Scribbles from the mind

Liberosis

2026-03-31T22:48:00.000-07:00

Liberosis

Did you know that this word existed? I did not till about a week ago. It means 'the longing to care less about things, to loosen one's grip on life's pressures, anxieties, and responsibilities'. And Bingo! something clicked into place. This is exactly me. Each time my chronic companion, the clinical D (call it sadness if it sounds better) rears his head, I slip into my hibernation mode. I try not to let people who don't really know me, see me. I'm the highly functional kind, so no one usually gauges from the exterior but some days, the facade tends to crack. During those times, I try avoid social gatherings (not that my life is bustling with those) because in case someone discerns the crack, I'm sometimes subjected to well meaning discourses on 'look at me, I had so so issues, don't you see me bearing up? In comparison, what exactly is wrong with your life?'.

It's more than what is going on in my life. of course, the personal front is not all song and dance but definitely does not cloud my ability to distinguish between 'I cried because I had no shoes until I met a man who had no feet'. My issue is I'm unable to look away from the 'man who had no feet'. Things amplify in my mind space. Am i making sense? I hope I am to the few who will read through this ramble. Because, the hope is to speak aloud and clear out the clutter.

The current West Asia crisis hasn't been gentle on my mind. Physically I'm safe and reside in a peaceful nook that is trying hard to maintain its stability. But, I cant unsee...

-the 'over a 100 elementary school kids and their teachers' who as usual waved good bye that morning before they left home;

- the one/two/three/more outdoor workers whose routine doesn't provide the luxury of work from home killed by falling missile debris;

-the civilians who were in transit before falling debris exploded them;

-the thousands of Indian expat kids who weren't able to sit for their 12th boards (of course, life goes on but would platitudes have been easy if my child was one among the many);

-the LPG impact on hostels/residential facilities grappling to 'feed' the youngsters who depend on them (the private instituitions that charge a loot might feature differently but the crowd they cater to is a different breed);

-shutters on the roadside eateries that cater to the gazillion gig workers whose binge working makes life easy for us but barely keeps his/her life together...

-'Amazon Warehouse Workers Face Hunger: Amazon India Workers Union'...the news article reflects on the lakhs of migrant workers who cant 'book' LPGs but depend on private players that sell 1-2 kg portable cylinders on which they 'community cook' or actual roadside eateries (not fancy thattu kadas);

-when friends and families residing in GCC mention in a matter of fact voice "we can see and hear the missile interceptions, the broadcast-based emergency alerts keep sounding...but life goes on";

-Human Rights Activists News Agency (HRANA) says that 1,464 civilians including at least 217 children have been killed...

All this and more amplifies in my mind even more so when I hear people whose lives are maybe just slightly inconvenienced, crib out aloud. I do understand that it is simply human nature to notice only that which inconveniences ones own daily living. Its not deliberate apathy or inconsiderateness. Its just our nature. And, like a dear relative with whom I personally discussed this honestly exclaimed, "Oh! I did not really notice all this. For us, it was just the cooking cylinder worry".

"I chatter, chatter, as I flow

To join the brimming river,

For men may come and men may go,

But I go on forever..."

As one grows older, these lines from Tennyson's famous poem makes more sense. Reading it in class, as mandatory study material, we do not really realise how deep these lines are. Like the 'The Brook' that flows on irrespective of what happens, life goes on. Hope life brings a better tomorrow for our children...

Winds of change...its now or never!

2023-12-07T20:47:00.000-08:00

We met on a matrimonial site. Circa 2003. His proposal was shortlisted mainly because he was a doctor and both my parents too were doctors. Appa had a special respect for his chosen fraternity and I shared it, what with being brought up by two and after having worked as a medical journalist.

As was common in those days, my profile was created in such a way that it was my Appa who was on the lookout for suitable matches for his child. But then again, it being those years, dad was not very computer savvy and it was I who drafted the profile. One of the important points it stated was, 'We, as a family, do not believe in the dowry system. And, if yours does, please do not respond to this profile'.

Dr. Satish (his real name) wrote in his interest to my father, in perfect, old school gentleman style. Appa was impressed. He was in training for his MRCPCH in the UK. Soon after, we began corresponding. I had taken a break from work to do a second Masters during that time and was in Chennai. His parents were retired and settled in Bangalore.

I was home in Kerala on a short break and his parents visited. It was a short, informal meet and they claimed that they too wanted to settle in Kerala and had come to check out a property they had shortlisted at Kottayam (my hometown). After I returned to Chennai, Satish during the course of one of our chats (it was yahoo and hotmail chat times) said, "My mother really liked that carved, antique teapoy set in your house. Are the tusks on those carved elephants real ivory?". I was gobsmacked that a first time visitor would pay such attention to details of furniture etc. The conversation changed soon after.

Fast forward a few more weeks, the alliance was on in full arranged marriage style. Satish came down to India. We met at home, with parents in tow. His parents had bought a very old house in Kottayam, which they mentioned that they planned to renovate. As in most arranged marriage meets, I felt no special spark at our meeting. But yet, two incidents happened which struck me as very odd. When we had a few minutes alone, Satish in great hurry thrust a small gift into my hand and said, "I brought this for you, but don't take it out before my parents". And, the second was when his mother requested to my mom that she wanted to see me in a saree. I did voice my protest to mom but she mollified me saying it was a harmless request. And, when I did wear a saree, the lady looked at me, nodded as if satisfied and said, "She does not look like my elder daughter in law who is so stocky. My DIL looks so rotund in a saree".She also brought out a wedding picture of the elder son to show us his wife.

The two incidents kept playing on my mind. But contrary to my usual nature, I did not voice this to my parents. The main reason was because I was riddled with guilt, for already disappointing them twice - once, over a never should have happened love affair and second, a haphazard attempt at proposing to a friend on the rebound and which did not work out (on hindsight luckily for both of us). I was 28. I decided to voice my concerns to a senior Psychiatric counsellor who mentored me during my summer apprenticeship at an NGO. Looking back, I do not know if it was his traditional upbringing or he simply did not want to take the responsibility of a marital alliance break up, he told me, "Focus on the positive side. Satish likes you so much that he brought you that gift. Maybe his parents are conservative and that is why he chose to hide it from them".

A couple of weeks fast forward. A wedding date is set and the hall booked. We are corresponding on a regular basis too.

Then one day, a phone call from Appa.

" Dear,I want to ask you something.Do you really like Satish? Will you be very disappointed if this does not work out? If so, tell me and I will make this happen". Appa, what exactly is this? Tell me...

To cut a long story short, once the date and venue were fixed the 'would have been in-laws' had made the following statements, over many days...

-How much gold are you planning to give Molu (daughter). You saw my elder daughter in law's picture, no. She was wearing 100 sovereigns. It's not that we want anything but if Molu can't match that, then she might be embarrassed.

-We want a very grand wedding here. But since we are settled in Bangalore for several years, all our friends are there. So, we want you to give a grand reception there.

-Since you are not from Bangalore, how about giving us Cash in advance so that we can arrange the Reception in Bangalore.

After that 3rd call, my dad had put them on hold and said, "I'd like to talk to my daughter and ask her opinion". Till then, he hadnt told me because he too (like I did) assumed he might disappoint me!

Appa, don't even ask me, call this off immediately.

Appa, however, decided to give it one last shot by emailing Satish about this. The guy responded, "See Doctor, my parents are only trying to make your daughter's life comfortable. After all this is all for her. Even here I have just bought an apartment, wont she get that too". That made us laugh! The sheer ludicrousness.

We called it off.

Circa 2023.

Yet another smart, beautiful professional lady, with a brilliant future ahead of her, decides to end it all. Her would be groom called off the wedding because the dowry was not enough! Yet another statistic, yet another news item from my cent percent literate State.

I was in two minds before penning this down. Will I be able to get the message across in the right manner? Does it sound like I'm preening? Its sheer luck that I had a man like my dad as father. Pure destiny. But, then I decide to pen it down because over the years, I've realised that the courage that most people around me associate me with is something that was taught to me by my dad.

Why is it that we instill in our daughters that her 'self worth' is determined by someone else. Why do we teach her to measure her societal status by how docile she is? Perhaps that is the unspoken code of conduct that we instill deep in them by how we lead our own lives. Mothers who let themselves be trampled, walked over and treated as properties. Fathers who show them this is how real 'alpha males' treat their women, don't dare dream for better.

PS: Let us not make any judgemental/patronising comments or opinions about the young medico who passed away. We, in no way, know what she went through. Rest in Peace, young one.

Reverse empty nest syndrome

2023-06-19T12:41:00.004-07:00

With nuclear families, almost everyone has become familiar with the concept of 'The empty nest syndrome'- we've either experienced it or seen someone experiencing it. But, what about the reverse? Maybe, I'll call it the Reverse Empty Nest syndrome. This is the term that came to mind when I attempted to name the strange feeling of 'uprootedness' that hit me, periodically...and,over the years. I tried searching the term on the internet and it did throw up an article or two but these were mostly about youngsters whose parents shifted residence, geographically, while they were away in Universities. And, not from an Indian perspective. What is special about the Indian perspective,you ask? Well, we seem to have a culture-specific propensity to delay moving out of our parents' homes and, even if we do move out we keep coming back, we never quite quit thinking of our parental homes as some kind of base, a taproot perhaps.

I got employed just after my 22nd birthday,in another state. Each journey back and forth saw my entire family heading out to the railway station to either see me off or see me in. My Appa, used to drive me crazy with his repeat phone calls to check if I'd checked/rechecked my tickets, if the train/bus was on time, when would I be reaching (though he knew it) etc etc. Once the destination moved from Chennai to Bangalore, the journey moved from trains to overnight buses so that I could alight closer home. It also meant the buses reached early in the morning by 6.30 or so. Appa would wake up much much earlier and come over to where I alight, atleast 1/2 hr in advance. Like all youngsters, I found his solicitousness annoying and at times, have even told him off.

Later, when I moved along with the spouse to Middle East, my amma, took over the role. And, though I did try to convince her to not undertake the 3 hour car ride to pick me up as I arrive at the airport, she came saying she'd like to spend the time during the trip back home talking to me. I was secretly glad. This phase ended when amma moved to be with my sibling.

Then, home base shifted to where my in-laws resided. More specifically, my mother in law. The two years that Covid raged, we did not make the trip to Kerala. December 2021, I took my then preteen, home for a two week visit. When I called to inform them of our plans to visit, my eldest sister in law, who was there, simply said, "I'm so happy that you are coming". I was beyond happy to hear that! And, when we arrived, I saw my usually not very emotive father in law literally beam. Those two weeks were some of the happiest times my daughter and I had.

In June 2022, I went again. But, this time it was for a scheduled spine surgery. During a casual chat, on one of my days of recuperation, my mother in law stated. "Why am I, such an old person, alive when so many youngsters die?". Amma, it is because you are here that I could take it easy after my surgery, I told her. Her face cleared. That trip was the last I saw her alive.

We will be travelling to India, hopefully soon. My father in law is still there. My sisters in law too. But now, I know this too is a time bound luxury. In an average person's life, there are broadly 2 phases. The one when you have your parents with you and the other, when they are not around. This strikes you, even more, at times when the body fails to match the pace your mind wants to set.

Reverse empty nest syndrome...

For Appa

2022-05-17T07:02:00.001-07:00

Tommorrow is Appa's 77th birthday. Every now and then I keep wishing we'd had more opportunities to bond better. It took adulthood and a heartbreak for me to really get to know what a steadfast rock solid support he could be. It was like an invisible veil was lifted and we suddenly could understand each other so much better. Appa was pretty clueless when it came to building a real rapport with kids and this was 'one' reason why we bonded late. In a lot of ways I found my spouse almost the same when it came to Abhi. The comparison just made me work harder on making him emote/ relate better to her. And now, on several occasions when she cooly says, "Amma, I like Acha better. You are the fighter cock", the brat really doesn't realise how proud it makes me. All my work, luv, ha ha ha. A memoir I penned the year before last cropped up on my Facebook memories and my little brat read through it. She wisely said, " Amma, now you know why I always come and give you extra hugs...I shouldn't be missing you the way you now miss your dad". Healing can be hard when you dont forgive yourself and...others. It is time I did. For me, writing about it is a major way of sorting things within my head and so... It was the begining of May, 2007. We (Unni and I) had come down to Kerala from Bangalore on a 2 day visit to attend his cousin's daughter's wedding. We arrived the previous evening and since it was such a short visit, Unni decided to go to his parents' and I to mine. His had a full house with his sisters and their families too. And so, I felt no qualms about going straight to my home. We stay only 27 kms apart and it was decided I would join in with the wedding goers bus, the next morning, as it passed a point near my home. We'd also decided I would hop off as we journeyed back since the next day we had to return to B'lore and I would get only one more evening at home. Appa saw me off at the bus stop and I hopped in casually promising to return back home that evening. Now, it so happened that mom in law fell sick and decided to skip the trip. It was a 4 hour journey to Trivandrum from Kottayam, and back. Everything went well till the return journey started. Now at leisure, the many neighbour/distant relative wags that were along with us on the bus kept repeatedly asking me, "Arent you coming back to Arpookkara? Mother is sick"...and so on and so forth. I guess they were just harping on it as casual talk. But, as luck would have it, at that point I somehow felt guilty for deciding to stop at my house. And, I called my appa and told him," Appa, I wont be coming home. Please bring my luggage to the bus stop. I'm going to Arpookkara". Appa said nothing. He was there waiting on the roadside with my travel bag. I waved a quick bye(he disliked bidding goodbyes to me and would always look away) and got back in the bus. That is my last visual frame of him. The tall, distinguished figure standing next to the red swift car with my luggage. If I have the date right, it was the 5th,Saturday. On 17th, Thursday evening as I was on my way back from office, it was about 8.30 PM, I got an urgent call from my brother. He asked me to do something urgently with no questions asked and cut call. I did. After which I returned home and called him back hoping the emergency was over. Amma picked the mobile this time, she simply said, "Appa is gone". It did not strike me initially. Where would appa go now?. It took time to register. Or, maybe it never did register in my head. I did not expect my 6 footer, healthy, handsome dad to just disappear the way he did. He had no chronic health issues, maintained healthy routine and had been born into a family of people with robust lifespans. Then the internal struggle began. I felt guilty. For not keeping my promise of going back home to him. For not spending that one last evening with him. For allowing myself to be bullied out of my original decision by people who played no roles in my life. On introspection, I remembered how he who always made me 'unniyappams' and 'ada pradhamans' told me the last time he made, "I dont think I will be able to make this for you anymore. I'm not well".I paid absolutely no heed to that statement!! Why would I? He looked absolutely fine to me. Guilt intensified. Then, I felt anger. Anger at those women. Anger at anyone who dared to live their long lives. Why my appa? And, why on the eve of his 62nd birthday? He lived a life that was useful to so many, on a daily basis. And, he just went? He would have made a wonderful grandpa to my little girl with her love for stories. What wonderful stories he could tell! A zillion real life stories/adventures of his doctoring days in the remotest of places.He would've stacked up all the 'Balaramas' and 'Kalikudukkas'of the world, each year as she came down to Kerala on vacation. He would've been there to keep checking on me from the moment he knew I'd booked airtickets uptill the minute I stepped into his compound. But, it is time I healed. It is time I forgave myself. And, the best way for me to do that would be by reminding myself appa died the way he wanted. "Doctoring is the best profession" he would proclaim, "I can practise till the moment I die". And, that is the way he went. He went while attending to patients in his home clinic. And, in a split second. His face serene (I remember asking amma that), his dress immaculate (the way he always was). I will also heal by making a promise to him. He was someone who was immensely proud of me and could not bear to see me waste time. He kept my first professional visiting card displayed under the glass of his consultation table. I promise to get a hold over my life, one step at a time. I promise to prioritise.

Between You and Me...

2021-05-28T01:03:00.002-07:00

Recently, during a casual mom & dot banter, we were just taking stock of the 'trusted adults' in our circle. The dot pipes in,

"Amma, I really like XYZ aunty but don't really feel fully comfortable with Uncle XYZ".

I say okay and wait...

"...Amma, it's not that he has ever given me cause feel uncomfortable...it is just that I somehow don't feel fully okay..."

She paused, I could sense the small glimmer of 'self doubt' in her own judgement. But I wait. It comes.

"Amma, am I wrong? Is it okay if I don't feel comfortable about someone who has not given me any reason to feel so..."

Listen child...It is perfectly okay. Remember, you never, ever have to explain yourself for not feeling comfortable about someone or something. Trust your instinct & stay away. You have every right to say, I do not like this and move away...always. Never allow anyone to compel you into validating why you feel something or someone is not right. Not now, not ever. And, that someone can be anyone, be it your close of kin, a teacher, your parent's trusted ally...whosoever.

PS: Was reminded of this conversation in the light of the ongoing Chennai Schools abuse issue...especially a survivor who recounted her harrowing experience. What struck her more than the incident was the fact that her parents did not stand up for her.

Start young. Look your children in the eye and tell them you are there for them, no matter what! Talk to your kids. Yes, both girl kids & boy kids. Teach them it's okay to say 'No' without guilt.

Random...

2021-04-13T00:37:00.004-07:00

Are you someone who confuses 'Empathy' with 'Sympathy' too? I am someone who has worked hard at making myself understand the difference between the two...I don't always succeed but I try. Where am I going with this? Wait a bit... Those of us in Kerala recently woke up to the news of a young lady Banker who commited suicide within her workplace. People speculated as is usual. The debates took a new turn when a note penned by a senior representative of a Bank Employees Union spoke about increasing work stress and a new,target oriented work culture that was evolving within the banking sector. Soon, the note became 'viral' thanks to social media. As is always the case, when one view point gets popular, someone twiddling her/ his thumb over a smartphone elsewhere thinks up an opposing view point. 'We work to live and not the other way round. Every work has its associated work pressure, if one cannot handle that then one should be considered a misfit'...and so and so forth went the 'opinion'. This, somehow, reminded me of an incident that happened in my life when the 'Me too' movement had just started and people were shooting opinions both for and against. Someone close to me, whatsapped a personal forward. It was an opinion piece by a super senior lady doctor, born into a previleged family (upper class plus moneyed, deadly combination and protective factor). She had claimed that the 'Me too' movement was a farce propogated by women who used their sex to get favours and then when the time was right, called foul. She went onto state that she, during her 'illustrious' career never had to face unwanted advances from her male colleagues. She further claimed, it is totally the woman's charector that determines if she is subject to unwanted male advance. I went ballistic reading this. Now, the parallel I see in these two seemingly unconnected incidents is this. Both, the senior lady doctor as well as the person who declared if you cant take the stress, leave the job, speak from the same platform. That protected, hoodwinked platform that does not realise 'Choice' is not a luxury available to all. It is the same when you look at someone who stays in an abusive relationship and proclaim, 'If it were I, I would've walked out'. That is exactly the point. That person is Not you. Neither is that lady Bank Manager who passed on. Neither are the countless women who kept quiet for years before they found their voice. Just remembered this quote by an anonymous author, I'd read a while ago, "You know my name, not my story. You've heard what I've done, not what I've been through..."

When life puts you and me on pause...

2020-03-28T13:47:00.003-07:00

How does a pandemic of universal proportions, such as the one we are now in, affect us? I don’t mean the economic or physical toll it takes on us. Does something like this make us more thoughtful or selfish? Considerate or more entitled? Spiritual or superstitious? Have you pondered?

As almost everywhere else, we are on an ‘almost lockdown’ social situation too. This morning was my first venture outside to pick up essentials. As soon as I got out of the car I overheard a small altercation between the cleaning staff at the entrance, who was disinfecting trolleys, and a customer. The customer obviously was not satisfied with just the wiping down of the handle bars but wanted him to do the whole trolley. What struck me about the incident was that the man ‘demanded’ the service and then once he got it, marched away without even a smile.

Once inside, it was great to note that the majority paid heed to social distancing rules. But, what was missing too was the smile. I saw a lady in particular, who perhaps panicked at the sight of nearly 90% of the shoppers wearing masks, was attempting to hold her handkerchief as protection. When I saw her before the rack of sweeteners asking a clueless shelf stacker about icing sugar, I pointed it out to her. She practically recoiled, threw a scathing look at me and muttered, “I don’t want that one”. I checked if I had crossed the limits of ‘social distance’, I hadn’t.

Not all of us can be frontline heroes. But within our limited purviews, we still can do our bit.

Let us not be doomsday prophets

All of us love to be messengers of ‘tragedy’ (Aristotle was right). When it comes to news, we focus on the gory, the base, and the attention to blood curdling specifics. Think about it, are we as quick to share news of human happiness as that of falls. The same trait rears up when it comes to a contagion, a pandemic. We all become re-tellers of deep kept ‘conspiracy theories’ to predictions of unimaginable suffering. This trait, fuelled by social media, is education independent. Have you spared a minute to think about the spirals of despondency and panic this mindless pounding of misinformation could send the ‘vulnerable’ into? If you don’t have the time, the patience to verify don’t be mindless harbingers of misinformation. Especially, when it comes to something as serious as a pandemic.

Let us take as per our need and not greed…

I think a whole lot has been written about hoarding of provisions and the like, so let us focus elsewhere. As of date, the contagion has reached gargantuan proportions. Dr.Tedros Adhanom, the head of the World Health Organization, stated in a media briefing held earlier this week that a lot many countries and healthcare centres are worried over shortage of Personal Protective Gear (PPE), in simple terms the protective gear that frontline healthcare professionals need whilst working with severely ill patients. The Centre for Disease Control (CDC) states, “Supplies of N95 respirators can become depleted during an influenza pandemic or worldwide outbreaks of other respiratory illnesses”. These official quotes have to be read alongside reliable Dos & Don’ts in self-protection that has been repeatedly conveyed to us as public.

- a) Follow rules of Social Distancing

- b) Proper Respiratory Hygiene

- c) Proper Hand Hygiene

Experts say that masks might give a casual wearer, like you and me, a false sense of security. Club this with a heightened propensity to touch your face to straighten the uncomfortable mask and perhaps repeatedly smothering it with infection. The same is to be said with gloves. Just watch someone go about with gloves, they touch everywhere and become vehicles of infection. Do we always remember to sanitize before we touch across surfaces?

Of course we need an appropriate mask if we are sick and do not want to infect others with our droplets, a primary care giver to a sick person or are someone under extreme risk for contracting the disease. A mask also protects us from being sneezed upon by someone in a lift, a shopping aisle, you say. True, but that is where the rules of social distancing come. Once, that is done right, even a cloth mask or scarf will work if you remember the rules of Hand Hygiene and proper disinfection after use.

Remember, supplies are short and if the front line workers fall, we are on our own into doomsday march.

Let us spread the right information and help to those who don’t have the privilege…

Our building caretaker rang our doorbell on the second day of lock down. He came to request me to remove the two potted plants I’d kept outside our front door because the Municipality officials who came for checks said so. He had worn a dirty scarf over his nose and it kept slipping off and on several times during the 2 minutes he stood there. He wore because the officials who came casually warned him about precautions. He knew no hand hygiene, no sanitizer, and no 20 second hand washing technique. Your building caretaker in your apartment block, the lift operator, the car cleaner, your domestic help…there are many round you who may not always be able to understand vital information and even when they do, have the spare currency to buy that extra bottle of sanitizer so easy for you and me. Little things go a long way now.

Let us rely more on the likes of Dr.Tedros and less on the likes of Adagudamada Gurus…

Keep those astrologers, soothsayers and gurus on hold unless it is plain spirituality talk. Let them talk about what they specialize in and let Dr.Tedros talk about his. Follow the right sources for information. And, stop at the appropriate amount of information.

Now, I ask again. Has the pandemic given you an extra ‘humane’ edge or has it taken away more? Remember, this too shall pass, my friend!

A letter to you child, before you sit for those 'board exams'...

2020-02-19T10:38:00.007-08:00

A letter to you child, before you sit for those 'board exams'.I asked myself several times if I should pen this to you before I decided I should. Hope you spare a moment to read...

Ten years down the line, no one is going to remember your 'score'.
It is important, I wont tell you otherwise. But, those numbers are not going to 'irrefutably' determine the course of who you finally evolve into. Remember, it is diversity that makes the Earth beautiful - we need the grass as much as we need the tall oaks. Else, Earth & its sentient beings would've been assembly line products, not part of an amazing evolutionary process! Don't let anyone convince you otherwise.

Give it your best and leave it at that is a great maxim to live by. You may have parents who understand that or you may have parents who pressurize, never mind. Ultimately, it is you who has been given the responsibility...the honour of taking care of 'You' - this unique combination of strengths and weaknesses.

Do not allow scathing remarks by the significant adults in your life undermine you. Of course, if you are not giving it your best, not using your strengths, then you definitely need some speaking to! But, if you are, then never mind the rest.

It is perfectly alright to feel overwhelmed at times. The best among us experiences it too. For, who ever promised life will be a boring straight line?

It is perfectly okay to feel sad at times. But, deliberately counter it with a beautiful moment or memory. It can be simple, just go and hug your equally tensed parent/significant adult (even if they are grouchy) or look up at the skies or go out and treat yourself to an ice cream, or just close your eyes- breathe deep-pat yourself and whisper, 'I'm there for you, no worries' ...just do something to let the 'moment' pass, be it anything! And, if you can't beat those blues by yourself, reach out to someone who will listen. If you need help, do not hesitate, ask! Tell your significant adult that your 'sadness' threatens to overwhelm and you need help. When faced with bare facts, people do help. I repeat, do not hesitate.

You might be the straight 'A+' scorer or you might score other grades, but whatever it is decide that you will be there for all your peers. Decide that apart from your significant adults and the higher education forms you fill, no one 'needs' to hear your percentile. If they don't know, they cant compare. Remember, in life very few people question because they really care. Plus, do you know what your parent/your head teacher scored in 1961 , who scored more and who scored less? Does it matter now?

Life gives you choices and chances, don't be convinced otherwise. Remember, it is perseverance that paid off in the 'Hare & Tortoise' race.

All the very best to you, my dear.

Together we stand...

2018-10-16T01:05:00.002-07:00

Monsoons in Kerala are not always romantic. Not to a 17-year-old who is trekking that lonely stretch to reach the bus station. It is a 2-5 pm first year of college examination day and at 5.15, it is almost dark. There is a figure who keeps step with her and is incessantly mouthing obscenities. She hides the tremble from her voice and tells him off. It does not deter him. She runs the last lap, the blood pounding in her chest. It is Circa 1993.

A group of carefree friends happily trade stories as they saunter. A hand comes up stealthily from behind and paws her to hurt, terribly. The pain is sudden and excruciating that she screams. Heads poke out of the windows of a nearly full bus that passes by. A few male faces break out in a grin when they realize what must have happened. Filled with rage the group of friends chase the owner of the offending hand as he runs into a printing press in the vicinity. The girl angrily storms inside and demands they let him out. Voices deny and suddenly the guy rushes out on a bicycle through the back door and as she helplessly watches, vanishes...Circa 1996

First job with one of the biggest newspaper names in the country. She is only 22. And, for the first time alone in a big city. Her boss promises to put her on par with the rest of the team, if she performs. She puts heart and soul into her niche. He is a senior stringer reputed to bargain for favours in return for stories. And, this is where she unknowingly hurts him in her zest for work. Repercussions begins as subtle comments made in soft tones - sleazy hints that it is her femininity that was landing her stories. She is shocked but ignores. Then come the carefully manipulated manoeuvres at the least expected moments, those as if by accident, brushes against the body. This time she tells him off. He flings out his hands in 'helpless' innocence. She complains to her immediate superior, he looks taken aback. Does nothing. She thinks her time has come when she catches him red handed snitching a press invite in her name. She goes to the topmost guy in office with a complaint. The guy blatantly denies all. Absolutely nothing happens. It is a junior reporter who might leave for greener pastures Vs this old sod who has been here forever. Who gets priority is a no brainer! Circa 1998.

She has just gone into the washroom to freshen up. Some instinct makes her look up and she sees the tips of two hands gripping the air vent from the opposite side, as if to pull up. Shocked she yells, "who is that?". A sudden thud and feet that run away as she comes out as quickly as possible. She walks into the HR department armed with a complaint. She is confident of corrective action since the human resource manager is a woman too. Next day, a cardboard piece clumsily stuffed into the air vent is the 'stringent' action taken. Circa 2000

She works at the Chennai office. Her work entitles frequent email and telephonic co-ordination with a senior reporter in the Mumbai head office. Always soft spoken, helpful and polite, he builds up trust over two years. She resigns and joins elsewhere in due course.Then by chance, they meet in person while he is on a visit to the town. He returns and then the tone of his emails change. It comes as utter, complete shock and she severs contact, completely. Circa 2001

It is a busy day at work. Office is now a 15 minutes walk from where she stays, via a short cut. It is 8 pm and the lane is empty that night. She is not afraid since it is a familiar route. The orphanage she frequents during weekends to read stories to kids is just round the corner. A 'bullet' passes her with its huge chug chug noise. Lulled by the familiarity of the daily path and her thoughts she pays no heed when the bike reaches the end of the road and veers back. As it reaches her, the headlights dim and a hand suddenly explodes forward to whack her across the chest. She almost falls. The bike speeds away. Shock and pain give way to anger and then to fear. She suddenly remembers how the small children from the orphanage sometimes run out to play or on small errands. She imagines them in her place against the man on the bike. She dares her way to the nearest police station. The era of citizen friendly policing is still not on and there isn't a single woman in uniform or otherwise at the station. She lodges a complaint. It is nearly 9pm. For two evenings thence, the green, anti eve teasing squad jeep remains parked near the lane. Then it disappears. A month later, she hears the same chug chug...Circa 2002

Her nineteen year old domestic help is almost in tears. The girl is the sole bread-winner in her family of three. Her single mother suffers depressive episodes and her brother is too young. In between tears, the girl reveals how someone from where she worked as domestic help before, is constantly tormenting her over the phone.She answers the call this time and from courage that stems out of anger says, "If you call once more or do anything at all to this child, I will be at your doorstep with the cops. I promise you that. I dare you to try it just once more". To this day, she does not know how it worked but maybe it was the tone, the filmy style...but, the guy never called her again. Circa 2007.

Years have passed. The stories stay. There are many more. Some said, many left unsaid. Some acted upon, many left as is, in sheer helplessness.These stories are mine. I relive them, again, because today I had to tell off yet another person who bombarded me with derogatory messages about the women who share their #metoo stories.

Of late it is less anger and more a feeling of let down when yet another 'evolved/educated' soul mouths privilege talk. Not everyone with #metoo stories have kept quiet. Some of us have complained ourselves hoarse, several times, to no avail. Do you know what courage it takes for a vulnerable, young girl to stand up for herself, again and again, and yet not be taken seriously? Do you know the fear that comes when you realize that your unaddressed complaints make your oppressor more brazen? Do you know what gall it takes to stand alone in an alien city with no godfathers?
And, do you even realise that some women, most women, don't even have the choice to just walk away from it all, like you and me.

What makes it so difficult for anyone to understand that 'choice' is a luxury not available to a wide majority. And, if you have it, know that it is a privilege. It is not a pedestal for you to stand up on and gloat.

PS: My better half who reads this account as I finish, suddenly pipes up, "What about those young children. The ones who perhaps are abused by their very own. Do these people say that these little children too had the choice to just walk out of the situation? He is so right!

Respect and peace to every survivor out there #Metoo

Why my Feminism and the Sabarimala ruling mismatch!

2018-09-28T00:52:00.003-07:00

My paternal grandmother was a formidable, Nair matriarch. She ruled her terrain with an iron will. She had 6 boys, my dad being the youngest. One of my earliest childhood memories is of the huge family get togethers we had at her place during Onam and Vishu, the huge sumptuous sadyas (traditional feasts). The pecking order at her place was set - the children first, the menfolk and then the women. As the youngest in the huge brood of cousins, this did not really strike me until once, when somehow a few more of us turned up for lunch and she ordered that the boys be given priority over girls in seating for lunch. I vividly remember 6 - 7 year old me marching upto her and saying, " Ammoomma, unless you seat us kids altogether, I refuse to eat your lunch. The boys are no better than us". She was taken aback for an instant, then smiled. We got to eat together and then on many other occasions she told me, as a compliment, I'm like her. This also meant I got an extra two rupee note as Vishu Kaineettam (cash given as traditional gift to younger ones on Vishu).

I tell you this story to say I'm not anti-feminist. I do not hold onto archaic values just in the name of tradition. People who know me brand me as outspoken and persistent on gender parity. But, I oppose the current Supreme Court order on women entering Sabarimala.

Before you raise those cudgels, let me also tell you, I do not buy those stories of Lord Ayyappa being a brahmachari and hence averse to women. Neither, do I believe that a woman entering the temple will invoke divine wrath and an apocalypse. I will not simplify or downgrade an entity I believe in as part of my faith, into a vengeful, threatening monster.

I oppose this because it is part of a belief system close to my heart. The same as the one that makes me light an oil lamp at sunset, the same as the one that makes me put my palms together as token of repect when I say my prayers, the same as the one that invokes spirituality when I smell the fragrance of camphor, incense sticks and jasmine flowers. I oppose this because I do not in anyway see it as something that either harms my rights as a woman or improves my status as a human.

It definitely is not the same as the caste system that divided humanity into sects and deemed some as untouchables. It does not dehumanise me, it does not marginalise me. It is definitely not the same as the Sati or the dowry system. And, definitely not like the landmark legislation set rolling by the Channar Lahala. It does not empower me.

I oppose this because I see the whole episode as a drama orchestrated by people who understand none of the sentiments/emotions associated with the belief system. If they did, then they would've completed a pilgrimage of Vaishnodevi and all the other temples before they zeroed in on Sabarimala. They would've been aware of the existence of 'Attukaal' and participated in the annual festival that exclusively celebrates womanhood. They would've been aware of the Chengannur Mahadeva temple with its celebrations revolving round the Devi idol that menstruates, visited the Khamakhya devi temple. It is the same as the system that calls upon the Muslim to namaz five times in a day. The same as the one that calls Christian women to become celibates and dedicate their lives in service as nuns. It is part of my belief system.

And, for any worthwhile "social change", as the SC order supposes to be a harbinger of, to hold water, it should be a cause of celebration for atleast a considerable percentile of the population it proposes to save. As I see it, this ruling neither improves my condition as a woman nor does it address the more burning misogynistic attitudes that sideline my existence. It does not make me feel any more safe or empowered at my own hearth, my workplace or in the society I live in. All it does is sideline, shove, cajole the public eye from what really matters!

Of Santas and gifting joys

2018-07-12T05:47:00.000-07:00

When I was small, I had a personal Santa. Well, mine did not come just at X'mas. Neither owned a reindeer sledge nor sported a huge paunch, white beard, and the red gear. And, my Santa was
'she':-D. She was the one who initiated my transfer from picture/comic books to regular books (8 O'clock Tales by Enid Blyton, I remember), got me my very first, own perfume bottle (a roll on Yardley lavendar), introduced me to moisturising lotions other than Pond's Cold Cream - the staple at home, got me my first offbeat, trendy coloured Pattu Pavadai ( a pista green) etc etc. She was also the first woman I admired for her easy and elegant style, that inspired respect not attention. She was also the first person who absolutely refused to give 10 year old, fat me (I was as plump as a cushion and a huge foodie) my 4th dosa and woke me up at dawn to 'learn skipping' and trim down ( I tricked her by going upto the terrace and making big stomping noises instead of skipping). She was also the only adult relative who thought of sitting me down and advising me to 'save' when I got my first job at 22 (Well, I thought I had a long way to go, missed acting on the advice and here I am, still the same).
As an adult, somewhere down the line, I too got the hang of giving surprise gifts to people. Sometimes, just because I thought they needed cheering up but most often, just because it gave me the "Giver's high". Now, I've slowly started tapering down this habit because I began to realise it only gave rise to a sense of entitlement, atleast in some people.
Very recently, just out of the blue it struck me that the one person I've never gifted anything to was my Santa! It also made me realise that in a way, I too had taken it for granted that it was always the Santa's responsibility to gift. But, why!!!
Time relocated my Santa to Canada way back in 2002. We dont meet often these days. But still, when I close my eyes and think of the handful of people who really mean something to me, she features on the list, quite prominently. And, it felt wonderful to return the happiness and send my Santa a gift for her 61st (or is it 62nd) birthday. She just received it and the joy is all mine. Advance Happy Birthday, dearest Uma athai!

On the internet, it must be true. Click fwd and let the world know clever me!

2017-06-07T03:21:00.000-07:00

"Drink 2 glasses of water mixed with 2 tablespoons of white vinegar (acetic acid) and watch that fat melt away miraculously. No exercise, eat what you want." (Aside: If nothing else melts, atleast your stomach lining will).

"Cure is found for XYZ. Contact +1234XXX5678, Dr.Anaivasal in Dindigul district. Spread the word". (Aside: It does not matter if you send a sick, desperate, gullible person on a wild goose chase to nowhere.)

"This week is equinox. Make the Sun your whatsapp profile picture or ultraviolet rays will target your smart phone and burn your ear drum.Share, save a life." (Aside: 2 seconds to rewind back to school and remember what equinox is. But, why bother.)

"Watch video of caste xxx boy being beaten up by caste yyy goon. Watch and share among your friends. Let everyone know the truth." (Aside: err...how did I know it was X vs Y? ...I know, the friend who shared told me. Look carefully, can't you tell by looking at them?)

"See actress XYZ's social gaffe, dupatta slips over head to reveal ear! Share to see full video." (Aside: Woah! treat for the day!)

"This is the dung beetle. Look at this image carefully. You can see how closely he resembles the elephant. In fact, the dung beetle evolved from the mammoth, the ancestor of modern elephant. So, you can refer to it as mini-elephant too. Both same same." (Aside: Likeapedia told me...so now, tada.)

"This is the year of the Kubera.Share this among 10 of your friends and invite Kubera into your home.Become wealthy in 10 days."(Aside: Too bad if you think I'm spamming you. I can't miss out on Luck.)

"Use brown sugar. Now, what is brown sugar? Take white sugar, with big granules, add a teaspoon of jaggery in it. Mix mix mix. This is brown sugar." (Aside: How dare you you contradict my knowledge. I know all about it. My grocerywallah told me.)

...welcome to the age of know alls.

Happiness is in the small things...again :-)

2016-09-21T01:04:00.001-07:00

Searched FB and found the lady who was my very first true motivation to never give up. Thanks to my parents' medical career with a hospital group that flung them to all corners of Kerala (fag end of 70's and the 80's), my schooling was 'nomadic' style. By the time I'd gone half way through my 2nd grade (at a vernacular school that thought Aa for Aana on slate was the height of aspiration), my parents got transferred yet again. This time, they decided I needed something more stable and packed me off to live with my maternal grandparents in Salem (the best decision they ever took and the golden period in my childhood). With a little bit of string pulling (via my mom's old teachers who belonged to the same congregation that ran the school), I got admitted into Cluny Convent, the best in town then. It was all too much for little me to handle. This, apart from the separation throes with my parents. To make matters worse, my peers seemed to be erudite scholars in comparison to me :-D. I knew no English,could speak a little Tamil, and the few Malayalam alphabets that I knew to write, were of no use. But, I tried. With lots of help from my paatti (grandma), her friend and retired teacher Dawson aunty, my class teacher Miss. Sushma and, my ever smiling Tamil teacher,Miss. Hilda. Our principal was a soft spoken yet very assertive nun, Sister Maria Theresa. She seldom raised her voice but something in her made you want to put forth only your best behaviour. As the final exams got over, my mom came down to review my status. She met up with Sister to discuss my progress. She had emotionally prepared me in advance to accept it if the school decided to retain me in Class 2 itself. But she came back elated. She told me what Sister had said. " I have been keenly observing the child. She is one of the most hard working little girls I've ever seen. To detain her at this point would be demotivating her. I've discussed with her class teacher and we feel she should be given a chance. She will be promoted to Class 3". (Remember, this was not the era when the Central Board of education deemed no child is to be failed till Grade 9 and then, leave it God and fortune). I can still remember the pride those words of confidence instilled in me ;-)
PS: I found Sister on FB but have not sent her a friend request. I'm sure she must have forgotten me. My parents took me back to Kerala for High School. The Nomad was again on the run.

Happy 70th Birthday, Appa

2015-05-17T22:20:00.003-07:00

Let me count the smiles and, some more memories pick...

I remember our boxing (rather butting) sessions. Little me rearing back and charging ahead, head lowered and targetted at your tummy...ouch! I did that even into adoloscence, I know I know...

I remember the trips to the cinema so vividly. Amma riding pillion and me standing before you and holding the Vijay Super scooter's handles. I used to concentrate and push at the handles honestly believing that I was helping you ride the scooter.I thought if I eased pressure the vehicle would lose speed and eventually stop :-D

I remember our very own customised water park :-D The well at Ochira. Tiny me squatting with all the eagerness of a puppy waiting for you to draw up those buckets of cool, clear water and sending it cascading down my head!

I dont clearly remember when and who started me on reading but I think I owe that to you (later on,several others helped hone the habit). I do remember clutching eagerly at the copies of 'Muthassi','Poombatta', 'Balarama'and all those vernacular children's literature of yore you bought for me. When at 6, I left to stay with paatti at Salem, the books followed me there too via post.Thank you! I am yet to outgrow the excitement :-)

I remember our solo journey to seek admission in a new high school back in Kerala. Amma was still mourning paatti.You used the opportunity to remind me how we we should take extra care of amma now that both her parents were no more around.In the euphoria of coming back to stay with my own mom and dad I admit I din't quite grasp the seriousness of what you were telling me right then.As an adult, I realise how kind you really were.

I remember the Sarkkara payasams and unniyappams you made for me. Nothing to beat those in taste, yet! I also remember it was you who taught me how to take a swag of Kingfisher or Kalyani...lol!

In a region that vastly expected women, especially wives, to be secondary citizens who were at the beck and call of the men in their lives, you sowed the seeds of self respect in tiny me by the equation you shared with amma. "You are a professional and an independent adult, why do you even ask me whatever it is you wish to do", is something I've overheard from my parent's conversation and picked upto be stored in my own memory box.

I remember a lot more things...but my biggest grouse with you is how you vamooshed away from my life, with no warning, no good bye! Happy 70th Birthday to you, my dearest Appa. Yesterday marked the end of my eighth year without you around.Even now, whenever a major struggle tries to pull me down I wish so hard you were here to say, " Don't worry! Everything will be alright". When physical pain overwhelmes me I think you would've found a remedy if only you were around! I miss you so!

"Happy" Women's Day

2015-03-10T02:20:00.002-07:00

Finally watched the 'banned' documentary, a day ago. Had avoided initially simply because I was worried it would trigger depression once again. The way it did 2 years ago along with a few other incidents including the 5 year old's brutalization( at Delhi again, took place almost simultaneously, was ignored by mainstream media).

A part of me was glad it was banned. Wait! don't bring out the brickbats yet! India losing image or politicians losing face had absolutely nothing to do with my thought. I think we've carried that Ostrich syndrome long enough and more. The bodh gaya incident involving the japanese girl, the swiss cyclist gang rape in Delhi, the Russian woman assault by a rick guy etcetera etcetera ...we lost face a long while ago. The UK government foreign travel site warns its women to exercise caution while travelling to India because of "increasing assaults on women", Thomas reuters placed us at the 4th most dangerous country in the world for women eons ago. bah! what face are we trying to save in the outside world.Banning a documentary is going to do no good, at all. What worried me was the fact that enough and more emphasis was given on the views regarding women held by the rapist and their defence counsel. Counter it or not, those views are shared by en number of male and female dorkheads out there. And, I worried that a few "more" morons would find "extra" endorsement in the statements and decide to act it out too.

Plus, I also felt the documentary tried to score a few brownie points for the perpetrators. Example: interviewing the wife and child of an accused and airing her desperate, " My husband won't do such things. If he is given capital punsihment, how will I live? I will also die and also kill my toddler" (not verbatim) etc etc. Plus those shots on how the pathetic living standards and childhood deprivation could've played a part in grooming their personalities. Arre behanji, rapists in India transcend class, creed, and lifestyles. For us, it is more a patriarchal society's way of asserting superiority on what it deligently believes is an inferior creation. Don't we have oh! so many movies that show how the taming of the shrew hapens when the macho gives her a tight slap...lo behold! she becomes 'exemplary woman'! This, I felt, took the onus away from the men and put it elsewhere.

This being said, I'm glad that a foreign journalist decided to make this documentary and the bbc aired it. Why? That dorkhead of a defence counsel made his statement regarding setting fire to his recalcitrant daughter/sister two years ago. The only difference is that this time it made a lot of us sit up, listen closely, and retaliate. Also saw a newsreport that said the Bar council too 'finally' decided to issue atleast a show cause or face the music notice to these guys. I also hope the freshly raked up furore will instigate our politicians and lawmakers to do something even if it just to save face amidst the western world.

I saw a few comments floating around saying how we were over emphasising this one case of rape while thousands of others get neglected. My take is, if atleast one makes us raise arms against a common cause, makes the ones weilding power sit up, take notice, and try bring about something that would benefit us all, why are you complaining?

PS: It was heartwarming to listen to Jyoti's parents views on the girl child, heart wrenching to see their pain. I bow to their quiet stoicism. RIP Jyoti. I hope we learn to treat our women as living beings capable of physical/emotional pain. Devi, daughter, wife, sister, etc etc jaaye baad main. Living breathing human being, bas woh kaafi hain.

Arachuvitta Sambhar with Sambhar leaves (waterleaf/Talinum fruticosum)

2013-06-16T04:20:00.002-07:00

Sambhar Cheera (Waterleaf/Talinum fruticosum) is found growing with wild abundance in the backyards of my native town. The succulent plant is a nutritional treasure trove - Vit A, Vit C, iron, and calcium.

I've used a variation of the archuvitta sambhar (where fresh coconut and whole spices are light roasted and ground to make sambhar masala) to add the fresh bunch of waterleaves I chanced upon in the market. Having a little girl who is allergic to diary fat I'm constantly looking at different vegetarian sources of calcium to be included into her diet. Traditional cuisine that emphasises on the need to cook from whole and fresh ingredients, I've found, is the best guide.

Sambhar cheera (waterleaf) - a large bunch
Tomatoes - 3-4 meium sized, ripe ones
Small onions (shallots) - 6-8 Nos
Garlic - 6-8 cloves
Ginger - 1/4 inch piece
Green chillies - 2 Nos
Turmeric powder - 1 teaspoon
Sambhar parippu (Toor dhal/yellow pigeon peas) - 1 cup
Water - 2 cups

Rinse out the toor dhal well and pressure cook it with everything except the waterleaves added. About 5 whistles on medium flame is what I do.

For the masala

Fresh, grated coconut - 2 dessertspoons
Fenugreek seeds - 1/4 teaspoon
Pepper corns - a few
Cumin (jeera) - 1/2 teaspoon
Coriander powder - 1 dessertspoon
Asafoetida - a small piece (I use teh block variety). else, substitute with 1/4 teaspoon of powder.

Dry roast everything, except teh coriander powder, till the coconut begins to turn lightly golden, add teh coriander powder and saute till an aroma arises. Switch off flame and grind to very fine paste adding little water.

Rinse and chop the waterleaf bunch. Throw into a thick bottomed pan and add 1/2 a cup of water. Add in teh ground masala and simmer for a couple of minutes. Remove the cooked toor dhal mix from teh pressure cooker and using a ladle blend the dhal and tomatoes well. Add into teh simmering masala. Add more water if the gravy is too thick. Add salt to taste.

For tempering

Warm a pan and add a couple of teaspoons of sesame oil. Add a teaspoon of mustard seeds and allow them to crackle. Add a couple of dry red chillies and curry leaves. When roasted, top teh sambhar with this.

PS: I add additional vegetables to this sambhar, at times. This time I added a couple of carrots. I pressure cooked them along with the lentils.

A tangy slice from childhood

2013-06-03T00:02:00.003-07:00

The once in a year 'exhibition (fair)' that came to Salem town was the annual highlight of my childhood right from age 5 to 11. New age kids living in the current era of fairs and exhibitions almost every month, and theme parks and fun rides at every nook and corner will never be able to comprehend the magic that an almost rustic, annual event held for me.

Giant wheel rides that made the stomach go woo wooh woosh; fluffy and oh! so pink cotton candy right out of the churning machine that seemed almost like magic; dinner plate sized 'appalam' (rice pappad) with a sprinkling of red chilli powder; 50 paisa worth bubble solutions; miniature kitchen sets that were tiny replicas of steel pots, tavas, and pans; little boats that propelled on water fuelled by the oil and wick lamps placed inside; magic shows; and yes, the 'new frock' bought from the one of the stalls at the fair.
Nothing to beat that boundless joy and unadulterated fun those simple days held.

The view from my window

2013-05-22T23:23:00.000-07:00

I woke to warm fingers caressing my face. Someone had opened the blinds and let the early morning rays peek in and onto my face.

The morning, as seen through my bedroom window, was a resplendent medley of colours.The huge Jacaranda tree was abuzz with life. Every branch seemed to be flaunting its profusion of lilac & violet flowers. A cool gentle breeze gently cajoled a few flowers to float down from their high perches. A natural carpet was slowly being woven on the ground below.MAARIE, the milkman was returning home with his bevy of bovine beauties.

Every day, at dawn, Maarie arrives with his herd in tow and milks his cows as his 'clients' - the neighbourhood restaurateurs & chai shop walahs, watch on. “It’s for the benefit of all those new generation non-believers who think I give them diluted milk”, he says in disgust. Maarie belongs to an indeterminate time in history and no one really knew how old he was.

Grandpa has already started his morning round of poojas. He has his private conversations with Aditya, the sun god, every day.I am so glad spring’s here and I am even more pleased that I woke up in time to watch the world in celebration.

Week 14 - A list of my favourite things...

2013-04-08T23:07:00.000-07:00

Some of my most favourite"st" things are associated to smells. My husband accuses me of having an extra sharp olafactory sense, I could be a police dog replacement, or so he says :-D

-The waft from earth after the first showers. So warm, so invigorating, so full of hope.

-The smell of temples.The divine aroma of freshly made sandlewood paste, incense, camphor, gingelly oil, parijatha & jasmine flowers, and sacred ash (bhasma) take me back to my thatha's (grandfather) house at Salem; if I close my eyes and concentrate I can revoke this fragrance that used to fill the home after his early morning pooja session.

-The mild perfume of Pond's cold cream.As a child, the smell of Ponds Cold cream heralded my mom's arrival.To me then, the round, white plastic bottle held the secret to beauty :-)

-The clean, beautiful special fragrance of babies. Just can't get enough of this one. I love holding my little one close and take in a great whiff of this before she grows too big and it all vanishes.This is not to be confused with the trademark Johnson's baby product smells, the yuck smell of babies whose mothers lag in the hygiene department, or the smell of tots smothered in oil and talcum powder. The baby smell is unique to all babies, kept clean and subsist on milk.The smell continues, well into toddlerhood unless the baby belongs to mommies who've already set up beautification regimens of colognes, and perfumes, and fragrance lotions.

- The smell of books. I love rustling the pages of a new book and breathing deep. Bliss! The mustier, older books are ok too. Lesser bliss ;-)

-Freshly ground coffee smells sexy to me though I'm a hardcore tea lover.

- Women's perfumes with undertones of musk :-)

I think my list of favourites are never ending, so let me stop for now :-)

With unseen strings, I stay attached...

2013-03-16T13:32:00.000-07:00

This week our theme is "The very first time..." The key lies in the ellipsis, it could be the tale of our first ever, whatever:-)So, let me tell you the tale of the first ever gang I ever belonged to. We were a gang of nine - 8 girls and 1 boy on the tow, each as different as chalk from cheese. The all brains one, the femme fatale, the joker, the serene as a buddha type, the forever complex stricken, the nymphette, the hot headed one,and the always practical made up the girls team. The lone male was nicknamed 'the comet' by my dad because he tailed us around and also because it was around that time comet shoemaker-levy was creating news.
College in Kerala always implied scores of unprecedented holidays thanks to the gazillion student political parties and their who-knows-what-for strikes. We used these days quite effectively landing as a mob into any one of our homes or going for movies.The practical one lived with her mother in a small one room apartment they'd taken in a women's help organization cum hostel. Her dad worked in the middle east and since mom and daughter were alone they chose this small nest of women comaraderie as home. It worked well for us too since it was just a hop, skip, and jump away from college. So, it was there we landed mostly and aunty (P's mother) was the most cordial of hosts. In fact, P's lunches were so delicious that Buddha and Joker, who sat next to her in class, finished it all up by mid morning. Hot headed got all worked up over this, at times, but I can't recall them ever having a show down over this. The gang did not take hot head seriously, anyway.
Towards the end of the first year of college P and her mom took up a lovely little house even closer to college because her dad was going to retire and come back to live with his family. Initially, I remember feeling a little apprehensive about this sudden intrusion into our freedom but that wore out. I still remember the warmth with which P's dad greeted us when we first met him. With time, I came to love him almost as much as I did P and I could sense he too harboured a special, fatherly affection towards me. We just clicked. That genuine click of affection never happened with any of the others' parents, who were all equally cordial and nice. With time, I realize that God was perhaps priming us for what was to come.
As usual, our gang too had its share of cliques."A" and "D" were bosom buddies but "E" thought "A" was HER best friend, "B" wanted to be best friends with "F" who tried to run away as fast as she could,"G" was quite clueless, "C" was popular most and everyone wanted to be friends with her, while "P" remained the glue that held us all together. Someone was actively trying to woo comet and we had a tough time stifling the urge to slap the stupid female and save our comet since he then was really and truly a helpless, innocent, unworldy little chap.
The road inclined a little steeply from P's house to college. Her gait was as steady and slow as her practical disposition. I remember trying to impatiently pull her hand and make her go faster. She would try but stop in a couple of minutes, smiling and breathing in equal profusion.
Days and months rolled by and after what was the best time of our lives (subjective comment), it was the study holidays before the final exams.University exams in Kerala, in those days, extended over weeks and by the time they got over and the results were declared admissions in most other states, for higher studies, would be closed. It was the begining of April when our class teacher called me up and told me P was sick. He said she had a urinary tract infection but it was not bad.
It was easter week and since the exams were still days away I goaded my parents to take me for movie, a second show. On the way, on impulse I asked my dad if he would take me to P's house since she was sick. We live a good 25 kilometeres from the city (and the college and the theatre) and dad who generally did not accomodate impulsive social visits readily agreed, this time. I was elated that he agreed and really excited that I was going to pay P a 'surprise' visit. But when we got to her place, the door was locked. Someone told us that they had gone to church for Maundy Thursday. But just as I was getting back into the car, I heard P's voice excitedly calling out to me from further below the road, her dad and she were just coming back. I was so so thrilled. She told me she was just fine and I asked her to come along with us to the movie, which she refused. After jabbering away for some more time, I left. P, as usual came out of the gate to wave.
On sunday morning, April the 7th, 1996, Easter day, my class teacher called me again. To tell me, that P had died.
Years have rolled on. I visit P's home each time I go to Kerala. I feel I somehow owe her that especialy since fate made it so that I was the only one from the gang to have met her so close to death. Also, because I see her dad's eyes light up each time I go and her mom stifle a sob each time I hug them both, as fondly as I have hugged her. Uncle died a year ago. The last I met him, he was sick and a muscle debilitating condition had made walking without help, impossible. I lingered around for sometime, jabbering as usual but deciding in my mind that I should convince him and aunty to move into a cared residential facility, just for safety. I hadn't driven two kilometers from their house when I recieved a missed call on my mobile, from uncle. I called back immediately, worried. He simply said, "I wanted to check if I had your new number right". It was an unspoken request to come and see him again before I flew back to Muscat. So, I went back a few days later with Abhi. Uncle desperately held onto my hand and suddenly Abhi broke into violent and uncontrollable crying. I left soon after since she wouldn't stop. I knew I had seen uncle for the last time. I met aunty the last time I went to Kerala, it is much more difficult with uncle not being around. To see a soul in absolute lonliness.
P was the first ever friend I lost, to death.This is the first time ever that I write it down.

Colours...

2013-02-11T22:35:00.002-08:00

Stuff and NONSENSE!

2013-01-29T09:03:00.002-08:00

Cholestrol FREE, indeed :-D Did you know that even the most educated consumers fall for this marketing gimmick. Since when did plants start producing cholestrol?

A pound of flesh...

2013-01-21T04:15:00.000-08:00

"Its a boy, again! How I wish I had a girl. My own doll", she says.

"We want a boy", chorus the newly wed, "Someone to do my last rites and light my path to heaven", adds the "traditional" groom while his coy bride smiles on.

"This year to the girl child", announces the man in power.

" We've tried almost all the best infertility clinics in town. This one is our last resort", sigh the couple.

" How dare the government talk to us about birth control. Let us propogate our kind", exhorts the religious head, all sound and fury.

In between all this cacophony, the little whimper is almost inaudible. Now, it is louder. Now it is feeble. And, now it is gone. Call it the innocent victim of a man's lust or maybe a woman's mirth. Call it a 'could've been happy baby', 'would've grown up soul' or maybe just a to be rotten 'pound of flesh' in the communal dustbin.

Resolutions, yet again?

2013-01-04T12:56:00.002-08:00

This time I decided to keep my resolutions tangible and acheivable. Afterall, where was the point in consistently promising myself the moon and consistently failing, each year every year. So, this time it is doable. And, not just any old doable. These are things that I anyway love to do, in bits and spurts as and when time and convenience permits. Here is the list:

1) Set aside10% of whatever amount is spent on all of our birthdays or any other special day for any one social cause that, we feel,really makes a difference. In my case, child and women issues top the list.

2) Write down a small review/account of every book I read. My absent mindedness makes me forget most names, both that of books and of authors.

3) Stop offering help to people who do not ask for it. By that I dont mean I quit helping someone obviously in dire need and not in a position to actively seek help.

4) I am a chickatarian (dont know if that usage is official, but anyway) and so, I quit eating that for the whole of January. Don't ask me what purpose that serves. Maybe, just checking if my long term plan of shifting gears to complete vegetarianism is achieveable :-D

5) Actually count and write down atleast one incident/person who has been a blessing, each week.

6) Resume Yoga from mid january. Pushed till then since I want to go back to a teacher, atleast for a few sessions, to get back into active practise.

7) Give my little girl undivided attention for set hours. By that I mean, not to let my reading, cooking, cleaning or facebooking interfere with the time I allocate for her.

8) Learn one new skill before the year is out.

There, now it is all out in the public :-D

Of negativisms and opinions...

2012-12-15T12:52:00.000-08:00

Met a lady at the holiday bazaar yesterday. She too had a stall - that of her paintings. Serenity, yoga, peace and calm seemed to be the main motifs she portrayed and I also overheard her talk these over to a stall visitor. The lady, however, was the picture of disconcertedness and seemed to very easily fret. In time, she asked me about my bakes and so more out of reciprocal goodwill I asked her about her paintings and then about her membership with the Arts group (the bazaar was conducted by a women's guild which has several interest/hobby clubs under it). "Oh yes, I'm a member", she said and continued, "... but then, anyone can become a member there. Most of them are housewives who are wanna be painters. Just look at the display and you will see", she piped. I looked around but not being an art connoisseur did not think all were bad. " Ah, I do see they allow wannabe's into the club, because I too am a member", I said :-). Quiet for a second,she felt the need to assert the seriousness of her talent (her pictures were indeed well done) and said, " You see, my pictures are an embodiment of what I'm feeling inside. I don't, like the others, select themes such as Life in Oman, places, etc. I draw from inspiration within". Ah, I see. Later, she bought tickets for the charity raffle that was held and she won a little metal embossed picture. She came back and grumbled, " Ah! I don't like it at all". Later, she bought a little muffin from me and I repeated my refrain of, " please do let me know whether you like it or not". She ate but said nothing. After a while, someone came by my stall and got very excited when he saw my almond cookies ( I, of course, was delighted at such rapture). He said, " My friend bought these and gave me a piece. He wasn't sure which stall he picked it from. So, I came searching for it. This is so good". I was genuinely delighted and thanked him with, " Thank you for letting me know since not many people take teh trouble of giving positive feedback". A few minutes later, teh lady told me, " I liked your cake. It reminded me of the coconut laddoos I used to have in bengal during my childhood". The only good thing i heard her say in the 6 hours we spent as neighbours ( and, i dont mean good things about me).
I know I come out with acrid comments about people and instances that ire me. But then, people who know me also know that I'm equally lavish with praise and compliments too. But this lady and another acquaintance, who seemed to state her opinions as if they were gospel truths, had me thinking...Unless, I get my act straight I will end up like them too. That doesn't mean I intend to turn into a saint. But, I will make it a point to begin the mental extrication process to remove from my mind the people who need'nt to have gotten there in the first place. And, reinforce the belief that I need not feel pushed to attend to every challenge for an arguement. Neither do I have to compromise on my principles nor do have to let them disrupt my peace. Also, I will have to eliminate those people who seem to latch onto me only in times of need and are nowhere in sight when I need a hand in return. Only my child, that too when she is this young, has the right to expect such unconditional, such self centred support from me. No one else. Hope to resume my yoga once the back ache settles. And, this does not mean the end of my 'cryptic cribs' on FB :-D