The Fifth of September

Birthdays are always special. For one thing, they remind you that time is running out :( and for another, they remind your friends/loved ones of you :). This birthday was no exception. When V called from US, fond memories of yester years came back.

I remember two incidents particularly. For some strange reason, we used to be obsessed with our belongings in office (this was when we were just interns in y!). Even to go to the cafeteria for lunch, we used to make a huge scene of whispers, signals and signs, pack our cubicles up, zip our bags, put them on and be off, get back after lunch, unpack the whole thing and start working with a grave face, not realising all the while, that we were causing acute embarrassment to ourselves and immense entertainment to passersby.. until one day, a snobbish senior of ours confronted us.."edukku neenga BITS oda maanatha vaangaringa? Unga bagsa yaarum tookindupoyidamaata." (Why are you spoiling the BITSian name? Nobody is going to flick your bags). If I remember right, we hung our faces, jolted at the idea of having to leave our dear darling bags behind.But we did it ! (for the sake of you-know-what).Ugh! We hated ourselves.

Another one is the y! cafeteria. We had free lunch (that makes it yummier, doesnt it?). Anybody who has graduated from BITS would agree with me when I say that we were famished and deprived of good food all four years. On the other hand, B'lore offered us such huge variety that one could still be famished because one could never choose what to eat first. So this is what V and I did. After the above mentioned ritual of packing our sacks and marching to the cafe, we would place ourselves in the most comfortable corner of the cafe and start our next elaborate ritual.. eating! First it would be rotis, sabji, dal with papad. Then it would be rice with rasam/sambar. Then some sweet. Then curd rice (V cant exist without this :P ). And each of these courses would have second helpings. we wouldnt be satisfied even then. Fruits would follow next. Finally when there is nothing else to eat, we would pick our sacks and march back - going fat and chubby all the while, of course :P. One day, unfortunately, we had to share our table with a few guys who spoke Telugu with each other. V and I conversed in English/Tamil and observing that, one of them, dared to comment on our food.."Ammo! Veellu enta tintunnaru! Ippudu banana kooda tintunnaru. Ganta nunchi tintunee unnaru." (My!How much would these girls eat? After all that food, they are eating bananas now and they have been eating for an hour!!). That was the end ! It hurt our feelings. our hearts cringed and turned and cried (you can add more verbs for some more spice). We decided gravely and in sorrow, took an oath. No more gluttoning, no, not at the cost of our dignity. :D. We cursed the guy would become sooooo fat that he wouldnt ever get married. How dare he ! And how poor us !

Then there was so much more. The early morning blues, bathroom struggle, discussions, PG aunty, M kutty (she used to always play my fav songs whenever we went to eat), Mungaru Male, falling in love with Sonu Nigam, the bus journey - the running,panting and sleeping, my shloka reading in the bus, SHOPPING (we shopped like crazy - mostly window shopping in big places, actual shopping in small places), staring at the Central, our pride in our first bank account and pay check, the PAN card office, running in B'lore rain, the ISKCON temple ordeal (S was left behind and we all screamed at the conductor), popcorn prasadam, GURU SONGS (all of us were crazy about "Tere Bina". We would melt and dream and cry :P ), the dhobi lady and the little kid (Umesh), the distance education supervision and extra money, the long long walks on MG road, bunking office and walking to Commercial Street (When? in the afternoons), the volvo buses, the all day bus pass, the DOGS (I hate B'lore dogs. I remember I cried when a pack of those killed a kutty boy. It was all in the papers), Mohan Nayak (Ha! V and I can never forget that guy and his "Madam.. rose madam.." lol), fights in PG, yells, tears, strikes (we wont have food in PG strike. Ha!), house hunt with S (once I remember we got scared seeing the house owner lady and ran. She looked like some.. Uf! never mind now), trips back home, train journey alone for the first time, home alone with S and all night chats, brief interludes in the y! gym and resolution to come even on weekends (which never happened), Sai Baba mandir and the walks on Sundays, creepy guys who keep calling you, turn up at ATMs and ask you to come to Cafe Coffee Day ( after which you would run for dear life)... much much more...

REALLY, it pays to be silly and stupid sometimes, in small things. Looking back, they provide the loveliest of memories. And thus today has begun and would be spent, in nostalgia.

"Anticipatory"

is the word which would best describe my mood over the last couple of days. I would pine and long in restless eagerness for something until the moment arrives and departs in a jiffy, like a flash of lightning. I am sure many of you have been where I am right now. (For instance,looking forward a weekend after a hectic work week, until Friday evening arrives, only to soon find yourself going to bed on Sunday night.)Definitely there have been endless "wishes and prayers" - if only Friday evening would stand still - the weekend having started but not quite.

I am reminded of a profound poem we learnt way back at school. John Keats, one of the most revered English poets, bases this poem on the pictures on an Urn (an earthen pot) and marvels at how each moment is captured forever on the Urn.

For example, the lover, just about to passionately kiss his beloved is caught in that intimate moment on the Urn. Yes, he would now never kiss his love - but all the same, his passion would never die, his beloved would never cease to entice him, his love would never fade away.

"Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard
Are sweeter: therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;
Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear'd,
Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone:
Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave
Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;
Bold lover, never, never canst thou kiss,
Though winning near the goal - yet, do not grieve;
She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,
For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair! "

The poem ends with "Satyam(truth) Shivam (auspicious existence) Sundaram (beauty)" - at least that is what I have understood

"Beauty is truth, truth beauty," - that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know."

My tribute to all those poets/souls who could think such beautiful , yet profound thoughts and to the Creator from whom all what Is , arises...

Life's Like This...

It amazes me how some pestilential specimen on the earth could be such experts in bugging. A septagenerian on my most recent train journey stood testimony to this fact.

Travelling alone has never been an exciting experience in the past. So the presence of my uncle this time, evoked the undaunted chatterbox in me. We were in the middle of this really involving and amusing, light discussion about "hypocrisy in following traditions" when I heard THE VOICE. I guess God would have sounded that way when He said "Let there be Light". THE VOICE belonged to a slightly hefty, round bellied, white haired old man sitting beside me and munching chapathis. He pronounced "You are wrong" and started blabbing about how the usual symbols of an Indian girl (a bindi, bangles, MangalSutra - he did not bother to think if I was actually married or not) are missing in me and how our "culture" and "tradition" are lost in most of us and this and that and this again and that again. He volunteered to provide some "musical" entertainment by graciously blowing his own trumpet - "Oh I do Yoga, Pranayama everyday. Oh I walk for half and hour everyday even at my age. Oh I follow strict diet." - Probably that is the trade secret behind his hanging belly which seemed to walk before him wherever he went, like a bodyguard.

It was evident on his face that he disliked me - intensely in that, reasons unknown. It was also more evident that most of what he was speaking was mere lies. Irony - Our discussion on hypocrisy actually tempted our dear neighbour on the train to be unbearably and shamelessly hypocritical. Honesty, for him, seemed to be hidden at the bottom of a bottomless abyss. Age, trials, tribulations in life have apparently failed to teach him to speak atleast simple truths. I wondered how many more of us are like that. The train moved fast, he kept preaching, a few others including my uncle nodded along and asked "doubts" (Wham!), I sat silent, alone again.The journey continued...

Uncureable Curiosity !

As far as my knowledge goes, there are two kinds of people - the curious and the not non-curious. In effect, curiosity inflicts all.

The not non-curious type dont ask questions. However, if you are in a mood to talk, they are ALL ears. The curious kind bombard you with questions - all sorts. But the good curious kind empathize with you and try to help you or console you or whatever. The not-so-good curious people irritate me the MOST. To start with, they are least interested in your well being. And their questions are unending - to the point of insensitivity and shamelessness.

One of my acquaintances happens to portray herself this way. She HAS to ask questions - however worthless and inconsequential . It is either RAW curiosity or some overflowing feeling of altruism to spread general knowledge to others about others. In a few of your good, tolerant moods, you can actually find her (and hence such people) very amusing and derive some entertainment value. Dont be surprised if you perceive a radiant glow on their faces and the most dazzling sparkle in their eyes while they put you through the ultimate test of patience. (Mind you, otherwise these people could be very listless about every other thing in the world) The worst part is that the conversation becomes so unbearable that you would want to run to a stationery store, buy a roll of cellophane and expend it entirely on their mouth area. Typical questions would be like this - Candidate looks at a cap and asks.."Oh is this a cap?". You roll your eyes and say "yes". Bang comes the next question(s) - "Where did you buy? How much did you pay? When will you go there next? Where are you going to wear this? Are there other colors? How many? ......" (extending to infinity). Well, that was just to give an example - a very simple and humble one at that.

Well, I have let my frustration out. I had a bout of useless curiosity thrown at me from a totally unempathizing personality and was irritated - having vented that out, let me now get back to work.

'Cat'astrophy !!!

Getting ready in the morning has always been a rush affair for me. It doesnt matter how early I get up. I always end up running hither and thither and just about manage to catch my bus. (Alas !). Anyway, today was no exception. But guess what I should see in the hall while eating carrots, combing hair and searching for my mobile (yes, all at the same time)?!? Horrors of horrors...A FAT BROWN CAT !!! It sprang behind the TV and managed to slide out through the front door. I was aghast !!! The feline species have not forgiven me. Everytime they HAVE to appear in the most unexpected of places, in the most unexpected of moments and make my heart jump out of my body, hit the opposite wall and jump back in just in time to save my life.

This reminds me of a nightmarish early morning in college. I was in my third year and it was summer. We all slept with our balcony doors open in our respective rooms in hostel. I was in good sleep when I suddenly woke up having a feeling I was not alone in that room. I was not wrong. Yes, a thin black cat with green eyes was sitting right next to me on my bed. Then two things happened in a single instant - I had my first attack of paralysis, it had its first experience of being PT Usha's feline counterpart(atleast I think so) - in short, it jumped past me out of the window and disappeared into the darkness in lightning speed.

All said and done, I am not so much of an animal lover. My love for animals extends only to the point where I can manage to not hate them and can manage to not interfere in their existence. My sincere prayer to all the feline, cannine, whatever-ine species of the world (though they cannot read this) - " Please stay away from me. Good fences make good neighbours :- "

Horoscopes or "Horror"scopes?

Hailing from a pretty orthodox family, I have had the "privilege" of witnessing and hearing quite a few stories around horoscopes, auspicious and inauspicious times (and the like). Tradition demands that for a girl to be "sought after" by prospective grooms' families, she should have a compulsively impressive horoscope. That includes being born under a "good star" - though I am at my wit's end to understand what that star might have done to the world to have been proclaimed "good". An Indian girl's parents heave a huge sigh of relief when one of renowned astrologers (who would also be probably one of the richest astrologers) give her horoscope a "pass with first class/distinction" certificate. Otherwise their plight would be "Oh is your girl educated? Very good. Oh she cooks? Excellent. Oh she is interested in arts? Fantastic. Oh she looks good too? What else can one want? By the way, What is her star? Bad-star? Sorry, we are looking for a 'good' wife for our son. Bye bye". (All nonsense if you ask me !!!) The worst part is the same star is not as nightmarish to boys !!! In fact people claim openly "If its a boy, not a problem. But for a girl...a big NO". And we call ourselves civilized and educated.. Bah !!!

Not long ago, a certain set of circumstances demanded that I gain some knowledge about stars and constellations, planets and their satellites :P.(No, I am not referring to the study of space or astronomy) I learned that a girl born under Indian star "Moola" would KILL her father-in-law. Now this holds even when the father-in=law's horoscope says he would live so long that the whole world would start praying for his departure(:P). Actually, wouldn't that be a good way to get rid of your old, troublesome, orthodox husband without fearing the law? Get your son married to a girl with "Moola" Nakshatra :D

Indian astrologers are mind-blowing. Apparently with a cost of a few thousand rupees, one can get oneself "cleared" off the ill effects of one's birth star. Now that is sheer baloney ! What is further distressing is there are people ready to take loans and pay the "large-hearted" (and most probably, fat-bellied) gentlemen to PRAY to the stars and constellations on our behalf !!! And even then, these most spiritually endowed souls would warn us "However, we cannot give 100% assurance that these prayers would be answered but 80% of the time, they work." Ohh, how can you? It probably depends on what MOOD the star is when you pray, isn't it? (Sigh!)

Why do we all need proxies for prayers? Are we not all endowed with the same life force, the same capacity to think, act, pray? How can a star decide and DEEM a girl's future, her personality, and her self-respect ? Yet, generations after generations, in the so called "traditional" marriages, this is the story we so often hear, talk about ,and conveniently forget. As long as girls and their parents give in to the pressures of the society, as long as young GUYS blind their eyes to the horrors of horoscopes and deafen their ears to the sorrows caused by dowry/gold and dance to their parents' tunes - (however arrhythmic they are), looks like the "GRAND" saga of most of these traditional marriages which are so generous in providing ample tension, frustration and anxiety to last a lifetime, would continue...

Brown Purse Blues

It takes one of those bright, chirpy mornings where you are all positive thought and energy and are looking forward to a day of "extreme" productivity , to realise you forgot your invaluable purse at your office desk the previous night. Then begins the most unceremonious descent of all nightmares on your day. Yes, this happened to me today.

I had just jotted down "action items" for the day when the disastrous memory struck. I felt like kicking myself hard enough to make me land on my office desk right then - (it would not have made any difference if my purse was actually stolen, anyway). The sunny morning suddenly became unbearably hot. With a heavy heart, I boarded my bus. The journey never seemed to end. When I finally managed to gasp, pant and run to my desk, I found a note from Security - "Claim your wallet from Security Desk". Whew !!! My bright, chirpy morning is back :) .

The point is - I wondered how everything (including me) changed instantly - the blessed instant being when I took my purse in my hands and held it securely tight. Just a while ago, I was anxious and tense. In a moment, I was all smiles and light. In fact shrewd observers would have noticed a light hop in my walk. I even managed to hum a song. The security guy made my day, indeed ! I thanked him immensely and mentally made a 'note' of a new 'note' to go into my newly acquired habit of making daily notes - "Check for purse and mobile before leaving office".