Hodgepodge and Balderdash

Too much...

2012-02-06T21:34:00.003+08:00

Too much going on. Too much to pen down for you guys. But too little time. That's my dilemma. And that's the main reason why I have been off this space for months. I have had a few well- meaning friends bug me about not writing anymore. I have had threats issued to find time to write and what not. But when your mind works only in the form of to- do lists, you simply just don't have the time or energy to pen down whole paragraphs or even finish a single thought.

So, you guys wondering what has been happening since my last post? Loads. And like I always do when I am in a hurry, I revert to the good old bullet point post. :) So, here goes.

- Some good things have been happening- to people who really mean a lot to me. And after the hellish month that was December, its a welcome change.

- The realization that change is inevitable strikes yet again. You just simply try to ignore it and go about life expecting stuff to work out the way you planned it. You think the world is your oyster and there's nothing that cannot happen if you will it. And then bang! Out of the blue life deals you a card that leaves you gasping for breath. Changes are in the offing in my life. But its all too early to comment on it. Suffice to say, I'm keeping my fingers and toes crossed and hoping fervently for the best.

- Mom's the best- always. Having my Mom around for the past couple of months has really helped me to get through a lot of things. She's been my biggest cheerleader till date. Yeah, we still pick huge battles that seem like they will culminate in another World War but, at the end of the day she's my bestie.

- Its a boon to have a few people in your life who never fail to put a smile on your face. Be it a late night chat session or an unexpected phone call, they show you they care in some way or the other everyday.

- Appreciation, when it comes from unexpected quarters, can simply make your day. Let's just say, someone whom I respect a lot told me a few things about myself that I will surely cherish for the longest time.

- Everything that happens in life changes the person you are. Some affect you more than others but they also take you one step closer to the person you are meant to be. Acceptance of that fact does not come easy but, when it comes, it fills you with such peace you wonder why you even fought it before. I have not attained nirvana yet but, I have realized there are things that you simply have to let go or let be. Fighting it or worrying about it will only make you suffer.

- I have realized that scars matter. If you go through life and you don't have a few scars to show for it, you have missed out on something in life. You haven't lived fully. They show what kind of a life you have had, what kind of a person you have been. Like I read somewhere, "Scars remind us where we have been."

So, that's it for now from me. I know its a little hurried and might sound like a mish mash of things. But gimme a couple of days and I'll be back better than ever before. :) Much love...

A New Year and A New Me

2011-12-30T23:27:00.002+08:00

Its been a while since I paid any kind of attention to this space. In fact, it has been quite a while since I paid attention to a lot of things including maybe the people around me. People who read this blog may think this is a record of everything that happens in my life. Wrong. It is not. It is only a record of what I choose to share with the world around me. It does not qualify as a journal that faithfully records every single thing that happens in my life. Neither is it a reflection of everything that I feel or experience. It is merely a peek into certain things that pepper my life.

I haven't blogged for almost a month. If you are wondering why, I have a ton of reasons- none of which can be mentioned on this space. Suffice to say, I have been going through a lot of things which have caused me a lot of pain but have, in the process, made me a much stronger person. It has made me rethink my life, rethink my priorities, rethink my faith in things. It has made me realize that there are some experiences in life that alter you so undeniably that you wonder if you would ever recognize the person you used to be before. It had made me realize that there are few things in life that matter more than the love and support of those close to you.

I have always believed that writing was an escape for me- something that kept me whole. But now, I realize that there are certain things that even my writing can't help heal. I have tried my best for the past few weeks to put something into words. But my mind refused to string together anything remotely coherent. And what my mind wanted to put into writing were the things that were much too personal to be shared with anyone. But now its the end of the year and I just couldn't hold myself back from penning down at least a few words for you guys. It seemed unfair to the handful of people who read this space very faithfully. I especially missed blogging on the 24th of this month. It was the birthday of someone who has been a soulmate. I desperately wanted to write something for her but when I tried all that came out were tears. The same day was also the 3rd birthday of my blog. I wanted to give you guys something special but again, I couldn't.

But today, I wanted to write. Even if its just to wish you guys a very Happy New Year. I hope the coming year is all that you wish for. I hope it brings you joy, happiness and good health. The company of good friends and the love of family and everything else that you dream of. And when you are bringing in the new year, and wishing for whatever your heart desires, say a tiny little prayer for me. Believe me when I say I need it.

Until next year, much love and hugs... I'll be back... Very soon...

Booking Through Thursday- 10

2011-12-01T22:47:00.001+08:00

Do you find that your mood affects the things you read? Like, if you’re in a bad mood, do you tend to indulge in reading that will support it or do you try to read things that will cheer you up? Do you pick different types of books on dreary, rainy days than you do on bright sunny ones?

For that matter, does your mood color what you’re reading, so that a funny book isn’t so funny or a serious one not so deep?

My mood actually plays a major role in what I am reading. Most of the time I pick up books that catch my fancy or appeal to me in some way. But sometimes when I'm tired with the world or in a black mood, I prefer to pick up easy, happy books that put me in a good mood. I pick up easy books the most these days especially since I have started working. I like the feeling a light breezy book leaves me with and with the stress at work, I prefer not to read something that will put me in even greater stress.

I try to read anything and everything when I'm in a good mood. But when I'm feeling down i the dumps, I prefer not to wallow in sadness or self pity any more than needed and so switch over to a light read to feel better. The weather however does not affect my reading habits. :) If I am happy or even in my normal mood, I read any book, irrespective of the weather. But I have to say my favourite weather for reading is when its raining. Rain and a good book is like a match made in heaven. Add some cappuccino or hot chocolate to that mix and you have got heaven :)

And yeah, my mood does color what I'm reading. I try not to read anything serious when am sad or pissed. Primarily because nothing makes sense when I'm in either of those moods and also because I am the kind of person who cannot be at peace until the conflict is resolved or I am back at looking at the world through rose tinted glasses.

So there, that answers all of todays questions and since wordsmithing is not coming easy to me today I shall take your leave and be back tomorrow with better fare to tempt you. :)

Wordless Wednesdays- 9

2011-11-30T22:42:00.001+08:00

Another snap from the holiday. :) Hope you guys love it as much as I do.. :)

Where I Rant...

2011-11-28T20:23:00.003+08:00

Another weekend has been relegated to the annals of the past, and here I am on yet another bright Monday although, it needs to be seen how long this Monday will stay bright. The climate unfortunately does not reflect my state of mind. I hardly feel cheerful today. I am sleepy and tired and pissed. You ask why? Nothing serious I tell you. Just random things. You know, like an irritable fly that insists on hovering around your ears, entertaining you with its music when all you want is to be left alone. Anyways, I am not in a mood for a full fledged post today either, so I shall fall back on something that I love doing- the bullet point post.

- The weekend was OKish. Watched "Breaking Dawn: Part 1" which was a good watch. Great to finally see the much anticipated wedding and to see half of the last part on screen. Was disappointed because there weren't many werewolves running around shirtless. They gave Jacob just one shirtless scene. How unfair!! Good thing also was getting S to tag along and the fact that he didn't diss the movie like I expected and quite liked the graphics and such.

- I had plans to go out over the weekend which were totally ruined by the weather playing truant. It was sunny one minute and pouring cats and dogs the next. I even had to postpone a much needed trip to the library to stock up on books. And was left with a measly selection of feel good books to rifle through. :( Result being an irritable and snappy me acting all irritable and snappy over the weekend and practically biting poor S's head off.

- OK people, enough with the Baby B obsession already. Every news site I open, the most important discussion is about when the Bachchan's will finally release a picture of the little one, what they will name her, what kind of a person she will grow up to be, whom she will end up marrying and what not. I understand the curiosity about celebrity babies. But enough about it. The Bachchans will release a snap as soon as they manage to negotiate a hefty sum for exclusive pictures or some such. And pray tell me. what is all this talk about maybe Indians in rural areas and such will be more accepting towards girl children now that the Bachchans have welcomed a baby girl with open arms? Are you kidding me? How can you even begin to compare the first family of Bollywood and some poor farmer in some remote area of India who has trouble finding his next meal?!

- Oh and not to forget, its been 3 years since 26/11 happened. And did many of us remember? I for one, did not. I was busy doing stuff I normally do on weekends and it was only yesterday evening when I was bloghopping or some such that I realized I had forgotten. Well, I don't blame myself or the others who failed to remember. We have been under attack too many times for us to even remember all the dates and even the places. Delhi, Mumbai, Bangalore- remember? I can't remember the dates to be honest. It has happened far too many times for comfort. And when politicians praise the resilient spirit of the Indian on one hand and fatten Kasab on the other hand with the "resilient" citizen's hard earned money, all we can do is express our anger on public forums and hope that our voices get in through the thick skulls of these people and justice is done swiftly. We aped the US in naming our tragedy 26/11 after 9/11. Lets ape the way they smoked out the guys responsible for the attacks and killed them without a second thought. Else next 26/11 we will still be screaming hoarse and Kasab will be gorging on biriyani and popping bubbly at our expense.

- The latest rage in protesting is against the government's inaction regarding the "Mullaperiyar" issue. For those who are from my home state this is a very sensitive issue. Truth be told my hometown might be wiped out if nothing is done. There have been petitions doing the rounds and candlelight marches and letters to concerned politicians and the President and what not. I have no idea how this is going to pan out, but being someone who has amazing "faith" in the politics of my country I see this going on for a long time to come. After all none of the politicians or their families are going to be affected. They will have migrated to higher altitudes and better climes by then.

- And now onto something totally frivolous- what is this craze about this new "Kolaveri" song? As someone who enjoys music, I say it is an assault on ones auditory senses. Its is badly sung, has awful lyrics and other than the fact that the whole things comes out as something totally nonsensical and hence maybe a smidge funny, I just don't get its appeal. Maybe I have become old fashioned. I don't know. But if this is what new age music is going to be like, I'd stay old.

- My next rant is against news sites like Yahoo! India. What has been happening? The quality of news has dropped consistently over the years. And these days all I see are news about Bollywood, Big Boss, Cricket, Baby B and some How to crap. Not only are the articles about inconsequential stuff, they are also badly written and sometimes not even edited of proofread properly. I have been forced to check sites like BBC, CNN, Wall Street Journal, Guardian and such for some news.

So there, I am done ranting for the day and will be back with better stuff tomorrow. Until then, let me go find the Zen me. And thank you guys for reading. :) Did I tell you I love you all? :) Ciao..

Booking Through Thursday- 9

2011-11-24T23:03:00.002+08:00

What book or author are you most thankful to have discovered? Have you read everything they’ve written? Reread them? Why do you appreciate them so much?

I first discovered Ayn Rand when I was around 19. I had just started college and had come across her work, "The Fountainhead" at the library I frequented. The name of the author triggered something in me and I realized that my Dad had one of her books in his collection. I read the blurb and was intrigued. I wanted to know the whole story and so I picked it up. I remember starting the book on a rainy evening at home, in my favourite chair, sipping hot tea. And the next thing I remember was the next day morning, sitting in the same chair, staring at the rising sun, absolutely in awe of the book I had just finished reading and their author. I had sat through the night and finished the book. That was a first time for me. I had never lost track of time like I had that night. And, I wanted to read the book again, to see if I could glean something more out of it that I had missed the first time. I missed college that day. I stayed home and slept and read in bursts. I was hooked.

I could relate to her writing like I to no other author I had read so far. Something about them made me want to be like the characters she portrayed. I had always been a believer in the individual vs the collective and her works only reinforced my beliefs. Not that I agreed with everything she wrote. Of course not. But I could understand and relate to quite a lot and I wanted to read more of her works. The next book I read was "The Anthem". It was short novella and my love for her writing grew with that. Then I read "We the Living" and then finally her most famous work, "Atlas Shrugged". I still remember waiting to finish the book and I remember reading it again. And finally I read the book my Dad had in his collection, "The Virtue of Selfishness".

What I admire about Rand is her frankness and her ability to say what others don't. She does not care to conform to societal norms and expectations and that is reflected in her words and in the characters she create. They are all rebels in their own way. All wanting to change something about the way the world is not worried about the price they might have to pay for it. Her characters are all strong and although she never highlights them, they all have their own flaws. She leaves it to the reader to find them and judge them if we want to. Some might say she creates superhuman characters and presents idealistic views but to me everything she has presented in her stories is as flawed as people are in real life.

I find her characters heroic but never superhuman. I find her thoughts idealistic but never the scenarios she presents in her books. I understand the flaws but I also admire their courage to stand up for what they believe is right. I admire their courage to wage a war and sacrifice anything for a higher cause and purpose. They are strong people, albeit flawed, like everyone else. They are confident in their abilities, comfortable in their own skin and believe in the ideals they espouse. And that is rare. It is fiction, I agree but never have I wanted fictional characters to be more real than after reading her books.

I'm still reading and re- reading Rand and every time I read her work, I am inspired and refreshed. I am filled with renewed hope and faith in myself and in humanity. I am inspired to do better and be more confident in my abilities. I am on a quest to finish reading all her works and I have been reading everything I can get my hands on. I still have a lot of books I need to add to my collection of Rand. As of now I have just "Atlas Shrugged", "The Fountainhead" and "The Virtue of Selfishness" from my Dad's collection and they have the pride of place on my bookshelf. I want to add to my collection and I know it is something I will treasure, always.

As Random as Random gets...

2011-11-23T19:51:00.002+08:00

Sorry peeps for the unexpected disappearing act. Reason being a weekend of laziness that spilled over to the past couple of days and also a lack of anything remotely resembling creativity. I had hit a wall and simply could not think of anything to write. Not that I have been blessed by a visit from the Muse today but I know I can spew forth some crap and get away with it today (I know you guys will forgive me) and the past couple of days, I couldn't even do that. Anyways my weekend was the usual- lazing around, gorging on yum biriyani made by the husband, sleeping and reading. We also squeezed in a movie over the weekend- Tintin, which was OK and honestly did not live up to all the hype. I loved the animation and the story but somehow at the end of it I felt there was something missing. I had my ears all trained to catch Captain Haddock's famous dialogue and that moment passed so fast that I was disappointed. I have to say I prefer the books over the movie.

Anyways, I also did something super productive and booked tickets for Breaking Dawn: Part 1 for this coming weekend. All you haters can say all you want but, I'm not someone who's going to miss a chance to see gorgeous vampires and young shirtless werewolves running amok on a super duper huge screen. What! That's the best part of the movies. I go to ogle at the guys and a mighty good looking bunch of guys they are too. Anyways, so that done, I proceeded to finish a couple of books- Gourmet Rhapsody by Muriel Barbery and an anthology of stories compiled by Haruki Murakami on the theme of birthdays. Both books were good reads and their reviews will be up soon on the blog.

The weekend also so me watching back to back episodes of this show called "The Cake Boss" that airs on TLC. Its about this Italian guy who makes these speciality cakes and man are those cakes gorgeous or what! I wish I got to bake cakes like he does or at least get him to bake me one. Apparently the cost of these cakes range from anywhere between 500USD to 3000USD! So in between marvelling at these mega cakes and surreptitiously wiping the drool off my chin, I had a pretty good weekend. I was super duper tired on Monday and like I said, I had zilch inspiration- not even enough to jot down a book review. So I curled up and read and watched some more TV and complained incessantly to S about my muse having deserted me and my lake of creativity having frozen solid. Am sure one more day of whining and he would have drawn up divorce papers.. ;) I am that bad when I start to whine. I start of with something and then go on to how the whole world has done me only wrong in all my years on this earth and how I have suffered.To give S some credit, he does try his best to calm me down and act like my knight in shining armour all set to vanquish all who do me wrong but his patience also runs out after a while. Anyways now that I'm pretty much back on track he's getting some relief.

This past weekend was also spent talking incessantly about my Mom's visit. She'll be coming down for a visit in a couple of weeks time and I can't wait to see her. Neither can I wait to taste her cooking. I have gotten so tired of tasting my own culinary creations and also that of S and of chefs at random hotels around the city. All I want now is some sambar and rice made lovingly by Mom. At the risk of sounding cliched I have to say Mom's food is the best. And I know this is God's way of taking revenge on me for having thrown tantrums about her cooking when I was in school. The fool that I was then, I have since learnt my lesson.

So there, that was my weekend and there you have this most random post about most random happenings in my life. Forgive me, I will be back with more entertaining and intellectually stimulating stuff soon. :) Till den, take care and ciao.

Booking Through Thursday- 8

2011-11-17T21:07:00.001+08:00

Of the books you own, what’s the biggest category/genre? Is this also the category that you actually read the most?

Answering a question like this is a little tricky, especially since I'm a voracious reader and I read books from all kinds of categories/ genres. If I had to say, I would say I read a lot of fiction. I have never been a fan of anything that can be classified as non- fiction. I prefer the escape into a whole another world that fiction provides. Non- fiction, on the other hand, is more of reality and stuff associated with it. It puts me to sleep. I do read business related books, travelogues, psychology and philosophy but my usual diet is primarily fiction. And there I don't discriminate. Any kind of fiction is fine- historical, mysteries, thrillers, courtroom dramas. I am not that choosy when it comes to fiction. I read whatever I can get my hands on.

When it comes to buying books, am extremely extremely choosy. A lot of thought goes into me buying a book. Usually, I read a book somewhere- either from a library or after being recommended by a friend. And if I feel like the book has enough merit to go into my forever collection, I buy it.I rarely buy books without having read them somewhere else first, unless it is by an established author whose books I have read many times before and know the stuff they produce will be good. So my collection of books is also a motley collection of everything from- movie scripts to travelogues to classics to fiction to philosophy.

I would still have to say that the majority of the books gracing my shelves are fiction and like I mentioned before that is the category I read most. So yes, I am guilty of this habit I guess. :)

Wordless Wednesdays- 8

2011-11-16T21:47:00.003+08:00

One of my all time favourite snaps, taken at the beach at Rebak. I was strolling along with my camera when I found this pair of shells washed up on the beach. It was so pretty and so well placed that I couldn't help but click. Doesn't the whole arrangement look like a butterfly?? :) And just to clarify, the lovely arrangement is all thanks to Mother Nature.

Spare the Rod??

2011-11-15T20:40:00.002+08:00

Some days, after work, I get down at the bus interchange near my place and instead of taking a second bus, decide to walk. It gives me some much needed quiet time and I either walk lost in thought or listen to some music. The other day. as I was waiting at a traffic signal for the light to turn green so I could cross, I saw a mother and son duo. The mother was obviously hassled. She was trudging along with a ton of shopping bags and had the kids school bag over her shoulder to boot and she was definitely not in a good mood from the looks of it. And the kid wasn't helping the teeniest bit. He was cranky and noisy and insisting that his mother get him something. The drama went on for sometime with the Mom saying no and the son getting more and more persistent. All this while the crowd at the traffic signal was growing too. It was evening after all. And a weekday. A few seconds before the light turned green, the Mom finally lost her temper. And what she did next shocked me beyond belief. She slapped the kid right across his face in full view of hundreds of people.

Its no exaggeration. There were that many people there and every single person in the crowd gasped and looked away. The kid started crying at the top of his voice. By then the light had turned green and the last thing I saw as I crossed the road was the Mom dragging the kid home by his arm, him wailing at the top of his voice and her screaming at him non- stop. I could not get that sight out of my mind for the longest time. I understand that parents punish their kids all the time. It is common and in most cases even necessary. And it is every parent's right or duty or whatever to discipline their kids when their behaviour gets out of hand. But shouldn't disciplining happen in the confines of a home rather than in public? I don't claim to be an expert on child psychology or parenting. I don't have a kid of my own as yet but, I have always believed that kids should never be punished while out in public and there are hundreds of people looking on.

I remember when we were kids, my Mom and Dad would always make sure me and my sister never threw tantrums while we were out. They would make it very clear to us that whatever we wanted we had to ask for before we started from home. We were to make a little list and hand it over to them and after their consideration and much deliberation among all of us, the final list of purchases would be drawn up. And we were not supposed to throw a tantrum or ask for anything while we were out at the store. If we did, we would forgo something that was already on the list. That was the rule and we had to stick to it. We knew what we stood to lose if we made a spectacle of ourselves outside. So, most often we would be quiet and not make a fuss. And the one time one of us did throw a tantrum, Dad drove back home without shopping and made it clear in no uncertain terms that such behaviour would not be tolerated a second time. We got the message, and from then on we behaved. And the one thing I want to highlight here was that my Dad never used any kind of physical force. No beating, no sticks nothing. Our punishments were much more substantial than that. We wouldn't get the things we threw the tantrum for and in addition to that, we would face curtailment of TV hours and play time and what not. And that too for maybe a week or a month depending on the gravity of our offence. And it worked. The curtailment of so many of our "necessities" was a very scary prospect and so we decided that the tantrums were not worth it.

These days, I see these things happening everywhere- in buses, in toy stores, on the road. And most often parents resort to punishing their kids in full view of the public. And I find that hard to digest. Agreed, a full blown tantrum needs to be addressed fast because it affects the public too. And some parents use physical force as often as they can because they feel that's the only thing that will ensure their kids will turn out disciplined. It might have worked on them when they were kids but, that doesn't mean the same approach has to work for their kids. Most often, parents overcompensate for the time they spend away from their kids by getting them everything that money can buy. A reward once in a while is ok but, trouble starts when kids start taking it for granted. Then the tantrums begin and most often parents react by buying it for them than risk embarrassment in public. But the kid takes it as a validation that a tantrum will always help procure what he/ she wants. And that is what leads of a beating in due course of time.

Quest for Perfection??

2011-11-11T22:16:00.003+08:00

I am someone who takes care of herself. Its not like I have a rigid beauty regimen I follow religiously, but I do make sure that I am presentable. I know how to turn up for work, how to dress up for a party or a function and how to be when I'm home. No, I'm not a glamazon and no, I'm not someone who overdoses on beauty products. I just keep myself looking proper. I do the eyebrow threading, I go the shave/ wax routine when needed, I go for a haircut once in a while, and I even do a rare mani- pedi. My daily makeup for work is usually moisturizer, foundation,eyeliner, kajal and lip gloss. And I stick to pretty much the same stuff for parties and stuff too. I did go through a phase once where I was on a quest to own every single item of makeup known to mankind but I got over it soon. So these days, this is pretty much my routine. And, I'm happy with it.

The other day, I had gone in for my usual threading at a parlour close to my place. I dread going there because every single time I am there, the girl who attends to me forces me to go for some facial or the other. And I always refuse, politely. Imagine my surprise when the last time I was there, the girl who was doing my eyebrows looked at me with a critical eye and said, "You know Miss, we offer weight loss treatments too here". I nearly jumped out of the chair and almost lost half an eyebrow. I was lost for words, to be honest. After a few rounds of opening and closing my mouth like some ornamental fish, I politely declined. On my way back from the salon I was lost in thought as to what made her say that. Now I can understand her offer/remark if I was like 80kgs and grossly overweight and bursting out of my clothes. My horror was at the fact that I have never weighed more than 45kgs in my whole entire life and that is underweight (bordering on anorexic as any Indian mom would attest to) as any doctor would tell you. I even have trouble finding jeans that fit me for godssake! I am too skinny.

But living in a place like Singapore where even supermarket aisles look like the catwalks of Paris during Fashion Week, I'm not surprised. Here almost everyone is a size zero, everyone dresses in the latest fashions, hardly do people repeat the same outfits, everyone is in high heels even while out shopping, everyone spends on plastic surgery gladly and everyone spends hours and hours at gyms and spas and beauty centers. I can understand wanting to look good but, the obsessive need to measure and weigh and stick to some godforsaken standard of beauty is way beyond something I can even begin to fathom. I am thin, yes, and naturally so. Its all in my genes. And its not like I haven't tried to put on some more weight. It hasn't worked and I honestly don't bother. I am happy the way I am. I take care of my appearance, but its not like I spend hours every week at spas and salons. In fact, quite the opposite.

I have never been someone who was conscious of her appearance. I just work at being presentable. I don't go for facials, mani- pedi's, spa treatments- you name it. I even started taking an interest in my appearance only when I started my post graduate studies. We were expected to be well groomed as future managers of the world and that is what I try to be. I do like dressing up once in a while but am sure I will never spend obscene amounts of money on surgery and stuff in some twisted attempt to retain my youth. These days you see many products/ salons/ fitness centers/ other establishments offering these kind of products and promises. You have creams, lotions and potions to whiten and lighten and thicken and lengthen and shorten and what not. You have everything from split end rectifying treatments to toenail strengthening serums. And every single one of these woo women with a statement that goes something like- you deserve it or you're worth it or some such crap.

You have ads telling people that being fair is the be all and end all of life. You have ads showing grey hair is bad. You have ads showing women depressed because of a broken nail or unshaven legs or lackluster eyelashes. And mind you, the women shown in these ads would be perfect in every other way than that one shortcoming the product aims to rectify. So, I ask, why would a woman, who looks like a model otherwise, be worried if she's not exactly fair, or worry about nails that break soon? Isn't that sending out an awfully biased and moreover utterly twisted message to the viewers. Agreed, most of us are knowledgeable and would know better than to believe stuff like that, but the majority will be gullible enough to buy in to what is being shown. Isn't this kind of propaganda forcing people to try and attain some convoluted ideal of beauty as depicted in these ads? Isn't it going to affect their self esteem, and make them feel inadequate and ugly?

I wonder. In a world where almost everything seems to work on the basis of looks and beauty and physical perfection, would intellect and aptitude and wisdom be enough to make the cut? What kind of a world are we bringing our kids into? I am not saying people should not look good. They can and they have every right to. But why the obsession with perfection in every way? Isn't a little imperfection endearing? And why not portray someone who is plus sized looking beautiful, someone who is short and dark or someone who does not have the clearest skin? Does it matter, honestly? As long as one is comfortable in one's own skin and is smart and intelligent enough to not care about these lofty ideals of beauty, it truly does not matter. But still, I wonder, will the attitude of someone looking at them ever change? Or will that be colored by this ideal perception of beauty as evinced by these ads. I feel so. How many times do we see in movies and TV series, the goofy, socially awkward, not very pretty/ handsome girl/ guy being made fun of? How many times have we seen fat people being made the butt of jokes in movies? How many times do we see people who are dark skinned being discriminated against? The list could go on and on.

I wonder if our attitudes will ever change. If we will ever learn to look beyond the superficial. If we will ever learn to appreciate the variety that exists in every facet of life. I have three precious little nieces and a lovely sister growing up and moving into the world. They are all pretty and smart and intelligent. None of them conform to the ideal of beauty. One of my nieces recently had an allergic reaction and was worried she wouldn't look pretty enough. She's just hitting her teens. I told her it didn't matter. She was smart, honest, intelligent and beautiful in her own way. It did not matter if there was a slight imperfection. All her qualities more than make up for any perceived shortcoming she might have. And the same is the case with all women I know. No one need aim to be better. Everyone is a little slice of perfection in their own way.And she believed me. I hope my words hold true when she's ready to take on the world on her own.

Booking Through Thursday- 7

2011-11-10T22:32:00.003+08:00

E-readers like the Kindle and iPad are sweeping the nation … do you have one? Do you like it? Do you find it changes your reading/buying habits? If you don’t have one, do you plan to?

The foray of technology into the world of words is something that I feel deeply about and I believe I had blogged about it a while back. I think it was around my birthday when S wanted to get me a Kindle so I could read on the move. But I refused and I know I will keep doing it. I have never been a fan of e- readers or of even reading on the laptop. I read online only when it is absolutely essential or when I want to read a book so desperately and simply cannot find a hard copy. Otherwise I prefer a proper book. I have had people asking me why I haven't gotten an e- reader. I have had people singing praises of these miracle gadgets. I have had people telling me it is convenient and light and easy to carry around, but I have always stuck to my guns. No e- readers for me.

I don't think an e- reader can ever replace a book. True, its more eco- friendly when you think of all the trees you can save if you don't buy books. I know an e- reader is more convenient because you can carry around hundreds of e- books at a time as opposed to a normal book which is bulky to have with you while on the move. But somehow, I cannot bring myself to like it. I believe half the magic of reading is in opening the pages of a brand new book and inhaling the aroma that the fresh pages give off, or cautiously opening up and old book and smelling the antiquity that exists in its yellowing pages. There is magic in writing your name neatly on the front of the book, the smell of the ink mingling with that of the book. There is magic in every stay smear, every crease you can identify in an old book. Books have character. They tell stories. whereas an e-reader has none of it.

Our lives are increasingly dominated by technology these days. I spent my days in front of a laptop tapping away. Its a part and parcel of my work. I have a smart phone that helps me check my mails, keep track of my friends and even shop on the go. I am always connected- making and taking calls, sending mails, preparing documents. reading is an escape for me, a break from all this technology. But when reading itself becomes a part of the technology that dominates almost ninety percent of my life, it loses its magic, its appeal. I want the time I read to be a break from everything that is technological. I want it to be that magical time when its just me and the book- curled up on a couch or my bed, under a warm duvet, a steaming cup of hot chocolate by my side. That's what I want. I don't want to be sitting stiffly, swiping my fingers over a touchscreen and finding it difficult to even turn on my side because the reader isn't as pliable as the book. I hate being extra careful about spilling something on the reader and risking its death. I am careful around books too, but a spill on a book isn't life threatening. The book ca be salvaged. And somehow, every time you open that particular book, you remember something about that day or that incident. Its magic, again.

Also, from the time I was a kid, I always imagined having my very own library at home (I'm in the process of building it, book by book)- huge shelves stretching all the way from the floor to the ceiling, dappled sunlight falling on the huge desk in the middle, a comfortable reading chair and a daybed, and hundreds and hundreds of books. I simply don't want to replace the whole thing with an e- reader which stores pretty much all of my books. I know it sounds cliched and silly but, that's what I've always wanted and I don't plan on changing it- technology be damned!

Wordless Wednesdays- 7

2011-11-10T22:27:00.001+08:00

Before I start to answer today's BTT question, let me apologize first for not putting up a picture yesterday as part of my Wordless Wednesdays thread. To be honest, it slipped my mind. The past few days have been crazy for me (hence no blogs on Monday and Tuesday) and when I typed out the whole post about cartoons yesterday, never once did it occur to me that it was a Wednesday. I blame the holiday on Monday for it. So to make up for the error, I have put up the picture today. Forgive me for using the same heading but lets just pretend its Wednesday for a short while ok?

And, this is where I want to be right now... :P

Cartoons Anyone??

2011-11-09T22:36:00.002+08:00

I normally watch something on my TV, or on my laptop when I'm having my dinner. Its like a part of my daily routine or you could even call it a nightly ritual I guess. Some days, me and S watch the same shows, like F.R.I.E.N.D.S. or we watch a movie we both love. Some days, S watches something on his laptop and I sit through episodes of my favourite shows like Master Chef and CSI and Bones. But there are some days when all these bore me. When I'm not in the mood to watch the real world and all that mimics it. When I fall back on bits of my childhood and some of my best childhood memories, and go back to watching cartoons!!

Yeah, you heard right! I watch cartoons. I am the biggest fan of the Tom and Jerry franchise you could possibly find. I think they are like timeless entertainment. They are like these classic Hollywood movies, like "Breakfast at Tiffany's" or like "The Good, The Bad and The Ugly". You can watch cartoons at any point in your life, and be certain that you will be entertained. You will laugh and laugh with abandon. And you will find something that makes you smile long after you are done watching it. They are sure to entertain you and cheer you up, no matter how down in the dumps you are. And that is the best thing about cartoons for me. They bring out the child in me, make me feel silly and tell me that silliness is good. They make me laugh at the stupid, the inane things in life and teach me not to take life too seriously. And they take me back to my childhood- those days when nothing troubled my mind, where everything was fixable and I had no worries.

I still remember the advent of cable TV in our homes and the subsequent discovery of Cartoon Network. Although we subscribed to the cable network pretty late, me and my sister were hooked onto Cartoon Network the minute we discovered it. It was absolutely essential for us to watch at least an hour of cartoon after school. But it had to be limited to an hour. My parents were strict that way. We were also required to go out and play and read books and stuff too and not vegetate in front of the TV all the time. The only day we could afford to do that was Friday. That was the day we could sit around and watch TV till it was time for Dad to get home. Oh what fun it was! Every day after school, the house would be ringing with laughter- mine, my sister's and sometimes even my Mom's.

I remember the shows we had back then. I think most of them are still around- "Johnny Quest", "Spiderman", "Batman", "Tom and Jerry", "Captain Planet", "Scooby Doo", "The Road Runner Show", "Swat Cats" and many more. I remember watching Johnny Quest, it was a favourite back then. I still love the Johnny Quest theme music. I think I have it somewhere on my laptop. :) I loved Tom and Jerry and still do. I have almost 40 episodes on my laptop which is like a quick fix for me when I need some cheering up. I sometimes even watch Scooby Doo on YouTube when I'm in a silly mood and just want a good laugh.

I remember my sister watching "Dexter's Laboratory" (she was, and still is a geek;)) and "Powerpuff Girls". I remember fighting with her over which shows to watch. I remember the umpteen number of times we have watched reruns of the same episodes and laughed over and over again at the very same things. I remember missing these shows as I grew up and cartoons ceased to be cool. But my love for animation was alive and remains so to this day. I watch all Disney Movies. I watch all animated movies for that matter and I enjoy them all. I laugh as loud as any other kid. And I don't mind if people label me a nut case. My sister seems to have grown out of this love for everything animated, but I remain a fan to this day. And even today when I watch these toons, they take me back to the time I was 8 or 10, back home after a long day of school, sitting and having my evening snack and laughing at the antics of these much loved characters.

Ah, the joys of childhood!!

Off My Bookshelf- 5

2011-11-04T22:02:00.003+08:00

Title: No Longer At Ease

Publisher: Vintage Books

Author: Chinua Achebe

I am going through a reading phase now. Not that I was ever out of it, but these days its like I want to read every single scrap of paper I can lay my hands on. So this past weekend, instead of the usual watching stuff on YouTube or being online 24X7, I read a book. And a mighty good one at that. And I shall be reviewing it today.

Chinua Achebe is an author I discovered while I was doing my degree in Literature. His very first novel, "Things Fall Apart" was a part of our syllabus and the novel had me hooked right from the title. I read it like twice before classes actually began and I was still in awe of his writing. And I was even more surprised to discover that my understanding of the book was minuscule compared to the tons of imagery, the various themes, the myriad hues of the Igbo culture and the life in colonial era Africa the book was replete with, and I had not realized. On further reading, I fell even more in love with the book, particularly with the fact that the story was told from the point of view of the vanquished as opposed to the victor. I still treasure that old, ragged and almost- falling- to pieces copy of the book (the book was a hand me down from a senior of mine, who I think, had gotten it from her senior). Since then I have been searching for more works by Achebe and when I saw a couple of his books at a bookstore back home, I was ecstatic.

"No Longer at Ease" tells the story of Obi Okonkwo, the grandson of the protagonist from "Things Fall Apart" and is almost like a sequel to it. The story begins with Obi standing on trial, charged with accepting a bribe. The story then moves back and forth to the time Obi was preparing to leave for England for his higher studies, his education being sponsored by the Umuofia Progressive Union, a group of pretty well to do Igbo men, who have taken a collection to sponsor Obi's studies to the time of Obi's returns and how his life moves forward in Nigeria. The Union expects Obi to major in law but, Obi switches to English once in England. He also struggles to come to terms with his new lifestyle there. He feels better after meeting fellow Nigerian Clara and their relationship slowly progresses to love.

Four years of study done, Obi returns to Nigeria and takes a job with the Nigerian Scholarship Board, that selects candidates worthy of scholarships to pursue further studies. Within days of his return, Obi's idealism is shattered when he realizes that corruption and bribery run rampant in his country. Although initially he rejects offers of money and sexual favours, his circumstances force him to slowly give in to the lure of money. Meanwhile a lot of things transpire in Obi's personal and professional life- with his parents, Clara, his co- workers, and with the Union that sponsored him.

Once again, Achebe has proven that African culture and folklore is as rich or perhaps richer than its colonial counterparts. His use of language,of Igbo words, symbols, folk songs and tales also make us realize that the language and culture of the tribe is rich in meaning and symbolism. Achebe also paints an accurate picture of the struggle of the tribes to accept the colonizer's ways and methods. Although they have started to accept that things will never go back to how they were in the times of their forefathers, they still find it hard to give in to everything the white man does and believes in. We also see the steady spread of Christianity and the loss of people's beliefs in their own Gods, due to the persistent efforts of the missionaries. We see a culture and a country in a state of flux- rapidly evolving and trying to change for the better, but still held back by their traditions and customs. We see Obi's confusion at wanting to hold on to some of his traditions and yet wanting to be modern and progressive.

I could go on and on but I shall stop here. I would give this book an easy 5. And the fact that its only around 120 pages long, and the story moves at an amazingly fast pace will ensure that you read it in a single sitting. Go grab your copy now. :)

Booking Through Thursday- 6

2011-11-03T19:29:00.003+08:00

All other things being equal, would you rather read a book that’s hard/challenging/rewarding or light/enjoyable/easy?

Hmm.. this one is a very tricky question. I am someone who doesn't like to discriminate between the books I read, and my spectrum of reading spreads over all genres and authors. And I prefer it that way. I hate to limit my reading to a few genres or subjects.

Coming to the question, I would have to say it depends on my frame of mind at any given point in time and also on the amount of time I have on my hands. When I'm in the middle of my workweek or going through a period where it is hard for me to find a few hours to sit down and devote myself to a book, I prefer to read something light and breezy.On the other hand, if I'm on vacation, or I have the time to actually read without any distractions and my mind is yearning for some kind of intellectual stimulation, I prefer reading something challenging. It always manages to get those little grey cells of mine back in action.

These days I try to do some serious reading on weekends- on weekends when S takes over the kitchen and I'm left to my own devices. Then I choose a serious book off my bookshelf (I have no dearth of them, I have a ton clamouring for my attention) and settle down for some hours of uninterrupted reading. Although S does interrupt in between with questions, it is a time I enjoy, 'cos I have no major worries on my mind. I remember the last couple of books I read, "The Handmaid's Tale" and "No Longer at Ease"- both by authors I admire and both about serious subjects that are bound to make you think. Although neither of the book was a labour when it came to reading it, it did get me thinking about a lot of things. On the other hands, there were books like "Atlas Shrugged" and "Meditations" that took a long time to read. It truly was a laborious process but something that I enjoyed immensely. I'm still reading Meditations by Marcus Aurelius.

On the other hand, the easy breezy books are the ones I read almost all the time. The ones that don't require me to free up large tracts of time from my daily schedule, the ones that I can try and read in snatches and the ones that don't require me to be intellectually active, if I can use that phrase. And I enjoy them too. In fact, they are a welcome respite from the day- to- day drudgery of work and travel. Its the perfect escape route for me. These are the books I try to read while I'm on the move or when am waiting for someone at a coffee shop or after a hard day at work. I have to read at least a couple of pages before I sleep and its these breezy books that serve that purpose perfectly. I have read tons of these books while I was doing my MBA too. In the midst of all the rigors of class and assignments and umpteen number of exams, there were like an oasis. It was like I could afford to shut the intellectual part of my brain down and open the doors to rest and imagination.

But if asked to make a choice, provided I have all the time in the world to do nothing but read, I'd choose a serious book. I wouldn't want to leave the world missing out on an excellent piece of literature. I would keep reading them till my brain was totally fried and I have to turn to another easy book to get me back on track. :) What would you prefer?

Wordless Wednesdays- 6

2011-11-02T22:33:00.002+08:00

Orchids are my Mom's favourite flowers and it is no wonder that my home has got quite a collection of them. :) Snapped on my last visit home. Oh, and before I forget, here's wishing a friend and fellow blogger Piya a very Happy Birthday!! :) Do check out her blog guys. :) She does some amazing writing!! :)

PS: This is my 150th post!! :D Thanks you guys!!!

Of Celebrations..

2011-11-01T21:18:00.002+08:00

Last Wednesday was Diwali. It was a holiday here for me. And considering the fact that we Indians are all about celebrations, it would sound weird if I tell you guys I did not celebrate Diwali at all. But it is the truth. One of the reasons for my not celebrating was that my Grandfather passed away in August this year and tradition demands that we not celebrate anything till his first death anniversary. Another fact is that my family has never been into big celebrations. We would celebrate all the mandatory festivals that every true blue Mallu is expected to- like Onam, Vishu, Karthika and all. And also all the minor religious festivals like Mandala masam (its the month were the temple at Sabarimala is open to the public and as per my family tradition a time when everyone is expected to refrain from eating meat etc.). But nothing was ever a huge production or even a moderate celebration.

When me and my sister were kids, my parents would always take care to spend all the festivals at their ancestral homes. It was there that we were first exposed to the rituals involved in these festivals and also the stories associated with them. Our Grandparents would make sure we knew why we were celebrating a particular festival and what were the preparations that went into it. We would wait eagerly for the holidays during Onam so we could go home and assist our Grandparents in their preparations. We would wait eagerly to go out and pluck flowers for the flower carpets and sit with Appuppan as he made his signature banana chips and payasam and wait eagerly for our Oonakkodi (new clothes that one traditionally wears for Onam). But all our celebrations would be always on a small scale.There would be nothing preposterous, nothing over the top about the celebrations at home. There was never the "we have to outdo the neighbours" syndrome. My family always took care to keep it an intimate affair. And back when we were kids, that was more like the norm, I guess. Its only these days that there is this incessant need to outdo others and to make sure you had the biggest celebration/party, to make sure that people talk about it for years to come etc.

For Onam, we would have a small sadya, a flower carpet (pookkalam) and most of the time, new clothes- if not from our parents then from our Grandparents. I still remember the Thiruvonam day, the day King Mahabali was supposed to visit his beloved subjects. Our day would start real early. We would be woken up in the wee hours of the morning to get the pookkalam ready. Then would come the mandatory visit to the temple in your new clothes. Although lazy and hungry, we would still drag our weary selves out and back in. The excitement of the day would keep us going. The temple visit would be followed by a sumptuous breakfast- usually piping hot idlis with spicy sambar and coconut chutney. And then would begin the anticipation for the most important meal of the day- lunch. We kids would normally lounge around in front of the TV while Mom and Grandmom would be in the kitchen, trying frantically to get everything done on time. I remember, in spite of a real heavy breakfast, we would somehow manage to work up an appetite by noon and then would start bugging Mom about lunch.

But we were not supposed to be the first ones to eat. There would always be a portion of everything we cooked, set aside for the King. Once that was done, and we had waited for a few minutes (to let the King enjoy his meal) we would begin our lunch. I remember the number of dishes we used to have, I remember trying to sit cross legged on the floor and eating, I remember the amazing aroma of all the food, I remember eating so much that our eyes would start drooping by the time the meal was done. After lunch we would almost always fall asleep only to wake up in the evening to hot tea and special snacks. It was a day of so much food and food memories. And the one thing I always remember from those days is the big batch of workers who used to come to our home for lunch. Both my Mom's and Dad's homes had paddy fields adjoining them and till the time I was in college, we would have a dedicated bunch of workers who worked on the land. And our family would always have either lunch or dinner ready for them on Onam. It was a tradition that we loved as much as them.

For Vishu we would have the crackers and the sadya and all. Our day would start with the traditional Vishukkani (A traditional arrangement of auspicious articles along with idols of Gods and religious texts which is supposed to be the first thing one should see on the day of Vishu. It is considered a good start to the new year) and Vishu Kaineettam (money that elders in the family gift to the younger ones). Then would come the firecrackers. It was a fun time for me, not so much for my sister, 'cos she hates fireworks. But even back then. my parents would take care to not get us to much. They were a little too conscious of the environment and also a little scared of their reckless older daughter. :) And most often, all the kids in the neighbourhood would meet at one place and pool in all the crackers we had bought and have a gala time. Vishu was never complete without the feast. And just like for Onam, we would have a bunch of people home for the traditional feast. I also remember Grandpa distributing Kaineettam to everyone who came home that day- irrespective of caste or religion.

And that was it. Our celebrations were always small, and never very expensive. We almost always had our close family around and that was it. Even our birthday's were never celebrated. We would get to wear the usual "color" dress to school instead of the uniform, we would get to distribute sweets to our friends and teachers and sometimes Mom would make a payasam for us. It also worked in my parents favour that me and my sister were born exactly 5 years apart. So we would almost always have a combined "sadya" with the payasams we liked. That was all. The only birthday of mine that was ever celebrated was my first, and I have absolutely no memory of it. The only birthday my sister celebrated was when she was 8 and she instead she wanted to cut a cake and my Grandpa decided to indulger her. There was never a cake cutting, or a party for friends or anything after that. We were not even taken out to our favourite restaurant or anything,

My parents felt that we had a very privileged life and that we should be doing something for the less privileged ones in society. So every year, without fail, for our birthdays, my parents would ensure we donated something to an orphanage or some such charitable institution. Although we were initially a little grumpy about not having a party and stuff, we both realized we were doing something far more important- something that made us as happy as the ones who were at the receiving end of our love. It made our parents happy too. So to this day, that is the way our birthdays are celebrated at home. I cut my very first cake only when I was doing my MBA, and that too because I had some super amazing friends then, who took the trouble to surprise me with a cake and gifts at midnight.These days, S sees to it that I have amazing birthdays- complete with gifts and cake and dining out and what not. But, I have to say, to this day, the one thing that gives me most happiness is doing something for others on my special day.

I always make it a point to do this at every important juncture in my life- when I got my first job, when my sister won scholarships and awards in school, when I got married, for birthdays in the family. Anything that merits a celebration, only, this is the way we celebrate. S thinks the same way too. Since the time we have been together, we have made it a point to donate to our favourite places and people, every single time we go back home. I donated my entire collection of childhood books to a boy's home close to my place. And me and my sister also donated all our textbooks and entrance coaching material to the kids there. I don't think there is any celebration to beat the smile on a little boy's face when he opens his first real story book and digs into it. It never fails to make me happy and far more content than any cake or any dinner that I have ever had.

So yes, my family might not spend big bucks on huge celebrations and shows of love and affection, but in our own way, we do celebrate- we celebrate with some very loving strangers who are perhaps even happier than we are on our special days. This is not an attempt to brag about what I do, or condemn others who believe in celebration. I know a lot of people who celebrate less than I do, and contribute to causes far more worthier than the ones I give to. I also know people who have big celebrations but yet, have a generous heart. And I also know people who don't care at all about those less fortunate than then. I just wanted to share with you guys my way of celebrating things. Tell me, how do you celebrate? :)

Weeeeekend!!

2011-10-31T16:04:00.003+08:00

Its been a long time since I did a weekend recap post, and since I'm not in a mood for any kind of intellectual dissertation today, I shall bore you guys with details of my weekend. :) Its been a while since I went out anywhere on the weekends. These days me and S prefer to stay at home and just read or watch movies or hang around and talk rather than dress up and go out. The unusually unpredictable weather has been another reason we keep indoors. It dawns sunny and before you know it, its pouring cats and dogs and then some more. The weather has been playing havoc on my health too. Like today, am stuck at home with a godawful headache and a cold and sore throat. :( And its raining bucket loads outside. I like it today 'cos I got to curl up under my duvet and sleep for a while. Anyways, I digress.

The point being, this weekend, me and S decided to go out. Now, we hadn't celebrated Diwali this year and we usually don't but S had gone out gotten himself some stuff he wanted (read video games and related equipment), and he was feeling guilty about not getting me anything. So on Friday, he very graciously declared that I had to go out and get something for myself so that his guilt could be assuaged. ;) And I wasn't going to say no to a shopping spree. ;) My original plan was to head to the newly opened H & M store here and pick out some awesome tops and dresses and stuff. But we stopped by at another mall before heading there and S marched me into this ALDO showroom. I didn't want to go in but decided it wouldn't hurt to browse around for a bit and ended up squandering my entire budget allowance on this very pretty bag.

I think S was real sneaky getting me into that showroom, 'cos otherwise he would have had to spend hours waiting for me outside dressing room after dressing room. And when I mentioned this to him, he acted all innocent and said something about getting me whatever my heart desired or something to that effect. Sneaky and smooth. Anyways so once that was done, I decided to hit the bookstore nearby. It had been ages since I went to one. I think I was kinda in mourning after my favourite bookstore here shut down. But a book addict like me is bound to relapse soon and so I did. But I'm proud to say I pretty much stuck to my resolution of not buying too many books. I just got the collector's edition of the whole "Tintin" series for my father and bought nothing for myself. :) I know its going to make my Dad real happy, since he's a huge Tintin fan.

So after all our shopping we had our lunch and decided to head back home since we didn't want to stay out for long. I don't know why but these days, me and S prefer not to go out as much as we used to. I don't know if its a good thing or a bad thing but I know that we enjoy our time together- irrespective of whether we go out or not. Anyways, the decision to head back home was a good one 'cos as always it started raining and lucky for us, we got home a little before that.

I also managed to finish an entire book over the weekend-"No Longer at Ease" by Chinua Achebe. I have been a huge fan of his works since I was in my teens and I have to say this one didn't disappoint me either. I also started on a second book "The Forty Rules of Love" by Elif Shafak and so far its a good read. Book reviews will be up soon. :) And today, since am home sick, I have been reading and watching some FRIENDS episodes on and off and trying not to do anything strenuous. I hope to get back to work tomorrow and am looking forward to the coming weekend which is a long weekend here. Am hoping I get to have some more fun then and maybe get the time to finish up some more books. :)

I'll be back tomorrow with a better post, I promise. Today, these nasty little germs have me captive and my head is all muddled up and am feeling lazy too, to boot. :P Until then, adios. I love you guys!!

The Journey...

2011-10-28T22:46:00.002+08:00

Yesterday, on my way back from work, I saw this huge gaggle of schoolgirls in the bus standing and chatting and giggling away to glory, oblivious to everything around them and to the noise they were making. As I turned up the volume on my iPod, to cover their chatter, I couldn't help but smile a little. It was a very sweet and nostalgic sight and took me right back to my schooldays when I used to do the same with my gang of friends.

We had just hit our teens, and could be less bothered about what the world thought. Everything in the world seemed to be in the palm of our hand. It was the age where you could talk for hours on end and not run out of topics. Not that I have changed now. I can still talk non- stop with some of my closest friends. Back then was the time of special classes and morning classes and evening classes and extra coaching sessions on weekends and what not. Our normal journey by school bus was not possible because of the scheduling of our classes. And so, we were forced to resort to the arch nemesis of every school student- the private bus. Anyone, in Kerala, who has travelled by a private bus will know how draining the journey is. Private bus conductors hate school kids with a vengeance that could easily upstage Satan's hatred for God. For one, we would climb in with their schoolbags, which weighed a ton, and thus use up space that could be utilized to squeeze in a few more passengers, and to top that, we would pay only ST (Students Ticket) fares. So we were always looked down with all the wrath in the world and there were even some buses which would refuse to let us on board.

Lucky for me, I had a friend who was from a family who had their own fleet of buses, and since their buses ran along the route I travelled by, I could always be sure that they would let me in. Special privileges for the "young master's" friend you see. So I would take care to always travel by this one particular bus. And a close friend of mine would board the same bus a few stops after mine. And then the chattering would start. It didn't matter that we were in a crowded bus, trying to hang on to our bags with one hand and to the grab pole with the other, taking care not to step on anyone's toes or to fall on someone. Even the passengers would be waiting for the slightest excuse to start screaming at us school kids, you see. It didn't matter that we would be spending the rest of our school day together. It didn't matter that we had to practically scream to be heard above the incessant honking and the babble of everyone else in the bus. We would just keep on talking.

We have had some of our most fun conversation on board that bus. The making fun of people, the noticing weird habits of some passengers, the giggling over someone snoring soundly, the befriending some regulars who were kind enough to hold our schoolbags for us, the talking about any changes in our familiar sights, missing someone we had become friends with on the bus and what not. We came up with some our most innovative nicknames and pranks on that bus. We giggled until we teared up. We crammed like crazy on the bus before our exams. We had our little fights and making ups there. We shared our joys at good scores or a well written report and our sorrow at bad grades there. We shared our hopes and dreams for our future there. We giggled over our crushes, discussed books and movies, bartered the latest gossip and even celebrated birthdays there.

It was like this huge part of our life back then- including the people we met everyday. And at the end of our journey, we would always have another huge group of friends waiting for us. I remember the long walk we had from the bus stop to our school- the temple we would pop into frequently (and it was not just us Hindus who went to the temples, the Christians and Muslims joined us too sometimes, especially during exam times. The excitement of being able to pop into a temple hiding your actual religion was one of our little thrills back then ;)), the cafes we would stop by for a bite, the store we would buy notebooks and stationery from, the nursery school which was in a different compound from ours, the little kids all wide eyed with adoration staring at us, the silences on exam days when we would all be busy cramming last minute. There is so much I remember.

Once school ended, and we all moved away and moved ahead in life, our priorities in life shifted, our idea of fun changed, nicknames and inside jokes were forgotten, familiar faces blurred into the dark recesses of one's memory, school days began to feel like a mirage, and it became hard to recollect the little things of childhood. But, to this day, when I see that particular bus, or when I see a bunch of schoolkids chattering like we used to, I'm taken back to my memories on board a little bus, with a little group of friends, chatting away like the journey would go on forever...

Booking Through Thursday -5

2011-10-27T19:54:00.002+08:00

What’s the hardest/most challenging book you’ve ever read? Was it worth the effort? Did you read it by choice or was it an assignment/obligation?

Books have never failed to challenge me. I always find something in a book that appeals to my intellect. Sometimes, it would be the subject matter or the theme of the book, sometimes it would be the characterization, sometimes the plot, sometimes something underlying the central theme, something that would be much more subtle, that perhaps, even the writer was unaware of it. I have a whole list of books that I found challenging at different periods in my life- like the time I started reading. Vocabulary was my nemesis then. I had to sit down with a dictionary most of the time, till I developed the knack of figuring out the meanings of words, by studying the context in which they were used.

When I started reading mysteries like Sherlock Holmes and Agatha Christie, it was trying to figure out the plot, the intricacies of the investigation process, trying to understand their intuitions. When I got hooked on to classics, it was trying to understand the long winded manner of speech used, the preposterous vocabulary and the social norms of the day that challenged me. I remember reading Westerns and trying to understand the cowboy drawl and the slang they employed.

As I grew older and the books I read started dealing with more mature and thought provoking subject matters, the challenges before me also grew. I remember reading "Moby Dick" and trying to understand the book when I was 13 years old. The book beat me then. But I went back to it when I was in college and then I beat the book hands down. I remember reading Hemingway's "Old Man and The Sea" and not able to make head or tail of it the first time around. I went back and tackled the book again. The third time around, I understood the imagery and the underlying theme of the book perfectly.

When I fell in love with poetry, it was a whole new challenge in itself. I had an even harder time understanding the underlying themes, the context and the structure of the poem. I mastered it with a lot of help and guidance. Now, I am even more deeply in love with poetry as I used to be. Shakespeare was a huge challenge in himself. To read the unabridged versions were pure torture but it gave me great joy too, to unlock the mysteries of one verse after another.

Gibran, Coelho, Rumi, Pamuk, Freud, Dostoevsky, Rand, Tolstoy, Nietzsche, Sontag, Woolf (the list could go on and on) - they all posed their own challenges every time I read one of their books. And they still continue to do so. And I continue to persevere and overcome them. And I have to say, I have enjoyed every single book, every single challenge that was thrown my way. It was like solving a mystery. And it was never an assignment or an obligation. Agreed, there were some books that I found boring initially but, after some patience and a little drudgery, I could see the book coming to life in front of my eyes.

So far, only one book remains unconquered by me - "War and Peace" by Leo Tolstoy. The story has so many characters, right at the beginning of the book that by the time you get to the second chapter, you would have forgotten the majority of the characters you were acquainted with in the first chapter. Its a huge book, almost like a dictionary in itself and I have, as yet, not had the time to sit down and devote myself to the book. I know once I manage to do that, I will be able to read through it too. So, to put it in a nutshell, I have felt many books to be challenging and I have managed to overcome all of them save one. Someday, I shall conquer that Everest too. ;)

Wordless Wednesdays -5

2011-10-26T22:37:00.001+08:00

Happy Diwali folks!!!

Off My Bookshelf- 4

2011-10-24T20:11:00.001+08:00

Title: The Handmaid's Tale

Publisher: Vintage Books

Author: Margaret Atwood

I was first introduced to Atwood's writing while I was doing my degree in Literature. We had to learn her poems and I was hooked to the style of her writing. A few months back, I had read "The Penelopiad" and I was smitten all over again and so, when I was home in May, after much scouting around in bookstored, I managed to procure this book. I was intrigued by the blurb and wanted to know more. One thing that has struck me throughout is the fact that Atwood is an extraoridnary wordsmith. Her use of language is remarkable. She doesn't use words that make you flip through a dictionary more than the actual book. She employs very simple language and employs is so effectively that you are left wondering how come you can never use the same words and conjure up the same images. Anyways, coming to the book., Atwood classifies it as "speculative fiction" which she claims is different from science fiction in the sense that speculative fiction can refer to something that can actually happen in today's world. Atwood's book is a dystopian novel, set far in the future when the US government has been overthrown and instead a totalitarian rule is in place. The main theme of the novel is the subjugation of women in this new society and how they strive to achieve some form of recognition.

The book is set in the Republic of Gilead, which has been founded and is ruled by a racist, male chauvinist organized military dictatorship. The minute they come into power, they freeze all economic activity by women and other "undesirables" in society and strip them of all their rights. They then start to put into place a society that is based on Biblical themes- highly orthodox and extremely religious where women are afforded only roles of being homemakers and procreators. The story is narrated by a woman named Offred (which actually means "of Fred" referring to the man whom she is a handmaid for, showing his ownership of her). Handmaids are basically concubines whose sole purpose is procreation which is considered of paramout importance in a society where the birth rate has been on a nosedive. The story begins with Offred's third assignment as a Handmaid at the house of someone she refers to as Commander.

Through her eyes we get a picture of Giledean society, the way it runs, the role of men and women, the justice system and what not. Interspersed through her narrative of the present are memories of her past where she was married, had a daughter and was a working woman. She talks about how the old society was destroyed, how women were stripped of all power and responsibilities and how after a botched attempt to escape with her family, she was sent to a camp to be trained as a handmaid. Handmaids are handed out to familes of Commanders and their only role in society is to reproduce. They are not allowed any other activity- no reading, no intellectual pursuits, and have to eat healthy, lead a healthy lifestyle and just focus on childbearing. Offred also talks about the different categories of women in society, the wives- who are just that, the wives of Commanders, the handmaids, the Marthas- the servant class and Unwomen, who are women who cannot conceive and are hence, of no use to society.

We also come to know that there is no sort of medical care available to pregnant women, no scans, no check ups, nothing. As the stoy progresses, we see Offred's attempts to get pregnant by the Commander, his wife's suspicions that he might be sterile (which is a word banned in Gilead as there is never anything wrong with men, only with women) and her attempts to get Offred to rendezvous with Nick, the driver so that she may conceive. We also see her developing an illegal relationship with the Commander, whereby she gets acces to come magazines ad stuff which is considered illegal in Giledean society. We see her inner turmoil. her longing for her past, her husband and her child and her yearning to return to a normal life. We also see her mute accetance of her fate, her despair and her attempts to stay positive through her ordeal.

The book is thought provoking on many leves- the opression and subjugation of women, the skewed morals of society, the segregation of people based on class and color, the squashing of all intellectual pursuits, the role afforded to men and women, and even the way newbron babies are classified set us thinking about everything that is wrong with society- both the one described in the book and the one in which we live. Overall, it is a book that is sure to make one think and think hard about a lot of things. I suggest it be made mandatory reading for everyone. It is that good. Get your hands on one although if philosphy and social critique is not your cup of tea, then you could pass this by. I rate this one 5 on 5. :)

PS: For those who don't like to read, the book has also been turned into a movie starrig Natasha Richardson and Robert Duvall among others.

Booking Through Thursday -4

2011-10-20T21:13:00.002+08:00

Do your reading habits change when you’re on vacation? Do you read more? Do you indulge in lighter, fluffier books than you usually read? Do you save up special books so you’ll be able to spend real vacation time with them? Or do you just read the same old stuff, vacation or not?

This is the perfect question for me this week, 'cos as you all know, I got back from the most amazing vacation just a couple of weeks back. And yes, I did read while I was away. And managed to finish the book I started. I am someone who tried to squeeze in some reading into every single day of my life. Be it the newspaper or a magazine or a blog, I need to read. Its like a way of life for me. And my biggest complaint since I have been employed is that I never get enough time to read. And by time, I mean an uninterrupted slice of time without any distractions or disturbances to focus just on my book. And that, is extremely hard to come by. I try to read on the weekends when S takes over the kitchen or when I feel like reading is the only thing I want to do and I'd rather order in food than sacrifice my reading for it. But it is never enough. Especially when I'm reading a book that deals with a serious subject matter. The lighter ones are the ones I primarily read on weekdays 'cos they don't deserve much attention. You don't have to spend time on reading and thinking and assimilating. You can just read and forget.

I always read when I'm on vacation. Its like the maximum amount of uninterrupted time I can hope to get in a year. And I try to cram in as much reading as I can into those few days. I read when I'm not going sightseeing or lounging around talking to S or taking a dip in the pool. I even try to sleep less and read more. Yeah, I know! You are supposed to relax on a holiday, but, for me, reading is the most relaxing activity I can think of. And so, I read.

And yeah, I read the more serious kind of books when I'm on vacation. Its only then that my mind is totally free to focus on just what I am reading and not have a million other things running around the back of my mind. So, I save all the difficult books for then. I recently read Margaret Atwood's "The Handmaid's Tale" on my vacation. It was an extremely engrossing read and dealt with issues that a re pretty close to my heart. The book is a dystopian novel and Atwood describes it as belonging to the genre of speculative fiction. I don't intend to give more details about the book but it was an extremely serious book- at least for me. The writing style and language employed was very simple but, the subject matter was extremely serious and I enjoyed the three days I spent with the book. I took my time reading about it and thinking about the issues highlighted and I know it would not have been possible if I was not on a vacation.

I try to save up all these serious books for vacations like these. I know I won't get time otherwise to read these books. Or, I might have to wait till I retire to read them. So every time we are off on a holiday, I think long and hard and pick those books that I have been meaning to read for ages and never got around to due to lack of time and pack them, and leave the fluff for the normal days when I can read in bits and pieces and not worry about not understanding the book.

Wordless Wednesdays -4

2011-10-19T20:55:00.002+08:00

And not to forget my usual series. :)

The Thattukada

2011-10-19T20:27:00.002+08:00

This morning, I suddenly had an immense craving for authentic Mallu style thattukada food. Now, for those of you who are not familiar with the word, thattukada's are an integral part of Malayali street food culture and turth be told, their culinary creations will put any world class chef to shame. The dishes are so perfectly cooked and there is nothing like standing on the footpath, trying to balance a tiny plate in your hand and tucking into piping hot thattu dosas. I'm already drooling. Thattukada's are often small covered push carts or vans that serve an array of simple food that can be found on almost all streets in Kerala. They mostly come to life in the evenings, and their business goes on till the wee hours of the morning or, in some cases, till they run out of food. And most of them have their designated spots, often around busy bus stops, outside college campuses, IT parks, movie theaters etc. Most of these places have their dedicated bunch of customers also, who keep coming back day after day for the fare that these little places dish out.

The food that is served in these places is usually very simple- the usual tea and coffee, dosas (rice and lentil crepes made with coconut oil or gingelly oil on a hot iron plate) served with coconut chutney, omelettes, quail roast, fish fry, chicken curry and fry, beef curry, the Kerala porotta (a distant cousin of the North Indian paratha), chilly bajji (huge green chillies coated in a spicy mix and deep fried in oil), banana fry (ripe bananas coated with a flour mix and deep fried) and the all time Kerala favourite- Parippuvadas ( ground lentils mixed with chilli and onions and deep fried in oil till golden brown). But the aroma of the cooking is what does the trick. It arrests your senses and beckons you to come have a bite. It is mouthwatering, especially in the evenings when you are off work and your stomach is growling for some form of sustenance. Half the appeal of the thattukada food is in its aroma. I call it "aromatherapy for the stomach". ;) heh. And for someone who believes that food should appeal to all your senses, and just not your palate, a thatukada is as close as you can get to a food spa. ;)

I always feel the difference when I eat at a posh restaurant, and when I decide to grab a bite at a local thattukada. At a restaurant, you see just the final product, and although, the food you order is usually served to you piping hot, the aroma is lost by the time it gets to your table, and between the whirr of the aircon, and the room freshener used in the restaurant, you fail to even get a whiff of what you are tucking into. But a thattukada scenario is different. Like I said, its the smell of the food that draws you in, and that is what makes you eat. The aroma of the food you are eating, lingering in the air like a gentle blanket, caressing all your senses and bringing them to life, is something you have to experience to believe.

As a kid, I had an ardent thattukada food fan at home in the form of my kochammavan- my Mom's youngest brother. He would always have an early dinner at home, and then head out for his daily thattukada fix. His usual order was always a double omelette. And on the rare occasions he would take me along, my mouth would start watering at the first whiff of the omelettes being made. But then, I grew up and as, thattukadas are considered the haunt of the male half of the population and women being there is usually frowned upon by almost all families, I was not taken along. And so, my connection with thattukada food started to fade. Some days, in school, we would try and get the boys to sneak out in the afternoons during lunch hour to quickly scout around for any thattukadas nearby, and maybe grab us also a pack of thattu dosas. It was tough, and on days we managed to get some, it would be a mad scramble to finish it as soon as our mouths could chew. It was a little easier in college. But teenage had hit in full force and thattukadas were not the place to be seen at. And I also started getting concerns about the quality of the food being served, and hygiene issues and stuff. Suffice to say, I patronized the Pizza Huts and Domino's and Subways and the naadan thattukada was just a vague memory at the back of my head. My mouth would still water every time I passed by one, but, I didn't want to eat there.

My passion for thattukada food was revived after I got married. The TS, like any full blooded Malayali male, is an ardent fan of thattukada food. He had a list of places which he described as the creme de la creme of the thattukada food world. I was skeptical initially, years of being conditioned to not liking it, refusing to fade away. And I was no longer a kid, and didn't want to stand by the footpath and eat like I used to. So TS decided to get stuff packed and bought home for me. The first time I had thattudosa after years, was like getting a little taste of heaven. It was like all my taste buds had come alive all over again. With every mouthful, my love for the food came back and I was hooked again. I sampled everything that he had bought- the dosas, the omelettes, the quail roast and fish fry, the vadas, the banana fry. Oh! it was sheer bliss. And TS had converted someone else too- my little sister, the crazy, hygiene conscious freak who always thought thattukada fare was overrated.

So now, every time we go home on vacation, a few visits to our favourite thattukada is a must. And every time I have their food, I feel all my passion for good food being reignited, my taste buds awakened from a year long slumber and a passion to cook coming alive in me. I just don't know how these places manage to make the best food. Its still a mystery to me. I do like proper restaurant food also, but, thattukada food is something else. And although I have been sick a couple of times from their food, it hasn't diminished my love for it. And so, I remain, a hard core thattukada fan. And now, I'm hungry.. :(

Unwanted?

2011-10-18T19:08:00.002+08:00

These days, both in the virtual world and the written world, I see numerous articles written about women empowerment and reams of paper devoted to spreading the message. I see organizations and random groups of people coming together to fight this discrimination, and to educate people on the many issues women face. Some days I feel hopeful and happy when I see these things and want to be a part of these endeavours. Some other days I feel utterly disappointed and lose all hope. These days I have been totally pumped by the Violence Against Women Awareness (VAWA) endeavour, started by a group of people in the blogosphere which tries to educate people on the different forms of violence women face, provide statistics (which are horrifying) on these and also provide a platform for survivors to share their experiences. It felt great to see such an endeavour taking root and I check their site everyday. Its heartbreaking to read some stories, but, most of them have a happy ending and it makes me feel good to see these women, battered and bruised for no fault of theirs, finally having the courage to stand up for themselves. One disturbing trend I noticed, was the way society treated these women who had the courage to walk out. After going through every form of hellish torture imaginable, they still end up being blamed for whatever happened. I felt bad but, I thought it was an opinion that was prevalent only among the not so educated, socially "over- conscious" people. And then something happened.

There are a few of us at my workplace who always have their lunch together. The other day me and this other girl who works with me ( lets call her E) and this guy who works in the technical section of our company(lets call him C) were chatting during our lunch hour. Somehow the topic of marriage came up during out conversation, and C who is 25, said that he wanted to be married by 28. As me and E started to tease him about not even having a girlfriend now, he went on to say that by the time he was 29 he expected to be father to a baby boy. His emphasis on the boy bit caught my attention and just to make sure I had heard him right I asked him,"Did you say baby boy?" and he said yes. And that set me off. I asked him why he didn't want a girl. And his answered left me absolutely gobsmacked. He said that girls were a lot of trouble- they rebelled more then boys as teenagers, they would have boyfriend issues which would be difficult to sort out and marrying them off was a huge expense. All though this E was silent, not even bothering to defend her own kind and C had this look on his face that showed how repulsed he was at even the mere thought of having a girl.

The next half an hour I spent arguing with him, trying to make him see that he was stupid to think that a son was not going to bring him any kind of trouble and girls would always be troublemakers. All though this E was silent and C tried to laugh it off. In the end, he got up and shrugged off all my arguments and walked away saying, that's what he wanted and it was his choice and I couldn't possibly change his mind. I didn't try to talk to him after that, but the very sight of him or even the sound of his voice has started getting on my nerves these days. Every time I see him I am reminded of why we women have it so hard. It is attitude like his that ensure that we are discriminated against even before we are even born. I sincerely hope he never has a girl 'cos I cannot for the life of me imagine the kind of attitude she would have to put up with from her own father.

And the worst part about the whole thing was that he is one of our world's youth population. The generation that is touted as being the harbinger of change in all facets of life. The educated, smart and sensible generation. Yes, C is qualified. He's an engineer. He's smart and talented and worldly wise and has clear ideas about everything in his life. But in spite of all this, he still thinks like someone from the Dark Ages. And he refuses to change his attitude no matter what anyone else says. I'm sure even if you showed him figures or statistics or whatever else, he would still stick to his belief. It scares me to think that there are still people like this in today's world, especially from our generation. A generation that has grown up with a lot of privileges, that is well educated and well aware of everything that is happening around the world, that knows about the social ills and issues that exist in today's society and yet, they choose to still believe in antediluvian principles. It scares me to think that I will be bringing my kids into a world that still believes in thinking like it was the 16th century. It scares me to think that even if I bring my kids up keeping them aware of all these issues, they will still be living among people like these. Sometimes I think even I should have a boy and not a girl. What guarantee is there that in whatever life she chooses, she will not be discriminated against or abused?

But then there are some other people I know who share my ideas and values and beliefs and strongly believe that gender is not a basis for any kind of discrimination. There are people who bring up their kids- both boys and girls in the same manner. There are people who don't force their kids to stick to gender stereotypes. And there are people who have had the courage to stand up and say no to any kind of abuse or discrimination meted out to them. And that gives me hope. Hope that this world will not turn out all that bad. Hope that these monsters will be slayed. Hope that someday I will be able to know that no matter what kid I have, I will not have to devise a different set of rules for either. Hope that someday people like C will see the light and change their attitudes. Until then I will keep fighting in every single way I can.

Lang-ka-wi 4

2011-10-17T19:25:00.002+08:00

And am back with the last day of my Langkawi diary. Sorry for being AWOL over the weekend but I had a million things on my plate that needed finishing up, and no time to actually sit down and write. So anyways without dallying any further let me get down to telling you guys about my last day at Rebak. The day dawned bright and sunny as always and like every other day S kicked me out of bed so that we would be on time for our breakfast. I am someone who likes to wake up real late and S is my alarm clock and although I had make huge promises to him that I would wake up early to watch the sunrise everyday, it never happened. So off we went for our breakfast which was delicious as usual and then S had to head for his second session at the spa. I decided to head to the beach and finish reading my book. I also wanted to shoot some pictures and I did end up taking a few fabulous shots, if I may say so myself. It was absolutely amazing to sit by the beach and read without any interruptions- no phone calls, no errands to run, no work to do. And the one thing I did on my holiday was to not check my phone or my mails. And I didn't even wear a watch while I was there. And it was perfect. It was great to walk around and enjoy the day or sit and read or just stand knee deep in the water and stare out at the sea.

That's the path from our room to the resort lobby and restaurant.. pretty right?

S was back in an hour after his spa treatment and I had managed to finish my book by then and also take some pictures. We decided to head back to our rooms 'cos S was tired after his body massage and his muscles were screaming in protest. ;) heh.. So off we went. We had plans of hitting the pool but decided to sit on the balcony and talk. There were a lot of things that we had been wanting to discuss and sort out and in the hassle of our daily lives we would usually end up being interrupted or one of us would lose our temper. But that day we managed to get quite a bit off our chests and it felt awesome to finally be able to talk without getting frazzled. We had a sumptuous lunch and then we hit the pool. The water as always was deliciously cool, there was a gentle breeze and although I was enjoying every minute of my time, I was also sad that it was my last day at Rebak.

I wanted to watch the sunset that night too and so me and S headed to the beach. And there I experienced what I would describe as the only unpleasant memory of my entire vacation. Now, the resort has kayaking facilities for its guests. You can take off and row around in the waters but you are required to stay close to the beach and not venture far off and they also don't let you take them out after 6 pm since it starts to get dark and there are rock formations that are hidden by the water which could be potentially dangerous. The resort also does not have a lifeguard on duty in the evenings. There was this group or rather a big family from India who were frolicking by the beach. There was a little girl with them who I this was about 10 or 12 and she was insistent that she wanted to go kayaking. She came up and asked one of the resort staff and he told her that they weren't supposed to let guests use the kayaks after 6. So off she went, and came back with her obnoxious uncle. He was so rude to the poor chap who had said no to the girl. He yelled at him and threatened to report him to the manager and his entire monologue was interspersed with so many F words that my ears were bleeding at the end of his tirade. The guy who was at the receiving end of the whole thing remained calm throughout the whole drama and said he had to confirm with his manager.

The beach at sunset.. :) ethereal!!

The girl got what she wanted but by then the sun had pretty much disappeared from the horizon and her obnoxious uncle who was shooting off his mouth turned out to be too lily livered to take a risk and so after like 10 minutes of trying to paddle they gave up and went off to their rooms. I felt so embarrassed with the way he behaved. He could try and make her understand how dangerous it was or try and tell her they would do it the day later but no. And with so many people present there from so many different parts of the world who were witnesses to this entire drama playing itself out, it was hard not to feel embarrassed. I do hope they don't judge all Indians by these isolated incidents. But honestly, its people like these that give our countrymen a bad name.

Anyways as the sun set, we decided to go back, dress and head out to the restaurant to have dinner. By then the skies were dark and ominous. a storm was brewing and the breeze was chilly. But we had decided to eat at the restaurant and that is what we did. We saw the rain coming down in sheets over the sea, the crack of thunder and the patterns the lightning made across the night sky. I felt it was a fitting finale to our stay there. It was nature in all her glory or rather fury, right there. We waited for the rain to pass, settled most of our bills and then headed back to our room. I did all the packing once I was back, and by then we both we so tired that the minute our heads hit the pillow, we were fast asleep.

The lights on the trees by the beach bar.. :)

We woke up early the next day morning, got dresses and checked out. I was sad to leave. I just wanted my holiday to go on and on. And as I sat on that boat that were taking us back to mainland Langkawi and watched the coast of Rebak fading away from my vision, I had a lump in my throat. I had an amazing time there and I hope someday I will be able to go back there. It was truly a magical magical experience. This, for sure, is one holiday I will never forget.

PS: Taj hospitality is truly unique. I have never been so fawned over in my entire life. Every need was taken care of, some anticipated even before it was asked for it. I will always remember Jasvin, Jalal, Muru, Puvan and the many others who were always there to meet every need with a smile. You honestly have to experience it, to believe it!!

Lang-ka-wi 3

2011-10-14T20:50:00.002+08:00

And we are back to the Langkawi diary. :) Sorry for keeping you guys on tenterhooks these past couple of days, but, I couldn't resist discontinuing my regular sections. Anyways, without further ado here we go. So, Day 3 dawned bright and sunny. I wanted to sleep in for a while, but then, S reminded me that our spa appointments were for 10.30 and I had better get my bottom (this is a PG blog after all) out of the bed. So I trudged out of bed, and got dressed, and after a superawesome breakfast which was a mish mash of Indian, Western and Tropical, we decided to pass some time at the beach before we headed for our treatments. I lazed around on the hammock, and S sat around on one of the wooden benches, and we talked. I was still skeptical about my spa treatment, and S kept telling me I was going to enjoy it. The thing is, I'm not comfortable with strangers touching me, anywhere. Period. The only things I can manage are the routine threading to make sure my eyebrows don't grow into forests, and a rare mani- pedi. Even the mani- pedi, I usually manage on my own. The only time I even got a facial done was right before my wedding, and I hated the whole experience. These days I make do with Mom's home remedies, and even that is very rare because I'm way too lazy when it comes to taking care of myself. Thank God I have good genes that ensure my skin is pretty much clear all the time. :)

The marina.. :)

Anyways, I had initially decided I did not want any treatments done, but after a lot of coaxing from S and some yelling from a well- meaning friend, who considered it absolute blasphemy to go off to such an awesome resort and not get anything done, I decided to opt for a face scrub- massage- facial thingy. Anything else, I didn't want to do. And I was happy I did it. The entire experience was so soothing. The subtle music in the background, the aromatic oils, lotions and potions, the lovely massage. I just wanted to lie there forever and savour the feeling. S had his full body massage thingy, and he was so happy all the masseurs were girls, that he promptly booked for another appointment for the day after. ;) I thought of coming back for more too, but decided against it. I wanted to explore the beach some more, take some pictures, and finish my book. We were both so relaxed after the massage that we went straight back to our room, took a shower and curled up on the balcony doing nothing. The sky was dark by then, and as we sat there, and watched the rain breaking over the sea and the island, I felt all my stress melting away. It was the most peaceful and happy I had felt in a long time. The sight of the rain, the greenery, the dark sky and the stormy seas, is one to behold. It leaves you in awe of your surroundings and of nature. You somehow realize, that you are a tiny speck in God's masterplan, and you feel so humbled. You feel all your cares are inconsequential, and most, are merely imagined. We also had a steaming hot lunch on our balcony. :)

The yachts :)

After that amazing afternoon, we waited for a while for the rain to subside. We wanted to take a walk to the marina and take a look at all the yachts we had seen. S also wanted to take some pictures. We also wanted to explore the jogging track that runs through the island, and see if we could spot some monitor lizards which the island has in plenty. So off we went, armed with an umbrella and our camera. We walked to the marina first, and although I didn't want to walk around too much, and get too close to the yachts, S was insistent and so off we went. I was surprised to discover that some yachts had people living on them. We saw quite a few couples in their late 50's and early 60's and all. They come to the resort for their annual vacation and they prefer to stay on board their yachts. There is a small store on the island that is run by the resort, that has a bare minimum of food supplies and stuff, and for other major supplies, these people make small trips to the mainland. They sail around to the little islands dotting the waters around mainland Langkawi on some days, but prefer to moor their boats at Rebak, because Rebak apparently has the only fully equipped marina in Langkawi. We walked around and took lots of pictures. The names of some of the yachts were real funny. :) And I had a fun time reading the names off them and giggling to myself.

We then proceeded to walk along the jogging track and see where it took us. But unfortunately, we couldn't proceed much. The resort is undergoing a facelift, and a lot of new facilities are being built, so most areas were cordoned off for maintenance. The wooden pier was also in a precarious state, and was being rebuilt so we couldn't get down on a couple of them. We did walk along the ones that were being used. And as we were walking around, we saw a small sapling planted by the way, and a tiny plaque that said this:

Since my spirits were a little down after our expedition, and we weren't able to spot any monitor lizards like we had hoped, S decided that we should head to the pool. So off we went. And while we were in the pool, guess who turned up? A very brave monitor lizard, strutting about like he owned the place. But, we had not taken our camera and so that little bit of our holiday wasn't captured for posterity's sake. :P But as S had promised, the little dip in the pool soothed me. Water always has that effect on me. And as twilight fell, we decided to spend some time sitting aound by the beach bar. We watched the sun go down, and since S had by then extracted the camera from our room, we were able to click some pictures. We sat there listening to the waves and watched the darkening sky and the crabs playing tag on the beach. I was feeling sad, that I had just one more day left in this little slice of paradise, but, then I cheered up and thought, I have one more day and am going to enjoy it as best as I can. And as the sun slipped down beneath the sea, and the moon came out in all her glory, me and S walked back to our room. Hand- in-hand and happy to be on such a magical holiday. :)

Day 4 tomorrow.. :)

Booking Through Thursday -3

2011-10-13T20:39:00.002+08:00

"What’s the oddest book you’ve ever read? Did you like it? Hate it? Did it make you think?"- this was last week's BTT question. And since last week I was off on my holiday and on a very short technology detox, I will aim to answer this in conjunction with today's question. :) Now, this is a question that is very hard to answer for the simple reason that I have, till date, not found any book odd. I have had trouble understanding some books and have been stumped with the style of writing employed in some but, I have always managed to understand them on re-reading. I remember the time I read "Moby Dick". I was in school, and found the book utterly confusing and boring to boot. And then I read it again when I was starting college, and I was surprised to discover a whole world of imagery and so much of depth in the book. And once I had learnt about psychoanalytical criticism and stuff during my degree days, I could understand the book even better. :) It was same when I read "Old Man and the Sea" and "Jonathan Livingston Seagull" and a lot of poems. I have always found it difficult with poems. There is so much of subtlety and imagery that I would always have to read it a couple of times to understand it better. Like "Paradise Lost". I haven't read all the volumes and the little bit I have read, the first time around was all blank for me, then I read it and read it again and looked up the stuff I didn't know and I could understand it a little better. And I know if I read it again now I'd still find stuff that I failed to understand last time around. :) So for me, there are no odd books. There are books that I understand rightaway and there are books that take some effort before they reveal all their secrets to me. :) And I like the second category even better because, it makes me think a lot more and it makes me appreciate the book more and also appreciate the genius of the author. :)

"If you could get a sequel for any book, what would it be?"- this is today's question. :) Hmm.. this is a tough one. More so, because, I am not a huge fan of sequels. I personally believe a story gets more and more dragged out and boring with the sequels. Harry Potter was an exception. :) Although I'm not a die hard fan, I did love the way the story was built up and brought to its conclusion. I loved the way the characters were drawn out, their strengths and weaknesses becoming more and more defined, their characters becoming more and more solid as the series progressed. And although there are people who wish there were sequels to the series I think its fine the way it is. Its like Rowling decided to leave the rest of the story to our imagination. Her goal was to bring Harry's and Voldemort's story to its logical conclusion and that she did. And a fine job of it too. :) I have also read the Twilight series. And there again I don't wish for any more sequels. I would say I like books the way they are. I don't even like it much when books are made into movies. I always flesh out the characters in my mind every time I read a book. I give them character, I create the background, and the story plays out in my mind and when I see it on screen it seems like someone else's imagination. Anyways, I digress. The point is I like to imagine what would happen next if the author leaves the ending of a story open to interpretation and I almost always end up spinning my own little story around it and when a sequel comes out and it doesn't live up to my expectations, I feel cheated and let down. And so, I prefer the ambiguity of my imagination to the predictability of a sequel. :)

PS: My Langkawi diary will be back tomorrow. :) Please bear with me till then. I really wanted to continue today, but, I cannot bring myself to resist anything to do with books. :) I hope you guys understand. :)

Wordless Wednesdays -3

2011-10-12T20:29:00.003+08:00

Its yet another Wednesday and although, I'm in the middle of my travelogue narration, I thought I would take a break from it and carry on with the Wordless tradition. :) So here's yet another snap from my miniscule collection. I have snapped a lot of pics while on holiday and they will be posted in the coming weeks after some editing and processing and all.

This is one of my favourite favourite snaps. I have never been a huge fan of the color lavender but this flower has always been one of my favourites. It was my Grandmother's favourite to begin with and I still remember how happy she used to be when these flowers were in bloom. They are commonly called Hydrangeas and are mainly found in China, Japan, Korea, Indonesia and the Himalayas. Its quite tough to nurture this plant in the South of India but, my Grandmother would always manage. I have always found this flower very elegant and understated, and felt that was part of its charm. This snap was clicked on my last vacation to India at my mother's place. Equipment used, as usual, is S's D 90. :)

Lang-ka- wi 2

2011-10-11T20:38:00.003+08:00

Day 2 of our holiday dawned bright and sunny. The sunrise was magnificient. The sky slowly transforming from a deep blue to reddish orange to bright ornage to yellow. The sun rising majestically from the sea, in all its fiery glory, glad to be free of its watery prison. The water sparkling like a million diamonds were strewn across its surface, the birds chirping, the trees and the drooping flowers slowly coming to life. S saw all this, while I woke up only halfway through the whole spectacle and hence missed most of it. :P I had slept like the dead. I usually find it hard to sleep when am in a strange place but this time was different. I woke up bright eyed and ready to take on the day. And after a long time, I woke up with a smile on my face. We sat around on the balcony for the longest time sipping tea, not talking, just enjoying the beauty of the scene being played out in front of our eyes, in awe at nature in all her glory. It was one of the best mornings of my life and am not going to forget it in a long time to come. We did click a few pictures but, none of them could do any justice to nature's beautiful tapestry and so we abandones the idea, content to just sit and watch and grateful to be able to witness such an amazing sunrise. There's something about nature that turns us all into mute spectators.

Sunrise from the balcony.

By this time our stomachs were growling and off we went to the restaurant, Senari, for breakfast. There was everything from pancakes and waffles drenched in maple syrup and honey to our own idli-sambar, eggs made to order, sausaged, bacon, and a whole selection of tropical fruits to appease our hunger. After a very filling breakfast, we decided to walk around a bit more. Me and S were supposed to have a romantic dinner by the beach as part of our holiday package and we were told that the weather would dictate if we would be able to enjoy that privilage or not. Thankfully the weather forecast for the night was good- no rain and no wind either. So we were told we could have the dinner the very same night if we chose to and were asked to choose our menu and the time we wanted to dine. Me and S opted for a western menu and then we were off for a walk by the beach. It was humid and although not burning hot, it still was hot enough to drive us back to our room. On our way S had a brainwave about hitting the spa the next day so off we went and booked out slots for the day after.

It was almost afternoon by then, but since we had had a heavy breakfast, we decided to have a late lunch and hit the pool. Oh! the water was deliciously cool and it was absolute bliss to just lie in the water and look out at the beach. Yeah, the pool was just a stone's throw away from the beach. :) S had a ball too, since there was no dearth of drop dead gorgeous bikini clad women. ;) We had a late lunch and took a small nap and in the evening we set out again for the beach armed with the camera this time. After much posing and clicking, it was time for us to get dressed for our dinner. I was all excited 'cos I got to wear this pretty white dress that I had bought for my birthday and I had been saving it up for a special occasion. I paired it with my white Aldo sandals and a wooden chain and pendant S had picked up on one of his trips. And S was, as always, dressed in his laidback style. :)

The pool. :)

The beach :)

Dinner by the beach :)

Our dinner that night was magical to say the least. The cosy setting by the beach, candlelight, flowers, wine, the gently lapping waves, and some awesome food. And our personal butler was so discreet we hardly noticed him hovering about refilling our glasses and bringing our food. It was like being on a private island, we felt like the only two people there. We had some interference in the form of an extended family of crabs but after a while, they lost interest in us and went off on their own pursuits. We gorged on so much lovely food starting with am amazing greek salad with katafi prawns, then a tomato soup flavoured with lots of basil. Our main course was pan fried sea bass with seared scallops and seasonal vegetables and we rounded off with a dessert of chocolate ice cream paired with warm choclate cake. And we talked a lot, about everything under the sun. It was like we were on a first date or something. And now I understand the romance in this dining by the beach. It was so magical. I recommened everyone do it at least once in their lifetime. And as me and S sat there sipping tea, after a hearty meal, just enjoying the cool breeze and the song of the sea, I felt such a feeling of happiness and contentment that I never wanted to leave the beach. But like they say, all good things must come to an end and our butler very discreetly cleared his throat signalling that it was getting really late, and so we were up and off to our room. And that was the end of day two for us. :) Day 3 coming soon. :)

Lang-ka-wi 1

2011-10-10T22:28:00.009+08:00

And am back... :) Sorry for the break you guys.. And an even bigger apology for taking off like that, without telling you guys where I was off to. I really wanted to.. believe me. But I was so rushed, and there was hardly much time for me to be online, that I couldn't. And if you guys are wondering what the hell I'm talking about, here's the mystery solved. I was off on a short holiday to a tinly little slice of paradise called Rebak Island. It is a fifteen minute boat ride away from Langkawi and is owned by the Taj group. They have the most amazing resort there and me and S spent a few blissful days there. Another reason why I didn't tell anyone is that every time me and S tell people about our holiday plans, we end up jinxing it. Honest! It happens every single time. Either we fall sick or have a crappy time or end up doing too many things and coming back even more tired than when we left. So this time around, we chose not to tell too many people. But now that I'm back, I can tell you guys all about my wonderful time :).

Me and S had started planning for this holiday from around July I guess. We had been home in May and although we expected to have a quiet two weeks there, we ended up running from pillar to post with a whole horde of things and never got to sit around and just relax. So we decided we would go on a short albeit lazy holiday. We started looking at a lot of destinations and as usual S wanted to head to a hill station and I wanted to hit the beach. And as always I got my way.. ;) heh.. So we chose Langkawi since it was just a short distance away for us. Choosing the resort was left to us and after a lot of deliberation, I zeroed in on the Rebak Island resort. Attraction number one was the fact that the pictures on their website were too good to be true. ;) Attraction number two was it was a privately owned island. That's right! The Taj group owns all 390 acres of the island and they have maintained it beautifully. The entire resort is designed in such a way that it blends in with the surroundings. The rooms are all in chalets which are mostly made of wood and the view from all these rooms are absolutely stunning. :) We had opted for a seaview room and the view from our balcony was mesmerizing.. I have never seen so many shades of blue in a single setting ever before in my life.

The Resort!!

The Chalets :)

We left for Langkawi on Wednesday. It was a short flight- just about one and a half hours. We were received at the airport by someone from the resort and driven to port Langsuka from where it was a 15 minute boat ride to Rebak. The boat ride was pretty bumpy, the waters were choppy ,but, I enjoyed every minute of it. And my first sight of Rebak was breathtaking. Varied hues of green and blue, white sandy beaches and quaint little chalets nestled in the midst of all this greenery. An even more amazing sight greeted me the minute we pulled into the marina. Hundreds of yachts, in all sizes and shapes imaginable moored along the marina. It looked like something right out of a picture postcard. And it was a good ten minute walk from the marina to the hotel lobby. We didn't have to walk though. :) We had buggies. :) Taj has done an amazing job of making their resort as eco friendly as possible. They have maintained the island as it is- preserved as much of the greenery as possible. There are no motor vehicles on the island- you have to use cycles or buggies to get around. They have tried their best to minimize the use of plastic- even their laundry bags were made of cloth. :) And their buildings are all made from wood and blend in very well with the natural beauty of the island.

The marina.. all of these are private yachts :)

The view from our balcony.. :) Mesmerizing right?

We arrived amidst some light showers but the island was even more breathtaking when it rained. Our room was exactly what we expected it to be and some more. We had a light lunch and decided to explore the island a bit eventhough it was still raining. :) Oh! it was amazing to say the least. The fresh cool breeze, stormy looking skies, the foam and spray, the smell of the sea, crabs playing catch on the beach, the slight drizzle, the white sand, toucans and seagulls, the symphony of the waves- it was heavenly. But then the rain got pretty bad and we had to take refuge in our room. We hit the pool in the evening when the rain decided to give us some respite. And at night we hit one of the bars at the resort and there I made friends with a little blond haired blue eyed little angel. :) Her name was Heidi, she was around 2 years old and she was from Sweden. Her parents had come in for a drink and she was running around the whole place charming everybody. And she decided to make friends with me, which was a surprise because kids usually always warm up to S and tend to always ignore me. But Heidi stuck her nose up at S and refused to even tell him hi. And she kept repeating the same to me 'cos that was pretty much all the English she could manage. She shared all her toys with me too- a little green snake, a blue cow and a pink giraffe and even blew me a kiss when it was time for her to go. Unfortunately, I don't have a picture of her and she left the day after we reached and that was the end of our little friendship. :(

And that was the end of Day 1 at Rebak for us. Will be back with our Day 2 adventures tomorrow. :) Until then, enjoy the pics. :)

Booking Through Thursday -2

2011-09-29T20:37:00.002+08:00

Today's meme is a set of questions and consists of three very interesting ones which I shall endeavour to answer one by one. :)

1. What do you think of reading aloud/being read to? Does it bring back memories of your childhood? Your children’s childhood?

I have never read even my text books aloud let alone other books. I think I never read anything aloud except for the times I was preparing for some declamation or recitation competition or some such. I am not a huge fan of reading aloud or being read to. I like reading to people though, and some of my favourite memories are of reading to my sister when she was a kid, from our collection of books at home. She used to love it when I read to her. I would even try to sound like those narrators in Disney movies, to try and keep her engrossed, (my sis had a very short attention span) and I used to enjoy the whole thing immensely, maybe much more than my sister did. I think when I was a kid, till the time I mastered the alphabet and how to form words, my Mom and Dad used to read to me. And my Dad often tells me, it was that experience that triggered my love for books. And I agree. From the time I was old enough to read on my own, I would read my story books all by myself. I don't think I ever used to read aloud. I would read, and look at the pictures, and also try to build the whole story in my imagination. I would imagine myself as the hero/ heroine of the story, and wonder what I would do, and what I would have done differently from what was in the story. And I would ask for help only if I encountered a word I couldn't pronounce or didn't know the meaning of. Otherwise, I was perfectly content to curl up in a quiet corner with my book, and lose myself in my own little world for hours. So, although reading and reading to someone brings back memories, reading aloud never does. And I have only very faint memories of my parents reading to me so I can't say anything much about it here. And since I don't have children as yet, I can't say much about that either. But am sure I'll read to them till they are old enough to read on their own. If they develop as much of a love for books as I do, remains to be seen. :)

2. Does this affect the way you feel about audio books?

I think it does. Since I have never liked being read to, I don't like audio books. I have tried a couple and couldn't bring myself to get beyond the first few minutes. I hate the feeling of listening to some strange voice. I hate the feeling of not having an actual book in my hands. I like the real live version I guess. I like the feel of the weight of the book in my arms and sitting down to read it at my own pace.

3. Do you now have times when you read aloud or are read to?

No I still don't. Although if I find an interesting line in a book I'm reading, or a passage that I want someone else to also read, I might call them up or something and read it to them. :) I do that with S. I interrupt whatever he is doing to read something to him which I'm sure he'll like. He hates to read on his own, so he enjoys this. And that linewill most often lead to a very lively discussion on what we think about it and why it is relevant to the book. Sometimes we argue, sometimes we reminisce, sometimes we recollect some memories that would have started fading. It is an enjoyable experience. I do the samw with my Dad and my sister too. And we have the same kind of arguments and discussions on things. And although I have always had dreams about reading poetry aloud to my husband or have him read it out loud me, since S doesn't understand the first thing about poetry that dream will forever remain a dream. Not that am complaining.. :) Since he makes up for all that by buying me umpteen numbr of books. ;)

So there you have it. :) These are some more of my book habits. :)

Wordless Wednesdays -2

2011-09-28T19:45:00.002+08:00

Clicked at my Mom's place using S's D90. I had try really hard to catch this little guy on camera. He was so fast and I was practically crawling on my knees in the sand to get him on camera. The result is not that great but I still love it. Hope you guys love it too!! :)

The Wedding Disaster

2011-09-27T20:31:00.002+08:00

I have always heard people saying that a girl looks most beautiful on her wedding day. That's the one day in her life when she's the cynosure of all eyes. She is accorded even more importance than the groom. Everyone raves about the bride and how beautiful she is and what not. I have also heard girls saying that their wedding day was the most beautiful day of their lives. That they will never forget that one day in all their life and that they can recount with perfect clarity every second of their big day. Sadly, I don't belong to that category. My wedding day was neither the most wonderful, most unforgettable day of my life nor do I remember much about my wedding day. Everything got over pretty fast and I was worrying too much about if I was doing things right, to actually remember the stuff that was happening. And I breathed a huge sigh of relief when the day was over and I got out of the heavy sari and the chunky jewellery and the tons of flowers and multiple layers of makeup and got into regular clothes.

You see, our Mallu weddings are designed in such a way that the bride ends up looking like an overdressed peacock. Yeah, too much makeup, too much jewellery, too much of flowers- too much bling. There are girls who enjoy that, but I don't. I hate jewellery. Period. And I always have. Even the tiniest bit of jewellery on me makes me feel overdressed. The only kind of jewellery I like is junk jewellery and that too I can't wear more than one piece to accessorize an outfit- like drop earrings or a chunky bracelet or bangle or something like that. Even now I wear just my tiny diamond earrings which were a gift from my Mom, and my wedding band. And some days even these I forget. And my thali and stuff I wear very rarely. Hardly the behaviour of a proper Indian wife but who cares. :) My Mom and Dad stopped wearing their wedding bands a long time ago, when my Mom's ring broke and my Dad got tired of the chunky one he had. My Mom lost her thali once when my sister was small and although she was worried, my Dad was surprisingly cool about the whole thing. He said it wasn't a huge deal and told my Mom if she so badly needed one she could go to the jewellery store and get one for herself!! And that's exactly what my Mom did. Anyways I digress. The point is, for someone who hates jewellery so much, being decked up in gold from head to foot pretty much was worse than being strung up by my thumbs. Although I escaped looking like the advertisement for a jewellery store by a whisker, (all thanks to my Mom who picked up all tiny pieces which were literally worth their weight in gold), I still looked pretty horrendous. But to the elders in our families and many people who came for the wedding, I could have used a couple more chains and bangles and stuff.

I love sari's (thats what we are required to wear for weddings). I wear them rarely, and I do a pretty good job of draping them myself. But I love only cotton sari's and Fabindia style cotton- silk blends and such simple stuff, not the heavy kancheevarams that we are forced to wear for weddings. And my wedding sari weighed a ton. I wanted to buy something simpler, that I could possibly wear again for some function, but my family insisted on something blingy, and blingy the sari was. Covered with intricate gold threadwork and stones, it could be spotted a mile away. And when I saw the price tag, I almost fainted. All this, for an outfit I would wear for just like 4 hours and never again in my life? But then again, like everything else about my wedding, I had no say in this. So I obliged my grandparents and the elders and nodded my assent. I still don't remember how I managed to carry the weight of that sari around on my wedding day. It was so hard to drape, my makeup woman had a fit. It took 4 people to tame the sari and pin it in place. I lost count of the number of safety pins that were required to pin it in place and all I could hope for was all that "safety" would be enough to hold it intact for the entire day. And the anklets I was forced to wear on the big day kept getting caught in all the threadwork and I was worried about tripping and falling. And I'm someone who manages to fall while walking in the sturdiest pair of shoes on a perfectly level surface. All in all, an absolutely delicious recipe for disaster.

Another important ingredient of our weddings are flowers. Jasmine, to be precise. Every bride is required to adorn her hair with as much jasmine as possible on her big day. Its like noone should see her real hair. I had a couple of tiny problems. Number one was I had real short hair. Like my hair wouldn't even stay up in a ponytail. Number two was that the smell of jasmine gave me a migraine. For my engagement, I had managed to not wear jasmine and my Mom got a lot of flak for that- for not making me wear it. So, it was decreed that I had to wear flowers in my hair no matter what, and to that effect, the makeup woman was summoned and asked to tag on as much false hair as possible onto my own original scant hair and adorn said mix of original and false hair with as much jasmine as possible. To give her some credit, she did a splendid job of it. I still can't for the life of me figure out how she managed to attach that huge bit of false hair and that amount of flowers on my head. My head hurt so bad and I had so many hairpins in my hair, I would have beat a hill station. And I started my wedding day, popping painkillers after breakfast to keep my migraine at bay.

End result being, I could hardly recognize myself when I saw my reflection in the mirror. I looked like I was all set to participate in some fancy dress competition and was going as the Indian version of the Corpse Bride or something like that. But I had no choice but to grin and bear it, all for the sake of tradition and family. I was so worried about not tripping over my sari, and my false hair falling off midway through the ceremony. and the weight of the sari and the jewellery and the flower garlands, and the running makeup and not looking like a penguin that I had no time to enjoy my own wedding. Plus, there were a hundred people giving me a thousand different instructions, that I was confused as to whom to listen to. I still remember S's face when he saw me in my bridal finery. He was shocked I'm sure, but poor dear, he covered it up pretty quickly and mouthed, "You look beautiful". I'm sure if he had stammered and mumbled something unintelligible, I would have called off the wedding then and there (No, I wouldn't. I'd have married him anyways).But it was only in the evening when I had traded all my wedding finery for a simple cotton silk sari and drop earrings and my grandmothers chain that he looked at me and said, "Now you look more like yourself".

And to think my dream wedding was to head to the register office and get my marriage registered, and have a small reception for family and friends. And all I wanted to wear, was a simple sari and the diamond set my Dad had gotten me and nothing more. No bling, no flowers, no false hair, no migraine- nada. Instead, I ended up having the typical big fat Mallu wedding and I didn't enjoy a single bit of it except for the fact that I got married to S. And I cringe everytime I see myself in my wedding attire. In a way, I'm glad I did it for my grandparents 'cos I lost them both in the two years I have been married and my wedding was kind of the last thing on their lists. But I will always regret the fact that I could not do anything my way, and everytime I think of my wedding day I will have a tiny cold shiver run up my spine. For me, everyday of being married to S has been special and I have enjoyed them all far more than I enjoyed my wedding day and I remember the so many other days that we have been together better than the supposedly "biggest" day of our lives.

Do you have any wedding horror stories like mine to share? If so, please do so that I feel better that I'm not the only one who hated her special day. :P

Trinngg Trinnggg...

2011-09-26T21:43:00.005+08:00

You know how people these days go into raptures about technology and how easy it has become to communicate. You can connect to anyone, anywhere in the world in seconds, even if you happen to be stuck smack in the middle of the Brazilian rainforest. Ok, I might be exaggerating a bit there, but you get my point right? Now, I'm all for technology making life easier for us and all, the lazy bum that I am, but if there's one thing I hate about being "mobile" its the pressure to be available at the world's beck and call at all times. And that makes me feel all nostalgic and wanting to go back to the era of the landline telephones. Remember those? The ones that had wires running in and out of it and that forced you to stay at one place and hold a conversation? Remember the candlestick phones and the rotary dial phones? The ones that required you to dial the number you wanted to call by putting your finger into a very uncomfortable hole on a finger plate and well dial? They might sound antediluvian now, but I miss them. I miss the simplicity of that era when you were available to talk only when you were actually at home or at work.

These days since we are always "connected", it has become unthinkable to not be available at all times. I know how frustrating it is for me to go out shopping with S and have a million people call him in between, mostly concerning work, and having to resort to hand signals to get his opinion on something I am planning to buy. And this is on weekends. I know how annoying it is when we are on holiday and that mood is destroyed in seconds when someone calls up from work needing to sort something out urgently. The relaxed look on you face instantly transforms into worry lines, you lose the happiness you were feeling till then, and until the call is concluded, you are left wondering if its an issue that will require us to cut our holiday short or take some such drastic measure. And if you have the nerve to even tell people that you are going to be unavailable for a few days and it will be futile to try and contact you by phone or via the internet, they look at you wondering if you are dropping off the face of the earth, and ask you if you are ok, like they are worried about your mental stability. After all is there any place on the globe that does not have mobile phone coverage? And if you even have the courage to venture a response to the effect that its your choice not to be available,you are sure to receive looks of horror. Its sacrilege to even think of something like that. So you have no choice but to leave a phone number, a backup number in case you are not reachable on your first one, your spouse's number, the number of the hotel you are staying at and what not. Is it any wonder people feel overworked, even while on a holiday?

I remember the times when all we had at home was a landline- we didn't have caller id's and stuff and even having an extension for your number was considered cool. I remember how we could all go out somewhere as a family and enjoy some family time without all our phones buzzing incessantly. I remember us trying to guess who it would be when the phone rang. I remember the yelling and screaming on Friday evenings when the phone rang, because we all knew it was our uncle calling from the UAE. I remember waiting by the side of the phone on Sunday, 'cos that was when Dad would call from Bombay. I remember the time when you had to make every conversation as brief as possible 'cos longer calls meant more money. Only the most important news merited a phone call, the mundane would have to make do with a letter. This was when I was in school.

I remember when my Dad got his mobile. It was practically impossible to drive somewhere without pulling over a few times because he had to attend calls from work. After Mom got hers, it was like they both were on the phone pretty much all the time. I remember the time when all of us in the family got mobile phones. We would all be practically on our phones talking or sms-ing, even at a restaurant or some family gathering. So we made a rule- no mobile phones while we are out at restaurants or having some family time. But Dad would often have to break the rules because he would always have some fires to put out at office. Its pretty much the same these days with S. I can't often have a decent conversation with him without being interrupted by the trinng of his phone. Sometimes its me who gets a call. And it irritates me to no end. So much so, that these days when I go out with S, I sometimes choose not to take my mobile with me. This being connected all the time was a boon and rather fun when I was in college. The free sms's that many mobile operators provided and the cheap calls were like manna for us. And that was a time when you could talk for hours on end about anything under the sun and not get bored. I can still do that with close friends. In fact, I still do. But, we respect each other's privacy too. If one of us is off on a holiday, we don't call them up unless it is to covey something of earth shattering importance. But these million other calls from work and such, sometimes about the most inconsequential of things is what puts me off. And don't even get me started on the hundreds of messages that flood your inbox everyday, which you are required to read and reply using your mobile phone.

Forgive me if I have gone off on a tangent in some places. The point I wanted to make was this- life was so much more smoother and simpler and happier when we had phones we possibly couldn't carry around. The explosion in technology has made work smoother, business transactions faster, the conveying of news alomost immediate. But has it made our lives happier? I doubt it...

Happy Birthday C!!!

2011-09-23T07:07:00.005+08:00

Dear darling C,

Happy Birthday. You are turning two today. Wow! how fast time has flown. I remember seeing your very first pictures- a tiny little nugget you were, cradled in your mom's arms. And look at you now!! You are a big girl. I remember how your Mom and me and her gang of friends were all anticipating your arrival. I remember screaming at your uncle S when you landed and your mom messaged me in sometime. I remember feeling so happy and proud. I remember wanting to get on a plane and come and see you. I remember thinking when I would ever get to see you. And, I remember thinking what I could gift you. You see, your uncle SH was coming down in sometime, and I wanted to send you something. I can't believe its been two years since that happened. In those two years, you have grown and blossomed into a cute, lively, smart, bubbly little girl. You are not one of those kids who throw tantrums for everything and expect everyone to wait hand and foot on you. Nosiree. You are too ladylike and composed for that. You purse your little lips, and screw up your eyes in concentration, and get things done all on your own. And, your very determined and persistent nature makes people want to do things for you.

I haven't been lucky enough to spend too much time with you, but the one day i did, was absolute bliss. You are a shy little one and you get that from your Dad, I know. Its hard to get to him to open up and talk. He's a little reclusive and brooding and you are just like him. We all know you are his miniature- right from your smile to your curls to the way your eyes scrunch up when you concentrate on something (this last one your Mama tells me), but howmuch ever you look like your Dad, I know that you have your Mama's spirit. You don't cry over anything. And even when you do, you get over it in minutes and move on. You are lively and happy about even tiny things like a green kangaroo that jumps. ;) Just like your Mama, it takes only very small things to please you. You have your Mama's stubborness and her sense of style. You have her grace and her wild laughter that rings with pure joy and abandonment, and I hope, as you grow up, you become more like your Mom and Dad. They are a couple of wonderful people.

Learn from your Dad his patience and from Mom her persistence. Learn from your Dad when to be quiet, and from your Mom how to squeeze the maximum out of every minute of your life. Learn from your Dad his quiet strength and from your Mom the ability to see the good in everything. Learn from your Dad how to use words wisely and from your Mom when to let go and live the moment.

I know you will have many more birthdays to come. And maybe I won't be around to give you more advice (am sure you'll be giving me some soon). And after a while, you'll not need it anymore. But there are certain things you need to remember- always. C darling, you are surrounded by a loving family. You are the apple of their eye, and their world begins and ends with you. Your Mom and Dad are doing everything they can to make your life more beautiful than it already is. You have a Grandma and a great Grandma who panic if you do as much as sneeze. They love you that much. You have too many people around you who'd do anything to put a smile on your face. I know how much your Mama misses you, and I know what all she goes through to come and see you every weekend she possibly can. Treasure them C. They'll be the one constant thing in your life. Your Mama and your Grandma and everyone else have already taught you oh so much. I see it in the way you are- calm, quiet, happy, content, always ready to get out and get things done, ready to explore hitherto unexplored paths and shores, ready to get out and live your life the best way you can.

You might be wondering how Pooh aunty can figure out so much. After all you are only two. Oh my darling C, your Pooh aunty is pretty perceptive. Plus she knows your Mama really well. And your Dada pretty well too. So, she can guess how you are going to turn out. I can't wait to see you ten years, twenty years down the lane- a smart, sensible, confident, independent woman, living your own life, on your own terms and making us all very very proud. And before Pooh aunty turns into a very unattractive, slobbering mass of tears, you run along. And have some fun. Its your birthday after all. And this year, this is Pooh aunty's gift to you. And I hope, sometime, when you are older, you'll come by and read this and laugh. And try not to think of Pooh aunty as a loony old crone. Happy Birthday darling. Love you so much. Mwaahh... :)

Lots of love,

Pooh Aunty

Booking Through Thursday- 1

2011-09-22T22:03:00.002+08:00

Now anyone, who has been reading this space for even a little while, will know that books are my first love. And although I do post bokk reviews and such on this blog, I sometimes feel like I don't talk much about them here. I don't intend to bore you all with huge dissertations on literary style and such, but I will write on some little things about books that I love and that interest me. I have been planning on doing this for a while now but, I was lost as to how to go about it. And last week I stumbled upon this site. Its dedicated totally to books and every Thursday they put up a question that is related to books or book- habits and prompt you to answer them. And being a bibliophile, its hard to resist such a temptation. So from today, every Thursday will be all about books here. Here goes my very first BTT post. Today's question is:

Do you carry books with you when you're out and about in the world? And, do you ever try to hide the covers?

I always have a book on me. Even when I'm just going out shopping on the weekend with S or going to work, I'll have a book in my handbag. Its one of the reasons I love big bags. It holds all my other junk along with my book or in some cases, "books". Yes yes, I'm even guilty of carrying around more than one book. When I'm out and about, I read whenever I can find the time. It never used to be the case when I was studying. But since I have gotten married, and started working, I hardly find the time to sit down and savour a book. So, I read in snatches. I read when I'm waiting for S or a friend. I read when I'm at coffee shops. I read when I'm travelling on the bus or the train. Reading on the bus usually makes me feel nauseous but the traffic on the route to my office is so bad and the bus moves so slow, that it's almost like sitting on a chair at home and reading. So having a book on me at all times is crucial. I almost feel handicapped if I don't find one in my bag. S always scolds me saying I carry around these book unnecessarily since I'm definitely not going to spend too much time reading them in the course of the day, but I feel complete only when there's the comforting weight of a book in my handbag.

And no, I never hide book covers. :) I don't think I need to hide what I'm reading from the world. It does bother me when people try and look into the pages of my book, or try and see what's on the cover, but I know its genuine curiosity and in some cases I have been guilty of it too. :P Sometimes people even strike up a conversation if the book interests them or if they have already read it. I have had these experiences when random strangers have come up to me at coffee shops and told me they have read the book I'm reading and that its a great read and all. I like those too. To see that there are like minded people around who enjoy the same genre of books and same tastes I do, is a great feeling. So no, I never hide.. ;)

PS: Your feedback about this section will be much appreciated.

Wordless Wednesdays- 1

2011-09-21T22:34:00.003+08:00

I have been promising to post pictures on this blog for a while now, but never got around to actually doing it. I don't claim to be an expert photographer or anything. And neither am I well versed in lighting and angles and aperture and stuff, but I do know when something looks appealing to the shutterbug in me and thats what I expect to bring out here. So, without further ado, here's presenting to you, "Wordless Wednesdays". Its a phenomenon that has been doing the rounds in the blogworld for a while now, and this is my feeble attempt at jumping on the bandwagon. I hope you guys like it!!

This was clicked with S's trusty D90. I was wandering around with the camera one morning at my Mom's place when I found this pretty little ladybug negotiating its way through the wall. I took a few shots but only this one turned out good. So here it is!!

Off My Bookshelf -3

2011-09-20T19:53:00.001+08:00

Title: The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society

Publisher: Bloomsbury

Author: Mary Ann Shaffer & Annie Barrows

"The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society" is a book by Mary Ann Schaffer and her niece Annie Barrows published in 2008 and has been on bestseller and must- read lists ever since. It is a deeply moving book that tells the story of a handful of people who all share a passion for books. I saw the book as I was browsing. It was the cover that caught my eye first. There's something that draws you in and makes you pick the book up- maybe it is the woman or the stamps and the postmark or the intriguing title. I don't know. As soon as I read the blurb, I was hooked. Here's my take on this beautiful book.

The year is 1946, and London is slowly emerging from the horrors of the Second World War. Author Juliet Ashton who has been extremely successful with her columns written under the pseudonym of Izzy Bickerstaff and has also published a collection of her columns as a book is trying hard to find a subject for her new book. Going through a period of absolutely no inspiration, she is surprised to receive a letter one day from a man named Dawsey Adams from the island of Guernsey who has chanced upon her name written inside a book by Charles Lamb. Juliet is intrigued by the mand and she enquires further about who he is and what he does. And thus starts a lovely correspondence between Dawsey and Juliet and many of Dawsey's friends at Guernsey. Juliet is increasingly drawn to the picture of Guernsey that Dawsey paints, to this place so far away from London, to the enigmatic Elizabeth whose quick thinking when caught after curfew hours by the German troops is what led to the creation of the society in the first place, to the eccentric Isola and her goat Ariel, to Eben and his grandson Eli, to the snooty Adelaide Allison whom everyone hates, and to Elizabeth;s daughter kit. And to the one thing they all have in common- a deep love for books.

As Juliet learns more about this motley bunch of characters, their island, their homes and their trials and tribulations under German occupation, the urge to meet these characters in the flesh grows stronger and she sets sail to Guernsey. And her experiences there change her life forever. The book boasts a cast of deeply human characters- flawed in their own ways but endearing nonetheless. Each character has a story to tell and each of their stories make an indelibe impact on the reader. As you flip the pages, you feel like you are in Guernsey, living and breathing the same air and going through this myriad of experiences that the characters go through. There is a sense of warmth and peace that pervades the whole book. Not once do you feel that there is something even remotely depressing about it. Even while the characters are recounting the horrors of the war, there is never a sense of darkness or depsair. They talk about their suffering objectively while also highlighting the fact that the enemy also suffered as much as they did, although in a different way.

I loved the layout of the book- which is in the form of a series of letters between Juliet and Dawsey and the other residents of Guernsey, her editor and friend Sidney and her best friend Susan. You get to know everyone's story from a first person point of view and that helps you to know that character better. You also have insight into their little faults and eccentricities and their thoughts on a variety of topics. It is also a travel back in time to the era of what we now call "snail mail", a time when one had to wait for news, a time when people found joy in sending and receiving letters. Every character in the book is very well drawn out and everyone has their specific role to play in taking the book to its logical conclusion. Even after you finish reading the book, the characters are sure to stay with you for a while.

There are some parts of the book that will leave you with a lump in your throat but there will be something in the very same page that will surely put a smile on your face. And then there are some of the lines from the book are absolutely inspired, like this- "I wonder how the book got to Guernsey? Perhaps there is some sort of secret homing instinct in books that brings them to their perfect readers.” or this, "When I got up this morning, the sea was full of sun pennies- and now it seems to be covered in lemon scrim. Writers ought to live far inland or next to the city dump if they are ever to get any work done."

It is a very short book and being in the form of letters, it's very easy to read through. The language employed is simple yet elegant and the plot is very easy to read and assimilate. All in all an amazing read. :) I give it five stars. Go pick up your copy now!!

Randomly Yours...

2011-09-19T21:46:00.001+08:00

Please excuse the short absence from this space. The weekend interfered in an otherwise mundane schedule, and between ticking things off my mile long "to-do" list and trying to finish a book, time just flew by and blogging never happened. The weekend was jam packed as is the usual case. But this weekend me and S were pretty adventurous and decided to do some spring cleaning, which meant sorting through old clothes and magazines and boxes of junk and what not. I was amazed at the amount of stuff we had in our apartment, and all this has been accumulated in just over two years of marriage. Doesn't help that we both unknowingly end up hoarding a lot of stuff- either because we think its practical to hold on to something or because we have some kind of emotional attachment to it.

So Saturday was spend cleaning out all the junk we had accumulated and cleaning and rearranging the guest bedroom- which is where we choose to store all our stuff. It also has to do with the fact that Mom might be making a visit this side sometime soon, and since she could put Monica Gellar to shame in the cleanliness and organization department, I had to clear things out. I'm still sure she'll step into my home and take one look around and point out a hundred different things that are wrong with the way I have arranged things but still, I would have some peace of mind thinking I tried. On Saturday I also managed to finish a book I have been reading for some time now and have been dying to finish- "The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society". I had heard and read amazing reviews of the book and I must say the book didn't disappoint even the tiniest bit. I will be reviewing the book myself soon although I wonder what I can say that hasn't already been said about this amazing book. Its always a bittersweet feeling for me when I finish a book. There's a sense of accomplishment at having finished reading it and getting to the end of things. But there is also a sense of loss when I think this is the end of these characters and their lives. I won't be able to know anything more about them ever again. But I always have a smile on my face at the end of this exercise although I bug S for a bit moaning about the book getting over. ;)

I also picked up another book and started reading. But its going really slow and I have already started wondering when I'll manage to finish it. And considering my crazy schedule these days I am sure its not going to be anything soon. :( It was a rainy couple of days, this past weekend, so me and S had to cancel a lot of our plans. I had plans to head to Ikea and pick up some stuff for the home, but the rain ruined my plans. My inherent laziness was a factor too. :D But It was fun to hang out at home and read.

We finished off the weekend with a movie- "Johnny English Reborn". Now I have never been a huge fan of the Mr. Bean movies of Mr. Atkinson, but this movie is awesome. The movie has managed to poke fun at all the super spy cliches without being too vulgar or over the top. I loved some one liners from the movie and also the fact that there was practically no swear words used in the movie at all!! It was just what you needed to forget that there was a week of the usual drudgery awaiting you the next day. :)

And today as always am back to feeling blue. :( And the weather is not helping either. It was raining cats and dogs all day and all I wanted to do was curl up and read a book. Instead I was stuck at work, shivering 'cos it was too cold and craving a cup of Mom's tea. :( sniffle sniffle...

A letter, a reply and my take on it..

2011-09-15T20:07:00.001+08:00

The other day, as I was checking Facebook, I saw one of my friends had posted this link. Curiosity aroused, I checked it out. And I was aghast at what this girl had written.Unless it is a letter to one particular Delhi boy she has some issues with, the post is pretty insulting. And I wanted to blog about it yesterday. But a hectic day at work ruined any plans to write. And today as I was bloghopping, I saw that another blogger had posted this as a response to the girl's post. This is a letter to both of them.

Dear girl,

Now I don't know if your aim was to attract some readers to your blog or get your five minutes in the limelight or if you have truly experienced what you have written about, I am sorry if you have. My issue is with the generalizations you have made and the overall picture you have painted of a typical Delhi boy. It might be true of quite a large percentage of people, but I don't think all of them are primitive cavemen who spend their days thumping their chests going "ooga ooga" and beating up women to prove their superiority. Before I go any further, I'm from one of the southernmost states of India and have lived there for a major part of my life and guys there are not very different. And I don't agree with the South of India being a woman friendly society as you have made out in your post. Have you been living under a rock? Or maybe you're delusional and live in some kind of parallel universe?

I know quite a few guys from the North of India, and a few from Delhi too. While am sorry to say many of them fit the mould that you have written about, there are also guys who are sane, sensible, well- read, properly articulated and respect women. You've mentioned in your article that cities like Bangalore and Bombay are "female conducive". No city in India is "female conducive" darling. Mark my words. I have been to Bombay, Bangalore, Chennai and lived for a major part of my life in the Southern state of Kerala. I have faced the same issues everywhere- groping, leering, lewd comments and what not. I am equally afraid to step out after a certain point at night in all these places. No place is safe, unless you happen to have a cavalcade of black cats accompanying you on all your outings.

You have referred to Delhi guys as chauvinistic oafs with intelligence level of autistic 3 year olds on crack. First of all its offensive to kids who suffer from autism and a cheap dig which I cannot condone. And these chauvinistic oafs are not a characteristic restricted to just Delhi. You find quite a number of them "south of the Vindhyas" too. In fact you find them even among the most educated elite of society. I can quote a number of examples. And again I'm not attempting a generalization. I also know a huge number of south indian guys who are educated, well- read, who believe that women are as capable as men and are not "chauvinistic oafs". You think society in the South has progressed so much that there is no discrimination against women? Seriously? Maybe in your family. Maybe in my family. Maybe in a number or families. But, for the majority of women in the South, reality is far far different. There is discrimination in every walk of life. Right from even before a girl child gets to be born, people start discriminating. So don't tell me there is no discrimination. And matriarchal society and all that bull? Its just that, bull. Like I said, except for a few progressive families, these things don't exist elsewhere in the south my dear.

Oh and you think only Delhi boys have issues with English? Honey, there are men who speak well and there are the species who want to "do fraandship" with you and they are ubiquitous, irrespective of it being north or south. And as far as making fun of their accents go, there's nothing like a neutral accent. Everyone has an accent. If you go to the north of India, they'll say you have a South Indian accent, if they come to South India, you make fun of their accent and if you go abroad, and unless you try your damnedest to imitate the British or American accent, they'll say you've got an Indian accent. You get my point?

And what is it with making fun of the North Indian culture and music and their tastes and what not? Honey, we are all part of the huge country called India. We have long been applauded for being a melting pot of cultures. We have a menagerie of religions, languages, customs, cuisines, traditions, musical styles, architecture and what not. That's what makes the tapestry of our nation so colorful and beautiful. Thats what makes us unique. Heard of "unity in diversity"? Anyways I don't want to go on an on about every single point you have written. I find it in poor taste, for one, and initially thought it didn't merit a reply. But I couldn't resist.

On another note, me and my friends also happen to know quite a number of guys that belong to the category to whom you have addressed your letter. A few of my friends who worked in Delhi have stories to tell of how irritating this particular species can be. And I have to say, I have had the misfortune of knowing a number of them too. So if your rant is addressed to a specific guy belonging to that category, or if this has been your personal experience, then the guys whom you have addressed this to deserve everything you have said. But do spare the few innocents.

Love,

Pooh

Dear Guy,

Kudos to you for the prompt reply to the girl. And also thanks for pointing out the fact about India being consolidated and united and all that. And also for the fact about it being proper only to blame mindsets and not just whole geographical areas. You have to understand that, there do exist guys who belong to the category the girl has spoken about. Like my friend says, guys who ask, "Oh you know Hindi?", when we "Madrasis" try to speak in "our national language". There are the ones who make fun of our appearance and food habits and customs and what not, the ones who don't understand that everyone from the south are not Madrasis. Believe me, I have had the misfortune of knowing a few of them. And so have my friends. I'm glad you don't belong to that category but trust me when I say they exist. Like you, I'm also against all generalizations and racism of any kind. Like you, I also believe we are all little pieces of the puzzle that make our glorious nation.

So instead of poking fun at each other and writing scathing letters, lets be happy and proud to be Indians. Our nation faces enough problems even without us bickering like this.

Love,

Pooh

And that's that. And before anyone makes a rude remark on this post, all opinions expressed here are mine and mine alone. You are entitled to your own opinions and ideals. I will not shoot them down or question them. So if you don't agree with whatever you read here, click on the red button with the "x" on it and leave quietly. Thanks!!

Growing into You...

2011-09-13T21:30:00.002+08:00

As I was reading through random stuff today, I came across a line that went something like this- "it takes courage to grow up and become who you really are." And the words resonated with something deep inside of me. The truth in that one simple sentence set me thinking. In a world like today where collectivism is the norm, its hard for the individual to grow into his own element. I have always been fascinated with the concept of the individual as opposed to the collective. I idolize Ayn Rand and her great debate of the individual vs. the collective that is reflected in almost all her works. My ideal hero has always been Howard Roark- the fiery, creative architect who refused to accpet the norm and went on to do everything according to his creative vision. "The Fountainhead", the book that Rand painstakingly wrote over a period of seven years has always been, for me, a testament to the power of the individual. It has always represented what being true to oneself means.

And as I read this sentence in the morning, it stuck in my head and kept playing through my mind- over and over again, like it was on loop, like my subconscious was giving me a message. From the time we are born, we are taught what is right and what is wrong, rather, what is considered acceptable by society and what is not.We are taught what to say and what not to say, how to eat, how to walk, how to behave in "society". We are taught what to learn and what not to. We are taught that we are "social animals" and have to conform in order to survive. And slowly, but surely we grow up to become something that society deems right. True we need to have some rules and regulations and a set of acceptable traits in society but a society where everything is decreed by the collective should never be the norm. A ruthless slaughter of the individual spirit should never be the norm. And that is what happens all the time- anywhere you look.

There is always the pressure to conform. Otherwise you stand the risk of being an object of ridicule, an anomaly, a blemish on something that is otherwise perfect. Our society has become one that encourages "herd mentality" and anything other than that is considered weird or silly. If you don't follow an organized religion, you are weird. When everyone chooses to learn engineering and you chose humanities, you are an anomaly. If you are a guy and you love classical dance, you are an anomaly- irrespective of the amount of talent you have. You become the butt of jokes. You are treated with mockery and ridicule. The whole world seems to be hell bent on reinforcing the fact that you are different and hence worthless.

And what choice does that leave you with? To conform. That's the only way out. To spare oneself of the horrors of being different, to get some respite from the incessant teasing and ribbing and criticism, one conforms. This is especially true when you are kids. If you have an opinion on something and everyone else thinks differently, you try a few times to get your ideas across. If everyone else thinks its weird, your opinion is quietly shot down. And unless you have the superhuman courage to stand up and defend your stand, you have no choice but to go with what the herd thinks is right. It matters not what you think. It only matters that the herd decrees is right. And this goes on as you move forward in life. The pressure to conform at the workplace, the pressure to conform to the ideals of society, the pressure to conform to other's expectations of you, the pressure to conform to be accepted in your friends circle. The list is endless.

In the midst of all this, where will one find the courage to be true to oneself? I feel you end up losing your sense of self at the end of all this. I have faced instances of being criticised because I chose to talk differently, because I dressed differently, because I believe in things the others didnt. I was forced to conform. Sometimes I did, most often I didn't. I have made and lost friends because of this refusal to conform. I have some who agree with me and some who even if they don't agree with me, accept me as I am, and am thankful for them. I have some who have tried to insist they are right and I am wrong, and I have ended up losing them. I do not blame then. To each, his own. Its a continuous battle- this quest to be oneself. Some days you win, some days you accept defeat. I try to win most often. But in a world where you have to be like everyone else or you are doomed, I sometimes lack the will to be myself. It doesn't help that the others don't understand and even if they do, they don't want to agree with me and risk being labelled different themselves. Its a tough battle to grow up to become who you really are, 'cos there are millions of people out there who will not let you. But, there is no greater joy than getting to the end of your journey and being able to say with pride, that you have truly become who you were intended to be.

Flame..

2011-09-12T21:27:00.001+08:00

My first attempt at 55 fiction. I have been meaning to do something in this direction for a while now, but haven't had the inspiration. Today, suddenly, the Muse decided to pay me a little visit and here is the result. Hope you guys like it. Feedback will be much appreciated. :)

She watched the orange flame dancing in the darkness- twisting, turning, pirouetting.

(Image Courtesy: Google Images)

She touched the flame and wodered if it was enough to soothe the inferno raging inside her.

She thought for a moment and tipped the candle over.

She closed her eyes, smiling, as the orange spread around her.

Two flames dancing in harmony..

What? Another blast?? Meh...

2011-09-07T19:40:00.001+08:00

Another day, another blast. This time the target was the capital city and not Mumbai as is the case usually. As always there is frantic media coverage. Politicians have started issuing statements asking people to stay calm and there are promises that the culprits will be bought to justice swiftly. In a few days there will be statements pertaining to the strength of the Indian people's spirit and how resilient we are. There will be speeches in the memory of those killed. There will be plans to maybe build a memorial. There will be lots of blame placed on various terrorist outifts. The intelligence department will be blamed. The home minister will be blamed. And all these people will in turn blame some others. There will be candlelight marches and demands for justice for the families of the deceased. There will interviews with the victims families and the survivors and eyewitness accounts. There will be interviews with intellectuals, experts and a thousand opinions on why we are being targeted. There will be re-re-re telecasts of footage from the blast on all news channels- each claiming to have exclusive footage/ interviews etc. There will be speculation on how the public will deal with it. There will be interviews with the youth and a short bit about their anger at the incident. There will be talks of a better security system being implements. There will be promises of people's lives being made safer. There will be criticism by opposition parties and questions will be raised about the efficiency of the ruling party. There will be compensation packages declared for those killed and injured which will invariably be caught up in a mass of official red tape. There will be Facebook pages made, people like you and me blogging about it. There will be plans for a protest. There will be all this hue and cry.

But within a month or a few months, all this will be forgotten. All these promises will be forgotten. All the blame games will have been discarded in favour of some new scandal. All these promises will remain just that- a bunch of words strung together for PR value. After all, promises are meant to be broken. People will go on with their lives and newspapers and channels will again start their oft repeated theories about how the Indian spirit has yet again triumphed over evil and how resilient the nation is and that noone can destroy the unity of our great nation. And every year from now on, there will be millions of lines of news dedicated to the incident. There will be more candlelight marches to celebrate the anniversary of the Delhi blasts. That will pretty much be the only time that everyone will remember the incident. That will be the only time the politicians will remember them too. There will be the customary "lets take a minute and rememebr the ones who lost their lives" speech. But the only ones who will remember them will be the families who lost them. For the nation, they are just a few in its over a billion strong population. For those families they were the most important people in their lives, pretty much. The country will move on, but those families will always mourn the loss. And talking about resilience, its not resilience, mind you. Its mute acceptance. Its acceptance of the fact that nothing will change- these blasts will keep happening, this entire circus will be repeated over and over again, these promises will be made and nothing will be done, and there will never be any guarantee that you will return home safely in the evening. People aren't resilient. They can't afford to be scared and stay at home, or hire Z++ security. They have jobs to go to, schools and colleges to attend, a livelihood to make, mouths to feed. They can't stay at home or even afford to go out and protest- whats the point? There will be more promises to appease them and then nothing. Another blast will come- sooner or later. More lives will be lost. The same circus will be put up for all to see over and over again. Its not resilience, its resignation. Its resignation to their fate that they are mere pawns in the political games and noone cares about their safety or security. Its all about votes and the crores that can be scammed and stashed away in bank accounts far far away. Human life? Pshaww.. They will survive.. After all we do have a huge population. Who cares if a handful die...

People die... Promises will be made.. And the performance, the circus will go on.. Year after year... Blast after blast...

Top Chef? ;)

2011-09-06T20:11:00.001+08:00

As is evident from quite a few posts on this blog, I'm a foodie. Yes yes I love food. I love everything to do with it- cookbooks, cookery shows, experimenting with food, coming up with my own recipes- the whole gamut of food related stuff. When I was young, I used to think that I would always hate cooking and never be even a decent enough cook. My contributions in the kitchen when I was in school and college were restricted to just helping Amma out with cutting the veggies and in rare cases, whipping up a salad, or a cup of tea for a guest who dropped in when Amma was not home. I could also make the usual Maggi and sandwiches and stuff but that was it. I wouldn't step into the kitchen unless absolutely necessary and back then when Amma insisted on watching some cookery show I would fight with her for the remote to change channels.

But then like every self respecting bride-to-be, I was also forced to learn cooking. And me being the sly one, just watched Amma cooking and didn't even bother to jot down the recipes. And since I was marrying a guy I had known for a huge part of my life and he knew cooking, I wasn't all that worried. I had also warned him in advance of my ineptitude in the culinary environment. My adventures in the kitchen began only after I got married and arrived here in Singapore. I still remember the first meal I made. We had shifted into our very first apartment here and I had just finished setting up the whole place. S said we could have dinner out or order in, but I decided I would make a meal on our first day at our new place. So I quickly whipped up some rice and rasam, fixed a salad, got out a carton of yoghurt and some pickles and we dug into our very first meal in our very first home. Now S is not a fussy eater and he was ooh-ing and aah-ing over my culinary skills after his first bite. But everyone knows that rasam is like one of the simplest dishes to cook. And since I was on my own in the kitchen for the very first time in my life, with noone to show me stuff, and no cook to come in and conjure up yummy dishes for me, I had to start cooking.

And once I started, I realized that I loved it. The first few weeks in the kitchen were spent ladle in one hand stirring something on the stove and phone in the other hand asking Amma for instructions- which spice went in when, how much coconut to use and if I needed to splutter mustard for some curry or not. I remember Amma giving me instruction on how to make aviyal while she was attending a wedding. :P Yeah, I used to bug her incessantly. Then I discovered websites like bawarchi and pachakam and Sanjeev Kapoor and gradually, my cooking skills improved. I learnt to make a few North Indian delicacies and almost all South Indian ones. Where I come from, they say if you have mastered the preparation of the aviyal, you have mastered cooking. And I was one proud girl the day I made aviyal all by myslef and S polished off the huge helping on his plate and pronounced it absolutely yummy.

My Onasadya (Picture Courtesy: S and his D90)

Since I hadn't managed to find a job that time, I used to spend most of my time reading and watching TV. And I got hooked onto some of the food channels and shows. And that sparked my interest in Western cuisine. Soon I was roasting and grilling and trying out new ingredients and herbs and basically trying out dish after dish evey day. I also became bold enough to play around with recipes and ingredients according to my whims and ideas. And most often the result was good. I developed my own recipes and most often the food I cooked was deemed awsome by friends. The zenith of my culinary journey was last years Onam, where your's truly cooked a proper Mallu sadya from scratch. It took me almost a day and a half of preparation and a half day of cooking to manage everything but, I had succeeded in conquering the Everest of Mallu cooking. ;) Another fond memory is when my very picky sister ate everything I had cooked for her, and declared that I was good cook, although Amma's sambar was still the best. ;) And that, coming from someone who has exacting standards when it comes to food, was like the best compliment ever.. ;)

These days, I don't attempt elaborate meals and having a job means I don't have as much time on my hands to try and cook those either but once in a while on Fridays or on weekends I do attempt to cook something new. I do watch cookery shows and dream of the day I will have my own kitchen and outdoor grill and all. I do pore over cookery books and try out exciting recipes and torture S with "exotic" dishes. And I do love cooking for close friends and family. I love it when my sister still tells me that she misses my food sometimes. I love it when my friends sometimes ask me for recipes and tell me they want me to cook for them when we meet up. I love it when S tells me that I cook really well. I love it when my Amma tastes something I make and tells me its perfectly made. I love it when my Dad eats everything I put on his plate and tell me he never thought I'd be such a good cook. And although Amma's still the best cook in the world, I'm not so bad myself.. ;) hehe.. :)

Take the next left.. eh, say what??

2011-09-05T19:40:00.002+08:00

I am geographically challenged, or directionally challenged or whatever it is that you want to call it. Simply put, I don't understand directions. Period. And geography was one of my strong suits in school. I was the kid who used to score mostly full marks in geography and whose geography atlas was always neat, and properly marked and immaculate, and whose answer papers were a delight to look at according to the teachers. Ah! my teachers would be ashamed if they met me now. I can look at a map and figure out where a state or a city is. I can figure out the MRT system maps here (OK, school kids can figure them out, but for me its an achievement people!!). But ask me to look at a road map or get to some place using google maps and I'll be lost. Hell, I can't even figure out all the directions without using a compass or without someone pointing them out to me.

Not that I don't try my best to try and understand whatever directions are being given to me, but, I think my brain is wired not to understand them completely. I will follow if you tell me, "Go straight and take the first left and its the house at the end of the road"l. Now that, is simple. But when people tell me stuff like, "Go straight for like 3 kms and then take the third left, which is the one next to that auditorium.. you know that one right, and then the second right and there's a tiny road on your left and its the second house on your right", I want to scream "Stop!!". I don't understand!! Seriously, I'm not kidding.

There are people who have told me all I needed to do was keep in mind a few landmarks near to the place I want to go to and I wouldn't have any difficulty in getting there. Little do they know my idea of finding landmarks were way different from theirs. While they choose to remember movie theaters and bank headquartes and shopping malls, I would choose to remember the big huge tree right next to the bus stop that has gorgeous red flowers, or the huge hoarding of Amul that has that witty slogan on it. Invariably on my second trip that side, the tree wouldn't be flowering and the hoaridng would have been replaced with something better and I would be lost like always.

Then there are people who tell me that if I go by the same route like a few times I'll get it. Yeah right!! I worked in Chennai for a few months and till the day I quit, I didn't know the whole route to my office by heart. Hell, I get lost in my own hometown. I remember the time I joined CAT coaching classes. My Dad had taken me to the coaching center for like 2 weeks so that I would understand the way properly and even told me which bus to take and which bus stop to get off at and all. And in spite of all this, the first day I went alone, I got miserably lost. I got off at the wrong stop and walked around all kinds of roads and finally called up one of my friends and asked him to pick me up and drop me off. And the worst part is, when he asked me where I was, I wasn't even sure of that. I finally had to mouth the names of some shops and to his credit he knew exactly where I was stuck and where I was standing. So all thanks to him, I managed to make it to class.

I remember my MBA days when me and my friends used to walk around pretty much the whole of the city and hop in and out of shops and I survived just because they had a better sense of direction than I did. If I was alone, I would have walked all the way to Chennai or something. When I got married to S, we used to have huge fights because of this habit of mine to get miserably lost and not understand directions. One of the first things he did after I landed in Singapore after our wedding was to get me an MRT system map and tell me how to get from point A to point B. And to take me to the neighbourhood supermarket and teach me the way. He even drew a mini map for me with detailed instructions and landmarks and all, and the first time I went there by myself, I got lost. Another thing that added to my confusion in my initial days was that the buses here have only number and not names. Where I come from, (read God's Own Country), buses have names, like Eldhose and Mary and Priyadarshini and Pranavam and all. And you knew which bus went where. But here you have numbers, like 100, 135, 289 and to add to the confusion there are 100A, 268A and CT18 and all. And you need to be well- versed in these subtle differences to not get on the wrong bus. The only saving grace is that however lost you are, you can always flag down a cab and tell the driver where you want to go and you can be one hundred percent sure you'll get there.

Nowadays, my situation is a little better. I know how to get to my workplace and how to get back home. I can do my grocery shopping without getting lost. I can meet S at all our favourite restaurants and hangout places. I can go to the library and get back. I can get to S's office and back (although that takes a minimum of 3 phone calls to make sure I'm on the right bus). And I can look at a map and almost figure out routes and even remember permanent landmarks. And even if I'm lost I'll have an inkling of at least which direction I should head, to get to where I want to. There's still hope...... I think... :P

Some People.. Gah!!!

2011-09-01T22:15:00.002+08:00

Over the weekend, me and S had been to his cousin's place for lunch. As usual we were all sitting and talking and suddenly the conversation drifted to how some Indian men behave outside their motherland. And believe me, all of us women present there had some stories to share. Yeah, its a complaint that most people make and its not fair to crib about one's countrymen and we should be patriotic and all that. I know. But the way some of these men behave would make you want to dig a hole and bury yourself inside it and die of shame. Trust me, their behaviour is that despicable and humiliating at times.

Indian men are usually in their element on their home turf more than anywhere else in the world. Most of them change their way after seeing the light, or moving to a different country and seeing the way people behave. But there are always quite a few rotten apples that refuse to mend their ways, come whatever. It makes the majority of the normal, well- mannered people also look bad. I have come across quite a few here. Am not saying men from other Asian countries are way better. They have their vices too but, in some respects they are far better than their Indian counterparts. Let me list for you some behavioral traits of Indian men that make me wish I wasn't from the same country at all.

1. Staring at women- Age, color, size, body shape, nothing matters to these guys. They have to stare. Its like they are wired that way. You could be wearing a sari or salwar or jeans- they'll stare. I have always felt comfortable wearing anything here but the minute I step out to go to Little India (its evident from the name that its the one place to go for everything Indian here- from temples to dosa batter to Anand Bhavan food), I can feel the eyes boring through the back of my skull. Doesn't help even if I'm out with my husband and if I'm wearing my jeans and my loosest kurti. They stare. The same phenomenon can be noticed in trains and buses and bus interchanges also with just the lone Indian male present. Like I said, its some problem with their fundamental wiring I guess.

2. Talking loudly on the phone- Ok, it might not be just Indian men who are guilty of this, some women are too and so are people belonging to some of the other Asian nationalities. But since we are focussing on Indian men here let me stick to the one species. Yeah, they have to scream on their phones to whoever is at the other end and they would be screaming back too, invariably. I can most often hear them over the music blaring out of my ipod. And this is often in the middle of packed buses and trains. Now people here maintain this uncanny silence on buses and trains and stuff, even in the middle of rush hour. And even if they get a call or something, majority of them talk fast and that too very softly and hang up. And its in the middle of this that our guy gets a call and he starts screaming at the top of his lungs. Sigh!! you get the picture right?

3. Commenting on people- These comments are not just reserved to people who don't understand their own language, mind you. They comment on Indians like me too who prefer to talk in English too while in public. Most of them comment thinking that I don't understand the language but there are also people who don't care even if I do. And the commenting is not toned down even if you happen to be with family/ husband etc. To this category also belongs those guys who spout some tacky movie song the minute they set their eyes on you. S's cousin, who's the mother of two, had to endure this singing and commenting when she was on a cruise with her husband and kids. She says it was one of the most uncomfortable and humiliating experience of her life. And mind you some of these men were even married with children of their own!

4. Table Manners/ Hotel Ettiquette- This one's major. Most of these guys don't know how to behave in company or in a hotel. I have heard of people going on conducted tours and hoarding on free fruits that hotels supply, piling their plates high with much more food than they need during buffet breakfasts (breakfasts are usually free), addressing the waiters with whistles and what not, talking way too loudly and disrupting the ambience of the place, not taking care of kids if they happen to come in with their families, drinking much more than they can hold down, misbehaving with waiters and what not.

5. Flight Ettiquette- I have had the misfortune of meeting a few who belong to this category. They are usually always holding a cup full of beer/ liquor in one hand almost the entire time of the flight. They don't know how to eat, they drink way too much, argue with the flight stewerdesses when they refuse to serve them more liquor, try to strike up conversation with you if you happen to be a woman travelling alone and generally make a nuisance of themselves. They also push and jostle while standing in queue for immigration/ baggage claim etc, they will get off their seats the minute the plane touches down, they will not stop talking on their mobile phones even when the plane has started taxiing, will not wear their seat belts, will insist on smoking on board and what not. This category also exhibits the same symptoms of not taking care of theis kids and letting them rum amock up and down the aisle if they happen to be travelling with their family.

6. General Ettiquette- Holding open doors for the person behind you, letting a lady go first or giving up your seat for a pregnant woman. Nosiree. These men will not do all that. After all they are alpha males and are entitled to have the whole world spin around their tiny little finger. Only the other day, I was walking out of a McDonalds here with a bag slung over one shoulder and a latte in one hand, and had somehow managed to wrestle the door open when this Indian guy, with no regard for my size or the amount of effort I was taking to get the door open, just swpet in babbling on his phone. He was in his 20's and very well built, not some weakling mind you. And he went in like it was his God given right to have random women hold the door open for him. And all this without even a "Thank you" in return. Oh! I could have kicked that guy you know where.

7. Pushing/ Shoving/ Jumping queues- Jumping queues is not something that's very easily possible here, so these men make up for it by pushing and shoving and stomping on your feet and what not while trying to get in and out of trains and buses. Its dangerous and its not fun for people like me to have these men falling all over us in thir rush to get in or get out.

I could go on and on about how these men behave at supermarkets and temples and how they don't have any respect for the rules of the place they stay in and what not. But it wouldn't make an iota of difference I'm sure. And its because of these kind of people that even nice ones like you and me get a bad name. People generalize saying- "Indians are like this" or "Indians are like that". And that is when I feel like burying myslef in a hole and staying there. What do you guys think? Am I being too judgemental or do you guys also have stories to share?

Hum Tum :P

2011-08-31T20:53:00.001+08:00

Ahh, its been a while since I did a tag and honestly, today I didn't have the time to come up with anything better. Neither was I in any mood to sift through my brains to come up with something coherent. So here's a silly tag I found online. You are supposed to put your ipod on shuffle and answer these questions with whatever song comes on. :) So here goes. :)

1. If someone asks you, “are you okay” you say:

"Sweet Dream" by Beyonce. Lol.. true in a weird way!!

2. How would you describe yourself ?

"Oru Ooril" from Kakka Kakka. Wowie!! That's cool. :D

3. What do you like in a guy/girl ?

"Ennavale adi Ennavale" from Kadhalan. OK, I don't know what to make of that.

4. How do you feel today ?

"Circus" by Britney Spears. Yeah.. That's how I feel some days. Like I'm in the middle of a circus.

5. What is your life’s purpose ?

"All the right moves" by One Republic. Yeah. I'd like to make all the right moves all through my life. :)

6. What’s your motto ?

"Breakaway" by Kelly Clarkson. That's so not true. :) I don't want to break away from anyone or anything.

7. What do your friends think of you ?

"Aj Din Chadeya" from Love Aaj Kal. Really... weird..

8. What do your parents think of you ?

"Iridiscent" by Linkin Park. Not bad if you think of it in the sense that I brighten up their day and life. :)

9. What do you think of often ?

"Khamosh Raat" from Takshak. Lol... very very weird. LIke I have nothing else to think about.

10. What is 2 + 2 ?

"Shut up and Bounce" from Dostana. Seriously lol! Why would someone ask such a question? And if they do, they deserve this answer.

11. What do you think of your best friend?

"Etho Varmukilin" from Pookkaalam Varavaayi. Awww. :) This is one of my all time favourtie songs! Especially love it when S sings it.

12. What is your life story?

"Mera Jahaan" from Taare Zameen Par.

13. What do you want to be when you grow up?

"In The End" by Linkin Park. Wow!! Totally :D

14. What do you think when you see the person you like?

"Mundhinam" from Vaaranam Aayiram. Ok, thats a weird song for a person I like. Maybe when I see S. :P

15. What will you dance to at your wedding anniversary?

"Prem ki Naiyya" from APKGK. LIke we won't have any other song to play. Eeeww!!

16. What will they play at your funeral?

"Aaaj Ki Raat" from Don. Lolz!! Fun funeral!!

17. What is your hobby/interest?

"Yeh jo Des hai" from Swades. If you take that to mean travelling, then yeah ;)

18. What is your biggest fear?

"Tik Tok" by Kesha Time passing by? Seriously? I don't think so.

19. What is your biggest secret?

"Easier to Run" by Linkin Park. No clue what to make of that.

20. What do you want right now?

"Jashn-e-bahara" from Jodhaa Akbar. Lol...

21. What do you think of your friends?

"My Dil Goes" from Salaam Namaste

22. When you want to rush to the toilet, what do you think?

"A White Demon Love Song" by The Killers. LIke I have nothing else to think about.

23. Person you hate the most is in front of you, what will you tell the person ?

"Born This Way" by Lady Gaga. Like ask that person were you born this way? ;) lolzz

24. You have just won a lottery. What will you sing ?

"Ik Junoon (Paint it Red)" from ZNMD. Maybe I would.

25. What will you post this as?

"Hum Tum" from Hum Tum. :P

Kinda long weekend.. ;)

2011-08-30T18:13:00.002+08:00

Ok. So this is like my mandatory "I need to tell you guys what I did over the weekend" post. Yeah, I'm particular about torturing everyone like that. Friday was my usual cleaning and laundry day. Nothing new there. Tucked into some awesome soup after that and slept as soon as my head hit the pillow. Saturday morning I woke up to overcast skies and the rain tapping out the most amazing symphony on my bedroom window. I couldn't help the smile that spread across my face. And although I wanted so badly to wake up, I felt my eyes drifting shut and I crawled further under my duvet and slept. I was woken up much later by S- with his trademark smile that I love so much and a hot cuppa tea in hand. Oh! I love this man!! And since it was too late to cook and your's truly was feeling a wee bit lazy to do any form of physical exercise, S declared that we would go out to grab lunch- so off we went to this place called Coffee Club.

Its like a little cafe kinda place, but they have some awesome food too. I love their country style chicken pie- its like the perfect food for a rainy day. So there we sat, stuffing ourselves with some piping hot food and watching the drizzle. The cafe is not one of those closed, air conditioned ones which is another thing I love about it. You could actually feel the cool breeze blowing in and the stray raindrop hitting your face. Perfect bliss it was. Me and S then headed to the nearby mall to use up some gift vouchers S had been holding on to for sometime. The rain had gotten worse by the time we were done and we both couldn't think of a better place to be than home. So sated and happy, we headed home and slipped into bed for a "short" nap and ended up waking up only around 6 in the evening. The weather was still rainy and gloomy- the perfect weather for some hot chocolate. So I fixed myself a cup and slipped back into bed with a book while S proceeded to watch a movie. Dinner was very low key- just some soup and the weather was so magical that we both slept the minute we slipped into bed.

Sunday was bright and sunny and I was hoping to get some cooking done but again, I was way too lazy. Besides we were supposed to have lunch at S's cousin's place. His cousin's wife is such an awesome cook and I was dying to sample some of her delicacies. And lunch didn't dissappoint. Spicy chicken curry and idiyappam, ghee rice, prawn masala, capsicum curry, salads, raitha, fish fry and what not. And it was all topped off with some sinful, homemade chocolate brownie covered in yumm ice cream. Ah, I was in foodie heaven. I was soo stuffed with all the food that I got back home only to crash for another nap. I woke up in the evening and made some salald for me and S, fixed up some lunch for the next day and curled up to read again listening to some music, and crashed, And that was the perfect end to my perfect weekend.

Monday was supposed to be a holiday for us initially, but then we were asked to come into office to finish up some stuff. Sad part was, Monday was another rainy day and the perfect weather to sleep in. Good part was, we got to finish up stuff soon and head home by afternoon after which your's truly cooked up a storm for today and the rest of the week. And S came home earlier than usual with a bunch of flowers (:)) and declared that he would make dinner and went on to make the most amazing tortillas stuffed with chicken and fresh veggies. Oh it was divine. :) And today, being a holiday, has been spent just eating and reading and sleeping and chatting with some friends. Ahh bliss!! How are you guys doing?? :)

The Man...

2011-08-27T21:18:00.002+08:00

The rain lashed down in sheets, slowing down the otherwise fast moving city. Traffic was crawling along. People had rushed into malls to esape the sudden showers. I was just coming out after my short shopping spree. That's when I saw him.

He was sitting on the floor, arms wrapped tightly around himself to ward off the cold. I was sure the granite floor wasn't helping him at all. He had a couple of tattered bags beside him. Most people passing my chose to ignore him, like he was some blight on their otherwise perfect life and day. Must be true for most people too. Many saw him and chose to look away. He just sat there, looking down, mouth slightly open like he had difficulty breathing.

There was noise everywhere- traffic, the click click of heels, kids yelling, people laughing, noise from the skateboarning competition happening nearby, ringing of phones, a group of girls doing some promotion for some high end brand. And in the middle of all this he stuck out like a sore thumb- like an island of gloom. After all this was the poshest area in the city and he was sitting on the floor outside one of the poshest malls in the area. He would stick out for sure. This is where people came dressed in Guccis and carried LVs even for a casual lunch with friends or a visit to the supermarket.

I saw him and for some reason, found it hard to look away. All the joy I had found in my shopping and the clothes I had bought faded away. I felt as burdened as he was. Somehow, in his presece the joy I had found in these superficial things seemed silly and inconsequential. I wished I could go up to him and ask him if he was ok. I wished I could ask him why he was so depressed. I wished I could help him in some way. But I was swept away by the mass of people trying to get out of the rain. And I don't htink even if I had the chance I would have gone up to him and asked him all that. Somehow, our social conditioning prevents us from doing all that.

As I walked away, I glanced back one last time. He was sitting at the same spot, still hugging himself, still looking down. And all around him, people went about smiling and laughing and talking about their purchases and about the rain, squealing as they tried to escape the rain beating down. Noone paid him any attention. He sat there, seemingly lost in his own world. And all around him, banners screamed- Gucci, Prada, Burberry, Mont Blanc, DvF, Steve Madden, Chopard....

What is it about Fridays??

2011-08-26T22:49:00.002+08:00

What is it about Fridays that makes you wake up with a smile on your face regardless of the fact that the sky outside is an inky blue and the heavens seem to have unleashed all their fury in the form of sheets of water that beat down mercilessly?

What is it about Fridays that even though you can't wear the outfit you were planning on wearing, you are still happy to slip into your favourite pair of jeans and a t- shirt that fits you like second skin and still feel good?

What is it about Fridays that in spite of carrying an umbrella, the rain drenches you and yet all you do is breathe in the fresh, crisp, cool morning air?

What is it about Fridays that in spite of like 6 buses not stopping by your bus stop in the morning you still don't feel pissed or glance at your watch to show your impatience?

What is it about Fridays that eventhough you have a feeling that you might be late to office, your mind refuses to slip into panic mode?

What is it about Fridays that eventhough you were skeptical about catching your regular bus you somehow manage to and feel insanely happy at having done that?

What is it about Fridays thateventhough the guy sitting in front you is playing music so loud that the whole of the bus can hear it, you shrug it off with a smile?

What is it about Fridays that all you can think about at work is about all the stuff you'll be doing over the weekend?

What is it about Fridays that when you are having lunch, your mind is thinking of all the yummy food you could gorge on over the weekend?

What is it about Fridays that fills your mind with a certain restlessness?

What is it about Fridays that with every passing hour your heart seems to get lighter?

What is it about Fridays that conjure up images in your mind of snuggling up and sleeping some more and not worrying about being late for office?

What is it about Fridays that makes you feel like everything is suddenly right with the world?

What is it about Fridays that puts a sudden spring in your step and some excitement in your being?

What is it about Fridays that makes you smile and say,"aaahhhh.. finally.. its here"?

Thank God its Friday!!! ;)

PS: And at the end of this day, yours truly had one of her worst nightmares coming true. Yup, I got stuck for like an hour in a lift with like ten other people, which for someone who suffers from claustrophobia is absolute hell. I was furiously pinging S and Fashionista (thank God for amazing cellphone reception) and trying to stay calm and breathe. I was sweating bucketloads and pleading with God to get me out and restraining myself from wringing the necks of all the others who were stuck with me 'cos all they could think of doing was crack jokes and laugh non stop. I have never been more glad to get out into the open. Phewww!!!

Off My Bookshelf -2

2011-08-24T21:27:00.004+08:00

Title: Change of Heart

Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton

Author: Jodi Picoult

Over the past week I read quite a number of books and one among them was "Change of Heart" by Jodi Picoult. Now I had read just one book of hers before this and that was "My Sister's Keeper" and although the subject matter of the book and the manner in which it was dealt was amazing, I found the book a little too dragging for my taste. So when I saw "Change of Heart", and saw the thickness of the book, I was a little skeptical. But then I read the blurb and I was hooked. I couldn't wait to get home and start reading. And I loved it. Barring a few minute flaws here and there, the book was amazing and for
its size, a fast reaad. I loved the cover illustration of the book too.

(Image Courtesy: Google Images)

The book tells the story of June Nealon. She loses her first husband in an accident which she and her daughter Elizabeth survives. She gets married again, this time to Kurt- the police inspector who was in charge of investigating her first husband's death, and thinks her life couldn't be more perfect. Then she discovers she's pregnant again. In the process of renovating her house to make place for the new baby, she hires a handyman Shay Bourne. And that she says is the beginning of the end. June returns from her routine scan one day to find her husband and daughter brutally murdered. Shay is labelled as the only suspect as all evidence points to him and is arrested. After much deliberation the jury decides to award him the death penalty.

Eleven years go by and Shay who is awaiting execution is transferred to the I-tier at the Concord State Prison. June meanwhile struggles to come to terms with the death of her husband and her daughter and also with the fact that her younger daughter Claire is dying and only a heart transplant can save her. And out of the blue she is told that there is a heart available. But, it belongs to Shay Bourne- the man who is responsible for destroying her family. The book talks about the choice June has to make. Whether she decides to take the heart and save her daughter or to let her thirst for vengeance get in the way. Caught in the middle of all this is Michael- a priest who is appointed Shay's spiritual counsellor and who starts doubting his faith and religion after a few meetings with him, Maggie- Shay's lawyer and a staunch atheist, Lucius- Shay's friend in prison, an artist with HIV who is in prison for murdering his lover and many many more.

Each chapter is told from a different person's point of view. Although sometimes it confuses you and sometimes you are left wishing you knew more about a particular character, this hopping from one person to another also helps the reader to understand the whole issue from different perspectives. The writing, is typical Picoult- touching, pulling at your heartstrings. Most characters are well drawn out, especially Michael and Maggie. I, personally would have loved to read more about June and her emotional trauma- very little is mentioned about that except for the fact that she keeps confusing Claire's childhood memories with Elizabeths' and her thirst for revenge.

There is also a serious religious debate that runs through the book which is reflected in Michael's questioning of his faith and the teaching of the Church that he has been believing in since he remembers and in Maggie's inner turmoil where she's left wondering about her belief in the lack of a God. The book also focuses heavily on the Gnostic Gospels, a collection of around 52 texts containing teachings of many prophets and spiritual leaders, including Jesus, which were written in the time period from the 2nd to the 4th century AD. These documents do not form part of the standard Bible but are a part of the New Testament Apocrypha. (for more details on the history, discovery and contents of these texts please refer Wiki.) There are also debates about the treatment of prisoners and their rights and the validity of capital punishment.

The book has managed to weave together beautifully themes of love, loss, forgiveness, redemption, religion, justice, faith and truth. Ok, enough reading this. Go grab a copy and read this now. I give this book 4 stars!!

Home Alone.. :)

2011-08-23T22:06:00.002+08:00

You know how they say that you never miss a person until that person is far away from you. Yeah, that happened to me. S deserted me for the whole of last week and went off to home sweet home and me, the poor little darling was left to fend for herself. :( I would have tagged along if not for the fact that if I go to my boss with yet another leave application, he might send me on a permanent chutti. But anyways, before S was set to leave I was all extra brave and happy and telling him and my hysteric family that I would definitely be able to manage by myself and I was actually looking forward to not having S around for a whole week. And to tell you the truth, although I missed him- missed talking to him and fighting with him and curling up with him while he watched some movie and I read some book, I still did have a jolly good time.

Since I had to work for five of the eight days S was away I had just three days completely to myself. And I spent them finishng book after book, chatting with some friends catching up on some movies, gossiping with my sister and cooking simple yet yumm food like dal- chawal and rice- rasam. And I did a lot of thinking and some scribbling in my journal which was gathering dust and grime on my table. And it was nice to be on my own after a long time. Yes, I have stayed alone at hostels and stuff during my college days but nothing beats the feeling of living in your own apartment, going to work. coming back, cooking your own food and chilling out with a book or a movie or a TV show that you love.

The past week was a good break for me and S. S had a good week at home with his sisters and his nieces and his best buddy and I had a good time by myself. I have heard most people saying that being alone is something they don't like- they feel scared and disturbed and jumpy and what not. But I enjoyed every minute of it. Yes, I did complain to all who listened as to how S had ditched me and ran off all on his own. I loved the pampering via phone calls courtesy Mom and Dad. I loved the million messages from S and my sis asking me to detail my every move. It was as if suddenly I was a kid, and needed to be kept under the radar at all times. ;)

But the best part was the solitude and the freedom. Freedom to do the things I liked when I wanted to. To sleep as late as I wanted to on the weekends. To stay up as late as I wanted and read. To read without interruptions. To watch my favourite TV shows and movies. To make only food that I like. To play the music I wanted. To write for as long as I wanted without any break. Mind you, its not that I don't do the same things when S is around, but somehow, there are always interruptions. Someone at the door, something that S wants rightaway, some food that I want to eat but he doesn't feel like eating that day. There is also the pressure to do only things that both of us like to do. But the past week we both did stuff that we wanted to do individually. And it was fun. We are both more energized and happy and relaxed.

And the solitude did wonders for me. I read faster, I wrote much more. My thoughts had a clarity I usually find hard to achieve. My brain wasn't buzzing with a million things like it usually does. I wasn't worried about anything. It was blissful. :) And as much as I loved the alone time, I'm also glad its over. 'Cos for me, too much of alone time equals depression. ;) Yeah, I'm weird like that. :)

And S came back with a horde of goodies for me- hommemade food, pickles, my favourite Trivandrum Chicken, a gorgeous purple Hidesign bag, kurtis, books and three more pairs of shoes!! :D Ok now lemme go and stuff myself with some good food. Until later!! Ciao!!

Friendship Is...

2011-08-18T22:02:00.001+08:00

Some people stay with you through life while some are in your life only for a season. Some stick by you through thick and thin while others bid adieu when things gets rough for you. Some are the epitome of loyalty while others stab you in the back so deep the minute you look away. I have had a taste of both these kinds of people in my life. I have loved and been loved back as much, sometimes maybe more. And I have loved and trusted and have had people trample all over me. The former are the miniscule handful of people i classify as friends. True gems they are, and they have proven and keep proving time and again how very precious and priceless they are. And their friendship is something I simply could not live without.

Friendship is...

when you can talk to her about anything under the sun from fashion to life to love to babies to sex and not feel embarassed and vice versa.
when he stays up late on chat to give you company throughout the night 'cos he knows you are alone and are going through a rough patch emotionally.
when she messages you at three in the morning to ask you if you are doing ok 'cos you've just lost someone very close to your heart and she does it in the middle of her outing with her family and her little baby whom she doesn't get to see frequently.
when you log into chat everyday morning and wait impatiently for her to come online and when she doesn't, you feel panicky and lonely and have to message her on FB/ mail her/ sms her/ call her and find out whats happening.
when you tell him you are too upset and sad to talk and he says I'll be here if you need me and hangs around online waay beyond his usual logout time in case you need to talk to him.
when you ping her and she knows exactly what to tell you to make your day.
when he calls you up at two in the morning and says he wanted to talk to you because you sound cute on the phone when you are sleepy.
when he drives almost 60 kilometers just so he can pick you up from work and drop you off at your apartment and make sure you are safe at home and not complain even once while doing this.
when he cancels plans with his girlfriend so he can come over and help you move into your new apartment.
when you fight with her over who gets to carry the shopping bags 'cos either of you wants the other to carry the heavy ones.
when you see her after ages and you are so happy that you have a jaw that hurts bad by evening from all the smiling that happens.
when he spends hours with you helping you choose between two black duppattas which to him looked exactly the same.
when you want to go to the beach on a weekend and he comes and picks you up right after his night shift and takes you and makes sure you have fun.
when he comes and picks you up from the railway station early in the morning because he doesn't want you taking a cab or an auto 'cos its not safe.
when you sneak into her room after lights out time at the hostel so you can talk some more and even after you get yelled at by the warden who's spotted you sneaking in, ten minutes after she's off to bed you proceed to do exactly that.
when you have to talk to her everyday or your day doesn't feel complete and eventhough its silly things that you talk about your day always feels so much better when she's around.
when you know the meaning behind every cryptic status update and wall post waay before anyone else and you both giggle over it on chat.
when you call her up and although its been ages since you spoke to each other you can launch into a conversation without any sort of awkwardness.
when she knows all your favourite things and vice versa including what she would order at a restaurnat and that she doesn't like seafood and that she loves mushrooms and spicy stuff and what not.
when you were going through a very rough patch and although she couldn't be there in person she would be there with words of wisdom and support.
when you can be as crazy and as silly and as stupid as you want and he/ she won't judge you for it.
when you are as different from her as chalk from cheese and still she loves you to bits for the person you are and vice versa.
when you wake him up from much needed sleep and bawl your head off on the phone because you were generally depressed with everything in life and he proceeds to patiently hear you out and cheer you up.
when you have had falling outs and misunderstandings and what not but you have always gotten over all that and remained as thick as thieves 'cos you know you can't do without the other and that she's too precious to lose.
when you know that no matter what there's someone out there who'll always stick with you against the cruel world out there and always always be your biggest fan and cheerleader..

PS: You guys know who you all are. I treasure you guys so so much. You guys are some of the best things that have happened to me in life and I wouldn't be myself without you. Each of you are like a part of my soul. Love you all sooooo much!! Mwaaaahhhh!!!

An Ode to Glass Bangles

2011-08-17T21:05:00.002+08:00

Today, as I was staring at my laptop screen and wondering what to blog about, I noticed a scar on my hand. Its been there for ages and I got it when I was in school. I was probably around 8 or 9 years old then and as tomboyish as I was, there was one thing girly that I liked- glass bangles. Yes, weird. I loved the multicoloured bangles so much. It could be because of the fact that my grandmom would buy tons of those bangles in every color imaginable for me back then. She loved to dress me up, as much as I hated dressing up. The only time I wouldn't protest was when she put those bangles on. I loved the tinkling and the way the light refected off them and bathed the room in their bright sparkly colours. I would keep shanking them around so much so that my arms would hurt. But it wasn't easy to source those bangles back then, mind you. Most of them would be bought for the temple festival. It was then that these bangle sellers would descend in droves and set up their wares right outside the temple gates. And the bright multicoloured, sparkle would be the first thing to greet you the minute you reached. I still remember the colors- rich reds, dark greens, bright blues and yellows, all jostled for your attention while you were busy thinking of the number of colours you could possibly buy. The sellers would also have these cheap nail colours and chains and rings and earrings and what not. But it was always the bangles that would invariably draw your attention to the store.

(Image Courtesy: Google Images)

I had every possible colour you could imagine. I had stuff that matched all my pattu pavadas which is what I would be made to wear everytime a temple visit was in the offing. It was also worn for marriages and other special functions. And also during summer holidays. That was when you broke all of the old bangles and demanded new ones. And it was one such summer day that I got that scar. I was prancing around the house running from my Grandpa 'cos I wanted to play for some more time and didn't want to have a bath and I ran smack into the dining room door. I managed to get a huge bump on my forehead and break all the bangles on my arms, one of which had broken and made a deep foray into the skin on my arm. It hurt like crazy and hurt even more when I pulled it out. And since then I became a wee bit wary about wearing them all the time. But that didn't stop my love affair with glass bangles. I still liked them and wore them whenever I could. I had them in all colours imaginable- the red ones that were such a deep deep red that even cherries would want to be that shade of red, the green ones which were such a lush green, the yellow ones which were like tiny slivers of sunshine, the blue ones which were like strings of the sky and the rare oranges and purples and blacks and pinks.

But as I grew up, I started growing out of wearing them. I liked them still but it wasn't cool to wear glass bangles anymore. You were supposed to wear black metal ones and silver ones and brass ones, not glass. And then I went on to a stage when I kinda stopped wearing bangles altogether. And to this day I'm stuck there. I do wear the odd wooden bangle some days- they seem to be all the rage these days. But there are some days when I miss the tinkle of those magical slivers of glass. And so, the last time I went home I decided I would get my hands on some- to see if I still loved them as much. But imagine my shock when not one single shop had them!! Apparently, girls didnt want to wear them anymore. Everyone wanted just the metal ones or brass ones or the ones with stone work and faux crystals and all. And the glass ones had pretty much become extinct. I found just one shop where the owner said he had some and then proceeded to dive deep into the dark bowels of the store to produce like 20 red ones- most of which were broken and almost all of which were covered in such a thick layer of grime you had to look long and hard to make out they were actually red in color. I bought them anyways- just as a keepsake. A memory of an amazing, fun filled and colourful childhood. And I still have them. Who knows, maybe someday, I might be the only person in the world to own glass bangles.

(Image Courtesy: S & his D90)

Anyways, these days I'm relegated to buying the wooden ones. They look pretty and I like the fact that they are chunky and you just have to wear one bangle to instantly spruce up an outfit. I also love the fact that they seem to be much mroe my style than the other types of bangles but sometimes I miss the sparkle and the tinkle and the play of colours that these glass miracles bought into my life. Or maybe its my childhood that I miss. Or maybe the memories of my Grandma.. All I know is that the bangles of today, don't have the appeal of the bright bold glass ones... Here's to the dying breed of glass bangles..

Things Fall Apart...

2011-08-16T19:42:00.002+08:00

For every high in life, there is a low, and vice versa. So they say. And I experienced this firsthand in a span of just 2 days,this past week. The high was when my sister got placed with this awesomely huge company and being offered an awesomely huge pay packet also to boot. And the low came one day later, when my Grandpa passed away. There I was, one day feeling like I was the happiest person in the whole world and the next day fate reaches out and rips off a part of my heart. But such are the ways of life and you can't do anything other than wipe your tears and move on. And hope for better things in the days to come.

Death is always shocking- whether sudden or expected. My Grandpa's was expected. He'd been battling a cancerous growth in his throat since last year. I never mentioned it on this blog 'cos I like to think of this blog as primarily a happy place. And again, thats just the way I am- I find it difficult to talk about such things. I had prepared myself for this day from the minute my Mom called me with the diagnosis and with the fact that he wouldn't be around for that many days. I was shattered to say the least. But my Mom was miles away at home, with him, taking care of him all by herself and I had to buckle up and be there for her. And so I did. And Grandpa surprised us all with his reaction. He dealt with it the way he's always dealt with things throghout his life- with careful precision and planning. He was happy. He had had a full life. He had no other health problems. He was merely puzzled as to how he could possibly have the disease. He used to smoke once upon a time but since I remember, he hadn't touched a cigarette. But that's what proved to be his nemesis.

Grandpa wasn't bitter. He was just worried about putting us through all the trouble of taking care of him. The doctors said surgery was risky because of his age. They suggested chemo and he agreed. The sessions pretty much drained him out completely and he was bedridden for a while. The growth refused to shrink or die. Grandpa however felt better for the slighetest period of time before he slipped back. I had been home to see him in May. He was weak. The proud gait he once had no longer there- replaced by a hunch 'cos of the pain and the tiredness. But he was still optimistic and cheerful and happy. He was finding it difficult to swallow by then but he still sat with me and had all his favourite dishes- a painfully slow lunch but he wanted to have that memory as much as I did. He loved it when we stayed with him for a couple of days. He tried his best to talk to us- the pain was making it difficult and the medicines would make him slur. And even when I was leaving, he told me he'd see me the next time I came home. We both knew that wasn't going to happen. We were both fighting tears. But we both smiled through all that. That was the last time I saw him. I didn't go down for his cremation. I couldn't and preferred not to. I prefer to remember him happy and so full of life, not lifeless. I have a million memories of him and that will suffice.

He has shaped my character, my outlook, my ideals, my values and traditions in a way only a grandfather can. He was a self made man. All that he achieved in his life he had to struggle his damnedest to get. He was a survivor. He had a great attitude to life- he loved every minute of it. He was always keeping himself busy- reading, pottering around in his vegetable garden or the paddy fields or organizing things at the nearby temple. He was always willing to help others- be it taking care of my grandma's siblings, their studies and marriages or taking care of my grandma's mom in her old age. In those days, this wasn't expected from a son-in-law. He's always made sure everyone's lives were comfortable. He was the kind of person to always put others comforts over his own. He was also a very simple man- from his dressing to the way he lived.

I remember those years when me and my sister stayed with him. It was ome of the best years of our lives. He would do everything from- waking us up in the morning, to getting our breakfast and packing our lunches, making sure we did our homework, teaching us, playing with us and telling us bedtime stories every night. All my knowledge of Ramayana and Mahabharata come from him. I remember when I was in 3rd standard and was staying with him. My parents and sister were elsewhere. My Dad was posted in a part of Kerala where good schools were hard to find and so I had to stay with my grandparents. My Grandpa would sit with me every evening and go through all my homework and teach me and make me revise everything that was taught. The only thing he couldn't teach me was Hindi. But he still made an effort. I had an aunt staying nearby who would teach me and my Grandpa would stay around and try to learn just so he could teach me.

My sister was always his favourite. She was the one who loved Math and loved pottering around outside like him unlike me who was a bookworm. And till his last day he would ask for her. His memory was active only in snatches in those last days but he was over the moon when he heard about my sister's placement. He was always our biggest cheerleader- in whatever we chose to do. He encouraged my writing as much as he was proud of my sister's math skills. He was always pushing us to do better. Telling us we were better than we thought. I was blessed to have him with me on the day of my wedding. The fact that my wedidng fell on the same day as his birthday made it even more special for him. It was one of the happiest days of his life.

My Grandpa was a mini legend to those who knew him. He's touched too many lives and influenced too many people to count. He was an amazing human being who lived by the values he believed in. I would have loved to have him around when I had kids- he would have been overjoyed. And I would have loved for them to learn everything he had to teach. I'll miss you Grandpa, more than you can ever imagine. I might have fought with you and rebelled and put you through tidbits of hell growing up, but I have always loved and admired and aspired to be the kind of person you were. You'll always be in my heart. And I don't know why I still expect you to be there when I come home next, reading the Bhagavatham or something else in your amazing voice at dusk, looking up, spotting me and motioning me to come sit by your side. I still do...

Off My Bookshelf-1

2011-08-10T20:13:00.002+08:00

Title: I Am A Cat

Publisher: Tuttle Publishing

Author: Soseki Natsume, Translated into English by Aiko Ito & Graeme Wilson

(Off My Bookshelf is a feeble attempt by me to review the books that are currently on my bookshelf. Books that I have read and have influenced me in some way. I hope this a good start for many more reviews to come.)

"I am a cat. As yet I have no name". Thus begins Soseki Natsume's "I Am A Cat", the magnificient, satirical tale of a house cat and his short albeit eventful life among humans. Found by a member of the servant class in Japan, as he is about to almost die of cold and hunger, the cat who is never named throughout the novel, becomes the newest member of the Sneaze household. The household consists of Dr. Sneaze, who is a teacher and not a practitioner of medicine, his wife and three kids and the servant O-San. And thus begins the cat's life and his study of the life of humans and animals around him.

Natsume originally intended for this work to be short story consisting of only the first chapter of the novel, but was later encouraged by his friend to extend it into a full- length novel. Natsume was born Natsume Kinnosuke, and went on to become an expert in Chinese and English literature. Although Natsume's literary career begain with compositions of haiku poetry, it is this work that earned him fame and critical acclaim.

The story is satirical and provides a fascinating study of Japanese society, life and culture in the period after the Meiji Restoration. . It deals with a variety of topics- life, love, creativity, philosophy, psychology, culture, attitude. The most important focus being on the influence of Western culture on the Japanese way of living, and the disconnect it brings into the life of the characters.

The style of writing is pompous and grand and befitting one of royal status, which is ironical, because the narrator/ wriiter is just a housecat. The novel chronicles the life of the cat and some of his companions- Rickshaw Blacky, Tortoiseshell- and also those of the humans he comes to interact with on a daily basis. The cat observes the way his master seems to be struggling economically, has delusions of being a scholar and a highly evolved being, but is in fact thoroughly confused about everything in his life and is a hypocrite. How his mistress seems to worry only about money and doesn't understand or care about her husband's ways. How Mr. Waverhouse, Dr. Sneaze's friend seems to have no sense of social courtesy and goes on to spin the most fantastical tales that his poor master almost always ends up swallowing, being utterly naive. How Mr. Avalon Coldmoon, one of Sneaze's friends and former student spends his days polishing glass beads in his quest for a doctorate in science. How the rich Goldfields across the street, are looking for a suitable match for the daughter Opula and the crooked ways in which they go about gathering information about prospective suitors and so on.

Interspersed between these descriptions and conversations, are the cat's observations and opinions on the people he lives with, and the people he comes to meet in his time. How the cat, being a much more evolved and way more intelligent life form, compared to humans, knows better than all these people put together about everything under the sun. And goes on to record his views on everything, speaking with great authority about things from society to politics to the principles of the Zen masters to education to food and lifestyle and what not.

The book takes time to get through, since it makes you think. And sometimes you have to reread the things you have already read to understand completely what the author wanted to put across. But for the most part, the book entertains in the form of the wry humor with which the cat has penned down his observations, with the way the other characters have been sketched out and with the sheer beauty of the writing. Although the book is a translation, in my opinion it has been translated quite beautifully. Except for a few sentences here and there that I found a bit odd and casual when compared to the rest, the book is beautifully pieced together.

I would say a must read for anyone who enjoys a satirical view of things. Its a long book, so make sure you have more than enough time on your hands to read it at one go. The book is in 3 volumes including 10 different parts. The beauty of the book is also in the fact that each of these 10 parts can be read as a standalone story. But I suggest you read it like a novel rather than a collection of short stories. At times, the descriptions and inner monologues of the cat might seem a little tedious but every sentence makes a point. So try not to skip any parts. Do get your hands on this one if you can. :)

Time and Tide..

2011-08-08T23:37:00.002+08:00

There are 24 hours in a day. Simple. Elementary right? Something that we have been taught since school. But somehow these days I find it difficult to believe in. Why, you ask? Simply because of the fact that in spite of having so many hours in a day, I always find so many things undone at the end of it. Everyday, when I wake up, I would already have made a mental list of things to be done on that particular day. And if it is the weekend, I would have made the list days in advance. So, I wake up with this list and as I progress through the day, I cross off the stuff that I have done. It works perfectly for me at work and usually at the end of my workday I find that I have accomplished whatever it is that I had decided on at the beginning of the day. I wish the same could be said for the rest of the tasks on my list. Everything other than work type things remain either undone or half done.

My Dad has always believed that I am terrible at time management. To an extent, I think he's right too. I usually tend to get lost in thought or obsess over certain things so much, that some of the more important stuff remains half done. But these days, I don't think thats the case. Half my day is spent at work and in commuting to and from work. I leave home around 7.30-8.00 am and get back home only by 7.30-8.00 pm. Then, there's the household chores that need to be done. Some phone calls to be made, ironing to be done and in the middle of all this madness I manage to type out a blog post also if I have the time. And if I'm lucky, read a few pages of a book before I call it a night and slip into blissful oblivion. But some days, as I curl up under my duvet, I am left with the disturbing sensation that there's so much more that I wanted to get done, that somehow didn't happen.

Ironic, considering the fact that this time last year, I was stuck at home 24 hours a day without a job and was cribbing about having too much time and not knowing what to do with it and wishing I could get back to being a part of the productive workforce. And I'm not cribbing about having a job now. I'm happy I have a reason to drag myself out of bed everyday. And the paycheck at the end of the month helps too. But, I feel that my job takes up so much of my time, that some days I'm just going through the motions of my life and not really living. Every single thing I do on any particular day, seems to revolve around work and the stuff that happens at work. Everything else seems to have been pushed, very unceremoniously to the background. Its like the silent whirr of the aircon. Essential but you never really pay any attention to it.

I have bought too many books over the past couple of months. But I haven't had the time to finish reading even one of them. It does't help that almost all of them deal with very serious subject matters and cannot be read with frequent breaks in between. You need to read and think and assimilate and think some more to actually grasp the meaning of what the authors have painstakingly put down. That doesn't happen these days. I read some and then work interferes and the next time I pick up the book, I realize that I have lost that feeling of continuity and I have to read some portions of what I already have been through to understand the writing.

I used to do some painting last year and these days I don't have time for it at all. I don't even know where my sketchbooks are. I have been neglecting my painting that badly. I used to do major cooking and whip up very creative dishes. But now, if I get the time to whip up a simple meal that consists of rice and sambar I'm glad, 'cos thats all I can manage these days. I used to type out frequent mails to my sis and Dad and some friends but these days, I seem to have no time or energy for all that. I used to scribble in my journal all the time and now my journal lies on my bedside table gathering dust.

I could go on and on about the many many big and small things that I don't have time for these days but it would bore you guys. And it would change nothing I guess. I don't know how I can make more time to get more things done. I would love to be more creative, would love to write more and read more and cook more. I would like to have time to think. I would like to have time to paint. And somehow 24 hours don't seem to be enough to do that. I should either give up sleep or I should get a 3 day weekend I guess. Maybe then life would seem to slow down a little bit and not rush along so fast that I'm always left gasping for breath trying to catch up with it. If only...

The Usual Weekend Recap Post

2011-08-08T23:15:00.002+08:00

Usually, all my weekends are packed with "to-do" lists that are a mile long, that in spite of whatever I do, I never manage to complete everything on Saturday as I want to and stuff invariably overlaps to Sunday, which means I hardly get time to do the things I really want to do. Like finish reading the little mountain of books I have been accumulating over the past couple of months. Or work on my writing. No, not the writing on this blog, but the kind of writing where I pick up my journal and put pen to paper, and let the words form their own story. My journal has been gathering dust for the past few months and I feel myself dying a slow creative and intellectual death.

So this past weekend was kind of a welcome break. Saturday began with the usual early morning grocery shopping and a healthy dose of my favourite Murugan's Idlis. I swear the guys there have my order memorized by now. :P And I was worried about spending the entire day at home cooking and doing the usual stuff that I do on Saturdays. But the minute we got home, S declared that he was taking over the reins of the household for the weekend and asked me to go and do whatever it is that I wanted to do. And although he interrupted me quite a few times to get the recipe for some dish, I got to spend quite a few hours doing what I love- reading. Result being, over the weekend, I managed to navigate halfway through a book I had started to read a long time back. Its not one of those easy to read kind of books, which is why I have been so slow in reading it. It takes some time, reading something, and reflecting upon it, and then reading it again and finding something you missed initially. And tomorrow being a holiday here, I'm pretty confident I'll be finishing the book tomorrow. :)

Sunday was decadence personified. I went shopping. :) And before you guys judge me, it was for books and I was using the gift card that S had gotten me as a birthday present. Result being me getting richer by almost a dozen books and S almost dozing off on the comfy couch at the bookstore. But the highlight of the weekend was yet to come. I had been craving Indian Chinese food for a while and so, on Sunday we decided to lunch at this place here called, "The Fifth Season" that specializes in Tangra cuisine. Its a combination of Tibetan, Chinese and Indian cooking styles and the end result is mouthwatering. We started off with their award winning chicken momos. Oh! To say it was divine would be an understatement. I could live on just those momos everyday for the rest of my life. It was that good. It was followed by fish in spicy chilly gravy, chicken with chilli and lots of garlic, kung pao chicken and their signature chilli chicken, all with the amazing mixed fried rice. Oh, I don't think I have eaten so much in ages.I'm usually very picky about my food and S was surprised at the speed at which I was stuffing food into my mouth. :P And to top off our awesome lunch we went to this small sweet place nearby that serves awesome Indian sweets, and gorged on Rasmalai and Rasgollas.

I swear, S almost had to pick me up and put me in the taxi after the feasting I did. After getting back home, I had grandiose plans of reading some more, but it was raining outside and all that good food had made me so sleepy that the minute I curled up on the bed with my book, I fell asleep. And slept for like 3 hours straight!! Which for me is kind of a huge deal 'cos am the kind of person who never sleeps during the day. I slept so soundly that S had to kick me out of bed by the time it was 7 so that I could talk to my Dad. But, I made up for the time I slept off by reading into the night and hitting the sack pretty late.

Altogether, my weekend was bliss and tomorrow also promises to be the same. Am hoping this will set a pattern for all the weekends to come. ;) You know, S cooking and me reading. ;) heh.. S, honey, you listening??

Word-ly Wise

2011-08-05T22:06:00.003+08:00

This time around for my birthday, one of the things that my husband contemplated gifting me was an Ipad or Kindle. He had even asked me a couple of weeks before the big day if I wanted to get one. And my answer was no. He tried to tell me about the advantages of having an Ipad. I could carry around more than one book with me at a time. I could read on the bus. It was much more easier to carry around and more convenient. But my answer still was a no. Don't get me wrong. I'm not someone who's dead against technology. I'm more than happy to be able to chat with my friends on my daily commute or check my FB whenever I feel like it but I draw the line when it comes to books. Again, I'm all for not wasting paper and protecting the environment and all but I need to read proper books rather than reading them on a screen. Yeah, I'm old fashioned that way.

Even to this day two of may most favourite smells in the world are related to books- the smell of brand new books and the smell of pages yellowing from too much reading and too many years of being read. I love buying a new book, opening it to some random page and inhaling deeply the fresh scent of the new pages, the ink just dry, holding the promise of a whole new world waiting to be explored. I also love picking up the old and tattered copies of much loved and much read books from my bookshelf and inhaling the mixture of scents the pages hold- of coffee spills and food spills, of old and fading fountain pen ink, and sometimes, the faint smell of pencil lead from the scribbling in the margins.

My love affair with books began when I was a kid. My Dad was a voracious reader and so was my Grandfather. And from the time I started talking, my Mom would read to me from the many books my Dad had started to buy for me. I remember my first alphabet book- it was blue and had a picture of a kid holding a teddy bear on its cover. Back then, we were living in Shillong, my Dad was just an Officer with SBI and his pay wasn't that great. I can imagine how difficult it must have been for them to keep aside money to buy these story books for me. Believe me, I had a huge collection. By the time I could read on my own, I had fallen deeply in love with the world of words. I could spend hours with a book, unlike other kids who wanted to go out and play. I was content and lost in the world of fairy tales- Snow White, Alladin, The Little Mermaid were all my best friends. I still remember my favourite stories from when I was a kid- one was an African fairy tale titled, "Ananse and the Sky God" and the other was a tale about a pancake that didn't want to be eaten and ran away called, "The Magic Pancake" I think. I even remember the illustrations from those books.

By the time I was around 10, my Dad introduced me to Sherlock Holmes and Agatha Christie. I devoured those books. I read all the classics too- Tom Sawyer, David Copperfield, Huck Finn and the abridged versions of almost all of Shakespear's works. By this time we were back in Kerala and living in Cochin and my favourite haunt in town was a bookstore called Paico. Everytime my Dad asked me what I wanted for a gift, I would say books and we would head to Paico. I remember the hours I spent there browsing through the racks, too short to reach many of the titles and wanting my Dad to pick many of them for me.

As my reading and tastes in books evolved and matured, I discovered new bookstores and libraries to fuel my hunger for books. I remember the British Library at Thiruvananthapuram, where I would happily spend hours reading through books on weekends. It was there that my love for Astronomy and Psychology grew. It was also during this time that my Dad stopped choosing books for me and threw open his entire library for my reading pleasure. Oh, how I loved it! I progressed rapidly from Christie to Wodehouse to Morris to Hemingway. My love for books is what prompted me to give up a degree in Engineering for one in Literature.

Once I started my degree classes, my college and department libraries became my favourite hangouts. And I discovered a whole new world of literature and authors. I devoured books by Susan Sontag, Virginia Woolf, Maya Angelou, Ben Okri, Doris Lessing, Margaret Atwood, Pablo Neruda, Chinua Achebe, Naipaul, Sylvia Plath and the likes. I still read them, and have added their books to my own collection. Their books were so captivating and opened up an entirely new world of culture and imagination for me that there was no looking back. In the yellowing pages of those books I found whiffs of joy and grief, mirth and despair, longing and passion. I remember the many nights I spent reading in torchlight after the "lights-out" time at the hostel, the time I woke up at 3 am to finish reading a book because I simply couldn't bear to leave it halfway through. I remember the half angry half indulgent scolding I got from my warden for being up so early in the morning and not taking care of my health.

I remember the time I started to buy books on my own. The many book fairs I went to, the joy of rifling through the mountains of books and getting my hands on that one book that had been eluding me for months. The bargaining at second hand book stores. The library used book sales. The fighting for space in front of an aisle full of books I was sure was hiding a treasure beneath it. The joy at finding the perfectly preserved copy of a book I thought I'd never get to own. The joy of building my own library. The joy of writing my name on a newly acquired book- the stamp of ownership.

I remember the joy of many a day and night spent in the company of a good book. I remember the thoughts that these books put in my head. I remember the discussions about what I had read with my Dad. I remember the arguments and the differences of opinion. I remember gifting him books and him beaming with joy at my perfect selections. I remember reading to my sister on some nights. I remember many vacations spent in the company of a bunch of great books. I remember the bookshops and bookshop assistants, the roadside second hand booksellers.

But more than anything I remember the absolute of joy of opening a book to its first page, the anticipation of beginning yet another journey through space, through time, through people, through thoughts,I remember the exhilaration of finishing a book and tucking it safely back into its spot in the bookshelf, looking at it somedays and feeling happy I bought it. And on someday, down the lane picking it up again and experiencing the magic of reading it- curled up on a couch, with a cup of coffee and some faint strands of Tchaikovsky to keep me company.

No sir, an Ipad will never make up for a book. Not for me.

Image Courtesy: S and his D90 again. Clicked while I was reading this book called "The Journal Keeper" by Phyllis Theroux. It was one of the most beautiful books I had ever read. Hunting for it now. :P

As the rain sings me a lullaby...

2011-08-04T20:57:00.003+08:00

Its been a dark, cloudy, overcast and rainy day here today. It was raining all through the night and then morning dawned and as I looked out of my bedroom window, all I could see was grey- the buildings and trees and roads and the spires of the Chinese temple far away, all looked grey. But strangely, I felt happy. I love the rains. Rains bring to my mind millions of tiny yet vivid memories. Perhaps, it has something to do with the fact that I was born on the rainiest month of the year- the dreaded Karkitaka masam, as Mallu's call it. Perhaps, its because of the fact that the sound of incessant rains was what I heard non- stop for the first couple of months of my life. Perhaps, its just that I love the rains. Plain and simple.

And, the noisy pelting of the rain against the windows of my office today, takes me to places miles away- first to a small village near a tiny temple town called Vaikom. My mother's ancestral home. A huge house, shrouded in green, set in a couple of acres of land. The typical tharavaadu, complete with Sarpakaavu and kulam. Some of my best memories of monsoon stem from there. Monsoon, when I was a school kid and staying there with my grandparents, meant chilly mornings where you reluctantly dragged yourself out of the comfortable confines of your duvet at the stroke of 6, brushed your teeth and bathed in water so cold that even your bones would have frozen, rushing to down piping hot dosas and tea and grabbing your umbrella and rushing out to meet the school bus. It meant the visible relief on Grandpa's face thanking all his Gods that the monsoon's were finally here and the paddy would do just fine (this was when we owned paddy fields. Grandpa sold them off some years back when he was too tired and old to take care of them). It also heralded the beginning of the Ramayana maasam- the auspicious month when the Ramayana would be read in all homes at dusk (for us kids it meant a month of pure vegeterian food). It was like a cleansing ritual- both physical and spiritual. I can close my eyes and still hear the rise and fall of Grandpa's booming voice- the many highs and lows his voice would caress, as he read through the pages patienty, and with such devotion ,that everyone around him would be forced to listen in rapt attention.

Another small village that holds memories of monsoons is a tiny hamlet near Aroor - the place, that my Dad calls home. His ancestral home is over 250 years old. So much of work has been done on the house since my grandmother was born and although today the home is a melange of the old and the new, the house for me signifies the old- the timber walls and the machu (attic) and the wooden stairs that lead upto it, the ara and nilavara and the doors with the manichitrathaazhu that lead into those rooms, everything holds stories of the centuries gone by. This house also holds a lot of my memories. Drinking tea and snacking on vada while trying to catch the drops of water that fell off the roof tiles, jumping in puddles and getting chased around the house by grandma, learning to fish with the guys around and our man Friday, Vavachan. And the monsoon night I spent carrying baby tortoises from our doorstep to the pond nearby. Some eggs had hatched and the poor babies had clambered up and made their way all the way to our home. And they refused to get back into the water. I remember the frenzy our dog Tiger was in on seeing these weird creatures that hid the minute he started barking.

Monsoons at school, meant far too many people huddled under a single umbrella, squealing and giggling and holding on to each other for dear life, trying not to get wet and in the end the inside of the umbrella being the only part not getting totally drenched. It meant praying for just an hour of sunshine during PE classes so you could go out and play. It meant, the stray frog that was brave enough to venture into a class of 40 something noisy, naughty kids. It meant trying hard not to fall asleep in the afternoon hours, as teachers droned on and on about World Wars and Geometric Theorems, themselves tryin to stifle yawns. It meant trying hard to catch a cold so you could bunk class for a single day. It meant the long journey back home in the school bus with the rain somehow getting through the canvas shutters and drenching you from head to toe. It meant dreading Fridays when however hard you tried to keep your white uniform pristine, you always ended up with splotches of mud all over it. It also meant being able to jump in puddles and play in mud over the weekend when the elders were busy elsewhere.

During my degree days, monsoons took on a whole new tinge. It took the form of bunked classes,long chats about everything under the sun over piping hot tea and samosas and vada in the college canteen. It also reminds me of long walks braving the rain to and from the bus stop, getting into already overcrowded buses and trying to squeeze yourself into any space available, of books read in the comfort of the huge cane chair by the window in my room, of frequent trips to the Ernakulam Public Library with a couple of friends to restock on books, of a handful of movies watched with D who would dutifully doze off the moment the movie began and digging into hot pazham pori made by Mom after college hours on wet, rainy evenings.

The monsoons of my MBA days take me to a magical, ethereal almost divinely beautiful place called Planet Etti. Monsoons then meant waking up to the sight of the blue mists rollicking over the mighy Elephant Hills, wanting to sleep curled up under your duvet but knowing you can't because you had a train of classes and assignments waiting for you. Of brushing you teeth in water so cold you would start slurring like a drunkard within seconds, of braving the wind and rains lashing against your face to get to class, of your futile attempts to keep yourself dry, but your umbrella not holding a chance against the fury of the winds, of sitting in class and shivering and clamping your jaw so tight to not let others hear the chattering of your teeth, of running to the canteen and coaxing the guys to get you also a hot cuppa so you could sit and dry off and not stand in queue, of messaging your friends in class saying, "I'm freezing and sleepy" and having them respond likewise, of movie nights at Fashionista's room with chips and chocolates and warm duvets and comfy cushions.

Ahh.. the memories are too many. Monsoons here are not so much fun at all. Sitting in the temperature controlled office, going home in perfectly comfortable buses, getting down at the interchange and switching buses, getting down at your bus stop and walking under the walkway all the way to your apartment. And all this while, not getting wet even once- nary a drop falls on you. Not even a book or a cuppa my favourite blend from Starbucks is enough to cheer me up. Gimme the muddy streets and Rs.2 chai from the college canteen any day. I'll take that. Yessir!! I will.

Oh ye monsoon god's in India, I miss you!! And the million memories you bring.. Take me home.. :(

PS: Picture courtesy- S and his Nikon D-90. :) Thats the few minutes right before the monsoon breaks- the lashing wind and choppy waters and the swaying palms.

Cold Vibes ;)

2011-08-03T21:17:00.001+08:00

Hola peeps!! Sorry for the unexplained and abrupt absence over the past few days. I have been down with a very bad cold that refused to succumb to a course of antibiotics, which meant that I had to go to the doctor again, only to be put on another course of stronger antibiotics. :( The positive thing being that, am back to being normal and not looking like something the cat dragged in. The downside being that, I have been soo drowsy that I have not been in the frame of mind to string even a couple of coherent sentences together.

Anyways, the past few days haven't been easy on S. I am not a happy camper when I'm sick and he has been at the receiving end of my tantrums and whining. But he has been a good sport as always, and has uncomplainingly put up with all my silly demands. And now that I'm back to normal, I'm back to irritating him in my usual ways.. ;) heh..

Over the past few days the only things I have been doing are watching videos on youtube and reading through umpteen blogs. The quality of some of these blogs have amazed me- both the writing and the visual appeal. So now I'm on the hunt for a new template for my blog and doing some cleaning up.(I know I have to work on my writing skills too but a drastic improvement is impossible in a short period of time, right?) My current template makes the screen look too cluttered and untidy. And now I'm looking for something much simpler and cleaner. I'm hoping I find a good one soon eough. So you guys are in for a new and improved version of me blog soon. :)

Anyways I'm still too drowsy and sleepy to write anything more. I'll be back with better stuff for you guys soon. I promise!!

Until later!! Love you guys!!

Changes??

2011-07-31T20:57:00.000+08:00

Since achieving the milestone 100 posts, I have been wondering what next? There are a lot of things I have been wanting to do, some changes I have been wanting to make to the blog and my style of writing and frequency of blogging etc. And after some thought, I have come up with a few ideas. I have been clicking a few pictures recently. More so after getting married to S. Him being a avid photographer, some of his interest and enthusiasm has rubbed off on me too. So, I will be posting like a picture a week or a picture every two weeks or something like that. Lets see.

I have also decided to blog more about my favorite hobby- yes, books!! I have not exactly been on a reading spree but hey, I can blog about the books I have already read or the books that have influenced me in some way and the like. I do not promise like a book review a week or something like that. I don't exactly have that much time on my hands to devote so much time to reading but, I promise I will try to read and review as frequently as possible.

I also write a bit of fiction sometimes. :P heh.. Its not exactly high quality, amazing stuff but its an attempt at producing something that is not silly and frivolous. So I might, just might, put up a few excerpts from what I have written till date.

So there, these are some of the things I aspire to do over the coming weeks and months and hopefully you guys will all love it and read it and comment on it and encourage me with as much enthusiasm as you have till date.

So, until tomorrow, this is Pooh signing off. Its time for me to go and have some hot piping rasam to try and get rid of this evil cold. *cough cough*

A Ton!!!!

2011-07-30T00:03:00.001+08:00

Aaaannnnddddd (cue for drumroll) this is my 100th post!!! I can’t believe I’ve achieved this landmark although it took me quite a while to get here. I had started this blog with high hopes and yet, somehow in between, I lost focus and neglected my blog for a long time. I tried to blame it on a lack of life and a lack of creativity and inspiration and all. But then, I realized that unless I buckled up and started writing, my blog would slowly but surely die. So these days, in the midst of much craziness, I somehow, manage to write. And it makes me happy. To know that I’m putting something out on this space that’s all mine, that I can come back and read later and that is a snapshot of my life, makes me feel good.

So pop the bubbly, burst some crackers and lets celebrate!!! :) I hope the journey from here on is much faster and swifter than the one till here. I hope I have all the guys who read this space with me in the journey forward too. I hope for more comments and feedback and I hope I am able to put out much better content over the days for you guys to read. Love you all!!! Stick around!! :)

PS: I see an increasing number of visitors on my site meter but very few comments. If you are one of those people who read but don’t comment, please drop in a hi! I would love to hear what you think!! :)

Lucky Me??

2011-07-29T21:56:00.001+08:00

The other day, one of my seniors from my MBA days and a blogger herself, mailed me and told me that she's been reading through my blog, and found my writing pretty good, and that made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside, and had me grinning like an idiot from ear to ear for a while. It was the highlight of an otherwise awful day that saw me really really sick- all thanks to an awful throat infection that had me sounding like the progeny of a broken tape recorder and a banshee. Anyways, I digress. Towards the end of her mail, she mentioned something about how it was great that I managed to blog so frequently while managing work and home, and that got me thinking. How do I manage it? If you ask me, I honestly have no clue. I am not a creature of routine.I am not the kind of person who is up with the first tiny ray of sunshine and from then on proceeds to run her day like a well oiled machine. Nosiree. I'm a lazy bum, who has to be practically kicked out of bed everyday, by my darling husband (him being a sweetheart, he gently nudges me awake). And if you have been reading this blog frequently, you will also know that I'm not the kind of wife who wakes her husband up with a hot cuppa tea and cooks him his favourite breakfast and all. Nopes. That’s not me.

And although I try my hardest to stick to a routine, I miserably fail everyday. Yes, I do go to work, and have three meals a day and cook and keep my house clean and all but, I have no fixed time for anything. And yes, my husband does help me a lot with things- like not insisting on a home cooked breakfast and doing the dishes and making sure I eat properly and all that. And I have many people telling me how lucky I am to have a husband who lends a hand in the running of the house-sometimes even making breakfast for the both of us. Although I acknowledge these statements with a smile and a sage nod, I often think why it is that a woman who has a husband who helps out with the housework is told that she is lucky, while a man whose spouse also does the same, is not given any such distinction. In fact, it is more or less expected of her.

Ok, I'm not out to make any feminist statements and trigger a deluge of mails from silly stupid trolls who exist for the sole purpose of rubbing people the wrong way (how delusional can one get eh? As if I have that many readers, Ha!). I just want to say what I feel about the whole thing. Am I happy that S helps out with things? Yes. Do I think that he could do more? Yes, I do. Not that he wouldn't, if I asked him to. Sometimes my “superwoman/ cleanliness freak” persona interferes with my common-sense and I end up doing everything on my own, and crawl into bed at night huffing and puffing after a long day of toiling. Yes, on most days and weekends I do the cooking, the cleaning, the washing, the lying the clothes out on the clothesline, folding them and putting them in their respective places, and some of the ironing too. Now, one of the reasons I don't ask S to do the sweeping and stuff, is because he had a slipped disc last year and he's still just recovering from it, and the doctor has given him a whole set of instructions that prevent him from doing pretty much a whole horde of things, like standing for too long, lifting even the smallest amount of weight or sleeping in certain positions.

But, I do wish he did some more things around the house- like not litter the floor with his shoes and clothes and stuff (he's improving), learn how to use the washing machine (yes, yes, he can use a Mac and a DSLR but the sight of a washing machine and he quakes in his boots), like learn how to fold clothes the way I like them folded, You know, small things that make a difference. After all, we both go to work and bring the food to the table, we are both out for the same amount of time everyday, we are both tired by the time we get home and we both get only one weekend to chill out. I agree that S is far better than some of the other guys I know. And, I know that he will gladly do his half of everything, if I ask him to or once his back gets better, but I wonder, how many women are out there who are forced to make a living and also take care of her home and her husband and children.

I wonder why even today a woman's worth is judged by the roundness of her rotis and not her accomplishments in the workplace (FYI I have never, till date, been able to make a round roti). A woman who sleeps late on the weekend is lazy, a man is simply tired after all the work his does. A woman who comes late from work is faced with a jury who gives her an agnipareeksha, a man simply had a lot of work and that is explanation enough. A woman who doesn't stay home to take care of her children is an ambitious heartless bitch, whereas spending time with his kids is never expected of a man. I have even read about some companies in London firing their employees because they got pregnant! What kind of a world is this?

Me, and most of the people I know, have understanding spouses who believe in gender equality and helping out and all. I also know many women who are as educated as me who do not have this kind of a "luxury". I know women who travel great distances everyday, work harder than their husbands, and yet have to come home and cook and clean and do everything else that is expected of them, I know talented women who have been forbidden from working because her husband is earning enough for the both of them. No thought is spared for her wishes. I know women who have been forced to quit once a child is born 'cos, of course she has to be home to take care of the kid. Nary a thought is spared for her ambitions. I could go on and cite a hundred examples and stories here but, I don't think that is needed. I'm sure every one of us will know someone, who is going through, or has gone through such treatment, at some point in their life.

You might all be wondering what this rant is leading up to. The point being, I make time for the things I like and the things I want to do, I plan my life and my future and I have the freedom of doing all this not because I think its a privilege that has been bestowed on me by my husband, but because I'm as much of an individual as he is and I have every right to live my life the way I want to. And no, I don't think I'm lucky because my husband "lets me" do all this. I think it is as much my right as it is his to decide how to live my life. And that doesn't mean I don't respect him or love him. I do. It's just that slavery is not my definition of respect.

What do you guys think?

PS: If I sound like I'm going off on a tangent in some places, please forgive me. Its the stupid antibiotics that I'm on. They make me drooowwwwssssyyyyy... zzzzzzzz...

25 random things about me.. :P

2011-07-28T19:16:00.001+08:00

Today, is one of those days, when my creative juices just refuse to flow and I know that even if I try my damnedest, I’ll never be able to string a couple of coherent sentences together. So, today, yet again I’m gonna resort to the saviour of all frazzled bloggers- a tag. ;) So, this blog is all about me but, how much of me do you guys know?? ;) Here’s 25 random facts about me you guys didn’t know (if you already did, its still fine- it means you’ve been reading very carefully or you know me real well ;)).

1. Black is my absolute favourite colour in the world. More than half my wardrobe used to be black. Its only now that I have started experimenting with other colours.

2. I love books. I have a personal library back home which has around a 1000 books and one here which has around 200. Oh and I can’t go to sleep unless I read at least 2 pages of a book. :)

3. I need everything around me well organized. I’m a little OCD like Monica from F.R.I.E.N.D.S. I even need my remote controls arranged in order. And even my mess is organized. Oh and my OCD is sometimes not even restricted to my own house. :P

4. I’m a pretty good cook. I can make a mean spaghetti and I make awesome chicken curry. ;) And I started cooking only after I got married.

5. I like black and white pictures more than colour ones. I don’t know why, but I somehow always feel that black and white pictures have more character than colour ones.

6. I remember surprisingly little about my wedding day. It was all very rushed and very short and unlike people who claim their wedding day was the most special day of their lives, I was glad to get it over with.

7. I love cleaning and keeping things in order. When I’m nervous I clean. :P

8. I love my family and my hubby. I’d go to any lengths to keep them happy and safe.

9. I buy a lot of junk jewellery but hardly wear any. Oh and I hate gold and diamonds and any other kind of expensive jewellery. I rarely wear my thaali even. ;)

10. I believe in God but not in going to temples and fasting and the whole works. My prayer is more like a conversation with a friend. I don’t know many of the slokas and mantras and stuff that you are supposed to know.

11. I don’t much like watching Malayalam movies. :P Its not because I don’t like my mother tongue or anything but too much of emotional melodrama gets on my nerves.

12. I don’t like growing my hair. The shorter my hair the better. :P I have shoulder length hair these days just so I can keep my Mom happy.

13. I love beaches. There’s nothing like the vast expanse of the sea to make me feel peaceful and calm.

14. I believe “Wuthering Heights” is the best love story ever.

15. I know exactly how I want my future home to look like. I know how many rooms I want, what colour the walls will be and even what colour curtains I’ll have.

16. I cannot stand people who think women are second best. I also cannot stand people who think their opinion is always right and shoot down everything everyone else says. I also don’t like people who go against what everyone else says/ thinks just for the sake of it.

17. I want to go skydiving and bungee jumping- that’s definitely two of the things I want to do before I die.

18. I have this fear of cockroaches (Katsaridaphobia). I get a panic attack when I see one.

19. I can only sleep on the left side of the bed. And I can sleep only on my left side.

20. I think I write better than I speak. Till date, I express myself better when I write things down.

21. I make lists for everything. :P And once I do something, I cross it off. Makes me feel good.

22. I am a chocolate addict and hate sharing it with anyone. If I share my chocolate with you, that means you are way too special a person for me.

23. I am in awe of people who are good at Math, like my sister. She kicks ass at Math whereas the mention of calculus is enough to give me nightmares for weeks.

24. I iron the bedspreads and pillowcases after I wash them. :P

25. I cannot sleep on crumpled sheets. I will get up and tuck the sheet in properly. If there’s one single wrinkle anywhere I’ll keep obsessing about it and not sleep.

Well there you have it. Random stuff you might, or might not have known. :P Until tomorrow when I come back with a better post, you guys take care and stick around ok? :)

F.R.I.E.N.D.S. ;)

2011-07-27T19:32:00.001+08:00

You know, there was a time in my life when I thought people didn’t change. How naive was I right? Just a couple of years in the real world has taught me otherwise. Oh, I’m not disillusioned or anything. I just know now for a fact that however much you expect people to remain the same, it just doesn’t happen. It could maybe have a lot to do with your circumstances or those of the person at the other end. It could also have to do with people’s attitudes and interests changing over time and a myriad of other reasons. I honestly don’t mind the change. I mean, I know I’m not the same person today as I was in school or college or even 2 years back. Hell I was a different person last year. But whatever changes I have a few basic tenets that I always follow, a few relationships that I treasure and a few people whom I simply can’t do without.

My beef is only with people who can accept only people who are exactly like them. You know, the kind of people who are only friends with people who share the same interests and ideas and ideals about life, who like to do the same things as them, who like to watch the same kind of movies etc. I mean, what happened to variety being the spice of life and all that? Can you imagine the world only having one kind of people? Or all human beings having the same face? Or eating the same food everyday? Yuck!! How dull and boring.

I have this gang of friends from my MBA days. We are all in different parts of the world now. We are all busy with our lives, our careers, our spouses and our families. But not a day goes by when we don’t talk to each other or talk about what someone in the gang is up to or just talk about anything and everything under the sun. And we are a group of such diverse people with interests so different that sometimes its hard to believe we’ve been together for so long. :)

There’s me who’s the mostly introverted sometimes extroverted, definitely not the life of the party but more like the mother hen type. I would always talk and laugh and have fun and everything with the gang but I would never say I was the one who kept the party going. Nope. That was Fashionista! She was and still is the life of any party you can come up with. Having a lil baby (who is cuter than a button) has not managed to slow her down at all. I remember during our MBA days her room was the party zone- good music, always well stocked with food, great bunch of movies and lots of little cushions and stuff to just put on the floor and just chill out. She’s also the queen of wit and sarcasm. ;)

Then there was Dee who was the naive little girl who came into her element towards the second year and boy did she blossom into a princess after that! She’s like this perfect blend of tradition and modernity. She is one of these few people who can talk non stop about anything under the sun. And if you think she’s just a pretty face, think again. She has some sharp little grey cells up there buddy and she’s as mean as a machine when exams are round the corner. Oh and she’s messy.. ;)At least she used to be.. ;)

There’s Hazel then. She was the philosopher who would rather have a discussion on issues like life and death with the Dalai Lama than go out and party. ;) She was more of an introvert. A person who most often lived on a totally different plane than the rest of us. She’s also one of the most artistic people I ever met. And she has a soul that’s as beautiful as her eyes.

There was Mommy who was just that, a Mommy when she joined for her MBA. She was the focussed, hardworking, efficient machine. She was out to prove that she was capable of a lot of things and she was. She was very introverted with very string opinions on everything under the sun. And even when she talked she talked more about general stuff than about herself.

And then there was SH- the only guy in our group. Smart, focussed, intelligent, spiritual and a perfect gentleman. And we all were friends. We still are the best of friends. We all have something in common with someone else. But I doubt if there’s anything that’s common among all of us. No sir. There’s nothing that we all share. Me and Fashionista love shopping and god food and some partying and the works. I also share a love of books with Hazel. And the list can go on. My point is, in spite of being so very different from each other, we have shared a friendship that has been going strong for 5 years. Sure, we have had our share of fights and falling outs and misunderstandings but we always pulled through. Because we knew we had a special bond. We knew it was not our similarities that made us unique, it was our differences and that in spite of being so different, and coming from so many diverse homes and backgrounds we totally understood each other.

I can’t imagine how our lives would have been if we had never taken the trouble to understand the others, if we had just decided that we wanted to be only with people who were like us and sorry anything different was not acceptable. I’m glad we all became friends and in spite of all our differences remain so. I might not agree with some of the stuff that they do. They might think that I have changed and I’m not the same person, or disagree with my beliefs. But I know that in times of crisis they’ll always be around to get my back. And I’ll be around for them. And even in the group although I’m closer to Fashionista, SH and Dee than the other two and I think I gel the best with Fashionista, it doesn’t make me like the others any less. Or make me ignore them. I still like them and love them and respect their choices and ideas and the lives they have made for themselves. And I truly believe if we were all as similar as peas in a pod, we wouldn’t have had as much fun as we have over the past 5 years.

I love all you guys. And I hope that this bond that we share only gets stronger over time. Mwaaahh… :)

On The Weekend :)

2011-07-26T20:26:00.001+08:00

So this past Sunday saw the end of my "birthday week" celebrations as S called it. The week was fun. And the weekend more so. Friday night saw us heading to watch "Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara", which I agreed to watch just because I wanted to go sit and ogle at Hrithink Roshan, but the movie turned out to be quite nice. Hrithik of course, stole the show for me. Farhan was good, except for the parts where he read out all that poetry penned by Daddy dearest. Ugh! Seriously, that dude's voice isn't suited for that kind of awesome poetry. Kalki was perfect as the annoying fiancée and Katrina has finally managed to bring a little more than a perpetually constipated look on her face. Abhay needs to get someone to dub for him. His voice was grating. But overall liked the movie. The locale was amazing and I have been having visions of this month long road trip through Spain. Sigh! Oh! And the songs in the movie were awesome. Its after quite a long gap that I have gotten to listen to some songs that are catchy and soo hummable(?).

Saturday was spent at the library book fair here. I went wild and bought like 30 new books. :) I know!! Crazy, right? But they are all like must haves- all authors like Doris Lessing, Kafka, Jorge Luis Borges, Camus etc. Come to think of it, I also picked up quite a few titles by Russian authors like Dostoevsky, Chekov etc. I can't seem to remember the names of all the books I bought or the authors. :P There are too many!! But I was happy with my heist. I also bought a few cookbooks which means S will be the unfortunate subject of a few of my culinary experiments. Hehehehehehe.. *evil laugh* And although me and S had planned to come back home in time for lunch we were invariably late thanks to my prolonged browsing and S going to check out some IT show that was happening close by. S,o we decided to have lunch at this Thai place called Lerk Thai. Me and S both love the food there. Especially S, who always orders the olive fried rice there. Its yummy.

So this time around we decided to try something different, Or at least I decided to. S stuck to his olive fried rice but also ordered some Thai spring rolls which I couldn't have more than a single bite of 'cos it was so stuffed with coriander leaves that I had to down a bottle of mouthwash to get rid of the taste. Yuck! I ordered plain rice and Thai Red Curry. And as we were about to wrap up with our ordering we chanced upon this awesome dish in the seafood section. Sea bass deep fried in oil with lots of black pepper and raw pepper and garnished with sautéed onions and bell peppers. It was divine to say the least. When we first saw the size of the fish, we were scared and thought we would have to pack up a lot and take it home, but it tasted soo good that we polished it off pretty soon and almost ended up fighting for the last piece, :P

Yup, that’s the sea bass!! (Image courtesy: Lerk Thai website)

Saturday night we headed to a friend's place for dinner which was classic Kerala fare- kappa and meen curry. Oh I ate so much I almost had to be carried home by S. And although I had plans to sit and read a book and all after I got home, all that good food had made me soo full and soo sleepy that I only remember coming home and changing. I think I started snoring in the middle of saying good night to S. Sunday was a quiet day at home where I finished up all the cooking for the week and the ironing and all. And started reading a book that I had bought a few weeks back called, "I Am a Cat" by this Japanese author, Soseki Natsumi. I have been through only a few chapters but from what I have read so far, I can say this book is going to be one awesome read. It seems like a light read on the surface but has very deep connotations once you really think about it.

Since I love to read and S loves to watch movies our free time routine means that I will be curled up on my side of the bed reading and S will be curled up on his side of the bed with his laptop and earphones watching some movie. But, it had become so much of a routine for us that after some reading on my part, we decided to do something together. So we curled up together and watched a movie we both liked. And it was so much fun!! We made fun of each other and giggled a lot and sipped some hot tea and also talked a lot throughout the movie. It was wonderful to have that little slice of time to just ourselves without any distractions or interference from work or anything else. It also made me realize that you don't really need to go out and party or do some such stuff to feel happy and have fun. This tiny little act of just watching a movie, that we both had watched before, was more than enough for both of us to just really relax and feel happy and more connected on some level. We plan to do it more often. ;)

Oh and before I forget, on Friday I got back home to find this awesome surprise waiting for me in the form of a brand new 13- inch MacBook Pro. All planned and well executed by S. That man sets the bar high every year I tell you. :) Although this might be the last year we will be spending so much on lavish presents and stuff, am sure next year also he'll find some way to make my day special. And I can't believe how discreet he was about the whole thing. I didn't have any clue this was going to happen. Ain't he a treasure?? :) Oh yeah! Am keeping him for life ;)

So that was my weekend. How was yours??

I’m a Foodie?!

2011-07-24T18:15:00.003+08:00

So the other day, I was bloghopping as usual and I stumbled upon quite a few bloggers who had blogged about their 5 favourite food memories. That got me thinking about mine, and I was surprised to see that I had waay more than 5 or 10 even. I had almost 15. Oh, its not like I’m listing out every single food item I have ever tasted, but I truly do have so many wonderful memories associated with food. Guess that makes me a foodie, although if you see me in real life you would hardly believe it. :P heh.. So, without further ado, let me list out, in no particular order, some of my favourite food memories- some made special simply because of the awesome food, some ‘cos of the people who made it and the people who kept me company and some because of the place and overall ambience.

1. Lobster at Phuket- One of the best seafood dishes I have ever had in my whole life. It was at one of these little restaurants you find along Patong beach at Phuket. You can actually choose which lobster you want and how you want it cooked and they will make it to your specifications. We had this awesome lobster slow cooked with loads of butter and pepper and garlic and other herbs and it was mouth watering. Added to the food was the ambience- alfresco dining, right by the beach, awesome music in the background, candlelight and wine and S. Perfect!!

2. Crayfish at Bintan- Bintan is where S took me for my birthday last year and although we spent just a day there it was perfect in every way. The blue waters, white sands, jet skiing and just lazing around on the beach. We had lunch at this little restaurant at the resort we went to and we ordered the specials that day which happened to be this crayfish dish. Drool!!!

3. Mom’s sambar and idichakka thoran- There’s nothing like mom made food. And my mom’s masterpiece is her sambar couple with the yummy idichakka thoran she makes. Idichakka is tender jackfruit. Its a major hassle cleaning it and making the thoran but it is divine to say the least. I can eat heaps and heaps of rice if mom makes these dishes.

4. Grandma's rasam and sardine fry- My Grandma was an awesome cook. She was not one to cook much, or to cook overly complicated dishes, but the very simple stuff she used to make was way better than anything any Michelin starred chef would ever be able to whip up. My favourite of all the dishes she used to make was her rasam and sardine fry combo. Her rasam used to be so spicy and she would use loads of garlic, just the way I liked it. And the sardines used to be marinated with a paste of shallots, chilly powder, a pinch of turmeric, lots of black pepper and salt. My favourite memory is of gorging on hot rice, rasam and sizzling sardine fry on cold monsoon nights. And this memory is all the more special ‘cos my Grandma is no more and even though I have made these dishes numerous times, I have never been able to achieve the same taste. :(

5. Grandpa’s palada payasam- No one makes better payasam than my Grandpa. Come Onam or Vishu or someone’s birthday or any other special occasion in our family, my Grandpa would be the designated payasam maker. And he would start his payasam making right in the morning. He would make his payasam on the traditional aduppu in his special uruli. All the ingredients would be sourced fresh from some of his trusted shops. And the end result would be this thick, sweet payasam. We would try and eat less during the main sadya so we had more space in our tummies for his payasam. :)

6. Chocolate cake at Barista- Specifically Barista, Coimbatore. Made special by the gang that used to frequent the place on weekends. Me, Fashionista, SH, Dee, Mommy and Hazel. MBA days used to be this non stop saga of classes and assignments and projects and presentations and exams and even more classes. A weekend outing was a rare thing, and when we got one, we used to enjoy every minute of it. And during every single outing after lunch we used to hit Barista and along with coffee or whatever else,we used to order this cake. I remember it used to be Fashionista’s favourite. It was this huge piece of chocolate cake with yummy chocolate icing and covered with thick, hot gooey, molten chocolate. I haven’t found a replacement for that cake as yet.

7. Aloo Paratha at the hole in the wall place near Coimbatore Railway Station- Truly a hole in the wall. Its like the kind of place you would avoid like the plague, especially a cleanliness freak like me. But the parathas there we so yummy. Nothing like hot parathas topped with fresh butter dipped in thick curd. I have had parathas at many places after that, but nothing has ever compared to the taste of the parathas there.

8. Lunch at the Chinese Place at RS Puram, Coimbatore- Don’t remember the name of the place, but it used to be one of places where I have had the most awesome, spicy, greasy Indian Chinese food. Again made special by the gang that used to be with me then. Still remember trying to smuggle in leftovers into the hostel and sitting down in the evening to split the bill among all of us and all.

9. Trivandrum Chicken Corner- I was introduced to this place after I got married to S. Till then I didn’t know that this place existed in Cochin. Its another hole in the wall place but their chapattis and chicken fry are to die for. I have never has such soft chapattis or such perfectly fried chicken anywhere else in my whole life. Its always a staple order whenever someone is coming from home. :)

10. Quail fry from the thattukada at Ernakulam South- Thattukada food is always yummy. I don’t know how they manage it, but the food these tastes and even smells wonderful. I again, used to have issues with the food there ‘cos of the cleanliness aspect but once S introduced me to this delicacy, I was hooked. Oh, and the food at this thattukada is so famous, that it was even featured on Anthony Bourdain’s No Reservations. :)

11. S’s chicken fry- S makes this this wonderful chicken fry. He refuses to tell me what all he puts in the marinade. :P And he insists in doing everything himself when he’s making it- right from cutting and cleaning the chicken to frying it. The end result is mouth watering chicken fry that I can eat non- stop.

12. The rasam my darling sis made one time I went home from Singapore- It wasn’t the best rasam I ever had, but the fact that a girl who hates cooking with a vengeance, got into the kitchen, and made the dish from scratch, so that her sister could have it for dinner the day she landed, more than made up for any shortcomings the dish had. And it didn’t have many.. :)

13. The meals at BTH and Woodlands- Since the rest of my family are pure vegetarians, BTH and Woodlands are two restaurants in Cochin we frequent. There’s nothing like the normal meals there to fill you up when you are really hungry.

14. Mom’s Gulab Jamun- My Mom makes the best gulab jamun in the world. Many a Sunday afternoon during my childhood was spent gorging on hot jamuns in cold sugar syrup. Mmmmm.. Divine!!

15. Murugan’s Idli- I discovered this while I was working in Chennai and was really happy to find their outlet here in Singapore. They make the world’s softest, bestest idlis. Its one place me and S frequent especially after our Saturday morning grocery shopping. :)

So there, these are my top 15 favourite food memories in no particular order. I would love to write more but all this writing about food has made me hungry. :P So lemme go and grab a bite while you guys read and drool. ;) Until next time.. :)

26!!

2011-07-21T23:58:00.001+08:00

Hola peeps! Just a reminder to you guys that I’m alive and kicking and that work and housework type things keep interfering with my blogging. I feel ashamed saying this ‘cos I know far busier people who update their blogs every single day. I always try to be superwoman and accomplish everything. But by the time I finish everything else on my list I’m so tired and my brain will have flat lined so completely that even though I dredge the depths of my brain for something, nothing comes forth.

Anyways this pat week has been crazy with me celebrating my birthday and all that. :) Oh it was such fun!! The weekend before my birthday S took me to this great Persian place here. They had the most awesome food and the ambience was perfect. The restaurant also has a couple of belly dancers who entertain at regular intervals. S had a jolly good time because of that. ;) One girl was so good that I could literally see S’s jaw hitting the floor.. ;)

Birthday eve saw the usual cake cutting. S got me this awesome chocolate cake. The icing was divine and the cake was “melt in the mouth” awesome. And the sweetheart that he is he got me this Borders gift card which means I can stock up my mini library further with some awesome titles. No bling bling for me. Nosiree. :) I knew there was a reason I married this guy.

And since this was one birthday after a while that I have been earning I did some much needed splurging on self. :) Result being one awesome dress from Mango, one tiny white dress and a bunch of tees from Stradivarius, couple of tops from Promod, one brand new bag from Charles and Keith, one pair of yummy flats from ALDO and one pair of black pumps. :) Nothing like some well earned retail therapy once in a while :)

S has also agreed to take me to this library used books sale that’s happening this weekend which means I get to buy more books and that too at dirt cheap rates. S, the sweet guy that he is also announced at the beginning of the week that my birthday celebration could go on throughout the week, which means I get to be pampered with chocolates and ice creams and watching my favourite movies and such. So tomorrow we are off to watch ZNMD. :) Hrithik Roshan, here I come!!! And then day after is the book fair and a get together at a friend’s place and hopefully Sunday will be spent quietly at home.

So overall a great week and a great weekend to come. :) Hopefully when I blog next time I will have something of consequence to relate to you guys. Until then, have fun and keep reading my inane ramblings. I promise you better fare soon.

Luv ya all!! Nitey nite for now. :)

Happy Birthday Sis :)

2011-07-19T21:29:00.001+08:00

So tomorrow is my sister’s birthday. Yeah we we born exactly 5 years apart. I still remember the day she was born. She came out bawling and yelling and screaming bloody murder at everyone around her. But she was the cutest, sweetest little thing. She was like a tiny little Snow White- complete with “hair as black as ebony, lips as red as blood and skin as white as snow”. She was the bestest gift I have gotten till date. But little was I to know back then that instead of growing up into a demure Snow White in real life, she would become Xena: Warrior Princess.

My sister, lets call her T, is a smart, independent, stubborn little firebrand. Right from when she was a kid she always wanted to be the centre of attention. She would yell and scream the whole time Mom was trying to feed her. She would yell if Mom stopped rocking the cradle during her naptimes. She would yell for every tiny little thing. But the sound of her laughter was the loveliest sound ever.

As she grew up she became more of a tyke. :) She was always up to some mischief and often got into trouble at school, usually for trying to help others. :) But even back then she loved me to bits. I remember the time she beat up a classmate of mine who said something to me screaming, “How dare you talk to my sister like that!”. She’s always helping other people often getting into trouble herself for the sake of someone else. And that selflessness continues to this day. She’s always been a tomboy and remains one to this day. Skinned knees and torn uniform shirts were the norm for her.

She’s also been careless like since forever. When she was a kid, it was usually lost pencils and pencil boxes and stuff but as she has grown older its moved on to damaged mobile phones and laptops and travelling ticketless on trains. :)

She also has this massive temper. And once she’s pissed off about something, there’s no stopping her. She often forgets who she’s talking to in her rage and has ended up saying real mean things to me and Mom many a time. But she makes up for all that by the small little things she does like tiny little surprise gifts and impromptu hugs and kisses (yeah T has an issue with outward displays of affection although she always has a stranglehold on me when we sleep).

She’s always been a rebel for as long as I can remember. She has this problem where she has to question everything that’s told her. And more often than not she has to rebel against all of that too. To this day she drives all of us crazy with her incessant questioning and going against everything that is the norm. She thinks she can singlehandedly save the world and although we often try to tell her she can’t she refuses to buy it. But I’m happy that she has this questioning spirit in her and she honestly believes she can make a change.

And she’s a geek. Oh yeah. She loves numbers more than words and rather than read a book she can sit and solve math problem after math problem. Although that has changed a lot now. After years of neglecting books she has recently fallen in love with them and can’t seem to get enough. I love that :). If only she had fallen in love a little earlier.

I could go on and on about her and even write a whole book about her detailing her little quirks and her tantrums but I won’t. :) I will never be able to do justice to the funny, loving, smart, beautiful, intelligent, crazy genius that she is. :)

Happy Birthday hun. I can’t believe its been 21 years since you made your grand entrance. Its been a crazy rollercoaster over the years. I treasure the fun, the craziness, the laughs, the tears, the fights and everything else that we have shared. Your bro sometimes tells me that you are my first kid and that I love you more than him. I think its true too. You are my very own piece of sunshine and I treasure you more than anything else.

Here’s to the number crunching, book loving, ever rebellious, selfless, musical, geeky little tyke. Love you to bits hun. Mwaaah :)

Speaking Damage..

2011-07-16T18:57:00.001+08:00

And I’m back… :) After almost a week of the gross neglect being meted out to this blog, I’m back to paying it, and all the people who read this, their rightful share of my attention. Ok, that sounded pompous even to me but, still I’m happy to be back to writing and hope to bore you all to the core with my inane ramblings in the days to come.

The past week was full of the usual except for a teeny tiny thing- I went shopping. Ok, I do that more than I need to but hey, yours truly has a birthday around the corner, and that gives me the right to splurge on myself. :) Nothing major though (although S will definitely disagree), just a few t- shirts and a couple of dresses and a new bag. All stuff I need, and since this is one birthday in a long time when I happen to be earning, I splurged a bit on myself. S says there’s nothing more in store for my big day and that I’ll not be allowed to shop for the rest of the year but I don’t mind.. Hehe.. :) It feels good to be able to spend money on myself for a change.

But he was really sweet yesterday and took me out for this awesome dinner last night. We went to this Persian place where I proceeded to stuff myself with some great food and take in some major belly dancing by this gorgeous chick whom S and pretty much every other guy in the place was drooling over and then headed back home- tired and sated. :)There was also this food festival happening there and the whole place was littered with tiny stalls selling all kinds of food, but nothing looked good enough to tempt us into trying it. It was an awesome way to start the weekend and I hoped it would get better. I was planning on a movie tonight and trying out a few new recipes I found in a new book.

But alas, my intuitions are never right. I woke up this morning with every muscle in my body groaning in protest and with my throat so sore I could hardly swallow. So S was left to do all the cooking and washing and cleaning while I curled up in bed after a dose of painkillers and proceeded to read. And that is all I did pretty much all of today. I just sat up and swallowed some hot tea hoping to get my throat to behave normally. My muscles are still grumbling and I feel really sick. I’m just hoping this doesn’t turn into a full fledged fever. I really don’t want to be sick on my birthday. Sigh!!

Anyways, I’m off now to do some more reading and hopefully, I will be back to normal by tomorrow. I promise to come up with more interesting stuff to write once my head starts to feel less woozy from all the painkillers and sanity returns. Till then, please be patient and put up with all my drivel. :)

I’ve gotten an award!!!

2011-07-06T22:28:00.001+08:00

Yaay. I’ve gotten an award. My very first one. This here blogger, who is an awesome writer and an adorable blogger herself, thinks am adorable!! :D Ok so allow me a moment to show you guys my surprised face- mouth a perfect O both hands on my face, wide smile and grab a tissue and dab daintily at the tears that threaten to slip outta them eyes and gently set my tiara straight and proceed to thank everyone from my kindergarten teacher to the neighbour’s dog. Oh who am I kidding!! Am so not that ladylike (read fake ;)). So I shall settle for ricocheting off the walls of the house and shaking S so hard screaming “I’ve gotten an award”, that his eyes almost roll back up into his head. I have a sneaky suspicion my neighbours heard my declaration of getting an award as “I’m going mad”. Hmmm.. I wouldn’t be surprised if they avoid stepping into the elevator with me from tomorrow. :P

In any case I’m over the moon. :D Only yesterday I was sighing and complaining to S after reading Susan Sontag’s diaries that I was never going to be a good writer. I mean the kind of stuff she wrote or rather scribbled in her diaries when she was just in her teens I can maybe aspire to write by the time I am 40. I was in awe of her writing and also feeling utterly dejected and demoralized that I didn’t even want to blog about anything yesterday. But this morning the first thing I saw on opening my mailbox was this notification of being awarded “The Adorable Blog” award by Indu. I was sooo happy I pinged S right away and told him. :) I never thought of awards and such like when I started this blog. And its not like I am a prolific writer. Unlike some writers who have a signature style and signature topics to blog about, my blog is exactly what the title suggests. Its a random mish mash of all the things in my life. There is no order, no signature style that I have and no specific cause as such that I blog more about. Anything around me is a topic for me.- from my obsession with shoes to my love for books to my friends. So I’m really and truly surprised that there are people out there who think I am worthy of such an honour. It makes me want to torture you guys some more with my writing.. ;) tee hee..

So thanks a ton dear Indu for the honour. It makes me proud to be a compulsive scribbler. ;) And makes me want to write more. And all you guys do drop by Indu’s blog. She’s an awesome writer. Love the way she writes and love her even more for her profession of choice. Journalism was always my first love and if it weren’t for my mother and her hunger strike I would have been one today. Sigh!! Mothers and their way I tell you!! :) And Indu, you are a pretty adorable blogger yourself. :) Keep up the good work. Can’t wait to read more from you.. :)

And here is my award for you all to see. :) Look on while I go ricochet off the walls some more. :)