CHERRY BLOSSOMS !

An evening at the Cellular Jail Swaraj Dweep

2025-02-21T21:35:00.000-08:00

In the struggle for freedom...

When I visited the Cellular Jail in Port Blair, I was already aware of the atrocities and the sufferings of the freedom fighters at the hands of the British. However I wasn't prepared for the thoughts and emotions that left me numb and terribly scared. The photographs in the museum and the life like statues were a stark reminder of the hardship.

That hit me really hard and for the first time in my life, I felt as if I was travelling back in time. I wouldn't trade my freedom for a day there. I would have perhaps joined the thousands who would have preferred to be subservient to the colonial Lords. What a pity !

The dingy dark cells are not just proof of what could have happened then. They remind us of the high cost of freedom. May we never take our precious freedom for granted🙏

How cruel could the British be ? Was I ignorant of the struggle ? No I wasn't but I wasn't totally aware of the reality too. What I did not learn or know from history was playing out in front of my blurred eyes....

Heart wrenching to say the least. While the freedom fighters struggled to stay alive, other fellow Indians sold themselves to the British in order to stay alive...

We say that the freedom fighters laid down their lives fighting for the independence of Bharat, as if they did it willingly. In reality they would have wanted to live. They escaped, fled and stayed hidden. But ! Every single freedom fighter who threatened the existence of the British was hunted down, dragged out of hideouts and sent to prison at the dreaded Kala Pani. They were tortured, demotivated and forced to give up their lives. In other words, the chosen ones were killed mercilessly.

As I walked through the prison corridors, the words of the cruel jailers seemed to echo in my ears. Every action taken in the jail premises was an order for a harsh punishment. No prisoner could escape the wrath of the jailer. The construction of the jail itself is proof of how British feared the courageous freedom fighters. Even if a prisoner managed to scale the walls to escape, there was no land in sight for miles and no means to cross the waters. Surrounded by sea on all sides, the island was the perfect place to keep the revolutionaries away from the mainland...

While the jail housed the revolutionaries who existed in dire conditions, the other parts of Port Blair and nearby islands were designed as residential townships offering luxury and recreational facilities for the British and their families. Neither the revolutionaries nor the Britishers live to tell the saga but the ruins of the buildings, clubs, churches paint a grimy picture of the colonial rule that had opulence all around with Kala Pani in the centre ..

Personally, I don't have any grouse against names of places. However, if you encroach my home and name it as you please, I will fight and seize the opportunity to make it mine again and will rename it also. This is the story in a nutshell of how entire Bharat was encroached. Long after independence, finally, as a mark of the untold sacrifices that lead to the freedom of Bharat, Port Blair was renamed as Sri Vijayapuram and rightly so....

Seemingly scary beyond imagination, an authority that becomes a dictatorship will be resisted in one's own country ruled by one's own people. However, when those at the helm are a foreign power and the subjugated, the real owners of the country, the resistance becomes a freedom movement. In such a scenario, when almost the entire country supports the fight for freedom, the civil disobedience movement becomes more terrifying than the rule of the dictatorship itself....

Punishments were the only means to break the morale of the freedom fighters. By ensuring that fellow Indians executed and implemented the cruel orders, the Britishers were carrying out a psychological warfare. However the world including the British were unaware that a silent rebellion leading to freedom would begin in the jail itself...

Not all sacrifices are known to the world. Not all names are glorified except as a memory in the form of photographs in the jail museum & in the cells. It's been 6 decades since independence & only now the common Indian knows a few facts about Shri Veer Damodar Savarkar. Inspite of hustling tourists & the chatter, there is an eerie silence inside the cells & the long corridors, each cell now symbolic of the sacrifice & pain.

An iron grill door at the entrance of each cell fortified with a double way iron long handle latch, a narrow window at the top of each cell & a tiny opening on the outer wall that enables passing a plate with unpalatable food are the only connect to the outside world....

The visit to the cellular jail was an eye opener. Today we live in a free country and yet complain over small difficulties. I shudder to even imagine the plight of the prisoners wearing coarse unwearable cloths, toiling day and night in chains and fetters. Their hands bled & yet they had no choice but to continue to remove the fibre from coconuts & work manually to produce oil at the mill inside the jail premises. They were flogged & thrashed to keep working until they dropped dead or became unconscious. The most severe of punishments entailed hanging unto death. The intention of the colonial government was to serve a stern warning to the revolutionaries & prevent Bharat from becoming free.....

Navratri 2023

2023-09-27T21:52:00.000-07:00

GOLU AS I SEE IT !

"WOW ! Not bad at all,you are making good progress" I mumbled to myself. The pre Navrathri work was taking up most of my time.

"Please the mother Goddess for nine days.Sing hymns in her praise and chant her divine name a thousand times," my mother says till today. When I was young, I would listen to her, in rapt attention as she rendered lovely musical compositions all in praise of the Divine Mother.

"Shall we play a game of pallankuzhi ?" Durga whispered sweetly into my ears. Swiftly, I turned around and finding no one, I went about my evening chores with her in my mind. With golu to commence from the next day, I was busy with pre golu arrangements.

Only earlier in the day I had brought down the pallanguzhi from the loft above. "She must have seen me doing that and now she wants me to play with her, " thinking aloud, I started to write.

"She has come. It's her. I know too well. She is here.Ya Devi ! What will I do ? I am not ready as yet ", jumping with enthusiasm, in recognising her presence, I lit the oil lamp at the altar, prayed fervently, made a glass of fresh lime juice for myself and called Gurumoorthy the potti kadai owner.

Amma...the voice from the other end sounded very clear.

" Sundal kadalai vagaigal thaane...Naalaikku ellaam ara ara kilo anuppidaren, " saying he disconnected abruptly. Nevertheless, my purpose achieved, I heaved a sigh of relief. Gurumoorthy is known to keep his word....

When I recall my childhood days, Navrathri Golu was celebrated with much fan fare. Resources were limited but the house I grew up in boasted of an abundance of an array of mud dolls. We lived in a joint family and the love for art was infused in me from the day, I started observing and learning.

Today when I start planning for the golu, I am reminded of how an agile grandmother and a creative mother went about arranging and decorating the golu steps.

The carpenter was called in and the wooden kitchen planks got a transformation. My mother made alternative arrangements in the kitchen and the big pooja room wore a festive look. The kitchen planks must have been eight to ten feet wide. The five steps were covered with a soft white cloth which was reused every year. I think of it now and I am really amused. Over the years the colour of the cloth changed from white to cream with fine dotted prints of turmeric and kumkum gradually spreading all over. The cover however remained the same.

I use a new covering sheet every year. From plain coloured cloth sheets to printed sheets and gift colour paper, I have used them all. This year as I will celebrate yet again I realise that, the triumph of good over evil has to do more with introspection and cleansing one's own inner self.

While talking about festivals, the first festival that always comes to my mind by default is the Navrathri Golu. As we all know, the Navratri Golu is a nine day festival that begins on Mahalaya Amavasya day and ends on Vijaya Dashami day.

Legend has it that Goddess Durga was entrusted with the task of slaying Mahisasura and restoring peace to the universe. By praying to Durga lakshmi and saraswathi, the festival glorifies Mahashakti. Mahisasura is symbolic of the evil in the self. Durga represents the good in us. Essentially the festival helps us to introspect within ourselves. It is an opportunity to cleanse the mind and fill it with good thoughts. It is an opportunity to learn the essence of calm that comes naturally when one is engrossed in prayers, chanting of the Lakshmi sahasranamam, good conversation and exchange of the thamboolam.

I always go with the festive flow. The flow is crazy, getting crazier and more creative with every passing year and friends are way too enterprising. No externally imposed rules to do this or do that, helps me to space out my priorities during this time of the year. However, It is a self imposed regulation to prepare a Maha neivedyam and as I perform the aarathi every day, I truly feel good. The atmosphere is charged with positive vibes and post Navratri the aura remains till the next Navratri.

How is that possible ? You may ask. Well ! the lofts being full I am now compelled to keep a part of my golu collection on display throughout the year.

Healthy competition at this time of the year in the form of rangolis and decorations, helps fostering mutual inspiration, builds camaraderie and hence we should all go for it. That is what my mother says and she still stresses upon this most important aspect.

Festivals are not just about blindly following rituals. If our ancestors have set down certain rules, we should abide by them, not because the Gods will be displeased if we fail to follow them but because the Gods will be pleased if we are able to awaken the divine consciousness within ourselves. The awakening is not possible without taking a new step towards a spiritual advancement, without trying something new, without the will to create and work so that it makes a good difference to the individual, the society at large. That is how I celebrate festivals happily. God is in Good.

Golu means an opportunity to compete with ourselves, to do something extra and welcome Mother Goddess when she starts her journey towards the victory of good over evil. For a fortnight, she changes the atmosphere in every home. The Golu room gets a makeover. The goodness all pervading with her presence all around the year, Golu is only an annual excuse to meet friends and share the happiness. From mud dolls to papiermache and home made origami, golu is also a showcase of one's own skills

A simple fact that comes into my mind immediately, is that the whole idea of trying to think out of the box can happen only when one is forced to do something out of routine. That is how the humble golu park was born. That is how friends and loved ones started meeting one another and so started the exchange of thamboolams. That was when the need to be hospitable arose. That is how tradition, customs and good manners were taught. That was when women and girls got an opportunity to showcase their skills in and outside the kitchen....

Can you hear the clanks of the weapons and the growl of thunder or is it me only ?...Come Navrathri and my ears start ringing with the sound of the drums and the clash of the dandiya. I hear the sound of anger, the rumble in the clouds and the final beat of the drums that will mark the celebration of the vanquish of evil.

The skies are clear in the day and overcast in the evenings. The sun is playing hide and seek. I looked out of the window...Signs, indicating that MA was indeed behind the clouds, well on her mission. The story teller in me had awakened albeit temporarily.

Elsewhere from different parts of the state to which I owe my upbringing, artisans were giving the final touches. Starting Amavasya day the long festival begins with the rendition of the Mahalaya Chandi Path. Friends invite one another for manjal kumkumam . It is an opportunity to dress up in shimmering silks and beautiful jewellery. It is that time of the year to go traditional and keep our culture alive. Guests are welcomed with Jasmine flowers and a fruit drink. Nowadays it is common to treat guests to a mixed platter of sundal, a special sweet and a tasty snack such as sevai bonda and vadai.

It is also that time of the year when the artisans are out to earn their livelihood. We have a responsibility to support their livelihood. I have to necessarily step out and go inside the bazaar, into the mada streets in Mylapore.

We are duty bound to support the artisans. We do that in our own interest and in order to further their interests, we have to compulsively shop till we drop. That is how my golu has evolved over the years.

This is when I spend without thinking twice, because I know that this exercise can never be futile. It will certainly entail a few visits to fill my cart, an addition to the wardrobe and the overhead lofts but any accumulation that satisfies the inner self, satisfaction stemming from the fact that acts of purchasing are acts of kindness and reasons for smiles, is a sure sign of spiritual advancement.

Expenditure classified as justified, therefore, raises the happiness quotient to a level from where more than being satisfied with one’s own way of working, acknowledging and encouraging talent becomes the prime objective of the exercise with selfies taking a back seat, in favour of pictures of handlooms, handicrafts and artisans. Golu raises the happiness quotient. Golu brings people across all walk of life togetrher. Golu fosters good will and sisterhood.

When Shakti, all pervading, in the form of Durga, Lakshmi and Saraswathy is set to arrive, bringing festive cheer to homes across the world, isn't it our foremost duty to welcome her with tasty sundal, colourful lights, festoons and golu bommais ?

"Learn a lesson from the clay ," my mother says."Life is not a bed of roses but you have the power and the strength to mould it as you wish. Lead a pious life and be flexible.Try to be as eco friendly as possible. Our Earth is rich in resources. Use the resources carefully. The Earth is sacred ,and worship Bhoomi Ma." she would go on....

She would repeatedly say...

"So ! Give the Golu an eco touch.

Decorate the steps with mud dolls and wooden dolls.Remember to connect with the earth .We rise from dust to go back to dust. " her words were ringing in my ears.

Thank Goddess, but for her where would we be ? But for her strong presence in each one of us as an inner voice, where would we be ? "

The steps assembled, neatly covered and dolls set in their rightful positions Golu begins.

Her words are ringing in my ears.

"Place the kalash first on Amavasya and the mara pachi dolls to rest first on Vijaya Dashami before bringing down all the dolls on Ekadasi," saying Mother Goddess placed her arms around me and held me tight.

"I am waging a war ," she says today. "Righteousness will triumph. The guilty will be punished," she added...

Woah ! The timing couldn't have been more perfect ! I thought....

At a time, when the spiritual mood is euphoric, as the verses from Sri Lalitha Sahasranamam echo in my ears, my unflinching faith in the power of the divine Mahisasuramardini gets firmly reinforced yet again........

A Call to Spy...A Review

2021-03-09T20:41:00.002-08:00

"A Call to Spy" now streaming on Amazon Prime is a World War II film based on incredible real life stories. Directed by Lydia Dean Pilcher and starring Sarah Megan Thomas, Radhika Apte, Stana Katic, Linus Roache, Rossif Sutherland in the main roles, the heroine centric film is about the dangerous but courageous lives of spies who helped resistance efforts in Hitler occupied France in the early and mid 1940s. Set in Hitler's Nazi reign, the true life stories come starkingly real on the screen .

Noor Inayat Khan, played by Indian actress Radhika Apte has portrayed her character remarkably well. Noor, born to an India-born Sufi mystic and a British mother. Is selected for her wireless skills and is posted in one of the toughest jobs during the war.

Thomas, who wrote the film and produced it stars brilliantly as the limping Virginia Hall secretly overseeing the recruitment of spies whilst changing her appearance often even as her "wanted " pics are splashed on walls and distributed publicly in Nazi dominated France.

A freak accident having left her with a leg amputated below the knee, Hall makes her way into the F Section of the British Special Operations and operates out of 13, Baker Street, before heading to France. She silently nurses the ambition to be a US diplomat one day but her disability means America won’t let her become one.

The spy women exude calm and dignified courage, especially required of women who must mollify male egos while making their way through dangerous territory. In their challenging roles they quietly earn the trust and friendship needed to build a network right under the noses of a ruthless Gestapo army. However, it is one such trusted associate acting as a double agent who betrays Virginia's team, leading to compromising Noor's codes and the capture and killing of many agents.

Notwithstanding her disability, braving all odds and inclement weather, Virginia however manages to escape from France and resumes her mission after getting trained in the wireless.

Katic plays Vera Atkins, a Romanian Jew spearheading the British Special Operations. A brilliant actor, Katic’s Atkins is a character, constantly battling her own fears, of being Jewish born, of not being accepted and trusted by some of her associates.

Pilcher does well to bring out the emotions, frustrations and fear in the minds of the French citizens who are a silenced lot, suffering under the strict Nazi regime. A doctor who is Virginia’s initial contact is one fearless agent who keeps the resistance burning until his end.

Backed by spectacular performances, strong writing, the film’s narrative comes alive describing the tone and tenor of the 1940s France and the UK. There is attention to detail in every frame. The conversation between characters is non-dramatic but powerful.

" A Call to Spy " heartwarmingly acknowledges the heroic efforts of the agents, and there is a note about each at the end of the movie. The heroes including Noor were later decorated by the French and British governments and today this movie deserves a ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

The Crown as I see it !

2020-12-17T20:12:00.000-08:00

I am binge watching, The Crown, now streaming on Netflix. A friend suggested and I started with the first of the drama series and now I am into the fourth .

At the end of it, I would be aware, much about the personal lives of some of the royals. This is not what I would I have ideally liked to know. But when one watches "The Crown " one should have expected that. I did and though I enjoyed the screenplay, the Queen's language, palaces and their significance, knowing about the events from history, listening to the political dialogues with much interest, learning about the rigid protocols and the strange courtesys, I must admit that the personal struggles of the members of the royal family and the scandals put me off completely.

I wonder how the royal family is reacting to this series especially on the divulging of information which though perhaps known to the world may now cause to open up old wounds, the royals would rather prefer to forget.

It is highly unlikely that the personal stories are going to stay in my mind, long after I am done watching, because I choose to remember tales in movies or theatre where whatever is portrayed is not anything close to being so stark real as in The Crown.

However, the beautiful locales, the picturesque countrysides, the majestic horses are fascinating to view and to be able to take a peek into the grand palaces is the icing on the cake. Hidden beneath the fairytale lifestyles, gorgeous gowns and kingly robes are ordinary men and women who long for love, recognition and appreciation from their own family members.

Beneath the facade of luxury and the pride in their ancestry, stories of valour, accession, ego, pomp, abdications, betrayals, wealth and power, lies the desperateness, the anxieties, the pressures of royal commitments, which seldom dissapear to bring about a sense of real calm and unbridled joy, so easily attainable to commoners like you and me.

But then, this is the life of a royale for you. Choose it or leave it. The royal life can be all flattering outwardly with chaos within. Not being able to grant approval or show great happiness in acts or achievements involving family members, while bound by rules, requires a great amount of energy which can be draining, both mentally and physically and yet a royal is supposed to be just that and show up as if all is well. Is the trend changing ? I think so and I really hope it does.

The most expensive jewels and flattering dresses can never heal the broken royal hearts that beat unseen. The struggles are real. The voices are lost in the palatial mansions where even the sound of a bell can get drowned in the noise of the vaccuum cleaner, leaving a member alone, depressed and vulnerable.

Here we know about Kings and Queens, Princes and Princesses, Dukes and Duchess who lead a public life true to their titles, make front page news, are a symbol of respect and act in accordance with the laws in order to bring glory to their lineage and to their country . The life of a royal is not easy at all and that of the reigning monarch is the most difficult of them all.

Many a time the Queen would wish to express but cannot. The daughterly, sisterly, wifely and maternal instincts are suppressed under the weight of what is expected of the Queen. Yes ! The queen smiles with the head held high, the face upright, never puckered and hardly ever laughs heartily. How difficult must that be ?

Royal rules are exceedingly demanding and require the royales to be able to adhere to the discipline at all times. Being able to present themselves at their best at all times, while following strict rules in their daily activities is something a commoner like me would perhaps say in a rather relieved manner...." Oh ! My ! Am I not glad that I am a commoner who can live a life on my own terms ? "

When a virus went viral......

2020-03-20T20:10:00.000-07:00

WHO alerted the world and declared COVID as Pandemic
and people worldwide are in a state of panic.
In a bid to get back home, the traveller cut short his stay.
As governments issued restrictions, the family man is worried about his pay.
The questions are many and the concerns are real.
Coz routines are disrupted and offices are sealed.
How long will it be for normalcy restoration ?
Can working from home for a driver ever be a solution ?
When was it last that borders closed almost simultaneously ?
When was it last that religious places closed down indefinitely ?
When was it last that people world wide practiced social distancing ?
When was it last that people came out on balconies and started singing ?
When was it last that governments ordered a complete lock down ?
All this and more are troubling the worried common man.
Who knows what Mother Nature has in plan ?
The COVID 19 has sparked fears world wide
as reports keep coming in about people who have died
are mostly the elderly and those with their health compromised.
The COVID 19 has been declared as a pandemic
So stay alert, prepare but never ever panic.
Corona viruses have been around for decades.
If you catch a cold or a cough please don't get afraid .
A common cold will subside on its own.
Remember the advice..." With or without medicine, in a week, the cold is gone. "
The threat is real but staying calm is important.
In the absence of hygeine, any disease is imminent.
The difference between COVID 19 and the previous viruses
is that the world wide web is adding to the anxiety issues.
Stay informed and forward the positive news.
Be responsible, avoid gatherings and the long queues.
Boost up your immunity, stay hydrated, pop in the fruits, veggies and avoid the handshakes.
Eat healthy, sleep well and don't stock up on daily necessities.
Wear the mask only if you are ill or a caregiver
and most importantly keep the selfless doctor army in your daily prayer.

Man forgets. She warns......

2020-03-20T19:51:00.003-07:00

The water level was rising inside the commode and that is when I began to panic. Till then I was very calm. It was the first of December 2015 and I was really scared. Fear mongering had begun a few weeks ahead and Chennaites were fearing the worst. The common thought that plagued everyone was that if the waters from Chembarambakkam were to be released, entire city of Chennai would submerge.

Inspite of the whatsapp forwards, the rumours and the fake news, I kept my cool humming a favourite song .....Que sera sera whatever will be......thinking aloud that there was no point in worrying and I went about my daily routine normally. That is the trick in keeping cool. Stay active and do what you love so that you forget to worry. As simple as that.

The water started entering the apartment complex. I was prepared though. I was ready to shift to my parents house in the event of water entering the house. Keeping important documents and certificates, cheque books and cash, I was wondering whether I should wait or vacate the home immediately. We live in the ground floor and luckily the water stopped rising when it nearly reached the doorstep. We were quarantined for a week after which the water started receding.

The deluge happened on 1st Dec 2015 and brought mayhem to the entire city leaving people stranded in their homes. That was the first time that Chennaites went into a forced quarantine. The first drill happened in 2015 much long before people worldwide started talking of self isolation for containing a virus. The entire city went on a lock down. All shops including medicine stores were forced to shut down.

Infact the second half of 2015 was a terribly wet year in Tamilnadu and Chennai in particular. We experienced storm bursts and continuous showers from September onwards which finally culminated in the great deluge. The deluge was primarily due to opening up of the reservoirs that were filled to capacity. As the Chembarambakkam reservoir was opened and the government swiftly swung into action and inspite of issuing timely advisory, the first question on everyone's mind was....

" Why the delay in releasing the water ? Why couldn't the government anticipate the rising levels in the storage and start releasing in phases from November itself ? "

As I look back, as a citizen, I now realise that there must have been effective preparedness on the part of the government from September. For the citizens, the seriousness of the situation struck only at the time of the massive disaster which luckily was anticipated and the government was taking periodical stock of the situation from a few months ahead itself. I take immense pride in the state government headed by Amma which handled the deluge situation extremely well and four years later Chennai, my home, inspite of it's water woes and mosquito menace is doing well.

The annual rainfall in chennai is very errartic, unpredictable and we depend on the north east monsoon for the city's supply of water. A deluge, this huge was unimaginable in the drought city even in the wildest of dreams. Citizens didn't expect it and were unprepared. The government however was not and we citizens are grateful for that. This should serve as a lesson for us in these trying times today. Stay prepared, take necessary precautions but never panic. Thanks to the actions being taken by our governments, this crisis too shall pass.

The unprecedented rains of 2015 turned out to be a once in a 100 year catastrophe. Here we are looking at once in a 100 year pandemic. Looking back at 2015, I see visuals of people being rescued in helicopters from roof tops and in boats from low lying areas. The army was called in and the civilian army was wading in hip and shoulder deep waters helping to rescue people and also distributing aid. As always the healthcare warriors were at the forefront displaying amazing courage in setting up camps in the most affected areas. As a mother of doctors, today in 2020, as I see and read about the selfless thousands of warrior healers attending to their patients worldwide, forgetting home and sleep, my heart swells in pride. May their tribe increase and may they be blessed with a long and healthy life.

I was marooned in an island, the apartment complex surrounded by water on all sides. We had no power for a week. Some areas had power outage for 10 to 15 days and some ever more than a month. There was no internet. The only source of communication was the landline and friends and well wishers called to update us about the situation around us. The weeks of darkness that engulfed the entire city of Chennai claimed lives but overall the government did exceptionally well in their rescue work of saving many lives.

When the sun finally started coming out from behind the dark clouds and the waters started receding, the streets lay strewn with expensive household items. The fury of Mother Nature was clearly visible and man was rendered powerless. Time and again, she warns but we do not heed to her warnings thereby bringing upon misery upon ourselves. The situation was extremely terrifying and as we worried about an imminent epidemic, the government swung into swift action yet again and ensured that there was no outbreak of any disease in Chennai or any part of Tamilnadu. For those who complain of the lack of cleanliness, let me tell you one thing. We appreciate the neighbour for their efficient efforts but fail to see our own government's enterprise and endeavours, considering the fact that we are a country where religious congregation be it in temples, churches, mosques or festivals is normal and part of our year long public activities.

The work of garbage disposal was undertaken on a war footing and cleared in record time. For those who remember, water had reached the second and third storeys in many areas. Adayar river overflowed the banks and encroachments and huts were washed ashore. There was widespread destruction. There were losses to property and nature proved to be the leveller. The poor and the homeless who survived had nothing to lose. Many of the rich and wealthy had to repair or rebuild their homes.

Facing a crisis again today, I think about the widespread fear created by an invisible virus and Mother Nature comes to my mind. Global culture, customs and traditions highlight the importance of nature and her resources. Irrespective of religion, people worship nature and yet also defy her. Why ?

There must be a dictum which we as humans fail to see and hence we keep offending her. It's not only about being in sync with nature, conserving and protecting her but something more that we seem to be missing. As I was pondering on a grave mistake that we could be doing repeatedly, I came across a post about the wet markets in Wuhan where there is big business in wild animals which are sold for human consumption.

As I read it out to my mother, seated next to me, I nearly threw up and she remarked casually. Do you know why it's named as the Corona Virus ? I stared at her face, with a blank look when she quipped rather confidently.....

It's named as the Corona Virus because Man has become Carnivorous......

&

I was like 😱🤐

A devotee's prayer !

2019-07-28T05:15:00.001-07:00

Is it the fault of the multitudes who crowd ? Is it only the fault of the administration which is unable to manage the crowds at Kanchipuram ? As per reports, the administration did not expect lakhs to enter and hence were clearly unprepared.

I think it's the media to blame. It's the hype created around the Lord, so much that people are just curious. How many are true and ardent devotees ? And where is the divine ambience in the midst of pelmel, chaos, helplessness and giddiness...I wonder....

Well ! The temple town is small and it's but obvious that even a few thousands of vehicles can choke the tiny lanes leading to the temple. Forget how people manage to get into the queues in the first place. God save them. I just can't even imagine how they manage to get past the highway and the lanes to reach the temple. The sheer number of vehicles on Kanchipuram highway is staggering....Just unimaginable....

As per news reports vehicles could not enter the temple town on the 18th day and the 28th day. Those that entered could not make their out of Kanchipuram easily. Imagine the chaos and the helplessness of the people who panicked, gasped for air but also waited for hours to get a glimpse of the Lord who as per practice, rises only once in 40 years.

As an ignorant woman, who knows nothing about the puranas but can't bear to hear and read stories of people suffering, who knows that God is omnipresent and yet as an ordinary mortal, as a believer in the Almighty, my only question is......

"Why should Sri Athi Varadhar go back under water after 48 days ? What can't the idol be installed permanently on land, so that the devotees can have a hasslefree and a peaceful darshan, whenever they want to. What is the point of standing long hours in queues, under the sun, dehydrated, exhausted but feeling great after having a glimpse of the Lord....

Is it only to announce to the world ?.....Hey....I got a darshan of the special Lord. As for those who returned without even standing in the queue, they can only thank their stars that better sense prevailed atleast then and they decided to come back without the darshan.

&

As I hear sad stories, bad experiences, many of those, including myself, who returned without darshan had Special VIP Passes. Just saying because duplicating passes, I realised yesterday, got easier with technology. As people waved the passes in desperation, the cops blocked the VIP entry, and a long serpentine queue in loops formed outside the temple....

Times change and even the Gods do adapt. Aren't we already experiencing this via social media ?

As per tradition a deity should be worshipped daily. As per belief an idol is not just stone or wood. When we worship an idol, we worship the almighty who is omnipresent.

If Athi Varadhar has risen for the good of mankind and welfare of the universe, isn't it our duty, as ordinary mortals to give him a sacred abode on land from where he can give darshan and his devotees also feel safe ?

Why should devotees get a chance to meet their idol only once in 40 years ? I don't understand.

It's the 21st century and his pictures have gone viral. Sri Athi Varadhar is famous and immensely happy about it. Go, check the smile in the pics and you will be surprised. The smile keeps changing. The attention seeking God is none other than the Srinivasa Perumal himself. Now why would anyone want a happy Perumal to go back under water ? I am sure he doesn't want to go.

Deep under water, he sleeps for 40 years...So they say. Who are they ? Why do they say ? I don't know. Pardon my ignorance..

My relationship with Srinivasa dates to the day I was born and I know he loves sakkarai pongal, vadai and ladoos...Can you imagine, how sad he must be under water for 40 years ?

I say....Our Lord Sriman Narayana is deprived of food and daily worship for 40 years. This amounts to gross injustice and negligence.

Can't there be two Varadaraja perumal temples in the same place ?

Forty years ago, there was no media, no frenzy, no hype and Sri Athi Varadhar had very few devotees. So probably, he decided to stay on land for 48 days, got bored of being ignored and then went back under water.

Today in 2019, Sri AthiVaradhar has a large fan following and can't even think of going back. So, necessarily, in the interest of devotees, taking into account several factors including daily worship, offering of neivedhyam and safety of devotees, Sri AthiVaradhar will have to stay back on land in order to answer the prayers and fulfil the wish of granting "pass and queue free," free darshan whenever they want to....

#sriathivaradhar
#dontgoback

Such a wateraholic !

2019-07-25T00:08:00.003-07:00

How do you experience joy ? Don't you find happiness in small things. While I write, I will tell you what makes her happy and joyful .

Variluxed for good reason, she takes joys in simple things. The daily newspaper is a joy to read, when the vision is clear and when the spectacles are brand new, neatly arranged newspapers, preserved with a reason are a joy to behold.

Well ! The scarcity of water gives her ideas and newspapers come in very handy......You know....To sponge in the water or even to wipe. Very often she throws in the sheet of newspaper on the spills. She has finally mastered the act of total surrender. An act, she now owes to the papyrus......The total surrender to the efficacies of the newsprint and the paper lead to new revelations such as.....

So long as water continues to be scarce, there will be hard copies in the digital world. A hard fact to swallow in soft times.....

She is a tidy freak. An obsessed one...Sometimes or rather mostly. Simple things or sights give her great happiness. Sights of droplets of water on the leaves. That is enough as a motivating trigger...A morale boost which takes her to the uppermost level of satisfaction." H20," As she says often is magic..

Water is scarce, she says. Drops of water that trickle scare but raindrops give her immense joy. A fully filled bucket of water makes her sing with ecstasy. Sparkling clean stainless steel vessels make her so light hearted that she simply feels elated for hours for no reason. The rapture lingers on until the taps run dry and hurriedly she switches on the motor. Thanks to the rain water harvesting systems, the ground still has water and her mood is soon upbeat...

She trades her happiness for bigger joys as well, coz there is a need to celebrate when thoughts of simple joys seem overwhelming. Her joys are too simple, too many and water oriented. If a bucket of water is a simple joy, a bigger joy is a long drive along the coast, where she can see the large expanse of water. Nothing else gives her much thrill as much as she derives from seeing and feeling the miracle that is water.

Another bigger joy is simply sitting on the beach mesmerised by the waves that remind her of the pile of laundry. The big ocean that seems to toss and turn at the waves comes to her mind as she puts the clothes into the washing machine. She is delighted when there is running water and prays for more water and more rain. The clothes get a dettol toss and a spin dry. Life is meaningful and she is an enlightened being much like Sri Ramakrishna or Sri Chaitanya.

The joy flows in her nerves and in her arteries. She prays to nature that transpires to bring her closer to water whenever she think of it and she feels blessed. As she experiences a surge in good energy and when the sky is overcast, the sun hides under the clouds she checks the TN weatherman's page and all is well...Is she assured ? Not as yet...You bet..

A spotless kitchen is her ultimate idea of emancipation. Her spirits soar on filling the glass bottles with pure RO water and drops down low on seeing the wastage from the outlet of the water filter.

In the event of mess or spills which is rather common in homes where too many cooks lend their hands to enhance the flavour of the favourite foods, she stays composed because she knows that where there is water there is a way...

" Where's the water ? " she shrieks in despair as she pull out the disposable kitchen wipes. Water doesn't solve all problems, she realises..It's good to practice alternative methods and dry cleaning also....Aah...The thoughts that can conjure up in the mind of a water obsessed woman... You never know...

Nevertheless...She moves on. Too many cooks but a lone sole cleaner...She cribs to no avail..

"There is an alternative to everything," advices an inner voice, as if to reassure her and quickly she gathers her sanity. Staying calm and cheerful is the key, she realises as she looks at the 90 year old father in law who oblivious of all that is happening around remains in a state of meditation until it's meal or sleep time.

Ah ! This is bliss...Indeed ! Wait till I get to get to that stage.....She mumbles and with thoughts racing, she starts dreaming of the grand Sri Athivaradar inside a temple.

The year 2059 and a temple is built for the Lord. The rivers, lakes and ponds are brimming with water and Bharatavarsha is prosperous. Immersed in thoughts of the divine, drenched in euphorivc emotions, she fills the flask with hot water.

"Give me water Ma" pleaded the thirsty daughter, who was just back home after a long day at work. The daydream interrupted, she handed over the water bottle to her daughter....

" Till 2059, when I will be 90 years young, I will search for solace in some organised chaos " murmuring, in a bid to recover bits and pieces of herself she tends to leave, wherever she sees a spill, a drop, dust or mess, she jumps in joy because she knows that a dreary routine is a blessing, to wipe and mop meant staying physically fit and more importantly there is rain and there will be water....

She is contented and at peace....

Badam Gully Girl !

2019-06-21T01:43:00.000-07:00

When I was a kid, I spent summer vacations in Secunderabad, where my maternal grandparents lived. They lived in a quaint bungalow in Marredpally, Secunderabad. My grandparents lived on the first floor. My grandmother's younger sister and family lived on the ground floor. During the summer months uncles, aunts and their families got together at 208 Marredpally.

There was an old abandoned garage to the right as you entered, a pomegranate tree and a guava tree to the left. The address, 208 Marredpally was a warm home, bustling with activity and echoing with the noise of boisterous children. We were 8 on the top floor plus 4 on the ground floor....

We formed a cousin club. Marredpally was a quiet residential area with lots of greenery and open spaces.We played on the streets and bylanes during the day and slept on the open terrace in the night. We played gully cricket, gilli danda, seven stones, hide and seek, played on the slide, the swing and the seesaw in the park nearby. We had to be literally dragged into the home during meal times and bedtime.

The cousin membership did not grow past twelve. The youngest missed all the fun. We played throw and catch with him as we would do with a ball. We had rubber balls, cricket balls, big throw balls, small ping pong balls and Aditya the roly poly ball.

All of us were well behaved, as we liked to call ourselves and were called in the neighbourhood. My brother and myself attended school in Kolkata. The others went to schools in Secunderabad and Hyderabad.

For the entry to the cousin club, a password was mandatory. By a password, I mean a code word, which would be changed every day. Time has wiped them from my memory but it could have been anything such as Badam Gully, Lingam Pally, Chinna Anna who was my mother's youngest mama, Periya Anna who was my mother's eldest mama, Merchal Appa my mother's grandfather or Gnanambal who as you all know was my grandmother or Kaduganoor which was my mother's maternal home town.....

We made the daily entry into the cousin club, a fun ritual. Each day, one of us would decide on the code word. A chit system was followed and the one who picked up the chit reading "You are the Code word generator " had the privilige to decide on a common familiar word. Based on clues, the others had to guess the word.

We were together all the time, we ate and slept together, we played, fought, we hugged, we laughed, we cried and every morning, while stepping out of the house we had to mutter the password in order to qualify to participate in the day's activities..

Say for example, Ruby Stones Parvatham or Niagara Viswanathan it could be.....If you said it right, you could enter. Parvatham chitti and Viswanathan chittappa lived on the ground floor. They were USA returned and the entire family looked upto them in awe. The password could be Brownie the German Shepherd or Snowy the Pomeranian. Then there were those days, when we used to rack our heads, especially my brother and myself when the word would be Charminar, Koti, Mirch Bajji, Bhaingan ka saalan, Sultan bazaar or Begum bazaar.

Now ! fast forward by many decades and I find, lacking in our lives "A Cousin Club," but dominated and ruled by passwords. Those were the days when we could survive without the password. I would cry, bring the house down, make a fuss and scream " I do not know." A sweet caring elder brother would let me in.
That is no longer possible. In case I do not know my password for access to any site, I have to manoeuvre my way on my own, verify my genuineness through a link in the mail and create a new one.

Our daily existence today, depends on passwords. Today, we cannot live without the password that connects us to devices, which in turn connects us to the world. The devices, the phones, the pads, the pods, the laptops, all the digital, electronic gadgets we live with, without a connect to the real....Yet, it is a necessity, a need of the hour...something we cannot do without...

Passwords and their dangerous cousins, the PIN numbers which can fall easy prey to hackers, have the potential to make us all crazy, so much that for instance, in a situation when money may be withdrawn from the account without the account holder making any transaction, the individual has to rush to the bank, file an FIR, lodge a complaint in the bank, deactivate the internet banking account and cancel the cards...So much for technology advancement...Thank God for the SMS alerts ....

Without the password, there is no internet, there is no email, no Facebook no IRCTC,no Amazon, no Snapdeal, no Flipkart, no PepperFry, no Make My Trip, No Urban ladder. Without PIN numbers, we are rendered swipeless. My relationship to my passwords is getting stronger day by day. The number of passwords in my custody has been rising steadily. Lest with advancing age, I forget, I have written them down.

It is always better to be safe than sorry. I would recommend usage of strong passwords with alphabets, upper cases, lower cases, characters and numbers. which involves complicated numerical codes say for example.....1942 a LoVe_QuiT stOry or 1857=sEpOyJhAn_sI. But these are vulnerable, much within the grasp of any hacker. Frankly I don't know why anybody would want to know about the passwords I would like to use or prescribe..Anyway all in good intent...

I don't deny my dependence on the gadgets and devices. They give me the comfort that I need, so that I can relax. It is clearly evident that relaxation gives me the space to blog and I am enlightened in ways too many to be able to narrate the benefits in one go .

It is the era of the gateway and adding to the shopping carts, the secret numbers, the PINs, the OTPs, though sometimes I realise that they can also be the reason for me to get flustered.

So on the 21st of June, Two thousand and nineteen, I have decided to evolve into a strong username and a password, unique to my roots, across all the sites where I have an account. Henceforth, I am my username. I am my password....Gives me a great sense of relief. So while on the one hand, I will never forget my passwords, on the other hand I will be reliving my childhood days...Sounds fun, Doesn't it ? :-)

Here's an example :-)

Username : Badamgullimaykhili
Password : kadDUganOor#chOks_65

Of a broken thumb, a yawn, a troll and a dimension.....

2019-06-20T00:33:00.003-07:00

Oh ! how our own armchair perspectives, keep changing, within our comfort zone, with a bag of chips and without a bat or a ball in hand. As in life, the result of a match is neither fair nor unfair. I was just thinking about how I would feel while fielding on the boundary with more than a thousand phone cameras focussed at me. Immediately I started feeling very uncomfortable and so i have decided to defend a sportsman who is also a fellow human...

The game is all about swinging fortunes and opportunities that come one's way. The game is not over till the last wicket is down or the winning run is taken or the DL method is enforced.

Rains are predictable whereas performances are not. The ICC chose to hold the tournament in venues, knowing the weather conditions. This decision of the ICC alone can be questioned.

I can only pray that the rain clouds move with great speed to faraway Chennai...

What seemed perfect till a few days back, at the beginning of the tournament, has no relevance at all today. One can choose to write his own destiny and create his own path by working hard and progressing on the desired path. But the same destiny may have other plans for him and compel him to take a detour. So, with 3d or no 3d glasses, Ambati will only sit back and watch while Rishabh will get a chance to strike. Shikhar's broken thumb will heal but not before the cup is lifted. All the three players are gifted in their own special ways and blessed to be a part of the WC 2019 Indian squad.

Trolled and humiliated, cricketers who are heroes only until a defeat are criticised for their decisions. If a toss could win and a match won without a single ball being bowled, Sarfaraz would be hailed and not trolled for yawning. To stand strong and grounded when own countrymen criticise is tough but only gentlemen can. Sarfaraz is one such gentleman. Sportsmen have families too and have a right to their private lives, which unfortunately is trespassed beyond all lines of decency. There should be no personal attacks in good sports.

Truth be accepted. As being into the semifinals doesn't ensure a slot in the finals, so also doesn't make the final winner as the best team in the world. The celebration lasts for a few days and the winning team can only thank their good times.

Coz,

" I want to lose " wished no team ever...

A World Cup tournament is not only about how well the winning teams played as a team or how lucky they were to win. It's also about the sportsmanship displayed on the field. Losers who smile in defeat, who embrace their opponents and wholeheartedly congratulate them are human and winners too.....The top 12 of their respective countries....

In the end, it's about the love for the game, the body language and the camaraderie of the players of both teams amongst themselves, in victory or in defeat, that touches the hearts of millions of viewers and stays on in their minds. As far as spectators on the ground are concerned, they should be able to enjoy the game wholeheartedly, getting the full value of their ticket's worth, without excessive display of patriotism.....

#WCC2019

When a murder inspires........

2019-05-03T19:37:00.000-07:00

Director Bharath Neelakandan's debut flick #K13 is a mystery thriller of a new genre.

Madhiazhagan played by Arulnidhi and Malarvizhi played by Shraddha Shrinath meet at a pub and hit off immediately. It happens in films...You see...After all the director has to convey so much just in a little over two hours...So we don't analyse and reason logically...

A fully drunk Madhi accompanies Malar to her home and the story takes a mysterious turn within the four walls of the 20th floor apartment.

Madhi is a struggling assistant director with scripts in his head and bits of papers stuck on the walls of his home. He visualises his scripts and dreams of becoming a director. Dreams take years to realise and Madhi struggles for 10 years in the industry without much progress. A worried mother serves an ultimatum to Madhi and a director friend serves a notice period of two days, urging Mathi to come up with a script soon or perish. A depressed Mathi approaches a psychiatric counsellor for help.

Malarvizhi is a writer who has thoughts in her head but has published only one book, without recognition, with the unsold copies neatly stacked in a drawer in her living room.

As all writers go through block phases, so does Malar. A relationship with a dear friend gone sour, allegedly over a misunderstanding, arising out of the real life story as depicted in her book, Malar who is already seperated from her parents, becomes a loner, cannot write anymore and in the process also suffers from depression.

K13 is a slow one room thriller, depicting clash of an individual with his creative instincts and how attempts without success can manifest into depression. The film manages to hold the attention of the viewers with some powerful performances by both Arulnidhi and Shraddha, a clever screenplay that takes the story back and forth, so that an element of surprise and guessing is maintained throughout until the climax....

I will give the movie a 3&1/2 on 5. Go watch it and if the climax seems to confound, let me know....I will write about how a murder can inspire.....

WHEN NARCISSISM SHOWED THE WAY TO ALTRUISM !

2018-05-29T00:06:00.002-07:00

When my FB timeline is flooded with vacation pictures and videos of the breathtaking hills and dales, valleys and highlands, lakes and waterfalls, icy alps and the tulip gardens, waterfalls and the urban squares,deep gorges and canyons, cuisine from different parts of the world, I look at them, one by one and I pause...

My friends are on a holiday and I utter the golden words...

" Lokam Samsthaha Sukhino Bhavanthu."

Now, I rarely hit the like nor do i comment. Hurriedly, I log out....

Well ! Time is precious.....

I enjoy beauty, either real or in pictures and cherish nature that is so overwhelming. I admire nature and I thank the internet which takes me on virtual yet real locales. But there is nothing like being alive in the midst of nature as Julia Andrews would sing....The hills are alive with the sound of music and a Salzburg getaway is indeed an experience of a lifetime... I am happy for my friends and loved ones..I am at peace....

Why am I saying all this ?

When I was new to FB, I was very excited as each one here who got together on this wall only to reconnect. It was a dream come true and childhood was revisited. School friends got in touch and were genuinely happy for one another. In the beginning, everyone started sharing info about themselves, albeit in excitement as one does when one meets a dear friend after many years. Rip Van Winklys had awakened from deep slumber and unmindful of the intervening years of separation, were united again. Friendship mattered and nothing else...

The intervening gap was not a decade or even two. Friends were meeting after three decades. A major part of their life span having been devoted to family, work and raising children, the 60s and 70s born emerged on this wall as mature individuals with á rich repertoire of experience. Having gone through highs and lows of life, here they were at a stage to announce their accomplishments and social media readily provided them with the platform. All of a sudden, life was so interesting. It was a story of commoners in the midst of celebrities getting a taste of sudden fame. Well ! Total credit to FB for making all this happen. In the eagerness to know one another, posts and comments were liked, narcissism reared its ugly head and dopamine had its desired effect.

As they say, a new broom sweeps clean and this just applied to FB as well. Orkut had its limitations when FB was preferred but slowly boredom started creeping into this wall as well, Personal lives of ordinary people and achievements were no longer interesting, the reason being that jealousy had reared its ugly head too. The likes and praises kept coming but became insincere. The love, wow, and sad emojis seemed more relevant when people started using them judiciously, as if trying to show that the reaction is indeed genuine, certainly influenced by and wary of the online world where wishes and comments were increasingly seen as fake and not truly heartfelt. " Like " no longer meant the word in the dictionary....

All these observations and more based on personal interactions where friends gossipped about one another offline and praised them online were bitter experiences. I am sure all would have encountered such experiences at some point. That was when friends decided to part ways and restricted themselves to groups on Whatsapp which alas ! was no better. The damage was done and sub tiny groups were formed. Good friends who vibed well, sharing the same wavelength, respecting one another, without judging each other, accepting one another as they were, stuck together. They picked up conversations from where they left whenever they met. But it was no longer on a daily basis. Social media created the much needed rifts in strained friendships and helped in identifying the truest of true friends, which was ultimately good in a way.

There still exist best of friends who are genuinely happy for one another and many who continue to share the pictures and happiness online. But, " like " holds no meaning at all and so now, I rarely like posts and pictures. Due to constraints of time, when I don't go through the post, I will not hit a like as many would do. I stopped loving and wowing when it seemed flattery to others. Friends told me that I was trying to flatter. Though I had no reasons to flatter. Who knows me better than me ? But I am glad they told me. They did me a favour. I was forced to change myself. I am still good. I never pretend, I wish well and praise sincerely. I just don't record on the wall anymore. Hypocrites hit the " like " and " showoff " ......I was told.....Sad, but I had no option but to agree. Hurt and disappointed, I had learnt a lesson....

There are options for unfollowing and turning off notifications on FB. Now, I prefer to do that and though I have only real friends on my list, I have selectively opted to follow only a very few. I wish well for all. Not all are fake I tried to explain.

FB has options in the settings that allow you to change setting options everytime you post. So you could post to a small group of acquaintances, friends or public. So adjust your settings each time you post. Well ! Nobody sees the hard life and the challenges everyone faces offline, on a daily basis. They see only the merrymaking pictures online, jealous and complain about the difficult life they lead. These are the negative traits that social media has created in good minds as well. You cant blame the individuals. Its the bane of the era we live in where fake posts are believed and the real perceived as trying to show off . The world is made of different kinds of people, fighting different battles. Empathy is the only way to deal with such negativity. I have learnt that being genuine can be perceived as being narcissist and so I now try to portray myself as altruistic, while, in reality I have always been one.....

What a paradox !

I make it a point to go through all the original and thought provoking posts and pictures posted my creative friends whom i have chosen to follow, including some very touching posts by young hard working doctors who are my friends. I thank FB for that. I wish to comment, love, like, wow or feel sad but i restrain myself from doing so....Now you know why.....

A TALE OF PEAS OF DIFFERENT PODS AND THE GOLDEN CARROTS !

2018-05-28T00:10:00.002-07:00

Have you ever noticed that while being engaged in a close conversation or observing a game, a slightly bent, engrossed SriniMama, entwines his fingers and keeps his hands clasped behind on his lower back, whereas an upright MSD, all eyes on perfecting the skills of his teammates, folds his arms close to his chest.

I have noticed some traits in MSD & SriniMama which stand out, including some common facial mannerisms of showing concern, yet staying calm under pressure being the most obvious one, as we all know. Apart from these observations, I also think that those born under the Cancer and Capricorn sun signs get along like peas and carrots.

July born MSD's sunsign is Cancer and January born SriniMama is ruled by Capricorn. I am sure Gajar Ka Halwa and Matar Kachori must be a favourite of both. Can anybody close to either of the two confirm this, so that, I can start writing a book on celebrities, their sun signs and famous relationships based on first hand authentic info. I promise to give due credits wherever necessary and a share of royalty when earned .

I could title this particular article on MSD & SriniMama as " Why SriniMama loves the Thenga Manga Carrot Pattani Sundal " or " Why the world is crazy over Mahi's time tested and the most popular recipe of the " Peas Carrot Paratha "

Do any of you know whether SriniMama consulted an astrologer to help him in choosing his lucky mascot ? Sorry to sound inquisitive....But I have so many related queries in my mind right now..

This reminds me of an anecdote about the mischievous side of MSD. Once, while staying at the Kharaghpur railway quarters, when he was working as a Ticket Examiner, Dhoni and his friends covered themselves in white bedsheets and walked around the railway quarters complex masquerading as ghosts, scaring the night guards on duty only to ensure that there was not a single sleeping night watchman anywhere in the vicinity. Dhoni is an all rounder. I know that he has bowled and kept wickets in the same match. Does he hold any record coming in to bat up in the order as a night watchman ? Do let me know .

Mahi's climb has been phenomenal. His life story is inspirational. It is the story of the lad next door who became a celebrity out of his sheer will and determination. Somewhere in his journey, the lad next door outgrew the Ranchi neighbourhood, carved a niche for himself internationally before becoming Chennai's Super King. So is SriniMama...The King of an empire .

Small things measure for success. India Cements was founded in the year 1946. What's in a name they say. " Everything " I would say. Probably that explains why the company was named as "India Cements". We, Indians believe in nurturing and treasuring good relationships. Once a good relationship is formed, it is "Cemented" for life.......

A MAMA REMEMBERS !

2018-05-16T03:12:00.000-07:00

Instead of trying to figure out why climates are changing much to my irritation, why Chennai is not experiencing unseasonal stormy showers, why the summer here is scorching hot, why traffic diversions is the order of the day, I will try to get a smile makeover done right now. Kinda like a joker who hides his sad emotions behind the painted happy face.

Jokes apart, that was indeed a joke. Notwithstanding the inconveniences, it is true that I do not like to complain and my motto is to stay happy come what may..

On that note, here’s my happy post for the day. Let me get drenched in memory showers atleast.

The life of a happy go lucky non medico married to a medico is not easy at all. Being the mother of two doctors is harder and as the three converse in medico lingo all mumbo jumbo to me, I try hard not to feel left out and instead I look at them with awe and admiration. In the course of any conversation the little that I can gather is usually about an admission, case sheets, procedures, diagnosis and discharges. These words appear in the English dictionary and perhaps that is why I am familiar with the terms. I am happier blogging, drawing and cooking. Well ! My Docs can make their own tea. Phew ! that's some relief for a multitasking non medico mom who knows more about how to go about getting into MBBS and a PG residency much more than they do...

When my younger girl, now a budding paediatric resident, was in Std I, she used to have great difficulty with spellings. That was an exercise I use to give her everyday till she mastered it. She almost gave up one day and said…Ma…This is too difficult. Not my cup of tea at all. Allow me to be detained in Ist Std. I promise you that I will get over this problem when I repeat another year in Std I. My little girl was quick to grasp and had a way with words. "Must be in the genes," I mused. I couldn't but feel proud, though I was absolutely flabberghasted as well. That was a five year old telling me about her inability to progress and also giving a solution. I still remember that day sometime in 1995. I was too stunned to react. My little girl was more mature than me....I thought....

2018-03-07T02:17:00.000-08:00

Aspiring to be a writer,

she framed rules tighter.

She went incognito

for the thoughts to flow.

Solitude gave her the freedom.

A muse was nowhere to be found

The world was unable to follow her.

She had reasons to take cover,

within the secure confines

of spaces that accomodated

none other and within

her was the zeal to express

without the need to impress .

Dwelling in thoughts in a silent mode,

she tapped lightly on a keyboard.

with her fingers, now mightier

and a free heart lighter.........

THE WRITER'S OATH !

2016-09-22T00:08:00.000-07:00

.........When the block bug threatens to bite.......

I will look out of the window for ideas to write..

I will listen to the sound of the swaying of leaves

and the peals of laughter below the trees .

I will wonder why the sky is crystal clear

when the met has predicted stormy weather.

...I will thence raise pertinent questions to clear my doubt......

.....I will interact , involve others , debate and laugh aloud.....

I will read a page, stay vigilant and be well informed .

I will walk a mile,take a cue and write what I observed.

I know that brilliant ideas can pop up any moment.

Prudently,I'll make the best use of the present .

Using my intellect and without inputs from the net,

I'll be inspired to write on topics of my interest.

I will certainly not succumb to any senseless rumour.

Instead, I will hold on tight to my sense of humour.

I will scroll paper pages and enrich my knowledge.

I'll browse the net selectively and take the pledge.

“ I the writer,hereby responsibly do affirm ,

to the best of my abilities,I do confirm,

that the use of the pencil, pen and ink,

having been dispensed with forever,

in MS Word, I may type,
using fonts which I like.

Formatting and styling apart,

I may also use Word Art.

I may insert drawings, which are exclusively mine

where a need to acknowledge sources,will never arise.

Having said this,with tech to aid

and an open real window,
I will write in verse or prose

and express my thoughts

in a style unique to me ,

without any meter,data or wifi.

YASHODA KAY LAL.........GOKUL ! GOPAL !

2016-08-26T23:05:00.004-07:00

Yashoda stared in disbelief."You will not do that, I hope you can understand, my little boy." she chided Gokul rather firmly.The little prankster was a hyperactive kid and kept Yashoda on her toes all day long.

I am not going to tolerate all this any more, saying she rushed to drag him into the room and to her utter dismay, before she could reach him, the lad hurriedly grabbed the pair of shoes lying nearby and flung it outside, from the third floor balcony.

Yashoda and Nandakumar with their two children lived in a double bedroom flat on the third floor of the Bank Officers flats in Chennai.

As Gopal grinned mischievously, a seemingly innocent Gokul emerged out of the balcony. Yashoda was in tears and her little boys were jumping with glee..

"This is just one of the pranks that my boys are upto anytime of the day," remarked Yashoda. "I keep a close watch and I am always alert," she said. "They are blessed with a mechanical bent of mind, remarked the mother " and so I have placed most of my household appliances out of their reach," she added.

This is an excerpt of a conversation, when Kirti had met Yashoda a few years ago.

"It is very difficult and yet pleasures of motherhood ,Aaaha ! " she had exclaimed. " I love them. I get wild sometimes. I lose my temper but when I see them sleep, I forget that the brats turn each day into a nightmare and then I repent for my deeds. Their innocent faces melts my heart. Oh my dear Kirti. My ladoos are heaven's blessings and I cannot thank the almighty enough" she told Kirti who was all ears....

"Oh ! please ! Tell me more of their antics"...Kirti insisted....

Kirti and Yashoda had studied in school together and had parted ways after college. The first among the two to get married, Kirti had moved to Switzerland with her husband. In the meantime Yashoda had joined a nationalised bank as a Probationary officer. The two friends kept in touch and long before social media was to unite long lost friends, these two chums were always a phone call away from one another.

When Yashoda's marriage was fixed to Nandakumar, Kirti flew all the way from Switzerland to be with her best friend on her special day. Theirs was a love marriage. Nandakumar was a bank officer too and when he proposed to her, Yashoda could not refuse.

Post the wedding Kirti returned to Switzerland and got busy with her academics. She was pursuing her Phd in Molecular Biology. Her husband Vrishabanu Kumar a MD in Community Medicine worked at the WHO headquarters in Geneva.

When her twin boys were ten years old, Yashoda and her husband Nanda Kumar, were posted on an overseas assignment. Kirti and Yashoda continued to be in touch and wished one another on all occasions. They would exchange information about the activities of their kids and Yashoda would always say ,"Oh ! Thankfully my boys seem to be mellowing down with age" How are your pretty girls ? Kirti.."You are blessed," saying Yashoda would burst out laughing.

Kirti and Nandakumar were indeed blessed with twin daughters Rukmini and Sathyabhama...

The best friends had so much in common and life had blessed them with twins. Boys for Yashoda and girls for Kirti....Not a single day passed without one thinking of the other and how much they were grateful for everything in life...

Though the deputation to USA was initially for a period of one year, the husband wife duo of Yashoda and Nandakumar went on to serve an extended deputation period of more than fifteen years in several branches of the bank across different countries.

With both Kirti and Yashoda busy in their respective family commitments and careers, personal chats started taking a backseat and slowly they lost touch with one another. Vrishabanu was on a high profile assignment and his job entailed frequent postings across the globe. Before she moved to HongKong, Yashoda had tried to contact Kirti but by then she had left Geneva.

After a gap of twenty years, they chanced to bump into one another by sheer coincidence at a wedding function in Chennai . Both were thrilled. Their joy knew no bounds. The two school buddies were highly ecstatic. They embraced each other even as Vrishabhanu and Nandakumar looked on silently. As they say separation makes hearts grow fonder and the two who were always in each others thoughts were never really away from one another.

It was a pleasant surprise. The girls now women past fifty were excited as ever and Kirti was on cloud nine. She had spotted Yashoda first. Slowly, approaching her from her back....Kirti came close to her, brought her hands around Yashoda and closed her eyes with her palms.

"Can you say who this is ?" Kirti whispered into Yashoda's ears. Yashoda was taken by surprise. Yet ! Kirti was her best friend and how could she ever forget her voice. Yashoda was quick to identify Kirti...Instantly she retorted back " Hey! This is my dearest friend Kirti" and she cried out in ecstasy....

"Oh ! How come you are here ?' Kirti asked her.

"We are on the verge of retirement and posted back to Chennai ," Yashoda replied and so in the process of shifting ." she added.

"How are your little boys ?" Kirti went on to ask. "Oh ! They are fine, grown up to be six footers," saying Yashoda pointed her finger towards the two tall handsome boys standing in one corner of the hall.

Kirti was taken aback..."Who they ? The two boys in the Red Kurta ? they...your boys Yashoda ? ".Yes Indeed Kirti, "replied Yashoda As the best friends chatted on, the boys moved towards them. Yashoda introduced them. "Hey Kirti... Please meet my sons Gopal and Gokul. They are twenty three years old." The boys greeted Kirti with folded hands and bowed to her in respect. Kirti was highly impressed.

Kirti was still in a state of disbelief ,but extremely happy to meet them as her eyes searched for her daughters Rukmini and Sathyabhama who had mingled in the crowd.

Recalling memories, the two buddies laughed hysterically and it was unexpected fun unlimited. The boys were cheerful too just like the mother. Infact a carbon copy of the mom. Continuing with the intro Yashosa went on to say..". Gopal is an aeronautical engineer and Gokul is a doctor doing his internship. "What are your girls doing ?"..she asked...

"Please give me your address " Kirti told Yashoda. We have to stay in touch..come what may "..she added. Immediately Gopal took out a pen from his kurta pocket, brought out a paper and started writing with his left hand...."Is he left handed just like you ? Kirti asked Yashoda..."Oh ! Yes ! and Gokul is right handed like his father.

The boys have taken after me in their looks and their Dad in their behaviour...Yashoda added with a great sense of pride....

So here comes the twist in the story.....

Nature never ceased to amaze her and yet when Kirti came across the boys after so many years she was surprisedly stunned too. She was fully aware. Yet ! it was difficult for her to accept. How could it be ? she had thought unto herself.

This is freaking magical. Absolutely divine. Strange are the ways of the Lord. The boys are not Yashoda's own sons and yet they are a splitting image of the mother.The way they speak, the mannerisms only seem to suggest that they are the biological children. Amazed and too surprised to even react, Kirti stared at them in disbelief. The strapping young lads were too good looking and Kirti couldn't get her eyes off them.

Many years back when Yashoda had been diagnosed with uterine cancer she had to be operated for removal of the tumour. She had been married just for a year .Her husband and the entire family had stood by her like a rock. A crestfallen Yashoda seeing dreams being shattered in front of her eyes had wept inconsolably and that was when Nandakumar had consoled her saying that all was not lost and they could still adopt and have children to call as their own....

Very soon the couple adopted twin boys aged three years old and named them Gopal and Gokul.

At that time Kirti was very happy for her friend. Meanwhile in her parents home at Chennai, Kirti was awaiting her D Day. It was past full term and the ultra sound examination earlier in the sixth month of her pregnancy had showed twins. A couple of days later, Kirti gave birth to two bonny baby girls. Yashoda and her boys had come to the nursing home to meet Kirti. The boys had pleaded with their mother to take the babies in their arms...Unable to manage their nagging and pestering, Yashoda had to take leave soon...

Now after two decades, time seemed to have stood still...It took them back by 20 years. Draped in a Kancheevaram pattu saree, Yashoda was a picture of grace and poise. Kirti in a sparkling silk cotton exuded charm and confidence with the grey streaks in her hair adding to give her a dignified look.

Yashoda still looks pretty young...Kirti thought....or perhaps she dyes her hair, she was thinking nearly aloud, unable to take her gaze off the pretty face. Her hair tied in a French plait, Yashoda indeed looked lovely...

The persona of the boys revealed all the traits of Yashoda. Yashoda had adopted them as three year olds and Kirti was fully aware of that....

This is not the only case of adoption that she knew amongst her close circle of family and friends. What amazed her was the tremendous parent child resemblance and bonding in this particular relationship in the absence of the umblical link.

Engaged in hilarious banter, the foursome...Rukmini, Sathyabhama, Gopal and Gokul were seen to be very friendly, moving around comfortably with family and friends even as people around were enquiring rather curiously. " Whose children are they ? The girls are pretty and the boys dashing...Identical twins huh ?"

"They make a cute foursome..Don't they ?" a young woman was heard telling her mother...The twins were a tad bit embarassed and the parents chuckled with pride....

The next gen was coming of age. Nicetys and compliments exchanged, mutually admiring one another, the four head turners headed towards the dining hall.......

All characters are fictitious and bear no resemblance to any person living or dead !

KEEP THE SUNSHINE IN !

2016-07-11T20:58:00.001-07:00

A Wedding anniversary is a milestone,

each more special than the previous one.

The first is precious,

and second a treasure.

Third is for growing more in love.

and fourth to understand each other.

Fifth to learn from one another.

and sixth to accept each other.

Seventh to let go and yet be together.

The Eighth to understand and know

that problems are challenges

to cross and once the bridge is behind

the path is clear.

coz when the goal is one

victory is certain.

Ninth and the bond got stronger.

Mutual commitments the key to success.

Tenth and lady love stays at the helm.

Eleventh onwards they are best friends forever.

Twelfth, a reminder to remember the special day.

Thirteenth for more love and care for one another,

in the midst of tiffs and squabbles.

Fourteenth for each to realise,

that one cannot do without the other.

Fifteenth to invoke more blessings,

from elders and the almighty above.

Sixteenth in jubiliation of a relationship

that has stood the test of time.

Seventeenth to cherish fondly and look back

at memories of love which brought them together.

Eighteenth to keep thanking God for the friendship,

that survived many a storm and a hardship.

Nineteenth to look up to the heavens in gratitude.

Twentieth to honour, coz it was made in heaven.

Twentyfirst and not yet half way to vintage.

Twenty second, the love was still blooming with age.

Twentythird and prayers for a smooth sail.

Twentyfourth to acknowledge contributions

with a sense of great satisfaction.

Twentyfifth to rejoice with friends and family.

Twentysixth to wonder how fast indeed time can fly !

Twentyseventh in dignity to complement one another

Twenteighth majestic, a toast to the couple who look great together.

Twentyninth and rocking, on and off a roller coaster.

Thirteeth onwards, to celebrate the imperfection

and to revere them with respect as "The Perfect Couple"

To be continued...............................................

Sibling Love and A Mother's Recipe !

2016-07-10T23:58:00.001-07:00

“What are you making for us, Amma?”a curious Nayaki asked her mother Vijaya.

I am making a yummy dish for the two of you she said.”

“Ooooh, what is it? Is it sandwiches and omlette?!”little Nayaki asked her mother as she grinned sheepishly knowing pretty well that the orthodox mom would rather keep the little mouths hungry rather than feed them on eggs.

Subbu was a sporting Dad. He reprimanded his wife Vijaya often, rather lovingly, chiding her to give in to his little girl's whims and fancies..

"Do what you wish to !" Vijaya would retort back once in a blue moon.

It was the year 1975. Subbu and Vijaya lived in Kolkata with their two sweet children…Nayaki 10 and Ambi 5 years old.

The mom daughter conversation continued and yet Vijaya was very much focused on her work. Her fingers moved deftly and as she stirred the contents of the bowl, Nayaki was getting more curious..

"Oh ! What’s it that you are making for us Amma?" She pestered her mother and cribbed...

"I am hungry, amma"..saying she ran into her study room. It was midsummer, a warm Sunday morning and past breakfast time.

"Sweetie ! Kannamma ! Come here my dear. Breakfast is nearly ready," Vijaya called out to her little girl.

In a loud but loving voice…she repeated…."It is healthy, it's special. It’s something Grandma is not too adept at making." Can you guess my dear, said Vijaya before breaking into laughter

Grandmother Kannamani was away on her annual holiday to her native village near Villupuram and Vijaya had donned the temporary role of the official cook of the Iyer family.

Hearing her mother call out, Nayaki came running back into the kitchen.

The family of four lived in a two bedroomed second floor flat on R B Avenue…As was the practice as much as possible, they dined together and sat down on the floor to eat. Eating times were fun times when amma served with love and the rest helped in passing around the dishes.

“Can I help?' asked Nayaki.

"Can I pour the stuff into the bowl? Mom let me pour the stuff into the bowl. I have washed my hands." she said…Vijaya was a cleanliness freak..Oh! My ! the septuagenarian is still obsessed with hygiene…

Vijaya would oil her little girl's hair, comb and put her hair in a high ponytail.

Nayakui used to wonder…"Oh ! Why does amma have to do this to me whenever I am hungry ?"

Hmmmm. You don’t have to..I cant trust you…Where have you been ? Colouring with crayons..Uh ?” a doting mother spoke much lovingly .

“Okay, I’ll leave it to you , "Nayaki replied with a huff. "This is so much fun!" she said.

"What’s that, what are you doing now?” Amma dearest.

“Chopping onion and chillies, dear" amma replied.

“Cool, that’s cool. What else do you have? I see butter, is that the natural unsalted home made butter ?”

“Yes.”my dear…..Vijaya looked and smiled at her baby…Her little girl was growing up fast…

“Mom let me stir this…Is this curd ? and before I can taste the final dish can I have a small cup of curd please ?"…Nayaki loved milk and curd. And what’s that?” Nayaki went on to ask her mother.....even as she was puzzled....

Her dad made the best omlettes but he never used curd or milk..."Strange are the ways of amma,"...she thought...

“This is milk. Listen, once I am done with this work, you are going to have this without complaining…”Right my dear”, a stern loving mother Vijaya was heard telling her daughter Nayaki.

And all the while Ambi thambi was a silent specatator, too busy to get involved as new ideas were brewing in his naughty mind….

"Please don’t- don’t tell amma," he had told his elder sis…just a little while ago…." I used it, okay?”

Nayaki was waiting for an opportunity to spill the beans and ensure that thambu got a good scolding. Thambu was always landing her in trouble.

She was hungry. "The complaint can wait."…she told herself." Let me fill my tummy first and later with a clear mind, I can complain about bro to amma ." She waited patiently....Eggs were still out of her sight....

In the meantime, Vijaya came out of the kitchen with a bowl which contained water. Slowly she poured the greyish pearlish coloured water into another container.

Ma…what’s left in the vessel ?….an innocent Nayaki, asked her mother

With a broad beam on her face, Vijaya replied…"That is yesterday’s left over cooked rice my dear, " saying she mashed the rice well with her hands, added a glass of thick milk, a bowl of thickly set curd and mixed the rice well. She added the finely chopped onion and chillies, butter and salt to taste even as Nayaki looked on in disbelief…The tempering done in fresh ghee, curd rice was ready to be served.

"No…this cannot be my breakfast, screamed the little girl..."No Amma...This is not fair," she cried much to the glee of a younger brother who looked on innocently. Nayaki shut her eyes tight to make sure that she was asleep and this was only a dream...

Alas it was only too real as she heard her mother's voice again..."Ambi…Come here my boy,"….Vijaya called out to her son..

With visions of toast butter and omlette clearly in front of her eyes, Nayaki sat down, disbelievingly with her mouth wide open. Vijaya slowly and lovingly placed the first urundai of pisinja payaethu thayiru sadham ( curd rice prepared from the previous day's left over rice) into Nayaki’s mouth……With her mouth sealed and tummy soon to be filled pondering on Omlettes whether maybe next Sunday or not, Nayaki swallowed the rice balls with much difficulty....She was an obedient child...

Forty years hence...nothing has changed much on the milk and the curd front. Nayaki, no longer an eggetarian, seated on the floor with cousins, inherent traits remaining the same, yet another chat session was coming alive with renewed energy and the same enthusiasm……..

“Ambi, what are you doing?Just you wait till I catch ya " Nayaki was heard yelling at her brother. "Are you taking a picture of amma giving the thayir sadham urundai(ball of curd rice) in my hand and don’t tell me now that you have already sent it to our family groups on Whatsapp?!” exclaimed a furious fifty something young woman.

"Just you wait, six footer fella till I post yours…of amma feeding straight into your mouth. Let me tag you with the pics of curd mulagai, green mulagai ( Mulagai is chilly)…and the kadugu (mustard seeds) and the ginger and the kothamalli…Just you wait till I make a collage and I upload it for the public to see right on your FB Timeline…..!”

MILAGU RASAM AND FORTY WINKS !!!!!!!

2016-07-06T23:44:00.001-07:00

The better days are nearly gone and I am still unable to think..Oh ! What a pity ! A week is almost gone without any literary pursuit..Oh ! What a pity.

The morning cuppa was just right.The second was good and the third one was by far the best...Yet ! an upper storey,failed to light up and remained plagued in darkness...

I have to admit that my maid motivates me to work.So when she is around,I am brisk and active and when she leaves,that's when a sense of completion overwhelms me and I am free to think..

It was 7AM,I pulled the curtains to let the morning ray of sunshine in.I had not overslept...It was intentional. I was making the most of a well deserved national holiday. As I lay awake, I made up my mind to work hard, really hard, so that I would be able to think....

So,I pulled out the bedspreads, the pillow covers and the cushion covers. Straight they went into the washing machine. The bed ,the pillows and the cushions got a new makeover and I was pleased. I paused to think.Have I been able to think ?...

"No! Not yet my dear," said an inner voice..

Unperturbed, I went about ,on not so routine chores...The kitchen is the best place to be in, when in search of new ideas. So I got into familiar territory. MTR's Rava idli is good, fast to cook and good to eat.With breakfast done, and no headway into new thoughts, I continued undeterred..

I checked the provisions available..The filled glass bottles and the Tupperware are proof of sufficient stock.A sense of contentment overpowered me and I was pleased. The sparkling stainless vessels are an indication of Tambrahm power and so powerful I feel...The tamarind,salt and pickles occupy their much deserved position in the porcelain jars...AAh ! That's indeed gratifying....and should empower me to have a taste of my own writing......So i thinketh......

I moved from the cellar to the altar..I cleaned the silverware with vibhuti ,and scrubbed the bronze and brassware with tamarind…I wiped the photos,drew the daily kolams and lit the oil lamp...I prayed to the Gods for the gift of creative thought,so that I could think...think well ,so that I could write and write at my best so that my happy hormones could be elevated….badly need them for the months ahead.

The lunch preparation began with a bang...The safety valve in the tiny pressure cooker went bust...I was not going to be worried anyway...A long association in a joint family has also helped to retain,procure and stock all that I need and all that I don't ,in multiples of two and more,so that cooking continues uninterrupted…The menu is Capsicum sambhar, Kovakkai curry, Milagu rasam and Thenga Thugaiyal.....

Lunch is also done…..My Godmother Maya Devi made her presence felt in the fleeting moments when she mopped the floor and washed the utensils. Home is where the heart is…Home is where the tiffs begin and end. Home is where occupation begins with preoccupation…Home is where laughter is interspersed with tears…Home is where you long to be in when you are out and out when you are in…Home is where relationships stand the test of time and are not strained by silly angst within……..

So ! in the midst of squabbles and the tiffs, in between kisses and hugs, when the hungry mouths are fed,when the God mother has left with a promise to be back tomorrow, when the forty winks will run to a couple of hours…that is when I am inspired to think….

and so signing off as Hitachi says...Inspire Next....

Give me some ideas and I will chip in with some more....It’s a Quid Pro Quo !

2016-06-26T20:26:00.002-07:00

The last word of each paragraph (in double quotes) is a Latin word and the first word or words (in single quotes) of the next paragraph is the meaning of the Latin word. The poem is incomplete and can be continued.......

Latin is a language which I do not know.

Yet ! it thrives in my expressions apropos.

Where words work out that is a word gym.

and plagiarism is simply copying “verbatim.”

‘Word by word,' I learn and explain

Isn't this how all wordy nerds train ?

It's all Greek. Alpha, Beta, Gamma and Delta.

and if my grey cells light up, “mea culpa ?”

'At fault,' I claim total responsibility.

"Ye ! woman," I say," Unleash your writing creativity,

poetry, prose or limericks, all side by side,

and self certified as being yours, “bonafide.”

'Genuine' and real is indeed the need of the hour.

So, I put on a thinking cap to enhance my word power.

I shunned the cuts, pastes and wore a broad beam

and told myself, " Start writing, “carpe diem.”

'Seizing the day,' is a lesson I have learnt often.

Screen and keys have taken over the paper and pen .

The impetus is slowly gaining momentum.

Will I now be able to resume longhand “ad infinitum ?”

Latin words and their meanings have been sourced from the internet to compose these verses.

WATER"UMA"RKED :-) :-)

2016-06-25T02:41:00.000-07:00

I have jobs pending at home and I feel so dumb,

when my timeline wall lists pending items some.

It’s been a good week and please allow me to rhyme.

I promise, I will not take much of your time.

Long ago, not so long ago, I wrote under the pseudonym Plum.

I composed verses over a cocktail of ginger ale and rum.

Weekend is over and I am in a mood not so euphoric.

I play daily with words to solve the crossword cryptic.

In the world of words, I dare to venture,

Bcoz ! without rhymes, alas ! there's no adventure.

Here's a game for us and them to play.

It’s great fun and you will thank me all the way.

Let's begin and I start with a few examples.

Think, exercise your grey cells to get a few samples.

The rules are simple and the tag line is creativity.

Try to coin new English words keeping in mind, brevity.

For instance INDIGENIUS could mean “ intelligence local.”

Strive to achieve a state of concentration at a point focal.

EXCENTRIC could mean “To be obsessed with memories of an ex.”

and I type in capitals simply for the hype and an effect.

DEBTONATION means “ self immolation by an insolvent country. ”

I have to make Parathas for lunch and Ouch ! I am hungry.

WRENDEZVOUS is “ A forum for grammar addicts.”

I was at wit’s end thinking , what if such a forum really exists ?

This game evoked the SCRABBLEROUSER in me,

which means “An expert in vocabulary” you see.

If BEERPRESSURE is “ To be influenced my members of a beer group,”

To that extent , “ Oh Lord ! I pray ! may I never stoop ! “

FRIEDAY is “ A day that comes before a Scorchy Saturday. “

Will there be thundershowers in the month of May ?

An EGGALITARIAN “ believes that eggs, good and bad are the same.”

I hope I have given you a fair idea about this wonderful game.

BEAUTOXED is "the mental state of an admirer spell bound

by an age defying transformation that can astound"

If NIGHTHOOD means a sleeping status,

this game is certainly a virus contagious.

To sum it up "Exercise and brainstorming helps keep Alzheimers at bay."

PURRVIEW is “ The ambit within which one stays contended, “ I say.....

WHO COINS THEM ?

2016-06-24T18:41:00.001-07:00

This post is purely a fragment of my imagination ! Quite like Unreal News.Com !

Note that the countries come in alphabetical order !

A portmanteau of the words British and Exit is BREXIT.
Would that cause to render an union decrepit ?
or would the union bounce back better ?
grow by leaps and bounds, stronger and greater ?

Immersed in thoughts and tales of history,
of relinquishments, annexures and victory,
of subjugations and the fight for freedom,
I was playing scrabble in the quest for wisdom.

Portmanteau of Oust and Austria is OUSTRIA.
Bye to Belgium for BYEGIUM in all it's gloria,
Czech and off and CZECHOFF it is.
Denmark to Quit as DENQUIT and I'm in splits.

ESTOVICT is morphed from Estonia and Evict.
and Finland headed for a Shift to a stable FINSHIFT.
Germany is set to run for a stronger GERRUN,
and now care to join me in this game, Anyone ?

The Brexits have set the ball rolling.
Playing with words is so fulfilling.
Hungary and please let's Break for dinner.
Some voted for HUNBREAK and an union got thinner.

Shown the way, Italy is all set to Leave
as ITALEAVE, leaving an union to grieve.
Luxemborg to Pass through to LUXEMPASS,
reducing the union to a tiny landmass.

Voting for a referendum too,
Malta is set to bid Adieu
as MALTADIEU, an economy self sufficient
and as a nation safer and independent.

As NETHERVALE, Netherlands followed suit
even as experts were trying to get to the root
of a larger problem as one that could impact
the world as a whole. Was it time to exercise prudence & tact ?

T'was the moment to Depart and the turn had come
for Portugal to take a stance from
either opting to remain or to follow the torchbearers.
Thus was born DEPARTUGAL in search of better pastures.

Are we moving out too ? Spain and Out ! exclaimed Senorita.

Handclapping and finger snapping, she danced, as the pretty Maria,

into SPAINOUT, expressing her anguish in a soulful melody

T'was an outpouring of emotions arising from separation and melancholy.

Please correct me if I am wrong.

Why should nations break away from where they belong ?
Should they not stay together in times of adversity ?
Does not strength comes from unity and diversity ?

Acknowledgement : Images from the internet.

Inspiration : Online Circulated Word play .

PARENTING.....SOME THOUGHTS !

2015-08-10T20:05:00.001-07:00

So the summer break is over in India, which means ‘Back to school with heavy bags on tender backs, new water bottles hanging on shoulders , chart paper and cellophane sheets rolled in the hands and all. Time when parents have shift duties to perform, when they need to be up early to pull kids out of bed and drag them into the wash room to get their teeth brushed and awaken the sleepy brats with a water splash on the face followed by an immediate body shower. It's the story of going to bed the previous day with a mind full of school going and home coming, thoughts of sharing the stress of project-work, reading and writing together, mid term tests, a fixed waking-up time, drop and pick up, menu for the school lunch box, books arranged as per the time table, a properly equipped pencil box, geometry box, colour pencils and crayons, uniform, ironing, Bata shoes, black and white cherry blossom polish, socks, ties, bag packing, listening to complaints and stories of broken test tubes etc. etc. etc.

Phew! The ‘My kid goes to school’ project is a difficult one. Planned Plan A could be the best but with kids, it would be good to keep reminding yourself about unpredictabilities and stay prepared with a back up plan say Plan B, C, D............Z to fall upon. How you act in a particular situation becomes the plan of that moment.

The school working hours keep changing every year. From 1 hour at first in LKG to full working days on weekends and holidays in ClassXII, all that is required at the parent's end is presence of mind, the ability to stay alert and be prepared to adhere to the timings.

Quarterlies , halfyearlies and finals are crucial testing times, sometimes in the forenoon and sometimes in the afternoons. But ! as a parent no matter what, you never give up on your kids - No matter how trying the situations are, key is to remember "This too shall pass " and it does, I speak from experience here.

Parenting in school is all about mediating and doing the patching up, explaining to your own child, teaching the child to be competitive with himself, to perform to the best of his capacity without comparison and sometimes talking to a parent whose child bullies others in the class.

Now, when I count the money, I would have spent on transport, school projects, annual functions and excursions, I thank my stars. As compared to the exorbitant fees charged now school fees were much cheaper a few years ago and convent education came with several concessions. The annual fees in Class X came to around Rs 8000/- only. Text books and notebooks were provided by the school at a nominal cost. School authorities took orders for the uniforms. All that the students had to do was to assemble class wise as per the dates mentioned, form a line roll no wise, give the measurements and go back to class. Pay and take atleast a minimum of three sets at a time was the option given to the parents. The weekends, vacations and rainy days were time for parents to celebrate and take it easy.

The school provided free education to under priviliged children. Call it a pitfall or a blessing of studying in a school which accomodated girl children only from all strata of society, while the children learned to be friendly with all, they came back home with heads loaded with lice. Though holidays meant leisure from pressure, at the same time it meant looking into various options on eradication of lice and how to prevent further infestation...

LETTER FROM A MOM TO HER DAUGHTERS !

2015-08-10T19:01:00.000-07:00

Some memories of my daily sermonising routine a few years back when my girls were in piggy tails and in school.....

Dearest daughters,

Now that you are in high school, I request you to take responsibility of taking care of yourselves. You can fend for yourselves, and I, your mother, have made it easy for you to do so. Anyway that is my job and when you are grown up, taller than me and competent enough to stand on your own legs, I will still be doing as much as I can to make things easy for you.

I am at work and when the two of you come back from school, here's what you should be doing and what not till I arrive.

Step 1 : "For making you happy "

"There are cakes.... spongy cup cakes and black forest pastries, sweet buns, bread, cream, cheese, butter, milk and curd in the refriegerator. There is the colourful fruit salad which I made specially for the two of you. There are two small alphonso mangoes on the kitchen table . I forgot to tell you about the cold chocolate milk and orange juice inside the fridge...But hey wait. The first thing that you are going to do once you get home is to open the fridge door...I know that, but..do not partake of any of these till you have followed the instructions in Step 2."

Step 2 :" For lunch at 3PM when you are back from school."

"That is your designated lunch hour as fixed by me, your mother. Adhere to it. I made aviyal and aloo roast today. I have kept rasam satham and curd rice in two separate containers on the dining table. Please share it equally. Do not waste the vegetables. Do remember to have the salad and the boiled vegetables too. No, there isn’t much pickle left. And no, I am not inclined to buy any pickle on my way home from work...Anyway you may have curd rice with the tangy puli inji..That's good for you...Now you may move to Step 1 and you are free to ransack the fridge."

"Dear girls, I am sorry if you feel you must call me at the office with your tales of discontent and displeasure of having to consume the same rice every day. I am sorry if you feel deprived because I said "No" when you wanted to make maggi or order a pizza and garlic bread."

Dear girls, I cooked with a generous dollop of love. Please have the food without complaining. Otherwise Goddess Annapoorani will weep. After finishing, clean the table and go to play outside. I have checked the air in the cycles. I got a new set of badminton corks. I have kept them on your study table. Studies and homework can wait till Uma Amma gets home...

Your loving Mother
smile emoti