshots of his life that throw light on his character. &amp;nbsp;There is also a simple explanation of The Raman Effect. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Meanwhile, the book's explanation of why the sky is blue wasn't simple enough for Puttachi. &amp;nbsp; She wanted to know more &amp;nbsp;- &amp;nbsp;I had to dig deeper and explain to her in simple words so that she'd follow. &amp;nbsp;But then I used some terms which she didn't understand. So I had to describe those to her. &amp;nbsp;After that, she had some more questions about colours..... and voila! &amp;nbsp;We found ourselves doing the very thing that CV Raman urged us to do!&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nychthemeron.blogspot.com/feeds/6486942459629053570/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11795715&amp;postID=6486942459629053570" title="7 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11795715/posts/default/6486942459629053570?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11795715/posts/default/6486942459629053570?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://nychthemeron.blogspot.com/2013/03/why-sky-is-blue.html" title="Why the sky is blue" /><author><name>Shruthi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00635222842257175541</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEYGQnk-eCp7ImA9WhBRGUo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11795715.post-9071524051539824662</id><published>2013-03-11T09:58:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2013-03-11T09:58:43.750+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2013-03-11T09:58:43.750+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Parenting" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Published" /><title>Praising the effort, and not the result.</title><content type="html">&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
A piece I wrote on &lt;a href="http://www.deccanherald.com/content/317461/praise-effort.html"&gt;Praising the effort&lt;/a&gt; of children, and not their result - was published in Deccan Herald Living.&amp;nbsp;&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
I would love to hear your thoughts on this.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nychthemeron.blogspot.com/feeds/9071524051539824662/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11795715&amp;postID=9071524051539824662" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11795715/posts/default/9071524051539824662?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11795715/posts/default/9071524051539824662?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://nychthemeron.blogspot.com/2013/03/praising-effort-and-not-result.html" title="Praising the effort, and not the result." /><author><name>Shruthi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00635222842257175541</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEcFSH0_eip7ImA9WhBRGUo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11795715.post-7062580996680031708</id><published>2013-03-11T09:56:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2013-03-11T09:56:59.342+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2013-03-11T09:56:59.342+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Published" /><title>Malleshwaram</title><content type="html">&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
I lived in Malleshwaram for nearly 20 years, and have fond memories of growing up and going to school there. &amp;nbsp;But in the last few years, after my parents also moved out from there, I haven't visited it much. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But with my work with The Hindu, I covered two places in Malleshwaram for two consecutive issues. &amp;nbsp; The first was &lt;a href="http://www.thehindu.com/news/cities/bangalore/a-myriad-books-in-multiple-languages/article4457934.ece"&gt;Gupta Circulating Library&lt;/a&gt;, a 60-year old institution that is still going strong. &amp;nbsp;The second was &lt;a href="http://www.thehindu.com/news/cities/bangalore/more-active-than-their-grandchildren/article4481318.ece"&gt;Nightingale's Elders Enrichment Centre.&lt;/a&gt; &amp;nbsp;I had a marvellous time here, interacting with the members. &amp;nbsp;They made me laugh until my cheeks ached. &amp;nbsp;The visit really opened up many avenues of thought for me.... and it really struck me that every neighbourhood in every town needs a place like this where elders can meet on a regular basis and stay happy and active. &amp;nbsp;People in smaller villages and communities naturally have a setup like this, but in the cities, with increasing isolation and insularity, and growing distances and traffic, elders are finding it more and more difficult to get together with like-minded people and just enjoy themselves. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nychthemeron.blogspot.com/feeds/7062580996680031708/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11795715&amp;postID=7062580996680031708" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11795715/posts/default/7062580996680031708?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11795715/posts/default/7062580996680031708?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://nychthemeron.blogspot.com/2013/03/malleshwaram.html" title="Malleshwaram" /><author><name>Shruthi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00635222842257175541</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUMCR3k4cCp7ImA9WhBRFUk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11795715.post-462828381271787898</id><published>2013-03-05T21:13:00.005+05:30</published><updated>2013-03-06T09:47:46.738+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2013-03-06T09:47:46.738+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Parenting" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Lifestyle" /><title>The joy of walking</title><content type="html">&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;One of the nicest things about our new place is its proximity to Puttachi's school. &amp;nbsp;Though I drive her to school (as of now), I bring her back walking. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The lovely thing about coming back walking with her is that I hear all her school news, hot off the press. &amp;nbsp;We are lucky to have a quiet, tree-lined road part of the way, and as we walk, Puttachi swings her bag, and skips along, ponytails bouncing, and she chatters away. &amp;nbsp;Contrast this with driving back - my eyes are on the road, she is in the back seat, and I am only half-listening to what she says.. and since she also doesn't get the eye-contact and reactions she needs, she becomes quiet too (relatively.)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It is just a kilometre's walk, but it surprises me that everybody who hears that I bring her back walking says, "Isn't she tired after school?" and "Can she walk that distance?" &amp;nbsp; She is as tired as an active kid is after school, but this leisurely, short walk doesn't make her more tired. &amp;nbsp;Of course, there are days when she doesn't feel too good, or she has fallen down at school and complains of aches, but I always carry enough money for an autorickshaw in case she cannot walk at all. &amp;nbsp;But more often than not, once she starts talking (and walking), she makes it home pretty easily. &amp;nbsp;The second question - seriously? &amp;nbsp;1 km? &amp;nbsp;It is nothing. &amp;nbsp;The very people who are surprised that she walks that distance would have walked many times that distance when they were Puttachi's age. I think the adults of today underestimate our children. &amp;nbsp;We presume weakness in them.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Walking is such a dying art - very few people walk to a friend's house, to a shop, or to the barber. &amp;nbsp;Distances, traffic and smoke, creepily lonely roads and uneven footpaths are all culprits. &amp;nbsp;As a result, even when the conditions are conducive to walking, people don't even remember that they can include walking among their options. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Walking is such joy - the freedom to go where you want to, the luxury not to have to park your vehicle anywhere, the feeling of being part of the landscape, the space you get to think when you are alone, or the opportunity to have good conversations when you are with company.....&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I come from a family of great walkers, and I am married to an extreme walker, if there is any such phrase, and I &amp;nbsp;think Puttachi has already been inculcated in this "art" - I hope that the future gives her the space and the opportunity to continue to experience the pleasure of walking.&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nychthemeron.blogspot.com/feeds/462828381271787898/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11795715&amp;postID=462828381271787898" title="8 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11795715/posts/default/462828381271787898?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11795715/posts/default/462828381271787898?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://nychthemeron.blogspot.com/2013/03/the-joy-of-walking.html" title="The joy of walking" /><author><name>Shruthi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00635222842257175541</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0EMQnY_fyp7ImA9WhBRF04.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11795715.post-8468853109963080724</id><published>2013-02-28T10:06:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2013-03-08T15:11:23.847+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2013-03-08T15:11:23.847+05:30</app:edited><title>Mothering Today - Changes and Challenges.</title><content type="html">&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ayYLcsQXAxo/US7b-4ir5pI/AAAAAAAAFSM/Ix-0nG1QS0w/s1600/Indusladies_IWD_Blog_Contest_Entry.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ayYLcsQXAxo/US7b-4ir5pI/AAAAAAAAFSM/Ix-0nG1QS0w/s1600/Indusladies_IWD_Blog_Contest_Entry.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://www.indusladies.com/forums/blogs/induslady/indusladies-4th-annual-international-women-8412/"&gt;Written for the Indusladies.com 4th Annual International &amp;nbsp;Women's Day Contest.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div lang="zxx" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;
A mother. &amp;nbsp;Oh, that glorified
being! She's called an angel, a goddess, the paragon of love – but
being a mother is hard.  Yes, I am speaking of this section of urban
middle-class mothers, who have it much better than their rural
counterparts, who, in many cases, are still trying to keep their
children alive.  We, in contrast, can afford to keep our children
well-fed, healthy and comfortable, and we cannot compare our problems
with them, and we will not.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div lang="zxx" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div lang="zxx" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;
Our issues are different,
and unique to this generation. 
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div lang="zxx" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div lang="zxx" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;
The last couple of decades
have seen an explosion of information, and this information overload
has been both a boon and a curse to today's mother. &amp;nbsp;That has been the biggest change, and it is, I think, the greatest challenge she faces.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div lang="zxx" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div lang="zxx" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;
I'll split it into three
parts.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div lang="zxx" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div lang="zxx" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;
&lt;b&gt;Awareness and choice.&lt;/b&gt;  The
mother of today is so much more aware of the world around her and the
choices available to her, that she is.... confused.  There are
choices to be made in everything.  Health (Conventional medicine?
Alternative medicine?)  Schooling. (Mainstream schools?  Alternative
schools? A mix of both?)  Food.  (Organic?  Supplements?  Health
Drinks?)  Parenting styles (Attachment? Helicopter?  Permissive? 
Authoritative?)  Lifestyle (Modern? Traditional?  A mix?)  Work. 
(Work out of home?  Work from home?  Work partly from home?  Stay at
home?  Stay at home and work once a week?)  Childcare. (Nanny? 
Daycare? Full-time maid? Part-time maid? Grandparents?)  You name it, and she has multiple
choices.  Which is a good thing, but only if she is clear about what
she wants. If she is not, then making a choice is very difficult. 
Yes, there is enough material about the pros and cons of every choice
available to her.  And it can help her make up her mind – or become
more confused. 
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div lang="zxx" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div lang="zxx" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;
And this is just one aspect.
Remember, her child is also exposed to the same kind of information
overload, and is more aware of the world around her than children of
yesterday.  And we all know that today's child has a mind of her own
–  and is not afraid to speak it.  So, when you pit these two
individuals against each other, the possibilities of conflict are
endless.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div lang="zxx" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div lang="zxx" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;
One more negative aspect of
too much information -  not only are you informed of the positive
things happening out there, you know as much about all that is going
wrong in the world. Ask any mother and she will tell you that
after she had a child, the violence and perversion of the world
scares her much more than it did before.  At every point, she is
aware that she is sending her child out into a world that is probably
very unsafe – and that is something that mothers of yesterday
didn't have to contend with to this extent.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div lang="zxx" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div lang="zxx" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;
&lt;b&gt;The shrinking world&lt;/b&gt;. 
Earlier, a mother just compared herself to her neighbour.  Now, she compares notes with a blogger half way around the globe, who isn't
even aware of her existence, and  feels miserably inadequate.  And
then there is Facebook, where people put up pictures of themselves
and their perfectly turned-out children going on exotic vacations and
posing for photographs in beautifully decorated living rooms, and
then this mother sees these pictures right after snapping at Kid 1
while cleaning up the sheets over which Kid 2 just threw up, and she
feels like the worst mother in the world. 
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div lang="zxx" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div lang="zxx" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;
Earlier, a mother was
bombarded with advice only from her mother-in-law and the
neighbourhood nosy parker.  But now, she is flooded with suggestions,
often contradictory, from people of all nationalities all across the
globe (and they all cite the best sources.)  Come to think of it,
it is a terrible state for a mother to be in.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div lang="zxx" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div lang="zxx" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;
&lt;b&gt;The "Me" Factor.&lt;/b&gt; 
The majority of mothers earlier just gave up their own lives after
marriage and kids, and lived "for the family."  Today's
mother is an educated, aware (that word again) and confident person
who knows what she wants in her life.  She loves her kids, make no
mistake, but is not ready to let her own dreams go down the drain. 
She isn't happy being "Chintu's mother."  She wants her own
identity.  
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div lang="zxx" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div lang="zxx" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;
And this is one of the most
beautiful things about today's mother.  That she knows that she
deserves her own place under the sun, and that she is ready to work
for it.  But it is also very hard.   Because immediately, &amp;nbsp;that tired
phrase pops up – "work-life balance."  How much work and
how much life is the right balance for her?  (And why is work not
life?  And why isn't this used as much for men?  But we won't go
there.)   Can she really not have it all?  And the moment she chooses
one over the other, out comes the Guilt.  Yes, with a Capital G.  
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div lang="zxx" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div lang="zxx" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;
When you think of it,
parenting is all about Balance.  How much of work, and how much of
being with the child?  Balance.   How much of mollycoddling and how
much of discipline?  Balance.  Too much freedom, and the child will
go wild.  Too strict and the child will rebel.  What to do?  Balance.
  
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div lang="zxx" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div lang="zxx" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;
And the thing is – this
Balance?  It is different for each person. It varies with the
mother's lifestyle and life choices, and setting.  And nobody can
tell her what she "must" do.  Because there is nothing like
"must."  This is what every mother of today needs to know. 
And she has to throw out the Guilt.  Because she is doing the best
she can.  She is processing information and she is making the choices
she believes is the best.  Yes, she goes wrong often, but then that's
how she learns.  Contrary to popular opinion, mothers are not
goddesses, nor angels, nor saints.  Mothers are people with opinions
and dreams, fears and failings – and we are learning every day.  
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div lang="zxx" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div lang="zxx" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;
But there is one thing.  In
spite of all our shortcomings,  all the wavering and confusion, all
the snapping and impatience, we love our children to bits.  
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div lang="zxx" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div lang="zxx" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;
And that, my friends, is
neither a challenge, nor will it ever change.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Edited to add: &amp;nbsp;In my rush to write this, I overlooked the basic condition that the post has to be less than 500 words to qualify for the contest. :) Anyway, I had fun writing this.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nychthemeron.blogspot.com/feeds/8468853109963080724/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11795715&amp;postID=8468853109963080724" title="7 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11795715/posts/default/8468853109963080724?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11795715/posts/default/8468853109963080724?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://nychthemeron.blogspot.com/2013/02/mothering-today-changes-and-challenges.html" title="Mothering Today - Changes and Challenges." /><author><name>Shruthi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00635222842257175541</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ayYLcsQXAxo/US7b-4ir5pI/AAAAAAAAFSM/Ix-0nG1QS0w/s72-c/Indusladies_IWD_Blog_Contest_Entry.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Ak4GR3w8fCp7ImA9WhBREUk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11795715.post-4935282049964473567</id><published>2013-02-25T10:17:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2013-03-01T20:12:06.274+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2013-03-01T20:12:06.274+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Parenting" /><title>Science and young minds.</title><content type="html">&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
The beautiful thing about getting children interested in science is that one doesn't even have to try. &amp;nbsp;All you have to do is introduce a tiny seed of wonder in an already inquisitive mind, and the child will take it and run with it. &amp;nbsp;The key element is that you have to seize the opportune moment when the child is open to receiving ideas.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Last year, during spring, Puttachi and I took many walks in the park, and my curiosity about trees rubbed off on her. &amp;nbsp;Soon, she was picking up any leaf or flower or fruit on the road and&lt;a href="http://www.deccanherald.com/content/234637/happy-tree-spotting.html"&gt; trying to identify it.&lt;/a&gt; &amp;nbsp;When she found a flying seed, I told her about seed dispersal, and she spent an entire evening looking for other seeds like that. &amp;nbsp;Though we haven't spoken much about tree identification for a year, when she saw the green bursting forth around her this spring, she brought up the subject herself, saying, "Spring is here! &amp;nbsp;Let's look out for the flowers!" &amp;nbsp;And now I know that this love and curiosity about the trees around her is going to stay with her.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Similarly, we built a 3D puzzle of a dinosaur skeleton, and that triggered off &lt;a href="http://nychthemeron.blogspot.in/2010/09/dinosaur-faq.html"&gt;an interesting conversation that I have blogged about before.&lt;/a&gt; &amp;nbsp;And then there was one day when we spent an entire hour watching a group of monkeys from the window. &amp;nbsp;I pointed out the alpha male to her, and told her all I knew about monkey behaviour as and when it happened. &amp;nbsp;And she still remembers it, and brings up these concepts during conversations about other animals too, asking which the alpha male is. &amp;nbsp; Or she tells me about something she saw in a nature book months ago at her grandparents' house, and about which one of the grandparents talked to her. &amp;nbsp;Sometimes it stuns me when she remembers clearly, conversations that happened even two years ago. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The common element in all these conversations is that when she showed interest and curiosity, I made sure I immediately gave her whatever it was that she wanted. &amp;nbsp;If I had waited until a more comfortable time, she would have been engrossed in something else, and might not have been as receptive.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
That is why, just last week, when I was arm-deep in cooking, and the kitchen platform was a mess, Puttachi insisted that she simple had to try out the &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jal_tarang"&gt;jaltarang&lt;/a&gt; by herself. &amp;nbsp;"Later," I said, looking at the messy counter, but then, I shrugged. &amp;nbsp;So what if there is chapati flour on the counter? &amp;nbsp;I just set out the glasses and gave her water and a spoon, and she stood right there, and spent an hour experimenting with sounds and different levels of water. &amp;nbsp;Right after this, she wanted to try out what sinks and what doesn't in water, and I gave her various objects to try. &amp;nbsp;Then I demonstrated how a needle sinks in water, but when placed on a paper which is placed on water, the paper gets wet and sinks, and the needle stays afloat. &amp;nbsp; She was so fascinated that she spent another hour with it, and when she tired of it, she played with all the mushy paper that resulted from the experiment, and that set off a discussion on paper making.....&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
You get the idea. &amp;nbsp;there is never "one right time" to teach a child something. &amp;nbsp;But you really have to be ready to give the child what she needs at that moment.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And offhand conversations can have such a deep impact. &amp;nbsp;Years ago, when I was studying Energy Engineering, my then 5-year-old cousin and I had had a conversation about the subjects I study. I don't even remember this conversation too well, but a few days later, my aunt was surprised to see a drawing he had made. &amp;nbsp;He had drawn a volcano, with lava flowing out of it. &amp;nbsp;He had drawn a wire, one end of which was connected to the lava, and the other end to a glowing bulb. &amp;nbsp;My aunt asked him where he got the idea, and he told her that Shruthi Akka told him. &amp;nbsp;My guess is that this was his interpretation of what I told him about geothermal energy!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It is very exciting, actually. &amp;nbsp;To see sharp minds understand concepts far beyond what we think is possible for their age - just by one conversation, one activity, one book. &amp;nbsp;The potentials are endless.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
(Written for &lt;a href="http://tulikapublishers.blogspot.in/2013/02/blogfest-my-science-story.html"&gt;Tulika Books' Science Blogfest&lt;/a&gt; for National Science Day)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Updated to add: This blog was judged one of the three best entries in the contest. &amp;nbsp;Will get a book as prize! :)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nychthemeron.blogspot.com/feeds/4935282049964473567/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11795715&amp;postID=4935282049964473567" title="8 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11795715/posts/default/4935282049964473567?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11795715/posts/default/4935282049964473567?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://nychthemeron.blogspot.com/2013/02/science-and-young-minds.html" title="Science and young minds." /><author><name>Shruthi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00635222842257175541</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0QBRn0zfCp7ImA9WhBSEUs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11795715.post-7299212059871446444</id><published>2013-02-18T09:52:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2013-02-18T09:52:37.384+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2013-02-18T09:52:37.384+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Published" /><title>Freelancing with The Hindu</title><content type="html">&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;span style="text-align: left;"&gt;I've started freelancing with the City and Neighbourhood section of The Hindu. &amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://www.thehindu.com/todays-paper/tp-features/tp-neighbourhood/they-invite-you-to-join-the-family/article4413215.ece"&gt;My first article appeared last Thursday, on a North Karnataka-style home restaurant. &amp;nbsp;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;span style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;span style="text-align: left;"&gt;The online version doesn't have a picture, and some people expressed a wish to see what it looked like, so here is a pic of the paper - the photograph was taken by the staff photographer.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GRRnTpmbXGU/USGqzDwH0HI/AAAAAAAAFR0/UwD4WXYvaKg/s1600/aduge+mane.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GRRnTpmbXGU/USGqzDwH0HI/AAAAAAAAFR0/UwD4WXYvaKg/s320/aduge+mane.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It was truly interesting to go as an interviewer and talk to the owners, the customers - and to sift through the information overload, and put it all down in 400-500 words. &amp;nbsp;The delight of people who have been told they will be featured in a newspaper is so wonderful. &amp;nbsp;And they transferred that joy to me - They forced me to have a meal there, and didn't accept money for it. &amp;nbsp;And after the paper came out, the proprietor called me again and thanked me profusely (even though I was just the messenger - I had been asked to write about this place, I didn't select it myself.) &amp;nbsp;The whole experience was fun!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nychthemeron.blogspot.com/feeds/7299212059871446444/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11795715&amp;postID=7299212059871446444" title="8 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11795715/posts/default/7299212059871446444?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11795715/posts/default/7299212059871446444?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://nychthemeron.blogspot.com/2013/02/freelancing-with-hindu.html" title="Freelancing with The Hindu" /><author><name>Shruthi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00635222842257175541</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GRRnTpmbXGU/USGqzDwH0HI/AAAAAAAAFR0/UwD4WXYvaKg/s72-c/aduge+mane.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0ABQnoyeip7ImA9WhBSEE0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11795715.post-1029611345944950026</id><published>2013-02-16T15:45:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2013-02-16T15:45:53.492+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2013-02-16T15:45:53.492+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Parenting" /><title>When your child wants you to behave silly in public.</title><content type="html">&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
Like many children, Puttachi is not very self-conscious. &amp;nbsp;If it pleases her, she'll break into a jig in the middle of the road, or behave silly in public. &amp;nbsp;Which is a joy to watch, of course.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But the problem arises when she expects me to join her. &amp;nbsp;"Come on, Amma," she says in the park. &amp;nbsp;"Let's dance. &amp;nbsp;I'll sing, and both of us will dance." &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The thing is, if it were at home, I would have joined her immediately. &amp;nbsp;Now, out here, with people watching, I don't want to. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
"No, Puttachu," I say, squirming as she takes my arms and starts swinging them around.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
"Oh, come onnnn Amma!" she says, and then the inevitable question. &amp;nbsp;"Why not?"&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
"People are watching," I say. &amp;nbsp;"I'll dance at home."&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
"So what, I am dancing too, and people are watching me."&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
"But you're a kid."&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
"So should I stop dancing in the park when I grow up?"&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Now what on earth do I say to this? &amp;nbsp;I've already made the mistake of saying "People are watching," and conveyed to her that she should care what people think of her.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
"That's your wish, Puttachi," I say, finally. &amp;nbsp;"If you feel like dancing in the park when you grow up, you can. &amp;nbsp;I don't feel too comfortable, so I won't."&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Ugh, I tell myself. &amp;nbsp;Whatever happened to teaching by example? &amp;nbsp;If I am so self-conscious, won't that attitude rub off on her? &amp;nbsp;Or is that a good thing? &amp;nbsp;How would I view an adult dancing in public for no apparent reason at all?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Ok, forget dancing. &amp;nbsp;What about behaving silly in general? &amp;nbsp;For example, if I'm telling her a story while walking on the road or in the park, I sometimes make exaggerated expressions and expansive gestures with my hands. &amp;nbsp;Another person might not be comfortable with that, and indeed, I have received strange looks sometimes. &amp;nbsp;But I haven't minded. &amp;nbsp;But that is my limit. &amp;nbsp;Dancing on the road - no, I wouldn't do that. &amp;nbsp;But another parent might not mind that too. &amp;nbsp;But in the end, what message should you convey to your child?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But for the moment, Puttachi is satisfied by my answer. &amp;nbsp;"Okay. &amp;nbsp;All people are different, right? &amp;nbsp;No problem, we'll dance at home," she says, ever the understanding child.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But I still am not sure how to handle this. &amp;nbsp;Any ideas?&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nychthemeron.blogspot.com/feeds/1029611345944950026/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11795715&amp;postID=1029611345944950026" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11795715/posts/default/1029611345944950026?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11795715/posts/default/1029611345944950026?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://nychthemeron.blogspot.com/2013/02/when-your-child-wants-you-to-behave.html" title="When your child wants you to behave silly in public." /><author><name>Shruthi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00635222842257175541</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUQHRHw8fSp7ImA9WhBTFUo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11795715.post-7022068815877737501</id><published>2013-02-11T14:32:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2013-02-11T14:32:15.275+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2013-02-11T14:32:15.275+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="society" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Opinion" /><title>Losing their way...</title><content type="html">&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
I attended an Indian classical music concert after ages. &amp;nbsp;An all-night one at that (and we lasted the night.) &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The concert boasted of big names, and there were some pleasant surprises, but on the whole, I was very disappointed and depressed after the concert.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Many of these artistes, in an effort to display their expertise in music, indulged in what I can only call musical acrobatics. &amp;nbsp;As a result, the melody and the quality of music was compromised. &amp;nbsp;At the end, it was more of noise and cacophony than anything else.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I have a similar grouse against literary writers. &amp;nbsp;They are so eager to show what great command they have over the language that they use flowery writing and grandiose words and the result is that it distracts one from the flow of the story. &amp;nbsp;While I am reading a book, if I stop to think, "Wow, how did he think up such a &amp;nbsp;turn of phrase?" &amp;nbsp;or worse, "Just a sec, what exactly did she mean to say with that complicated combination of words?" - then that book is a failure to me. &amp;nbsp;There are many writers out there who insert brilliant phrases and descriptions without breaking the flow of the story, or without making you stop to wonder what that was all about. &amp;nbsp;Oh yes, some writers do make me stop and catch my breath sometimes, but only to say, "How beautifully she said that! I totally understand and relate to that." &amp;nbsp;That - That is what makes a book a success. &amp;nbsp;Blend your cleverness into the story.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I recently came across some discussions of some latest movies too - someone said that the technology and the computer graphics is the star of the movie, and it doesn't have much going for it in terms of a story.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Why are we losing sight of the main intention? &amp;nbsp;When did the tools that was supposed to be just aiding you, become more important than what you set out to do in the first place?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nychthemeron.blogspot.com/feeds/7022068815877737501/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11795715&amp;postID=7022068815877737501" title="5 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11795715/posts/default/7022068815877737501?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11795715/posts/default/7022068815877737501?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://nychthemeron.blogspot.com/2013/02/losing-their-way.html" title="Losing their way..." /><author><name>Shruthi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00635222842257175541</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEUFSXg8eip7ImA9WhNbFU0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11795715.post-373217321938260860</id><published>2013-01-18T11:55:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2013-01-18T16:20:18.672+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2013-01-18T16:20:18.672+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="society" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Opinion" /><title>Speaking out</title><content type="html">&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
At a wedding a few years ago, a doting grandfather carrying a one-year-old boy in his arms was doing the rounds, showing off his grandson. &amp;nbsp;"Look at this," he announced to one group, and turned to the little boy, who could barely speak, and said, "Joru maaDu!" (Loosely translated, this means, "Show authority/aggression!" &amp;nbsp;And the little boy said, "Ey!" in a threatening tone, and the grandfather looked around proudly as the group oohed and aahed and pinched the boy's cheeks. &amp;nbsp;It was absolutely sickening.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
This child will grow up thinking that this aggressive behaviour is something to be proud of, and before anybody realizes it, he's being threatening and rude to his parents, and then years later, when he is somebody's husband, he's going to throw his weight around just the same way. &amp;nbsp;And if the wife turns out to be the little girl who had been watching the little boy when he was being fussed over for his display of aggressive behaviour, she will accept it, thinking it is but natural.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
This aggressive behaviour is nurtured by society as a symbol of manhood and masculinity. &amp;nbsp;The sensitive side of little boys is beaten out of existence with repeated chidings, and phrases like "boys don't cry," "crying like a girl." &amp;nbsp;Decades of repressing emotions result in an explosion of rage and violence and aggression in later life. &lt;a href="http://hashspeaks.blogspot.in/2013/01/crying-babies.html"&gt;(Worded well in this blog post.)&lt;/a&gt; &amp;nbsp;This rage, this violence can take the form of short temper and intolerance, to road rage, to child abuse, and right up to, yes, rape. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
With a multitude of voices rising against rape and all that goes to constitute a rape, people are becoming aware that it is not just the rapist who rapes a person, it is the entire society. &amp;nbsp;Every person who indulges in misogynistic comments, every person who laughs at sexist jokes, every person who propagates patriarchal society - everybody is responsible for every rape. &amp;nbsp;And &amp;nbsp;yes, you and me, we are included.&amp;nbsp; &lt;a href="http://genderlog.com/readings/rape-myths-and-reality/"&gt;Rape is rarely about sex alone.&lt;/a&gt; &amp;nbsp;It is about control, rage, domination, punishment. &amp;nbsp;And what gives a person the right to think that he is superior to another being, and is therefore vested with a right to control and punish? &amp;nbsp;This society. &amp;nbsp;You and me. &amp;nbsp;Directly, indirectly. &amp;nbsp;Every time we said something that made divides deeper. &amp;nbsp;Every time we looked the other way when stereotypes were being repeated ad nauseum.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://www.womensweb.in/2013/01/ending-rapes-in-india/"&gt;Not being a rapist is not enough.&lt;/a&gt; &amp;nbsp;Don't let yourself off so easily. &amp;nbsp;There is more we all need to do. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But what? &amp;nbsp;We hear utterly stupid and atrocious quotes about women and rape, by the so-called people-in-charge, and spiritual leaders - these people who wield so much influence on so many people...... and amidst all the anger and outrage these comments evoke, there is also the unmistakable stench of frustration, and desperation - that, you know what? &amp;nbsp;These are not the utterings of some random, misguided, handful of people. &amp;nbsp;These people are speaking from years of societal conditioning, and for every leader who thinks this way, there are lakhs of people who think the exact way.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The scale is too large, too immense to fathom. &amp;nbsp;It feels like a losing battle at times. &amp;nbsp;How will you try and make them understand? &amp;nbsp;How will you unravel the tight binds of those years of patriarchal and misogynist attitudes that pervade our society? &amp;nbsp;It is very frightening, depressing.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And behind it all, one burning question keeps asking itself - how are we going to protect our children in such a world?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
What can we do, as an individual? &amp;nbsp;We can do many things at many different levels. &amp;nbsp;If you are so inclined and accordingly qualified, you can and must get involved in the changes, in the reforms. &amp;nbsp;Maybe you can join in the protests to show what a voice we have. &amp;nbsp;Maybe you can work with rape survivors and help them cope, get back to normal life.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But we all know that the changes &amp;nbsp;have to start from within. &amp;nbsp;From around us. &amp;nbsp;The change has to be wrought in the mindsets of people who cannot think in any other way. &amp;nbsp;But how will you do it?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
One simple way - is to speak up. &amp;nbsp;Speak out against any act of misogyny, patriarchy. &amp;nbsp;Any act that objectifies women. &amp;nbsp;Any argument that trivializes women. &amp;nbsp;Any joke that portrays women in generalized, jaded terms, terms which are unflattering to women, and which only serve to deepen the bias that people have against women.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It is difficult. &amp;nbsp;It is exhausting. &amp;nbsp;I know. &amp;nbsp;There have been many times when I have been too tired to speak out, or have avoided getting drawn into an argument because of lack of time. &amp;nbsp;Sometimes I have backed out just because I have felt that it is not going to be of any use. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I know, it seems too small a step to change this large a phenomenon. &amp;nbsp;But who was it that said, paraphrasing "He is making the greatest mistake who does nothing because he fears it is too little?" &amp;nbsp;Who knows? &amp;nbsp;Your voice might just have an effect. &amp;nbsp;Your voice might be the straw that breaks the camel's back. &amp;nbsp;We need to speak out.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Oh yes, you might be termed a killjoy. &amp;nbsp;But we have remained in our comfort zone too long. &amp;nbsp;It is time we spoke out. &lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nychthemeron.blogspot.com/feeds/373217321938260860/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11795715&amp;postID=373217321938260860" title="7 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11795715/posts/default/373217321938260860?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11795715/posts/default/373217321938260860?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://nychthemeron.blogspot.com/2013/01/speaking-out.html" title="Speaking out" /><author><name>Shruthi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00635222842257175541</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0YGQH0yfyp7ImA9WhNbE00.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11795715.post-3950271482394035493</id><published>2013-01-16T08:28:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2013-01-16T08:28:41.397+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2013-01-16T08:28:41.397+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Published" /><title>Origami - Young World</title><content type="html">&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://www.thehindu.com/todays-paper/tp-features/tp-youngworld/fold-it-up/article4308775.ece"&gt;My article on Origami&lt;/a&gt; appeared in yesterday's Young World (The Hindu)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Yes, I've been silent for far too long - everything's okay, thanks for asking. &amp;nbsp;More soon.&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nychthemeron.blogspot.com/feeds/3950271482394035493/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11795715&amp;postID=3950271482394035493" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11795715/posts/default/3950271482394035493?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11795715/posts/default/3950271482394035493?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://nychthemeron.blogspot.com/2013/01/origami-young-world.html" title="Origami - Young World" /><author><name>Shruthi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00635222842257175541</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0IBQXY5eyp7ImA9WhNXEks.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11795715.post-2289544060156832339</id><published>2012-11-30T14:22:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2012-11-30T14:22:30.823+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-11-30T14:22:30.823+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Puttachi" /><title>Whose love is greater?</title><content type="html">&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
Puttachi and I are being silly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Puttachi:&lt;/b&gt;&amp;nbsp; Amma, I love you thousand million crore.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;I:&lt;/b&gt;&amp;nbsp; I love you thousand million crore + 1&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;She:&lt;/b&gt;&amp;nbsp; I love you as much as you do plus thousand million and forty&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;I:&lt;/b&gt;&amp;nbsp; I love you all that, + 1&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Puttachi&lt;/b&gt; (giggles, gets the hang of it.):&amp;nbsp; I love you as much as you say, plus twenty thousand and one.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;I:&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt; I love you all that you do, multiplied by two.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;She: &lt;/b&gt;I do, multiplied by thousand.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;I:&lt;/b&gt; Ha, whatever you do, I love you more than you love me.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;She:&lt;/b&gt; Why?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;I:&lt;/b&gt;&amp;nbsp; Err.. emmm.....It's just that way.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;She&lt;/b&gt;:&amp;nbsp; How do you know?&amp;nbsp; Are you sure?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;I:&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt; (it seems obvious, but is it true?&amp;nbsp; I don't know.&amp;nbsp; Aloud, I say). mmmmm... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She thinks for a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;She: &lt;/b&gt;Amma, I think I know why.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;I:&lt;/b&gt; Why?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;She:&lt;/b&gt; Because a parent will start loving the child as soon as she is born, maybe even before she is born.&amp;nbsp; But the child has to be born, and then grow a little and realize who she is and who her parents are, and only then will she start loving her parents.&amp;nbsp; So because the parents have started loving the child much earlier, they love the child more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't argue with that!&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nychthemeron.blogspot.com/feeds/2289544060156832339/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11795715&amp;postID=2289544060156832339" title="13 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11795715/posts/default/2289544060156832339?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11795715/posts/default/2289544060156832339?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://nychthemeron.blogspot.com/2012/11/whose-love-is-greater.html" title="Whose love is greater?" /><author><name>Shruthi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00635222842257175541</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUACQnc9eyp7ImA9WhNQE0Q.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11795715.post-2988638070266920734</id><published>2012-11-20T12:06:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2012-11-20T12:12:43.963+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-11-20T12:12:43.963+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Books" /><title>My favourite children's picture book</title><content type="html">&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
My favourite children's book has got to be &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Gruffalo"&gt;"The Gruffalo."&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp; Written by Julia Donaldson and illustrated by Axel Scheffler, this is such a delight.&amp;nbsp; I'll tell you why in a while. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
First I have got to tell you who sent this book to us.&amp;nbsp; &lt;a href="http://shyamram.blogspot.com/"&gt;Shyam&lt;/a&gt; surprised Puttachi and me with these books, sent through the post from the UK.&amp;nbsp; Three books by Julia Donaldson, and one Activity book.&amp;nbsp; And me, she sent me... cough, books on learning Japanese.&amp;nbsp; She knew that I was trying my hand at learning the language, and she sent me some.&amp;nbsp; A perfect surprise, and totally sweet. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Okay, now about the book.&amp;nbsp; Written in verse, it is a delightful story of a little mouse who invents a monstrous Gruffalo to scare away predators, and then meets the very Gruffalo of his own imagination.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The story is adorable.&lt;br /&gt;
It is lovely to read aloud - this is one of the very few books I really enjoy reading out aloud to Puttachi.&amp;nbsp; Such a lovely cadence to it!&lt;br /&gt;
And the illustrations - they take you right into the pages of the book.&amp;nbsp; So bright, so rich!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The two other books, "A Squash and a Squeeze" and "Monkey Puzzle" again by the same author-illustrator team are also absolutely delightful.&amp;nbsp; The first one has a hidden message too, and the second is perfect for little children who love to laugh when people make a funny mistake.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Puttachi loves all the books, and lately she has been sitting with them and trying to read them herself.&amp;nbsp; The Gruffalo unsettles her a little.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; She wants to see the picture of the Gruffalo, she is so drawn to it, but yet she wants to grasp my wrist while she peeks at it.&amp;nbsp; Heh heh.. but seriously it is a very cute and yet scary monster.&amp;nbsp; Hats off to the illustrator who has achieved that effect!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I have not seen it in bookstores here, but it is available &lt;a href="http://www.flipkart.com/the-gruffalo-0333710932/p/itmczz2jvuzgjhdy"&gt;on Flipkart&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Shyam, thank you for hours and hours of enjoyment with the books!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Which is your/your child's favourite picture book!&amp;nbsp; Let us know! &lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nychthemeron.blogspot.com/feeds/2988638070266920734/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11795715&amp;postID=2988638070266920734" title="7 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11795715/posts/default/2988638070266920734?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11795715/posts/default/2988638070266920734?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://nychthemeron.blogspot.com/2012/11/my-favourite-childrens-picture-book.html" title="My favourite children's picture book" /><author><name>Shruthi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00635222842257175541</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DU4HRHY-fSp7ImA9WhNQFEs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11795715.post-7220178961111998182</id><published>2012-11-19T10:26:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2012-11-21T08:48:55.855+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-11-21T08:48:55.855+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Books" /><title>Reviews of two books by writer friends</title><content type="html">&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
This has been a long time coming, but here it is anyway.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I read two books by two writer friends recently.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Tell-A-Thousand-Lies-ebook/dp/B007IX6W8Q"&gt;&lt;b&gt;"Tell a Thousand Lies" by Rasana Atreya.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Nominated for the "Tibor Jones South Asia prize,"&amp;nbsp; this novel tells us about Pullamma, a dark-skinned girl whose only dream is to get married and have a municipal water connection.&amp;nbsp; But fate has other things in store for her, as she becomes a pawn in a crooked politician's power games.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Filled with wit, and astute observations about life, this novel is quite unputdownable.&amp;nbsp; The characters are very well-etched, and I can imagine how difficult it must be to maintain the integrity of a character's identity through a full-length novel, but Rasana has done it. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I think the success of a novel depends on how well you identify and root for the protagonist, and how memorable the other characters are.&amp;nbsp; So considering all that, I would call this novel a success.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
There are twists and turns at every point, and it can keep you turning the pages.&amp;nbsp; Sometimes you wonder whether such events can really happen, but yes, such things indeed do happen.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
There were some parts which I felt was repetitive - especially during emotional scenes where a particular feeling was stressed and re-stressed.&amp;nbsp; But for all you know, that might very well be the reason it worked to engage the reader in the problems of the characters in the story.&amp;nbsp; I know how fine a balance it is, to get the right effect, and if you consider all that, then Rasana has done a good job. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Looking forward to her next books :)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/A-Leap-Blue-Moon-ebook/dp/B008HJILIE"&gt;"Leap in a Blue Moon" by Ishwar Vedam.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
This is a children's book in which the author has woven a story about a girl who is learning about idioms, and then lands up in a place where idioms come to life.&amp;nbsp; If there is a woman with a green thumb, she really has a green thumb.&amp;nbsp; And the long arm of the law is really an all-seeing, great long arm which raps law-breakers (oh how I wish we had something like that in real life!)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I think it is a fabulous idea, great imagination too. The story itself is an exciting adventure, with a very satisfying conclusion.&amp;nbsp; The language is good, clear, but not affected - just right for everybody, not only kids.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The dreamlike quality of the story affected me - even after I stopped reading for a while in the middle, I would keep thinking about it while going about my work.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The negatives - I would have gone in for much tighter editing - I think the reading experience would have been nicer if the book had been a few pages smaller.&amp;nbsp; The dialogues - in some places I felt that it could have flown more naturally.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But worth a read.&amp;nbsp; A good gift for a young friend.&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nychthemeron.blogspot.com/feeds/7220178961111998182/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11795715&amp;postID=7220178961111998182" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11795715/posts/default/7220178961111998182?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11795715/posts/default/7220178961111998182?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://nychthemeron.blogspot.com/2012/11/reviews-of-two-books-by-writer-friends.html" title="Reviews of two books by writer friends" /><author><name>Shruthi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00635222842257175541</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DU8BQn0yfyp7ImA9WhNRGEU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11795715.post-3572877631055883908</id><published>2012-11-14T15:40:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2012-11-14T15:40:53.397+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-11-14T15:40:53.397+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Puttachi" /><title>Making up jokes</title><content type="html">&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
Puttachi loves making up her own jokes. Here are two examples&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall...&lt;br /&gt;
Humpty Dumpty fell down.&lt;br /&gt;
Humpty Dumpty broke....&lt;br /&gt;
But, he smiled!&lt;br /&gt;
Because............. a chick came out!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
***&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Puttachi: So I was talking to Little Puttachi (her imaginary friend) and I was telling Little Puttachi how I like to sleep for ten minutes, and so I set the alarm for ten minutes and lay down to sleep every day.&amp;nbsp; But some days, I fall asleep in one minute, which means I get to sleep for nine minutes.&amp;nbsp; Then on some days, I take two minutes to fall asleep, which means I get to sleep only for eight minutes until the alarm goes off.&amp;nbsp; So what shall I do?&amp;nbsp; I asked Little Puttachi.&amp;nbsp; Do you know what she said?&amp;nbsp; She said, "Set the alarm after you fall asleep!"&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
***&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nychthemeron.blogspot.com/feeds/3572877631055883908/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11795715&amp;postID=3572877631055883908" title="4 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11795715/posts/default/3572877631055883908?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11795715/posts/default/3572877631055883908?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://nychthemeron.blogspot.com/2012/11/making-up-jokes.html" title="Making up jokes" /><author><name>Shruthi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00635222842257175541</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0cHQ3ozcSp7ImA9WhNSFko.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11795715.post-7194927649007816735</id><published>2012-10-31T13:39:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2012-10-31T13:40:32.489+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-10-31T13:40:32.489+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Parenting" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Puttachi" /><title>The right moves</title><content type="html">&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
Children force us to do things we've never done before, or never thought we'd do, or rather not have done.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; In my case, the biggest thing Puttachi did was to make me talk.&amp;nbsp; In these 5 and a half years, I have talked twice as much as I've done my entire life.&amp;nbsp; And she's not letting me stop either.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And now she's making me play chess.&amp;nbsp; I never really liked chess, mainly because I had to use my brains for it.&amp;nbsp; But a few months ago, they created a human chess setup in the park we used to go to.&amp;nbsp; Naturally Puttachi wanted to know what it was all about, and when I explained as best as I could, she wanted me to buy a board for her.&amp;nbsp; Her birthday was approaching, and my co-sister asked me if there was anything particular Puttachi would like for her birthday, and I told her that she's been asking for a chess set.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So that is what she got from them.&amp;nbsp; (It is another story that for some reason, they couldn't give her the present in time, and she ate everybody's head until she finally had the board in her hands.)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I took it easy, actually.&amp;nbsp; I assumed she was too young for it (shows how little I know of other children) and didn't bother to teach her at first.&amp;nbsp; But she insisted, and I taught her the basic moves.&amp;nbsp; She seemed to get the hang of it, but preferred playing her own version of it where all the pieces are friends and don't hit each other.&amp;nbsp; I didn't bother to insist that she play it "correctly" because I still thought she was too young.&amp;nbsp; In retrospect, this was probably a good thing I did, not pressing her to play it the right way, though the reason I did it was wrong. Playing with the pieces made her familiar with them.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And then suddenly, a month ago, she wanted to play chess the "right" way.&amp;nbsp; We started playing then.&amp;nbsp; Of course I beat her every time, but I explained every step to her, and at times, allowed her&amp;nbsp; to go back a few moves and rethink her moves.&amp;nbsp; She seemed to be getting it, but I was still doubtful.&amp;nbsp; And then yesterday, when I made a move, she said, "Oh Amma, watch out.&amp;nbsp; Your bishop is in danger from my knight."&amp;nbsp; And yes, she was right, and I hadn't noticed it (I am not a very good player.)&amp;nbsp; And I was impressed, and told her so.&amp;nbsp; She was pleased too, and she suddenly realized that beating me might not be that far off into the future, and she is all fired up now to play better.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And yet again, I learned two things from this episode.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
1) Never, never underestimate your children's capabilities.&amp;nbsp; Never.&amp;nbsp; Give them the benefit of doubt.&amp;nbsp; Never think they are "too young."&amp;nbsp; You never will know until you try.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
I make this mistake over and over again, and so I thought I must write it down for&amp;nbsp; myself, to read and remember.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
2) If that park had not created that human chess board, we would never have gotten around to talking about chess since I thought it was "too early."&amp;nbsp; And now look how much Puttachi enjoys chess.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
Random happenings lead to unexpected sequences of events that lead elsewhere.&amp;nbsp; You can never tell what will inspire a person (not only children, holds good for adults too) and so it is essential that you give yourself every single opportunity to explore the world,&amp;nbsp; meet people different from you, with different interests.&amp;nbsp; You owe it to yourself.&amp;nbsp; And I am writing this down again for myself, because I can be very lazy about moving myself out of the comfort of my home.&amp;nbsp; Even when I think that I should do it for my daughter, I am not sufficiently inspired at times. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Time to shake things up!&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nychthemeron.blogspot.com/feeds/7194927649007816735/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11795715&amp;postID=7194927649007816735" title="4 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11795715/posts/default/7194927649007816735?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11795715/posts/default/7194927649007816735?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://nychthemeron.blogspot.com/2012/10/the-right-moves.html" title="The right moves" /><author><name>Shruthi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00635222842257175541</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUcNR3gzfyp7ImA9WhNTGEU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11795715.post-4657643616459857642</id><published>2012-10-22T10:48:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2012-10-22T10:48:16.687+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-10-22T10:48:16.687+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Published" /><title>A travel article</title><content type="html">&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
I received a cheque from&amp;nbsp; Deccan Herald in the mail, and had no idea what it was for.&amp;nbsp; They usually have a slip with the cheque and I googled the title from there, and found a travel article that was published a month ago in Sunday Herald.&amp;nbsp; I had read the other features in that same paper, but had missed my own article.&amp;nbsp; *rolling eyes*&amp;nbsp; Anyway, &lt;a href="http://www.deccanherald.com/content/278901/carving-bit-history.html"&gt;this is the article.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nychthemeron.blogspot.com/feeds/4657643616459857642/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11795715&amp;postID=4657643616459857642" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11795715/posts/default/4657643616459857642?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11795715/posts/default/4657643616459857642?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://nychthemeron.blogspot.com/2012/10/a-travel-article.html" title="A travel article" /><author><name>Shruthi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00635222842257175541</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUENRn04fSp7ImA9WhJbFUg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11795715.post-2692139147398952205</id><published>2012-09-25T11:42:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2012-09-25T11:44:57.335+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-09-25T11:44:57.335+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Family" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Books" /><title>Amusing Anecdotes with  Scientists</title><content type="html">&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
One of my grandfather's books, "VijnanigaLodane RasanimishagaLu" (Amusing Anecdotes with Scientists) is perhaps his most popular.&amp;nbsp; It has undergone multiple reprints ever since it was published.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
Many readers of this blog have written to me after getting to know that JR Lakshmana Rao is my grandfather, and have told me how much they value their copy of this book.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
My uncle has translated this into English, and we are looking for publishers.&amp;nbsp; If you, or somebody you know is willing to publish this in English, please mail my uncle at jagalur AT gmail DOT com, or leave a comment on this post, and we can take it up from there&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
The following is &lt;a href="http://safetvalve.blogspot.in/2012/09/amusing-anecdotes-with-scientists.html"&gt;from my uncle's blog &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&amp;nbsp;_________________________________&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
My father, J R Lakshmana Rao, wrote a book called ವಿಜ್ಞಾನಿಗಳೊಡನೆ 
ರಸನಿಮಿಷಗಳು (vijnAnigaLoDane rasanimiSagalu) - a collection of humorous 
anecdotes involving scientists. It was a great success and saw at least 
seven reprints.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
At my father's suggestion, I have translated that book and here is a sample of three incidents.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
Mr. Ramamurthy, the great cartoonist famous through his Mr. Citizen 
cartoons for the Deccan Herald created brilliant cartoons as 
illustrations for the book.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
The way it came about itself is interesting. A friend of my father, who 
knew Mr.&amp;nbsp;Murthy, requested him to provide the illustrations. Like the 
true artist that he was, he had to be coaxed and finally agreed to 
provide some ten illustrations. He had to be provided the pictures of 
some of the lesser well known (to him) scientists so that he could draw 
using them as reference.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The anecdotes apparently caught his fancy and he ended up doing 52 cartoons that enhanced the book immensely!&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I am looking for a publisher to take up the publication of the English 
version. Anyone interested may please contact me. Suggestions are 
welcome too!&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
* &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;* &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;* &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;* &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;* &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;* &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;* &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0JDYQBn7JUE/UEM8BOZUC_I/AAAAAAAAEw4/_3SnS-I_jL0/s1600/img611_S.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0JDYQBn7JUE/UEM8BOZUC_I/AAAAAAAAEw4/_3SnS-I_jL0/s1600/img611_S.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0JDYQBn7JUE/UEM8BOZUC_I/AAAAAAAAEw4/_3SnS-I_jL0/s1600/img611_S.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0JDYQBn7JUE/UEM8BOZUC_I/AAAAAAAAEw4/_3SnS-I_jL0/s320/img611_S.jpg" width="260" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 6pt; text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;The Boy who Would not Let Read&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 6pt; text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 6pt; text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 6pt; text-align: justify;"&gt;
If you are asked to name the three greatest mathematicians of all times,
 it is difficult to leave out the name of Karl Friedrich Gauss, the 
German mathematician, physicist and astronomer who lived during the 
seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 6pt; text-align: justify;"&gt;
As a professor at Göttingen for many years, he brought name and fame to 
the university. His mathematical acumen was recognised from his 
childhood. He was a child prodigy.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 6pt; text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;span style="line-height: 150%;"&gt;Gauss’ father was an assistant to a 
civil contractor. He had the habit of sitting in the courtyard of his 
house and doing all his paper work. He was sitting there one payday and 
was paying the labourers their weekly wages. He called out the name and 
mentioned the wage paid to each labourer. Then he noted it down in a 
ledger. After every one was paid, he totalled up the wages. He read out 
the numbers aloud while he did so. When he finished the list and wrote 
down the total, Gauss who was playing in the yard said, “Your total is 
wrong. It falls short by eighty-three Marks.” The surprised father did 
the addition again and found that the child was right. Gauss was just a 
toddler of three at that time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;span style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;"&gt;A few years later the boy started
going to school. One day the teacher was in no mood to teach but could not let
the students off. He hit upon an idea to keep the students busy. He asked the
boys to write down all the numbers from1 to 200 and add them up. He was sure
that this would keep them busy for quite some time. He then settled down to
read a novel, sure of an hour of peace and quiet. To make sure, he added, “No
mistakes! Once you are finished, check it all again.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 6pt; text-align: justify;"&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; He had not read even half a page
when Gauss stood up and said, “Sir, the answer is 20,100”, and the answer was
right. The teacher, in shock, asked, “How did you do it so fast?”&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 6pt; text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 6pt; text-align: justify;"&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Gauss said, “I used the formula”:&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; (n × (n +1)) ÷ 2 &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 6pt; text-align: justify;"&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; =
(200 × (200 +1)) ÷ 2&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 6pt; text-align: justify;"&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; =
20100&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 6pt; text-align: justify;"&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 6pt; text-align: justify;"&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; “Who taught you the formula?”,
wailed the teacher.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 6pt; text-align: justify;"&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; “I arrived at it myself”, said the
boy.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 6pt; text-align: justify;"&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; “When?!”&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 6pt; text-align: justify;"&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; “Just now”, said the little imp.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 6pt; text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 6pt; text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 6pt; text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;Ah! That Elusive Word
. . . . &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 6pt; text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iKuOM2frcK8/UEM9eBCjJwI/AAAAAAAAExA/q-oUMLjE9Ds/s1600/img631_S.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iKuOM2frcK8/UEM9eBCjJwI/AAAAAAAAExA/q-oUMLjE9Ds/s320/img631_S.JPG" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 6pt; text-align: left;"&gt;
&lt;span style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"&gt;A student of Norbert Wiener, the
renowned mathematician and father of Cybernetics, had great admiration for him.
But, he had not had an opportunity to talk to him. One morning, when the
student went to the Post Office, Wiener was there. He was looking intently at a
sheet of paper on the desk. The student, being an ardent admirer, saw immense
concentration in that look. He did not know if he could talk to him. Wiener
suddenly left the paper, walked to the opposite wall, stood there for a moment
and returned to the paper and started staring at it again. The admirer still
did not know if he could talk to him. Wiener left the paper again but, this time,
walked directly towards the admiring student. Now he had to, at least, greet
him. He did. “Good morning Professor Wiener”, he said. A smile broke out on the
face that was so serious until then. He stopped, stared at the student for a
moment. He then slapped hisforehead and exclaimed, “Ah! It is Wiener. Isn’t
it? I just could not recall that elusive word, however hard I tried. Thanks!”
He now returned to the paper and continued filling the form.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 6pt; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 6pt; text-align: left;"&gt;
&lt;span style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 6pt; text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;b&gt;Different
points of view&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 6pt; text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Q1DGNvVHnGU/UEM-oXxQ_FI/AAAAAAAAExI/7hFygRCGitE/s1600/img624_S.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Q1DGNvVHnGU/UEM-oXxQ_FI/AAAAAAAAExI/7hFygRCGitE/s320/img624_S.jpg" width="260" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 6pt; text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;span style="line-height: 150%;"&gt;When the first experimental nuclear explosion was carried out in a desert in New Mexico, all the scientists and
officials connected with the atomic bomb project had gathered in a safe place,
a good distance away from the explosion site, to witness the test. Both Leslie
Groves, a two star general, who was the military director of the project and
Robert Oppenheimer, the scientific director of the project, were there.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 6pt; text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;span style="line-height: 150%;"&gt;A newspaper reporter, awed by the
explosion, asked Oppenheimer, “What did you see?” A perturbed Oppenheimer
replied, “….the end of the world”.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 6pt; text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;span style="line-height: 150%;"&gt;The reporter asked the two star
general the same question. “The third star”, was the prompt reply.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 6pt; text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;span style="line-height: 150%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 6pt; text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;span style="line-height: 150%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 6pt; text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;span style="line-height: 150%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 6pt; text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 6pt; text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;b&gt;Not a
Question, a Statement&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 6pt; text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RiFtMX3Pysg/UENA85miz-I/AAAAAAAAExY/N2MAxmRVAsY/s1600/img622.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RiFtMX3Pysg/UENA85miz-I/AAAAAAAAExY/N2MAxmRVAsY/s320/img622.jpg" width="230" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 6.0pt; text-align: justify;"&gt;
Paul Dirac was notorious for his extreme taciturnity. Once he gave a talk in an American university. At the end of the talk, the
chairman invited questions from the audience. Someone got up and said, “I did
not understand such and such in your talk” and sat down. Dirac sat comfortably
without saying anything. Everyone was curious and after sometime even
uncomfortable. The chairman asked rather hesitantly, “Prof. Dirac, could you
please answer that question?”&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 6.0pt; text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;span style="line-height: 150%;"&gt;“That was not a question but, a statement of
fact” replied Dirac nonchalantly.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nychthemeron.blogspot.com/feeds/2692139147398952205/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11795715&amp;postID=2692139147398952205" title="13 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11795715/posts/default/2692139147398952205?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11795715/posts/default/2692139147398952205?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://nychthemeron.blogspot.com/2012/09/amusing-anecdotes-with-scientists.html" title="Amusing Anecdotes with  Scientists" /><author><name>Shruthi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00635222842257175541</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0JDYQBn7JUE/UEM8BOZUC_I/AAAAAAAAEw4/_3SnS-I_jL0/s72-c/img611_S.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0ANQn49fSp7ImA9WhJUFk0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11795715.post-2522149137965106516</id><published>2012-09-14T13:32:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2012-09-14T13:33:13.065+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-09-14T13:33:13.065+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Lifestyle" /><title>An open kitchen</title><content type="html">&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
As a cook, I suffer from a severe dichotomy.&amp;nbsp; One part of me loves cooking, and the other part hates to spend too much time in the kitchen.&amp;nbsp; So I am always looking for shortcuts and quick-fixes so that I can get the tastiest and healthiest food ready in the least possible time.&amp;nbsp; I feel particularly bad when I feel I am missing out on family time.&amp;nbsp; In the house we lived in previously, it kept coming to my mind that an open kitchen would solve this problem.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
On our house-hunt, when we looked at this apartment that we ended up buying, we liked it because it fulfilled a majority of our requirements in all respects.&amp;nbsp; But we knew that the apartment would require some major rework for it to suit our needs.&amp;nbsp; The greatest problem was with the kitchen and the store room, and we found that the simplest and logical solution to make it airy and spacious was to break open some walls, combine the kitchen and the store room space and make it a wide open kitchen.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So, a lot, and I mean a lot of work later, the kitchen has been modified to suit me, and the best part of it is, yes, it is an open kitchen.&amp;nbsp; It integrates seamlessly into the drawing room and dining room, creating the sense of a lot of space. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So this open kitchen has made such a difference to our lives, that I just had to write about it.&amp;nbsp; A major problem in the previous kitchen was that when I was in the kitchen, Puttachi would clamour for my attention, if not for anything, just for me to hear her talk or watch her draw, or be with her when she ate.&amp;nbsp; Even if I pulled a chair inside the kitchen for her, it was a little congested, and there were only a few things she could do in there.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Now, with this kitchen, complete with a kitchen table, Puttachi sits at the table when I cook.&amp;nbsp; She talks to me, she eats, and she reads or draws or does whatever she wants to - I am happy because I can be with her, and yet get my cooking done, and she is happy that I don't have to keep running away into the kitchen.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Such a great set up. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The other advantages are all secondary, though they are important too.&amp;nbsp; When there are guests, I don't feel cut off if I am finishing up something in the kitchen, or if I have chosen a menu which needs me to linger in the kitchen.&amp;nbsp; And guests also feel free to enter the kitchen and sit at the kitchen table - because the&amp;nbsp; kitchen is no longer a separate space which is out of bounds.&amp;nbsp; It makes things more comfortable and informal. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And in general, I feel more connected with the happenings around the house even if nobody is in the kitchen with me.&amp;nbsp; And this open kitchen has kind of made the kitchen a central part of the house.&amp;nbsp; We also have our meals at the kitchen table.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Another associated advantage is that when I finish my meal first, and Puttachi is stil eating, I can rise from the table and start clearing up without making Puttachi complain that I am "abandoning" her.&amp;nbsp; So by the time Puttachi's meal is done, the kitchen is wound up too!&amp;nbsp; What joy :)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Of course there are negatives too.&amp;nbsp; You are forced to keep the kitchen neat and tidy all the time in case of surprise visitors (which is actaully a good thing for messy and lazy cooks like me.)&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
You cannot steal a quick bite if there are visitors sitting in the drawing room. :)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And the smell of course.&amp;nbsp; A good chimney is a necessity for an open kitchen, is what I feel, to contain the smells of cooking. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Another disadvantage is that you cannot hold back the sounds of the kitchen within - for example, clanging of steel vessels, and the whirr of the mixer.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And I am sure I'll discover more disadvantages (and advantages) as the years go by... but yet, I really feel that these disadvantages are minor when compared to the change in lifestyle that an open kitchen has given me.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Yes, open kitchens are not very popular in our culture, because traditionally, cooking is a private affair, and the kitchen is a sacrosanct place.&amp;nbsp; Also, some people are just not comfortable with it, and I can totally understand that feeling.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But I wanted to share my experience with you, because if you have the temperament and the opportunity, do go in for an open kitchen - it is such a life-changer!&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nychthemeron.blogspot.com/feeds/2522149137965106516/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11795715&amp;postID=2522149137965106516" title="11 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11795715/posts/default/2522149137965106516?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11795715/posts/default/2522149137965106516?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://nychthemeron.blogspot.com/2012/09/an-open-kitchen.html" title="An open kitchen" /><author><name>Shruthi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00635222842257175541</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkACQHw5cSp7ImA9WhJUFUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11795715.post-6475014720689625316</id><published>2012-09-13T11:09:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2012-09-13T11:09:21.229+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-09-13T11:09:21.229+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Puttachi" /><title>The day is here!</title><content type="html">&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
Yesterday, there was an unnatural silence at home, and when children are silent, it makes you worry.&amp;nbsp; So I ran to see what was up, and saw something that I had been waiting for, for 5 years and 3 months (yeah all of Puttachi's life)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
She was sitting, reading a book, all by herself.&amp;nbsp; Reading, yes, not just looking at the pics - and the key phrase here is, "by herself."&amp;nbsp; The day is finally here when I can start piling up the books next to her and leave her alone to read by herself and give my ears some rest :)&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nychthemeron.blogspot.com/feeds/6475014720689625316/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11795715&amp;postID=6475014720689625316" title="12 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11795715/posts/default/6475014720689625316?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11795715/posts/default/6475014720689625316?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://nychthemeron.blogspot.com/2012/09/the-day-is-here.html" title="The day is here!" /><author><name>Shruthi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00635222842257175541</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUANRnw_fyp7ImA9WhJVE0w.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11795715.post-6145278514546205321</id><published>2012-08-30T14:35:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2012-08-30T14:39:57.247+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-08-30T14:39:57.247+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Lifestyle" /><title>Excess baggage</title><content type="html">&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
One of my PG-mates in Mumbai came to the city with three suitcases.&amp;nbsp; She got the last available accommodation in our PG place, but that room didn't come with much storage space.&amp;nbsp; So, she transfered her essential items into one of her suitcases, and left the other two in her father's friends house, to collect "when she got more space."&amp;nbsp; She stayed in the city for 1.5 years, and managed very well with the things she had in her one suitcase.&amp;nbsp; She did occasionally mention something or the other that was in one of "those suitcases" but it was clear she did not need them.&amp;nbsp; When she left Mumbai, I went with her to drop her at the railway station.&amp;nbsp; We took a taxi, went to the friend's house, picked up "those suitcases" and went to the station.&amp;nbsp; So in the end, those two suitcases with their contents just ended up having a ride to and from Mumbai, and a good hibernation in someone's loft.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Ok, what I am getting at is this - my friend could make do with the essential things in that one suitcase for 18 months.&amp;nbsp; Yet, she dragged two times more baggage with her when she came. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I have been remembering this ever since our move.&amp;nbsp; Comparatively, we don't have too much stuff in our house.&amp;nbsp; Both S and I are very careful to buy just what we need and nothing more.&amp;nbsp; In fact, the bulk of the stuff is Puttachi's, since I don't know where to draw the line, sometimes.&amp;nbsp; Yet, her things are much less compared to what I see in other kids' houses. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
When we moved here, two of my friends laughed when they saw so many full-length built in cupboards in our new house.&amp;nbsp; "All the clothes of all three of you will fit into just one of these cupboards," they said.&amp;nbsp; "What do you need the others for?"&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And yet, in spite of having such less stuff, I realize how many things we have that we can make do without. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The weekend before the move, I packed and sent across all the non-essential things, and managed for more than a week without them, and didn't miss them either.&amp;nbsp; And then when we moved, we took the essentials with us.&amp;nbsp; And naturally, when we started to set up house, we&amp;nbsp; unpacked the essentials first, and due to various reasons (not the least of which is lack of motivation and laziness) I am yet to unpack the non-essentials. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Yes, I do remember something from those things, sometimes - saying, oh I wish I had this handy, but the point is, I can make do without them.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
How much we accumulate, without even realizing it, when in reality, all we need are just a few things!&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nychthemeron.blogspot.com/feeds/6145278514546205321/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11795715&amp;postID=6145278514546205321" title="16 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11795715/posts/default/6145278514546205321?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11795715/posts/default/6145278514546205321?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://nychthemeron.blogspot.com/2012/08/excess-baggage.html" title="Excess baggage" /><author><name>Shruthi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00635222842257175541</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>16</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0QEQX09fCp7ImA9WhJWFkQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11795715.post-1146282620208293408</id><published>2012-08-23T10:48:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2012-08-23T10:51:40.364+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-08-23T10:51:40.364+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Parenting" /><title>In defence: Television</title><content type="html">&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
&lt;b&gt;How come Puttachi doesn't watch television?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It is because it is not a way of life in our house.&amp;nbsp; It is just another appliance that we use once in a while.&amp;nbsp; When I am bored, I never switch on the television for entertainment.&amp;nbsp; Most of our television watching is selected, and done after Puttachi goes to bed.&amp;nbsp; So she doesn't see the television on too often (never on weekdays) and so for her, it is not an option for entertainment.&amp;nbsp; Doesn't even figure in her list of things to do. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But you let her watch movies and videos and animated songs.&amp;nbsp; How is that alright?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The two main things I have against television are:&lt;br /&gt;
I have no control over the programmes that are aired.&lt;br /&gt;
I have no wish to expose her to advertisements right now.&amp;nbsp; There is enough time for that later!&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Movies and videos - I have control. I know what she is watching.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
As for movies, I always, always watch it with her the first time, guide her through confusing/emotional scenes - make her understand what is happening.&amp;nbsp; Subsequent viewings - I don't mind if she watches it alone.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But once again, I have rules - &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
- never on weekdays (barring exceptional circumstances)&lt;br /&gt;
- on weekends, no more than an hour or hour and a half per day.&amp;nbsp; And not on every weekend either.&lt;br /&gt;
- and as far as I can help it, no eating anything while watching the screen.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you have against watching anything?&amp;nbsp; TV, movies?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Television is addictive.&amp;nbsp; It can become a habit.&amp;nbsp; And I know that when Puttachi is watching a movie, she is immune to everything - sleep, hunger, thirst, even the calls of nature.&amp;nbsp; If I hit the pause button for some reason, she comes out of the trance, realizes she needs to go the loo, and runs.&amp;nbsp; What kind of a medium is this that can hypnotize an active child in that way?&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And every hour spent watching the screen means an hour less of imaginative, creative play, physical activity, socialization, reading, crafting...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;You're keeping her away from reality. &lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
If all that sexism, racism, stereotypes, violence and sex that we see even on kids' television is reality, then she is better off being away from it as long as I can help it.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;She's going to feel isolated from her friends.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
She might.&amp;nbsp; When her friends were talking about "This was on Nick," I overheard her asking, "Who is Nick?"&amp;nbsp; And her friends said, "Whaaaat, you don't know Nick?"&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So far, she has got on quite well without having any problems.&amp;nbsp; It might change very soon, but I'll handle that when we get to it.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;She's going to rebel later on and watch a lot of television.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Not if she's hooked on to other more interesting things, in my opinion.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you think about parents who let their children watch television?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
To each their own - the situation in every home is different, and I, sitting here, cannot possibly pass judgement on anybody without knowing why people choose what they do.&amp;nbsp; I know how tempting it can be - to plonk the child in front of the tv, and get all your work done, get some much needed alone time.....&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But I do think that the harmful effects of extensive TV-watching far outweigh the advantages that the caregivers get from letting the child watch too much TV - so, yes, do take informed decisions, and of course, limits and rules definitely help.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nychthemeron.blogspot.com/feeds/1146282620208293408/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11795715&amp;postID=1146282620208293408" title="8 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11795715/posts/default/1146282620208293408?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11795715/posts/default/1146282620208293408?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://nychthemeron.blogspot.com/2012/08/in-defence-television.html" title="In defence: Television" /><author><name>Shruthi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00635222842257175541</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry></feed>
