Bird poop and other important things

So we finally bought our first car. After almost a month of gathering information (mostly done by S), requesting quotes from all Honda dealers in the area, failing twice in making a deal, we saw light at the end of the car buyer's tunnel - and in that light we saw a brand new Honda Accord which we could call "our own".  Soon, the emotions began. The moment S and I saw our sparkling blue car, we decided it should sparkle for the rest of its life, that no harm shall ever befall our beloved vehicle and that we would guard it with utmost responsibility which included parking it a little away from other cars (lest their doors should bruise our dear one, you see). We took him (the attachment prevents me from referring to the car as 'it') to the temple, prayed for his well being and thanked the Lord for giving him to us. When we brought him home, we were ecstatic to find a secluded parking spot waiting for us and wept for joy (hyperbole, of course!) about how lucky he was. In wonderful spirits, after informing family and friends about his entry into our lives, we retired for the day. 

The next day turned out to be delightfully sunny and our new car sparkled more than ever. I wanted to drive him to work. The amateur driver that I am, I was half dead with tension before we could reach office - "Will I hit something when I am turning left?" or " Oh, why is this other goddamn car moving so close to us? What if he hits my love?" or "Oh God, please dont make me hurt him with my stupid driving". Anyway, we reached office but a little late (thanks to the fact that we are very "early" risers) and could not find the best parking spot. Disappointed, we parked him wherever we could and rushed to work. However, S went downstairs during lunch time and re-parked him in a better spot (in fact one of the best because it was a wider one) and all was well with the world again. Until evening !

We came back to our sparkling new car ready to go back home from work and what else should we see but a brilliant white, unusually long streak of bird poop all over the passenger seat side !!! Now, why a stupid bird chose OUR beloved car (of a few dozens) to relieve itself of its burden and how it (yes, even though its a living thing, I call it IT !) managed to do it in that unusual fashion, splashing its waste all over like it was some wonderful paint, confounded us. We were both silent during our ride home. And then it hit me (and probably S too though I am the more vocal one).

However much one might consciously take care to do the perfect thing in life, one just cannot stop shit from happening. And when shit does happen, unnecessary attachment to things (or even people or the ego-self) only brings sorrow. There will always be somebody or something that will act in a displeasing way, that will slander one, streak poop all over one's seemingly sparkling self. This is unavoidable. Period. The best that one can probably do in that situation is exactly what S and I did after getting back home. Take a pair of clean disinfectant tissues, wipe out the shit and walk away as happier people !

P.S. Yes, it is easier said than done :)

Kaksparsh (Crow's touch) - A review

If someone asks me to name some of the best movies I watched in the past year, 'Kaksparsh' (a Marathi movie) would definitely score amongst the top three. The most remarkable thing about 'Kaksparsh' is its strong story-line.  The writer, Usha Datar and the director, Mahesh Manjrekar weave a gripping tale set in pre-independence India, capturing an entire gamut of emotions such as love, jealousy, selfishness, friendship, fear, superstition, hypocrisy, frustration,  in short - the good, bad and ugly of that age.

The protagonist, Hari dada (played with flawless excellence by Sachin Khedekar) is the head of an orthodox family in a coastal Maharashtrian village. When his younger brother, Mahadev tragically succumbs to illness leaving his barely 14 year old widow, Uma behind, Hari performs the final rites according to Hindu customs. The last ritual that remains is to offer a ball of rice (called 'Pindam' in Sanskrit) to a crow (called 'Kak' in Marathi) that is believed to be a messenger of the departed soul. Hari and the other priests wait under the scorching heat for a crow to touch (called 'Sparsh' in Marathi) the Pindam but in vain. Finally, Hari vows over his brother's soul that he would not allow another man to ever touch Uma. Just then, a crow flies over and sanctifies the Pindam with its touch. Whether this was merely co-incidental or otherwise, is left to the viewer's interpretation. The rest of the plot reveals to what extent Hari can go to ferociously protect Uma and to what avail. We also get to see what the impact of Mahadev's death was on Uma who barely even understood the concept of marriage when she was banished from 'civil' society for life.

This movie is not for those who wish to feel light-headed after watching one. It is serious cinema in all its gravity. It highlights the horrible (in fact, evil) practices that prevailed in that generation - child marriage and ostracizing of widows. It also succeeds in beautifully bringing out the 'grey'ness in human character - why and how people become what they are and how they get trapped in that being to the extent that they believe that is the right way of life. In the case of Hari, the honest and forthright stalwart of a man, the 'grey' factor is exuded in the way he (albeit, unintentionally) puts another life's existence at stake so that he himself remains true to a promise given to a dead brother's soul, that too - after the soul's departure.

Extremely thought-provoking and sometimes sowing a seed of disgust at the treatment meted out to women, 'Kaksparsh' can twist the sinews of one's heart in certain scenes. What is more tragic is the fact that this piece of fiction was and continues to be the reality of hundreds of Indian widows in Hindu society. 

In short - a must see movie if one can understand Marathi and does not mind occasionally using some brains while watching movies.

Hats off to YouTube Maami and Maama !

On the face of it, they seem a typical, traditional, possibly also orthodox Tamilian couple staying in Srirangam, the small, well known temple town near Trichy, Tamilnadu. Yet there is something extremely atypical about Mr. and Mrs. Radhakrishnan (known as Srirangam Radhu, Youtube Maami/Maama) who own a YouTube channel with about 500 videos featuring various recipes,  traditional prayers and tips. They say that it all started with their son marrying a Canadian and settling down in Canada. Mrs. Geetha Radhakrishnan, a retired school teacher, with the expert assistance of her husband, made a recipe video for her son who was missing traditional home food. What started with a single video for a family member is now a full blown channel guiding tens of thousands of amateur cooks across the world through simple indian (especially, south indian) recipes.

If one can understand Tamil, one would observe that merely watching a 5 minute video of theirs, gives a sense of home. While maami(aunty, in Tamil), clad in traditional everyday south indian attire does all the culinary action - cutting, grinding, frying and roasting, maama (uncle, in Tamil) keeps trotting behind her with his video camera, asking curious questions and cracking occasional jokes. Every video ends with an 'all the best' for the viewers (originally meant for just their son) and sometimes with a jocular "Try panni paarungo. It is our maiden venture too. Eppidi irkaporado engalukke inime daan teriyum" (You try this and see. We ourselves will know how its going to taste only now since this our maiden venture) from maama.

What amazes me about this couple is their acceptance of cosmopolitanism and change while still being soaked in Tamilian tradition. One will observe maami using words like 'desiccated coconut' and 'fenugreek seeds'. Every now and then, she also seems to be suggesting her son to use lesser chilli (peppers) than she is using in the video because 'enga aatula engalukku ippidi pudikum. aana unga aatula kaaram aavaade avalo." (In our home, we like it a little spicy but in your home, spice is not preferred). They definitely do not seem to be moping about how their son is missing Indian food.  They do not seem to be complaining that they are having to do things which their parents or relatives or neighbors are probably not. Instead they have embraced technology, learning to use the camera, uploading on YouTube, adding a western touch and variety to their recipes every now and then (evident in corn cheese pulao, oatmeal idli, 7 in 1 cake etc.),  responding graciously to fans, sharing traditional cooking tips, explaining how to perform prayers during festivals (how to arrange items in front of the deity etc.) and so much more. I think it is this open-mindedness and the enthusiasm that deserves a salute.  And I am sure I am not alone in my praise and admiration for Mr.& Mrs. Radhakrishnan.

"I would be lucky if I pass..."

... is what they generally say, while secretly they know they will do much better than just pass in an exam.  I am tired of such people. I mean, really.. what is their problem? I have seen them at school, lying over every petty thing. Then in college, lying over bigger things, acting miserable after an important interview while actually expecting an appointment letter any minute, making up low scores for the benefit of peers, especially "competitors" and of course, flinging the classic "I did not study at ALLLL.." piece of crap every now and then. Then I saw such rats at work, feigning as much disgust as they can over managers, clapping along with you over a light conversation about work, nodding vehemently about how we should all go talk to boss's boss about the former's oppression etc.. and at the same time, shamelessly sneaking into the boss's room and vomiting every single sentence and expression on him/her. Eeeeeeiiuuwww! 

What I did not however expect was to see such rodents here in graduate school, where one comes mostly to learn (at least that is the hope) and not to only score higher than some other random person. But NO! I was wrong. Grad school is not free of this kind of infestation. In fact, here people go a mile extra in such nonsense..."Oh, I have a problem with my brain, I cannot understand things so much" or "I got so confused in the exam, I did not know what to write, I might just fail" or "I just passed. I was given grace marks just for my attempts. I did not write anything" (Really? Was the teacher a fool? Or am I a fool?")  or "Thank God I am not the least in the class. When she said the least score was **, I was so sure it was me." or "Oh the interview? I did not understand a single question. He asked something, I answered something else".... and the list goes on.

If you ask them about their lying and such, you get wonderful answers. "I REALLY thought I would fail, it was just luck that I topped the exam. A miracle. Trust me" (Yawn!). Here is another interesting one. "I am protecting myself from the evil eye." (Uhh !!! Psycho!!!)

I have some news, mostly bad, for such people and it is as follows- "Nobody (except another stinker) cares about your grades or your interviews or your jobs and you know why? Cos you stink. Yes, you do. I know its kind of difficult to take but if you carefully sniff around you will realize that a truck load of stink is emanating from you. And you know who really people care about? Those who change the world. So every time you wag your tongue to lie about how horrible some worthless exam/interview was, ask yourself if you are going to win a Nobel prize for your performance. If not, do the whole world a big favor by stopping your wagging instantly. Thank you".

Companionship

Yesterday was a very special day. I had the privilege not just to enjoy a wonderful, inspiring,  melodious and transcending music recital but also to closely observe the true essence of companionship.

After the concert, it was dinner time at our host's home (I should rather say, palatial mansion). Amongst the 'Rasikas' (audience), there was a very old couple. Looking at them, one would estimate their ages to be 70+. While the elderly gentleman was able to just manage to walk, the lady was almost limping even with a walking stick. They both silently entered and enjoyed the music sitting next to each other. When it was dinner time, the gentleman got up while the lady continued to sit. He slowly made his way to the buffet place and meticulously filled a plate with food. He then walked carefully balancing the plate in his hands, to his wife and handed it to her. (It seemed like she was not healthy enough to help herself). He did not stop there. After handing her the plate, he went further in another direction and got her two pieces of tissue, while she gave him a beaming smile. If THIS is not true companionship, what is? I was immensely moved at the sight.

If you think I am promoting the concept of marriage by taking this sweet couple's example, you are mistaken, as even I was. Yesterday, I also came to know of a person who has lived alone for more than 2 decades (and yet is extremely cheerful and amazingly talented). He seems to find the greatest love and joy of existence in his own company, basking in the glorious light of his principles of simplicity.  And no, he did NOT show hints of any depressive tendencies (for the psychiatrists out there!) or misery. In fact, he is a great musician and a mathematician and am so fortunate to know him. If one is one's own true companion through the thick and thin of life, what else can one ask for? If THIS is not happiness, then what is?

Its is only a matter of choice - marry or remain single. The important part is to be true to the relationship (with partner or with oneself, respectively) in spite of what society's rules for men and women are, in spite of what one's relatives (including the closest ones) think or expect.

Dusshera - A celebration and an awakening

If you ask me what my favorite festival - I would call it Dusshera (or Dasara, the way South Indians call it). The festival lasts 9 days/nights (also called 'Navaratri') culminating in 'VijayaDasami' (the victorious tenth day). Different parts of India celebrate Dusshera in different ways - some as a home coming of Lord Rama after vanquishing the demon king, Ravana; some others as the victory of Mother Goddess Durga over the demon, Mahishasura.

In South India, Dusshera is a season of dolls, prayer, songs, dance, sweets and sharing. My mother would usually start cleaning our home about a week ahead (including re-arranging the attics, giving away unused stuff and throwing away unusable stuff). We would then have a wonderfully decorated living room, with several dolls arranged as creatively as possible. (I remember one of our neighbors used to actually 'build' doll houses from cardboard sheets, paint them and create little doll cities, doll farms, doll hospitals etc). In our home, thanks to my mother's passion for miniature dolls of all kinds (porcelain, indian clay, metal, plastic etc) and creativity, we never fell short of materials or ideas. Oh and we also bought at least one new doll every year.

And then there would be visiting the homes of friends, either for 'Prasad' (consecrated food) or for Pooja or for sharing savories /sweets or just for fun. Though it seems silly to me now, I used to fidget so much when someone asked me to sing a song or chant a 'shloka'. It was probably the discomfort associated with adoloscence. As far as I could remember, that was the only displeasing factor about Dusshera to me. I so miss those days now. My mother still does all of the above and much more but I can no longer be home during the festival.

These days, the celebration of the demon-vanquishing part of Dusshera has begun to appeal to me more than ever before. As the legend goes, Mother Durga fought with the fiery demon for 9 whole days incesseantly, until she destroyed him for ever. To me, this signifies two things - the continuous human struggle with inner demonic qualities and the ultimate success (this is a popular metaphor) and the power of the female aspect in humans.

I feel that the whole legend of 'MahishasuraMardini' deals with both the above aspects. Even in everyday life, women are indeed much stronger than men. They show more determination, more resilience and more forbearance. Women can swallow not just their own failures but also of their men, much better and more readily than men can. That is probably why a woman can draw more from her huge reservoir of inner strength in the face of life's hardships. However, since God is known as the famous leveller, women also suffer from lack of unity. It is amazing how much they crave for attention and acceptance from the opposite sex than their own. It is sometimes disgusting to observe how much a woman can maliciously manipulate situations just so that another woman falls down in the eyes of some man. In short, a woman can be as sinister as she can be beautiful.

I am a woman myself and I understand the short comings of my kind. In spite of these hard truths about women, I am proud to be one because we can do things which no man usually can. (I said usually because there are also great men who transcend our definition of the usual man, who lived grand lives and died working for the upliftment of humanity). All the same, I am also ashamed that we tend to direct all our potential in gaining a 'certificate' from the men in our lives, instead of working towards enriching our self-esteems, instead of contributing positively to at least one person beyond our immediate families. I have no qualms in accepting that I am also afflicted with this general problem. So,  the coming of Dusshera is acting as a reminder of the true potential of feminine energy and how we can direct that energy to make the world a better place to live in, just as Mother Durga used all her strength and power not to prove to some other woman that she was greater/more beautiful than her or to win some man's 'human love' but to a greater purpose which was to relieve the earth of demonic qualities (as personified by Mahishasura).

The MOTHER of all diseases

Nope, this ain't about AIDS or cancer. If it is true that most diseases have their root in the mind, then the darling mommy of all of them, according to me is - PROCRASTINATION. And I have been suffering from chronic procrastination since I was born. Yes, I think was ok until I came into this world because I was told I woke the hell out of everyone when I arrived at 5:00 am (wow, right?). And then, I saw the world, cried my bit and probably made a firm resolve - "what can be done today can also be done tomorrow, what can be done tomorrow can be done the day after". Bah ! Since then, as far as I have known, it always required an enormous, bitter struggle with mental and physical inertia to wake up as early as that. It is one thing to get up late and it is another to brood about how I got up so late for the rest of the day. And doing things at the right time? Hmm.. lets not even talk about it. I am tired !

I have read my share of books, seen many inspiring lives - including those of ants, bees and the like. In vain! I like living in the moment. So I enjoy it by postponing all important boring things :P.

No, I do not actually enjoy it. I stand as a witness to time floating past me and when it reaches the corner of the street, I start running as fast as I can to catch up with it. Call it luck or Divine Providence or Karma, I have never NOT caught up until now but I am sure my so-called luck balance is fast diminishing.

Recently, an experience sent shudders in me and woke me up. I spent a few days after that in a trance and consciously chose every single moment, to NOT procrastinate. And I was amazed at how much I could actually get done in 24 hours. I finished all my assignments in time, read a couple of books, completed all paperwork, cooked, did laundry, sang, danced. But then, as all good things have to come to an end, the trance is wearing off. However, the mental bliss, the satisfaction that it was time well spent, the memory of the slow and steady progress in work, the memory of the calm.. ah! I probably do not need a trance now. The memory is enough to get me going.

No, I still do not get up at 5. I can manage a 7:30 maybe. When I do become a regular at "Early to bed, Early to rise", I will throw a blog party (by writing a couple of blogs about it). But I do have other tiny accomplishments over the past fortnight. So yay for now :)

Ending this post with "the health anthem" -

Say Booooo to the mommy of diseases

To the one who breaks our peace to pieces

To the one who strongly refuses to leave us

Say booo booo booo to the mommy of diseases

Peace !