8.10.09

Window Woman

I saw her from the window sill,
Up and down and never still.
Short brown hair and big brown eyes,
Pearls and suede, mmm..very nice.
Now a vision to my eyes,
Now not, it happened twice.
Restless and a little anxious she seemed,
Eagerly awaiting someone I deemed.

Behind her stood a yellow shade,
Maybe in Taiwan, in China made.
And it glowed in perfection bright,
Oh! The picture under, what a sight!
Three little children in colors of fall,
Two naughty boys and a girl with a doll.
Crinkled eyes and gaps in teeth,
Mischief and innocence weaved in a wreath.
The sun shone down on their little backs,
She seemed to see the picture and relax.

She stood by her window for a moment too long,
Were those tears I saw?! She seemed to be strong.
She arranged and then rearranged the flowers,
The table, tablecloth and the lil clock tower.
At the sound of a passing car she would brighten,
When it went past her window her, her features, tightened.
Maybe she was impatient, maybe sad,
Whatever it was, I felt bad.

So I stayed in the shadows and watched her wait,
Whoever she was waiting for, was obviously late.
The sunlight in my room softened and faded,
The window woman was clearly jaded.
Drawn to my very own chores was I,
So I drew the blinds with a heavy sigh.
Late at night when the stars were out,
And the moon looked plump and stout.
I went to my window sill again,
The window woman had my affection, that was plain.

Under the very same shade she sat,
Bestowed a peck now and then and a pat.
Stranger to my eyes though she was,
Her joy to me had passed.
The three little rascals around her were,
To her stories like kittens they purred.
It brought a tear to my eye, this.
Granny and her grandchildren, oh bliss!
So they were the reason the window she had adorned,
And now with their love and giggles she was crowned.

5.9.09

MBA

Seen on a T-shirt this morning:

"MBA - Master of Bad Activities" =D

4.8.09

The Reminder of Memories

I have one very crooked tooth. I always knew this, but today, it dawned on me. As I felt its crookedness, I realized that it felt a lot more crooked than I have known and a lot more than it looks like. And this reminded me of Sister Judith. Because she is the Causer of My Crooked Tooth.

When I was really little, I used to carry my little ABC, 123 and coloring books in my little colorful bag. This, I used to carry, drag or both to the sisters' convent in the primary school of Cluny. Once I reached the convent, I used to tip toe, yes, even at the age of six, I was tip toeing and trying to escape her penetrating eyes and finding the piano farthest away from her room and closest to the exit.

Sister Judith. I think she is a Keralite, but I had no idea then. Because she was so light-skinned and spoke differently from the regular Pondicherry crowd, I assumed that she was a foreigner. She was and is the strictest (and one of the best) teachers I have ever been student to! Now, I'd have gone and searched and searched and finally have found the perfect grand piano that would save my rear side for the day, but she'd hunt me down. Oh boy! I used to shiver at her very voice! She would then, proceed to shoo me to the main room, which was her teaching room and office. Come to think of it, I think the room was an oxymoron of my state of mind and guts those evenings when Sister J took special interest in my piano skills.

The room had a ceiling so high, that my six year old eyes would roll behind the sockets trying to take in its enormity. It was painted white. Pristine, pure, peaceful white, with a just, ever so slight, imperceptible, diluted beyond recognition blue. And it emanated freshness. You'd just want to kick your slippers, slip into a sarong, play Norah Jones and sip lemonade! That fresh. Directly behind the piano was Sis J's work table with pens, paper clips, papers and sundries lying in lazy abandon (to my eyes). To the piano's right was a black bookshelf. It gleamed, it sparkled and when the evening sun shone through the enormous windows behind the work table, it would soak in all the warmth. I feel like hugging that bookshelf now. To the left, and just next to it, were two doors, each leading to other piano rooms, usually used by the senior players (my seniors, the seven and eight year olds!).

Sometimes, when she was busy, or traveling, Sis J would assign the senior children (the teenagerish ones!) to assist us in our practice. But most of the times, she was there, stick in hand, her white habit as white as the room and a cross hanging around her neck on a deep blue chain. Those days, I'd almost pass out at the sight of her, but now, when I think of it, I realize that her eyes were always twinkling! They were mischievous, naughty and screamed I-know-what-you're-upto-you-little-imp-and-I-also-know-you're-scared-stiff-of-me!!

If I was scared of Sis J, I was petrified of her sticks. They were as big as a drummer’s stick, maybe that’s exactly what they were. She had two of those, one was a deep brown, bordering on maroon shade and the other was a lighter brown. Both were my arch nemeses. Now, I was quite dramatic as a child. Ok, more dramatic than what I am right now! So, every time I’d open the piano, I felt like one of those old, 70s heroines with elaborate buns, more elaborate eyebrows and very pretty fingers. And I’d play the piano like them. Up and down, up and down my wrists would go, as I played “Old Mc Donald had a farm” to my imaginary 70s hero! Oh the pain of a broken fantasy. Wham, would come the stick! And I wonder how she knew exactly what I was thinking when Sis J told me to stop acting like those heroines and play the piano the way it’s to be played. Oh boy, after that, every time, she took classes for me, the stick hovered right above my knuckles and sometimes when I used to space off right in the middle of the lesson, they’d come crashing down.

But, she had a special interest in teeth I think, because, both my brother and I have experienced her Deliverer of Milk Teeth role. She had told my brother that if he let her pull his tooth out and planted it in her rose pot, the rose would turn out more beautiful than ever. So that’s what the dude did, and later plucked the rose as rightfully his and had to flee the premises in panic. The Obsessor of Roses wanted his blood!

And it was Sis J who had pulled out my tooth and warned me against fiddling with the gap (which I ignored, of course) and now I am the Bearer of the Crooked Tooth.

I miss Sis J. I don’t know where she is or what she’s doing now. The year after my classes, we had to move town. I knew her for just a year, but the impact she’s had on me...!! After me, I’m sure there were hundreds and hundreds of lucky, blessed, fortunate Cluny girls whom she took under her tutorage and made them play the piano like REAL musicians.

I hope wherever she is, she is holding on to the sticks and scaring the living life out of some other six year old!!

If.......

.........the maroon Tata Safari's honk, that lasted a ear drum numbing, brains exploding, eyes popping, earth reveberating, hair frizzing seven seconds could speak, I'd have been offended. Very. Offended.

3.8.09

Making Oxy, a moron.

Add cloves to my food and keep me in the dark. Regarding the cloves. Not me, like me.

31.7.09

The flexibility of lips (and tongues and larynxes and others)

If we were to find the perfect mate for Britain’s very famous stiff upper lip, you’d have to head towards the Bay of Bengal and come directly to South India. Stiff upper lip, meet Oh- so-flexible- that- loses- shape- and- collapses lip + tongue + larynx! Sparks fly, chemistry happens!

The place where I worked, in Edinburgh, was called mini India and for good reason. The evenings were filled with the sounds of ‘kaadha’ – telegu, ‘arrreeeyyy – hindi’ and (ewwww) ‘ok VA?’ – Tamil (will get back to this later). Most of the students found the work timings perfect and ‘most of the students’ being Indians, it was a great unity in diversity thing out there! (In fact once there was this huge row, because there was an India-Pakistan match going on, on one channel (yeah, we could watch TV at work!) and a Man U –some other team match on another one....ooh, the tension was palpable!)

Scottish names are pretty easy to pronounce, at least for us who roll the tongue in every possible dimension and the impossible dimensions too (try saying vaazhai pazham!). Our mother tongues are pretty complex as they are, combined with the necessity to be bi-lingual in our country, I think we can pronounce just about anything in this world (in our own accents of course.... ‘gelf’ anyone?!) But most of the natives I met, knew just one language. Petttre*. So, owing to some not so flexible upper lips, there were ‘Lacks mes’, ‘Shredderzhs’, ‘Vick has’s’ and many many more!

Coming back to the point, so, one day, my friend at work (yeah, she’s south Indian) hurriedly calls me and says, “Yuvan’s** looking for you”. I get all excited thinking that I’m finally going to get my break in the Tamil Film industry. Not sure if she perceived that or whether I had a puzzled look on my face, she said “Yuvan, Yuvan, that guy, who sits there” I was a little shocked (and disappointed =D) but the Yuvan guy had gone for a break, so I just went about doing my own work (and sulking a little!) when another Southie friend casually passes by and says, “Ivan wants to see you”. Before I could smartly answer that I was already seeing someone, this friend of mine jerked his head in the direction of ‘Ivan’. Which happened to be the exact direction of ‘Yuvan’. And in Yuvan/Ivan’s seat, sat my colleague ‘Ewan Scott’!! (Ok, I’ll confess that I had to ask the guy how in the world I pronounce his first name, before I got it right!!) It’s Ew as in you and an as in un – Ewan! Yuvan. Ivan. Now make your tongue touch the tip of your nose.

Now, to imagine Ewan singing “merke merke”***!!



*Tamil slang for English
**Yuvan Shankar Raja is a well known Tamil music director
*** merke merke is a famous tamil song composed by Yuvan Shankar Raja

30.7.09

Cartoons

About seventeen years ago (oh boy...!!), in the month of November, we all were pretty silly and stupid. Especially Tublu*. Seriously.

It was my birthday and I was soooooo excited! Mom was preparing 'kesari' (fav fav!) and there was a nice cake waiting for me to slaughter! So there we were, me, all decked up and pseudo grinning (not letting my upper lip touch my lower lip- I was wearing LIPSTICK!!), two blobs of bright pink on either cheekbone, same bright pink on eyelids ...you get the drift... my brother, Tublu and this kocha kocha group of giggling, yelling, playing ball in the house kids! I was turning nine, oooooh nine!!


Due to some culinary issues, the party was getting delayed, and though I was supposed to wait until after the birthday bash to open my gifts, I couldn’t bear the suspense! So, when my folks weren’t looking, me, surrounded by the rest of the restless kids (especially Tublu) opened the first one! It was from my parents and was a book (sigh...I know!) that said "CARTOONS" in big letters. The cover had a picture of a person, manipulating a stick figure to change the position of its hands. I understand what that meant now, but then....anyways, Tublu saw the 'CARTOONS' and began giggling, I really didn’t see the joke, and could empathize with the emperor in 'The Emperor's New Clothes'! So we open the book and go to Chapter One. Tublu does the honors and reads it out aloud "Learning to draw cartoons is really simple and easy" and this guy begins giggling again, "Oh didi, this is so funny". And we all laughed with him (being the oldest one in the group no license to being the smartest). And we laughed hard. In fact, Tublu had tears in his eyes. We gooses were laughing at How to draw 'CARTOONS', just because it said ‘CARTOONS’.


*Tublu is Tublu’s nickname
*Tublu is 6 years old at this party

16.7.09

Belling the Cat!!!!

I think everyone at work should wear bells around their neck!

Last I knew, we were still human beings (Terminator Salvation effect! The only thing I loved about the movie was the person I snuggled up to in the seat beside me!) We’re definitely not coded to work eight hours (or more) cooped up in front of a computer. More so, it’s inhuman to expect us to be work-related geared every moment of the stipulated work time. After a long pause and a * I think I just put my foot in my mouth look* - Right?

I’m easily bored, as was my condition when the incident that inspired the first sentence occurred. Having been bitten by the abstract designs bug, I’ve been trying to learn Photoshop to create my own, I must be pretty keen on this thing, because, when my HR colleague walked in to my cubicle to introduce me to a new intern from my team, all three of us were pretty shocked to see multihued leaves, fill effected fruits and a strange looking grey tree trunk (with shadow effect) adorning my screen, on a PowerPoint presentation that is technically supposed to be home to sales forecasts charts and market share pie charts.

The lady (HR) introduced me to the gentleman (new intern) with a grin while the intern took a double take at my screen! After saying goodbye (which I initiated for obvious reasons) it was a clear minute before the blood rushed to my face and I felt embarrassed! But it was only an hour later, that I realized that I remembered neither the intern’s face nor his name! {Got me thinking whether this had something to with age, given the fact that I reached my peak, four years ago (apparently!)}

So, that’s why I think bells around the neck would be a great idea!

Oh, by the way, my ‘thing’ for abstract designs began with me buying a box of acrylic paints and delving into a world that, pertaining to me, can be aptly described by the phrase ‘SO not talented whatsoever’! But ‘who encouraged, motivated’!!! Armed with that pat on my back, I began my journey (virtually, of course) and stumbled upon (as opposed to stumbleupon) some really awesome websites that I’d like to share! These two I visit almost every day!

Its Pretty Good - It really is!
Design Sponge – Their DIY section makes me feel like a kid in a candy store!

I recently made Banana Dosa- Sanjay Thumma’s,recipe (a.k.a Vah Chef). If you haven’t seen this guy on youtube, or the latest Bingo Mad Angles ad, you must do so! His recipes are easy, the videos filled with funny trivia and he loves what he cooks (and says so!). Try it with Tamarind Chutney (for the sweet with the sour effect). Mom thought on a scale of ten I just passed (British marking system...hehehehe!) but I think for a first timer I did pretty well!

CM-Chap, thank you for the nudge!

13.3.09

Thank you Mr. Berners-Lee!!!

Was it just twenty years ago that a landline was an 'in' thing?! Was it just twenty years ago that inland letters were quick enough? Was it twenty years ago that anything dot com would have been met with a blank stare? The world is celebrating the world wide web's twentieth year in existence, today! (Thank you Mr Berners-Lee!) and I'm joining in!!

My first foray into the web was thanks to my brother, some twelve years ago! I still remember, we used to pay Rs.30-Rs.40 an hour (some cafes charged that for half hour) and I used to simply sit beside him, bored out of my wits, while he searched (not sure if it was Google that he used) for pictures of bikes, cars and then some minuscle studies related stuff (the original excuse behind the funds for this adventure! )

I only occasionally gave in to peer pressure during my teenage years, and the time I saw everyone rattle off email IDs (cuteflower@watever.com, findmeifyoucan@creepy.com etc etc) was one of them! I begged my brother to create one for me. So he told me that there was something called a yahoo and that my 'email ID' was myname@yahoo.com. Armed with this cool thing, one day, like a know-it-all (yes yes, sometimes that disease afflicted me too!!), I walked into this net cafe, asked for a computer and then in vain, let me emphasise here, ABSOLUTE VAIN, tried to access my emails. After about half an hour, I was a very very irate customer wanting 'the internet to be fixed' and value for my 30 rupees!!!

Its still difficult to forget the look on the person's face when he came upto my computer. He asked me if I were trying to access my emails, on affirming, he moved the cursor to the address bar, deleted the 'myname@yahoo.com' that was typed there and said, you can't really type your email ID on the address bar.......pause.........ma'am and proceeded to explain the 'sane' way of accessing emails!!!

Definitely, it's been a long time!!! Now look at me, I'm all internet savvy and have multiple email IDs (several overflowing with junk), work for a company that is entirely web based, watch TV on the internet AND *dreamy sigh* thanking God for social networking!!

Happy Birthday Internet!!! We all love you!!

7.3.09

Not so pretty

I'm a pretty patient person. Seriously. I don’t get too bothered if I miss the green light at the signal by a micro second, I am pretty calm even when all the steppers are taken by the men and boys in the aerobics class and we girls and women are left with zilch. Yes, I am a patient lass.

Of course there are things that test my patience like none else. Like the clock inching towards 1.00pm (lunch time..hehe), like Thangam aunty (the lady who helps us with house cleaning) repeating the same thing at least twenty times, just so she can drive her point home, like, know-it-alls, like condescending creeps.

But, there are some things, which are beyond the realm of 'patience'. Some things which make me experience physiological changes (blood boiling, nerves throbbing, knuckles itching to punch). Like chauvinists (the real kinds, not the ones who pretend to be so, just to tease), like......I think I'd like to explain this one.


One of the best things about the eight hours at work (if that) is the smell of freshly ground filter coffee making everyone in the Fourth Floor, South Wing, a bunch of happy (and high?!) yuppies. Today, I was standing near the coffee machine, behind a few ladies getting their shares of teas and coffees, when the door to the South Wing opened and 'she' walked in. Now, I'm not going to explain her in any intricate details, but I'll tell you this- if there had been a guy there, he would have had a tough time keeping his eyes off her! What I noticed however, was the absolutely enchanting perfume and the obviously expensive pair of jeans she was wearing.


Of course, we know that light travels faster than sound and that's why we see the explosion before we hear it. Something to a similar effect happened when she said that one word - 'Tea'. Which brings me back to what had me start this narrative- things that are beyond the realm of patience - she had cut the queue. I wasn't as angry as I was shocked (which reminded me of Vivek's "jeans pota mangaatha'!!!) And I thought, queue cutting happened only in the grocery shop mom and I frequent every week or the petrol station. No, I didn't say anything to her (when it comes to queue cutting, I am usually a stickler for speaking my mind!) I think its one thing to say that in a grocery shop, with several kilos of vegetables and fruits weighing you down and another to say it with a coffee mug. Still, somewhere, it pinches. One thing is for sure, my misconception that education subtly infuses courtesy in those who have none, has been cleared.


I guess, just like common sense, even courtesy is not so common.

27.2.09

Praying from the heart!

Dear God,
I pray for my sister's public exams, that she passes them, for my brother's Maths, Science, Social Studies, English, French subjects, that he passes them, for my *shudder* Hindi, Maths, Science, English 1, English 2 and my annual exam that I pass them. I also pray for mummy and daddy's good health. Please give us loooottttts of wealth. Amen. Oh. Wait. And for Ashika akka, who is my cousin sister. Amen. (in the background, the public exam writing sister - giggling at the extempore prayer, the all the subjects issues having brother- yawning, the afterthought cousin sister- staring at the prayer-er whose eyes were eerily only 89% closed).

But as always, an evening spent with the kids leaves me happy happy! And comforted, knowing that its only a matter of time before I become the slim one in the family-and not just because of my work outs!!

7.2.09

Road signs

Ever been shown the finger?

There are a million interpretations of this one crude gesture, each one funnier (or cruder, to the humorless) than the other! As a teenager, fresh as a dew drop, when I witnessed the malicious 'finger', I was unaffected, innocent as I was, like a dove! However, a few days later, when curiosity got the better of me, through earlier enlightened peers, the intended sentiment was gleefully revealed!!

Recently, I've noticed people venting their anger and emotions on the road. Road rage is probably one of the easiest ailments to affect you, if driving on Chennai roads. Some drivers are simply not human beings. And the bus drivers...if you've seen Ice Age 2, you'll remember the lady mammoth (Ellie) who thinks she is an opossum and hangs from a tree. As do the MTC bus drivers. Its hilarious to see them try to slip through a 'cycle gap'!! So, given the fact that we are all racing at 40/60/80/100 kmph on roads that are overflowing with vehicles and since its difficult to convince a bus driver that he is a 'bus' driver, irate commuters have taken to 'showing the hand'!!

Not as rude as the finger, but intended in a similar fashion, the hand is a trademark, road user's finger. It could mean anything. From 'what do you think you're doing' to 'if I ever see you face to face, without the helmet'. From 'you silly goose on the bike' to 'have you told your people at home - (This is a classic Tamil one!)'. Not limited to any particular genre of people, it's freely used by men, women and children. By cyclists, two wheeler riders, auto rickshaw drivers, car drivers, bus drivers, share auto drivers, pedestrians, traffic police, just about everyone!!

Behind my shades, snug in a Wrangler helmet, while stuck in a traffic jam, watching the signal turn from red to green at least thrice, its quite entertaining to watch evolution in reverse.

21.1.09

Bluests

There are several reasons,
For a girl to sulk.
It could be the seasons,
Or just life in a bulk.

The deep red of the plum,
Would be a nice life color
The girl, but she's glum,
And she's got a pallor.

She wonders if its age,
Or if its just a phase.
A moment its rage,
The other - tears on her face.

Is she crazy or a fool?
She wonders nowadays
She used to be cool,
This lady in the phase.

She's got nice things,
And love and all.
Yet she swings,
To this melancholic ball.

She tries to remember,
Those who have less.
Who shiver in December,
Without a warm dress.

So what's wrong with her,
This silly dilly girl.
Where occurred the err?
For which her thoughts swirl?

What would make her happy?
And get her lips to curl?
To remove this mood so crappy,
The flags of smiles to unfurl?

If truth be told,
I'll tell you this.
Neither diamond or gold,
Will give her that bliss.

What could be the reason?
For my untold woes?
Is it really the season?
Or what the deuce?!

Agendas and winning

When my children were toddlers, I had a quote stuck on my shelf which read, “When we lose our agendas, everybody wins.” At that time I was j...