Cuddly, cuddly, all mine! :)

There are some charming people who belong to the small world of mine. Soft and cute and definitely adorable, they are more than dolls to me. I thought I should introduce them to you. Shall we begin?


Let’s meet the big bro first! Big man Bozzo, Bozzo the Bear! Bozzo is the oldest of the lot and supposedly, the most mature and sober of them all! And that shows up most vividly in his large, chubby face! This chap loves, ‘simply loves’ food and Ahem, I assume that is quite obvious! Bozzo has always remained the man of few words, and is often feared (and disliked by one particular person, whom I shall name later) for that particularly ‘smug’ expression on his face. Once, this fellow caught sight of a woman who got her hair dyed pink, and pink being his favourite colour, was desperate to have his ears coloured as well! His friends tried hard to convince him, but since our dear Bozzo had his mind set, got one of his ears dyed pink and added a dash of blue as well, to look Yo!


Next in line is the absolutely feline, feminine, beauty queen. Ladies and Gentlemen, may I request you to please put your hands together to welcome the gorgeous damsel, the sweet pussy cat, Pooshy! Pooshy is definitely not someone whom you can take your eyes off easily. She will hold you with her smart gaze and of course with that erect and professional pose of hers, she may very well be the perfect model for all your cameras! Having said that, I ought to tell you what Pooshy treasures most. Well, yes, it is her bushy, bushy tail that she prides herself for and as expected, quite a lot of effort goes into maintaining her prized asset. Ah, I suppose you can all see the tail, can’t you? She actually wouldn’t let me go without ensuring that it appeared in her solo picture!


And then I would love to introduce this pretty faced, sweetie, cutie pie of mine, the child with the golden curls, Pinky! Pinky is the most obedient child you could get and she sweetly agreed to sit next to my telephone, to take care of calls whenever I am not around. Pinky’s golden curls are, to put it most simply, neighbours’ envy and owners’ pride! I got her home, falling for that innocent smile of hers and of course for those curls! She insisted that she wanted to display her curls for the picture and here they are! She and Pooshy are thick friends and Pooshy’s pink ribbon was Pinky’s gift for Pooshy’s birthday!


Ah, what moment is more perfect than this, to introduce the Mr.Romeo of this gang? Adonis, rightly named thus, is the Yo! Man with the guitar. Actually a ted, Adonis gets more than a teeny-weeny bit upset, because he is often mistaken for a lion cub! This chap is one hell of a smart bugger, for he starts plucking the strings, the moment a specimen of the better sex is in sight! Pat him on his head, and he shakes it as if in trance, and strums his guitar to sing the song, “Come on baby, let’s do the trick!” (Uh, really??) And didn’t I tell you, there is someone who isn’t too fond of Bozzo? It’s no one else but Adonis, for he often finds female teds attracted to Bozzo for his serious nature! Of late I suspect, Adonis has set his eyes on Pinky and starts his “Come on baby..” the moment she appears. He is however a little wary of Pooshy, and calls her the ‘no-nonsense’ babe and no wonder I see Pooshy around, whenever Pinky enters Adonis’ room! :P


Last but definitely not the least, let’s say hi to Jojo, the Jumbo! Jojo, is so, so innocent and naïve, I can’t tell you, that he often is made the baby of the gang. Jojo has great trouble with his nose that half the time he struggles to balance the rest of his body against his nose! Bozzo is particularly very concerned about Jojo that he keeps dropping a word or two of advice to the most sincere listener he could get! Pinky loves Jojo’s tennis ball tail and keeps playing with it affectionately, much to Jojo’s dismay! Shy that he is, compliments make his ears go pink! (literally!) I have often seen Pooshy comparing her creamy fur with Jojo’s pure white and sighing deeply, “Baah, Jojo! You are the first jumbo that I have seen with such lovely white coat. You are soooo cute!” and Jojo actually hides his eyes beneath his fur! :)

And finally, I tried hard and successfully brought them all together for one common snap.


Trust me, this picture is worth a million dollars! :)

unnai kandein

unnai kandein, kaadhal koNdein
eNNangaLai sidhaRa vittein, kadaisiyil
naaney sidhaRipponein..

Getting back..

Oh, how much I longed to return to them! Reachable, yet beyond reach, those alphabets brushed aside like dilapidated furniture in the attic – the delectable A to Z; arrange, rearrange, fit, refit, phrase, rephrase, indulge, celebrate, suffer..



The wind brings along with it, that soft rustle of paper and fond memories of people in waiting - Scribbling pad, frantically crushed papers, vague, erratic, never straight pencil margins down the left, shaky arrows cutting across; the inevitable, word master, the Oxford Dictionary – It’s back to the terrific game of finding THE right word, back to watch those mysterious words wave their magic wands creating patterns of infinite possibilities.

Yeah, I am back and needless to say, it feels so wonderful to be back!!

Return to innocence

I say a prayer so fervent
To crawl, to whine, to be innocent
To relive that forgotten moment
I wish, I wish I were a child again..

Honk, Honk..L-Board Here! :)

Phew!!!! After a month and a half of waking up early and religiously attending car driving classes (with my instructor's tireless, non stop talking to accompany every class), I finally landed up getting my four wheeler license yesterday!

Ah well, didn't I say some time that I wanted a Lancer? :D

Duality

When her radiant black hair looked wild like the deadly night,
When her face grew pale like the ghostly moon,
When hot tears stung her eyes like a thousand bees,
When nails dug into her skin, letting it bleed in agony,
When every pore in her body cried out in desolation,
When a fierce fury wrenched her heart,
When pangs of jealousy seized her being,
When her heart lay shattered into a million pieces,
When her soul burnt like a raging fire,
When that fierce, passionate possessiveness overtook her,
And..

When her lips quivered with love so sublime and pure,
When she knew for sure they would never leave behind a kiss,
When she learnt that this love could never be consumed,
When in missing him she missed a part of herself,
When she saw her love grow truer with every confession,
When even the pain of separation seemed a sweet trial,
When the heart that was filled with love, still felt hollow,
When they seemed like the dove’s wings that never met,
When she accepted in peace that their paths couldn’t cross,
When that calm and serenity of a cool blue sky overtook her..

I saw the devil and the Master coexist and sustain their beauties together, this duality in Love – an insanity in whose core lay the seed of profundity –The same love that evoked a devilish possessiveness, was the one that let him go, without holding back; anything.

A special day

I slapped myself hard on my cheeks, rubbed my eyes and opened them wide. Oh come on, you should be kidding me! It can’t be a year so soon! Holy Christ, it indeed is a year since I started blogging and my child is a year old today!

May be a slightly exaggerated display of excitement for, there are many more experienced bloggers around! But, given the shockingly small number of things that I pursue with such fervent passion, this is a happy moment for me.

Coming to think of it, my first experience with blogging came as a typical academic exercise. As I vaguely recollect, it was one of those simply ordinary days during my journalism course in 2004 when we were asked to create our own blogs. As with many people, I put up two posts and abandoned the poor thing then and there.

And suddenly, on Feb 01, 2005, God knows from where a small thought to revive the activity popped up! [May be I saw, my blog father, who was my classmate and the proud owner of a dozen and odd blogs then, glued to the screen writing about anything and everything, probably even including an ant that crawled near his comp..:p and oh yes, it was also Rathish’s wonderfully creative blog!]

My sis who is a month senior to me in the big blog world, initiated the commenting system on the first post, one about my mom! I was deeply intrigued by this comments thingy and I landed up on her blog leaving a comment on a post she wrote on me! And Lo, on my next post, I saw Saranyan’s comment and was thrilled beyond description! The activity kept me so mesmerised that I went on to put a post almost everyday and Feb 2005 still remains the month in which I have had the maximum posts up!

I grew to love this child so much over the days. I cared for her, adored her, gave her all that I could and felt bad if I didn’t see her for days together. Funny it may seem, but truly speaking, what started off as a mere idea of keeping record of things, has evolved into a beautiful relationship, that I have grown to refer to my blog as my child.

Through the year, I saw my thoughts, dreams and aspirations take shape into what stands before my eyes now and I feel I could just hug this blog and thank her for being so wonderfully flexible! The last one year has been so eventful and my blog holds a special place in my heart for she has been a part and parcel of everything!

The idea of trying on anything fascinated me so much that I felt like a child who wanted to splash colours across the wall and merely stare at it and feel innately happy about the sheer joy that colours can bring to one’s life. Since then, my blog has been more of a writing experiment and I have tried my hand on whatever I wanted to.

There are more reasons than one for which I am grateful to this blog. I made some really nice acquaintances through this thread and it gave me some of the deepest relationships that I would treasure and hold dear all my life. It taught me many lessons, saw me happy, found me cracking up at times and remains one of my most treasured experiences.

I take this moment to personally thank each one of you who has patiently taken the time to leave a comment. Thank you for being the wonderful audience that you have been! Thought Pallette has indeed been a spicy journey and it shall continue..

Warm regards,
AV

Little Manu's promise

“Ei Ramamurthyyyyyy!”

There she goes again! Not a day of my study holidays has passed without me hearing a shriek from that girl. That’s Manu for you, the little brat next door. Hardly six years old, she would easily give you the impression that it was she who was born before you.

Back to what I was talking about, this person who is being yelled at, is her poor grandfather. Given that even her grandfather, Mr.Ramamurthy, who retired from the railways, is acknowledged only by his first name, how can I, a mere 20 year old neighbour doing her graduation, even dream of being spared? Manu calls me Sundari, right royally, as if she had given me the name.

Let’s return to the story of our little princess. The shrieks are not uncommon on a weekday morning. The battle is for the remote control. While Ramamurthy Sir would want to watch the news bulletin at 8, Manu would want to watch Scooby Doo in Cartoon Network. “What thatha, today Scooby will drive that ghost away and you don’t want me to watch it?”

Obviously, thatha understands nothing of the world of cartoons and would beg, “Five minutes, Manu, I will just look at the headlines.”

Manu, however would have none of it. “Thatha, you don’t know anything. Do you know what detectives do? You don’t understand anything,” Of course it goes without saying that our daring princess wins the ensuing battle. The ‘Ei Ramamurthy,” comes at an instant when she would grab the remote.

And mind you, she doesn’t stop with that. The intelligent girl would thrust the daily newspaper in her grandfather’s hands and settle down before the idiot box with her plate of tiffin.

Ramamurthy Sir is an epitome of patience. He is the ideal picture of a retired man, living his life in peaceful resignation. Always dressed in a white shirt and dhoti, his freshness is only enhanced by the fragrant sacred ash that runs generously across his forehead. He would never fail to wish a brisk good morning to my dad, his neighbour, while both of them are busy picking flowers for the morning puja in their respective homes. Once in a while, he would dutifully enquire about how my studies were progressing and would mumble a sincere blessing when we parted.

“Someday, even Manu would grow up to be like you,” he would smile and continue, “for all you know, she would grow so quiet then. I really don’t know whether I can bear to see her quiet.”

At about quarter to four in the afternoon, he would finish his coffee and walk up to Manu’s school which is ten minutes distance from where we stay. Manu would come rushing out of the gate towards thatha, tell him stories of all that happened in school that day, in one excited breath that would calm down only when they reached the gate of their house, with thatha paying rapt attention, all the way. It’s such a pleasure to watch the old man walking slowly along side a small kid, two people at two extreme ends of life’s spectrum, bound together by a tender understanding called love. The calm and maturity of the aged and the excitement and frivolity of a kid, to me would seem, as one of the rarest pairs of opposites that glows with an exquisitely subtle beauty.

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

Today’s morning has been unusually quiet. I saw Manu leaving with her Dad for school. No fuss, no noise. Something ought to be wrong. While am wondering, Dad informs me that Ramamurthy Sir has been down with high fever since last evening.

In the evening, I tell Manu’s mother that I would go and pick her up from school. “Don’t bother Sundari, I will manage,” she says. “No, no aunty, absolutely no problem. You take care of Ramamurthy Sir. I am anyway bored, I will get her back from school,” I convince her.

Manu comes running, in an expectant mood but I can read the disappointment in her face when she sees it isn’t thatha but I, who has come to pick her up.

I take the lunch bag from her and we begin walking.
“Sundari, Why hasn’t thatha come? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing Manu, thatha needs some rest, that is all. Tomorrow he will be fit as a fiddle,” I tell her. She isn’t convinced. We walk back home quietly.

Back at home, she dumps her bag, washes her feet and runs towards her grandfather’s room. She stands close to him, as he lies on his bed, his hands resting on his stomach. “Thatha,” she calls out softly and pauses, unsure whether she was disturbing him. “Thatha,” she calls out once again, a little louder this time.

As I stand in a corner, I turn a passive observer. I see Manu’s little fingers holding as much as she can of thatha’s fingers. Slowly, she places her head on his chest and I see tears running down her cheeks. “Thatha,” she says amidst sobs, “You watch whatever news you want on TV, I won’t ask for the remote,” and she gently strokes his chest as she gets up. Thatha holds her hand and then ruffles her hair, “Manu Kanna, I will be alright soon,”

“Really?” she questions sobbing, “When?”
“Tomorrow,” he replies. She hugs him and runs out of the room, while the overwhelmed grandfather lets out a small laugh. I stand here, stupefied, struck by the purest form of love and innocence - a small face with large eyes, an almost unnoticeable nose, a soft, round mouth, and two small pony tails behind those tiny ears, the sweet innocence called Manu that jumped and ran out of the room now.

---------------------------------------------------------------------
It’s been a week since I witnessed that touching moment. Within two days from then, I saw grandfather and granddaughter back in action and Manu does seem to be keeping up her promise. No more s-h-r-i-e

“Ei Ramamurthyyyyyy!”

Now, wait, what’s that? Did I say no more shrieks? I am afraid not, for it seems, the battle has begun yet again!

In conversation..

She caressed the delicate, bright coloured petals of the flower in her hand. Soaked in the gentleness, the flower smiled lightly, blessed the kind hearted soul for her affection.

”What bothers you, young child?” asked the flower, taking her by surprise. “Your affectionate touch does carry a strain of sadness that you are trying so hard to shield from me.”

To which she replied,”You, my fresh blossom, never lack in kindness. Tell me, do you understand this strange feeling of mine, which is even more puzzling because of its inexplicability?”

“My friend,” said the flower gently, “If speaking your heart out could relieve you of the burden that pains you so greatly, I am delighted at the very thought of being a sincere listener.”

The flower saw her face grow pale, drained of blood.
”Why do I feel so helpless when it comes to certain things?” she questioned, her eyes lowered and lost in the shadows of her long eyelashes.

Thus replied the flower swaying lightly:

“My dear child, your words flow like softest ripples down the brook. I shall refrain from making flawed assumptions. I know your difficulty in putting forth your trouble, yet, I urge you to try and speak up.”

“Kind flower,” she whispered and stayed quiet, like she was searching her soul for the right words. “I feel incomplete because I am unable to face truth. I am unable to relieve myself from the pain that torments me.”

At this the flower fell silent, lost in thought.

She drew comfort from that silence. “Flower, it’s a void, a shallowness that I experience.”

“Suffering, my child, is it!” was the flower’s erudite response.

“Yes, yes,” she whispered softly. “Why do I have to,” she sighed deeply, “suffer?”

The flower watched and listened, as her voice choked. “I cry and brood over fate. Why should I long for what’s not in my hands, despite having realised the futility of it?”



“My dear, I would call that a self imposed suffering,” said the flower.

“But, kind flower, what am I to do? Is it wrong to desire for something?”

The flower appeared calm and still, went ahead in a voice so crystal clear. “Lady, you are so child like,” It threw a radiant gaze and continued, “Realise that when a want arises, suffering finds its way.”

Her face appeared flushed. “But why on earth?” she questioned.

“Simply because achieving what you desire is influenced not just by you, but by a million factors that lie beyond your control. If all works fine, you get what you want, if they don’t, you suffer.” came the flower’s thought provoking response.

“Flower, do you mean that suffering is the direct consequence of desire? “

“Yes and No,” it said. “Yes, for the aforesaid reason and no, because suffering as a consequence, can still be averted. In simpler terms, as much as your control plays a part in achieving your desire, it plays a much bigger role in averting suffering.”

“You confuse me, my knowledgeable blossom,” she sighed.

The flower chuckled. “It simply means that most of the pain is self imposed. It means that the consequence is a matter of your choice.”

“Is that what you called self-imposed suffering?” she questioned in a tormented voice.

“Yes. Now that you give me an impression of having gained some understanding, I shall explain a little further,” said the flower and paused to throw a sideward glance to gather signs of approval.

She nodded.

“Very well,” it said, “The choice that I spoke about is what you intend to do at two levels. One is to avoid the root of all problems. You could choose to not desire for anything and lead a life of what the world calls a saint. The second is when you desire to possess something, but you prepare yourself to face the best and worst of it. Do you understand?”

“Ahem, yes, I guess so,” she said.

“I quite don’t like that trace of doubt in your voice,” the flower replied. “Let me take your case,” it said, trying to explain further, ”You said you cry and brood over something that you desired but could never achieve. Didn’t you?”

“Yes,” she mumbled.

The flower continued breathlessly, “Now dear, think about it. Didn’t life present you a big choice there? Wasn’t it you who chose to cry and brood over it?”

“Yes.”

“Sweet friend, my sincere advice to you would be to not to lose the present, pining for what’s not going to land in your lap. May be you did deserve it, yet it didn’t happen, but should you let that come in the way of the present and the future? Ponder, child, ponder.”

She remained silent.

“There are two choices. You could burn yourself down to ashes or you could rise from them like a phoenix. The choice is absolutely yours.”

“But, flower, isn’t it easier said than done?”

“True, it isn’t easy to let go but, it isn’t impossible. Time and experience perfects an individual. You will learn.”

“You are indeed kind,” she smiled, “you made me feel much better.”

“Delighted,” said the flower, “Just a word more,” it said. “I have a lesson for you from my life. I laughed and thrilled myself when the sun’s golden rays touched down on me. I bloomed and smiled my widest when he was around. Today I lie in your hands, but I don’t regret the present, nor do I desire for what went by. Tomorrow, I will be a withered flower and day after, I would be gone. But, I am glad I made the present useful, by helping you,” said the flower and smiled.

Her eyes sparkled and she took the flower close to her lips and whispered, “I will try my best, I will, I promise.”

The flower kissed her gently on her cheek.

Do you really care for your money??

Well, do you? If you still are thinking of an answer, you better read ahead! I thought I would have a slightly different post (something non literary and kinda journalistic!) this time and I decided on Money Management.

How many of us are fully aware of what Money Management is? As much as we slog lengthy hours at office to earn the big buck that many of us make, we fail to recognise the magic that well planned investments can do for us. I personally have known, quite a few people who leave their money idling in Savings accounts without streamlining these into investment avenues that could earn much better returns. There are a gamut of options today - Mutual Funds (through Systematic Investment Plans), PPF, debt instruments, real estate and what not! Certainly, our ignorance can't come in the way of the magic that good money management can do for us!

Financial Planning isn't rocket science.. And wouldn't it be even better if you had a blogger specifically telling you how to go about managing your money in an interesting way? Do check out Money Plants!!

And I wished..

The atmosphere was electric. Colourful silk saris, the fragrance of jasmine and sandalwood paste in the air; men clad in silk dhotis hurrying about their business; a hair-raising kalyani rendered through the nadhaswaram, listeners nodding their heads intently; Laughter widespread, overjoyed expressions..

Through those rows, sitting much behind, among those pattu paavadais that appeared and disappeared in a flash, I saw her..glowing calmly like the tender flame of a candle; A docile girl carrying a beautiful smile, her eyes flickering with intelligence and the spark of her age..

Then she turned around, right in time, to catch me staring at her and a mischievous smile passed over her face. She walked down, put her hand on my shoulder and asked..
"Oh thatha, what are you looking at?"
"Nothing kanna," I said, "I was thinking you should get married soon."

"Ayyo thatha.." she smiled shyly and in a flash, disappeared.

Sarah

Ms. Sarah Parker. Yes, that is me. It’s been a day since I have moved into our lovely cottage in Yorkshire and right now, am sitting by the window watching the light drizzle outside. Dad is fabulous. When I tell you that I find my residence so amazingly beautiful, I owe it to him. The smell of fresh paint still hangs in the air. Mr. Parker knows his daughter’s tastes too well and I must admit he has made sure that I have had all of it around me. Dad has made sure he would give it all, when he has the chance, may be his last one.

Martha is busy pulling out a fresh bed sheet and spreading it over my bed. She is busy dashing in and out of the room. This time, she is carrying one of my paintings, struggling rather. Meet Ms. Martha Harper, the tall English girl with beautiful curls and dark, piercing eyes and yes, my childhood friend, and my maid’s daughter.

“Martha, need some help?” I ask her, while she tries to hang on the wall, a landscape painting that I had done about four years back.
“Nope dear, I can manage. Give yourself all your time to watch that,” she smiles and points at the glass shutter of the window by my side.

Drip, drip, drag, drop.
Drip, drip, drag, drop.
Drop, drop..Drop where?



What are these drops teaching me? That nothing could stay on forever? That someday you have to descend and drop down into chasms unknown? That someday you dissolve into oblivion?

Dated 23rd September 1968

My dear diary,

I realize my last entry has been about three months back where I have complained of a bad, bad headache. It seems like ages between that day and today, and there is a lot that happened in these days. Lots. That these ninety days seemed longer than the twenty four years that I have lived on this planet.

Within a week following that headache, I was diagnosed with a brain tumor in its advanced stage. My hands refuse to move, dear Diary. Tears are already welling up in my eyes and I feel a lump in my throat. A chill runs down my spine. Why am I falling into this mode of self pity?

I am proud to tell you that I have come to terms with it after the initial shock. It was almost like the entire world has closed in on me, when Dad told me this three months back. Dad has handled it equally well too. We just know we have to go ahead. But, tell me, am I not human too? Sometimes I can’t escape the gravity of self pity. It sucks me in, especially when you know your best times are yet to come and you may not be around to see and live it. Diary, it is even worse when you realize that you are in love..

Good night,
Sarah

It’s around seven in the morning. I decide to take a stroll in the garden for I am not able to sleep anymore. Dad left for London last night, to collect my latest test reports. There is a great possibility that Edward might drop in along with Dad, when Dad returns this weekend.

“Good morning,” Martha’s brisk voice greets me. “Isn’t the place so beautiful now?” she questions. For a moment, she is lost in her own thoughts, though she quickly realizes that and turns to me, “I will be right back with a glass of milk for you.”

I smile and turn around. Yes, like Martha mentions, the place is utopian. Lush green everywhere and the rain’s freshness sits atop that I earnestly wish I could soak myself in it.

After lunch, I insist that Martha read some poetry out to me. Frost and Longfellow today, I tell her. It is such a strain to read for ten minutes together these days. I am glad Dad agreed to my request to get Martha to be with me. It’s through her that I am living my life now, doing what I would have loved to do all by myself.

Dated 25th September 1968

Hi Diary,

I hadn’t intended to come back this early to you. I get so easily exhausted writing these days, that I take breaks and write. I can’t get Martha to write this for me. These are deepest feelings that I can convey through no one else but myself.

Just now I got to listen to some poetry. It’s so relaxing and brings me back memories of graduation days at London. Literature is awesome. No one would know that better than you, for that’s when I had gotten into this habit of writing to you.

20:00

Sorry, I had to stop that in the afternoon. I am excited, for tomorrow, Edward is here. Dad sent word that Edward is joining in. Now, aren’t you wondering who this is? Well, to give you the briefest introduction, he is Dr. Edward Johnson, the one who has been treating me, about 18 years elder to me and the man I am in love with..

Shall write more tomorrow.

Love,
Sarah

Edward is already at the table by the time I am dressed and out. Dad throws a warm smile and waves his hand. I wave back and look at Edward, who is deeply engrossed in the newspaper.

“Morning, Edward..”
“Oh,” his head pops out of the newspaper. “Sarah..”
I pour out tea for both of them.
“Martha, could you fetch that pack of cookies? I shall get the milk ready for the two of us. ”
“In a minute sweetheart.” And Martha disappears behind the curtains.

Edward is dressed in a light blue casual shirt and a pair of deep blue jeans. I take a moment to look into his eyes. What do I see? Love or am I imagining it?

I tell Edward we could take a walk round the garden.
“Sure,” he smiles and reassures Dad who fears that I am straining myself.

“How do you feel?” he asks me.
“Never better,” I smile. I can see it in Edward’s eyes – that he has read the sorrow behind the smile.

I tell him I really wished I could get back to picking up Spanish and reading some more on Latin American cultures.
Edward promises to send along books. “Or why don’t you pick them up from me, when you come for your treatment in ten days?” he suggests. “I shall collect them from the library for you.”

”Thank you Edward, you really are a big help.”
“My pleasure,” he says so sweetly.

Dated 26th September 1968

My dear Diary,

As you might have guessed, I feel elated and relaxed today. I got to spend considerable time with Edward. We spoke of nearly everything – poetry, music and he filled me in with the latest theater fest in the capital. I wish I could be around to watch it.

And guess what Edward shyly confessed today? His wife Rachel is carrying their second child. I really wish they have a pretty, pretty daughter this time, after a son. Little Dave is so cute. Edward had gotten him to the hospital when I was undergoing my first level treatment in London.

I am sure it is obvious to you now that I am in love with a married man, leading a blissfully peaceful life with a beautiful wife and an adorable family. And I am in love with him, without him even having the slightest hint about it.

Have you ever thought how it feels to be this way? I pause because of the paucity of words. It’s like holding all your dreams in a bunch, trying really hard to hold them from drifting away, but in vain; For, they do, they do drift away like weightless wisps into thin air.



Edward leaves early morning tomorrow.

See you soon,
Sarah

P.S: There is something that I want to share with you. I attach the piece of paper to this page.


Meeting Dr.Johnson

11th August 1968

I met Dr. Edward Johnson under the worst of circumstances, definitely not in the way I would have liked to. Yeah, it was at the Cancer Research Hospital when he disclosed what I know and have slowly got myself to digest, today.

I don’t wish to get into the details but I would like to recall one incident in particular which brought about this ironical turn of events. It was when Edward told me that I suffered from an incurable brain tumor and gently pressed my hand when I sat motionless. When I looked up, I was already in tears and that passing instant, when I looked into his eyes, I fell for the calm in his eyes.

I fell into his arms, that of a complete stranger and sobbed, as my Dad watched. I loved the security of his embrace as he stroked my hair and patted me. I cried I don’t know for how long and I didn’t care for his time and nor did Edward resist. He let things flow freely and didn’t give false promises. He never said that everything would be alright. Had he said that, I would have called him a blatant liar!

I owe it to Edward for transforming the experience of my treatment from being dull and lifeless to a courageous battle that ought to be fought. Every time that I had gone there, Edward made it a refreshing experience for me. He revealed great interest for music (the piano especially), for Keats and performing arts.

I grew to like him for the synchrony he brought to our conversations. I never felt like I was talking to someone different from me and yet he was different. A vibrant personality, I found him to be an extrovert, unlike me. I saw in him all that I had wanted to be myself.

And suddenly one day, I really wished I could swim in the oceanic blues of his eyes and lose myself completely, leaving the present behind. That day I knew I was in love and I felt blood rush up my veins in what seemed to be an otherwise lifeless existence.

So much for Edward Johnson. Should I regret that he walked into my life only now or feel happy that he came in at least now?

Sarah

While Edward leaves, he promises me my books again. I can read fear in Dad’s eyes and even in Martha’s. I am sure Edward has told them what he told me during our walk.

It’s a dizzy feeling to think of a moment when everything comes to a grinding halt. It’s true that mortality is the inevitable truth but even rock hard determination can’t stop some questions from popping up – what would Dad do after I am gone? Even Mom isn’t around. Isn’t it a worse punishment for him to suppress his feelings just because he wants his daughter to be happy?

I feel like running up to God and asking him another chance. Trust me, Life is so beautiful and many of us don’t realize it till an end to it, is at sight. Once that is near, the fear returns through the dark, when the world sleeps. It’s tough. It really is.

“Sarah..” Edward shakes me up. He pats my cheek and says that he hopes to see me soon. I smile and I feel I could take a plunge into the sea. I take Dad’s hand into mine and lean on his shoulder.
”Dad, I love you..”


Dated 27th September, 1968

Dearest Diary,

I feel like a child today, a child chasing fresh bubbles, each bubble a simple wish – to wake up and watch the gentle morning sun, to chase butterflies, to hug dad, to joke with Martha, to read, to write, to explore, to love Edward forever.

I hope the bubbles don’t burst….. Or.. will they?

Sarah Parker.

When it's a trip that keeps you busy

Well, that's what it is. I almost panicked and fainted when I saw that I had just two posts up in December..:o..Thanks to all the trips that I am making with my parents and my sis, the latest being a visit to Trichy, after about seven years.

An 'after a really long time' get together with cousins, and add a sweetie cutie nephew to the gang..Boy, kids are the loveliest things you can ask for..this one drove me crazy and made me fall in love..:p..

I also landed up watching two movies - "Kanda naal mudhal" and "Waah..Life ho tho Aisi". Liked the first one and found the second one kinda silly!!

And that is that..:)..What's more..Hmm..with the new year round the corner, I guess it's time to start wishing everyone - Happy New Year folks!! May the year ahead be filled with sweet surprises and let it give you countless reasons to smile..:)

From Bombay to Madras

So what if it’s raining? Vani and I today raced through in my scooty pep, as the rain hit hard on our skin and the wind rushed on our faces, dishevelling our hair. It was wonderful, to say the least, to be back driving my dear two wheeler. It is wonderful to meet my sis after about 8 months (and hasn’t she thinned down?). Well, it’s wonderful to be back home.

Happy to be back here, yes..But what’s that? The kind of suspended feeling that I woke up with today morning - a sense of still belonging to a different place and that this was may be a dream, from which I would wake up and rush to take the 9.45 local from Churchgate. It doesn’t take long to see that my being in Madras, is reality, when mom places a cup of steaming ‘Milo’ in my hands. Day before yesterday morning, I was somewhere else, there, where my heart still lies.

I am now reminded of a post that I had written on transitions, a few months back. Transitions – how they rule my life; the last one week at Bombay was one where I found myself engrossed in work, for almost 14 hours at a stretch, everyday. I am surprised, I never complained; somehow, I never felt like. The last day, I walked out, without looking back, as if it was yet another day of going back home and being back the next morning.


Despite all the work at office, I still managed time for things closest to my heart. I walked up to Marine Drive, lost myself looking at the serene sky and the placid waters. I went to my often-frequented Barista at Colaba for a last bite of my favourite brownie and a mug of hot chocolate. I watched a movie at Sterling. I walked down Colaba causeway. I stood for a moment in between platforms 1 and 2 at the Churchgate station staring at the tireless local trains that went up and down, listening to the announcements. I threw one last glance at the Oxford bookstore, a place that I had visited as if it was my second home. Days so full of ‘for one last time’ visits.

Farewell gifts, sweet hugs, moist eyes, seen yet unseen tears, good luck messages and to top it all, a mail from a person who you hold in high regard. It isn’t always that your boss writes you a mail and ones that welcome you to stay back in the organisation, even rarer. I still chose to leave them behind, saying someday I would be back, to this lovely place. The question nevertheless remains. Will I ever go back and even if I did, will things ever be the same again?

It is difficult to fall in love with places; But when you do, it’s even tougher to miss them. When I boarded the train back home, my mind was blank. But as the train pulled out, my heart grew heavier. Isn’t it true that it’s the memories that make a place beautiful? Bombay, where I saw so many of my dreams take shape, where I lived my life to the fullest..She, the queen of my Dreams; She is a tear that hangs inside my soul forever..

Holding on..

"She's a tear that hangs inside my soul forever."
- Jeff Buckley

Isn't that true with places too?

Lyrics that I fell for - III

Now, after this and this, I am tempted to list one more again and this is one song that is very dear to me. It is from the movie, 'Nilaave Vaa' set to tune by Vidyasagar. The song penned by Vairamuthu, is sung very beautifully by Chitra and Hariharan.

The concept used in this song is very interesting. The attachment or the fact that the presence of the other in one's life is indispensable, is put forth through certain wonderful facts - pairs, where you can't isolate one from the other. I can't pick out one of them and say I love this. I love them all! :)..So here it is, for record..

"nee kaatru naan maram
enna sonnalum thalai aatuven

nee mazhai naan boomi
engu vizhundalum endhi koLven

nee iravu naan viNmeen
nee irukkum varai thaan naan iruppen"


"nee alai naan karai
ennai adithaalum etru koLven

nee udal naan nizhal
nee vizhavendam naan vizhuven

nee kiLai naan ilai
unnai ottum varaikkum thaan uyir tharippen

nee vizhi naan imai
unnai serum varaikkum naan thudithiruppen

nee swaasam naan deham
naan unnai mattum uyir thoda anumadhippen" (nee kaatru..)



"nee vaanam naan neelam
unnil naanai kalandhiruppen

nee eNNam naan vaarthai
nee sollum pozhudhey veLi paduven

nee veyil naan kuil
un varugai paarthuthaan naan isaippen

nee udai naan idai
unai urangum pozhudum naan udithiruppen

nee pagal naan oLi
endrum unnai mattum saarndhey naan iruppen" (nee kaatru..)

The gift

Deep crimson, streaks of gold; a bulging cloud coddling the orange ball..Two dozen birds, miniature marvels, gliding across, with messages from heaven..

"Slowly, steadily, you descend and drop,
next to me, you go hip-hop..
Fragile bird, with a pallid wing,
what message do you bring?"

I hear a grumble; What is it? Is it you, my stomach? Nope, nope..it can't be, for I just fed you..this glass, a proof..

Ah, serene, sensual, surreal; succour, I succumb to thee; Bach and Mozart, Masters of the art! Will you forgive me, this son of thee?? - Sinful, sinning, sinner..



"And there sings a distant lark,
thro' the frills of dark..
O'ye lark in mad mood,
what d'ya sing - The Art of Fugue?"

"Ah yet another bereaved lover..," mutters the man in guard, walking by..

"O' dear sir, I ain't lost a lover,
but a lovely, beautiful daughter..
She was born this day,
but fate snatched her away.."

"I raise my violin, play her tune,
gathering memories, that are strewn..
Heavenward wind, carry with you,
this father's tune, to her, my due.."

For the bookshelf..

Saturday at Oxford
Sunday at Crossword
Four from the former
Two from the latter

Reasons are to be built
For I suffer from guilt
I say, "What for do I earn?"
Oh God, when will I learn? :(

His better half's monologue..

"All of us love listening to stories, don't we? Well, I have one to offer you too, the story of my own life, the one that I lead with this man, who the world calls my husband.."

"You know what am thinking right now? Why (the hell) do we get married?"

"No, no..now don't start on devising those sermons to be delivered to me.."

"I know why we get married..to fight and blow our tops!!"

"Before you dismiss me as one of those cynical sounding feminist with anti-men ideas, I will give you an instance..Why one, I will give you many.."

"It is one of those rare nights. We are watching a fabulous late night movie with mugs of coffee in our hands. It is pouring like crazy outside and my dear hubby could think of nothing but his car outside.."

"Oh my poor car, my poor car," he goes on and on..

"Finally I get bugged and I say, "Oh God, now go hug your poor car and sleep..""

"And you know, what all we fight for? Which channel to watch, which restaurant to eat at, whose party to attend - his colleague's promotion party or my friend's daughter's birthday party..Oh yes, we also fight on who has to wake up early and cook!!"

"Ok, let me tell you about another day. We are inside the car, waiting at a signal when I can see his eyes effortlessly following a group of five college girls, laughing and giggling. There is a smile that I see unconsciously spreading on his face. But Sir checks himself soon enough, for he knows my eyes are following him as well.."

"And then he immediately has to clear his throat, and say.."

"Now, now, dear, won't it be lovely to have girls, er.., daughters like them, so pretty beautiful and adorable.."

"and he has to crane his neck and look at them, till they disappear round the bend, till I shake him up and say, the signal is green.."

"Daughters, it seems..Sheesh!!"

"God, what do I do with him? The morning following that late night movie, I wake up to see his eyes fixed on me anxiously.."

"Well?" I raise my eyebrows in surprise.

"You know what honey..You look like a beautiful child when you sleep.."

""Amit.." I burst out, finding it hard to supress my giggles, "You just can't get this.." and I go into fits of laughter, holding my tummy."

"And then I see him looking mournful and confused like a kid.."

"Amit, what is it?"

"Suddenly he kneels down by the side of my cot, takes my hand and slips a beautiful ring into my finger.."

"Sweetie, may be there are a thousand stars in the sky, but you are the brightest.." he pauses, "but don't mind the rest.." "

"and there, right there, he gives a wide grin, while I chase him out of the room with his loud cries of "Happy Anniversary baby.." filling the entire house.."

"But you know, I should tell you..Sometimes, I find him so cute, especially when he falls asleep on my lap when I go on and on with my day's stories.."

"Love sometimes shows up most in the most trivial of acts. Like.."

"Like when he massages my feet when I cry out in pain and when he hands over those tissue papers, seeing me weep over spicy food.."

"I am talking too much about him today..All this rambling means that I am going to miss him..:(..he is going on a two week official tour..:("

"Sumi, I think I would need another bag..Where are you? Why don't you come here..Sumi!!"

"There, can you hear him??"

"Coming coming.."

"See, see tension is mounting..I need to rush now.."

"Sumanaaaaaaa..."

"Coming..oh Godddddddddddd..!"

What if..

What if I hadn't started blogging?

What if I hadn't called myself Anupama Viswanathan?

What if I had a nick name and blogged?



What if I stopped blogging now?? :O

Geeh..I am in such a crazy mood now..:D..Feel like I am almost drunk!!

Jesus, somebody help me...!!! :|

PS: Happy Diwali folks!! Shall hopefully follow this up with a sane post..:)

A story tree grows..

A branch added to Eroteme's story tree..

He thought it would be an ordinary journey. Standing behind the pillar he watched the train snort arrogantly into the station. With each snort he was reminded of his grandfather's words "You will fail in the city and return penniless"; with every heavenward whistle, he heard his cousin, "Don't worry. Come here and I will get you a job at the construction site." Now he had a 34-hour journey to prove one of them wrong, and he expected the excitement at the end of the journey. He looked at his ticket once again: compartment S9 berth 23.

Pushing his luggage under the seat, he sat close to the window. "Papa, when will you be back?" - his four year old daughter Munni asked innocently. He stared into those soft brown eyes of the motherless kid. He held her frail palms in his, through the window. "Munni, Papa will get you a nice gudiya from the city..Say tata," his sister spoke to the kid, to avoid an emotional outburst. In a minute, the train pulled forward, and Munni's little fingers parted from between his. "I need to go..", he thought, "I have to, at least for Munni's sake.."


-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
(Everything below the dashed line above should be copied and pasted with every accepted tag)

This is a Story Tree and is best nurtured as follows:
1. A blogger can add only 90-100 words (not more or less) at a time
2. All previous snippets of 90-100 words need to be copied before the new set of 90-100 words are appended.
3. Each entire snippet should be linked to the respective author (and not just the first sentence or so)
4. Characters, scenes, etc. can be introduced by an author
5. Bizarre twists, sci-fi, fantasy sequences are best avoided.
6. A tag must be accepted within 7 days else the branch is a dead branch
7. After appending 90-100, the Story Tree can be passed on to at most 3 bloggers.
8. If more than 1 branch leads to a blogger, s/he is free to choose any one of them but cannot mix the snippets of the individual branches.
9. The Story Tree is best left to grow than concluded
10. Please attach the image of the Story Tree below with each accepted tag (the link address can be copied and used).



I would like to tag Rathish, RS and Ammani, to continue this story..

To BITS, with love

Today, I talk of a small place that housed many dreams, aspirations and a single spirit that bound many people together. It housed me, a tiny dot in that big ocean.

Some months back, Amrita asked me, "You are still rooted to that place, aren't you?" That shouldn't come as a surprise. The place she was talking about, is a speck in the Rajasthan map: Pilani. That day, she was the victim of my rambling.

What would you call this - Irony? I talk of a place that has almost been shadowed, after the turn of events in my life. I came out an engineer, and now I am a writer. I think of this place and all the events linked to it, everyday, even if it means, in a trivial way. It's almost four years since I graduated and the bitsian slang still refuses to slip out of my routine..

It simply isn't easy to forget. The moments of pride that came with wearing those bitsian tee-shirts, the hungama in the trains, when travelling from Madras to Delhi and back, the group of friends that came together in the most unusual way, the first birthday at BITS with people painting your face, the corridors, the classrooms, the EEE lectures, the never ending list of tests, the mess food, the lawns, the 5 maddening days of OASIS, the spirit of our cultural departments, the innumerable treats, the blooming romances, the crushes, the trips, the laughs, the smiles, the sighs and the tears, the affection of the sweetest friend, her never ending support, the solitary rides on my bicycle round the campus, the chilly winters, the warm razais, the lazy wintry afternoons, the beautiful february spring,


the miserable summer heat, the tired PCs, the gossips, the small monthly budgets, my room, my cupboard, my table, my bank account, the home sickness, the letters (no, not mails), the night outs, the gatecalls, the professionalism that grew in you, the small successes, the heart breaking failures, the spirit to fight on, the 'just for the heck of it' pictures, the farewells,the second home, the people, their variety, the place, the place made most beautiful by the people in it..It's they who carved the beautiful memories that I cherish now..It simply isn't easy to forget.

Talk about reflections. Now, hasn't it really been a while?

Sometimes I wonder why I resist change so much, why I find it so difficult to go with the flow. Friends, with whom I have spent almost every minute of my time, now seem so distant and far away. In no time, our lives have taken totally different paths, from a period where we flowed together.

Change, it is so hard to live with. But, that's the way life works.. It's tough, but I just move on, holding these memories along..

This is to BITS, with love..

When every word counts..

Dreams. They rose like high tides, crashing against my heart, dying as silent whispers on my lips. I watched them play; Beauty, Paradox, Passion, Trust.

Finally, I spoke, you didn’t. You smiled.

Today you bend down, to place roses on my grave. I see them. Tears. My man, don't..please don't..it hurts, worse than death, sweetheart..

(Thanks RS , for the 55 word tag..)

14 days!! :O

I think I have been really unfair to my blog this time. The guilty me has been cribbing about it quite elaborately to my close friends. Anyways, I hope to put up something soon. In the meantime I thought I should cheer myself up and here is a joke that I happened to get from one of my colleagues.

"Friends of Women:

A wife was not at home for a whole night. So she tells her husband, the
very next morning, that she stayed at her (girl) friend's apartment
overnight. So the husband calls 10 of her best (girl) friends and none
of them confirm that she was with them.

Friends of Men:

A husband was not at home for a whole night. So he tells his wife the very
next morning, that he stayed at his friend's apartment over night. So
the wife calls 10 of his best friends and 5 of them confirm that he stayed
at their apartments that night and another 5 are claiming that he is still
with them!! "
Moral of the story: Men always have better friends...They will stand by you, no matter what....!!!


My comment: Ohhhhhhh...Phuleeeeeezzzzeeeee!


(With due thanks to yahoo for the smiley!! :))

Tagged, yet again!

Ok, am tagged again, by Agnibarathi..so, here I go!!

Seven things you plan to do before you die

Buy a lancer and take my parents around
Get into developmental journalism
Own a small library of my own
Write stories for children
Go on a European tour
put on weight ;)
and of course, freak out!

Seven things you can do

I can..

eat pastries
care immensely for those who I love
write pages and pages of nonsense
crib like crazy and throw tantrums
enjoy sweet nothings in life
be a patient listener
work really, really hard


Seven things you say most

I say..

Nonsense
Shut up
Please..
Very funny
Chalo, gtg
aah..amma
romba nalladhu

Seven things you can't do

I can't..

watch hindi serials
go without sleep
eat non veg
drink coffee
stay without books, music and writing
stand people who act too smart
wear heavy make-up

Seven things that attract you to the opposite sex

Intelligence
Creativity
Chivalry
Humour
6 feet height
Mischevous eyes
deep voice


Seven celebrity crushes

Narayan Murthy
Madhavan
A.R.R
Yanni
Pete Sampras
Kannadasan
Maniratnam

And let me tag..

S m i t h a
Kumari
Vinesh
Biju

Ouch..

The last few days have been tight; long hours at work, plenty of running around; The few 'in-between' minutes were religiously spent on a favourite book and of course, there has been very little sleep. And did I say that my head hurts and I miss something?

Doesn't matter, after all that cribbing, I am still grinning wide..because there is some good news.. Yeh!! I am going home!! :)

Unwanted

Am finally here, I beamed
In a world that I dreamed
When I saw grandma's lip curl
And say it is a baby girl..

Unfamiliar it all seemed
As all the men screamed
This day that I bloomed
They said all was doomed..

Where first cries were treasured
In angry voices they were buried
We want her no more, they said
It's only ill luck I bred..


I meant good to none
Save her, the only one,
One, who would stop to bother
She, my poor dear mother..

Yet, I felt her palm moisten
Momma,not this bad, bitter poison
Momma, give me your goo' food
Pray, why should I be done for good?

Minds crooked and bent, O'Gracious Death
Tell me, is this life's worth?
This world, I know, I shall never miss
Please silence me, with your kiss..

Of brownies, hot chocolate and nut crunch! :)

And add some Kurkure to it, to spice up a perfect weekend delight! I ain't a food connoisseur but

- Isn't it a pleasure when you have a slab of brownie with walnuts generously strewn all over it and when you sink your teeth into it, a stream of thick chocolate flows like nectar out of nowhere. And before you realise, the slab has melted almost magically in your mouth..

- Isn't it a joy when you have steaming hot chocolate sitting inside a Barista outlet to beat the dampness outside..And you get to smell the unbeatable aroma of roasted coffee seeds ( Yeah, I hate coffee but not the aroma!)..

- Isn't it a delight when you have a single scoop of Baskin and Robbin's "Nut Crunch" icecream in absolute silence, sitting at Marine Drive when the cool evening breeze just ruffles your hair reminding you of dad's rare yet most treasured display of affection, as though he watched his young girl merrily finish her icecream off and ruffled her hair to give her that warmth of love..

- Isn't it priceless contentment when you lie down on your bed munching Kurkure and closing your eyes, listening to Sudha Ragunathan's brilliant rendering of "Thaye Yashodha", Kalyani Menon's Thodi Alaap and Rajesh Vaidhya's one minute Veena Performance..

Bliss, in a 'nut' shell. Simple Pleasures, for which I would pay anything..:)

She..

Fluttering lashes
Dreamy eyes
Cherry lips
Flashing smile

Slender waist
Tender hands
Butter skin
Long legs

Dazzling skirt
Jingling anklets
Heavenly grace
Pretty woman



(Only left with..)

Lifeless living
Hurting shame
Unspoken word
Pricking pain

Cloudy eyes
Pearly drops
Deadly void
Cruel fate

Freezing gaze
Healing touch
Dream man
Beyond reach

Caressed dreams
Unfulfilled desires
Everyone's woman
Yet noone's..

A night to remember

It is one of those really, really rare days where the media house doesn't look like one. In a place which buzzes uncontrollably with activity, a relaxed mood seems to have dawned. While I type this, a section of the office is busy playing dumbC's and mind you, the Ed is also much a part of it!!

As for me, I am loving this feeling of "all to myself" and I have stopped to look at my blog at such a slow pace that I haven't managed in the last so many months (There is a bonus post too!). Today, the rains beat down like crazy and the whole city of Bombay is flooded, traffic's stuck and I am sitting at office; I seriously don't give a damn to how I will go back to my hostel. I will reach late, may be 12 or 1, in the night. But who is bothered? I just love sitting like this..It has been so long..

It is 10:45 now, and my friend and I plan to go out for dinner and then get back home..God only knows if we would go back. But who cares, because, isn't this a new way of life? And if not anybody else, I am crazily in love, in love with this life!! :)

Updates: Ask for dinner, McDonald's, Domino's, Subway, Barista say they have nothing left!!!

Dil Se..

Sometimes life could give you nothing but pain; it couldn't hurt worse..

For he suddenly landed from nowhere, giving all that somebody could ever give, in unbounded measures; countless smiles, sweet nothings aplenty, a warm presence all time, even without being around, leaving her utterly pampered, letting her be the lucky star, his sweet little kid..



And as the days rolled by, the sweet addiction went on a high, till a drop slowly came upfront; and when every previous day felt better than the present, when silence, emptiness and uneasiness hung over conversations, when what came without asking, now promised to come, but after a demand, she knew things were never the same again..

And what was it but her own ego, that yearned for his attention, but still refused to accept that he was being missed, with all that being left behind to hug were those warm memories, a defeated feeling and the silence that came with it all; and she, who would never blame him but herself for getting so involved, waited and waited, with all her hope, for she still liked him, immensely..

This is what happens..

This is what happens when you buy your dream Titan Raga watch and blogger lets you upload pictures..:)



P.S: This is also what happens when you don't know what to do during weekends!!

Moments to grasp

Shades of change unwound sequentially as I walked down that path, that familiar path that I had paced up and down with unmistakable precision as an eight year old. New shops, some new houses. But amongst them, stood those houses that have endured the test of time. It is a pleasure to watch things that have been stamped with an archaism that would never be victimized by the forces of modernity.

The 2nd cross street of ThiruVika Nagar, in Thirucharapalli, was more than a street to me. It had nurtured my dreams as a child. It demonstrated a freshness about it that had lasted years and beat the gap of 17 years in between. It felt like just yesterday that I had belonged to this place but I had still missed 'its presence and my presence in it' and the unique charm that came with it.

“New door no. 24, old number 72,” I quickly checked that small bit of crumpled paper that was almost yielding to the moisture of my palm. Appa had insisted that I should go and meet them this time.

“Black gates,” I smiled to myself. “They used to be hmm…green.”
I pushed the gate inward and it creaked open. As I set my foot on the stone pavement that had weathered everything in the years that went by, I looked up to that balcony right above, the thatched roof over it still intact. My entire body shook. God! Sometimes nostalgia can just offset you.

For a moment I just closed my eyes. It was the same balcony where I had stood years ago, waving good bye to my father when he left for office. It was the same balcony where I had stood, hot tears pouring down my cheeks, when they got my baby bro home, for the first time. I was no longer ‘the one’ then.

“And Aditya now..” I smiled to myself.

The veranda at the end of the footpath welcomed me with the same warmth with which it had borne my pranks as a mischievous kid. I would tirelessly climb on it and jump off it, in a loop that would end only with a tight slap from my mother.

I thought I would collapse out of excitement when I rang the doorbell.
“Vandhutten (Coming)”, the familiar lady voice came from behind the door. It hadn’t changed much, the voice, just traces of ageing.

As the door opened, I caught myself staring at this lady, who wore her sari in a ‘madisar kattu’. The vermilion, the glittering nose ring, the traditional hairdo with a string of jasmine encircling it; Lakshmi Amma, there she was and..She had aged so gracefully.

“Yaaru. Yaar venum?” (Who is this? Who do you want?)
“Ahh..Hmm..Lakshmi Amma..” I spoke in between gasps of excitement. “Do you recognize me?”
She stared with confusion written all over her face.
“Lakshmi Amma, Shailaja..,” I placed my right palm on my chest. “Shailu kutty..” I paused. “Enakku Lakshmi Amma rasam thaan venum..” ( I want only Lakshmi Amma’s rasam..)

And her face broke into a smile.
“Shailu Kutty, is this you?” She almost jumped and held my hand immediately. “How grown up you look. I couldn’t even make out,” she exclaimed.

I smiled. I was at loss for words.
“Inga parungo” (see here), she called out to her husband. “Come here, see who has come”
“Come in, come in,” she took me in hurriedly.
“Yaaru?” (Who?) a man in a white dhoti and a white cotton half slack shirt and thick rimmed glasses emerged from one of the inside rooms.

Sambu thatha adjusted his glasses, trying to register the image of a woman who suddenly landed in his abode from nowhere.

“Can you make out who she is?” Lakshmi Amma questioned, impatience marking every word. Sambu thatha just shook a no. I watched his lean frame seeking immense support from the wooden walking stick, an addition to the 84 year old man’s personality.

“Shailu kutty idhu, nenavirukko?” (This is Shailu kutty, remember?) “State Bank Ramachandran who stayed upstairs.. from Coimbatore..his daughter..”



“Oh amaam..adi vaalu..” (Oh yes, you mischievous girl!)
“Va..Va..” (Come, come). The warmth in his voice made me melt. How much I had missed it all these years. Though we had stayed upstairs, Sambu thatha’s house was literally where my existence had been. I would play, run around the house, nobody to question, most of the times eat there and fall asleep in Lakshmi Amma’s lap.

The affection that I had held for that house, for the two was special and unbounded. It was marked by innocence so typical of a child and there was no other reason to it. I loved them because I loved them.

“So, what made Shailu kutty suddenly remember these two old hags?” went on Sambu thatha with his characteristic laugh.
“Oh come on, enough of your silly jokes,” Lakshmi Amma cut him short as I deposited the sweet packets into her hands.
“Are you working?” she asked me.
“Hmm..yes, I am working for a software concern in Delhi,” I replied.
“Ohh..soft..” she stopped halfway. “That thing Raju keeps talking about..”

“Tell me how are amma and appa”
“They are good. They keep talking about you,” I paused. “Oh, Appa has retired.”
“Really? Even Chandru joins the old hag list,” burst out Sambu thatha.
I giggled. I really did. Lakshmi Amma wasn’t bothered. She almost sprang her next question at me.
“How is your brother..ahmm..what is his name?”
“Aditya,” I helped in.
“Ahnn..Adi, how is he?”
“He is studying, 2nd year engineering in Madras. He has been pestering Appa for a bike.”
“Really? Has he grown that big?” Sambu thatha questioned the very essence of mankind - growth.

It is funny the way I addressed them. Sambu thatha was thatha because when I saw him for the first time, he had grey (or as I used to call it, “white”) hair. I used to jump at my mom when she called him maama. “He has white hair. How can you call him maama. Call him thatha,” I would order.

Sambu thatha was 67 then. Lakshmi Amma was Lakshmi Amma because everyone around used to call her that way and somehow she never used to look that old then, that I would have to call her ‘patti’. Moreover, Radha akka, her daughter, used to call her Lakshmi Amma. I had liked it, felt it suited her best and let it stick on.

“So, when are you getting married?” Lakshmi Amma continued with her questions as she handed over steaming filter coffee in a “duvrah tumbler” to me and one to Sambu thatha. I had cosily seated myself on the mat alongside Sambu thatha who was resting in an easy chair. A copy of the day’s newspaper and that old transistor was lying next to him. Lakshmi Amma sat down beside me.

“I actually came to tell you some good news,” I said.
Sambu thatha who was busy tuning into odd stations, desperately in search of the “renu mani kutcheri” (the concert at 2), stopped suddenly.

In a minute, both of them were staring at me with all eagerness. “Marriage fascinates old people beyond any scale,” I thought to myself.
“Ah, well, I am getting married this September,” I concluded abruptly.
Sambu thatha leaned forward.
“Who is the boy?” he asked with brimming eagerness.
“He is my colleague at office, in Delhi.”
Lakshmi Amma’s happy look transformed into a resigned one.
“So, it is not an arranged marriage?” she asked quickly.
“Well, it is..” I paused, “Yes, I did choose him but he is like one of us,” I put it forward politely to her. I didn’t know why I was telling her that but I thought I should and hence I did.
“But..” she shook her head. “There is nothing like your parents seeing somebody for you.”
“Did you match horoscopes?” she shot out.
“Oh.ah..hmm..yes, we did, everything is fine,” I mumbled out owing to lack of preparation.
“But still..”
“Lakshmi, these days kids are very mature. They can handle things very well. I am sure Shailu kutty’s choice must be good,” Sambu thatha spoke reassuringly, patting my head.
“Love marriages are fun in their own way,” he added with a wink.
Lakshmi Amma cast a sharp look that almost silenced him.
“Ennavo ma, pathukko” (Whatever, take care), she said, turning her face towards me. Anxiety was written all over it.
“Lakshmi Amma, everything is fine,” I assured her, gently pressing her hand.
“What is his name?” Sambu thatha’s excitement hadn’t subsided.
“Vasanth, Vasant Chandrashekar”


“So, tell me, how has life been for you all these years?” I asked them.
“just going on. We have only few more years left, all I am praying for is that we should pass away peacefully without troubling anybody,” Lakshmi Amma’s voice was low.
“Enna Lakshmi, you don’t know what to talk,” Sambu thatha intervened.
“Thatha please, let her talk”
“Illai Shailu kut..,” I looked up at Sambu thatha. “Shhh..”
“Lakshmi Amma, what happened?”
Suddenly Lakshmi Amma’s voice mellowed down.
“Nothing. Sometimes it is so tough to live when you grow old,” she looked up and blew her nose.
I took her hand into mine and looked intently at her.”Ennachu?” (what happened?)
“Nothing is particularly wrong Shailu kutty. We have everything that we want. We have this house, we have thatha’s pension as a steady income and we do our pujas and prayers regularly.”
“Hmm…”
“But..” she paused, “Sometimes there is loneliness, a lack of direction in life when you turn around to see that there is no one around to share your happiness. When we fall ill, we have nobody to fall back on. It is true that we have each other to confide things in but I am missing the joy of living together,” By that time, her first tear had already made its way out.

I let her cry. I didn’t assure her, say things would be fine. Sometimes silence and the mere act of listening could heal wounds much more than words of consolation, so did I believe.

“Sambhu thatha, what about Raju anna and Kumar anna? Where are they?”
“They are both in America, all well settled,” he paused. “Raju has two daughters and Kumar has a son. They come to India with their families once in two years.”
“Hmm..”
“Radha is in the U.K. Seeing her has become a rarity too,” continued Lakshmi Amma.
“Sambhu thatha, don’t mind me asking, but didn’t you want to stay with your sons?”
“No,” his voice was fierce this time. “No,” he repeated, relaxing a little bit.
“Kumar didn’t even talk about it, Raju just made a mention. He told us that we could come along if we felt like.” His voice choked.
“What is this, a formality? Why should parents suddenly become strangers and be treated this way?” the question shot out from him, with all the heaviness of a deeply pained heart.
“I refused. I really can’t spend my life in a country that I don’t know. I am too rooted to this place, to leave it behind. Probably, I can’t blame them too. Their lives have taken that course and I can’t stop it. Once Raju had a chance to come back to India for good. I asked him, but..” Silence.
“I think I just have to accept this,” he spoke his heart out. I knew it was frustration that made them talk and not the hate for what their children did.

Lakshmi Amma was silent. “I think when things become unmanageable, we would go to an old age home. I am praying ambaal she doesn’t take us that far.”

That moment, I understood what emotional torture the two went through. Two people, whose love meant so much to me, were caught in the clutches of emotional insecurity and my heart swelled with pity. I cried; cried within.

In the meantime, Lakshmi Amma had moved into the kitchen and come back with a plate of rasam saadham. (Rice with rasam).
“Have this,” she handed the plate to me. I couldn’t remember how many times I had smiled but I did, yet again.

The rasam had not lost its taste and its aroma one bit. It was just the same. Have you ever experienced a sense of travelling back in time, that the five senses can give you? It happened to me this time. I was back to have Lakshmi Amma’s rasam.

“You know, my grandchildren are so naughty,” she said, sounding chirpy again.

“Kumar’s son is so mischievous. Last time that they were here, he suddenly disappeared out of the house. We had such a tough task locating him. He was hiding behind the well, in our neighbour’s backyard,” Sambhu thatha added with great excitement. “These kids, naughty, very naughty.”

And then they spoke about Kumar anna’s wife and how Raju anna’s wife could drive a car. “It seems they don’t wash vessels, nor does a servant maid do it. Looks like there is a machine for all that. Times have changed so much,” she sighed.

I burst out laughing and Sambhu thatha was giggling quietly. The innocence was too sweet, and I knew their hearts were lighter. No qualms, except for those momentary ones, their love and concern for their children and grandchildren was unbiased and absolutely selfless.

By the time we had finished talking about my childhood pranks and everything else, the birds were getting back to their nests and the sky had turned a reddish orange, signaling the arrival of twilight. It was time for me to leave.

“I don’t feel like letting you go, it was so nice talking to you. I didn’t feel the time pass” Lakshmi Amma said looking at me earnestly.
I stood silently.
“You won’t forget us no, after you get married?,” she asked with grave concern in her voice.
“Ayyo, enna idhu Lakshmi Amma, how can I do that?”

“Shailu, forget her, she is like that only,” Sambu thatha chipped in his comment, “May God bless you with a happy and peaceful married life,” he said, placing his hand on my head.
“You should bring Vasanth here, after your marriage,” Lakshmi Amma said. Sambu thatha turned around, taken by surprise with that mocking smile on his face.
“You both should definitely come for the wedding,” I urged. “Please, I will be very happy.”
Lakshmi Amma pressed my hand. “We will try our best, but our blessings are always there.”

As I reached the gate, I turned around, took a look at the aged couple for whom the best gift I had left behind was the smiles on their faces, which they seemed to have forgotten for days together. For me, it was a feeling of satisfaction that I had made a very small difference to the lives of two people, at least for a day. But the bigger loss was, the helpless feeling at not being able to lend a hand further. I waved at them, walked away carrying beautiful memories and also an aching heart.

Lyrics that I fell for - II

Hmm..how about this? I would possibly call this a running series; this is an add on to an earlier post that I had published..This one is from "Pudiya Mugam" and the song is 'Kannukku Mai Azhagu' ..After great efforts of squeezing my brains in the morning to recollect the lyrics of both male and female versions of the song, I guess I was successful..Wanted to put it down before I forgot the lines again! :)..One of Vairamuthu's best and timeless works and something that I would cherish all my life..(Love those lines in italics).

The Male Version: (sung by Unnimenon):

kannukku mai azhagu
kavidhaikku poi azhagu
kannathil kuzhi azhagu
karkoondhal penn azhagu

Ilamaiku nadai azhagu, mudhumaikku narai azhagu
Kalvarku iravazhagu, kadhalrku nilavazhagu
nilavukku karai azhagu, paravaikku siragazhagu
avvaikku koon azhagu, annaikku sei azhagu..(kannukku)

vidikaalai vinazhagu, vidiyum varai penn azhagu
nelukku natrazhagu, thennaikku keetrazhagu
oorukku aarazhagu, urvalathil therazhagu
thamizhukku 'zha' azhagu, thalaivikku naanazhagu.. (kannukku)

The female version (sung by P.Susheela):

The style of writing is changed a little bit here..(In the charanam the word 'azhagu' occurs only once in a given line, unlike the male version, where it repeats twice)

kannukku mai azhagu
kavidhaikku poi azhagu
avaraikku poo azhagu
avarukku naan azhagu

mazhai nindra pinnalum ilai sindhum thuli azhagu
alai meendu ponalum karai konda nurai azhagu
imai kottum vinmingal iravodu thaan azhagu
ilamaaran kannukku epodhum naanazhagu..(kannukku)

anandha manjathil avizhndhalum kuzhal azhagu
adayala muthathil azhindhalum pottazhagu
pennodu kadhal vandhal pirai kooda perazhagu
ennodu nee irundhal irul kooda oar azhagu..(kannukku)

Again, With due credits to the lyricist and whoever owns the copyright:)

You may wanna check out..

How would it feel to have a mag brimming with creativity, in your hands? Sounded great to me..You may want to check out this interesting idea, called Alvibest, that is brewing up..

Boondhon se baatein

“Giant gray clouds shrouding the usual blue of the sky, so loaded that they would burst down any moment with a million raindrops” – It is time to witness the monsoons of Bombay and the last one week has seen me scurrying through the rain hit roads of the city, experience the way a routine needs to be tweaked up to fit the monsoon’s requirements. Come whatever may, you need to move on..

Ropes come up within homes to hang those washed clothes. And the clothes are ‘uncomfortably’ dry with a ‘doubt’ of dampness still clinging on, clothes which you wear with the warmth of a hot press, almost become cold and soggy by the time you reach office. The point - pull out the oldest of your clothes and move on unmindful of what the rain does to you!

The shutters come down on buses and you view the rain-hit world outside through the window glass. The innumerable slums, on the way, almost falling prey to the devastation, still stand up and the inmates wouldn’t dare to stop; their lives need to move on.

Rains have an effect on me; they make me go nostalgic. The bus journey till office is filled with moments from the past – the way two years back, I rushed to pick up my vehicle from the dealer, giving a damn to the rain, how I used to look out of the window at my office in Bangalore and regret that the vehicle was getting drenched. How at school, I would long for a day’s holiday when the rarity called rains hit Madras, how a couple of my friends and I ran out to get drenched in the first rains of Pilani and..

Complaints still exist, but brushing them aside, today a small boy, and his gesture made me smile to myself. Two pups were running playfully across the road, and as the bus made its way through, the boy just lifted the two and pushed them into his so called ‘home’. It was wonderful.

Now at office, all I feel like doing is to settle down with a mug of hot chocolate and listen to some great music. But what is blaring now is the TV set next to me; the channel’s life goes on as well!!

This post is dedicated to that wonderful rain that is lashing out outside, settling a layer of moisture on the windows. The rain made me write, (setting aside my work) after a long time!!

The post also goes out to that little boy who enjoyed the rains so much (to my envy) and saved those two sweet pups!

Am tagged, So..

At a moment when the blog starts wearing an archaic look, two people are sweet enough to let me know that I have been tagged. Rathish, Thanks! Am honoured. Anispice, thanks to you too! Oops, I missed Saranyan, who has also tagged me!

So, here is a quick (and rather short) list ..

No. of books I own:

Actually no idea, rather too lazy to count, got some here and many at home!

Presently Reading:

- “Good Muslim Bad Muslim – Islam, the USA, and the global war against terror”
by Mahmood Mamdani (one that i recently got too!)

- “Investment Analysis and Portfolio Management” by Prasanna Chandra

In the pipeline:

- “M.S, A life in music” by T.J.S George
- “The Remains of the Day” by Kazuo Ishiguro
- “Vision of the greatest mystic unveiled – A scientific perspective to the wisdom of Sri Ramana Maharishi” by Dr.G.K.Pillai

Recently Read:

-A collection of “Bharatiyar Kavidaigal”
-“The (Un)common sense of Advertising” by Sanjay Tiwari


Some of my favorites:

“Sophie’s World” by Jostein Gaarder
“Fountain Head” by Ayn Rand
“Small Remedies” by Shashi Deshpande
“Jane Eyre” by Charlotte Bronte
“Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus” by John Gray
“Computer Networks” by Andrew S Tanenbaum
"Digital Image Processing" by Raphael C. Gonzalez and Richard E Woods (for the love of that course that I did)


And let me tag:
Mrgonsings
Vijay Mo
Agnibarathi
Prabu Karthik

Eroteme/Krish had a lovely list in my previous post. But these guys have been tagged already. They have a nice list up in their blogs!

A month as a journalist

Mark this day. It has been a month into experiencing sea change. Yesterday, the bank sends me an sms that my salary is credited. I am not too excited but this is my first salary as a different professional.

From staring at code windows for hours and hours together, now my closest interaction with software remains MS Word and a little bit of backend to upload stories.

For the last two weeks, I have moved into a new team. And that reminds me, the last time I blogged was the day the shift came. Smitha's comment in my previous post got a silly smile on my face. How irresponsible of me!:)

Work couldn't get more rewarding and exciting. I have been offered the best of opportunities, despite the fact that I am almost new to this entire spectrum of reporting. My ignorance is pardoned and support comes big time. It is a great feeling having done three soft stories that carry a byline to my credit and also having attended two press conferences ,within a month of joining.

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Press Conferences. You get the royal treatment there. I almost felt like a child gaping at the treatment and all the glamour that surrounds it. It is good to be a beginner, because you can ask dumb questions!

The first one, I missed out on the good lunch because.. (Oh don't ask! The tensions of attending your first official press conf!). The second one that was yesterday, I didn't repeat the mistake and I ensured that I hogged on the three different desserts that they served, between all that stuff on a mutual fund launch. Ain't I learning?
******************************************************************
And then your mobile keeps buzzing as financial consultants and big shots from banks try to reach you and confirm on the interviews and emails. Thanks to the tag, you almost get what you want for your story. At ACJ, I remember how I struggled to get my sources to talk!!

*********************************************************************

I am tired of seeing raised eyebrows. "Oh! So what did you do before your ACJ course?" The answer received a million different responses - "Wow!", "That's interesting!", "You are f***ing mad!!", "Why the shift?" (and I am tired of singing like a tape recorder for this question!). The new kid in the block (well, am new too, but she joined ten days later!) asks me, "Oh so you are the one?" The HR told us during the induction that they have an engineer from .... around. Boy, I almost went red!!

And then the HR manager walks in. She puts her hand around me and asks me, "How are you? Are you settled into this place? Are you liking what you are doing?" and I smile back gratefully, "Yeah, everything is fine, really!!" And What is more, I am busy running away from attention!! :)

I have loads of fun with my team lead. The other day, the backend threw some weird javascript error. "You are an engineer, fix it no?" she said. The next instant, I had a couple of debug windows open in front of me. "D, the problem is here" and I pointed to that yellow block and she burst out laughing! And we are still trying to fix it!!

I am sounding so kid like. Well, well, this is not how journos sound. But that is ok. First this is my blog and second, I am not doing a business report!!


Oh damn, my bus would have gone!!!!!!

Hanging around in a bookstore..

I had a blissful weekend, and that still doesn't convey the extent of fun I had over the last two days. It's a nice feeling to live through the first few days after you have kind of settled down in a place. It is that time in which a city or a place reveals itself, with a sense of immediacy and you just flow with what it has to offer you.

Of the many things that I did, (amidst being busy visiting Barista and McDonalds), I dropped in at the Oxford Bookstore at Churchgate. The nearly 90 minutes that I spent there, I so completely enjoyed myself. It felt like ages, since I had visited a good bookstore, stayed around for a considerable amount of time and soaked in the scent of fresh, new books. I almost felt like opening my arms wide and hugging the whole bookshop!! (but i realised I was too thin for that!!:))

The last time, I remember having shopped good deal of books, was the month I quit my previous job and the ten months, in between I had felt so tied up, not having visited one bookstore and spent heart out..;)

What or why this great love for books? I can never define that in exact terms. It is the fascination for the written word, the sheer joy that the world of words has to offer.

Recently, one of my colleagues at office, asked me how I spent my free time. "Do you go to discotheques?" was the question. I answered very point blank, that I read books and I listened to lots and lots of music. A very cliched set of hobbies, some may think, but they make a world of difference to me.

Enough reason for me to have found the bookshop experience, amazingly refreshing that I also managed to secure a membership with the store. All set, the Bombay book reading chapter begins with "The Da Vinci Code" by Dan Brown..:)

Oh by ways, how about some inputs? Are you a book lover too? What has been a book that you really, really enjoyed reading pretty recently? Do leave the title/the author's name/the category (fiction or non fiction etc..)!

I call this a "filler" post!

This post has been overdue. I can blame it on two things - one, my laziness and two, the tiring hours of travel in Bombay. Having spent 12 days in this city, I think I am the biggest moron, who hasn't stepped into the local trains still. People who have known Bombay have been viewing me with an element of surprise - "Something is terribly wrong with you."

Having landed here with great plans of finding an acco (read accommodation, henceforth) in the first weekend here, I (namesake/for the heck of it) checked out a hostel acco and left it at that. What do I do? I almost melted at the suggestion (I prefer to call it a sweet request) of my uncle and aunt, to continue to stay at their place. What's more now? I am happily getting used to the comfort of a fridge, washing machine, TV and a neat audio system!! :). I wonder where all this is taking me!!

And of course, how could I forget the good food? Off late I have been eating pretty well - I don't know if it is the place that has done the magic or it's my aunt's unrelenting effort to keep pushing plates and plates of goodies! :)

Two things make up my day otherwise - travelling and work. The first few days that I was getting used to the bus routes, I successfully managed to get down two, three stops before the scheduled stop, despite supposedly being "hindi literate"..Is this what they call learning with experience?? ;)

Work - yeah work, hmm..ah, uhh...Oh come on, it's been just one week! But I actually attended two edit meetings!:D

My cousin, who asked me whether I was going to come up with a "Bombay" narrative - well, a huge chunk of the puzzle is missing!! There isn't an Arvindswamy like guy around, to complete the romantic bit..:(. Probably, he stays at the Indian Express office and I still gotta check that out! ;)

Bombay is yet to reveal itself to me or rather, I am yet to discover the place. It all is a matter of time and I propose to begin exploring next weekend. For now, the Bombay I know of is that which exists between home and office. There is a world beyond that, that still needs to be discovered..

What Bombay has to say..

Lots actually...But, am piling on to my relative's comp for a few minutes..I haven't checked my mails for three whole days!! After the convocation on May 3rd evening, I landed in the big city on 4th morning, reported for work on 5th, saw a live newsroom that has left me dazed..

Lots to see, lots to learn, and lots to blog..I hope i get to do that soon..:)