Teachers

Today I saw a couple of lovelorn earthworms, wriggling together in the throes of passion near the kitchen. I picked them up with a dustpan and placed them gently in one of the pots to carry on with whatever they were doing. Hope they give me lots of babies for my pots. Earthworms are good for the earth as they aerate the soil. My maid always looks at me oddly when I do things like these.

It was much later that it struck me that what I had done was a direct result of a lesson taken by a science teacher long time ago in school. I guess all of us have gone through the ‘earthworms are farmers friends’ kind of lessons. What is amazing is that these lessons taught to us during our school days impact our lives even today. And Teachers made a big impression on most of us.

I remember being told regularly to brush my teeth in the night, without much effect. But the day teacher started a lesson on dental hygiene I was more regular at brushing my teeth than the clock. And then lessons in Nutrition...and I finally started taking an interest in vegetables. The lesson on intestinal worms and how they are contracted, made me rabidly fanatic about washing my hands. I still do it religiously. Taking baths daily, combing hair, eating right et al…everything was influenced by lessons and teachers than by a million lectures from my Mom. Such is the power that teachers wield.

I was lucky to have some really good teachers in school. Many of them were unmarried spinsters, totally dedicated to their profession. Many are still serving, the last of the genuine teachers left in the city.

Teaching is a Penguin act. Teachers have to understand complex subjects and regurgitate it so that students understand it. Therefore it is imperative that people with the right aptitude and attitude for the profession be selected for the post. Children emulate teachers sub consciously. Good teachers make for good students and I am not talking about the subject knowledge of the teacher but other subtle things, like the way the teacher interacts with students, the respect or dignity with which he/she handless his/her students.

And lessons in matters like respect for girls etc in school, will go a long way in shaping the way young boys look at girls and women in general. Teaching and school curriculum is a huge opportunity for the government to bring in radical social changes, but how many governments are using that opportunity? Not many I am afraid.

Peddling for fools

What is happening with Radio advertising these days? Consider this IDBI ad I heard today.

Voice over (VO): Sir, what number do you like?
Punjabi Accent: No 9
VO: Sir, what number do you like?
Tamil accent: Aiyyo No 9
And more crap…and finally
VO: Everybody likes No 9 because now IDBI gives you loans at 9% interest


Consider another gem:

Woman 1: XYZ bought jewelry from Ddamas for her wedding
Woman 2: Really??? And where are they going for the honeymoon?
Woman 1: Her hubby wants to go to Timbuktoo but XYZ wants to go to D’damas
*Indulgent laughter from the ladies*

And they call it ‘jewelery for the living”??? It’s more like jewelery for the (brain)dead.

Do these ad makers or the marketing team that approves of these ads really think that we the listeners are that dumb? God, this is an insult to my intelligence and makes me mad. In one fell swoop you are condemning all Bangaloreans as morons.

This is the crap that I get to hear in the car everyday to the office. Nowadays we preempt the ad with our own words and giggle our way to work. Quite a change from the sleepy silence that used to hang like a blanket inside the car. In the process we have all become good friends and have forged a common bond as the car pool fraternity.

Now if that was the intention of the ad maker in the first place then he has succeeded. These atrocious jingles, though an absolute personal attack on your intelligence, grab your attention due to its ludicrousness.

But if I am going to apply for a loan in the near future then I will make sure that I give IDBI the skip, because I don’t want their marketing team to think that the ad has bought them revenues and go ahead and make more such brainsick jingles. And neither am I shopping at D’damas, because they have insulted me and the entire female populace of Bangalore.

Musing

"I wan't afraid of being born, then why should I be afraid of death."

This is what I told a friend when she asked me if I was afraid of death. Come to think of it both are the same isn't it? A journey into the unknown. Now that I am here, let me make the best of it. Dunno if I will get to have a blast after death.

Life and times of an Indian kid

Today we had some visitors over. It was a couple with two kids, a boy and a girl. The children were well behaved. My Dad doesn’t like well behaved children. It’s not like he likes brats, but he hates the regimented children who sit like trained circus animals, answering your questions perfectly. Apart from the mandatory wishing of elders he never believed in strictly controlling our every move. He would rather leave us at home than taking us along when my parents went visiting because he knew that sitting down while the adults made polite conversation was torture for us. My Mom didn’t agree, because she thought we should learn to move around in society. But my Dad was in no mood to make us trained animals. That’s his viewpoint and I know many people will disagree to it. But I am thankful that unlike my friends we didn’t have to go through the painful process of ‘visiting’ people. And for all purposes we have turned out alright.

I cannot but help notice the strange relationship of parents and kids because there are a fair number of young parents in my family circle and among my colleagues and neighborhood etc. From my observations of parents and kids I have noticed something.

From the time the child starts walking he is taught to sit down quietly, behave himself viz do things according to the approval of his parents and not give them to much hassle, do home work, sleep early etc. It is a military barracks kind of life style for most kids nowadays. Parents seem to go through the motions of parenting and kids are trained in such a way that they don’t hassle their parents too much. You rarely see parents and kids sitting together for a game of Scrabble or cards, or parents getting involved in their child’s hobbies or interests. In fact these are discouraged or encouraged with an eye to a career in the same field like say music. How many Dads play football or cricket with their children on a weekend? ( Mine did in case you are wondering) How many families talk?

Most Indian parents I notice, are like caretakers of their kids. Children are herded and directed like sheep in a strictly controlled environment of school, homework, TV sleep routine till they get a job. After which the parents, feeling all accomplished take a break from parenting. And in this routine the child’s individuality, hopes, ambitions, desires etc is mercilessly brushed aside and he becomes just another person joining the workforce, earning a living, paying his house EMI marrying, having kids and restarting the parent/kid cycle.

Just another day

Today I read a thought povoking post by Quills at Save Kerala and the subject is related to something I was planning to write for a long time. Then I decided against it because I thought it was futile to write more about something that all of us read about regularly and have even begun to ignore as it one of those subjects like, outdated laws that does not have an immediate remedy.

But after reading Quills article I thought I will write about an ordinary day in the life of an Indian girl…something that most guys in this country don’t know about.

From the time we girls grow up and start looking like women, life becomes hell. Till then life is carefree, at least for most of us. We learn very early in life that ‘Men” are bad. We are warned about ‘Men” and we learn by experience that these warnings had better be taken very seriously. From walking on the road to shopping, is not a routine activity for us as it is for guys. From the time we step out of the house, our life is fraught with danger. We have to bear with men trying to brush against us, or touch us or follow us, making lewd suggestions, cars slowing and keeping pace with us to have a good look etc. We learn to IGNORE these with practiced efficiency from a young age. We learn to steel ourselves and walk by with our eyes away whenever we pass a group of guys. We learn never to walk alone. Which is why you see girls walking in pairs or in groups. The conditioning begins very early.

Our mothers are on tenterhook from the time we are born to the day we get married. They cannot leave us in the house alone and we rarely move around after dark alone. From birth to grey hair we live on high alert. There are so many unwritten rules and regulations that we have to follow to see that we do not become yet another statistic.

One of my memories from college, is keeping books and files or bags in front of us as a shield and walking, to avoid the painful hits on the chest by men coming from the opposite direction. And this happens daily if you are not alert and it is a painful and humiliating experience. And these are decent looking guys, not the illiterates who are better behaved than their ‘educated’ brethren.

I nearly get run over when I walk on the road by Auto fellows, bikers and car ridden men trying to get their thrill by driving as close as possible to me. And this happens “daily”. And this is not because I am a Miss India look-alike, but because I am a girl. We learn to walk on the footpath because on the road we are open game for bikers to brush past. Our reflexes are razor sharp while driving because of bikers who try to scare us by suddenly coming in front of us making us to brake hard or swerve wildly. And this too happens daily.

When I look at the elderly ladies walking on the road I feel so much envy and I long for that day when I too will walk like them without being brushed against, stared and whistled at. And that is not happening for a long time I know.
For the girls working in IT companies, strict laws against sexual harassment keep us safe. For the girls working in other places, life and career progression is very difficult unless they have the dexterity of a Matador to avoid male colleague’s predatorial designs.

And all this happens in a free, democratic country famed for its family values. This happens in a country where a woman is the honor of the family.

And this my dear gentlemen of this country, is just another ordinary day in us girls lives.

For the women of India who make up 50% of the population, democracy does not exist.

The needle in the haystack

I was watching the Guinness Book of World Record yesterday and one of the amazing feats that they showed was the first successful Craniopagus separation of conjoined twins Vilija and Vatalija Tamulevicius. The procedure was carried out by a Russian surgeon who specializes in brain surgery and later, the reconstruction of their skulls was done by an American surgeon. As I was watching this programme I could not help but feel tremendous admiration for these doctors. They are the Robin Hood and Gulliver’s of modern day world. They fight intricate battles that require skill, presence of mind and oodles of experience.

And then it dawned on me suddenly that had these guys been Indians, they would not stand a chance getting a medical seat let alone acquire the level of expertise they have now. Their skills and aptitude for the profession would be ignored. They would have to buy that seat or be a Reserved Caste person or be lucky to clear the entrance exam from among the multitudes. Their talents would be lost to the world because being a doctor is just another job in this country. And because it is just another job, just about everybody wants to be a doctor. And in this melee many people genuinely interested in being doctors and treating people are lost.

This is not a rant about Reservation. If there are people in the reserved category who can make good doctors then more power to them. I for one frankly don’t care whether my doc is high caste or low caste. When it comes to my health I want someone who knows what he is doing and is sincere about helping me. But let’s face it, when I go to a doctor today all I see is an individual who was lucky to get that seat while the doctor regards me as just another consultation fee and if he is business savvy then more money by sending patients to cooperative labs and hospitals for unnecessary medical tests and caesareans. It is an unhealthy vicious cycle.

How many of us will here go to an unknown doctor without enquiring about him or being referred by someone who trusts him? He is an MBBS and is registered under IMA. Then why do we hesitate? Because we are not certain about the doctor and his intentions or his antecedents. Because have heard horror stories of doctors who overcharge or kill or maim their patients. We do not trust a doctor implicitly. Ironic isn’t it that a man who has cleared his exams and is a certified doctor has to pass another test i.e. the trust of the people? If the selection of medical students was fair and based on merit and aptitude then all of us would blindly trust anyone with a Dr. prefixed to his name.


The fact that I am sitting here in good health and typing this post hoodwinking my boss into thinking that I am writing a brochure is because there is a Doctor Mathew who makes sure of that. A man who is perhaps more qualified to be a doctor than most of his brethren because ‘medicine’ is not a mere profession for him and the crowd that throng his clinic is testimony to that fact. His consultation charge was only Rs 10/- till protests by patients like me made him revise it rather apologetically to Rs. 20/- for people who can pay. For the poor he gives free medicine or charges a token fee. The result? He gets a plethora of patients with all kinds of problems that an upmarket physician will never see in his lifetime gaining him experience and expertise far beyond what most doctors will get in their entire lifetimes.

Another doctor nearby, sits swatting flies because he charges Rs 50 for consultation alone because of the word MD after his name. Guess who makes more money? Guess who takes his profession as a calling and who takes it as a mere money spinner?

Ask those doctors joining Call Centers by the drove where they failed. They will give you many reasons but if they were to only act as doctors and not business men by taking a genuine interest in their patients and lowering their consultation fees, maybe, just maybe they could have survived as GP’s. But most of these gentlemen are in a hurry to make money and end up frustrated when that doesn’t happen. Today doctors who have climbed down their high horses and charge lower consultation fees are doing well. Because there are patients out there, enough for every doctor to make a decent living that is if they are willing to be satisfied with a decent living.

But then you cannot blame them entirely can you? He joined this profession because it was a job and not because medicine excited him or the thought of alleviating people’s suffering moved him.

Counting my blessings

“Women have been the bane of my professional life and men of my personal life”
SP

This eloquent sentence was uttered by my friend SP as we sat talking about nothing in particular.

What she meant was that she had hell with women bosses in her professional life and some really mean men in her personal life like her father and husband.

SP always speaks from the heart, as you can see from that quote above and nurtured that habit in me when I, as a rather wet behind the ears trainee copywriter was placed under her charge. SP was my Creative Director and mentor and the most beautiful person at heart I have ever met. Within a month of joining the agency she removed the ‘trainee’ tag and made me a regular Copywriter, even though I would drop into the agency only on Saturdays. She is an amazingly talented lady and now serves in a ‘Communications’ post in an IT company like most ex copywriters. Her exit from the advertising scene is a huge loss for the ad world, a world which is not even aware of it, or if they are aware, they don’t care. We became the best of friends despite the difference in our age. The friendship continues to this day and it is something that I never forget to thank God for.

SP was the force behind ‘Poomanam’. She is the one who pushed me into blogging. She would watch me goofing around in the agency, making caricatures of ads and people in our weekly newsletter and would tell me, “You must blog”. When I asked her why, she would say “A blog is the perfect medium for you. You are spontaneous and do not follow any fixed pattern in anything …you do your own thing and blogging will give you the freedom to write without censure that you crave so much. So for a person like you a blog is the perfect medium.”

In fact she suggested “freespirit’ as a name for my bog, which I ‘characteristically’ turned down. She was not surprised! :p

When I finally made my blog under the name ‘Poomanam’, she said dryly ‘ I don’t think even God could have guessed it!”

She monitors every single post of mine and gives her comments quickly and mercilessly, but with a clause… that I don’t react to criticism or praise. In my profession where writing dry marketing collaterals can sap even the most gifted individual, blogging has recharged me and kept the creative part in me alive. I may not be the best, I may be the worst, but I can proudly say today that I have always written for myself.


I realize that over the years, I have adopted her as my elder sister and like close biological siblings I can trust her blindly. She is Gods compensation for not giving me a sister. I have always admired the bond between my mom and her sisters. They are always there for each other through thick and thin and I realize that I would never have that because I don’t have a sister. The bond between sisters is very unique.

SP is also the only person besides my elder brother who can give me a ticking off when I do something that may not be potentially right. Between the two of them they have managed to give me enough freedom to do what I like, reserving the right to intervene when they think fit. And it is these two people, whose judgment I trust implicitly.

Today I am counting my blessings and SP I am sure you were my sister in my last birth, because I cannot think of plausible explanation for the kind of relationship we have.

Thank you!

Prepared with love

Angel Doc tagged me. I am supposed to list ten dishes that I miss from my moms cooking. However since I live with my parents I will list ten things that is my favorite amongst her preparations.

My Mom is a workaholic. She loves to putter around the house and will be doing something even when she is watching TV …like cleaning garlic, or skinning baby onions or knitting/embroidery. You will never see her idle for one minute. She is the first to get up in the morning and last to sleep in the house. She has enormous amount of energy and spends all that energy into looking after the house and cooking for us. She has an envious collection of Cookery Books many of them sent by one of her sister abroad, besides the Tarla Dalals, Thangam Philips, Karen Anands etc.

I think I get the stubborn streak to master stuff from her. She doesn’t mind walking into restaurant kitchens and asking for recipes and would attend every single cookery course in town when were little kids. And then she would try out what she had learnt at home. You can call her a Jack of all cuisines, master of some :)

However it is her naadan cuisine that I like best, because she makes it the traditional way. She still uses the grinding stone (the maid does the grinding though) and she cooks everything from scratch. This means dry roasting the Coriander Seeds and Chillies etc. and then grinding it to a fine paste on the grinding stone.

So some of the stuff she makes that I love are…

Kerala Egg Curry

This is made with coconut milk and the main flavoring is Aniseeds. I like it with lots of potatoes. As a kid I was a fussy eater with no appetite, but this curry would somehow stimulate an appetite in me :) It still remains my all time favorite with rice. This doubles up as an accompaniment for Appams too.

Payasam

She will sit for hours stirring the third extract of coconut milk, then the second and then the first, the traditional way to make the most delicious prathaman. Whether it is pal payasam or prathaman, she makes it just perfect.




Kuzhalappam

This is another back breaking thing to make if you are doing it the traditional way. Rice is soaked, powdered and roasted and flavored with garlic and coconut and rolled out into discs which are folded into a cylinder and deep fried to make a thin and very crispy savory snack. Yum!!

Fish Curry


The traditional Kerala fish curry with coconut milk and kudampulli. No matter how much I try, it never comes out the way she makes it.





Jackfruit and Tapioca

She makes the most wonderful jackfruit and tapioca preparation which is a main course that you eat with her yummy Fish Curry or Kerala style Beef Curry in coconut milk. *drool*





Vattayappam
Mom uses tender coconut for this melt in the mouth cottony delicacy. And she makes it with both Jaggery and Sugar as my brothers like it with sugar while me and Dad prefer the traditional jaggery sweetening. For Maundy Thursday she makes these vattayappams with a Cross, cut out of the Palm that is distributed on Palm Sunday. Dad cuts the appam after the Maundy Thursday service and it is eaten with the traditional Pesaha Paalu. This denotes the bread and wine that Jesus shared with his disciples. This tradition is enacted in all mallu Catholic homes as a re enactment of the Last Supper.

Christmas Cake
She is an expert in making Xmas cake. I do the honor of making the wine every January so that it is ready by December. The dried fruits for the cake are bought in October and we all help to cut the dried fruits, which is then kept in a plastic container with a bottle of rum poured over. By first week of December it would be ready to be added to the Cake. The cake would be traditionally made in the first week of December, as it crumbles when cut soon after baking. After Christmas Mass, the cake would be cut and then only do we open the Christmas presents. It takes oodles of will power to keep off the cake till then. But then Mom cheated and made a small one for us to have before Christmas day :) This cake stays forever and ever if prepared hygienically. Every bite is sinfully rich loaded with raisins, figs, dates and other goodies soaked in rum.

Tandoori Chicken
I am not very partial to baked goodies so I will bypass the Cakes and Bakes and go into the meatier section of this tag :) My mom marinates the meats for our barbecues and the marinade is the best I have tasted. Her Tandoori Malai chicken is world famous in our house.



Chicken Biryani

My Moms good friend, a Mangalorean Muslim lady taught her to make Biryani. And my Mom makes it really well. It is the typical Bangalore Biryani and not the Hyderabad type where rice and meat is layered and cooked. The Bangalore Biryani has a strong taste of garlic and the ingredients are cooked together. Delicious with Raita.




Appam and Stew

My Mom makes the softest Appams. She makes it the traditional way, i.e with Kallu which is freely available in Bangalore. If the Kallu is not available then she uses Bakers Yeast and never dried yeast. Since we are a big family, Appam making is a collective effort. A four burner stove and four Appam chatis makes sure that no one has to wait. I get mine with an egg on top :)



All this is making me hungry, so let me tag a few people to do this mouthwatering tag before I go in for dinner.

I tag Mind Curry, Ganja Turtle, Aashik, Dhanush, Pophabhi, Jiby and Mathew

You dont have to post pictrures guys, just a mouthwatering description will do. Heck...you just have to describe, we will do the mouthwatering :)) :)

Little somethings about myself :)

I took up this rather interesting Tag from Aashik.

1. How tall are you?

5' 6"
2. Do you own a gun?

Does a water gun count?

3. Rehab? Counseling?

Yes please, I need rehab and counseling for "overwork" :(

4. Have you ever killed an animal?

No

5. Are you Irish?

I can be anything you want me to be baby ;)

6. What do you think of hot dogs?

Yummy with my additional garnishings

7. What's your favorite Christmas song?

O Holy Night

8. What is your favorite smell?

Mangoes and Jackfruit :)

9. What do you prefer to drink in the morning?

Tea

10. Do you do push ups?

Yes... I push myself up from bed every morning :p

11. Have you ever done ecstasy?

The drug: No... but the feeling I have experienced many times ...like when I get my Salary :)

12. Have you been shot?

With a camera... many times

13. Have you ever been hospitalized?

Yeah

14. Do you like pain killers?

Yes, when I am in pain :p

15. What is your secret weapon to lure in your preferred sex?

It won't be a secret if I reveal it would it? ;)

16. Do you own a knife?

Plenty

17. Do you have A.D.D?

If it is Attention Deficit Disorder..then my teachers would say “Yes!!!”

18. Do you love the pain a tattoo brings?

I don’t have one and am not gonna get one. The pain my mom would bring me would be far more excruciating than the pain of the needle brrrr

19. Name Five Drinks You Regularly Drink:

Water. Tea. ,Coffee., Musambi Juice, Milk, Lassi

20. What's In Your CD Player?

Yanni

21. Who is your best friend?

Aiyyo!!! You want me to get lynched?

22. What's Under Your Bed?

My doggies, till I am asleep, then they get on the bed and push me under :(

23. Current Hair?

I am having a bad hair day grrrrrrrrr

24. What are you wearing?

Jeans and Tees, today is Friday yipeeee!!!!

25. Current worry?

I have several deadlines today, Sales Newsletters, Customer Newsletters, Internal Newsletter, Dealer Newsletter... shall I go on? *bawl*

26. Current Love?

My neighbors Labrador puppy

27. Current Hate?

The monsters who blew up the Mumbai trains!!

28. Favorite Place To Be?

Home!

29. Least favorite place to Be?

On the road when it is raining.

30. If You Could Play an Instrument, what would it be?

Violin

31. Favorite Colors?

Blue, Green and anything according to my mood

32. Person From Your Past You Wish You Could be with Right Now?

Sunitha, my best friend and my Grandpa

33. Where Would You Like To Go?

Home, wish I could stay at home today.

34. Where do you want to live?

At home now, later near my parents.

35. Favorite food?

Anything Mom makes, plus Italian, Chinese and Salads

36. Color of most clothes you own?

Black, Browns, Reds etc

37. Number of pillows you sleep with?

Two

38. What do you wear when you go to sleep?

Shorts and Tees in summer and Pajama set other wise.

39. What were you doing 10 years ago?

Bunking classes and having loads of fun!!!

40. What do you think you'll be doing in 10 years?

Probably working full time in my Dad’s business.

41. Are you paranoid?

In certain matters...yes

42. First piercing/tattoo?

At age 8 months I think. Got my ears pierced.

43. Last person you yelled at?

My doggy for rushing in and out of the room, and getting entangled in the computer wires.

44. Latest crush?

Crushed some peppers today :p

45. Last thing you ate?

Breakfast

46. If you could be a pirate, would you?

Oh yes!!!

47. Do you have an Ipod?

Yeah!

49. What's in your pockets right now?

Nothing...pants too tight :p

50. What color are your bedroom walls?

Shell pink

51. Last thing that made you laugh?

A sarcastic remark on Achumama by my Dad

52. Any pets now?

Three dogs

53. Inny or an outty?

Dunno what this means.

54. Do you have any piercing?

Ears

55. If you were a crayon what color would you be?

Pink

56. Have you ever won any awards?

Yes

57. How many TV's do you have in your house?

Four

58. Have you ever sprained/broken/fractured a bone or gotten stitches?

Broke my hand once.

59. If you could live next door to any one person of your choosing, who'd it be?

My relations in Kerala. I want them closer.

60. If you could have any one wish granted, what would it be?

That all terrorists blow themselves up with the explosives they are carrying

61. If you could pick one person to make out with who would it be?

Someone I love

62. What do you think of the person who posted this before you?

He is my blogpal whom I harass from time to time on Google chat :)

63. Your Screen Name?

Silverine

64. What's your middle Name?

Teresa

( anybody who laughs at No. 64 will meet with a gory end I PROMISE grrrr)

:)

Home is where the heart is...

Down the street from where I live, live an old couple. Mr and Mrs George. After retirement they had settled down in Bangalore, as their children were studying here. Uncle is 86 years old. Aunty died last month. They have lived a better part of their retired life alone after their kids migrated to the US. Since there are so many mallu families in my area, they never felt the pinch of not having anyone around them. Then age began to catch up and soon, they were unable to go out and visit friends and relatives or for their evening strolls.

A son came back and arranged for an elderly Anglo Indian lady to look after them. We rarely saw them out as they were mostly confined to the house. On our visits to check on them, they would talk wistfully of Kerala, their childhood and happy times there. Uncle used to regale us so many stories about his childhood, the thrilling adventures that he and his friends embarked on and the naughty childhood pranks. Their ardent wish was to be buried there, next to their parents and siblings. But that was not possible as they had left their village many decades ago. A visit to Kerala was ruled out because they were too frail for the journey. Aunty and Uncle's last wish was always to go back to their village one last time.

Nowadays when I go for my evening walks with the dogs, I can see Uncle hunched in front of the TV or being served dinner. I drop in from time to time with some Pavakkai thoran …uncles favorite and his eyes will light up. He hates the soup, the lady makes. When I say my byes shouting goodnight into his ears, I feel so helpless to see the loneliness in his eyes. When I got back from Kerala last month, he was so excited to hear about the place. I didn’t tell him of the rampant construction and fast vanishing greenery. I told him that the place was the same and his bleary eyes glazed as he imagined the Kerala of his childhood and youth.

For aunt’s funeral, there was a large contingent of relatives from Kerala to bid her final farewell. After the funeral I did what I like most, i.e. walk around the peaceful cemetery. The place is so well kept with so many trees. The atmosphere is peaceful. There is a fair sprinkling of mallu names on the tombstones. People who had left their home and hearth many years ago to find work, respect, dignity and a productive life outside their home state, wistfully hoping to return in their lifetime.

How many such dreams are buried here I wonder.

The spirit of the game...beer!

There is deathly silence in my house today. Quite a contrast to yesterday, when a whole bunch guys landed up here, the two friends circles of both brothers. So, there were the married types (eldest brother's friends) trying to pacify disgruntled wives over their mobiles and the merry bachelors (second brother's friends) making numerous sorties to liquor shops and stacking the fridge with beer. The occasion? The Quarter Final matches that they were going to watch on the giant screen installed in the lawns.

Normally my house is crawling with guys but yesterday there were too many. Two diversely opposite groups who normally avoid each other by having their Friday get together in opposite ends of the house. There were guys looking at the skies and fretting over the cloud formation while there were some who kept opening the fridge from time to time, as though by checking up on the beer would make it chill faster. ( and they call us gals fussy!!!)

The roads were deserted by 8 pm and me and the doggies had the full run of the street for some quality time together. I got back to see Portugal and England battling it out in what seemed a really tough game. What was interesting was the crowd watching the match on the giant screen. Everyone was wearing the colors of the team they were supporting. So both teams had fair support. My Dad and his card group were sitting timidly, a safe distance away for they risked getting crushed by guys jumping up and down and cursing and shouting and spilling beer. The general atmosphere was charged and one could feel the tension in the air. It was interesting to watch the match and the emotions it evoked and the emotions in the wake of the aftermath of the match. The English supporters were dejected while the Portuguese supporters were jubilant and doing some kind of dance to celebrate on the lawn.

The crowd had their food and was ready for the next cliffhanger...Brazil Vs France. By this time I decided to sleep. However sleep was interrupted by sudden shouts and I rushed out from time to time to see that the score was still 0-0. Somewhere in some ungodly hour I was shaken awake by my brother telling me that the match was over. I went out groggily to see one section of the crowd sitting in stunned silence while another was jumping up and down. France had won *Yawn*.

I went back to sleep and got up to an unnatural silence today. Except my mom and the maids everyone is fast asleep. There are bodies everywhere, there is one guy sleeping outside in front of the giant screen bottle still in hand. And there are some on the sofa, while most of them are stretched out on the verandah on the mattresses hired for the day (they thought of everything).

Guess it will be a peaceful Sunday today.

The talking pictures tag

A really sweet tag by Kusum

1.Most desired celebrity




















Tom Selleck
Comment:He is been my crush since teeny bopper days. His screen persona is mature, with a sense of humor and great warmth. A gentleman to the core, what I like most about him is the ability to look gooofy and manly and romantic at the same time. My kind of man ;)

2.Want to do this some day




Backpack through Europe: It might happen next year!
Comment: I want to back pack through Europe..taking in the sights and smells of rural Europe.

3.Want to visit this place



Amazon Rainforests
Comments: World's greatest natural resource - the most powerful and bio-actively diverse natural phenomenon on the planet. It is being destroyed just like other rainforests around the world and I want to see it in this lifetime. Sort of a pilgrimage since I am a Nature worshipper.

4.Random Favorite



Tom the cat with spunk
Comment: I love Tom, he is so much like me..of course without the getting clobbered part. He has so much fun plotting all those things against Jerry and looks so dejected and sooo cute when he doesn’t succeed!. Then he is all smiles again and back to plotting more goofiness. He is determined with a childlike innocence and so engrossed in his aim in life to catch the mouse. And he has a good heart *muah*

5. I was tagged by Kusum
Comment:Post the picture of the place where you were tagged, and if you picked up the tag yourself then the picture of the place you picked it from. ( was unable to do this part)


I tag Alexis, Jiby, Mathew, Venus and Ganja Turtle,Pophabhi
to carry forward this tag.

And Dingo we have a cure!!!

Dingo urine found to repel kangaroos!

"How is dingo urine gathered? Carefully, study says [ :)) ]

Australian researchers say they have discovered a new repellent that can help with everything from rehabilitating old mine sites to reducing the amount of roadkill. It's dingo urine. (click on link above for full story)

This is so obvious isn't it when you think of it? You may even say "drat! why didn't I think of something like that ?"

There is this old Hindi saying that the 'power that made your mouth made the two hands too to help you feed and fend yourself'. So true!

I am sure there is a cure for everything that ails us ( even football ..ok kidding don't lynch me guys :p) on this very Earth. I just hope we discover more such natural solutions for our problems like pests, illnesses and other problems that beset our daily lives.

Imagine if the Dingo had gone extinct...!! A very viable and workable Kangaroo control method would have been lost and the authorities would have to resort to expensive and elaborate deterrences to keep them in check.

I wonder what secrets are there in Nature that needs us to use our common sense to detect and I wonder what we have lost in the fauna and flora that have gone extinct. Maybe a dreaded disease, more deadlier than AIDS will emerge in the future... and it's panacea will be extinct with that tree that we cut down.

Anyways here's wishing people like these Australian Researchers the very best. Hope you find cures faster than we can smite the axe.

Free loaders

My friend who works for a leading PR agency had recently applied for a job with a small IT company that is into Educational Software. This was her attempt to join a regular organisation from the proprietorship environment of PR Agencies. Since she does not have experience in making a Media Plan from a company perspective vis a vis a PR agency perspective she approached me for help. So I sat down with her and made entire years Media Plan to roll out the company's product in a phased manner. This was the company's attempt to make a splash in the media. The Media Plan was a kind of a pre-interview test for her.

The Media Plan was approved instantly and she was called for an interview. She went for the interview, but the interviewer failed to appear as he was apparently busy. This went on two or three times. The HR manager was always evasive anytime she called to enquire. Finally she gave up calling them.

Today she got a shock when her own agency was sent a mail from the IT company asking them for a quote for a Media Plan and roll out that the IT company had apparently "prepared themselves". And guess what? It was the very same plan that I had made.

I just cannot believe this. My friend cannot fight without letting her present employer know; besides she has lost faith in the system, because in jobs like Communication and PR, written tests are the norm. But if your written tests are used to cheat you into giving free work then what do you do?

I am so pissed off!!

State of indifference

When you are going towards Ooty by road, you reach a small village called Gundlupet. On the main road there is a small circular traffic island from where you have roads going in four directions. Take the left turn and you will come across a small thatched café. Just an ordinary dilapidated wayside teashop except for its menu.

Peacock Meat
Rabbit Meat
Deer Meat
Quail Meat
And other miscellaneous small animals from the Bandipur Forest.

The ‘restaurant’ does thriving business and its patrons are local politicians and other big wigs. Long time back on our way to Ooty my Dad developed a headache and needed some coffee. That’s how we landed up at this ‘Café’. The owner is a very friendly and nice man. He became very friendly with my Dad and even offered to parcel some of the ‘forbidden’ delicacies, which my father declined politely. My heart sank when I realized that this was a well established ‘business’ several years old. The suppliers are the tribes that inhabit the forests, the very same tribe that fought off the Taj Hotel venture that was to come up in the area.

Last year in Ooty we met up with the Conservator of Forests for Nilgiri’s and he told us proudly, that they now had 35 tigers in the Tamil Nadu (TN) side of the forests. When we informed him about the café, he said that there was nothing they could do as the café was in Karnataka. The animals were safe in TN but once they crossed to Karnataka they were easy pickings.

The very next month the UN lauded TN for its excellent work in conservation. The moment you enter into TN you can feel the difference. The Mudumalai Sanctuary (the TN name for the same forests) is well kept with check points. You are asked not to carry plastics into the Nilgiri’s. This year I saw less plastics flapping in the wind on the Nilgiri hillsides.

We were also fortunate to be taken on a guided tour of a man made Shola forest. A Shola forest is a ‘Rain Forest”. This means the trees in these forests absorb rain water and release it into the ground via its roots. So there is no wastage, no flow of water carrying top soil and ground water also gets recharged. These trees grow very slow, it takes almost 40 years for one tree to reach a height on 6 feet.

What amazed us was a revelation. The Shola forests in the Nilgiri feed the underground aquifers from which springs the Cauvery many miles away in Coorg. The Shola forests of the Nilgiri’s feed the Cauvery !!

When we went to Coorg last year, what struck us most was the cleanliness of the place. No plastics littering the roads or crowding tourists. The reason…not many hotels in the area. We stayed with our Coorgi friends in their Estate and thus were able to feel the animosity against Karnataka that simmers in the area. The reason? Coorg was an independent State till 1958 (not sure of the date) before it was merged into Karnataka. The discontent is due to the rampant felling of trees by contractors who have ‘friends’ in the corridors of Vidhana Soudha. The Coorgis are a tree loving people and believe in planting 10 trees for every tree that is felled. They also feel out of control of their own motherland. There is not a single college or decent school in the entire area. Coorg contributes a sizable chunk of revenue to the State through it’s coffee produce.

When Karnataka polled 4th in the corruption list, the joke going around was that we had bribed our way to the 4th position while we were actually in the first position.

As you enter Karnataka from Mudumalai there is this board welcoming you to Karnataka. As a kid I asked my Dad, how people could distinguish between Karnataka and Tamil Nadu. He said, “You see the policeman at the border checkpost who is putting the entry fees into his pocket? That’s the beginning of Karnataka."

Thank you!

Yesterday, I missed the car pool as usual [ :) ] and was forced to take an auto from Forum to work. As we were waiting at a traffic light, a guy in a motorcycle came and stopped next to us and asked for directions to a bank. The auto driver said he didn’t know. Since I knew where the bank was I told the biker to turn right after the signal.

The traffic light turned green and to my irritation the auto driver took the left. I told him to turn back and the road was going in the other direction from my office. He didn’t stop, instead he turned around and told me that the guy who had asked for directions was following us right from the time I got into the auto. And the auto driver took the left turn so that he would not follow me till my office.

I was shocked. Of course this is a regular thing with some guys, but this was scary as the auto driver told me that he had seen the guy on the road where I was standing to take an auto. I thanked him profusely. He then took a small deviation and bought me to office. When I got down he advised me never to give directions to guys as some guys have this habit of chatting up girls in the guise of asking directions.

I was a little shaken in the office. Later it struck me that the auto driver had actually saved me a lot of trouble by taking that left turn.

Whenever you are, “God bless you!!!”.

Some facts about myself...

I was tagged by Kusum. Here are some unknown facts about myself.

My Accent: Neutral and the voice is husky :)

Booze: White wine preferably, but if you can’t afford it I will settle for Rum and Coke or a Beer ;)

Chore I Hate: Dusting…but I am a cleanliness freak so I will dust no matter what :(

Dog or Cat: Dogs… the more the merrier

Essential Electronics: Electric Chain Saw :)) ( My PC, Laptop, Hair dryer, I Pod)

Perfume: Rose from Sonia Rykiel

Gold or Silver: Neither, I love my best friend ;) (‘Diamonds’ for the uninitiated)

Home: Namma Bengaluru forever!!!! ( was almost born here in the seventh month but the good doc was in no mood to pander to my hurry and made sure I stuck in there for 8 months :p)

Insomnia: Never, I sleep like a baby

Job Title: Communications Specialist

Living Arrangements: I live with my parents.

Most Admirable Traits: I make friends for life and have been the person to say ‘Sorry’ even if it was not my fault just to save a friendship. I have friends right from Kindergarten :)

Number of Sexual Partners: Zero, Zilch, None, Nil, Nought (wow that is five already, way to go baby!!!)

Number of times in hospital: Every time I saw a sexy Doc ;) ( about 4 times)

Phobias: Train bridges.

Quote: ' Life is like a coin. You can spend it any way you wish, but you only spend it once.'

Religion: Catholic

Siblings: Two elder brothers

Time I Wake Up: 6:30 am come rain or shine or Saturday or Sunday *groan*

Unusual Talent or Skill: I can juggle three balls :)

Vegetable I Love: Brinjal and Ladies Finger and Karela ( I like veggies)

Worst Habit: I think too fast, work too fast and tend to get impatient with people whose cerebral processing are slower than mine and hence take on jobs alone. It is difficult for me to work with slow movers.

X-Rays: When I broke my hand and when I had to join this company during the mandatory Medical Check up.

Yummy Food I Make: Cooking is my hobby so everything I make is yummy ( or so I like to think) But I make yummy Pastas and Desserts ( both are challenging to make)

Zodiac Sign: Cancer

People tagged to do it : Anyone who would like to take it up ( I am hoping it will be Alexis, Mind Curry, Ganja Turtle, and Jiby. Come on guys make my day) :))

Sr. Mary and Creation

As a kid I would be taken to church every Sunday for Mass. This was something you did back then without fail. In fact I could never imagine missing Sunday Mass. It was a big no-no though I didn’t know why. At Church, I sat and fidgeted and turned back to look at the faces of people and yawned. I just could not relate to the service, as I didn’t understand it. And 45 minutes was too long for someone like me to sit through. Sometimes I fell asleep, as the atmosphere in the Church is so peaceful and the droning of the prayers made your lids droop. This continued for some time and by the time I was 8 or 9 I resented going for Mass. But there was no escape ...this was something you did like taking your meds and shots and doing your homework.

Around the 9th year of my life an angel in the form of an Irish nun entered my life. Or I should say flitted into my life. And life was never the same again. She was slim and sprightly with warm blue eyes that twinkled and you felt that you could look into her soul through those eyes. She was the kind of person you would instantly like. She was put incharge of my class as our spiritual guide and mentor. Something must have been wrong with us for the Principal to transfer her from catechism classes for the senior girls to us lowly 3rd year primies.

To begin with we were the most talkative class in the history of the school ( or so the nuns and teachers told us). This was noticed in Nursery itself. It is funny how some classes in schools get the naughtiest or quietest or most talkative kids. It’s like the stars or some unforeseen force connive to bring children of similar traits together. When my brother M joined school his class was the naughtiest and also the cleverest group of boys who had come together in a long time. They drove the teachers up the wall, but they are still remembered affectionately by the faculty for their innocent goofiness.

Sr. Mary was a non-conventional kind of Nun. She is one Nun who would perhaps have been ex communicated from the Church if the Vatican only knew what she taught the young girls in her charge. Before she took charge of our class for Catechism and Retreats, I think her predecessor had briefed her about the little horrors that she would be teaching, the word of God.

The first day of class, she asked us some questions about God. We gave some lack luster answers. She smiled and didn’t say anything. After the initial introduction she took us out of the classroom. My school is situated amidst acres of greenery in the heart of Bangalore. If I were to look up at the tree canopy during assembly, I could spot at least 7 varieties of birds. (and that’s what I did during assembly most of the time). Sometimes during assembly the Parrots would make so much noise (they still do) that Sister would stop the prayers and say over the mike “I think God doesn’t like our prayers. That’s why he using the Parrots to stop us from mouthing insincere prayers.” The assemblage would laugh.

Sister Mary made all of us pick up a leaf. And then she asked us why the leaf was shaped the way it was. None of us had an answer. She then proceeded to give us our very first catechism class under the old Tamarind tree that I swear was an air conditioner in the guise of a tree. She told us the reason for the shape of the leaf . As she talked I realized that there was an order around us, a reason for everything. There was a carefully thought and put together plan that ran the giant recycling plant caled Earth.

The class listened spellbound. How could a lowly leaf contribute to the very existence of life on Earth? Suddenly God became more than just an English word. He became a reality. We were confronted with the fact there indeed was a Creator behind everything on Earth and the heavens (even though he was invisible). There was a visible sign of the Creator everywhere. In the leaf of grass, the flowers, the pattern of seeding, flowering, wilting, the seasons, the years, the rotation of the planets…..

This class also generated an interest in biology in me. Things I never noticed before were now objects of interest. And the more I read the more I was vowed by God’s Creation…it’s intricacy, it’s scope, complexity and the SHEER ORDER in its sheer vastness. I was overawed. I developed an intense liking for Biology and it led me on a voyage of discovery and a better understanding of the working of the Universe at a macro level.

Today when I look at a lowly leaf I realize how great God is. And I marvel at His Omnipotence, Omniscience and Omnipresence. And all because of that one lesson Sr Mary took under the tamarind tree many years ago.

(Sr Mary died in Ireland a couple of years ago at the ripe old age of 85. To be continued some day when I can get over the senti, whenever I think of her :) )

Happy Birthday Alexis!

"I shot an arrow into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For so swiftly it flew, the sight
Could not follow it in its flight.

I breathed a song into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For, who has sight so keen and strong
That it can follow the flight of song?

Long, long afterward, in an oak
I found the arrow, still unbroke;
And the song, from beginning to end,
I found again in the heart of a friend."

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

This was one of my favorite poem in school and I dedicate this to Alexis on his Birthday (June 19th). Blogging has been like that arrow in the air that found me a friend like Alexis.

Happy Birthday Alexis!!!

Tag of Four

Alexis' Tag of Four

4 jobs I’ve had:

1. Vegetable cutter and cake batter stirrer (for mom), cricket ball collector (for big brother) fetching water, cold drinks, snacks, TV remote (for second brother) grey hair plucker and drinks mixer (for Dad). All jobs except the third, paid well.
2. Copy writer
3. Marketing Communications / PR
4. Integrated Communications Specialist

4 films I could watch again and again:

1. While you were sleeping
2. Shawshank Redemption
3. Bend it like Beckham
4. Three men and a baby
( and many more but I could only list 4 *boo hoo*)

4 places I’ve lived in:

1. A not so sleepy village in Pala (Dad's place)
2. A very sleepy village in Changanassery (moms place)
3. Kerala ( all vacations)
4. Bangalore

4 TV series I like to watch:

1. Caroline in the City ( and M*A*S*H when it used to air)
2. Frasier and Becker
3. Law and Order
4. The Practice

4 places that I’ve been on vacation to:

1. Neighboring countries
2. Dubai
3. Some States of the US (relatives)
4. Some countries in the Europe (relatives)

4 websites I visit everyday:

1. Adforum and Agencyfaqs
2. My company website (occupational hazard)
3. My blogpals blogs
4. CNN, NDTV, BBC etc.

4 books I’d love to read again and again:

1. Onions in the Stew-Betty MacDonald
2. All the Classics and Epics that I have read so far
3. James Herriot and Gerald Durrel
4. The Keys to the Kingdom by AJ Cronin

4 favorite dishes:

1. Kerala Cuisine
2. Lasagna and any other kind of pasta with lots of cheese
3. Chinese
4. Salads

4 places where I’d like to be right now:

1. Trekking in the mountains
2. Outside..walking
3. Home
4. Austria

4 people I’m gonna tag:

Mind Curry, Dhanush , Shruthi , Quills,

Famine and Plenty

Last week, we decided to spend the day at a Resort on Hosur Road. It was a sort of advance father’s day celebration for my Dad. The place is a sylvan paradise, away from the city. As we walked past the reception we saw a huge buffet spread of Breakfast almost a mile across in the air conditioned patio. There were about 8 diners and the breakfast was enough to feed 50! Soon brunch was laid. There were five diners and the food was enough for another 50. This too was cleared and Lunch was laid out soon after. Lunch had a better crowd of about 50 people thought there was enough to feed 100. Made me sick in the stomach and for once I thanked God that I am such a salad buff. I never progress beyond the Salad counter at any buffet.

We were the last to troop in for lunch after a beer and a swim. There were used plates piled up in a container in a corner. The amount of food wasted was an eye popping amount. I wondered if these diners would waste food at home with the same impunity that they do at buffets and parties. Now...I understand that this is the hospitality business and food is just another commodity being sold. So I am not going to rant about wastage here. But I have seen people eating leftovers in the dustbins outside wedding halls….and I still cannot get that sight out of my mind.

Outside, tending to the vast gardens of the Resort were scores of workers. As I watched them from the air conditioned comfort of the dining hall I couldn’t but feel sick at the situation here. These people needed the kind of nutrition that we get because of the tough physical work they do while we need to eat simply as we are mostly in front of the comp doing mental work.

Of course we all know that such things don’t happen...people are poor and there are people who are not poor and all that blah. What defies logic is that we build satellites, send people into space, break the speed of sound and what not...but we are yet to eradicate poverty and hunger. If we can achieve all those scientific breakthroughs then what prevents us from solving the simple problem of poverty and hunger? Why do we have people living hand to mouth side by side with people who gorge themself to obesity and cardiac arrest!!

Most IT cos. including mine have something called a Corporate Social Initiative, where we adopt an old age home, or orphanage or donate our services like teaching in village schools etc. Such small initiatives are bringing about a lot of changes in the less fortunate people's lives. Ironic isn’t it that it takes a foreign company to instill a sense of community spirit and participation in us Indians? And we talk of our culture and family values?

I think herein lies a possible solution. We Indians have to stop living like islands and get involved in the community. We need to support and participate in community initiatives if we have to move the behemoth of poverty out of our land. But that takes sacrifice, like a Sunday spent in some community work and how many of us are willing to do that?

I hope I don’t sound snobbish here, but I was made to eat everything I had served on my plate. We learnt very early in life that it was better to take small servings or end up gagging because wastage was not allowed. The three of us siblings would trade left overs for odd jobs. You-finish-what’s-on-my-plate-and-I-will-polish-your-shoes-tomorrow kind of arrangement was the norm :)

I know it is easy to blog and sound all proper and do nothing...but I needed to vent some steam today after seeing the colossal wastage in the cafeteria.

Shopping within your budget

What I am going to talk about is old hat. But after observing many such incidents and a few conversations down the years, I do have something to say as this is a topic that rankles me no end.

Take Anita ( not a real name). Anita is a mallu Christian girl, well educated and smart. She is a Senior Software Engineer with us and gets a decent salary. Anita is of marriageable age and her folks are actively looking around for ‘suitable’ grooms. Nothing new here.

Anita’s parents will get several profiles that fit the bill and Anita may like a few from the profiles her parents have gathered. After her parents and she have narrowed down what they feel is best from the proposed grooms the pennu kaanal ceremony begins. This will further narrow down the field to a couple of people that both parties agree on. Till here it is smooth sailing for both parties.

Then comes the crunch. After all this exercise Anita’s father will have to see who he can ‘afford’ among the final list of prospective grooms. The ‘price’ of the groom is taken into consideration and decisions made. If the price is too high, he will have to bargain or pledge land. If the boy’s family refuses to budge then he will have to set his sights lower. He will look for a groom who is perhaps lesser qualified and paid. Most girls will accept the arrangement. Some like Anita will not and decide that they are better off single. But girls like Anita are in the minority. A very tiny miniscule minority.

Marriages in Kerala is like shopping ( I cannot speak for other states). You look around and buy what fits yours or your father’s purse.

If you are exceptionally good looking and fair then there are many rich men willing to marry you without dowry to increase their snob value and the quality content of their gene pool.

If you are drawing a really high compensation package, then you get massive discounts for the best brands.

If Daddy has the moolah then money is not a constraint.

Some gals fall in love and get away without paying; some have to still pay a token advance even if it is a love marriage.

Then if you are lucky some brands may sell at a cheaper price due to age, short stature or faulty packaging like dark complexion or a pot belly or some physical disability.

The lesser mortal’s a.k.a. the qualified but without above attributes have it the toughest. They settle for cheap substitutes (excuse the language but I can’t think of anything else) and envy the luck of the people with more money power.

After the cold and unfeeling 'transaction' is over the wedding takes place and the Bride and Groom actually look happy in the photos.

This is such a well established system that no ones even notices it and look askance at you when you question it.

p.s. since this is a trading environment no protests about “cheap substitutes making good husbands is a cheap shot” and “cheap substitutes are humans too” and “cheap substitutes have feelings” etc will be accepted :p

Love or Infatuation?

I was watching an old Hindi movie on TV yesterday. I remember having seen it before many years ago. I love watching old movies. It is interesting to see the cities and towns as they looked those days. Mallu movies disappoint because most of them were shot in studios and the backgrounds are almost always painted on. I saw an old mallu song programme the other day and Prem Nazir was singing in the Nilgiri’s. I was wonder struck at the sight of Nilgiri’s some 40 years ago!!! Infinitely more beautiful than how it looks today even though the movie was black and white. I felt like stepping into the screen and going back in time. How I long to go back in time, to see how our great great grandparents lived. The quaint customs, costumes and the simple homes and empty roads. These old movies are the only vistas we have left of days gone by.

I have always been very intrigued by the romance scenes in these movies. In fact you see such scenarios in the movies of today also. Guy meets a gal or notices her and there is instant attraction. The attraction turns to love even though they meet but rarely and soon they are willing to lay down their lives for each other. This happens all the time in real life too. It is happening all the time in my company. And this is something that I could never understand. People fall in love out of mere attraction and then get married. How can you fall in love with a person at first sight? Or fall for how a person looks. I would never be able to do that.

Look at the way we make friends. We tend to gravitate towards people with common interests and thoughts and people whom we are comfortable with. But when it comes to love, we do just the opposite.

I have met beautiful people who are quite ugly inside once you get to know them and vice versa. It is not like I categorize people as black and white only. But this is what most of us see in the other sex. We never take a holistic view. I think people have the black and white and the grey in them and it is this that makes up a person. And I feel one must know what is black and white and grey in another human being to be able to know the person well. It is when you know and are able to accept the black and white and grey in another human being that true love blossoms. And this love will be enduring because you like this person for what he/she is and there are very few startling surprises. But such a scenario can only happen if we let guys and girls mingle freely before marriage naah? But no, our parents/society prefers to keep the sexes segregated leading to so much conflict in young people’s lives. I am not espousing inter religious or inter culture marriages here. That is left to the people involved in the relationship. But even within our own communities, I think young people should be allowed to meet freely. In fact the Catholic Church has started such a movement in Kerala my cousin informs me.

Maybe my analysis is stupid and skewed and immature but I have seen too many friends, both males and females fall in love because ‘she looked cute’ or ‘he looked like a hunk’. And then after some time the obsession with looks gets over and realities a.k.a. personalities begin to come to the fore wreaking mayhem in a relationship that was based on physical attraction only.

We are such an immature nation/people in romance. When relationships are increasingly becoming fragile the society should device ways to strengthen it and not hold onto old beliefs and prejudices. And the society is us. When you and me change our attitude and stop bitching and stop others bitching when they see a boy and a girl together, the general attitude of the whole society will change.

( Today another such 'love story' fell apart and hence the rant :p)

Pass or perish

Sometime back an iron rod fell on my toe. It was quite painful but there was no visible injuries. I have this penchant since childhood of ignoring injuries leading to various complications and last minute rush to hospitals. This time too I ignored the toe and the pain lessened in a few days. But my toe looked greenish blue and yesterday when I trimmed my toe nails, a gush of pus and blood came out from underneath the nail. It wouldn’t stop and every time I walked the nail would spurt some more liquidy stuff from the nail bed. The nail drained out and the then the needle like pain began. I finally showed it to my brother and he rushed me to hospital. I was taken into the Outpatient Ward and made to lie down.

There were other beds too in the ward cordoned off by curtains. In the next bed a lot of activity was going on. Nurses were rushing around. Since there was no one to attend to me, I lay there listening to the noise and sounds of the ward. Hospitals have always intimidated me and the reassuring sight of a doctor was always a welcome relief. But the doctors on duty were also busy attending to the patient in the next bed. From the conversation of the nurses I could make out that the patient had tried to commit suicide. The nurses worked very efficiently joking amongst themselves. There was no anxiety or tension in the room like they show in those American Medical Serials. The patient’s stomach was cleaned and she was stabilized. Her mom in Burqa hovered close by in shock. A young man with tears in his eyes kept coming in to check on the patient only to be shooed away.

By this time my brother panicked and came to see what the delay was all about. He was told to buy syringes and bandages and medicines and thought that it was something serious. Besides there was no one inside to advice him about me. He walked in to check on me and was relived to see me chatting with the nurse who was bandaging me. He was a little annoyed at the lack of information. That is when I told him of the suicide attemptee in the next bed. He parted the curtains and peeped in a saw a young girl. I saw her later and she looked like an angel sleeping on the hospital bed. She was frail and looked so cute and vulnerable. I couldn’t imagine why someone so young would want to end here life. Later my brother stuck up conversation with the men in the girl’s family and learnt that she had failed in her 12th standard exams.

As they wheeled me out I heard the doctor telling the family that they needed to find out what it was that the girl had ingested, which meant tests. I don’t know what happened after that.

A doctor who is a family friend tells us that for every reported suicide attempts there are several that go unreported. This year during school results time the cops were patrolling areas where students generally try to commit suicides. But they could not prevent the record number of suicides. Instead of patrolling lakes and railway lines and high rise buildings, wouldn’t it be more prudent to revise the education system that has long outlived it’s utility and is now putting a tremendous amount of pressure on the students?

Cancer on Earth

When you are in the company of people you have grown up with, you tend to speak without thinking. It is a level of comfort that makes you let your guard down and you make conversation with ease. It is a comfort level born of years being together. At my meeting with S, the heroine of my last post, S asked me casually, why every organism on Earth is important. She has put up with my impassioned talks on environment, wildlife protection for years. And she was also a willing volunteer when I had launched the “No plastics" month in college.

The conversation went something like this.

S: Why is every animal important for the environment?
Me: Every animal and living thing is placed by Nature for a purpose.
S: Even rats? ( she hates rats)
Me: Yes, even rats.
S: How can rats be useful to the environment?
Me: Well they are food for snakes, owls, vultures etc. A vulture is nature’s scavenger and because of vultures we don’t have pandemics. But alas their numbers are shrinking.
S: Even insects are important? (she is terrified of insects)
Me: Yes. Look the Earth is a healthy body. The environment and wild life and other life forms are its metabolism. It needs all these to function as a healthy body. Every thing on Earth is important except human beings. Humans are like a Cancer on the healthy body of Earth. I think, natural calamities are the Earth’s immune system keeping our numbers in check to protect it from being overwhelmed and destroyed. But I think Earth is losing the battle.

The conversation stopped and a comfortable silence fell between us. And then in tandem after a minute or two both of us looked at each other startled. And I suddenly realized what I had said, while S reeled from the import of what I had said. A broody silence again fell between us after that as we mulled over things. S finally giggled and said "Thank God, the Ransom Girls are not around. This would have been the drop of blood for the sharks."

Ransom Girls was a group in college diametrically opposite to our group. When I organized “No Plastics Month” they organized the “Plastic Awareness Month”. They put up posters describing the revolution bought about by plastics by making us less dependent on natural resources like wood, metal etc. The theme for their campaign “ Plastic satisfies your every need”. In retaliation we put up a poster on the Notice Board. I will leave you to guess the content of the poster. It was pulled down before the faculty arrived in the morning and put back during lunch break on the cafeteria walls. It left the Ransom Girls very red faced for a very long time to come.

Now why were they called Ransom Girls? That is something I shall not reveal. One of them blogs you see. I do not want a war developing here :p

Finally...I am now wondering uneasily if my remark that human beings are like cancerous organisms on Earth might be true. Forget what religion says about all of us being God’s children and being on earth for a purpose and all that jazz. On a baser level as animals we serve no purpose. We do not give to the Environment. We only take. I don’t see where we fit in the scheme of things. I have tried and tried to think of one use of humans on Earth and I find none.

Giggles from the past...

Thanks to incessant rains I am stuck in the house. So I thought I would pen down something about a friend I met yesterday. 'S' is one of my friends from school through college. A really sweet Gujju girl. S was the most innocent gal in our group and I frankly don’t know how she survived the wonder years with us. Most people in college thought she was the misfit in our group.

I remember a fashion show in college. S walked out to the catwalk carrying her saree dupatta in hand, sashaying languidly. The rest of us were waiting for our cue to walk out to the catwalk. Just when she was half way through her catwalk I whispered loudly in a theatrical whisper “hey your blouse is open at the back!!!”. S froze, fumbled for her saree dupatta , covered herself tightly without turning around and then ran to the back of the stage holding a hand over her mouth to suppress a scream. All of us collapsed laughing. Of course there was no problem with the blouse but then S was someone we loved to rag. She would end up giggling uncontrollably when she realized that she had been had. Never once did she get angry at our pranks.

Once on a summer hol trip to Kodai, S went to change her clothes in the cottage restroom. After waiting for 5 minutes, we all said loudly “S we can see you”. There was a piercing shriek from the toilet and S quickly wrapped herself with a towel and sat on the commode looking fearfully around for open windows or vents. Inspite of repeated assurances she refused to come out of the toilet. Finally she did come out after we had given her a bedsheet to cover herself. She changed after we had held a few bedhseet around her as she refused to go into the toilet. The whole thing boomeranged on us when S refused to go to the toilet after that and kept jumping up and down cos she wanted to pee really bad. Finally we had to conduct a live demo to show her that the toilet was safe and we were indeed joking.

Another time for my 21st birthday, we had a party at my house. My 21st birthday fell on a weekday and we had the party on a Friday night. S’s dad is a very strict man and disapproves of drinking and coming late etc. But then back then most of my friends parents thought I was a model friend to their daughters. I had this readymade angelic face you see :p Perfect foil for evil. S was given permission to come as it was my house.

This was the first time we all had Vodka as all of us were turning 21 that year. My brother M was the bar tender ( and supervisor as my parents were away for a wedding) and he made some wonderful but unknown to us, very low alcoholic content cocktails for us. S got slightly bold after she realized that she was quite fine after a Bloody Mary. So she had another and then another. By this time most of us were dancing to some loud music and garish home made disco lights courtesy M. No one noticed S steadily plowing through my drink and the other glasses scattered around various tables in the hall. By the time the party wound up she must have had some 6 small Vodkas (or more I dunno). She was very tipsy and was giggling like a Hyena at every thing we said.

Me: Looks like you had too much to drink tonight!
S: *giggle*
Nina: You better have some black coffee.
S: ha ha ha ha
Tia: Drink some water, you will feel much better.
S : Ahahahahahahahah hoo hoo hoo hee hee hee (rolling on the sofa )

We were in big trouble now. S had to return home as per orders. As we debated what to do, we heard S taking to someone on the phone. A dim wit friend of mine, Bhanu had convinced S to call her Mom and ask permission to stay back at my house. To her bad luck her Dad picked up the phone.

S: Hello
S’s Dad: Hello
S (cupping the mouthpiece and whispering to Bhanu): Oh my god it’s my dad
Bhanu: Put the phone down quick.
But S was already talking to her Dad in a fake voice.
S( trying hard not to slur): Mr Patel? Can I speak to you wife?

The genius thought that her Dad would not recognize her voice!

To cut the story short, I did manage to convince her Dad that she had just a bit of wine and she got permission to stay at my house.

S entertained us throughout our school and college days with her innocence and simplicity. Now she is getting married, to an equally sweet guy. I wish her the best and hope she keeps smiling and giggling through life like she always did.

Happy Mothers Day!

Happy Mother’s Day to all the mommies. My cousin sister in Bangalore called us up to wish my Mom and her sisters all of who are here for another Engagement. She made her little daughter wish me. It was so cute to hear her say "Happy Mothers Day chechi". I am her regular babysitter you see and it was very sweet of my cuz sis to do that. Before my cuz sis could put the receiver down I heard her daughter ask her why she should wish me for Mothers Day as I am not a mommy. That question bought a flood of memories and I am dedicating this post to a special person in my life, who was like a second mother to me throughout my growing years. And this person is my mom’s youngest sister Ann.

Ann is nearly 12 years younger to my mom and was ( and still is) a breathtaking beauty. All the girls in the family were famed for their beauty but Ann was the best. Poor thing was also born into an ultra orthodox Syrian Catholic family, which means she was berated if a guy even looked in her direction. She grew up never appreciating her own beauty and always felt it was her fault because someone made a remark about her good looks. Such remarks were construed as shameful and she would get a scolding. Good Syrian Catholic girls did not attract undue attention to themselves according to norms in those days.

Inspite of having the ‘handicap’ of being extremely beautiful, she was a happy go lucky gal, who was absolutely crazy about me. For Dassara and Christmas holidays, she would insist that I be sent to Kerala and I remember flying as an Unaccompanied Minor with Indian Airlines. (We get about 10 days for Dassara and X'mas)The joy of seeing her face among the sea of people waiting at the airport is indescribable. She would lift me up and refuse to put me down and then I was her daughter for the duration of the stay. She would jealously refuse even my Ammachi from taking me to church, or the chandha, the farmers market which I loved to attend. Neither would she leave my side for a minute.

People would tease her saying that now that I am home, Ann will ignore everybody or they would say “wait till she goes back, then you will have to talk to us”. She is a gifted artist and wrote small articles for Femina in the 70’s. On the insistence of my Mom and her other sister’s, my grandparents let her complete her MA. They were afraid to keep a beautiful daughter unwed at home for too long.

For her wedding I threw a tantrum and hated her husband at sight. I didn’t understand why she had to go away with some strange man . And my uncle understood my hostility and promised me at the reception that he would take good care of her. It took me many months to get over the hostility and talk to him. But he kept his promise and is a wonderful husband and Uncle to me. He is also my favorite Uncle because he is a birder like me and we have been to many expeditions together. Today he is taking me to a place where he has seen some rare birds. Their greatest regret…that they have only sons and no daughter. A fact that saddens her to this day. Sometimes she sighs and says, maybe it was her greed for a daughter that made God punish her.

If she did have a daughter then that little girl would have been the luckiest girl in the whole world to have her as a mother.

The Ladies of the Slum

Warning: Very long post.

There is a small slum next to Infant Jesus church. You will pass it on the way to Koramangala from M.G Road. Most of the domestic workers who work in M G Road, Brigade Road and surrounding areas reside here. A hut costs anything between Rs. 200 to Rs. 500 in rent. Many families share space to reduce rent.

The place is mostly populated by immigrants from Tamil Nadu who came here generations ago. Most of them don’t even remember the name of their ancestral village in TN. As you walk into the slum, you are struck by the cleanliness despite its drab appearance from the outside. The houses are small but very neat and clean. A Neem tree or two grow wherever a small patch of earth is left uncemented. Most of the houses have at least a pot with some ornamental plant on the roof or in front of the door. Possessions are kept to a bare minimum and the kitchen sparkles with clean and neatly arranged utensils. The kitchen is the pride of the lady of the houses even if the kitchen fires burn but rarely. Even the surrounding areas of the huts are clean. If you were to give your old stuff to these ladies they will sell it to the Marwari in exchange for a saree or a utensil.

These intrepid ladies are free from domestic work by afternoon. Most of them work in four or five houses. They leave home around 5:30 in the morning after getting the kids ready for school and walk to their places of work. They go to work neatly dressed, with a red pottu on the forehead and fresh jasmine flowers on their oiled hair. Their children go to school walking or by bus.

Most of them wear the wash n wear sarees. In fact if you were give them a Silk Saree they will exchange it for a wash n wear saree at the Marwari shop. On Sundays when they go to the temple or church they wear colorful sarees with a bit of gold work. The culture passed onto them from their ancestors remains intact. Their homes, food, festivals reflect their lifestyle of their village back home in TN. It’s like they live in a time warp.

The marwari is an important part of these people’s lives. They lend money, buy used household items that they get from the place of work and sell things at very reasonable rates to these people. Of course they are unscrupulous too.

Once the ladies get back from work, they cook the afternoon meal. Those who can afford will buy a bun in the morning, but most of these folks live on two meals a day. Their diet is simple, rice and dal and the leftovers they bring with them from work. Since the ladies are free most of the day, they sit around chatting and sweeping. They sweep their homes every hour or so. Which is why the slum is spick and span. Many hut owners have now made pucca houses. As you walk through the streets skirting goats and chickens, it is difficult to believe you are in the heart of Bangalore. The place looks like those small villages you pass by when driving out of the city.

Small shops border the slum. You get everything at dirt-cheap rates here. From Whitewash to used engine oil to cooking oil and provisions. These shops cater to the slum crowd and you will see some brands that you didn’t know existed. For an MTR Turmeric powder you have a Mary Turmeric powder or a Raja Chilli powder and Rani coconut oil. A peek into these small shops will give you a glimpse of a thriving parallel economy. The shelves are neatly arranged and the shopkeeper usually sits outside on a stool. On Thursdays after Mass at the Shrine, crowds of worshippers come to these shops and they do brisk business.

What strikes you most as you walk into the slum is the absence of men during daytime as most of them hold 9 to 5 jobs as construction workers, masons, car mechanics etc.

The air in the slum is one of quite contentment. However by 7 ‘0’ clock the calm is shattered as the men return, drunk. Then the air rends with the weeping and wailing of women getting beaten up and raucous fights. This goes on till the men fall into a stupor and calm returns to the slum. In the morning everything will be forgotten as husbands are expected to behave in such manner. The women are resigned to it besides the presence of a man in their life makes a lot of difference in a slum. She will have a certain social standing and escape the lustful gaze of other men.

I have been into this slum several times with my Mom. Most of the times it was to pull out a badly beaten up maid and take her to hospital. After we moved out of the city, I have lost contact with the ladies of the slum. I do not know how things are now, but whenever I pass by in the Auto, I see that nothing much has changed. The houses are still neat and clean and the village like atmosphere still prevails. I do hope that the lot of the ladies, who carried me around, combed my hair and tut tutted at my mom because she didn’t put the black dot on my face to ward off evil eyes, is better now.

Culture shock!

This incident happened two weeks back. I was sitting at my comp when my expat colleague W walked past and playfully pulled my pony tail. He would always say that it reminded him of the tails of the miniature horses in his farm back home. This particular day he stopped and asked me if I wasn’t fed up of the long hair and the maintenance that comes with it. He said girls in the US tried different kind of styles. Without thinking I told him "I would love to, but my Mom will kill me". A typical off the cuff remark from an Indian girl. W suddenly froze and seemed taken aback at what I had said. I felt a sinking feeling like when you realize that you have made an embarrassing slip of the tongue but you quite don’t know what. I desperately tried to remember what I had just said to him.

Flashes of an incident at my Induction came to my mind. Miss Nair joining as a CA in this company with me, standing at the podium answering questions thrown at her. When asked about her extra curricular activities she blurted out “ I am doing an Inter Course” ( the last two words were said together). There was pin drop silence as people froze and politely refrained from laughing till I burst into giggles. There were embarrassed half smiles from the guys in the audience and muffled and uneasy giggling from the gals. Miss Nair never realized what she had said and left the podium a little confused at the reaction of the audience.

Now I was sure I had committed a similar gaffe too. I blushed red. W, recovering from the shock drawled in his Texan drawl. ( I have never heard a Texan drawl but I guess his accent came close to what I thought was a drawl) “ Do you have to take permission from your mother to cut your hair??????” It suddenly dawned on me that for a Westerner like him this sounded ridiculous. I groaned inwardly. Far from presenting my country as a high tech destination I had in a single swoop reduced it to the land of the Maharaja’s, snake charmers and subservient daughters.

I tried my best to explain to him about the Indian family and respect for parents and Indian values etc. but I guess I was blabbering because W suddenly said “You know, there was this time I colored my hair and my mother threw a fit!” He was clearly throwing me a lifeline to pull my country and myself out of the hole I had dug it into. And I grabbed it gratefully. We chatted for a few minutes more.

Just then my colleague R who is expecting a baby walked past. I introduced her to W and told him “ Do you know she hasn’t told her mom she is expecting? Her mom will be very distressed if she comes to know that R is expecting another baby. She doesn’t want R to go through the trouble of raising another baby without any help!” W froze again taken aback at what I had just said.

We were back to square one.

The girly things in life...

Many summers ago my folks enrolled me for a Summer Camp. I was told that I would learn swimming, painting and that I will have loads of fun. Since my friend Rita too was joining I happily went along as there was still a week for school to start. I made loads of friends my pint size and among them was a boy who came to me and said shyly.


Him: I want to be your Boy Friend
Me: But we are friend’s naah!
Him: No, we will be Boy Friend and Girl Friend
Me: What does that mean?
Him: It means we will sit and have lunch together and
play together
Me: Ok

A few days later

Me: I wanna play with Rita
Him: No, you will only play with me.
Me: But I really wanna play with Rita
Him: No!!!!!
Me: Get lost!!!!!!!

BF bawled his head out and the Camp Conductor told me to shake hands and make up with my BF. I did shake hands and make up with him but refused to be his GF or whatever it was. This was circa early 90’s.

Nothing much has changed from the last century I see. Yesterday my friend fought with her BF and broke up because she wanted to hang out with us... our gang. He just doesn’t understand why she needs to be with her friends and needs her space. Men !!!!

Why are guys like this?

Little people

Deepa wrote a lovely post on the world of dreams that we retreat into when the real world gets too distressing to handle. She writes about a girl whose make believe world has two brothers. This was because she was an only child with very busy parents. I felt annoyed after reading this. I have always talked for and I will always talk for Children’s Rights. Children should have rights too even if they are minors. I am talking of the right to a childhood with the attention of parents the natural guardians and care takers for a child.

I heard a Priest tell my newly wed friend and his wife rather sermonizingly that as good Christian they should have children soon and that they should not deny life. I was furious. I wanted to tell the Priest that the good Lord who had made the Reproductive Organs had made the Brains too. So why should we use only the Reproductive Organs? I was hopping mad at the irresponsible statement.

It is not just this Priest, but also most busy young parents of today who are guilty for bringing children into the world just for the sake of it. They don't have the time or the help needed to bring up a child yet go ahead and have kids. (Here I am talking about educated people.)

As a detached observer I have always wondered about the exact reason people have children. Is it because they want a child as a token of their love that they want to cherish and bring up, or is it because it happens naturally after marriage or is it to continue the family name ?

When I see young parents dropping off kids to crèches and picking them late in the evening I feel an enormous amount of pity for these kids. They look lost, lonely, cranky and sometimes terribly quite after a day spent at the Crèche when they should ideally be spending the precious childhood with a family. Why should they suffer because the responsibility of carrying on the family name rests on their tender shoulders? Don’t they count as individuals? When will we have a voice or a law that will speak for the child?

There is a young couple in my neighborhood. Both work long hours and they have a 4-year-old daughter they leave with a lady who runs a Crèche. In the evening around 6 ‘o’ clock the mother comes and picks up the child. The child effectively gets about three hours time of ‘waking time’ at her ‘home’. During this time the mother is busy cooking.

Besides she is pregnant with another child.

When will this senseless reproduction stop?

May Day

Labor Day is a glorious holiday because your child will be going back to school the next day. It would have been called Independence Day, but that name was already taken.

-Bill Dodds