Long time..no see!!

I am pinching myself...I am actually sitting and posting something onto my blog:). Ah, not bad! It feels like getting back home after a long time..

It is that time of the course where you have scary reminders coming up on the notice boards - "Attention, students doing economics elective.." blah blah..submit your assignments by such and such date; The college would dutifully remind us to turn in assignments to clear the course..:(..and you suddenly realise you have all the things coming flying at you. you wishfully hope you forgot that something called sleep existed and unfortunately, it would keep coming back to you the most, when you don't need it!!

Ok, only few more days, my dear blog, don't you feel abandoned..coz' I will be back soon and I love you too much to leave you unattended!! :)..Bye, bye for now!
*************************************************************

P.S: Just a thing to mention, all people who had given their opinion on brand India, have been acknowledged in my "rushed up" dissertation.Thanks people! :)

How many words??

The dissertation mania has caught on and nobody at college acknowledges you with a “Hi, how are you?” anymore; it is just a “Hi, how many words?”. This dissertation fever gobbled up my entire weekend and my work was growing at less than 50 words per hour on Saturday and was literally driving me mad.

Books and papers scattered all around, some stuff downloaded from the net, I sit like an idiot here, staring at all that is lying around and trying to gain sense out of all the intellectual ‘wealth’ (well, not actually, but the attitude seems to be reversing because of over indulgence in the act of gaining knowledge!) that I possess. Ok, this guy says this, that guy says that and after all that, I wonder, “Why should I brand India?” and ultimately, “What is branding??”.:

Type a sentence and I go to Tools -> Word count. “10 words”, MS word shows with earnest. Oh hell! Just ten words, but I spent five minutes writing it!! This is total inverse relationship between time spent and the final outcome! Dazed, I continue; this net is a huge temptation. I vow to myself to stick to google and not go anywhere else, no not even to my blog. I gave myself very few allowances, for the last three days – “You shall visit your blog only to see comments and type some lines, nothing more, do you understand??” And mails, not more than two per day! “Dissertation, dissertation..” Oh dear, this is sad!

After I finish a paragraph, in what seems like ages, I would think I felt tired and I needed a break. A slight desire would pop up there, to probably sneak into yahoo messenger to catch up with someone online or just drop in five lines of mail to somebody saying, “Boy, am going crazy!” or just pick up my phone and call someone, whom I haven’t spoken to for like days together! I would think I am feeling sleepy, switch off my monitor, tell my mom to wake me up after 10 minutes and those 10 minutes would just vanish and I would ask for another five minutes. Now after all this, when I am done, if I had all the time in the world to sleep, I am dead sure I would just be sitting and blinking.

At college, the lab is a sight of utter confusion and tension, people walking in, walking out, and I would wonder inside my head, how many words these people would have typed. (One girl told me it is 8000 over and I almost shrieked and fainted!). Look at me, such a donkey, I have struggled and managed a bare 4000 odd words and I still have thousand more to reach the minimum mark of 5000. I already feel like an exhausted athlete running with all my might towards the finishing line!! Sigh!

Somebody says the deadline is 5PM Monday and there is a word around that the petition that all of us signed for date extension has reached who it was supposed to have reached. I had signed it for solidarity, (sometime mid last week, VERRRY confident that I would wind up work neatly) and now it looks like I join the extension gang in its truest sense.

Tools -> Word count, dissertation, chapter 5, 276. Time spent 45 minutes. (Time spent brooding, don’t ask!). I am thinking and trying to be original.

Tools -> Word count. Size of this post, 507 (already? I feel like I have more to type). Time spent - 7 minutes.Not bad. But I am being original here too. Wonder what the difference is? ;)

Ok, that is my break! I take a deep breath, decide all good things should come to an end now and all bad things will also come to an end soon and I am opening my other window – “I – n-d-I-a-n a – r-c-h-I-t-e-c-t-u-r-e c-h-a-r-m-s .........." (Charms?)

Answer and help!!

I am gonna make this really short.
Ok, I have a question.This is for one of my assignments that I am working on right now.
--------
When you think of India, as a country, what sort of an image does it invoke in your mind? Let me make that clearer.Usually, When we think of Japan, we think of technology and when we think of Italy, we think of fashion?? So, what do people relate India with? This could be a positive or a negative image.

Also, If any of you (esp. those abroad) has any idea of what foreigners think of India, do let me know.

It would be great if you could also add a line on whatever makes you think, India stood for 'that' particular thing.

-------
I just thought it would be great to have some feedback through my blog apart from other information that I have collected. All help/answers deeply acknowledged. :)

Umm…yummy, yummy!!

I am just back from a walk round our complex. It is rare that I do such good things to feel fit. The reason today, however is quite different. After an uneventful but hectic day at college, I came back home at around 8:30 PM. Today is Karadaiyan Nonbu (a function) and the moment I landed at home, amma was waiting. After I washed my hands and feet, she made me sit in the puja room and tied the nonbu charadu (a yellow colour thread) round my neck. The customary namaskaram sessions followed. First thatha and patti, and then amma and appa (with the usual sarcasm that I show;)).

And then was time for dinner. It was one of the most delicious dinners I have had in the last few days. This is indeed a rare occurrence, me saying that I ate well, given the pathetic eater that I am. Interesting menu there. First, I had two pieces each of Vella adai and Kaara adai (Imagine them to look like medhu vadaas, the difference being that vella adai is made of jaggery and kaara adai is made out of rice). Ah yes, there was also a generous helping of Vennai (butter), as I rejoiced every mouth of that adai that went in.

Now, to the usual course of dinner – there was amma’s famous thakkali rasam. (She is brilliant with it, I should say) with thayir pachadi (raitha) for a side dish. Fine slices of thakkali (tomato) garnished with fresh looking coriander leaves and of course kadugu thallichufied (for the lack of a more fitting English word, I resort to using Tanglish), the pachadi was a delight!

While I was feeling almost three fourth full and contemplating on making the move, my mom, pushed in a copious amount of rice into the plate. As I nibbled away happily, the verum saadham (plain rice) that I am so fond of, amma was back with buttermilk. I ain’t an ardent fan of moar saadham but today there was a nice side dish. Maangai thundam!! I was delighted raw mangoes were back in Chennai. Neatly cut and with a right amount of chilli powder and mustard, Maangai thundam was the gateway to eater’s heaven. After all that, I got up with great difficulty, quite amazed at what I had achieved for the day’s quota of food. Amma was amused and she had to say, “at least with this reason, try walking.”.Too much hmm…..

Now am back after the walk and I thought thrice before typing this down, coz I would probably see people steaming (first my sis, hey – I thought of you when I ate the food, ok?). Couldn’t resist. Now, before people pounce on me… am off!!!

Err… Blogger errs!

Yesterday morning, I opened my blog, clicked on the comments and I got this alarming message, “The blog that you are looking for is not found” or something to that effect and it gave this huge button, that said, “Back to dashboard” and I dashed back to my ‘dashboard’. Strangely enough, it wanted me to login to see my own comments!! How funny!

I thought something was terribly wrong with my blog. Panic!! Worse still, it was intuitions coming true for me!! Just the day before, I was wondering what would happen if the entire blogger system crashed. Mo assured me it wouldn’t happen and I felt safe and secure! And now, it seemed to be coming true! I have seen Orkut going down many times, cutely responding, “Bad bad server. No donut for you.”, but Blogger, this is the first time! (not that I have too much blogging experience, but still..)

On Mo’s advice again, I mailed blogger support too, telling them I can’t comment on my own blog and others as well. I also got my sis to do some R & D on it, at 12 in the night (S’pore time!)

Oh well, in between all that confusion, I managed to do something useful too. I finally (FINALLY) managed to add links to other nice blogs that I visit. (Blogfather, aren’t u happy and proud of me??).

Meanwhile, blogger support mailed me back sweetly today morning and I just couldn’t help appreciating the prompt response. The mail below,

“Hello,

Thank you for reporting this error. We are working on getting the comment
pages up and running normally again as soon as possible. We apologize for
the inconvenience.

Sincerely,
Blogger Support”

Thankie blogger, the comments do seem to be back!!

Standing and Praying:)

This is strange. A mere glance at a book of short stories by Rabindranath Tagore, at home, sent me on a flashback session. Let me explain. I thought of Tagore, then I thought of the National Anthem, and then I "flashbacked" to the prayer sessions at schools. It brought to my mind, so many memories of those morning assemblies.

I have been through seven different schools from LKG to class twelve and at every place, I had this huge task of learning the assembly prayer songs, as a new comer. The only one thing that was common was the National Anthem. And believe me, every school that I went to, the last part of "Jaya hai" would go totally off track, "abaswaram" to say it in music parlance. The pitch of some people wouldn't rise beyond a certain level (and it isn't their mistake, of course!) and while some will be on tune with the "Shruti", the rest would almost sink it to a level of their comfort. The result, well..! It was also the time, when we used to pledge, "All Indians are my brothers and sisters" and some smart alec from behind would murmur, "except one..!"

While we sang the prayer, there used to be the late comers outside, standing and peering through the grills of the huge main gate of the school, wondering how their day would begin, probably 5 rounds around the school ground, or a nice whacking from the PT teacher.

The other interesting part used to be the check whether you were in "full uniform" or "non uniform" (What words to coin?!). I remember in DAV, where we used to have prayers only on two days, I would polish my white canvas shoes frantically those mornings, cut my nails. There were some girls, who would come to class with shoe polish and nailcutters, worse still, some of them used to polish up using white chalk pieces!!

And once the prayer was over, we had the appointments (the captains/prefects/house captians) dutifully sharing responsibilities. Once the first person checked the condition of your shoes, you needed to deposit your palms into those of the next checking "appointment" and hands just used to glide into theirs for checks.

Talking about appointments, I can recollect some of my own experiences with it. Not at many occassions, but I have felt great pride in exhibiting some leadership. During first standard at MCTM, I cried and made a big fuss at home about going to school and my dad had to come and speak to my class teacher. Mahalakshmi "miss" the next day, made me the I-B leader who would lead the students in a line to the prayer session! Crazy?! That's how I was. Then again in class five at Chinmaya Vidyalaya, I used to stand in the front in the assembly and we had this really strange practice. We had to come forward, salute and shout, "Class five - C, 32 present, 2 absent!". I can't explain how proud I used to feel!

There were also the "thought for the day"s and news and prize announcements. It was indeed great fun to have been a part of all this. It would fill me with so much of excitement and pride!:)

And of course, how could I forget those silly people who would faint in the assembly because they haven't had food? (not that I am a great eater, but I never used to skip breakfast;)). Everyday, there used to be at least 3 cases of people fainting and teachers would rush in and drag those kids to the labs (usually, chem and phy labs where we used to have long benches to sleep on!)

Eventful, if something has to be said about prayers in schools. It gave me a sense of belonging to the school, whichever one I studied in, the sense that I was part of this huge group and an arena where you would see laurels and feel proud. It was also a place to giggle and see some funny experiences. To quote one, it was my first day at Seventh Day Adventist (SDA) in Tiruchengode (a rural area near Salem). I had joined class three and was standing in the prayer, the first one in that school. Old students were curious and excited. One of them looked at me and said, "Hey this is not the way you stitch your pinaform (for pinafore!)" and she asked me, "What is your name?". "Anupama", I replied hesitantly. "Anu enadhu?"(Anu what?) she asked and not waiting for an answer, continued, "Uh! what a strange name!" (in Tamil). Ah, Prayers...!

Speaking of unheard voices..

Looks like it’s the docu movie season. Last Saturday, I got a chance to watch Anand Patwardhan’s “War and Peace”, with the filmmaker himself, in college. Today again, I had been to the private screening of docu films by Arun Vaidhyanathan, in Chennai. (Acknowledgments again: REFLEX, thanks for letting me know). More on this in tomorrow’s post.Let’s go on to today’s post, which is fairly long!But do read on..as I always say;)
****************************************************************
Today, the 8th of March is celebrated as world Women’s day. While all the fanfare that accompanies the day (in celebrating womanhood) is something to feel happy about, I just couldn’t help thinking about the thousands of young girls and women, who are faceless and live the most miserable of lives, in India and many other developing countries.

“Kutty”. This is a tamil movie that I saw in Jaya TV on Sunday. The film literally shook me up for its powerful portrayal of certain grave social problems plaguing this country. This movie won the special jury award for the director, Janaki Viswanathan, in the national awards for 2002 and also the award for the best child artiste, played by Shweta.

“Kutty” is the story of a 10 year old girl called “Kannamma” who hails from a very poor family in one of those many, many villages located in Tamil Nadu. Kannamma loses her father, who sells pots for a profession (who else but the versatile Nasser), in an accident and her mother barely able to sustain herself and her daughter, decides to send the girl to a well-off family in Chennai, as a caretaker and servant maid. The girl, who is taken care of very well, by the husband and wife (played by Ramesh Arvind and Kausalya respectively) there, is ill treated by the man’s mother (played by M.N.Rajam) and his son (nearly the same age as Kutty, as Kannamma is so called). Barring a very few bright moments in kutty’s life, she is unable to live there, decides to run away home, only leading to a shocking climax. The guy who spots her at a “Maligai shop” (grocery shop) near her apartment tricks her into flesh trade, by deceiving the innocent girl that he was actually sending her home. And there the story ends.

Kutty sends strong messages to the audience and these are certain problems that the society just cannot ignore. Firstly, the movie highlights a tendency of certain urban upper class members to look down on the servants and treat them in a demeaning way. It is not a generalisation when I say this, but we can’t rule out this caste differentiation, all together.

The next really significant point that the movie makes is the serious problem of child labour that is widely prevalent in the country despite strong laws condemning the act of employing children. There is this particular scene in the college where Kousalya works – the lecturers describe the mental agony of employing children as servants and also the irony that, they as the shapers of the society aren’t doing anything to alleviate this serious problem. During that time, a boy of about 12 years of age, comes and serves them all tea. The paradox is brought out very well.

Following child labour, the other burning problem that the film addresses is that of illiteracy, especially for girl children. This theme almost runs through the length of the movie. For instance, there is the scene where Kutty gets so hurt by the ill treatment of “periya amma” that she runs to the grocery shop, owned by Vivek and begs him to write a letter. The sequence is wonderfully enacted by Shweta and Vivek. The girl is so desperate that she promises her mom (in the letter), she wouldn’t trouble her and ask for expensive food, that she would do all house work without a fuss and still drink porridge. She ends by saying she is unable to stand the torture at this place. All this with a flurry of emotions that the owner of the shop is dumbfounded and overwhelmed by the girl’s situation. When he asks for her the postal address, she just mentions the name of the village and says it is near Madurai, where she reaches by bus. When Vivek asks for the street, door number etc., she says, “Uncle, I don’t know anything, my parents didn’t let me study” and continues innocently to describe the place saying, there are lot of trees, rocks, here, there..What A subtle portrayal of a burning issue. Amazing! That was one point in the movie, where I broke down.

The interest to learn but the lack of a chance, is obvious in scenes where Kutty would eagerly pour into the books of the son of her employers and get beaten up by the fellow. The last scene, she believes that she is going back home, but as the camera moves up, you see that the train is headed to Mumbai from Chennai. Lack of literacy again, isn’t it serious? While we are left to ponder over the fate of the innocent girl, she actually sits in the train and dreams and smiles over the ‘hypothetical’ situation of going back home. The movie ends with a song, “Enga pora thangachi?” (Where are you going sister?)

There is something that is very basic to all these problems, the very core of it all – Deprivation that is deeply rooted in this country. Deprivation isn’t easily obvious, to people especially in the upper layers of the society. Poverty is definitely a serious cause of most of the social ills in India, where the high order benefits announced at the top level and any big gains made, do not trickle down to the poor and reach the lower strata of the society.

The film only strengthened my belief and insistence on the need for basic education for girls from poor economic background. If only they are educated, it would do them so much good. It would only bring down the number of girls like kutty, who are finding their ways into red light areas, unaware of what is happening to them. All this is easier said than done, and it cannot happen overnight. It needs a transformation in attitude towards women in so many sections of the society, especially the lower ones. And I believe the media has a really big role to play in the process. I hope that would give those unheard voices and faceless people, a worthy direction.

I was lucky to catch this!

As I was "googling" today, I ran into this article that combines three aspects (well I seem to be obsessed with this number 3, oh, even my DOB adds up to 3!) spoken of in my blog, at different points in time. Ok! They are matrimony, special children and the fact that we are really lucky to be what we are. Please do check out the article here. It is an article from The Hindu Business Line's archives. I would love to hear what you feel about it too. That's it for now!

Lyrics that I fell for

Tamil again. It is the title song from K.Balachander’s “Punnagai Mannan”, beautifully penned by Vairamuthu, extremely feminine and deeply expressive of a longing. The song is the plight of a girl who falls for the “Punnagai Mannan” (Prince of smiles, the closest English approximation) claiming that she is his princess. The song ends on a note that come whatever may, she would be happiest with his love. The song was set to tune by Illayaraja, rendered superbly by Chitra. A very,very sweet song.
I was too kicked to listen to it on FM, that I couldn’t resist the temptation of typing the lyrics as the song proceeded.


The Song:

Edhedho ennam valarthen
Unkayil ennai koduthen
Nee thaaney punnagai mannan
Un rani naaney
Panpadum padagan neeye
Un raagam naaney


Sila Kaalamai naanum sirai vaazhgiren
Unai paartha naal thaaney uyir vaazhgiren
Thookam vizhikiren pookal valarkiren
Sila pookal thaaney malarginradhu
Pala pookal eno udhirginradhu
Badhil enna kooru (an indication to successful and failed relationships)
Poovum naanum veru (beautiful and subtle portrayal of difference, when in many cases women are compared to flowers)

Kula deivamey en kurai theerkava
Kai neetinen ennai karai serkava
Neeye anaikka vaa
Theeyai anaikka vaa (anaikka – in its twin meaning, to embrace and also extinguish)
Nee paarkum podhu pani aagiren
Un maarbil saindhu kulir kaigiren
Edhu vandha podhum indha anbu podhum (love these three lines)
(With due credits to the lyricist and whoever owns the copyright:))

Three 'different' points

A coupla things..

One, I have uploaded the pictures I had clicked at “Swabodhini” Annual day..(Ref: Post titled, “Giving a little space”). Link to viewing photos available on the side bar. (Acknowledgments: Thanks Mo!)

Two, I got to read up this article (the link doesn't seem to work now) on how Nepal’s journalists are communicating on the situation in Nepal, to the rest of the world, despite the suspended media rights in the country. Thanks to the world of blogs, they seem to be escaping the control of the King. It is really interesting to see the power of communication that blogs offer. But the bigger point is, where should this stop? I happened to hear that an Iranian blogger has been sentenced to 14 years in prison. Where does the freedom of expression in a blog end? Highly debatable.

Third, I just had Yanni running in the background and now its Enigma. And I am just drifting to the past. Hmm..thinking of some years back, the four eventful years at BITS, somehow Yanni reminds me of the BITS Audi and OASIS (our cultural fest) times. Oh, terribly nostalgic, music has this undeniable tendency to pull you back in time. I have always felt this strongly. This topic definitely deserves a separate post. Hence, reserved for a future date.
Time to sleep now. Goodnight. :)

The one month old baby! :)

" Yippe..Ma blog is one month old
With quite a few stories told
and many more to unfold
Days have just rolled
yippe..Ma blog is one month old."

So, that is indeed a surprise to me that I managed this much, probably isn't big deal with so many "senior experienced bloggers" out here...:).
A month has shown me, how much fun it is to blog and get to meet some virtual like minded people..:))

Blogging seems to have become a reflective exercise for me and gives me a great break..What does it mean for all the others who blog? Do I get to hear something?

To be a girl, and to drive means..

I am supposed to be reviewing a book called “Political Economy of Under development” for my Economics assignment. I have read two pages of it, and the rest of my post isn’t about it. I just realise I have chosen the wrong time to start reading an economics book and before I could turn to the third page, I am already thinking of that irritating face that stared at me, as he zoomed past me on his bike yesterday. He was so disgusting!! And I suddenly feel this burning hate for him, that if I could stare back at him now, I would love to burn him down to ashes.

Sounds violent? May be. I don’t know if I echo a feministic attitude if I said that most guys driving on the road, can’t stand girls who drive confidently. (Well, not really trying to blow my own trumpet here, but its one of the things that I really feel confident about in life!). I reiterate, I said most guys, and there are exceptions. Let’s leave the exceptions aside. I drive a scooty pep and I simply love it (somehow gives me that independent feeling, can’t really explain!); So, the natural tendency is to drive at good speed and stay in the middle of the road.

I am not lying when I say that everyday that I drive down Mount road, I have at least one male chauvinist who can’t stand me going ahead. Yesterday, I met one such guy whose face I hate to recollect now. He kept honking from behind, so irritably and unnecessarily and me, I was in all moods for a fight that I refused to budge to useless fellows. I just drove ahead and this chap raced ahead of me, missing me by an inch. Had he swerved little bit, he would have gleefully dislodged me off my bike. And he just went ahead, turned and almost sneered at me, as though I was an insect who he could have squashed with his foot, if he wanted to.

“He-llll-oooo, Excuse me!”, I shouted back, appalled. Sadly, the vehicles on the road, and my big black helmet, shielded my voice and he was gone. And all the way back home, I wondered why vehicles needed horns; I mean they simply didn’t serve any useful purpose. They are terrorising tools used by men and when women use them, it simply didn’t make any sense. Times when I hear auto wallas or car drivers or two wheeler drivers go on honking, I would just feel like stopping my bike, getting down, walking up to the guy honking and just pulling off his vehicle’s god damned horn! Honestly, I haven’t seen people making judicious use of it.

Not just that. When you stand in a signal, by ill luck, in the front row of vehicles (missing the last round of signal unfortunately), you are gone for a toss. Even before the signal turns green, the vehicles behind you get so impatient and their horns blare with all the irritation. I have to forget respecting the signal, even if I wanted to, and just go ahead, else am doomed.

Main trouble makers. Auto rick drivers. They are unquestionable, masters of the roads. They would go on the left and suddenly move across the road to make a right turn, and if you happily assumed that they were just going left, you would head straight into hitting the back of the auto, missing it narrowly and screeching to a halt. Immediately he would put out his head, and point his hand at you, as if you did the biggest mistake by driving on a straight line.

Well, tough life! Not to mention those snakish looking new kind of buses, plying Chennai roads. Two buses linked by a vestibule(guess it's one), controlled by one driver sitting on the extreme right, he would never realise what devilish turn his bus takes when he starts from a bus stop. And these buses are really dangerous, because one can never predict the line in which they would move.

Yes, of course, there is the always existing size hierarchy and ego problem on Chennai roads. For a bus driver, a matador cannot cross his path, and for a matador, a sumo or sierra better give way. For a sumo, a maruti is trivial and you can’t obviously trail behind a maruti, if you drive a sumo, how could you? For a maruti owner, two wheelers better mind their own business and not come the maruti way. And for two wheelers, the cyclists are a real pain. Well, actually the cyclists are a pain to vehicles of all sorts because they just don’t feel they should obey traffic rules.

And how could I forget the fierce ego combat of two sexes? The male and the female. Females just can’t afford to be good. I admit that certain women who drive cars are lousy. Extremely lousy, that I hate them myself. But, most of them drive worse, because they feel intimidated by racing vehicles around. What is needed is some understanding, beyond regulating the traffic. Of course, traffic regulation is badly needed in Chennai. (something like Singaporean laws..I don’t really know how they are, elsewhere!).

I would also wish that some men didn’t generalise the entire women community to be bad drivers. There are good ones too. I always respect a good male driver on the road. Why can’t they?

Well, if I took a combination of size of the vehicle and the sex, the worst hit by that formula are the two wheeler female riders, assuming there aren’t women cyclists on Mount road ;). And, I fall in that category and that is why this post. Ah, a logical derivation to a social problem, ain’t I getting back to economics? I am conceptualising a problem..:)

Busy, Busy and Busy!!

I just realised I haven't blogged for two whole days..I don't know if I have a valid excuse for myself, when I say I was busy..
Oh hey, I was busy..I was..with all the assignments and tests and of course campus placements...
And, yes, I was busy feeling happy, on top of the world, on having got my offer letter!! I was also little confused, in convincing my parents, who despite their happiness, had more worries packed in their heads..and finally managed to convince them..still busy striking some deals..Boy, what a life!
Ideas literally pounding inside my skull, I feel I would burst any moment now..
Ok anu stop, full stop to ur excitement...Now, back to work..Blogging and reading others blogs reserved for the night! :)

Giving a little space

Rewind
9th Feb. To my post on "Beautiful Minds" where I mentioned about a programme by special children at the Music academy
Forward
22nd Feb. Correction: Programme held at Naradha Gana Sabha and not Music Academy.

*****************************************************************
It was about 6:30 PM by the time I raced into Narada Gana Sabha. Swabodhini’s banner greeted everyone at the entrance. Swabodhini, a charitable trust that runs a school for special children in Chennai celebrated its 16th annual day function today. I had listed it down as an agenda for the day, quite some days back. But I wasn’t really sure whether I would be able to manage it. But I am glad I managed to make it; it was a wonderful experience – two hours that saw many of my emotions being brought to the forefront, I laughed, I appreciated and I cried, all from the bottom of my heart.

I had never been to a function like this before. There were so many kids, all with different problems, of varying intensities. Their age would have roughly varied between 3 to 20 years. And all of them were there, with a unified purpose, to put in front of a fairly large and interested gathering, their best efforts to showcase what they were capable of.

The beauty of participating in the programme, lay in being able to discard the imperfection and non uniformity in the performance and enjoy the innocence and hard work of those really special children. Their casualness and absence of inhibition isn’t easy for any of us. They just didn’t mind, as dazzling flashes from couple of cameras lit up in front of them. They were themselves – a rare human quality.

There were dances, a beautifully re-enacted comical sequence of Kattabomman – Jackson durai, a skating performance, and the super hit fashion show. Some smartly dressed, some sweetly made up, they all walked up the ramp, posed and walked back, ignoring all their struggle to walk perfectly. I was stunned to hear a boy, (if I recollect the name right, Vishwanath) dressed in formals, state with perfect detail, what happened on a given day, as his teacher read out a date to him. A superb update of current affairs.

Behind all this, is the effort of the teachers in the school. Their patience and their noble heart deserves so much praise. That is an understatement! I only wish I could express it better. The teachers were there, all through the show, standing behind the children, telling them what to do. And no one minded - the mix up. The applause went to the children and to the teachers as well. They truly deserved it!

A powerpoint presentation on a day at Swabodhini totally shot in slow motion caught the children in their natural state of learning. With “Kurai Ondrum Illai” playing in the background and M.S’s voice singing, I couldn’t hold myself from shedding a tear or two. I was right there, sitting in the very first row, catching and video recording the precious moments on my digicam. As I sat there, one of the kids, came running from back stage, sat next to me, gave me a wide smile and ran back. I wondered why she did that, but I felt so innately happy at the recognition. It felt nice.

While some of the kids jumped and waved from the stage at the audience, there were kids who would just cry and struggle to walk, to talk, to do what they had to do. For all those moments, I really wished I could do something for them, I mean, whatever I could.

While, I came out I saw a contacts register lying at the reception, I just made an entry,
“Anupama Viswanathan
Asian College of Journalism
-Deeply Moved, Would really love to be of any help”, scribbled my contact number and walked back to the parking lot, hoping I could make a difference in some way. This blog is one such effort, to request empathy for such children and at some possible occasion, if you can really help them grow, I would deeply request that you did something.
I feel, we can, can’t we?

I wanna sound byte!

Certain questions keep popping up inside my head, now and then. Those times, I would just feel like standing in front of a big crowd, and shouting the question out! Have never tried that but..
Then got this idea at 1 last night, when i was in one of those transient states, oscillating between sleeping and staying awake...
So, I decided I would put one such question here..Well, why not? If somebody could post a reply..I would at least get an answer..
Ok..now to the question..
One, What do guys think when they look at a girl? Simply put, which girl would impress a guy most?
Two, the other way round, What do girls think when they look at a guy? (I have my own answers..I wouldn't put them here, probably, that is another post!). Simply put, which guy would impress a girl most?

I know opinions differ and that is why I ask for it..
So, Can i have some sound bytes please????

Oops..I messed up!

I am smart. Know what I did. After posting stuff on Mega serials, with the HTML 'skills' that I possess, I tried something with the template code and I guess I deleted most of the code that my blog went blank. Gosh! I got psyched outa shape and went back to see the code and I realised the problem. But last night it seemed ok, Strange! Well, for all those who visited my blog yday (Hopefully!!:)), you would have seen a disaster.
One more post, reserved for the night!Catch ya soon..

The curse called mega serials

In an era, where running a TV channel is considered a really lucrative business, competition is high pitched, with the channels battling out to grab a lion’s share of the TV audience. The hindi channels, though my understanding of them is limited, has led me to believe that they rely on their long running soaps (the kinds of Ekta Kapoor’s “K series”) and the innumerable game shows that glitter with celebrities from the Bollywood, to boost their viewership levels.

My earliest recollections of a hindi mega serial that ran for days and days together is “Junoon”, which incidentally got dubbed into Tamil, triggering an entirely new domain of tamil lingo and jumbling up of word order. Aditya Dhanraj, Keshav Khalsi (played by Tom Alter), Mini Agarwal (played by Kitu Gidwani), Seema, those are a few names that I can remember now. I am reminded of how I hated Mini Agarwal for the vamp that she used to be and her dad, do I sound right, when I recollect that he actually was handicapped? Memories ah!

Moving down south and fast forwarding several years, to about five years back, we arrive at a period where mega serials started influencing the popularity of tamil channels. Serials like “Chitti”, “Annamalai” and the present super hit with most of the homes, “Metti Oli” belong to this genre. How could I forget Balachander’s serials like “Kayalavu Manasu” that dripped with melodrama?

I can’t explain how much the recent serials put me off. I return home at around 9, when “metti oli” would just begin. I would vent out all my frustration about the serial over the dining table, Poor mom! And I would just run into my room shutting the door behind. I just hate the ideas they propagate. What “hate”, Gosh, I can’t stand them!!

I see my emotional grandparents sob silently as the so called sacrificing cum patient females weep buckets and buckets in that idiot box. God, I don’t know how directors build such story plots. The central characters (esp. in Chitti/Annamalai) are seen smiling in the first five days of the serial. After that, they meet challenges from all possible spheres and they won’t strain a single muscle on their face to smile. They just draw a blank face and of course, weep.

And the torture can come in various forms – an unrelenting MIL (she is the villain in most women’s lives) as she pours out dialogues that a normal human would think a million times to speak. Even, if it’s a serial, come on ya, give me a break!! However, fictitious you claim them to be, there is a limit to stretching the gap between the good and the evil. The extent to which you can do that also has limits.

The serials are over crowded with bad characters with only a handful of the supposedly, selfless and infinitely patient souls. Torturing husbands who side their ever-reigning moms also find a frequent slot. And as the plot evolves, cunning characters crop up and disappear or stay till the end, to achieve their character moksha, a complete personality clean up aided by the ‘goodness’ of the central woman.

It isn’t difficult to assess the kind of impact it would have on the psyche of people watching such serials. With cable television, almost having become an integral part of most of the households, I wouldn’t doubt the capability of such serials influencing the mentality of the viewers. For children, this is more damage than one could ask for. It just ruthlessly shatters their innocence. From playing games with Barbie dolls, they would probably imitate a fight sequence between a MIL and her dotter-in-law. Who knows?
There is a famous quote that goes, “Children are like wet cement, whatever falls on them makes an impression!” these serials are unconsciously imbibing the wrong qualities in children.

Talk about elders. With already so much unrest bothering their minds, they would sit and watch such serials till they go to sleep and any kind of insecurity that they might already possess, only gets complicated through views propounded by such ‘master pieces’. They tend to believe that the old are left to suffer and you simply can’t blame them for that. Believe me, I am seeing live examples before my eyes.

My granny gets easily confused and mixes stories and characters, across the six and odd mega serials that she watches through the length of the day. Its so funny to watch her actually asking my grandpa doubts on serials, who is much better in keeping track of stories. He would only blame her for her forgetfulness and continue to shed a tear or two, for the poor soul who would actually be subjected to torture in an ongoing serial. Kadavuley, idhu nattukku thevaya?? I only hope that this gets to change some day.. to hell with mega serials!!

The poetic spirit of Bharathi

(Backgrounder, in case I am losing someone on what I am talking about - Mahakavi Bharathiyar, popularly known as Bharathi, is one of the most talented poetic minds that Tamil Nadu has ever produced. Bharathiyar kavidaigal (poems of Bharathi) span a wide variety of topics and are especially famous for its spirit of freedom. Bharathi didn’t live long, but his poems continue to ring in our lives, in different forms.)

Tamil, as a language, is something I feel extremely passionate about. Well written Tamil pieces – essays or stories and poems, or for that matter, well written lyrics in movie songs, find a great fan in me. That way, Bharathi’s Tamil has been a source of inspiration, a wonderful means of relaxation for me and I possess this small book of Bharathiyar kavidaigal that I keep going back to, whenever I find the time.

Most of my exposure to his poems, have been through film songs. Nevertheless, I have heard many of his songs being sung by the all time great Carnatic singer, Late M.S. Subulakshmi. I haven’t read all of his works but certain lines amaze me because of their simple yet powerful construction.

Many of his poems carry a burning desire to see a free India, as in,
“Endru thaniyum indha sudhandhira dhaagam?
Endru madiyum engal adimayin mogam?”

Or cases where he would describe the pride of being an Indian, “Paarukulley nalla naadu, engal bharatha naadu”.Powerful words of his would inspire anybody to fight for what one truly deserved.

A set of Bharathi’s songs are entirely dedicated to Goddess Shakthi, on whom he bestows a beautiful form, completely through his poetic prowess. Shakthi for him is “Nitya Kalyani”, also the destroyer of evil, and one who could bless our lives with goodness – “Thunbamiladha nilaye Shakthi; thookam illa kan vizhipey Shakthi” and there are many, many more.

Bharathi was a visionary. He wanted a whole new, free world for women. “Pen Vidhuthalai vendum” he said years and years ago. “Manadhil Urudhi Vendum, Vakkiniley Inimai Vendum”, he wrote on the need for courage in one’s mind also emphasising that politeness should mark one’s speech. A brilliant piece and one of my personal favourites.

Bharati’s sense of romance is mind blowing. Kannama figures as the fictitious lover in many of his poems. The passion with which he describes Kannama and the love for her is exceptional in, “Suttum Vizhi chuddar thaan kannama, suriyar chandirano?”. If that sounded familiar, this is the song sung by Hariharan, in Kandukonden kandukonden. Again, one of my favourites. “Chinanjiru Kiliye Kannama..”, she is the little girl here. “..selva Kalanjiyame” talks about the sweet little darling that she is.

His poems also bear a testimony to the deep thinker that he was. “Nirpadhuvey, Nadapadhuvey, Parapadhuvey..Neengal ellam kanalin neero, pala thotra mayakangalo?” he questions the reality of what we see around us. Are they Maya, mere illusions? My third favourite piece, and it features as a song in the movie “Bharathi”, the song being sung by Harish Raghavendra.

And that just isn’t all about Bharathi. There is much more to him than what I know. As someone, who has begun reading and interpreting him more seriously, I recognize that his poems are a journey into realising certain truths of life. Bharathiyin thamizhil moozhguvadhai kaatilum perinbamum uundo? Reading and comprehending him is truly a matter of pleasure. He IS marvellous.

(if I sent people mad, with all those tamil quotes, am sorry, but if you could understand them, they are a real treat! I consciously refrained from translating them, because it would do utter damage to the beauty of his work.)

People who make a difference

Twenty days back I was walking down towards a mobile dealer shop to purchase a recharge card and I saw a familiar face trying to cross the road. She too caught a glimpse of me and she kept turning around hesitatingly, trying to place my face inside her head. By then, I had recognized her and the smile came across her face. All this in a few seconds and I beamed, “Hello, Ma’am!”. In a moment, Ranganayaki Ma’am held my hand and asked me how I was doing.

It was a pleasant surprise. Ranganayaki ma’am was my class teacher who also taught me maths in my +1 and +2 classes. I was meeting her after seven whole years and she hadn’t changed one bit. Quite unlike me, I actually saw myself absolutely free as I went on and on about what I was doing now, what had happened in the last two years, ever since I finished my grads and I found an earnest listener. I gave a whole round up of the post D.A.V life and finally ended with “No ma’am, am not yet married!” when that was the first question, she asked me after, “How are you?” “You look the same, you haven’t changed one bit,” she smiled.

Today, my mom, who also happens to be a teacher, a science teacher to be more specific, showed with all interest, one of the answer sheets that she was correcting. She was pretty amused about the way one of the guys in her class had written an answer, partly proud too! There have been many, many occasions where she would come and tell me all the fun that she had with her “kids” at school.

I would often think, what a noble profession, teaching is. It is a vocation marked by selflessness and one that would give a very high level of job satisfaction. After all, isn’t it a matter of pride to actually guide so many lives up the ladder of success? Personally, if there is one set of people whom I spontaneously give respect to, it is my teachers. I don’t know why, but till now, every time that I ran into a teacher, there is a reverence that appears almost immediately. I would agree to do anything, if they had any work to be done out of me and that would come without the slightest hesitation. And this has been true, especially with ACJ.

My granddad has been teaching for the last sixty years and at 84, today, he still continues to hold math tuitions. While kids who are much younger to me, come to study under him, I have seen batches and batches of guys and girls, attending his classes before who were much much senior to me. Infact, generations of students studied under him. I remember at least 3 cases where the parents and later their children got his training. One ought to be really gifted to light the lives of so many people.

And for all the teaching that he did, to this day, he commands respect from the oldest of his students, one of them being about 60 years or so of age. My mom too, comes home, loaded with gifts and hand made cards from her students, especially on Teacher’s day. She would come back and describe with heartfelt happiness as to how her class students burst the balloon on top of her head and a whole lot of glitters landed on her. I remember how my sis used to dig into her bag for “bday toffees”.

Teachers would send out batches and batches of students, hoping their kids would all settle down well and would come back to them some day. A post wouldn’t do to tell how much I respect the profession, especially with quite a few of them in my family itself. I have sometimes thought to myself as to how good it would be to handle KG students as a teacher. It should be so much of fun listening to all their sweet little complaints, “miss, he is hitting me..”, “miss he took my pencil” etc. etc. All cutie pies that could get really attached to you, if you could show them the right kind of affection! Probably, I would do that some day, who knows? :)

Rick trips - taken for a ride?

One can probably get into a controversy when saying, “An item of luxury is always evil,” of course when giving a generalised opinion of that sort. But not when it comes to auto rickshaws of Chennai and their unbeatable auto drivers. I am sure I have at least a couple of heads, nodding in approval when I say that “rick” trips, most of the times, gives you the shakes.

Some of us call it the “yellow bus” and the “yellow bus” is omnipresent – anytime, anywhere. The most interesting aspect of an auto drive is the fare. Tell them the place, God knows what kind of a computational mechanism resides inside their head, that they spell out such bizarre “unfair” rates. Let’s say, you want to get in near Pothys at Panagal Park and get down at North Usman road. Ask the auto wala and he says, “Madam, 20 rupees,” when both he and you know that it is not even worth ten rupees of distance! Ask him, “ennanga?”(What sir?) and he says, “No madam, very high traffic. Lot of petrol will go if we move slow” – technical reasoning for a monetary point being made, I suppose? Some of them are smart enough to give time as a reason. “Sir, night time, I won’t get a return trip” or morning times, “peak hour sir. Traffic will be high.” Or it might be, “Petrol prices WILL go up!!”. You could probably release a book titled, “1000 reasons why auto fares are high!!”

Sometimes, the place from where you emerge to take an auto also matters. They see you come out of “Ispahani Centre” in Nungambakkam, (a posh shopping mall, for the benefit of those who don’t know), the price on you is definitely more, than what you would be asked for, if you had taken an auto a few yards down the road. And guess the weapon of terror, in the city? It is the auto driver offering to turn their meters on. The moment they say that, you can see panic stricken faces saying, “Vendam Pa!” (no!!). The heated up meters show devilish numbers that run faster than the fastest athlete in the world. They are a passenger’s nightmare! Once they see signs of you not having a complete grasp of the geographic layout of the city, you are done! You are surely taken for a ride!

One fine day, near the Marina, I see a foreigner in conversation with a “rick” fellow. She wants to go to Adyar and our sir triples the fare. I never realised they understood the dollar equation! How smartly unfair!

You get into an auto and you hold your life in your hand (more on his, rather!) and he traces all possible geometric figures through the road, with his driving skills. A twist, a turn, a bump and a jump and you are lucky to land back on your seat only to hear his fierce “madras lingo” outpour on an “ill traffic sensed” cyclist nearby. (Want an example? Here is a very common one, “Yeh, Savukrakki, vootla sollitu vandhuttaya?Otraan paaru!!”). By the end of it, all you are spared of is, a series of “sss” hisses, for the money that you pay and finally landing in the destination, thanks to your lucky stars!

Despite everything, autos are now an integral part of the daily routine of many. We have drivers who are so eco-conscious that the back of their autos read, “Please don’t pollute the air!” (Well, what are you doing, by the way ?) and there are drivers, who now have the tech edge apart from everything else. Ah! You wanna pick, just give them a ring on their mobile!