Ever since I heard the Ant and Grasshopper story when I was young, I have harboured a silent resentment towards ants, red ones in particular. The black ants are okay - I can tolerate them, in fact I enjoy watching them. But the red ones? They are the worst what with the added sting in their bites. Have you ever noticed the difference in behavior between the black and red ants? The red ants seem to be more studious, more committed and more boring while the black ones are interesting- they never look to be going in a single pile, all of them take initiatives and go off in different directions, and they even climb over humans to look for food. Their audacity, their quick movements and their adventurous spirit, and their "never hurt anyone" attitude endears them to me. But that's besides the point. Which is ants in general and the way they were compared to grasshoppers in the aforementioned story.
They (the elders!) shook their fingers in the kids' faces warning them - Do you want to be a grasshopper which died of starvation once winter came or do you want to be the ant which was wise enough to save for the rainy day? If my vocabulary and worldly knowledge was what it is today, I would have probably shown them the middle finger.
I could never understand why anyone would want to work and work and work and save and save and save for a winter that is a long time away?! Why not enjoy life now and then? We will worry about the winter when we come to it. So what if we die of starvation? At least we danced under the sun and sang to the wind.
So continuing from my previous post, I discovered few years ago that I can not be an ant however much I try. I would rather enjoy the now and then than work like crazy for a winter far away. I would rather be alone than have a queen ant presiding over me. I would rather break the line than follow some invisible scent and trodden path! I would rather be a grasshopper than an ant. So there!
PS: BTW, did you know that the average lifespan of a grasshopper is just 4-5 months in the summer? They can't live to see winter even if they want. So whoever wrote or came up with that story needs a lesson in biology!!
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Monday, March 23, 2009
Embrace Chaos; Forget "Work/Life Balance"
Don’t let the title throw you off. Notice the quotes enclosing the Work/Life Balance? Yes, its time we all forget about the traditional “Work/Life Balance” concepts that have been ingrained into our nervous systems. With Technology gaining more and more prominence in the way we lead our lives, it has become near impossible to keep personal and professional lives apart. At least that’s what this new Forrester article titled “Embracing Chaos Is Smarter Than Seeking An Elusive Work/Life Balance” says.
In essence, the article neatly talks about how “Work/Life balance” previously meant a clear time divide – the so called 9 – 5 work culture and after that personal time. But today this is not possible especially for information or knowledge workers. With work roles getting more demanding, hazier, and Technology populism (Google that!) playing havoc, employees can no more be strict about leaving office dot 5 or 6. They are ready to stretch when required and don’t hesitate to take off early on a lean day. They check office email while having dinner and make vacation arrangements while at office. The line between personal and professional work becomes less and less defined while at the same time employees ensure neither is compromised or affected by the other. Agreed. In fact, I loved reading that article. BUT sounds like utopia for me. That is from where I stand.
In essence, the article neatly talks about how “Work/Life balance” previously meant a clear time divide – the so called 9 – 5 work culture and after that personal time. But today this is not possible especially for information or knowledge workers. With work roles getting more demanding, hazier, and Technology populism (Google that!) playing havoc, employees can no more be strict about leaving office dot 5 or 6. They are ready to stretch when required and don’t hesitate to take off early on a lean day. They check office email while having dinner and make vacation arrangements while at office. The line between personal and professional work becomes less and less defined while at the same time employees ensure neither is compromised or affected by the other. Agreed. In fact, I loved reading that article. BUT sounds like utopia for me. That is from where I stand.
- Give me an office where entry and exit are not tracked by swipe cards
- Give me an office where every other site is not restricted and every move the employee makes on his or her computer is not monitored
- Give me an office where the manager is more concerned about quality of work and timely delivery and less about your presence in office
- Give me a cubicle where I’m allowed to keep my desk the way I want without maintaining a clean desk policy (not even papers allowed, mind you) and where I can listen to music if I feel like it (of course, with a head phone – But some managers have problems with that as well, let me tell you. Strange world, this one!)
- Give me an office where I can install instant messengers to chat with colleagues across the World without incurring additional costs for the company– and if that lets my friends see me while am online and ping me, let not the company go “uh uh”
- Give me an office culture where I can talk to my colleague who sits across from me with out the manager going “tch, tch”
- Give me an office where work output matters and not appearances
I will gladly sacrifice my 9 – 5 attitude. Else, tough luck dude. My 6’o clock cab is waiting for me and I don’t miss it for any reason.
But as I said, this is a strange world. Most of what I said above does not apply to counter parts who sit in the West (for who or on whom this article was written I guess). They are free to clutter their desk anyway which way they want and they are free to visit adult sites if they wish. And let’s not forget – they can talk about going to a Dentist’s appointment with their sons and daughters in an international conference call with ten participants from ten different time zones. And all this within the same company I say - so you can’t get away with saying different company, different policies. So this is only for the offshore – you see, we got to maintain appearances along with other important things.
I did experience utopia just once. Or maybe twice. At my first and second job. Small company, smaller team, bosses who trusted you to get the work done without the need to look over your shoulders. Less irritated managers. Compared to my experiences since then, I can only say I learnt and imbibed the concept of “Work/Life Balance” much later. Much much later.
Ha! memory sure does paint the past rose, doesn’t it?
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Terracota/Pottery
After Writing classes, my interests are now veering towards Terracota and Pottery. In particular, Terracota jewelery design and making. But sadly, I have not been able to find anyone in Bangalore who offers these classes. I haven't given up though - am still searching.
Meanwhile, here's an artisan at work with his pottery - pics I took at a recent visit to Janapada Loka in the outskirts of Bangalore on the way to Mysore. Supposedly, this old man gets Rs.12 per pottery piece he carves and paints and he will be able to make five such pieces every day- effectively getting an income of Rs.60 per day. Looking at the item he was working on, I figured it could easily sell for Rs.150 at an exhibition in Bangalore. But the amount that he gets in the supply chain is a mere pittance. Sad state, indeed.
Meanwhile, here's an artisan at work with his pottery - pics I took at a recent visit to Janapada Loka in the outskirts of Bangalore on the way to Mysore. Supposedly, this old man gets Rs.12 per pottery piece he carves and paints and he will be able to make five such pieces every day- effectively getting an income of Rs.60 per day. Looking at the item he was working on, I figured it could easily sell for Rs.150 at an exhibition in Bangalore. But the amount that he gets in the supply chain is a mere pittance. Sad state, indeed.
Hopeless
Mornings are always a rush. Shweta hurried out of the house after a quick kiss on her baby’s cheeks and a quicker goodbye to her husband. Life is always difficult for a working mom and Fridays especially so. Clutching the brown hand bag with her right hand, and desperately trying to hold the flying dupatta with the other, she jogged down the street to its corner, the designated spot for pick and drop. Her mind lingered on the strong cup of coffee her husband prepared for her every day and she wished she could have had more time to enjoy it. Spotting the cab hurling down at full speed a few hundred meters away, she broke into a run and muttered a silent thanks to the man who woke her up every day on time. Her alarm clock, her husband.
After the regular hellos and smiles at the few others already in the cab, Shweta moved to her usual seat just behind the driver. Heaving a sigh of relief, she settled in for the next two-hour odd journey to her office in Whitefield. Leaning back against the dusty headrest, Shweta closed her eyes looking forward to the rest of the journey. Today would be interesting, she thought. Wonder what they will discuss? Will they be romantic and mushy or will they have their occasional tiffs? She couldn’t wait.
To while away the time before the duo got in, she took a thin book from her bag and stared at the cover for a moment. It was called “The billionaire’s ransom bride” and had an illustrated cover portraying a passionate lip lock between the hero and his bride. Blushing a little at the way the hero’s hand seemed to be clutching the petite lady’s bottom, she turned to the page where she had stopped yesterday to continue reading her dose of mills and boon for the day. She had always been a hopeless romantic and couldn’t tire of these 180-page books even after her marriage. You would think that the real thing would prove more exciting but for Shweta these books had always been more interesting than her own love life!
The cab continued on the route weaving its way through thick traffic like a drunken man running through a crowd. It stopped briefly a few kilometers away and Shankar from the IT support got in. Shweta immediately flopped her bag on the empty seat next to her and pretended to be engrossed in the book. After hesitating for a second, the guy reluctantly moved away into the back of the cab – he always looked forward to sitting with the pretty lady in the front seat but somehow she never seemed to want to! After ensuring that the flirt from support had moved to the back, Shweta snapped her book shut and returned it to the bag. It will just be a few more minutes now before their pick up point arrived. Tiny butterflies started dancing in her stomach and she tried to contain her excitement.
The girl got in first. She was dressed in a beautiful sleeveless white and pink chudhidar and loud accessories to match. In her hand, she carried two bags – one a beige handbag which can only be designer and in the other a Dora embellished bag like the lunch bags kids carry to school. Such a contrast, thought Shweta smiling sillily at the girl. The girl seemed not to notice and took the seat in line with Shweta’s on the other side. They always sat at the same place everyday which is why Shweta also always sought out the seat in front. She wondered if they belonged to the same project. The cab turned down a few more roads to the next pick up point and seeing that there was no one waiting at the spot, the driver pressed his feet harder on the accelerator.
The girl squeaked “Anna, wait maadiii…. bartha idare” (Wait, please…he is coming)
The cab driver braked hard to stop and after a nasty glance at the girl started drilling his hands on the steering wheel impatiently. The clock seemed to tick loudly and everybody waited looking out the windows and door. Suddenly, the girl started smiling, and gesturing to some one in the street. Like the hero in a movie climax, Shashank Gowda ran full tilt and jumped into the cab.
Grinning widely, Shanshank took the seat opposite Shweta next to the girl in pink and white.
“Hi Shweta” he said turning sideways to look at Shweta “Thindi aytha?” (Had breakfast?)
“No, no time!” Shweta turned to smile at Shashank. “Yours?”
“Oh yes” replied Shashank moving back to lean in his seat.
With another silly smile, Shweta turned back to the front and closed her eyes, pretending to sleep for the rest of the journey. If her ears twitched a couple of times to hear better, the couple seated a few distance away seemed not to notice.
“Hello madam….” Shashank murmured in a near whisper “How are we today?”
“I thought you were not coming….. You gave me a scare, the driver almost didn’t stop, you know?” said the girl ignoring his question.
“Oh sorry. I will call you tomorrow if I get late, ok? Then you can tell the driver before hand” Shashank replied.
“Hmm” she said moving slightly to adjust her dupatta. Her bare arms brushed against Shashank’s and both of them fidgeted a little conscious of their proximity in the small space that was supposed to be a two-seater.
“So Div, what did you prepare today?” questioned Shashank.
Oh, her name is Divya, thought Shweta opening her eyes. She had forgotten! Nice name…. Shashank and Divya went well…. didn’t they? She wondered if Divya will take Shashank’s last name if they get married. Divya Gowda…. how does that sound? Hmm, not that great. Hearing them continue, she scolded herself mentally for not paying attention and closed her eyes again.
“Tomato rice” Divya replied, “Want to taste?”
“No, its okay. You won’t have any left for lunch if I open that box now” Shashank said shaking his head.
“Oh” Divya said disappointed. “I thought you liked Tomato…. that’s what you said yesterday!”
“Oh yes, I love them. Ok I changed my mind. Give me the box.” grinned Shashank.
The smell of fried onions, cooked and ripe tomatoes mixed with southern masalas assaulted Shweta’s nose within a few moments making her mouth water. Can Divya cook well? Would she have used the easy pressure cooker method to make the Tomato rice or would have painstakingly cooked the gravy and rice separately? Nah, it must be the former. No one would have the time to prepare the elaborate way in the mornings! And looking at the way the girl dressed up with matching earrings, bangles and even bindhi to boot, she must have surely done it the easy way. Lucky girl, no kid and husband to manage….
“How is it? Like it”? Divya questioned.
“This is delicious, you cook so well” murmured Shashank flatteringly relishing the huge mouthful he had stuffed his mouth with.
Guys can be so crude at times talking with mouth full and all that. How unsightly it must look to Divya thought Shweta. Jeez, hope she doesn’t mind crass guys otherwise Shashank will never stand a chance of hooking her!
“Thanks! Glad you like it” Divya said blushing a little, “I will prepare it in another way and get it tomorrow. It will taste really different but still nice… and it is much faster – I would just have to pressure cook the rice, tomato, and masalas together…”
“Wow, you seem like an expert cook. Even I love cooking….. Though my mom never allows me inside the kitchen. She says I make a mess” Shashank said spooning another mouthful of the delicious looking tomato rice.
“Listen…. maybe you know…. we should kind of meet up a weekend and you can teach me how to make this tomato rice….? I would love to learn…. this is so delicious… my mom can never make anything like this” continued Shashank closing the by-now empty box and handing it over to Divya.
Just then the cab driver took a steep right turn without a leg on the brakes. Sometimes, he thinks of himself as a race motorist. The cab driver. Cursing him mentally, Shweta tried to steady herself from going out the window.
Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Divya desperately trying to do the opposite clinging to the windows but momentum and gravity seemed to push her to lean hard against Shashank. Her right hand seemed to come up automatically and clutched Shashank and remained there just a bit longer than necessary long after the cab completed the turn.
Oooooh, God! Are they at the next stage already? thought Shweta trying to remember what that anthropologist Desmond Morris spoke of in his book “The Naked Ape” about the stages leading to copulation.
“Sure…..” Divya replied taking her box back from Shashank and keeping it in her lunch bag.
“Hey, new bag?” Shashank inspected the character printed on the bag “Who is this? New cartoon?”
“You don’t know? That’s Dora?” Divya proudly pronounced, “She is all the rage these days. Kids love her… and the monkey next to her is Boots”
“Wow, you seem to have learned all about them………… along with….”
Nice trick Shashank. But you need to be a little more subtle than that. I can spot your interest a mile away and Divya may find you too fast worried Shweta. She hoped not. Over the last few weeks, she had listened in on their conversations unashamedly and had come to look forward to the cab ride every morning. Her novel faded in comparison to the live love story that was developing in front of her eyes. And the desperate “happily ever after” seeker that she is, she imagined all their back and forths must be because of their interest in each other.
“Along with Kriya” continued Shashank “So how come you are carrying her lunch bag”
Hey, wait a sec. Who is this Kriya? Shweta had never heard that name mentioned before.
“Well, Kriya had to stay back at home today because she has a bad cold. My husband is looking after her…… so I took her bag! After all she takes my stuff all the time” answered Divya.
Shweta eyes popped open and she saw Shashank grinning down at Divya telling her something. They both laughed out loud. Shweta couldn’t believe her eyes or ears. She couldn’t believe her own stupidity. The loud honks from the traffic suddenly increased in volume and seemed to drown out every other noise. A bike screeched to a halt next to the cab that had just stopped for a red light. The pillion rider, a young girl, fell on the bike rider and immediately gave him a sound whack on his shoulder. Shweta could not hear what she said but she seemed to be affectionately chiding the guy in the front.
Dejected and disappointed, Shweta turned away and took out her mills and boon from the bag. She tried to muster up interest in the hot chemistry sizzling in the pages between the tall hero and his petite heroine. Well, at least these guys are predictable, she sighed.
After the regular hellos and smiles at the few others already in the cab, Shweta moved to her usual seat just behind the driver. Heaving a sigh of relief, she settled in for the next two-hour odd journey to her office in Whitefield. Leaning back against the dusty headrest, Shweta closed her eyes looking forward to the rest of the journey. Today would be interesting, she thought. Wonder what they will discuss? Will they be romantic and mushy or will they have their occasional tiffs? She couldn’t wait.
To while away the time before the duo got in, she took a thin book from her bag and stared at the cover for a moment. It was called “The billionaire’s ransom bride” and had an illustrated cover portraying a passionate lip lock between the hero and his bride. Blushing a little at the way the hero’s hand seemed to be clutching the petite lady’s bottom, she turned to the page where she had stopped yesterday to continue reading her dose of mills and boon for the day. She had always been a hopeless romantic and couldn’t tire of these 180-page books even after her marriage. You would think that the real thing would prove more exciting but for Shweta these books had always been more interesting than her own love life!
The cab continued on the route weaving its way through thick traffic like a drunken man running through a crowd. It stopped briefly a few kilometers away and Shankar from the IT support got in. Shweta immediately flopped her bag on the empty seat next to her and pretended to be engrossed in the book. After hesitating for a second, the guy reluctantly moved away into the back of the cab – he always looked forward to sitting with the pretty lady in the front seat but somehow she never seemed to want to! After ensuring that the flirt from support had moved to the back, Shweta snapped her book shut and returned it to the bag. It will just be a few more minutes now before their pick up point arrived. Tiny butterflies started dancing in her stomach and she tried to contain her excitement.
The girl got in first. She was dressed in a beautiful sleeveless white and pink chudhidar and loud accessories to match. In her hand, she carried two bags – one a beige handbag which can only be designer and in the other a Dora embellished bag like the lunch bags kids carry to school. Such a contrast, thought Shweta smiling sillily at the girl. The girl seemed not to notice and took the seat in line with Shweta’s on the other side. They always sat at the same place everyday which is why Shweta also always sought out the seat in front. She wondered if they belonged to the same project. The cab turned down a few more roads to the next pick up point and seeing that there was no one waiting at the spot, the driver pressed his feet harder on the accelerator.
The girl squeaked “Anna, wait maadiii…. bartha idare” (Wait, please…he is coming)
The cab driver braked hard to stop and after a nasty glance at the girl started drilling his hands on the steering wheel impatiently. The clock seemed to tick loudly and everybody waited looking out the windows and door. Suddenly, the girl started smiling, and gesturing to some one in the street. Like the hero in a movie climax, Shashank Gowda ran full tilt and jumped into the cab.
Grinning widely, Shanshank took the seat opposite Shweta next to the girl in pink and white.
“Hi Shweta” he said turning sideways to look at Shweta “Thindi aytha?” (Had breakfast?)
“No, no time!” Shweta turned to smile at Shashank. “Yours?”
“Oh yes” replied Shashank moving back to lean in his seat.
With another silly smile, Shweta turned back to the front and closed her eyes, pretending to sleep for the rest of the journey. If her ears twitched a couple of times to hear better, the couple seated a few distance away seemed not to notice.
“Hello madam….” Shashank murmured in a near whisper “How are we today?”
“I thought you were not coming….. You gave me a scare, the driver almost didn’t stop, you know?” said the girl ignoring his question.
“Oh sorry. I will call you tomorrow if I get late, ok? Then you can tell the driver before hand” Shashank replied.
“Hmm” she said moving slightly to adjust her dupatta. Her bare arms brushed against Shashank’s and both of them fidgeted a little conscious of their proximity in the small space that was supposed to be a two-seater.
“So Div, what did you prepare today?” questioned Shashank.
Oh, her name is Divya, thought Shweta opening her eyes. She had forgotten! Nice name…. Shashank and Divya went well…. didn’t they? She wondered if Divya will take Shashank’s last name if they get married. Divya Gowda…. how does that sound? Hmm, not that great. Hearing them continue, she scolded herself mentally for not paying attention and closed her eyes again.
“Tomato rice” Divya replied, “Want to taste?”
“No, its okay. You won’t have any left for lunch if I open that box now” Shashank said shaking his head.
“Oh” Divya said disappointed. “I thought you liked Tomato…. that’s what you said yesterday!”
“Oh yes, I love them. Ok I changed my mind. Give me the box.” grinned Shashank.
The smell of fried onions, cooked and ripe tomatoes mixed with southern masalas assaulted Shweta’s nose within a few moments making her mouth water. Can Divya cook well? Would she have used the easy pressure cooker method to make the Tomato rice or would have painstakingly cooked the gravy and rice separately? Nah, it must be the former. No one would have the time to prepare the elaborate way in the mornings! And looking at the way the girl dressed up with matching earrings, bangles and even bindhi to boot, she must have surely done it the easy way. Lucky girl, no kid and husband to manage….
“How is it? Like it”? Divya questioned.
“This is delicious, you cook so well” murmured Shashank flatteringly relishing the huge mouthful he had stuffed his mouth with.
Guys can be so crude at times talking with mouth full and all that. How unsightly it must look to Divya thought Shweta. Jeez, hope she doesn’t mind crass guys otherwise Shashank will never stand a chance of hooking her!
“Thanks! Glad you like it” Divya said blushing a little, “I will prepare it in another way and get it tomorrow. It will taste really different but still nice… and it is much faster – I would just have to pressure cook the rice, tomato, and masalas together…”
“Wow, you seem like an expert cook. Even I love cooking….. Though my mom never allows me inside the kitchen. She says I make a mess” Shashank said spooning another mouthful of the delicious looking tomato rice.
“Listen…. maybe you know…. we should kind of meet up a weekend and you can teach me how to make this tomato rice….? I would love to learn…. this is so delicious… my mom can never make anything like this” continued Shashank closing the by-now empty box and handing it over to Divya.
Just then the cab driver took a steep right turn without a leg on the brakes. Sometimes, he thinks of himself as a race motorist. The cab driver. Cursing him mentally, Shweta tried to steady herself from going out the window.
Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Divya desperately trying to do the opposite clinging to the windows but momentum and gravity seemed to push her to lean hard against Shashank. Her right hand seemed to come up automatically and clutched Shashank and remained there just a bit longer than necessary long after the cab completed the turn.
Oooooh, God! Are they at the next stage already? thought Shweta trying to remember what that anthropologist Desmond Morris spoke of in his book “The Naked Ape” about the stages leading to copulation.
“Sure…..” Divya replied taking her box back from Shashank and keeping it in her lunch bag.
“Hey, new bag?” Shashank inspected the character printed on the bag “Who is this? New cartoon?”
“You don’t know? That’s Dora?” Divya proudly pronounced, “She is all the rage these days. Kids love her… and the monkey next to her is Boots”
“Wow, you seem to have learned all about them………… along with….”
Nice trick Shashank. But you need to be a little more subtle than that. I can spot your interest a mile away and Divya may find you too fast worried Shweta. She hoped not. Over the last few weeks, she had listened in on their conversations unashamedly and had come to look forward to the cab ride every morning. Her novel faded in comparison to the live love story that was developing in front of her eyes. And the desperate “happily ever after” seeker that she is, she imagined all their back and forths must be because of their interest in each other.
“Along with Kriya” continued Shashank “So how come you are carrying her lunch bag”
Hey, wait a sec. Who is this Kriya? Shweta had never heard that name mentioned before.
“Well, Kriya had to stay back at home today because she has a bad cold. My husband is looking after her…… so I took her bag! After all she takes my stuff all the time” answered Divya.
Shweta eyes popped open and she saw Shashank grinning down at Divya telling her something. They both laughed out loud. Shweta couldn’t believe her eyes or ears. She couldn’t believe her own stupidity. The loud honks from the traffic suddenly increased in volume and seemed to drown out every other noise. A bike screeched to a halt next to the cab that had just stopped for a red light. The pillion rider, a young girl, fell on the bike rider and immediately gave him a sound whack on his shoulder. Shweta could not hear what she said but she seemed to be affectionately chiding the guy in the front.
Dejected and disappointed, Shweta turned away and took out her mills and boon from the bag. She tried to muster up interest in the hot chemistry sizzling in the pages between the tall hero and his petite heroine. Well, at least these guys are predictable, she sighed.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Can’t wait for happily ever after (The final part)
Priyam returned to the present with a bang and felt herself being shaken. She opened her eyes and found herself staring into Ram’s fierce eyes.
Ram looked at her tenderly and asked, “Priya, where did you go? Were you thinking of our days together 7 years back?”
Pushing herself away from him, Priyam stepped back and with a deliberate intention to hurt said, “No, Ram. Am just thinking of how to get rid of you this time round like you did me the last time”
“Stop it” cried Ram, “How can you expect a 21 year old to leave all the life he had known and dreamed for, and elope with the girl he had met just a year back?”
“I had fallen in love with you with too, Priya, but I had not been prepared for marriage so soon. I had wanted to make something of myself before committing myself. But you had been in too much of a hurry…….” he continued, going on to explain how he had come over to her house the next day only to find she had left home. He had been sad too but he had dreams he wanted to accomplish and he had moved on.
“But not a day went by without me regretting the way our relationship ended, Priya. Please believe me”, he ended sincerely.
With each word he spoke, Priyam felt her heart breaking into a thousand pieces. Oh, my god, what had she done in her foolishness. In her hurry to get her happily ever after, she had spoilt their tender relationship. Priyam could hold her tears no longer and she broke into heavy sobs. Ram gently gathered her to him, tucked her into his strong arms, and started rocking her back and forth.
“Hush, My kitten, Come on now, it’s okay” he whispered “There’s time enough for that later.”
“What do you mean?” she couldn’t stop herself from asking, hoping.
“Well” he grinned, “Just that I don’t plan to let you run this time and you have all the time in the world to fling your accusations. For now, can’t you be content with enjoying our first night together?”
Can she dare hope? Is he saying what she is thinking? But this time around, she will not rush to grab her happily ever after. No, sir, she is going wait…. for it to come to her.
Almost shyly she whispered, barely audible, “Yes.”
Ram looked at her tenderly and asked, “Priya, where did you go? Were you thinking of our days together 7 years back?”
Pushing herself away from him, Priyam stepped back and with a deliberate intention to hurt said, “No, Ram. Am just thinking of how to get rid of you this time round like you did me the last time”
“Stop it” cried Ram, “How can you expect a 21 year old to leave all the life he had known and dreamed for, and elope with the girl he had met just a year back?”
“I had fallen in love with you with too, Priya, but I had not been prepared for marriage so soon. I had wanted to make something of myself before committing myself. But you had been in too much of a hurry…….” he continued, going on to explain how he had come over to her house the next day only to find she had left home. He had been sad too but he had dreams he wanted to accomplish and he had moved on.
“But not a day went by without me regretting the way our relationship ended, Priya. Please believe me”, he ended sincerely.
With each word he spoke, Priyam felt her heart breaking into a thousand pieces. Oh, my god, what had she done in her foolishness. In her hurry to get her happily ever after, she had spoilt their tender relationship. Priyam could hold her tears no longer and she broke into heavy sobs. Ram gently gathered her to him, tucked her into his strong arms, and started rocking her back and forth.
“Hush, My kitten, Come on now, it’s okay” he whispered “There’s time enough for that later.”
“What do you mean?” she couldn’t stop herself from asking, hoping.
“Well” he grinned, “Just that I don’t plan to let you run this time and you have all the time in the world to fling your accusations. For now, can’t you be content with enjoying our first night together?”
Can she dare hope? Is he saying what she is thinking? But this time around, she will not rush to grab her happily ever after. No, sir, she is going wait…. for it to come to her.
Almost shyly she whispered, barely audible, “Yes.”
Can’t wait for happily ever after (part II)
Priyam didn’t want to recall the details of that fateful day. But her mind did not listen and she was instantly thrown back into time. She felt herself being surrounded by the sounds, sights and smell of her life seven years back. She saw herself, an innocent and beautiful Priyam, walking hand in hand with a handsome looking Ram, strolling in the deep gardens of Bangalore in the hour just before Sunrise. They had had the habit of jogging together in the mornings but that day had been different.
They had met at college during their final year, she a communications student wanting to be a journalist and him a technologist studying computers. They had been so different from each other – as different as extreme opposites can get. She had been outgoing while he was ever the brooding one. She had been content with life’s small pleasures while he had wanted the moon. She spoke one language and he another. The list went on.
But their chemistry had been undeniable even back then and she had had no resistance. She had fallen deeply in love with him and had wanted to spend most of her waking hours with him, ever mindful of the end of term when they may be forced to part ways. Like the young and foolish do, she had never thought about their dramatically different backgrounds.
She had thought their love can overcome all the differences, she had dreamed of a happily ever after. On that particular day, they had met up for their jog as usual. She had been feeling particularly nervous. The term was scheduled to end in another week and she had wanted Ram to utter the reassurances she sought.
Save for a few joggers, they had had the park to themselves. They had decided to take it easy that day and agreed on a leisurely stroll around the park. Of course, they had stopped frequently and after looking around to ensure nobody was watching, had kissed each other repeatedly. Their desire had only heighted with each kiss they shared. Priyam had been thrilled when Ram had taken her face in his hands and murmured his first “I love you” to her.
Throwing caution to the winds, she had poured out her feelings to him and had asked him to marry her. Ram had seemed taken back, even shocked initially but he had quickly recovered and had uttered “Sure” in his normal quiet fashion. That had been enough for her. She had made all the arrangements and she had wanted it to be a big surprise for him. Stupidly, she had thought she will offer herself to him and he would find it impossible to say no. Oh, how could she have been so foolish?
When her parents had temporarily gone out of town, she had thought it a heaven sent opportunity to prove her love to him. His initial hesitation at her proclamation of love had been increasingly sneaking up in her thoughts making her uneasy. So she decided to take their relationship to the next level to show him she truly loved him and had invited him over to her house for the night in the pretext of studying for the final exams together.
She had even dressed up in sexy lingerie. When Ram knocked the door, she had almost screamed in joy. Yes, he had come over which must only mean he really loved her back. She had opened the door, ushered him inside, and had dramatically taken off her clothes in an attempt to seduce him. She had expected Ram to take her into his arms or at least stare at her but she had never imagined what he said next.
“Priya, what do you think you are doing?” Ram had cried bending down to take her discarded robe and handing it to her, “Come on, get dressed. Let’s get started with our books.”
Oh, she had been mortified. She had wanted to bury herself ten thousand feet below the Earth and never surface. Their relationship had gone downhill from then. The next few weeks had been tense with exams and the shadow of her actions on that night. She had felt like a swimmer out of depth desperately trying to stay afloat. She had tried to convince herself that it must have been his sense of honor that must have made him do what he did. He must have wanted to wait till they were both independent before taking the big step. She had tried hard, really hard to deny it had been anything other than his love and honor that had come in the way. Oh, she had been foolish.
On the last day of exams, she had sent him a note declaring her undying love adding that she will be waiting for him. She had suggested for them to run away somewhere, perhaps go on a vacation to sort their life. She had packed her bag and had gone to the designated place to wait for him. She had waited…….. till the clock had continued turning to announce the dawning of another day. She had not wanted to believe that he wouldn’t come…. But he had never turned up. And she had never seen him again. In her anger over her own foolishness, she had not returned home and had taken a train to another city and another life. Oh, she had been so foolish…..
They had met at college during their final year, she a communications student wanting to be a journalist and him a technologist studying computers. They had been so different from each other – as different as extreme opposites can get. She had been outgoing while he was ever the brooding one. She had been content with life’s small pleasures while he had wanted the moon. She spoke one language and he another. The list went on.
But their chemistry had been undeniable even back then and she had had no resistance. She had fallen deeply in love with him and had wanted to spend most of her waking hours with him, ever mindful of the end of term when they may be forced to part ways. Like the young and foolish do, she had never thought about their dramatically different backgrounds.
She had thought their love can overcome all the differences, she had dreamed of a happily ever after. On that particular day, they had met up for their jog as usual. She had been feeling particularly nervous. The term was scheduled to end in another week and she had wanted Ram to utter the reassurances she sought.
Save for a few joggers, they had had the park to themselves. They had decided to take it easy that day and agreed on a leisurely stroll around the park. Of course, they had stopped frequently and after looking around to ensure nobody was watching, had kissed each other repeatedly. Their desire had only heighted with each kiss they shared. Priyam had been thrilled when Ram had taken her face in his hands and murmured his first “I love you” to her.
Throwing caution to the winds, she had poured out her feelings to him and had asked him to marry her. Ram had seemed taken back, even shocked initially but he had quickly recovered and had uttered “Sure” in his normal quiet fashion. That had been enough for her. She had made all the arrangements and she had wanted it to be a big surprise for him. Stupidly, she had thought she will offer herself to him and he would find it impossible to say no. Oh, how could she have been so foolish?
When her parents had temporarily gone out of town, she had thought it a heaven sent opportunity to prove her love to him. His initial hesitation at her proclamation of love had been increasingly sneaking up in her thoughts making her uneasy. So she decided to take their relationship to the next level to show him she truly loved him and had invited him over to her house for the night in the pretext of studying for the final exams together.
She had even dressed up in sexy lingerie. When Ram knocked the door, she had almost screamed in joy. Yes, he had come over which must only mean he really loved her back. She had opened the door, ushered him inside, and had dramatically taken off her clothes in an attempt to seduce him. She had expected Ram to take her into his arms or at least stare at her but she had never imagined what he said next.
“Priya, what do you think you are doing?” Ram had cried bending down to take her discarded robe and handing it to her, “Come on, get dressed. Let’s get started with our books.”
Oh, she had been mortified. She had wanted to bury herself ten thousand feet below the Earth and never surface. Their relationship had gone downhill from then. The next few weeks had been tense with exams and the shadow of her actions on that night. She had felt like a swimmer out of depth desperately trying to stay afloat. She had tried to convince herself that it must have been his sense of honor that must have made him do what he did. He must have wanted to wait till they were both independent before taking the big step. She had tried hard, really hard to deny it had been anything other than his love and honor that had come in the way. Oh, she had been foolish.
On the last day of exams, she had sent him a note declaring her undying love adding that she will be waiting for him. She had suggested for them to run away somewhere, perhaps go on a vacation to sort their life. She had packed her bag and had gone to the designated place to wait for him. She had waited…….. till the clock had continued turning to announce the dawning of another day. She had not wanted to believe that he wouldn’t come…. But he had never turned up. And she had never seen him again. In her anger over her own foolishness, she had not returned home and had taken a train to another city and another life. Oh, she had been so foolish…..
Can’t wait for happily ever after (part I)
The room was silent except for the whisper of bodies rubbing against each other and the rustle of sheets. After what seemed like just a few minutes of loving but in reality over a couple of hours, Priyam and Ram lay back breathing heavily, content and exhausted. What had they done, thought Priyam. She had been so careful all these years and for this to happen now is the cruelest thing that can happen to her. Oh, how can she do this to herself? She had denied herself love and pleasure the past few years knowing that she will get hurt otherwise. Isn’t one hard lesson enough in one’s life?
They had met again at their class reunion. She had never expected him to turn up which was why she had thought it safe to go. After all, how many technology hotshots turn up for reunions? So she had really been shocked when she had spotted him in the party and had tried sneaking away without being noticed. But fate had had other plans and before long they had bumped into each other in spite of her calculated moves to avoid him.
One glance from him and she had felt like her 20 year old self all over again. Naïve and susceptible to silly emotions. She had pretended she had not been affected meeting him but what she had not counted on was the inescapable chemistry they had shared. She had tried hard to remain unaffected but somehow he seemed determined to charm her. And before long one thing led to another and they found themselves alone in her apartment. She did not even want to think about what transpired after that though admittedly it had been the most wonderful thing that had happened to her.
It had been their first time together and it had been all that she had imagined and more. Priyam stared at the ceiling and wondered what will happen next. They had already broken up once and she was not sure she could take it again. Oh no, not again.
Moaning like an animal in pain, Priyam quickly gathered her clothes and rushed to the bathroom without glancing at the tall lean figure in the bed. Ram can take care of himself for after all doesn’t he have the most perfect and successful life of all in their class? Others are not so fortunate, especially her. She had no time to revel in this aftermath of intense loving, however she longed to. Dawn will break soon and with it reality will descend on them like a heavy shroud of mist. She had no strength left to face it with him. She needed to be alone. She needed to protect herself.
After hurriedly getting dressed, Priyam returned to the room and tried to get some semblance of order back.
“Aren’t you getting dressed? Your family must be missing you” she tossed at him angrily.
“Priya, don’t. Please don’t” he replied, “There is time enough for that later.”
"Ya right. When?” she retorted, “When you are thousands of miles away, safe from me?" she shouted with a shrill laugh trying hard not to give away any of her emotions.
"This should never have happened” she cried almost in a whisper.
“Yes, I know” Ram said, infuriating her even more.
“You bastard, how dare you? How dare you stand there and say that to me after all these years? After all that happened? If at all anything shouldn’t have happened, it was me meeting you. Oh, how I wish I had never met you” she hurled hurtingly at him.
Ram got up from the bed and started getting dressed but not before she noticed him flinch. Priyam immediately wished she could take her words back. Was it possible she might have hurt him?
“Priya, I never meant to hurt you” Ram said hesitatingly. “Can’t you forgive me for what happened in the past?” he murmured. “For heaven’s sake, I was just 21!”
“Forgive?” whispered Priyam, “Yes, I can forgive you Ram but I will never forget. You left me alone…. I trusted you……”
They had met again at their class reunion. She had never expected him to turn up which was why she had thought it safe to go. After all, how many technology hotshots turn up for reunions? So she had really been shocked when she had spotted him in the party and had tried sneaking away without being noticed. But fate had had other plans and before long they had bumped into each other in spite of her calculated moves to avoid him.
One glance from him and she had felt like her 20 year old self all over again. Naïve and susceptible to silly emotions. She had pretended she had not been affected meeting him but what she had not counted on was the inescapable chemistry they had shared. She had tried hard to remain unaffected but somehow he seemed determined to charm her. And before long one thing led to another and they found themselves alone in her apartment. She did not even want to think about what transpired after that though admittedly it had been the most wonderful thing that had happened to her.
It had been their first time together and it had been all that she had imagined and more. Priyam stared at the ceiling and wondered what will happen next. They had already broken up once and she was not sure she could take it again. Oh no, not again.
Moaning like an animal in pain, Priyam quickly gathered her clothes and rushed to the bathroom without glancing at the tall lean figure in the bed. Ram can take care of himself for after all doesn’t he have the most perfect and successful life of all in their class? Others are not so fortunate, especially her. She had no time to revel in this aftermath of intense loving, however she longed to. Dawn will break soon and with it reality will descend on them like a heavy shroud of mist. She had no strength left to face it with him. She needed to be alone. She needed to protect herself.
After hurriedly getting dressed, Priyam returned to the room and tried to get some semblance of order back.
“Aren’t you getting dressed? Your family must be missing you” she tossed at him angrily.
“Priya, don’t. Please don’t” he replied, “There is time enough for that later.”
"Ya right. When?” she retorted, “When you are thousands of miles away, safe from me?" she shouted with a shrill laugh trying hard not to give away any of her emotions.
"This should never have happened” she cried almost in a whisper.
“Yes, I know” Ram said, infuriating her even more.
“You bastard, how dare you? How dare you stand there and say that to me after all these years? After all that happened? If at all anything shouldn’t have happened, it was me meeting you. Oh, how I wish I had never met you” she hurled hurtingly at him.
Ram got up from the bed and started getting dressed but not before she noticed him flinch. Priyam immediately wished she could take her words back. Was it possible she might have hurt him?
“Priya, I never meant to hurt you” Ram said hesitatingly. “Can’t you forgive me for what happened in the past?” he murmured. “For heaven’s sake, I was just 21!”
“Forgive?” whispered Priyam, “Yes, I can forgive you Ram but I will never forget. You left me alone…. I trusted you……”
After Mom
It was dark. But not so dark that you can’t see. He gets up from his bed and moved towards the window and lifts the curtain to peek around. Slowly. Very slowly.
Would she be here today? Will she dance like she did the other time? wondered Rue.
It was totally accidental. There was a power cut and Rue couldn’t sleep that night. The hot air combined with the musky smell that lingers long after the cleaning lady leaves makes the room unimaginable without the constant drone of the ceiling fan. He had got up to open the windows and let the sea breeze in. Little had he known what awaited him the other side of the window. And he was hooked after that.
It became a ritual, power cut or otherwise. He would wake up at 12 every night and move towards the window. Slowly lift the pretty hand stitched curtains that were once his mom’s pride and gaze down at the garden. Some days she is there and some others she is not. On the days that he finds her, she usually dances around the bushes picking the flowers or fruits that had fallen on the ground and stacks them in the corner.
Papa always thinks it’s the work of the musk-scented lady and uses it as an opportunity to talk to her, thank her and of course touch her. He thinks Rue does not notice but Rue does. Rue can very well see that his papa’s damp hands on the cleaning lady’s shoulders actually wish they were a little lower. He had seen Papa staring at the lady’s chest on many occasions. Even when mom was around. Mom had not minded. Rue had. He does. He hates the cleaning lady.
On this particular night, she is not there. In fact, Rue had almost given up hoping to see her again ever since last month’s incident. On that day, Rue had been foolish enough to call out to her. One look at Rue and she just vanished. Vanished into thin air. Rue wished he hadn’t done that. But he had been so sad and so delighted - both at the same time. He had wanted to feel her arms around him once again. Have her kiss him one last time. Snuggle against her breasts and feel like a baby again. Oh, if only…
Stepping up his courage, Rue moves away from the window towards the door. Should he go down to the garden? Maybe she is hiding somewhere waiting for him to find her. That had been their favorite game after all. Playing hide & seek around the banyan trees.
The garden at this hour does not seem to be a friendly place. It hardly resembles the bright cheerful place of his memories. There are dark corners that seem to be arbouring evil things. The wind moving in and out of the banyan roots create a strange symphony almost like distant human whispers.
Rue picks up his nerve and steps into the middle of the yard. He calls out. Once, twice more. Nobody responds. He turns away dejectedly. He better go to sleep – he has a maths test to give tomorrow morning.
Wait. Was that his name? Is somebody calling his name? Nah. Imagination. He climbs the final steps into the house and closes the door quietly. After reaching his room, all he is able to do is fall on the bed and sleep which is weird. One would have expected him to cry. Cry like only a ten year old can. For his mom. But strangely Rue feels good. He nods off with a silly smile on his face.
Below, unseen by Rue, she dances. She smiles and she knows that she will always be there for Rue. Even if he can’t see her. Moms have an intense love towards their children and a fierce need to protect them at all times. Sometimes even after death.
Would she be here today? Will she dance like she did the other time? wondered Rue.
It was totally accidental. There was a power cut and Rue couldn’t sleep that night. The hot air combined with the musky smell that lingers long after the cleaning lady leaves makes the room unimaginable without the constant drone of the ceiling fan. He had got up to open the windows and let the sea breeze in. Little had he known what awaited him the other side of the window. And he was hooked after that.
It became a ritual, power cut or otherwise. He would wake up at 12 every night and move towards the window. Slowly lift the pretty hand stitched curtains that were once his mom’s pride and gaze down at the garden. Some days she is there and some others she is not. On the days that he finds her, she usually dances around the bushes picking the flowers or fruits that had fallen on the ground and stacks them in the corner.
Papa always thinks it’s the work of the musk-scented lady and uses it as an opportunity to talk to her, thank her and of course touch her. He thinks Rue does not notice but Rue does. Rue can very well see that his papa’s damp hands on the cleaning lady’s shoulders actually wish they were a little lower. He had seen Papa staring at the lady’s chest on many occasions. Even when mom was around. Mom had not minded. Rue had. He does. He hates the cleaning lady.
On this particular night, she is not there. In fact, Rue had almost given up hoping to see her again ever since last month’s incident. On that day, Rue had been foolish enough to call out to her. One look at Rue and she just vanished. Vanished into thin air. Rue wished he hadn’t done that. But he had been so sad and so delighted - both at the same time. He had wanted to feel her arms around him once again. Have her kiss him one last time. Snuggle against her breasts and feel like a baby again. Oh, if only…
Stepping up his courage, Rue moves away from the window towards the door. Should he go down to the garden? Maybe she is hiding somewhere waiting for him to find her. That had been their favorite game after all. Playing hide & seek around the banyan trees.
The garden at this hour does not seem to be a friendly place. It hardly resembles the bright cheerful place of his memories. There are dark corners that seem to be arbouring evil things. The wind moving in and out of the banyan roots create a strange symphony almost like distant human whispers.
Rue picks up his nerve and steps into the middle of the yard. He calls out. Once, twice more. Nobody responds. He turns away dejectedly. He better go to sleep – he has a maths test to give tomorrow morning.
Wait. Was that his name? Is somebody calling his name? Nah. Imagination. He climbs the final steps into the house and closes the door quietly. After reaching his room, all he is able to do is fall on the bed and sleep which is weird. One would have expected him to cry. Cry like only a ten year old can. For his mom. But strangely Rue feels good. He nods off with a silly smile on his face.
Below, unseen by Rue, she dances. She smiles and she knows that she will always be there for Rue. Even if he can’t see her. Moms have an intense love towards their children and a fierce need to protect them at all times. Sometimes even after death.
A million reasons
I cry because I grew up too fast and I can never be a child again
I cry because I can never bawl like a kid in front of the entire world
I cry because there’s no one to wipe away the tears
I cry because nobody notices the damp pillows in the morning
I cry because there are a million more reasons to cry
I cry because I can never bawl like a kid in front of the entire world
I cry because there’s no one to wipe away the tears
I cry because nobody notices the damp pillows in the morning
I cry because there are a million more reasons to cry
Remembering Grandpa
(Continued from the previous post)
Come summer holidays, me and sister packed up our gears and headed to Perumbur. My grandpa’s and cousins’ place. The days were heady playing all day, and the nights a little scary without mom around. But in one word, it was fantastic. So many of my life’s small milestones were achieved in Perumbur. Learning to cycle, learning to play cards, learning to make milk koa, learning to make lime juice, learning to tickle-play, learning to live without mom around, learning to lookup rahu-kalam, learning to sing, learning to believe in religious things, learning to believe in supernatural goddess and their appearances, learning to watch frogs, learning to plant roses, learning to ……….. so many things :) Did you read the post about gardening? I now remember that the foundation of my gardening started in my grandpa’s house. My grandpa’s house was an individual house (meaning not an apartment or something similar) that stood surrounded on three sides by gardens with all kind of plants, bugs and things. So no wonder that I got hooked to gardening at a relatively young age.
So what do I remember of the times I spent with my thatha? In no particular order, and no thought to readability, here goes…
- Hiding behind my mom, scared to look at the tall tall man who she called appa
- Envying my cousins and sister who enjoyed a jovial familiarity with him which I could not
- The reverence, respect, and at times the fear with which the others treated him with and spoke about him
- Playing cards all day long – In fact, I learnt to play cards sitting under his chair. He was one who taught all of us to play and the mean old devil always said “even if you put sand as your next drop card, am sure to win!”
- Learning to swear like a sailor :) When the game of cards did not go to his liking, my thatha always let forth a slew of curses and bad words which we the young kids were only all too ready to pick up. We used to memorize those words, and wait for the right opportunity to ask an elder for its meaning. Man, when they heard us kids uttering the words with glee, they sure had an heart attack!
- When someone had the misfortune to commit a wrong act or say the wrong thing, he/she fell under the nasty tongue of my thatha. I loved watching him curse them with a wicked pleasure that am sure no kid should enjoy
- Waiting for him to command my ammama to make sweets for us kids
- Watching cricket with him and getting bored to tears
- Sometimes, due to his inability, he depended on others to feed him or give him his drink. At times, that “others” became me. It was usually coffee – and oh god, I used to be so scared. I used to take the cup till his mouth, tilt it a little, and pour a spoonful very carefully into his open mouth. Splutter will come an expletive. “Enna ma, you are feeding me as if I am a dead thing or a young baby, tilt and pour more for heaven’s sake, will you” he used to say. Or “what the **** is this? It tastes like cat’s pee! Can’t you bring it when its real hot?”
- The interrogation of our report cards, how we are studying, what we wanted to become in life…… you get the drift
- I used to get so incensed when he spoke ill about my paternal grandparents
- The many tales he used to regale us with. He had a dramatic way of narrating things and usually he told us incidents from his life and duties when he was an employee at Railways. His recollections of his father and mother and his family while he was young. The days when he could afford everything they needed for the month under one rupee…
- Oh yes, how can I forget? The one thing we really really looked forward to when we went to his house was the money he used to give us. Without fail, we used to get a hundred rupee note – oh, how we used to treasure that. Sometimes, he handed out smaller sums asking us to buy ourselves cakes and chips.
- Helping him do his exercises and physiotherapy
- Watching chithi help him with bathing, and other activities
- Feeling sad for him
- He always used to wait for us at the gate when he knew we were coming. And when he sees the auto stop in front of the gate, he used to call out in a booming voice, “va ma kanna”
- Envying him his green eyes – and scolding my mom for not inheriting his eyes and passing it on to me!
- His advice to always be independent, not depend on the husband, and save for the rainy day
- And so many more things……… I guess I can keep writing till the day ends
Sadly, when we grew up, we spent less and less time at his house. Instead of every other month, it became once in six months, and more recently, almost once a year. In fact, the last time I saw him was over a year ago when I had gone to show him his great grand daughter (my kid). He seemed very happy. And he finally realized that I had made something for myself and had not wasted my life. I could finally spot a bit of respect in his eyes for the life I had made for myself. I proudly told him about where I work and what I do and he was like “ahaaaaaaam, that’s good”.
I think we will miss him. When we go to Perumbur now, we will have no one waiting at the gates for us. No one around to fear and dread. No one to learn expletives from. No one to play cards with. No one to tell us tales.
We will miss him.
An ode to my grandpa
The day began like any other ordinary day in the mundane life of just another normal person in the world. I went about the daily stuff with the usual worries over stupid things that really matter not. And when I received a call from my sister, I cut the call thinking that I will call her back to save her the few coins. After all, right now at this stage of life, I can afford them more than her. The first clue that all was not well was when I tried calling her back after a minute and found her phone engaged. Mentally chiding her for her lack of patience, I kept my phone down only to pick it up right back when she rang again. Ha! Persistent sister! I picked up the call looking forward to her cheerful hello and perhaps a hour long talk to soothe the souls. Her first few words shocked me into silence. My first reaction, unlike what you might expect which is usually disbelief, was a strange acceptance. Govindachari thatha passed away this morning di, cried my sister. The phone can be so inadequate at most times, and this time it was really over the top.
I remember my thatha as an authoritative and arrogant man who probably always stood out in the crowd, his demeanor only accentuated by his light green eyes – a rarity in this part of the world. He was my maternal grandpa, a strong guy until his fifties when he suddenly met with a serious accident that damaged his spinal cord. A freak accident really – he had gone shopping that day to bring in some veggies for a special Sunday lunch, when an immature young kid lost control of his bike and rode it straight over him. First degree spinal damage. Complete immobility – total loss of hand control and a moderate loss of leg control. The arrogant strong man succumbed to a dreary life bound to the bed and chair.
He had worked all his life in the Southern Railways, a so called lucky central government employee. He climbed his way in the corrupt ladder to eventually retire as a senior level officer. It was the first weekend after his retirement I think (not sure) – the fateful day of the accident – and the family wanted to celebrate it with a special lunch. Not to be. He ended up confined to his bed, and would have stayed there for the rest for his life if not for his rigorous self-control and discipline. With the help of physiotherapy, exercises, and his younger daughter, he eventually regained control of his legs and could move about almost independently. His hands were still frozen like claws due to the nerve damage, but he tried hard to at least eat on his own if not perform other activities. But though he conquered the bed, his home became his jail. He never could regain his youthful strength back to go more than a few steps outside his house.
He had three kids – two daughters and one son. The eldest of the daughter was married to a traditional staunch religious (iyengar) family. The second daughter was married to her mom’s younger brother – who was miles away due to his job – so she elected to stay with her parents while both of them met up only during the weekends. And the son decided to go oversees in pursuit of better opportunities and eventually became a green card holder and an American citizen. My ammama i.e my grandma, I oh so remember her fondly, is a kind lady who was very devoted to the various Gods, Goddesses, poojas and other rituals. She doted on her grand children, her dominant husband, and in short, her family. I think she was content with just those two – family and Gods. No other life. I don’t think I can ever ask her questions such as “were you ever discontent with the life you choose”. So I will never know for sure.
The younger daughter sacrificed her life, and remained with her handicapped father – she looked after all his needs and he her children’s. My grandpa taught, preached, inspired, and guided the life of her two children both of whom later grew up to be reasonably admirable individuals in the society. It was his way of paying back for the relentless care she bestowed on him.
As is bound to happen, old age caught up with everyone. He turned eighty few years back and continued to live on. Bitterness started flowing freely – after all how long can you accept being left out of the fate’s “to die” list. It must not have been easy – not at all. It came to a point where he literally wished for death every day am told. It finally decreed to grant him his wish.
He died yesterday, the Sunday, 27th July 2008. After over two decades of life limited by the results of that one fateful day. The reason for his death is not clear – should probably suffice it to just old age, and the weariness of living in the slowly decaying body.
They say that you better not speak ill of the dead and if you must speak at all, speak only the good. So I shall. Though minor thoughts of his arrogant actions creep up from the young corners of my mind, I shall endeavor to paint only the best picture of him here, as I hope I have done so far.
As mentioned previously, he was an arrogant man – but kind I think. I do not remember much, if at all anything, of him before his accident. Those memories are very dull & weak and not to be relied upon. So I shall leave them be. Instead, let me pull out the stronger ones out and describe them here for posterity’s sake.
Though I couldn’t go down and pay my respects to the old man (due to the choices I have made in life, I have been rendered 380 kilometers away from the family I was born into), I have my own sadness. It is nowhere near to my mom’s, chithi’s and others. I was never close to him. I was more attached to my paternal grandparents. But like all grandparents, whichever side they belong, time does make them fond to you over the years however bad you might have perceived them to be while you were young. So, I remember my grandpa fondly. And when I recollect the happy summer days at my cousins’ place, he is the hero who rules over those memories.
So here’s to the central figure of all my memories of summer holidays. Grandpa, I cannot say that I loved you. I cannot say that I will miss you. But what I can say is, you did make to a difference in my life though I know not the magnitude of it. And for those times, however small they were in time’s measure, you were my hero. The hero who I imagined fighting all the corrupt bad guys. The guy who had to struggle against all odds. In retrospect, I do feel like murmuring those inadequate three words. I loved you.
I do hope you learnt all the life lessons you needed to learn in this incarnation and your soul is finally lighter for it. I feel happy for you, grandpa. You succeeded and brilliantly at that. I hope you are where you now need to be. To the lifetime you led, and the memories you have left behind in everybody’s mind……………
Please know that you were important.
To be continued.
I remember my thatha as an authoritative and arrogant man who probably always stood out in the crowd, his demeanor only accentuated by his light green eyes – a rarity in this part of the world. He was my maternal grandpa, a strong guy until his fifties when he suddenly met with a serious accident that damaged his spinal cord. A freak accident really – he had gone shopping that day to bring in some veggies for a special Sunday lunch, when an immature young kid lost control of his bike and rode it straight over him. First degree spinal damage. Complete immobility – total loss of hand control and a moderate loss of leg control. The arrogant strong man succumbed to a dreary life bound to the bed and chair.
He had worked all his life in the Southern Railways, a so called lucky central government employee. He climbed his way in the corrupt ladder to eventually retire as a senior level officer. It was the first weekend after his retirement I think (not sure) – the fateful day of the accident – and the family wanted to celebrate it with a special lunch. Not to be. He ended up confined to his bed, and would have stayed there for the rest for his life if not for his rigorous self-control and discipline. With the help of physiotherapy, exercises, and his younger daughter, he eventually regained control of his legs and could move about almost independently. His hands were still frozen like claws due to the nerve damage, but he tried hard to at least eat on his own if not perform other activities. But though he conquered the bed, his home became his jail. He never could regain his youthful strength back to go more than a few steps outside his house.
He had three kids – two daughters and one son. The eldest of the daughter was married to a traditional staunch religious (iyengar) family. The second daughter was married to her mom’s younger brother – who was miles away due to his job – so she elected to stay with her parents while both of them met up only during the weekends. And the son decided to go oversees in pursuit of better opportunities and eventually became a green card holder and an American citizen. My ammama i.e my grandma, I oh so remember her fondly, is a kind lady who was very devoted to the various Gods, Goddesses, poojas and other rituals. She doted on her grand children, her dominant husband, and in short, her family. I think she was content with just those two – family and Gods. No other life. I don’t think I can ever ask her questions such as “were you ever discontent with the life you choose”. So I will never know for sure.
The younger daughter sacrificed her life, and remained with her handicapped father – she looked after all his needs and he her children’s. My grandpa taught, preached, inspired, and guided the life of her two children both of whom later grew up to be reasonably admirable individuals in the society. It was his way of paying back for the relentless care she bestowed on him.
As is bound to happen, old age caught up with everyone. He turned eighty few years back and continued to live on. Bitterness started flowing freely – after all how long can you accept being left out of the fate’s “to die” list. It must not have been easy – not at all. It came to a point where he literally wished for death every day am told. It finally decreed to grant him his wish.
He died yesterday, the Sunday, 27th July 2008. After over two decades of life limited by the results of that one fateful day. The reason for his death is not clear – should probably suffice it to just old age, and the weariness of living in the slowly decaying body.
They say that you better not speak ill of the dead and if you must speak at all, speak only the good. So I shall. Though minor thoughts of his arrogant actions creep up from the young corners of my mind, I shall endeavor to paint only the best picture of him here, as I hope I have done so far.
As mentioned previously, he was an arrogant man – but kind I think. I do not remember much, if at all anything, of him before his accident. Those memories are very dull & weak and not to be relied upon. So I shall leave them be. Instead, let me pull out the stronger ones out and describe them here for posterity’s sake.
Though I couldn’t go down and pay my respects to the old man (due to the choices I have made in life, I have been rendered 380 kilometers away from the family I was born into), I have my own sadness. It is nowhere near to my mom’s, chithi’s and others. I was never close to him. I was more attached to my paternal grandparents. But like all grandparents, whichever side they belong, time does make them fond to you over the years however bad you might have perceived them to be while you were young. So, I remember my grandpa fondly. And when I recollect the happy summer days at my cousins’ place, he is the hero who rules over those memories.
So here’s to the central figure of all my memories of summer holidays. Grandpa, I cannot say that I loved you. I cannot say that I will miss you. But what I can say is, you did make to a difference in my life though I know not the magnitude of it. And for those times, however small they were in time’s measure, you were my hero. The hero who I imagined fighting all the corrupt bad guys. The guy who had to struggle against all odds. In retrospect, I do feel like murmuring those inadequate three words. I loved you.
I do hope you learnt all the life lessons you needed to learn in this incarnation and your soul is finally lighter for it. I feel happy for you, grandpa. You succeeded and brilliantly at that. I hope you are where you now need to be. To the lifetime you led, and the memories you have left behind in everybody’s mind……………
Please know that you were important.
To be continued.
The dog
The dog sat there wagging his tail. I think it was waiting for its master to return back. It was past 8 o’ clock – far later than the usual five that she is back. I was there – hidden in the corner out of the dog’s eyesight. I’m sure it knew I was there. But it didn’t bother to come investigate. It was awaiting her more. The breeze blew in from the slightly open windows and brought with it the smell of hot coffee and stale masala. The faint noise of the neighbor’s vessels could be heard as well. The dog’s ears twitched for a second then everything became quieter still. After a few more minutes of me observing the dog, and the dog observing the firmly shut door, I decided to get up from my desk. A minute later, I stood towering over the dog, all six feet 2 inches of me. The dog finally decided to acknowledge me and gave my feet a half-hearted lick. It gazed up at me – and seemed to be pleading to know where she is. I turned away not having the courage to tell it that she will never return. The dog must learn. It must learn to live without her. And it will soon know. It will soon realize that it was me. It will soon know...
The story of two crows – before and after – a brief study
What a fine summer morning it was. Everything looked so beautiful and nice. There was nothing that could mar this day, so perfect was it that no other day in history could compare. The two crows were sitting side by side, huddled closely together, as lovers usually do. His beak was stuck in her feathers, intent on grooming her perfectly.
“Ouch” shrieked she.
“Oh, my delicate rose, am sorry” said he, muttering repeatedly “so sorry, so sorry”. You could hear him apologizing far into the night.
It was just an “ouch”.
A few months later….
It was again a fine summer morning. The sky was looking brighter than ever and all the flowers were in full bloom. Did you think the other day was actually good? You should see this day then. So colorful, so lovely. The two crows were sitting side by side in the tree, in a sudden moment of silence. She seemed to spot a fat worm on the ground and zoom she flew to get it for him. If it was really a fat worm, that should serve well as his breakfast. He should like it.
Few minutes later, she flew back in with the worm in her beak. In her excitement to show him his meal, she missed an inch accidentally and banged hard against him.
“Oh, am sorry dear” uttered she sincerely, but meekly.
“You stupid crow, can’t you watch where you are flying?” shouted he, adding insultingly “what an idiotic coconut shell you are”.
It was just an “inch”.
End of story.
From a delicate rose to a hard coconut shell in a matter of few months.
The before and after of the crows’ love life – a study.
Squabble
The baby bird, as it was christened, peeked out of its nest hoping its parents are nowhere nearby. It's been a few days now....cloistered in this warm pricky nest. It took the baby bird quiet sometime to muster up the nerve and trample all the way up from the deep nest. And just as it almost reached the edge....poo, slipped its feet from under and its all the way down to the deep bottom. That was two days ago. This is the fifth attempt. Or maybe sixth? Hmm not sure. Come-on, you can’t expect a kiddo to count, can you now? Well, anyway the sixth time, the birdie baby (they also call it that), came up to the edge, it didn't slip. It peeked out!! Hooray!
"Oh so is this how it looks outside? Hmm, no wonder ma and pa are out all the time!" murmured the baby in its squeaky unused voice. Now, now, didn't I tell you not to ask questions? I didn't? Well now I do. So don’t ask. Don't ask how birdie baby can speak if it has never used its voice. It doesn't know. Frankly neither do I. Anyway, to continue...
Baby took some more steps up and before it knew it, can you believe it, it was sitting on the edge of the nest! And the world was below it. Green was the color of the fields, red was the color of flowers, blue was the sky and birdie was delighted. Maybe it could fly? How can you be so dumb? Inattentive? Don't you know to read? I told you not to ask questions? Birdie baby doesn’t know if it can fly. But I do. But I will not answer you. Now on to the scene.
"Babyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy......... oh my god, dear! dear! You old fool, I am calling you! Would you stop eyeing that red swallow? You are a barbet and its no use I am telling you! Ha! Well listen! Our baby is sitting on the edge of the nest! And he may fall anytime. You better go push him inside"
"Hey hey now there is no need to insult me you hear? Reddie and I are just friends....and well she did give me a little worm the other day when you refused to share that fruit with me.....So....uh what did you say? Hmm uh hmm oh ya, baby birdie! God, that kid will be the death of me! And I haven't even met reddie's parents yet!"
"What? what do you mean? Haven't met reddie's parents? Now why would you want to meet those pale redders? God I am telling you the barbets are done! Gone! If they start seeing reddie's what will happen to us? God are you listening? God..."
"Shut up! shut up! You gals are all the same, whether you are a barbet or a reddie! Even she gave me an earful when I went and nudged her for that worm! Man! What is this life?! When I was younger..."
"YOU NUDGED HER???????????????? How dare you.... that’s it. It's done. No more. No more I say"
"No, no, no....please dear... that was just a slip of the tongue....I didn’t nudge her! She did. I mean do you think I will go and ask her for anything? Let alone a worm? That too when I could have nudged you for the fruit? And man her red is nothing before your green I tell you"
"Really?.......dear, I misunderstood you for a second there...well I don’t think the reddie is so bad....I mean look at her family....though their parents are pale, she is real bright and her brother....hmm he is out of this world....did you notice how he flew right up to that eagle the other day to ward him off our area? And wow he can search a mean worm out the ground any day, raining or shining....and you know…”
"Oh? Really? Hmm maybe I will go learn from him. What do you say?"
"Ya sure, in fact let me come and practice as well. I can help you guys search worms then. Hmm. Oh god. I forgot. Look birdie is not there anymore. Come on hurry. Check on him. I need to go clean up feathers at the parlor now....."
The Pleasure of Pain
When I looked in to your eyes the first time
The time my soul kissed yours and melted in your embrace
No bells rang in my ears, no fireworks exploded
I felt only the violent shivers race up and down deep in my gut
When you held my hand the first time
There was absolutely no attraction physical or mental
Only recognition , the recognition of myself in you
The part that I was searching and missing and aching for
When I listened to the beat of your heart the first time
I found all that I hoped for and everything I dreaded
How will I convince you that you are me and I'm you
That we cannot be without each other
When I dived deep into your soul
I saw no love,no like, only the yearning
The yearning you have concealed from the world and yourself
I could see it, my dearest for I feel the same
When we danced to the tune of love
My mouth couldn't pick up the words
Only my eyes understood and my heart
That you are my mate without whom I shall cease toexist anymore
Come,my love, you need have no fear
I demand no worldly commitments from you
Only the promise to dance with me to the song of togetherness
That our souls have understood a long time ago
I give you the freedom to fly away and fade from my vision
You can have all that you desire and enjoy the earthly pleasures
But promise me that you will return one day
To carry me away to heaven or hell as you choose
For I shall be waiting,waiting,waiting and waiting....
Are You Me?
I always thought you are the leader
But when I want to lead, how come you follow?
I always thought you are the talker
But when I want to talk, how come you fall silent?
I always thought you are the stronger
But when I want to be, how come you turn weak?
I always thought you are the attracter
But when I start shining, how come you dim your lights?
I always thought you are the lover
But when I want to love, how come you become the loved?
I always thought you are the best
But when I want to be better, how come you are the good?
I always thought you are the passionate
But when I start feeling, how come you become the logic?
I always thought you are everything
But when I feel am nothing, how come you become me?
If you are me and I am you how come we ended up different...?
But when I want to lead, how come you follow?
I always thought you are the talker
But when I want to talk, how come you fall silent?
I always thought you are the stronger
But when I want to be, how come you turn weak?
I always thought you are the attracter
But when I start shining, how come you dim your lights?
I always thought you are the lover
But when I want to love, how come you become the loved?
I always thought you are the best
But when I want to be better, how come you are the good?
I always thought you are the passionate
But when I start feeling, how come you become the logic?
I always thought you are everything
But when I feel am nothing, how come you become me?
If you are me and I am you how come we ended up different...?
Holding Hands
Gazing into the distance, the memories come alive
The time of sitting closer, holding hands, hearts together
Beating to the common rythym of togetherness
When all the world fell down from deep within
There was no place for reality, only for things that really mattered
Facing each other, holding hands, dreading the time apart
Words were exchanged but no voices ever heard
Its just the love and life that flowed in and out
Emotions try to pour out, but the cloak of civilization intrudes
No space inbetween, holding hands, moving closer still
Till there was nothing left, except the union of the souls
All was exposed, noting left to hide, except maybe the need to hold hands forever !!
I have been searching for you
The flowers have started to bloom in my garden
The little birds have started to build their nest
The earth is full and rich with love to nurture life
And here I am, all alone, searching for you
The butterflies are dancing all around, singing and playing
The clouds have started to open up and the water is here to enrich life
Seeds are breaking open, new life is sprouting everywhere
And here I am, all alone, searching for you
The sun rises to bath the world in a happy glow
All insects and bugs have come out to relish without fear
The caterpillar has flown away as a fly to seek its treasure
And here I am, all alone, searching for you
The bees are quite happy and flit from flower to flower
The entire world is rosy with the promise of life
The spring is in the sir and love is everywhere
Yet here I am, all alone, searching for you
When will you be the sun to chase away my clouds
When will you be the rain to feed my starved earth
When will you be the rainbow to my white world
When will I ever stop searching for you
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Confounding!!
I came across this blog post on the case of missing pets and the inability to unite them back with their family. The first thing that came to my mind immediately after reading it is this. I know this contrasting exercise is stupid and what's more this reminds me of my own youthful self back in college - who cared more about animals and who was very vocal about her views of the importance given to animal rights versus human rights.
Now more than five years later I seem to have made a transition to favoring the other side of the argument. Maybe it's because am a parent now. Or maybe it is because of the slowly penetrating cynicism. No, let's call it maturity of thought (You know...like...."how stupid can humans get? Thinking they can put animals on leash and hold them forever from their true nature, freedom, etc"... or should it be "What loneliness can do to humans?). Or maybe it is a sign of spiritual advancement (ya, right!). Or maybe it is simply because I stay in this side of the world. Whatever. It just seems so strange how priorities and people are so different across continents. No wonder the NRIs hate coming back.
On another note, tagging pets show that you care what will happen to them if they go missing. But a different take on that makes me wonder why humans want to have pets at all. My saucy sister-in-law will probably quip "these pets will be abandoned or without homes otherwise". Now, tell me isn't this like the Hen and Egg story? You want pets, so you breed or rear more and more of them...and then you are constantly looking to find a home for the surplus population... and so on and so forth. Why on earth did man domesticize animals in the first place? Duh, his stupidity is so confounding!
Women 2.0 Summit, Bangalore
After Web2.0, Marketing 2.0, Research 2.0, Enterprise 2.0, it's finally time for Women 2.0! Thank god!
Ok!Ok! On a more serious note Women2.0 Summit is an event being organized in Bangalore on the 13th of March by SiliconIndia. A glance at the event's agenda looks very interesting. An impressive list of names feature as speakers, and the panel discussion topics seem even more appealing. I'm particularly thinking of attending the discussion on "The Women Entrepreneurs" between 3:30 to 4:00 PM. But the duration allotted (half an hour for this topic versus the one hour for the others) is kind of disappointing - would have loved it to be a longer session.
Anyway, I hope to be there on Friday. The registration fee is a smallish Rs.100/ though I did get an email offer for free entry from SiliconIndia. So all I need to do is muster up that enthusiasm and overcome that reluctance of going alone, and I should be there.
Let's see if my manager will grant me leave (not that it matters if I really want to attend the event!).
Ok!Ok! On a more serious note Women2.0 Summit is an event being organized in Bangalore on the 13th of March by SiliconIndia. A glance at the event's agenda looks very interesting. An impressive list of names feature as speakers, and the panel discussion topics seem even more appealing. I'm particularly thinking of attending the discussion on "The Women Entrepreneurs" between 3:30 to 4:00 PM. But the duration allotted (half an hour for this topic versus the one hour for the others) is kind of disappointing - would have loved it to be a longer session.
Anyway, I hope to be there on Friday. The registration fee is a smallish Rs.100/ though I did get an email offer for free entry from SiliconIndia. So all I need to do is muster up that enthusiasm and overcome that reluctance of going alone, and I should be there.
Let's see if my manager will grant me leave (not that it matters if I really want to attend the event!).
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Hopeless
Mornings are always a rush. Shweta hurried out of the house after a quick kiss on her baby’s cheeks and a quicker goodbye to her husband. Life is always difficult for a working mom and today seemed to be especially so. Clutching the brown hand bag with her right hand, and desperately trying to hold the flying dupatta with the other, she jogged down the street to its corner, the designated spot for pick and drop. Her mind lingered on the strong cup of coffee her husband prepared for her every day and she wished she could have had more time to enjoy it. Spotting the cab hurling down at full speed a few hundred meters away, she broke into a run and muttered a silent thanks to the man who woke her up every day on time. Her alarm clock, her husband.
After the regular hellos and smiles at the few others already in the cab, Shweta moved to her usual seat just behind the driver. Heaving a sigh of relief, she settled in for the next two-hour odd journey to her office in Whitefield. Leaning back against the dusty headrest, Shweta closed her eyes looking forward to the rest of the journey. Today would be interesting, she thought. Wonder what they will discuss? Will they be romantic and mushy or will they have their occasional tiffs? She couldn’t wait.
To while away the time before the duo got in, she took a thin book from her bag and stared at the cover for a moment. It was called “The billionaire’s ransom bride” and had an illustrated cover portraying a passionate lip lock between the hero and his bride. Blushing a little at the way the hero’s hand seemed to be clutching the petite lady’s bottom, she turned to the page where she had stopped yesterday to continue reading her dose of mills and boon for the day. She had always been a hopeless romantic and couldn’t tire of these 180-page books even after her marriage. You would think that the real thing would prove more exciting but for Shweta these books had always been more interesting than her own love life!
The cab continued on the route weaving its way through thick traffic like a drunken man running through a crowd. It stopped briefly a few kilometers away and Shankar from the IT support got in. Shweta immediately flopped her bag on the empty seat next to her and pretended to be engrossed in the book. After hesitating for a second, the guy reluctantly moved away into the back of the cab – he always looked forward to sitting with the pretty lady in the front seat but somehow she never seemed to want to! After ensuring that the flirt from support had moved to the back, Shweta snapped her book shut and returned it to the bag. It will just be a few more minutes now before their pick up point arrived. Tiny butterflies started dancing in her stomach and she tried to contain her excitement.
The girl got in first. She was dressed in a beautiful sleeveless white and pink chudhidar and loud accessories to match. In her hand, she carried two bags – one a beige handbag which can only be designer and in the other a Dora embellished bag like the lunch bags kids carry to school. Such a contrast, thought Shweta smiling sillily at the girl. The girl seemed not to notice and took the seat in line with Shweta’s on the other side. They always sat at the same place everyday which is why Shweta also always sought out the seat in front. She wondered if they belonged to the same project. The cab turned down a few more roads to the next pick up point and seeing that there was no one waiting at the spot, the driver pressed his feet harder on the accelerator.
The girl squeaked “Anna, wait maadiii…. bartha idare” (Wait, please…he is coming)
The cab driver braked hard to stop and after a nasty glance at the girl started drilling his hands on the steering wheel impatiently. The clock seemed to tick loudly and everybody waited looking out the windows and door. Suddenly, the girl started smiling, and gesturing to some one in the street. Like the hero in a movie climax, Shashank Gowda ran full tilt and jumped into the cab.
Grinning widely, Shanshank took the seat opposite Shweta next to the girl in pink and white.
“Hi Shweta” he said turning sideways to look at Shweta “Thindi aytha?” (Had breakfast?)
“No, no time!” Shweta turned to smile at Shashank. “Yours?”
“Oh yes” replied Shashank moving back to lean in his seat.
With another silly smile, Shweta turned back to the front and closed her eyes, pretending to sleep for the rest of the journey. If her ears twitched a couple of times to hear better, the couple seated a few distance away seemed not to notice.
“Hello madam….” Shashank murmured in a near whisper “How are we today?”
“I thought you were not coming….. You gave me a scare, the driver almost didn’t stop, you know?” said the girl ignoring his question.
“Oh sorry. I will call you tomorrow if I get late, ok? Then you can tell the driver before hand” Shashank replied.
“Hmm” she said moving slightly to adjust her dupatta. Her bare arms brushed against Shashank’s and both of them fidgeted a little conscious of their proximity in the small space that was supposed to be a two-seater.
“So Div, what did you prepare today?” questioned Shashank.
Oh, her name is Divya, thought Shweta opening her eyes. She had forgotten! Nice name…. Shashank and Divya went well…. didn’t they? She wondered if Divya will take Shashank’s last name if they get married. Divya Gowda…. how does that sound? Hmm, not that great. Hearing them continue, she scolded herself mentally for not paying attention and closed her eyes again.
“Tomato rice” Divya replied, “Want to taste?”
“No, its okay. You won’t have any left for lunch if I open that box now” Shashank said shaking his head.
“Oh” Divya said disappointed. “I thought you liked Tomato…. that’s what you said yesterday!”
“Oh yes, I love them. Ok I changed my mind. Give me the box.” grinned Shashank.
The smell of fried onions, cooked and ripe tomatoes mixed with southern masalas assaulted Shweta’s nose within a few moments making her mouth water. Can Divya cook well? Would she have used the easy pressure cooker method to make the Tomato rice or would have painstakingly cooked the gravy and rice separately? Nah, it must be the former. No one would have the time to prepare the elaborate way in the mornings! And looking at the way the girl dressed up with matching earrings, bangles and even bindhi to boot, she must have surely done it the easy way. Lucky girl, no kid and husband to manage….
“How is it? Like it”? Divya questioned.
“This is delicious, you cook so well” murmured Shashank flatteringly relishing the huge mouthful he had stuffed his mouth with.
Guys can be so crude at times talking with mouth full and all that. How unsightly it must look to Divya thought Shweta. Jeez, hope she doesn’t mind crass guys otherwise Shashank will never stand a chance of hooking her!
“Thanks! Glad you like it” Divya said blushing a little, “I will prepare it in another way and get it tomorrow. It will taste really different but still nice… and it is much faster – I would just have to pressure cook the rice, tomato, and masalas together…”
“Wow, you seem like an expert cook. Even I love cooking….. Though my mom never allows me inside the kitchen. She says I make a mess” Shashank said spooning another mouthful of the delicious looking tomato rice.
“Listen…. maybe you know…. we should kind of meet up a weekend and you can teach me how to make this tomato rice….? I would love to learn…. this is so delicious… my mom can never make anything like this” continued Shashank closing the by-now empty box and handing it over to Divya.
Just then the cab driver took a steep right turn without a leg on the brakes. Sometimes, he thinks of himself as a race motorist. The cab driver. Cursing him mentally, Shweta tried to steady herself from going out the window.
Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Divya desperately trying to do the opposite clinging to the windows but momentum and gravity seemed to push her to lean hard against Shashank. Her right hand seemed to come up automatically and clutched Shashank and remained there just a bit longer than necessary long after the cab completed the turn.
Oooooh, God! Are they at the next stage already? thought Shweta trying to remember what that anthropologist Desmond Morris spoke of in his book “The Naked Ape” about the stages leading to copulation.
“Sure…..” Divya replied taking her box back from Shashank and keeping it in her lunch bag.
“Hey, new bag?” Shashank inspected the character printed on the bag “Who is this? New cartoon?”
“You don’t know? That’s Dora?” Divya proudly pronounced, “She is all the rage these days. Kids love her… and the monkey next to her is Boots”
“Wow, you seem to have learned all about them………… along with….”
Nice trick Shashank. But you need to be a little more subtle than that. I can spot your interest a mile away and Divya may find you too fast worried Shweta. She hoped not. Over the last few weeks, she had listened in on their conversations unashamedly and had come to look forward to the cab ride every morning. Her novel faded in comparison to the live love story that was developing in front of her eyes. And the desperate “happily ever after” seeker that she is, she imagined all their back and forths must be because of their interest in each other.
“Along with Kriya” continued Shashank “So how come you are carrying her lunch bag”
Hey, wait a sec. Who is this Kriya? Shweta had never heard that name mentioned before.
“Well, Kriya had to stay back at home today because she has a bad cold. My husband is looking after her…… so I took her bag! After all she takes my stuff all the time” answered Divya.
Shweta eyes popped open and she saw Shashank grinning down at Divya telling her something. They both laughed out loud. Shweta couldn’t believe her eyes or ears. She couldn’t believe her own stupidity. The loud honks from the traffic suddenly increased in volume and seemed to drown out every other noise. A bike screeched to a halt next to the cab that had just stopped for a red light. The pillion rider, a young girl, fell on the bike rider and immediately gave him a sound whack on his shoulder. Shweta could not hear what she said but she seemed to be affectionately chiding the guy in the front.
Dejected and disappointed, Shweta turned away and took out her mills and boon from the bag. She tried to muster up interest in the hot chemistry sizzling in the pages between the tall hero and his petite heroine. Well, at least these guys are predictable, she sighed.
Naan Kadavul
I watched the Tamil movie Naan Kadavul two weeks back. It was simply super dooper fabulous to say the least....and the best movie I have seen in sometime. Admittedly, it does showcase the harsher side of life - so if you are the kind who cant bear to take it then maybe you should stay away. I am planning to write a review soon - perhaps as a way to thank the Naan Kadavul team. I hope I get to it!
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