Summertimes

All pictures courtesy: Corbis

Summer is here...! I have always hated summers but summers as a kid are full of joyful memories...of Final Exams,half day school and coming home early, playing all afternoon and generally enjoying life as another academic year came to a close. Till school closed we stayed in Bangalore and after that it was Kerala till school opened.

The summers I spent in Bangalore remind me of so many things:



Water melons: These would arrive in the Bangalore markets by January. We would buy them only when the weather heated up as eating water melon in the cold is no fun at all. We ate them plain…it was like biting into fragrant snow. My mom made watermelon juice too but nothing like eating watermelon as it is.

Grapes: Summers is the best time to eat grapes! I would keep grapes in the freezer of the fridge and after a time they became sweet cold grape ice!!! Amazingly simple to make fruit ice! I still do that! :)

Lassi: I think I might have broken some kinda record for drinking lassis. Somehow I was never fond of salty lassis. I preferred sweet lassis and I still do. In fact I survived more of liquid diet than solid diet during summer.


Splashing water with the garden hose: A favorite pastime. Most of my friends came home during weekend and holidays, as there is so much place to run around in my house, besides the village and farms close by. After running around and getting heated up, we would take the garden hose or the farm sprinklers and get ourselves thoroughly wet. It was the most fun activity and was usually done without getting caught. And the clothes dried just as easily in the heat.



Lemon Juice: I think my mom must have made gazillion litres of lemon juice during summers. I still love freshly squeezed lime juice and am waiting for the heat to hit us to drink a glass of lemon juice Kerala ishtyle.

Sugar Cane Juice: My mouth is watering already as I write this :p I think I pushed up sales graph of sugarcane juice wallahs a couple of miles higher on the chart. "Typhoid Juice", "Lizard Juice", etc were some terms my Dad used to keep us off sugar cane juice but that was an impossibility as these guys set up stalls every where, making it convenient to lop across the street and have a chilled glass far away from the watchful eyes of our parents. Regular news of kids who were hospitalized due to sugar cane juice and Ice Cream from roadside vendors which were read aloud had absolutely no effect on us.



Cucumber: Summers are synonymous with Cucumbers in Bangalore. And the Cucumber sellers had this wonderful masalas that made this enormously tasty veggie tastier. My favorite was a liquidy coriander chutney that the cart fellow would smear over the cucumber...yummmm.



Swing: Summers remind me of the swing at home. Somehow swinging in the cold Bangalore weather was no fun. But summers time ‘swinging’ was a treat!. As the swing rose higher and higher we felt like we were flying over the flowers and trees. It was an awesome feeling!

Summers and summer holidays were so much fun when we were in school and college. I am making this into a tag as I think we should relive from time to time the fun times we have had.

1. Write 8 things you enjoyed doing during summer/summer holidays.
2. Tag some people with the happy memories! (No need to post pictures!)

So I tag Alexis, Ganja Turtle, Neihal, Jiby, Jeseem, Fleiger, Mathew and Mind Curry to do The Sunshine Tag! :)

Ad-ministering public health

Summer is approaching and the Central Govt. is floating quite few ads on Radio to warn people of the possibility of outbreak of diseases and teach the public the basics of health and hygiene.

Man one: Lala please give me some chole.
Man two: Why lala, salt is less today, didn’t let your sweat drip in the food? (derisive laughter)
Man two: And food is tasteless today, why… did you wash your hands before you cooked today? (derisive laughter)
Man two again: How can this food compare to the good taste of food served in dirty plates? (derisive laughter again)

Till here the ad is scripted very well in Hindi. Then comes this part that drives home the point that our Ministers have their ears to the ground and know what they are talking about.”

'Sushma Swarajish' voice: This is no laughing matter. Insist on your food vendor washing his hands thoroughly before cooking, using clean and purified water for cooking and sterilising the plates for your good health.

This is a public service announcement bought to you by the Government of India.

(loud derisive laughter from silverine!!)

The Red caste system

It was sometime in middle school that I was introduced to Communism via a lesson in Social Studies. As the teacher explained Communism, it’s birth and evolution and then the revolutions, I couldn't help but be impressed with the system. It looked picture prefect and the school text book laid a wonderful picture of Utopian nations like China, Russia and some other communist’s countries. This seemed like such a nice system where everyone had a job and everyone was equal and there was happiness and contentment all around. I could almost feel the contentment oozing out of the text book. So it was with stars in my eyes that I came home that day and as usual regurgitated the whole thing to my Dad. My Dad didn’t say anything as I was too young then to talk of government owning the means of production, principles of supply and demand etc.

Then I heard an observation by my cousin sister who used to fly with ‘Indian Airlines’ in the eighties. This observation opened my eyes in a way no book could. She talked of plane loads of Russians who came in droves to India on holiday in the 80’s. After flying for many years she had by now learnt to classify passengers at first sight. From these commie hordes she clearly discerned three or four types of people, which I later realized was a type of class system followed in communist countries.

The first class, was well educated, spoke good English and would refuse anything served on board. They would insist on French Coffee, Swiss Cheese etc which ‘Indian Airlines’ did not carry. So they preferred to eat nothing on board. They wore the latest fashion from Paris and Milan and they were attired from head to toe in designer clothes. They reeked “wealth”. This type also stayed in 5 star hotels as she would see them checking in when the crew checked into the same hotel.

The second class was the bureaucrats who had uniformed army men escorting them and given preferential treatment etc. They were polite and would take whatever was offered to eat. But the crew was intructed to take care of them as they were ‘Diplomats”. They would be met at the tarmac with cars that would whisk them off.

The third type was a little less high brow. They were polite and spoke a little English and usually checked into two and three star hotels.

The fourth type was a boisterous junglee type. This class formed the largest number among the Russians tourists. They were the laborers of the Communist economy. They were uncouth but friendly and grabbed whatever was on offer for free like sweets, cotton, Saunf etc. They were herded like cattle and stayed in really cheap hotels. They were treated real badly by the accompanying Russian escort and were used to being treated like crap.

From my cousin’s sisters observation I couldn't help but feel that no matter what the system we follow, we cannot escape classification. How much ever we try to create an equal society, we will fail as no man is made equal. There are some of us who are physically fit, while some are mentally superior. Some are good in business while others are good in numbers. When such disparity lies among humans, a system like Communism was bound to fail or flourish only under duress.

In the case presented above it is clearly visible that a sort of caste system is in practise in Communists countries. Besides an unofficial reward system exists to reward the intellect and productivity of outstanding citizens among them. It is a sort of invisible Capitalism. Unbelievable!!

( One of the best posts on this issue is here)

Woe'men's Day!

Happy Women’s Day to all of you gals out there. Today was a day of fun and excitement at the office with flowers for the ladies and a special lunch too. Besides, today was a significant day as most of us remembered to wish each other and sent out mushy ppt's and html mails with roses and pictures of women in various avataars.

After lunch we were as usual on a stroll around the campus when a senior colleague narrated an incident that happened some years ago when she was in college. Her Dad had just retired from a public sector company and the family decided to go back and settle down in their home town, Trivandrum. My colleague enrolled in a college in Trivandrum. One day on the way to college, at a road junction, some guys mouthed some obscenities at her. Enraged, as she had never heard such filth before in Mumbai where she had studied earlier, she confronted the guys and proceeded to give them a ticking off. She was polite in her language. The guys got aggressive when they heard her and demanded and apology for "thinking too much of herself." In their own words, when a girl walks on the road she invites such attention. If she was too particular then she could come to college in a car or sit at home, they said.

Soon the boys gathered a crowd and began heckling her. Someone called the police who came and took and girl and the boys concerned to the station. Soon a whole group of college students from the boy’s college landed up at the station, shouting slogans and asking her to apologize. The Inspector, sensing the situation asked to apologize. He told her that he understood her predicament but this was Kerala and the only way out for her was to apologize. The girl held her ground. Soon her father was called for. The Inspector again pleaded with him to ask his daughter to apologize. Instead of asking his daughter to apologize, the old man walked out of the station and amidst heckling and booing held his hand up in bought them together and apologized for his daughter’s behavior. Emboldened by this move the cops managed to tell the boys to disperse.

A few weeks later the girl and her family moved to Chennai. The public humiliation and the derisive laughter of neighbors was too much. There was much rejoicing in the community for teaching “the mumbai” girl a lesson. Satisfaction all around. They had taught another “westernized girl” to toe the line.

Ironically this happened the day after International Women’s Day. And more ironically this happened in the most literate State in India.

Happy Women's Day to all of you lovely ladies,young and old and not so old. You gals rock!!! :)

The smooth and potholed spiritual road

Warning: Very very long post

Sometime back during a conversation between me and my colleague, it came out that he was a rabid Atheist. And like most Atheists this gentleman too tried to bait me, a believer into an argument about the existence of an entity called, God. This gentleman lets call him SJ, felt that even without following a religion he was a good human being as any other religious person. He really didn’t need to go to Church or bow and scrape his knees on the Church floor to be a good human being. I asked him how he had become in his own words a “reasonably good human” being. He told me that he did what he thought was right, followed his conscience and was reasonably nice to people. I then asked him how he had learnt to judge what was right and wrong. He was a bit taken aback and gave me a reasonably unconvincing answer. I then pointed out to him that it was his God fearing parents who had influenced him the most during his growing up years and it was their beliefs that shaped him to be what he is today. He had imbibed the values of Christianity and after a point like a child who is on walker, discarded the walker and begun to walk alone. I thought he would slap me from the expression on his face.

This post is not about how corrupt religion has become or about the evils perpetrated in the name of religion. This post is about a great way of life called Christianity that now lies in the hands of nincompoops. Today, Christianity is a great learning ground for a child. We grow up learning that God loves the poor and meek. We are told to help the needy and sick and the downtrodden and we learn that it is our duty to help others in distress. Our simple questions are answered eloquently if we are lucky, by people like Sr. Mary.

Then comes adolescence and suddenly there is no one to guide us or answer the complex questions that is aroused in the mind of the young adult by the very teachings of Christianity. The usual clichéd answers by incompetent spiritual leaders and teachers lead to disillusionment and finally for some a fall away from the Church. You cannot teach people to think independently and then bullshit them. And herein lies a vacuum that the Church should seriously look into. The challenge lies in addressing this generation that the Church had nurtured at a young age. There is no one to take on the mantle from the primary and secondary Catechism teachers. Kids are left in a limbo.

Another area the Church has to change in is the attitude of Priest that they are owners of the Church. They preach from the pulpit that “you dear people are the Church, not this building” but advise them on matters regarding the Church and they brush you aside. Recently I attended a more than jam packed Sunday Mass at one of the overflowing Churches in Bangalore. After the mass I asked the Parish priest why he wasn’t increasing the frequency of Sunday Masses like other Churches and his flippant answer was that the faithful should not mind the minor discomforts of a crowded Church. I wanted to do some really unchristian things to him right then.

The Church should be made a community property and not a place where you come as a infrequent visitor on Sundays. When you give the onus of the Church in the hands of a few people, then you have to ensure that these people are squeaky clean or else as representatives of the Church a single wrong move by them can jeopardize the Church itself.

A vast majority of people like me still follow the religion ignoring the nincompoops that our religious leaders are, because we realize that we are what we are to a great extent due to our religion and ironically this religion has also enlightened us to recognize the nincompoops and ignore them.

I now practice my religion on my own volition and not because I am born to Christian parents. Which I think what Christianity is all about. It is not about the word ‘Christian’ in the religion column of a Passport form. Of course I will slap you back if you slap me…I won’t turn the other cheek which is why I am still Silverine and not St Silverine. But I also believe that had I been born a non Christian I would have eventually converted to Christianity at some point in my life.

This post is not about the merits of demerits of Christianity or other religions and so comments on the same are not welcome. This is just a dispassionate look at the state of the Church today.

Thank you Mind Curry for finally prodding me to right about something I wanted to write for a long time with your excellent post.

And apologies if I sound preachy, feel free to throw eggs on the monitor and yes, some green chillies too and ...guess you all know the drill by now :p

An enigma...

Sonia was a slim and extremely beautiful girl. Fiercely independent and a go getter. She finished her Architecture from a leading college in Bangalore. Her parents, both successful doctors live in Kerala. While she was doing her engineering she spent her free weekends at our house as my parents were her local guardians. I was very fond of Sonia and she was my adopted elder sister. It was nice to have a sister and she slept in my room whenever she came over. We spent hours talking into the night. The bond between cousins is much stronger especially if you have stayed in each others house. After a point of time you stop being cousins and become family. I have several cousin sisters and I know the familiarity and trust that we share even though we meet only during vacations.

Pretty soon Sonia’s parents were looking for a groom for her. After a prolonged hunt they zeroed in on a boy from Trichur, a software engineer in a leading firm in the Gulf. I was aghast. I protested to Sonia that she would have no job opportunities in the Gulf. But Sonia was already in love with the photo of the groom. She would look at me dreamily and say that “You wouldn’t understand. When you grow up you will realize the importance of marriage and settling down.” Somehow even at that age, I realized that this was wrong. It felt ridiculous to see this girl who burnt the midnight oil in my house during weekends, completing complicated projects and earning a degree only to throw it all away.

Sonia’s groom was extremely good looking. He was a six footer and looked quite aloof at the Engagement. Sonia looked resplendent; she stood demurely her head bowed like a dutiful about-to-be wife. A faint blush lit her cheeks at the proximity of the strapping man beside her. I felt sick. Something was not right. I kept quite as my mom had pleaded with me to keep my sharp tongue in check for the sake of Sonia.

Sonia got married soon after and left the shores with her husband. Soon she was pregnant. And she had a baby boy. One day a cousin of my mom called up. She sounded absolutely thrilled at the scandal she was delivering. Apparently everything was not hunky dory with Sonia. Her husband beat her up regularly. He was a short tempered guy and a very jealous man. Soon, suspecting her fidelity he made her pregnant again so that she would look ugly and undesirable to other men. I sent frequent mails to her telling her to stop taking the abuse and leave him. But she never replied. I reasoned with her that she had the qualifications and the money to survive on her own, besides two apartments of her own in Kochi. Her mother called up my mom one day telling her rather sharply to rein me in and my ‘modern’ ways. My mom flatly refused as she said she found nothing wrong in my advice to Sonia.

The beatings and abuse continued. As soon as Sonia’s second child was born she was pregnant again. One day she came on Yahoo chat. I had nothing to say to her. What do I talk to a woman who deliberately takes punishments? As she filled me on the news, gushing over her children and their antics, I replied in mono syllables. An “ok” or an “oh”. She soon sensed my mood and enquired why I was being so distant. I told her rather frankly that I found her a loser for staying in an abusive relationship and a hypocrite…for chatting with me as though I didn’t know anything. She quickly said a bye and logged out.

Some time ago we heard that Sonia was back in Kochi to recover from an abortion. She had apparently lost her fourth child due to a merciless beating session. She was sent back to India with the kids to recover from the miscarriage. After her discharge from the hospital she packed her bags to go back to the Gulf. I made a last ditch attempt to stop her. But it failed as her mom would not allow her to take any calls from me. Sonia just left for the Gulf. She has a job now as her husband is unemployed. He has grown fat and is just as aloof as ever.

Is there any sane explanation for such behaviour?

Valentino!

Another Valentine’s Day has come and gone. And like other Valentines Days the day held no particular significance to me as I am single. In my office we were all greeted with a single long stemmed rose on our desks, but part from that there was no sign of the day being Valentine’s Day. By mid morning most of the guys had given me their roses as I am the only girl on the floor and the facilities people bought me a lovely cylindrical glass vase to keep the vases complete with white pebbles. It looked awesome and the flowers are still fresh.

In the evening married or girls with boyfriends sent the usual mails telling us about the gifts that they received. This year both my brothers got together and bought me a Valentine’s Day gift. It was a heart shaped red gift box with a heart shaped glass bowl with some metallic pebbles corresponding to the number of years I have been on this earth. According to my chetan the pebbles represents the number of years that the family has been blessed with my presence. According to my second brother, the pebbles represents the numbers of years of screeches, scratches, hair pulling, tale telling etc etc etc and other tortures that I have put him through… which you all know is absolute and total lies.

I took the gift to office and most girls (the suckers of mushy stuff they are) think that it the THE CUTEST Valentine’s Day gift they have ever seen. And guess what? Poor single moi has been voted to have got the best Valentine’s Day gift. My desk with the heart shaped glass bowl has become a shrine of sorts and I am sure hazaar BF’s and husbands must be cursing my brothers for the “You should have Silverine’s Valentine Day gift, why didn’t you think of something like that? And she is single too!!!”

However the most unique gift that I have ever received was “Valentino”, a handsome Snowman made for me by a friend in -14 degree cold.




Errr he is a lil drunk as the creator of this masterpiece gave him some Vodka to keep him warm :p But isn't he a dish?

The wretchedness of plagiarism...

Off late I stumbled upon not one, but three instances of blatant copying of my posts from my other blog, Poomanam by some bloggers. One was a cookery blog and the guy had sort of reworded this post to make a new post. One of my regular readers and commenter via email bought this to my notice. He also left a comment on the plagiarized post which made the guy pull down the post, post haste.

Recently this post was blatantly lifted in parts without even an acknowledgement for the same. I have had instances of people quoting my posts, but always with a link to the post. However the new and disturbing trend is to lift parts of my posts or reword whole posts to make it look like new posts…

If I am perturbed and disturbed it is not by acts of plagiarism, but by people who read these copied posts but never bought this to my notice. That really hurt. As for the plagiarists I feel nothing but disgust and pity for these people. How long do they think they will lift other peoples work and bask in reflected glory? And for what? Blogging is all about being yourself and being honest. But there seems to be a new breed of bloggers whose only aim is to get comments and webhits by hook or by crook or plagiarism. For some it is Google Ad sense that is the motivating force, for some it is plain egotism.

I have never acknowledged the silent majority of people who read my blog but never comment. Today I want to do that. It is these silent readers who make the bulk of the 600 odd hits I get on the day I post a new post and the 200/300 odd hits I get when I don’t post. Most instances of plagiarism have been bought to my notice by this demography of people. And hold your breath, a good proportion of these are college students from Kerala. And a good majority from this group are from The National Institute of Technology Calicut and strangely, IIT Roorkee and IIT Delhi! Thank you guys and gals, you are the best!!

A special thanks to Sreejith Narayanan, the only person who has written a post inspired from
an article here in My Think Pad and acknowledged the same. Yes, dear folks, a lot of posts from here have “inspired” other bloggers but none have acknowledged the same.

Today was the last straw when I came upon yet another act of plagiarism and hence this post. I am sorry for the wretched tone of this post. But I needed to get this off my system.

The trilogy tag

I lifted this tag from the most promising humor blogger in blogosphere today and the most promising bachelor chef too with his own cook blog written just as humorously (girls…this one is a keeper!!!)

Three things that scare me

1. If someone scares me by saying “boo”
2. Sharp implements
3. Riots

Three people who make me laugh

1. Dave Barry (forever)
2. Betty MacDonald
3. Jay Leno

Three things I love

1. I am repeating Mathews point, i.e Fridays, I love Fridays!
2. Babies ( as long as they belong to somebody else) and dogs
3. Music

Three things I hate

1. People who don’t keep commitments ( like the stupid ^&%$# ad agency)
2. People who beat around the bush, since I come straight to the point.
3. Artificial people

Three things I don't understand

1. Maths :p
2. People who keep grudges forever
3. Meanness

Three things on my desk

1. My laptop,
2. My PC
3. A statue of Mother Mary

Three things I am doing right now

1. Sending a severe ticking off mail to the ad agency people
2. Sending a laudatory mail to the Event Management guys for a job well done
3. Trying hard not to think of the enormous job roll out for the coming six months

Three things I want to do before I die

1. See the World
2. Visit Lourdes and Fatima
3. Sponsor as many poor kids education as I can like my Dad. His four kids are doing engineering now. My two are still in Primary School.

Three things I can do

1. Sponsor another child’s education
2. Use less plastic
3. Use water judiciously

Three things you should listen to

1. The clock :p
2. Silence
3. More experienced people

Three things you should never listen to

1. Workplace gossip
2. Rumours
3. Loud music

Three things I'd like to learn

1. Cordon Bleu cooking
2. Astronomy
3. Ornithology

Three favourite books

I will list some of the books I read in the not so distant past

1. The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy
2. Boogers are my beat- Dave Barry
3. Fountainhead

Three favourite food

…apart from Kerala cusine they are...

1. Chinese
2. Salads
3. Italian and Continental

Three beverages I drink regularly

1. Water
2. Buttermilk
3. Tea

Three TV shows/books I watched/read when I was kid

1. Star Trek-TV Show
2. Robinson Crusoe- Book
3. The Canadian kiddie programs on Star

Three people I like to nag err…tag.


Alexis
Emmanual Joseph
and Mind Curry

…and anyone else who would like to take this up

The invisible hazard

A distant cousin brother, but very dear friend of mine died recently. It wasn’t a road accident or a suicide. The death was due to drowning, but he was dead a long time before he drowned in that lake.

Manoj was one of the sweetest guys I have come across, simple, innocent and simply “nice”. His family is perhaps one of the sweetest collections of people I know. His Dad a leading businessman in Singapore and his mom a simple and a unassuming woman from my moms hometown. Their house is a happy place with none of the trappings of the ultra rich. The parents remained ordinary middle class folks inspite of my Uncles immense success in business. The children, all 8 of them are down to earth simple girls and boys, who perhaps are not even aware that they are rich. They are one of those families who don’t seem to be affected by money.

Manoj the eldest son, was a brilliant student who went on a scholarship to one of those Ivy League schools. He finished top of the batch and was soon selected into one of the leading companies in New York. The first year of work was hectic and the stress immense. Soon the stress affected his brain making him behave irrationally from time to time. The doctors diagnosed the condition as a stress related disorder. Apparently it is not so uncommon in todays high stress working environments. There was no cure though the behaviour could be managed by medication. But Manoj was disabled for life. Though he looked and behaved like a normal human being and recognised all of us and seemed perfectly alright, he was prone to walk off from home and forget his whereabouts. His parents bought him back to Bangalore and he was admitted to an institution run by the Jesuits on the outskirts of Bangalore for such rare cases. One day he walked out of the institution, slipped on the banks of a lake and drowned.

What we learnt during his illness was that the high stress life that we are leading these days can make anyone of us a victim of this eventuality. It may be not so serious as in Manoj’s case, but damage due to a high stress life is insidious and silent. It may end up as something else altogether like forgetfulness, infertility etc and may never be identified as a fallout of stress.

Simply put...man was made to till the soil and reap the harvest and be content with it and not meet tight deadlines and targets. And what is worse, no company will compensate you if you fall victim to job related stress disorder. It is not even recognised as a workplace hazard and till it is recognised as a workplace hazard you and me will live in constant danger of becoming victims.

In the name of God...

My ex colleague R called me a little distressed the other day. She needed a huge amount of money urgently. She had applied for a personal loan which was approved and the bank was to give her the cheque next month. But R needed the money right then. I obliged by chipping in. The money was for a temple renovation work her Dad was undertaking in Kerala. I wondered why her Dad should go through so much expense when they were not well off, but refrained from commenting on the same. R returned the money today. She explained that her Dad had made promises to rebuild the temple and she and her sister had to support the expenditure with their meagre salary or incur the wrath of the devi. She wasn’t too happy about the situation but had accepted the same as any opposition would make her father go into emotional blackmail mode.

Another colleague and her four sisters, all techies would send money every month to their father in Kerala for various poojas and other religious activities that he undertook. They did it reluctantly because if they didn’t, then their father would borrow and creditors would soon come calling these girls for money.

These are not just two instances but among the many I have heard from my mallu colleagues. What is remarkable about these cases are that most of these girls are from “girls only” families and their fathers are usually unemployed, retired, small farmers or in low paid jobs. As soon as the daughters are employed they start flaunting their money and justifying the expense on religious grounds by sponsoring various festivals and poojas at their local temples.

As a non Hindu I really cannot comment on any of this as I do not know much about the religious obligations of Hindus, but from the girls own account these are unnecessary expenditure and they have no choice but to acquiesce till they are married and can hence say “No”!

This post has nothing to do with religion. Such exploitation happens in other avatars in Christian families too. Exploitation of girls happens irrespective of caste creed or religion.

Planet of the dogs!

My little dog Honey is a celebrity in her own right. She is the cynosure of all eyes and I have got to know a lot of people through her. In Church, Supermarket etc I have young couples, girls, old couples etc smiling at me even though I don't know them personally. These are people I meet when I take my doggies for a walk and who stop me on the road so that they can pat Honey.

There is even an unofficial "Honey" fan club in my area with the all the kids living here as members. Honey is a cream colored Lhasa Apso and she looks like any other Lhasa Apso’s, so I have never understood why she gets so much attention from all and sundry.

Anyways, recently my Wi-Fi router konked off and I had to call the Airtel people to replace it. This is the conversation that took between my brother M and the Airtel Engineer as he tried to guide him to our house:

M: Can you see the yellow board on the main road?
Airtel guy: Yes,and I have taken the right from there as you said but landed up at a deadend.
M: Ok, this time come straight down the road till you reach a house with a white gate and…
Airtel guy: Is this the house with the white fluffy dog?
M: Yes!
Airtel: Oh ok, now I know the house!!!

There was a time when she was my pet, now I am her “human” *sigh*
:p

The new kids of the South block

One of the most endearing things I have noticed, since I started working is a universal love for “Malayalam” among my southie colleagues. The moment they come to know I am a Malayalee, there are frequent requests for help with Malayalam words and a concerted effort to talk to me in Malayalam, mostly to learn or improve their Malayalam. And I am not talking of the guys only but gals too. The interest to learn Malayalam is almost universal here in Bangalore, at least in the IT companies and the enthusiasm very infectious.

There is also a respect when people know you are a Malayalee and an indulgent and affectionate acceptance of the Malayalam accent. In fact unlike some time ago, the accent is now a matter of pride for people who have mastered it. And here in this office I have a Tamil colleague, who is an ace in this. He is much admired for the authentic “Malayalam English” Malayalam Tamil” and Malayalam Kannada” that he can speak like a true Malayalee. The Malayalam way of speaking “English” like “zimble” and “olymbics” etc is common lingo and sometimes we have these “manglish” sessions which instead of invoking laughter invokes pride if you get it right!

In my Internal Messenger I won’t be surprised if someone suddenly messages asking for the Malayalam word for something. In fact it is routine. And if it is ‘colourful’ words they are looking for I direct them to my brother because my repertoire in this is area is limited to “patti” (dog) and “nayinde mon” (son of a dog) :p.

There is so much affection and curiosity about Malayalees nowadays. Almost like we are the new kids of the South block. Be it the language, the food, the culture, temples, towns...people just can't get enough. And the trouble people take to learn the language, is so heartwarming. Maybe because it is a difficult language to learn and hence poses a challenge or maybe not, but the interest nevertheless, is heart warming. One senior colleague of mine, a very respected software architect, insists on talking to me in Malayalam so that he can get used to it. And when I am talking to fellow mallus in Malayalam, I have people listening to me keenly as they feel it sounds very nice.

What can I say but I feel so proud. I do not know the origin of this interest in Malayalam and all things Malayalee, but it sure feels good.

It is almost as if people have suddenly woken upto "The Malayalee"

Death

The first time I encountered 'death' was when I was around 10 years old. An old ammachi, one of my favourite grand aunts died of oldage and her funeral was the first one I have ever attended. My parents as a rule never took us for funerals, but this aunt died when we were in Kerala for summer vacations and hence there was no escaping the funeral. This was the first time I saw a dead body too. I knew vaguely that dead people stop breathing...in fact that was my concept of death. I remember watching my grand aunt as she lay in the coffin and feeling a little suffocated because she wasn’t breathing. I wondered how she was managing without breathing. In school we used to have “holding the breath” competitions and I know the discomfort of holding one's breath. But this aunt was lying rather comfortably even though she wasn’t breathing. I just couldn’t believe that she was not breathing. I watched her stomach closely, very sure that she must be taking a sneak breath like we did during the ‘holding the breath’ competitions. But she lay serene. After the burial as the family slowly wound its way back home I felt bad for my aunt because she would have to sleep in the cemetery now, all alone. I wondered if she would get scared in the night.

That night I badgered my mom with questions and my mom struggled to answer me as she wasn’t sure how she would explain death to me. All I got from her rather reluctantly was that the dead body would decompose and become one with the mud and soil. I was satisfied with the answer besides those were days when you thought that only old people died. Then I grew up a little and realised that young people and even kids died. That was when I got a scare. I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want to be put in a coffin and left in the cemetery. I didn't want to lie in a coffin all alone for eternity. I tried to reason that there would be other dead people in the cemetery to keep me company but somehow that wasn’t too reassuring.

I guess my Dad sensed my alarm due to my frequent questions about death and then one day sat me down and told me that when a person dies his soul leaves the body and goes to heaven. He told me that I live in my body and that I will come out of it when I die and go to heaven. And that I wouldn’t be buried when I die but the body that I cast off like the snake skins that I had seen in the parambu around the house in Kerala would be buried. This took an enormous load off my shoulders and a big nagging worry somewhere in the backend of mind was lifted.

Topics like death should be explained clearly to kids or kids come to their own conclusions and worry unnecessarily. The reason for this rant is my cousin brother’s daughter who was heard questioning him the same way I questioned my Mom years ago. My cousin brother struggled to answer and gave some vague reply about going to heaven etc. With his permission I told his little daughter the same thing my Dad told me years ago. She looked visibly relieved. My cousin brother also looked visibly relieved. Obviously his parents hadn’t explained the topic to him too. In the discussions that followed later in the house we concluded that topics like death should not be brushed under the carpet or shielded from kids. It is because of this that death becomes a morbid word for most of us. I think death like birth should be treated as a natural stage for every human. I have made my peace with death and the inevitability of death and don’t worry about it or think about it. But there are many who dread the word. Sad, life is for the living and not worrying about its end.

This beautiful quote illustrates my view of death.

“Death must be so beautiful. To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one's head, and listen to silence. To have no yesterday, and no to-morrow. To forget time, to forgive life, to be at peace."

– Oscar Wilde

Mr Right

I was going through Orkut with my friend when I came across what is perhaps one of the best profiles I have ever seen. I showed it to my colleagues today and work came to a stop in my office. Check it out for yourself. Girls...this Pakistani guy could be your dream man.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Nazeem

NOTICES:"HEY YOU ALL PEOPLE IN THE ORKUT.BOY GALS AND EVERYBODY IN ORKUT.MY WARNING IS THAT PLAESE NOT ADD ME EVERYBODY.I HAVE MANY WORKS
TO DO.EMAIL ME IF YOU WANT ME ADD.BUT EVERY PEOPLE NOT ADD ME TAKE MY PERMISSION.AND ONLY GOOD PEOPLE ADD ME NO BAD."NAZIM SAYS.

hey hi boys girls and evrybody
im a nice guy
i want great frandship frm all boys and girls
i looking for my queen basically
i can be a very good fradship ...because im nice
evryone add me so dat frandship growth..so frands for ever
im smart evryone likes me ...i very open so ppl add me very quick
...they think i very nice
SO GALS wat u waiting for
add me on nazim_XYZ@hotmail.com
anybody need advise on love topics plz tell me i romantic and i know abt love very much so plzzz add me and tell i about your love problems i always ready to help girls only.i love very well to all gals n womens.i make good lov from every1 and friendship also.i play computer very good,play hockey,cricket and sports and all sports n games.AND!!!! i best player of love n friendship from gals n womens so wat u think of I u can scrap me everytime and anytime and talk me anything

His Testimonials:

Akbar: Nazim If u Staaand Against the oxford profeesssooor u may get them heart attack by ur frandship and luviship anglish budy u rocks

tHE mEtaL GoDs™: NAZIM BHAI, IS VERY GUTFUL MANS, HE WORKRINGS HARD FOR WARLD PEACE WITH FRIANDSHIL AND LOVSHIP.
NAZIM BHAI , IS THE NEXT JAMES BOND 007. HAIL NAZIM GODS.....
GOOD LIFE FOR UR CAREER, & THIS WORLD IS A LONELY PLACE, UR ON UR OWN.....


Sardar: Nazim Aka The Friendshipper of Orkut!
Master of all relations!
King of Loveship!
Prince chimp of chicks (literal)

He has the charisma the traits of the Englismen from Voctorian times. He is heir to the worlds largest and most reknowned kingdom ye that of LOVESHIP AND FRENCH KISS- bluff I mean Friend ships!
All make him friend to succeed in all relations!
he is alsio a chaila of all lovers!

Regards,
Sardar


Farukh: this man...hmmm how to define him...he is self explanatory...he is the worlds sexiest man and the most lovely person who will always bring smile on ur face when u see him...i love him so much as my friend...he is heart of indian chicks...as u can see from his profile tat he is interested in both men and women so i keep some distance from him lol.....anyways he is the worlds most wonderful man u will ever come to know...i love u nazimship and may our frandship remain like this forever.... U ROCK CATMAN....


THUPERMAN: Peoples not thinking that nazim is bogusfull like baba bengali from bombay local train. Nazim sayings only truths. You having luvship and fraindship problem than nazim solvification it instantly.


No Photo: Nazim saiding Luvship and friandship, eye dr man reallie likung what nazim man saiding.
Nazim man hass halli daveloped englush linguasticship skulls when he was satudung in class 7, but saadalie his taacher was not happyship with nazim man, failung him mani tames in the sam class. Nazim man never lost hopeship but satill pareached Luvship and friandship, He has also bin afferd UN sectarygenral ship by UN man. Nazim man envoy of luvship and Friandship.


No Photo : Nazim is one hot Kid. He is a babe Magnet. Chicks worship him and bow down to him. He owns one of the biggest Harem of Chicks, this side of the Ganges. His dream is to emulate his hero Hakeem Baba Zai and become the greatest sex guru ever.


No photo: Lovship and Friandship God!
Hunk...stealer of hearts...a phenomenon..
Nazimship never rocks...he always steers steady!

No Photo: Nazim i love your mustache, very nice, i'm jealous of it.

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

What can I say but people were rolling on the floor today in my office. My boss has decided to charge me for the loss of productivity. *sigh*
I guess I will be working here my whole life.

Subscribe to humiliation

There is a nice ad playing in the radio nowadays. It goes like this.

Voice Over (VO): Miss Janice from Goa.

Miss Janice: When I brush my teeth in the morning, my heart goes ‘Dravid’, ‘Dravid’, ‘Dravid’.

When I am having lunch my heart goes ‘Dravid’, ‘Dravid’, ‘Dravid’
And when I am lying in bed, my heart says, 'Goodbye Dravid’, ‘Dravid’, ‘Dravid’ *sobs*

VO: Be prepared to say goodbye to your favorite Cricketers or call your cable operator and ask for Neo TV, the only 24 hour Cricket Channel. Get Neo TV and watch India getting clobbered in Sri Lanka in January, hammered in West Indies in February, bludgeoned in the Afro Asia Cup in March. Hurry call your cable operator now!

(Ok the words in italics are my contributions )

The Y generation

Yesterday, my cousin sister's 8 year old daughter acompanied me to the ATM. She stood watching fascinated as the man before me took out money from the ATM. When it was my turn to use the ATM, I noticed my niece going around and round the ATM with a puzzled look. Finally she looked at me and said "But where is the man who gives you the money?" :)

Kids are the cutest aren't they? She also taught me the worlds shortest Nursery Rhyme on the way back to her house and it is...

Baa baa black sheep have you any wool?
No! F**k Off!

...and I thought it was "three bags full"

...obviously it is not.

Creativity at work

Last week we had our Christmas party at this lovely Lounge Bar. It was a cosy get together of just our department folks. The highlight of the party was imitation of the big bosses and little quirks and eccentricities of the good folks in our team by a bunch of amateur actors in our team. Quite harmless and funny and hysterically funny after the cocktails started doing their stuff.

The most hilarious two was of a guy and the way he talks to clients on his mobile falling off the balcony and getting up without pausing and continuing his persuasive sales talk ( his mobile bills exceeded his Sales figures this year but he still met his target) The second skit was that of a gal and the way she parks her car.

The parking of a car by a gal was quite similar to the forwards you get in emails. Anyways, the 'actors' showed her driving in and nearly knocking a pillar or two of the basement car parking. Then she parks the car only to be told by security that it is wrongly parked. Finally she manages to park the car after several tries.

She then turns the rear view mirror towards herself and combs her hair, checks her makeup, pops an Orbit in her mouth, offer some to others in the basement and then gets down only to realise that her laptop and bag are in the rear seat. So she gets in again and removes the laptop and locks the car again only to realise that she has left her phone on the dashboard of her car. She retrieves this and then goes around checking the doors of the car that has central locking system. After she reaches the Lift she realises that she has left her tiffin carrier in the car and dashes back. By now she is loaded with a laptop, hand bag, Tiffin carrier, Mobile and car keys. She drops these in a steady stream on her way up the lift and to her floor with the security guys picking them up one by one. The last scene showed the security guys with a loaded cart coming to deposit her stuff in her workstation and the gal counting all her stuff carefully and then exclaiming, "but where is my IPod?!!"

I was laughing hysterically till my friend told me that it was me they were mimicking. Then it was not so funny. But a quick round of cocktails made me see the funny side of the performance again.

For our New Year get together, yours truly has something planned....and I have all the big bosses blessings too , heh heh which means quite a lot of skeletons of people are gonna come tumbling out la la la la

Life is good!!!!

:p

A merry Christmas indeed!

It’s a lovely Christmas eve morning if I may put it that a way, here in my village in Kerala. From the time I have landed here, I have been roaming around visiting people, in our neighborhood. It’s a delight to see people’s reaction as you open the gate and walk in. Pure joy, some tears and some emotional outbursts, it’s like walking back into time to childhood. Yesterday I went around the small township, walked into the quaint old shops, wished the elders, took blessings and reveled in their attentions. I prefer to wear a salwar as I do my rounds. The gesture is appreciated. Women landing up at the market in pants are still looked at as outsiders.

I can see several NRI’s shopping. Some of the buxom ladies are wearing tight pants inviting stares. You can see the chasm between the two sets of people. One are quite oblivious of the stares and quite comfortable in their outfits, while the townsfolk are embarrassed at seeing fat women in pants. I am caught in the middle, while I giggle at the jokes doing the rounds in which me, “our” girl is included I empathize with the NRI ladies too because they are acting naturally and not trying to make a statement or something like that. Annam, my maid, who is accompanying me is wonderstruck at the NRI ladies and whispers that she thinks they are going to explode any moment. I tell her that these ladies were wearing what they felt comfortable in and that we had no right to pass judgment! She agrees solemnly trying hard not to laugh.

As a kid I remember, when we drove out back to Bangalore after our vacations, we would stop at this small village market and say bye to all the uncles who ran the shops here. There would be wistful byes and the all too familiar scenes of people standing at bus stops waving goodbye to families heading back out of Kerala. We would be the only ones going to nearby Bangalore.

There is a change in the air now. People seem somehow ‘grown up’. There is a comfort level among people. Unlike yester years, when family members worked far off in the North, nowadays most people have their kith and kin in Bangalore and Chennai. Visits are frequent and thus there is more contentment in homes.

Infosys, IBM, Microsoft, Accenture, GE are common names and being an English grad is not such a sad deal anymore :P People understand what I do, or least have a hazy notion and know that there is more to IT companies than software/hardware engineering. I saw an appachan working in his field wearing an Accenture T Shirt. “magan accenturil annu” he informs proudly.

The area is seeing a huge rise in IIMites. A good sign indeed! Changanassery town hasn’t changed much, though I can see some snazzy Supermarkets and shops. But the white mundu clad men and Ammachis with the ubiquitous umbrella still abound.

Today at church I met the entire village. This is an agrarian community and everyone knows everyone. There is so much joy when people spot you and as is the usual practice, we lingered around till 11 after mass, greeting people asking about "viseshams”. My Dad comes here every month or so, so he is not the centre of attraction…we are :P Thanks to the many airlines that have mushroomed, my Dad can now fly down monthly.

Liberalization, besides providing job opportunities, has bought families closer together. Children drop in more regularly and not only during summer vacations like the olden days. There is less talk of whose car is better and more talk of which car is more fuel efficient. More emphasis on two wheelers than four wheelers. I see a lot of people who want to return and in my area; land is being preserved for such an event. A very heartwarming thought indeed.

There is less talk of getting girls married and more talk of a girl being career minded *whew* :P A welcome change I see in the women folk is the increasing trend to marry late after settling down in a job.

The contentment in the air is almost palpable. Yesterday I went to meet our old parish priest. He presided over my parent’s marriage, our baptisms and First Holy Communions. As I wheeled him around the well manicured lawns and garden around the convent, he filled me in on all the happenings in our village. He is like a social barometer for us. An acutely sensitive person, he has always rightly predicted the mood of the people. He seems to be happy that the young population has more opportunities to come home now. He feels this will infuse new thoughts and ideas into the population here and bring about changes in the mindset. He feels that this is the crucial transfusion of new thoughts that Kerala needs. Sitting and talking to him I feel so far away from Bangalore and more close to my roots. I realized as he talked, how much part of this community I am, wherever I am and whatever I may be at work.

Change is inevitable, this community is also experiencing it, but what I witnessed is a change for the better. Perhaps there are ugly sides to it, I don’t know. But for the common people, there seems to be reason to cheer this Christmas.

(This post was written on 24th December)

To a special person...

This time last year, my family and extended family were busy with a big event in the family and that was my eldest brother’s wedding. I was damn excited about the whole thing with no care in the world. Since my brother is the eldest grandchild in my Dad’s family, it was considered a special occasion with the entire family dividing duties for the wedding. It took a big load off our shoulders.

It was a couple of days before the wedding that the import of the occasion struck me. Here was a guy who doubled up as an elder brother and Dad during my growing years and who was now getting married. It was like as if my parents were getting married to different people and going away. I suddenly felt like an orphan. The realisation hit me like a thunderbolt and I went into a minor depression. I remember writing in a mail to a friend that in a few days I would be losing my brother. I do not know why I wrote that and why I thought that. She replied right back telling me that I would never lose my brother no matter what.

Around this time the realisation that her eldest son is getting married must have hit my mom too because she also went very quite. This was the little boy who helped her raise her other two younger brats because my Dad was in the Gulf then. ( the reasons are here) The boy who had to feed his little sister when he was barely 8 years old and keep an eye on her while his she, my mom battled with the onerous task of keeping my hyperactive second brother from killing himself with all sorts of aimless brainless activities. This was the boy whom her daughter called “achcha” for the first time, which according to family legend is what made my Dad pack up his bag and leave the Gulf for good. (Though he hotly denies this, my Dad did spend the first month after getting back teaching me to call him achcha :p ). And this was the guy whom young moms in the family consulted when my mom was out and they needed help.

Young mom: What is that you used to give your sister when she had a tummy ache
Bro: Bonnisan!
Young mom: And what’s the dosage?
Bro: A teaspoon three times a day and be careful, if your son is anything like my sister then make sure you don’t show him the bottle or it will be smashed to pieces.

While most boys his age played and enjoyed themselves, my chetan had to keep an eye on me as I crawled around the house besides attend to his studies and homework, with a lot of “silverine spit the dog out right now!!!” thrown in. This was the guy who never had a proper childhood due to parenting duties dumped on his lap when he was so small. And this was the guy who loved being a parent to his younger siblings and never grumbled about the responsibilities on his young shoulders.

He was the person my teachers complained to because complaining to my Dad was useless. He would swell with pride when informed that I had pulled someone’s hair or not done my homework. He bought a semblance of order in my life, a discipline that normally should have been put in place by my Dad. He is the guy who kept an eye on my Dad, when I was forbidden to eat Ice Creams for a year due to a throat condition. My Dad somehow managed to get me one though my brother’s strict vigilance did pay off and I completed that year hating him for being so rigid.

And a lot more things besides...

On his wedding day last year (Dec 31st) I was a mess, I was sniffling around the house. My Dad was a little emotional too and my mom was not doing too well either. My second brother was too busy running around and the house was chock full of relatives. By mid morning my friends got a little concerned and I started getting calls from them telling me not to cry and spoil my brother’s big day. This made me cry more. Relations were teasing me saying that I could not barge into my brother’s room anymore and that made me feel worse!!

Throughout the day people like Sunitha and Anish kept calling trying to cheer me up. By evening my brother noticed the plight that mom and me were in and took us aside for a meeting and told us that all that he was doing was going to the Church for some time, getting married and after the Reception would be right back home for our annual New Year get together. When he put it so matter of factly like getting married was no big deal, things just fell in place. On his wedding day instead of glowing like a groom to be, he was back to parenting me and supporting his mother :(
Suddenly the past three days emotional outbursts looked childish and silly. I felt really bad for acting like a kid and spoiling that one special day in my big brother’s life. I got through the Wedding Mass and the Reception without a hitch but a lingering guilt remained and still remains. Like most of my misdemeanours in the past I know my brother will brush this one too aside indulgently, but the incident did make me grow up....fast :P

This is my 100th post here and I want to dedicate this to one of the most important person in my life. Thank you, you are the greatest Cheta.

Wishing you all a very happy and joyous Christmas and prosperous New Year!!

Weekend blues

Yet another Friday approaches. A practise that I have been following from my last company was sending out “Yipee its Friday” mails. Friday morning these mails go out and all the girls respond with their version of happiness, exuberance, ecstasy etc. at the thought of the weekend. The guys look on with tolerant amusement. Most of them can’t understand what the hoo ha is all about.
Last Friday as is the practise I bought my car which means I can hang around in town without worrying about missing the office transport and the whole gang of girls can chill out for some time before heading home, PG digs, Apartments etc. As I left the office, almost skipping on my way out, a guy colleague asked me why we girls were so enthusiastic about Friday. I told him that the thought of doing nothing, or taking care of girly things like pedicure, manicure, a hair cut or washing clothes that needs careful washing etc makes us feel like a woman again. The office sort of desexes you (stop guffawing G and stop grinning Sachin R K). Besides just curling up with a book in your bed is also something to look forward to. We girls rarely get bored. My colleague seemed satisfied with my answer but remarked that most single guys found weekends boring.
I have noticed this myself. Most singles guys in my office find weekends boring though they do welcome the weekend break from work. And this is something that puzzles me. Girls always find something or the other to keep them occupied and rarely talk of being bored. But guys seem to want something more than just reading or lolling around and what is more amazing is that they have all the resources like a bike and the sheer freedom of being born a ‘male’ to do stuff that we girls cannot do.
In my last place of work I was made part of the Activity Committee since I was on grinning terms with everyone in the office and we literally got people off their backs by organising Treks and Weekend Trips to Chikmagalur etc. The activity caught on and now they have it regularly. The activity also bought guys closer and friendships formed as guys with similar interest were introduced to each other. But it took a lot of efforts from my part to do what girls would have done without an Activity Committee. And that is make friends and do things together. Guys seem to live like islands. Which perhaps is the reason they are so lonely after leaving college. They seem to take so long to make friends. I wonder why? Girls on the other hand have no qualms to who their colleagues are. As soon as we join a new company we go around introducing ourselves and soon join the others for lunch, shopping, get together and the whole thing happens so naturally. On the other hand, guys joining newly will be seen sitting alone for lunch or with team mates. Even here in this office, a sustained activity chart from the corporate communications team has helped in bringing the men together. But they exclaim that it was a lot of effort to get guys together.
I wonder why?!

From perfect to imperfect

I was passing by a house in my friend’s neighborhood. Outside a house a father and a mother were beating up a child. I watched in horror as people walked by not even noticing the event. The parents looked very annoyed and I heard them explaining to an old lady who intervened that the child had failed in his exams. It was unbelievable!!! What lesson were they thinking that they were teaching their child through beatings? The value of education or the fear of physical violence!?!

If it is the latter, they have succeeded. But if it is the former then they have failed miserably. So who should get the beatings now???

I have never understood the concept of beating a child. Beating a child would essentially mean a failure on the part of the parent to communicate with the child. This happens when people have children for the sake of having children and hence are not committed to its upbringing. They take care of its physical needs but his emotional needs are never a consideration.

I have observed many young parents within my family and our family friends circle. Parents who don’t have time for the child are the ones who beat kids. It may not be brutal beatings but some form of punishment like pulling the child ears. On the other hand, totally involved parents seem to guide their kids through life without having to use any force or threat of force with the child.

Before I have parents hurling brick and stones on me, let me explain that I am an experienced baby sitter and I have through sheer common sense got kids to listen to me without resorting to the “I will tell your parents if you don’t listen to me” type of threats. Kids are very practical people and I have noticed that a lot of talking and interaction with them is needed. That requires patience and time.

And what is striking is, when you treat a kid like an adult he/she tends to responds to you better than if you were to treat him like a kid. Of course there will be petulance and sometimes they just don’t want to listen, which I think is a child’s right as a child :)

I love kids and love having them around and there is one little one peeping into my monitor right now as I type. When parents talk about how difficult it is to handle kids, I normally keep quite or I get the “wait till you are a parent” lecture. But then I have been a parent a hundred times over with the kids I baby sit and never have I encountered a child who does not respond to me unless he has been handled badly by the adults in his life and hence looks at me like the adults he is used to.
But even in this case, the moment the child sees an adult treating him reasonably inspite of his past experiences with adults, he will respond positively.

I just wish people would realise the damage they inflict on a child's mind when they beat his body.

The mile high humor club

This week I have done been flying like crazy from one city to another. I flew mostly Jet and Indian Airlines, now re christened
“ Indian”. I noticed that the in flight crew of “Indian” had a sense of humor while the in flight crew of the private airlines were polite and distant. Here are a few in flight experiences with “Indian”.

On a flight from Mumbai to Delhi, the pilot was coming around shaking hands with random passengers. A lady totally bowled over and all agog by the dashing pilot asked him the name of the after shave he was wearing. He answered with a smile and a wink in my direction” Old Monk”. The joke went over her head.

(And…no I didn’t wink back :p)

On a flight to Chennai one absolutely drunk passenger kept asking a stewardess for “balm” because he had headache. Fed up she sent a Steward:

Steward (officiously): “ I am sorry sir, due to security reasons we are not allowed to carry ‘bombs’”.
Passenger: Oh!!!

He kept quite for the rest of the flight after that!

And lastly people flying “Indian” too have a keen sense of humor as this passenger displayed.

On a night flight back to Bangalore. I am in the aisle seat and next to me in the middle seat is a guy in his 30’s I think. He asks the Air Hostess for a glass of water. The over worked and over stressed lady brings a glass of water and slams it on his table muttering under her breath “f***k y**” or something like that.

Without batting an eyelid our man turns to her and says earnestly “How I wish you would”

Dunno if this was an original line but no prizes for guessing who giggled hysterically.

I survived

This Week


Monday: 9 hours of meeting
Tuesday: 5 hours of meetings
Wednesday: Four hours of vendor meetings and briefings
Thursday: A total flop show by the Event Managers at the venue, redoing of stall at venue at the nth hour and 10 hours of standing and supervising that
Friday: ...is still young ...

Monday I kick ass

R.I.P Ad Agency and Event Managers


Amen

Legal vultures

Mr DJ an elderly small time businessman went to court, because the then Bishop of Bangalore was selling Church land to a powerful land mafia. I am not going to talk about the case here. The case unfolded some startling truth about our lawyers.

When the case was registered, the page in which the entry was made was mysteriously torn off. Therefore summons could not be issued to the land sharks. Then the lawyer fighting for Mr DJ leaked out all the case details and preparation that made the other party have an upper hand in preparing their defense. Finally DJ got monetary aid through a philanthropist and hired a good lawyer and won the case.

A friends Dad was fighting a case against an illegal commercial construction that had come up in his neighborhood. Even in this case, lawyers of both parties got together, exchanged files and prolonged the case for their monetary benefit.

Another neighbor, a retired couple gave their house for rent and moved to their expatriate son’s house. The tenant broke the walls inside the house and made cubicles that she let out as accommodation for working women. Here too, Lawyers of both parties worked together to keep the case going without conclusion.

And there are thousands more such cases. A little bit of enquiry with a friends Dad who is a Supreme Court lawyer revealed some disturbing facts. Unlike the US, here in India laws governing professional conduct of lawyers is practically non existent and what little exists is outdated. It is next to impossible to stop your lawyer from sharing information with the rival lawyer and as a rule lawyers get together and prolong cases. If a lawyer does not appear in court when a case is called, he can get away with an explanation like a traffic jam.

Lawyers getting pulled up for misconduct or malpractice happens but in the rarest of rare cases. And what is disquieting is the fact that there is no debate or discussion in the media or anywhere about this. Nor does the government seem interested in changing the situation. Lawyers are a united lot, and as a result clients fear to complain against them because no lawyer will take his case after that. There is absolutely no way the common man can get his lawyer to discharge his legal duties as per laid down rules as the rules are almost non existent. The lawyer always acts in his interest, never in the client’s interest.

Why are we, the fastest growing economy in the world so slow in changing our outdated laws? A death of a colleague about which I wrote in this post, bought to fore the ridiculous traffic laws we have. Rules are regulations governing lawyers is the urgent need of the hour and a step towards speeding up trials and clearing back logs.

As William E. Gladstone rightly said: “Justice Delayed is Justice Denied”

But is anybody listening?

A fine actress and a finer woman

A comment left by Mathew in the last post "What ails us" bought back a flood of memories. Memories of a fine actress called Sukumari,who made us laugh, cry and think with her innumerable memorable movies.

I noticed Sukumari for the first time in Boeing Boeing. She was absolutely wonderful as the Anglo Indian cook. Her “I don’t care a damn’ attitude was a treat to watch and this movie owes a lot to her presence I think.

I don’t know if she set a precedent of sort by boldly showing the different facets of the Malayalee woman, as I do not know much about the chronology of her career but she broke the monotony of character portrayal of women in Malayalam cinema. The 'characters' she portrayed were bold, self confident and assertive. The nose in the air society lady, or the bitchy neighbor or the bossy Colony President…and even as the sensible lady of the house. She was like a breath of fresh air. And she got a generation of NRK kids like us hooked to Malayalam cinema. At least in my family it did. There was a revival of interest in Malayalam cinema with the arrival of some good comedies starring her. She also evoked a lot of fan following among the women. Ladies connected with her ‘characters’ as they were easily identifiable people from daily life. She is so comfortable in front of the camera and lives and breathes the ‘character’ she portrays.

Her very presence is warm and she gives you that feel good homely feeling when you see her. Even in her interviews she comes across as a down to earth simple Malayali lady. Surely a person you can look up to especially today, when there is such a dearth of role models. And this where Sukumari has come up trumps. She has universal appeal.

During the good old days of VCDs, we used to sit down as a family and watch Malayalam movies. And no prizes for guessing whose movies were top favorite. Those were days of some good movies. There were other actors and actresses too who were very good, but Sukumari ruled the roost in my house as far as us kids were concerned.

If there were to be “Malayalee’ of the year award my vote would go to Sukumari and I will even indulge in some fowl play to make sure she gets it :p She deserves it.

She is the quintessential Malayali lady!

A love letter

A note to certain readers and commenters of Think Pad:

< begin angelic smile >

If you do not like the posts here, kindly leave without littering. And if you must comment then please read the post carefully. The posts here though are not worthy of being nominated for the Nobel Prize for Literature or even internalization, requires some amount of intelligence to be understood. My posts are statements, period. They are not open to debate unless so indicated by me.

I admit to the following:

You are a bad writer: Yeah!!!
You are biased: Yeah!!!!
You are catty, bitchy, childish and gossipy: Yeah!!!!
You are *all the bad words you can look up in the Dictionary*: Yeah to that too!!!

Now that we have cleared the air, there is no need for you to repeat this in the comments section.

So….shooo, begone, vamoose, scram etc.!!!

This blog started out as a friend’s circle where we discussed matters of mutual interest. This is a mutual interest group and a lot of people have fun reading or commenting by joining in the discussions here. And the people in my blogrolls plus the people who think I am the greatest [:P] constitute that circle. If you do not figure in that Blog Roll or friends circle, then please consider yourself a guest here and conduct yourself accordingly. I welcome difference of opinion given in “unparliamentary” (read as “Indian Parliament”) language. But please do not tell me what to write and how to write, what I am or not. There are people who do that ( < end of angelic smile > $%#^@&@#&!!) < begin angelic smile again > and when they do, I take note.

I have definite opinions about certain things that I have experienced or observed ( not the staring kind of observation you dirty minded people) and till my Amma’s prayers that ‘ente daivame ee penninnu nalla budhdhi kodukaname!” goes thru the yards of red tapism in Heaven and reaches God after greasing saintly palms ( in which she is an expert) and fructifies, there is less chances of me changing my opinions than a saint sneaking into a bar in hell and remaining sober or a virgin.

Thank you!

Coming soon: A Guide to Reading and Commenting on Blogs.

Sneak preview: Tan tandaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan!!!!!!!!! < input your favorite music if you don’t like mine >

Second Paragraph, third line of the 'A Guide to Reading and Commenting on Blogs' says:

And XYZ said silverine you are the greatest!!!! *applause* Right way to comment!
ABC said: You are a lousy writer! *Triiiiiiin* Wrong way to comment

p.s before I go in to get dandaas from a customer Mr Dattatreya, whose name was mispelt by my team mate to Datta-3, I want to say that I will delete offensive comments from now on. I just changed my blog template at ENORMOUS expense and risk of brain death ( a Biryani meal for my bro and his friends who spent the afternoon drinking beer and cracking dreadful PJ’s while my bro changed the template drinking beer cracking worse PJ’s) and I don’t like to get it dirty.


p.p.s I know this is useless but I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS Yahooooo!!!!!!!!

p.p.p.s I promise there wont be anymore p.s!

p.p.p.p.s but you wont hate me no if there are more will you? *pout*

< end of angelic smile >

p.p.p.p.p.s I am sorry but I have to say this. Inspite of repeated reminders and a post, I am HIGHLY DISSAPPOINTED in all you. Can’t you read English???? I said FIRM RED RIPE TOMATOES, FRESH EGGS, GREEN CHILLIES AND CORIANDER LEAVES if you can spare some!! grrrrrrrrrr

What ails us?

Some time back, I was shopping at the Bangalore Central Mall with my friend. There were a group of Malayalee newly weds too, shopping at the Foodworld. The moment the wives saw us, ie me and my friend, they suddenly went clingy …it looked like they expected us to make a grab of their hubbies and make a dash for it. Ignoring them we continued browsing and then my friend who had gone ahead into the cookware section turned around and shouted out to me that she had found something interesting….but the whole problem was...she spoke in Malayalam. She broke an unwritten rule…”never speak Malayalam with each other in Malls”. You will realize why as I get deeper into the narrative.[:p]

The atmosphere around us suddenly changed…the mallu couples froze for an instant and then with an inward groan I saw the all too familiar change in the couple’s attitude. The “lets show them we are as good or even better than them” attitude that dissects you and then shows you how much they are like you or better.

Espying my Reebok “Cheta, lets go over to the Nike section, I prefer Nike over Reebok”

Seeing my pals hooded jacket “You know, I prefer designer jackets, Ivide designer stores ille? ”
...etc.

My friend realized her mistake of speaking in Malayalam….I gave her a annoyed look and instinctively we started towards the lifts. We knew by experience that the situation would become really ugly and pathetic now as these folks would use every opportunity for empty showing off. And we were right as usual. The gals grabbed the guys and followed us. They get into the lift the loud talk designed for our ears starts again.

“I told Daddy to buy a Chevrolet, but he bought an Esteem tch”
“We are planning on a Skoda”
“So where are you going for vacations? We are planning on Mauritius”

By this time the guys were looking embarrassed especially when they saw that we were ignoring them. But the girls were still hysterically trying to drown their insecurities. We stumbled out of the lift and literally ran out of the mall. I was cursing my friend fluently because there was no way we could go back now without being hounded and i had not completed my shopping.

When we used to go to Kerala for our school vacations, my Dads car would attract the same hysterical reaction. We would have perfect strangers walking upto us, asking about the make of the car and then casually telling us that they were going in for a more expensive model. Sometimes the enquirer would be riding a cycle, but that didn’t matter, no way was he going to give us the satisfaction of basking in the satisfaction of having a certain car. Fed up of this my Dad devised a response “No this not my car, I cant afford one, someone lent this to me so that I can drive my rather large family down to Kerala.”

We kids were even coached not to talk about anything that would excite jealousy...we were not even allowed to take expensive toys with us, because my parents wanted to get back to Bangalore without exciting too much kannu kadi.

The Mall incident I have mentioned happens all the time. And this gives rise to the general impression people have of mallus, which make mallus try hard to show that they are not like the rest of the mallus by pretending they don’t know Malayalam, overdressing etc in a desperate attempt to ‘fit in’ and the vicious cycle continues.

( I have observed that Malayalees are a 'nervous' people. We get agitated very quickly. It must be genetic, I refuse to believe that it is because of social factors. Any opinions? )

We are like this wonly!

A male colleague in my office was very shy of taking photographs. Last week he did take one as he had to get his passport renewed. Since I have often pooh poohed his claims that he was not photogenic, he bought the photo over to me as proof that he looked positively bad in photographs. He was right. He really looked horrible. But this was a defining moment. I could admit that he looked bad and forever condemn him to his beliefs or lie, so that he gets over this phobia. So I told him that he looked perfectly normal, in fact I went a step further and told him that he looked rather cute in the photograph.

In the evening he asks me out for coffee. We have a coffee and pastry lounge in our premises with some of the best coffee selection on the menu, and it is on the house. But folks here often ride down to a Barista or Coffee Day, just to get out of the office. So it is not odd to see a gal going out with a male colleague for coffee as we usually take whoever is free with us.

We drove to Barista in his car and it was there that he dropped the bombshell. He said that he was interested in me and if I had the same feelings for him. I burst out laughing. It felt so funny. His face crumpled, but I just could not stop giggling. With great difficulty I composed myself and asked him if he was joking. His expression told me that he was not. I have faced this situation countless times and have usually got out without hurting egos (I hope) or pride. So I told him that I valued him as a friend but at this point of time I wasn’t thinking of getting into a relationship.

“But I thought you were interested in me!” he blurts out.
“Whatever gave you that idea?” I countered.
“You said I looked cute”
“I meant you looked good in the photograph”
“But you were so earnest!!!”
“Because you didn’t believe me when I said you looked quite normal in the photograph!!!”

This conversation took place on Friday. This conversation takes place a million times with the same results. Most girls I know have reported at least two such incidents in their lives. I have always thought about writing a post on how girls view guys etc but never got round to it. A post by a male blogger on the same thoughts that reaffirmed my observation sort of egged me to write this post. Unfortunately I didn’t bookmark that post.

A word about girls and how we view guys. Most gals regard guys, especially in today’s working environment, like we regard another gal…as a friend or colleague. We rarely look at a guy and say “Oh he is a man!” Guys on the other hand seem to be acutely aware that a gal is a female. Of course there are exceptions, but I am not talking of exceptions here. Over a period of time in the friendship, a girl may notice something in a guy that makes her take a second look at him. This is an instinctive response that perhaps signals the first signs of compatibility between the guy and her. And this how a relationship should be born...according to most of us. We like to take it really slow, because we desperately need the time so that we do not make mistakes. A mistake is twice as costlier for a girl than a guy since girls are so emotional and tend to put in their all into a relationship.

And this is why we girls don’t jump into relationship and get scared when a guy starts showing too much interest in the beginning itself or jumps the gun like my colleague. Haste from a guy is also a sign that he does not have honorable intentions. So guys, if you are serious, take it easy.

It is also in the best interest of the guy (and gal) that they don’t pretend to be what they are not and just be themselves when they are around gals. Perhaps something about you may scare a gal away, but then it is for the best than her realizing it after the two of you have got involved or married. On the other hand by being yourself, you well definitely be spotted by a gal who likes you for your peculiar traits.

And lastly, very few girls are open to a love marriage, so when a girl says “No” please respect that.

(This post is dedicated to a band of sisters of which I am a member and on whose long pending request *with a gun on my head* I wrote this post. I need a trigger to write a post and my colleague did just that :p)

The lost generation

There are two distinct sets of people in the urban Indian society today. The aging pre liberalization generation (PLG) and the young post liberalization generation. The earlier group is also called the ‘lost generation’ since they did not get the opportunities that we have right now. One of the distinct feelings I get when I talk to these people is jealousy, which masks their pain and frustration

Like babies who suck on pacifiers, the PLG comfort themselves with the belief that the IT workers are an exploited, overworked, medical problem beset people. At most gatherings where the PLGs meet, the talk will invariably veer towards the IT people and how rude they are, how they throw their money around and how unhappy they are etc. They seem to badly want to believe this.

Earlier I would hotly defend the IT industry with facts and figures, later I realized that these people did not want to know the facts. They just needed something that would make the bitter fact that they were deprived of such opportunities less hurting. This generation was equally talented like us but had absolutely no opportunities to work with cutting edge technologies or in multi national corporations. All they could hope for was a job in a Nationalized company where they worked in pre-defined roles under managers who were their senior because of age/connection/caste certificate etc. and not because of merit.

The lucky ones escaped abroad, the not so lucky ones resigned themselves to the drudgery of life in pre liberalization India. They lived their lives like machines, working doggedly, saving and scrimping for the day when they would retire. When you look at the fate of these people who were in no way inferior to us, you will empathize with the feeling of bitterness and frustration that this generation feels. Just imagining myself in their shoes horrifies me. I cannot imagine what an English graduate like me would have done in that era. Perhaps become a teacher or a journalist, beyond that there would be no scope for me.

When I see those old black and white Malayalam movies that my Dad is so addicted to, I can see for myself how helpless and desperate were those times. How an entire nation of incredibly talented and energetic people were suppressed by one family. It took the decimation of all members of that family for the nation to be rid of the stranglehold and find its rightful place under the sun.

What a sheer waste of talent and what a horrific example of suppression of the worst kind. It is like being jailed in a small cell for an entire lifetime. Nowadays when I hear the PLG’s dissing the IT industry and calling us 'cyber coolies' etc., I no longer feel annoyed. I just feel sadness…and I thank God for the opportunities that I have.

(Among the PLG is a section that is taking this frustration a level further aided by people whose agenda is take India back to the 'good old days' when poverty and unemployment served their purpose and swelled their ranks. Brijesh has written brilliantly about this here. I sincerely hope that the machinations of these people will not bear fruit.)

Sculpting life...

Your mother’s love destroyed Maria; her hatred towards you made you a stronger and better person. They say it takes a baptism of fire to make sand into glass. Lesson I learnt today: Sometimes we have to count misfortunes among our blessings.

I left this comment on Sarah’s post some day’s back. Pleej don't blame me for turning a lil bit philosophical...I do think sometimes too, like when I have a cavity in the tooth and it hurts too much to talk :p And if you still feel like cursing me after reading this, blame it on the post "Forgive me" by
Mathew which made me post this after trashing it.

The above comment was nothing but the realization, that there was some sense into the ‘nonsense’ we thought we were taught in Catechism classes. Sounds philosophical and all that blah I know, but it is a hard fact and now that I have had the time to chew on it, it makes a lot of sense to me.

How many of us learn a lesson from kindness? Very few I am sure. But when someone is cruel to you, you make sure that you are not cruel to others because you know it hurts. Someone’s cruelty teaches you a lesson. So should you curse God/fate that he forsake you or thank him for this opportunity to learn to be kind to others and in turn become a better human being?

When someone gives you a helping hand you take it without a thought and a murmured “thanks’ as a formality. But when you have experienced loneliness and helplessness, you appreciate friendship and a helping hand more and you reciprocate it when you see a person in a similar predicament.

And the list is endless. We curse God/fate when things don’t go right….but if things were always to go right with us, would we be human at all? I don’t think so. It is adversity that shapes all of us, not good fortune.

Have you noticed that the some of the nicest people are the ones who have gone through so much travail in their lives?

So where does that leave us? We all want comforts, a happy life…but if you haven’t experienced discomfort and sadness, would we even recognize the feeling of comfort and happiness?

There can be a whole lot of arguments against the above….like so many people living in perpetual sadness, hunger, pain etc. with no respite or hope of happiness, enough food and freedom from pain etc…..some people even turn antisocial due poverty, hunger etc. I acknowledge that.

But at present I am only focusing on what I have observed above and the fact that when we are happy, we should also be grateful for the feelings of sadness and despair that enabled us to appreciate happiness.

(p.s when you are throwing eggs and tomatoes at me, pleeeej make sure you throw in a couple of green chillies too, I like my omelet spicy…. and pleej to make sure the eggs are fresh and tomatoes ripe and firm. A little bit of coriander leaves will do just fine too but if you don’t have it I will not hold it against you)

Of rosaries, fireflies and kittens

One of my most vivid memories of childhood is the family rosary that is said at the end of the day in my ancestral house in Kerala. In my Dad’s house, rosary was an informal affair. This is a house of six sons, so it was a miracle that my grandparents got them to say rosary and that too without missing it a single day till today.

On the other hand, in my mom’s house the balance was in favor of girls, as my mom has so many sisters and few brothers. Therefore rosary was a serious affair and my otherwise sweetheart of a grandfather would become a disciplinarian during rosary time. Since we split our stay in these two homes, the contrast in the families was quite evident in many areas…one of them being the family rosary.

Family rosary in Kerala in both homes still reminds me of a house with dimmed lights, the altar ablaze with candles and the entire family sitting in various parts of the house. Some people would sit on the ground in front of the altar, some on the chairs in the living room, some outside and my mom with me on the verandah, as there was no way I would sit still for the 45 minutes of the rosary. Wherever people sat, they joined in, as one harmonious group. However this is where the similarities in both households ended.

My moms mother, was very fond of cats. And every time we went home there would always be a poochakutty (kitten) for me to play with. And during rosary, as though by some devilish design, the kittens would be at their naughtiest best. They would catch imaginary insects with their front paws and do somersaults in the air and other such naughty antics that would make it impossible not to giggle. My grandfather would raise his voice often during the rosary and call out my name in a warning tone and I would recede into my mother's lap for a few seconds. But the devil had other designs, because the kittens would come up with some more hysterically funny tricks and I would be giggling again. And they made sure that they used the altar room floor for their antics!! My cousins in the house, who were trained by my grandfather to sit down quietly during the rosary, would look at me with gleeful delight, because I dared to break the family rule of maintaining pin drop silence during the rosary.

My grandfather would sigh as the rosary proceeded with my giggles in the background. After the rosary he would give his favorite daughter, my mom, the 789th talk on bringing up kids the proper way, and how he had bought up his kids so well and even though she is now married to a guy from Pala (who are no good compared to the genteel people of Changanassery) she should still uphold the family values etc.etc. My eldest brother would sit through the rosary quietly and even lead at times. So the general consensus was that he had taken after my mom’s family. The family would then look at my second brother M and me and say with a twinkle in the eyes that these two had a surfeit of the father's genes in them.

The Pala barbarian, the daughter of the family was married to, would of course be safely ensconced in his home, going through the family rosary at breakneck speed as his Dad was hard of hearing, so that the brothers could open the bottle while the evening was still young. He would have warned his wife in mock seriousness before she set off to her home with his kids, that he wanted us back the same way he had raised us and not changed to wussies, which is what he thought people from my her side of town were. :p My mom countered gamely by saying that a few days of good upbringing at her house, would do a world of good for her kids. :)

During the rosary, there were other distractions too. Thousands of minnaminungu (fireflies) would adorn the darkness around the house like serial lights. Before the rosary we i.e me and my second brother M, would have already kept our Horlicks jars ready for the catch. And we would fill these jars with these tiny glowing worms that we caught. They made such a pretty sight with their flourescent light glowing in the jar. My mom would make us release these before we went in to sleep.

After the rosary, my mom’s brothers would take out the jeep and drive over to my Dad's house, where their drinks awaited. The brothers in laws got along really well. After dinner my maternal grandfather would make a small drink and tell us stories about saints and martyrs. This would be followed by lights out as the family retired for the day.

Rosary, in my Dad’s house on the other hand was preceded by my Dad and his brothers making elaborate arrangements for the drinking and card session that invariably followed it. This would be preceded by my Grandma and aunts preparing the snacks to go with the drinks. With six sons, my grandma was a whiz in making non veg snacks that served as accompaniments with drinks. When everything was set, the family sat down for rosary. Rosary, unlike in my moms house would be uncomplicated and without the long boring prayers and it would be over in half an hour. After which we could go out and play and make noise and run after the fireflies. There was no bedtime curfew and soon people from neighboring estates would join in. The partying will go on late into the night, as most of these men went to school and college together. It is a time of camaraderie, jokes and political discussions. The tradition lives on to this day. Surprisingly there are more priests and nuns in my Dads family than my moms!

In spite of these contrasts I liked living in both houses.


(This post was inspired by this post
by Alexis, which reminded me so much of my home in Kerala)

Saturday pataka!!

Yesterday was the annual St Joseph’s College fest “Equinox 2006”. Quite an enjoyable day at the college grounds. I missed last years fest as I was working that Saturday, so we i.e my friends and me decided to go this year. The last show on the menu was various bands playing their music. The ground was packed. Since it was threatening to rain, we decided to keep to the periphery of the crowd so that we could make a dash for it when it starts pouring.

The band was in full swing and suddenly one of the band members, a chubby guy, got caught up in the heat of the moment and took a swinging dive into the crowd. He must have been inspired by similar stunts by popular bands as seen on TV. Inspite of the ground being packed something strange happened. The crowd parted like Moses parting the sea and the band member fell flat on his face onto the ground.

I just collapsed laughing.

The crowd helped him to his feet and tut tuted at the plight of the poor guy. He limped back bravely to the stage with a strained smile, waving bravely at the crowd. Everyone was commiserating while I could only clutch my aching tummy and laugh. That was Saturday pataka after Friday Dhamaka.

What a weekend!!