sattva

an organisation called ikageng

2009-01-12T09:42:00.000-08:00

an acronym for SOuth-WEstern TOwnships, soweto is nothing like i expected it to be. after all i'd heard about it, i was anticipating a "dharavi-like" spread of kachcha slums, no roads, insane filth and acute poverty.

but what did i find? a sprawling maze of roads that is actually better than many of the main roads in mumbai. a network of pukka homes, which are small but decent, with concrete walls and brick/concrete roofs. a few patches of slums that resemble the blue-plastic -covered dwellings in mumbai, but these are few and far between. many many cars. and, hold your breath, the largest mall (yes, mall) in the country.

the people do not appear impoverished or under-nourished. children are not quite the naked, bloated-belly and snot-nosed variety often depicted on TV. the youth are fashionable, even.

after my initial surprise and confusion, i realised i felt a sense of indignation. people here sympathise with THIS, when the poverty in india, especially mumbai, is so much more abject? i'm supposed to feel moved or affected by this, when i'm amazed that the main roads here provide for a bump-free and spacious drive, a luxury in bombay. no, i didn't. no, i don't.

and yet, what really moved me was the spirit of the people i met. a lady called 'mum carol', who has taken under her wing 2000 HIV orphans and is tirelessly providing them with more than the bare necessities. having started out with 6, her organisation has grown remarkably, and one can see why. who would not donate generously to a woman of such unwavering dedication, continual commitment and steely nerves? HIV orphans are growing at a shocking pace in this part of the world, and to think that mum carol simply decided that enough was enough, the kids need help, and did remarkable stuff with them. she got them enrolled in schools, got them their daily bread, paid for the funerals that happen very often in their extended families and most importantly, gave them a sense of belonging.

and some of the kids themselves are simply amazing . r, especially. you called me a dynamite, but it is you who is far more deserving of admiration. i'm coaching these children, but they are the ones who have opened up windows in my mind.

thank you ikageng for giving me the opportunity to share your lives and partake of your inspiration.

for the ghost who talks

2009-01-03T06:59:00.000-08:00

it's time to write, GOTJ said
so here i am, trying to get around my head
these old streets with new names
smilingly thinking of all that was read
right here, 2 years ago.
as i struggle
with my rusted knack
for the random rhyme
i feel lame and slack,

but who knows what the year will bring
and the pretty songs that our hearts may sing.

PS: to all the old-timers: hope all is well in your worlds.

2008-02-13T07:52:00.000-08:00

all this time, you were a part of me. now, you are a little person. a separate being. with your own volition, intention and understanding. and it tears me up inside.

i see you being pushed by another, and i want to protect you. then i think, you must learn to protect yourself. you scream at him, and stand up. and you're back in the game. i am so proud of you. sometimes, i see you fight me, i cannot force you to sleep. then i wonder, what really is influence? where is the line between letting you be your own person and me staying my own? i see in you an independence so fierce and a spirit so luminous that i can only be humbled by it.

i hope the path laid out for you is pure gold. i hope that i can pick out the brambles that obstruct your way. maybe, i should hope instead that you discern them and pick them out yourself. and may i learn attachment and detachment.

as if nothing has happenend

2008-02-04T12:36:00.000-08:00

a friend of mine was trying to mend her little girl's toy. she struggled a bit with it, and before long her 2 year old daughter goes "mama, papa will do it. you can't do it. it's too hard for you". can only imagine the mama's shattered self-esteem!

why don't they have 'parenting' as a subject in school? fine, not school. college?

the mummy returns

2007-04-11T07:49:00.000-07:00

with pun intended please! i have begun this post numerous times. each time i've had to discontinue thanks to my inability to become superwoman :( now i know why the goddess has multiple pairs of hands.

now that m is more than 3 months old and last night slept a record 6 hours straight, i am feeling more like a 'normal' human being. no matter what anyone says, nothing, and i mean nothing, can prepare you for the three months after your first baby arrives. i had grand plans of resuming swimming after the 1st month. i was mental. through and through.

so coming back to NOW. m smiles a lot and is very interactive. he's FINALLY big enough for me to swing him in the air. i can't wait for him to be slightly bigger so i can throw him up and catch him, and then even bigger so i can sit him on my shoulders, and then even more so i can chase him around the house. and then he shouldn't grow any more :)

and "where have all the bloggers gone"?

anecdotes

2007-02-08T03:40:00.000-08:00

a friend came over to meet m with her daughters, aged 4 (A) and 6 years (S).

S: he's so cute.
me: thank you...and what do you think (i ask the 4 year old)?
A: i don't like him.
me (amused): why not?
A: because he's so little.
me: yeah..that's true.
A: can he walk?
me: no, not yet.
A: why? he has legs so why can't he walk?
me: ummm...

a little later, after m had a bawling bout -

S: why does he cry?
me: he can't talk, so he cries when he has to say something, eg, if he's hungry.
S: if he can cry, why can't he talk?

answers, anybody?

___________________________________________________________________________

we took m shopping. at some point, the new daddy decided that he wanted to do 'men things' with his son and give the two women (my mum and myself) time to do our own thing. so he went to 'media markt', a haven for electronic-geeks. mum and i went to a cafe and chatted. we met up with the 'men' after some time, and s looked completely psyched. before i could ask, he said:

"so i'm having a wonderful time looking around at gadgets, and m is very well-behaved. he sleeps throughout, while i choose dvds and other stuff. when i reach the counter to pay, he wakes up and whimpers. i peep into his stroller, smile and say sh-sh, and continue my attempt to manage the bulky carton with the printer and all the other stuff i bought. the next thing i know, m is howling. REALLY loudly. so i put everything down, and pick him up and try to comfort him. he cries even louder. by now, people are staring..some giving me really pitiful looks, others glaring. and there are these 2 indian-looking guys close-by and i hear one of them say 'arre iski ma kidhar hai?'

more rambling. read at your own risk.

2007-01-10T11:26:00.000-08:00

the thing about becoming a new parent is that really, nobody else has the patience or the interest to hear you gush except for your spouse. so a typical conversation about the entire event and about m goes like this:

x: so, how is the new mommy doing?
what i say: very well, thanks...quite tired, but still very well.

what i want to say: i'm doing super and terrible at the same time. super, because the feeling is simply out of this world. i thought getting married was the best thing, but this is way better! terrible, because when my baby cries and i have no clue why, or i can't help him, it feels like shit. i mean, he's SO tiny and helpless and can't even say what he feels. once you know he isn't hungry, dirty or sleepy, you really are clueless. is he just doing drama? is it discomfort/pain due to gas? it's really heart-wrenching to see him bawl and not know why. but you know, nobody warned me that the first few days after the delivery can be quite tough. sure i knew it would be a bit uncomfortable, but nobody told me that it can be really painful to even pee, forget walking. you can't exactly leap out of bed and leap back in when you want, like i wanted to when the baby made the slightest sound. after the fairly healthy pregnancy i had, i was really upset and irritated that i couldn't, especially because people always spoke about how the birthing process is so painful, but nobody talked of the pain after that! also, nobody told me that breast-feeding is really not a joy-ride...not at the start at least. why do women not tell other women these things...it's a conspiracy! of course, all this is not a patch on actually becoming a mom.

x: and how is m?
what i say: he is just lovely. of course he cries really loudly and i don't always know why, but he's just adorable.

what i want to say: he is SOOOOOO cute. you know, the pediatrician said he has a really strong neck and is one of those babies with naturally well-toned muscle (whatever that means for a newborn!!!!!). and he has some priceless expressions. and big fat eyes, when he opens them, that is! and he doesn't look like either of us...he just looks like himself. and so ON.

x: and s must be so excited.
what i say: oh yeah...he is thrilled, naturally.

what i want to say: you know, i'm seeing sides to him i never even knew existed. he is so gentle with m, and so involved.not just the nappy-changing and putting him to bed. he talks to him and is actually quite mental...one of the first things he has tried teaching m is "force is equal to mass into acceleration", can you believe it! hilarious! never mind that i tried teaching him the gita, but trying to teach him physics of all things! and s carries m's snaps with him. i've always teased him that he never carries my snap in his wallet like a true romantic would. of course, for m, he does...isn't that sweet?

x: so how did the labour go?
what i say: actually, not as bad as i thought. very long and very hard, but still not like i thought i was going to die. some moments, i even managed to have fun.

what i want to say: it was insane! you know, we wanted our baby to come between dec 18th-20th instead of 28th, just so that s could get more leave. and 18th afternoon, s sms-ed me saying tell the baby it's time for contraction no. 1. as if the baby was going to do that...and you'll never believe it, but the pain started 18th night, after s returned from munich. it's as if we willed him to wait for s to return, and then come! what an obedient child..now he better stay that way! post midnight, we marched into the hospital. s was practically delirious with joy, and i was ridiculously calm and excited at once. and then the labour went on and on...and s played some music that i wanted and kept cracking jokes, which was counter-productive, because it hurt me more to laugh! and then he did the breathing exercises with me, that helped. s of course was completely disappointed that i didnt claw him and draw blood or hurl abuses at him...no such melodrama, just me breathing slowly and steadily. and i had these cool indoor slippers that looked like cows and made everyone smile and so i had to smile back. and finally when the pain got really bad, s couldn't see me go through it and insisted upon the epidural...i was too exhausted to argue, and i'm glad i didn't :) and they gave me the baby as soon as he came into the world, and i was like, oh my GOD! and they took him away right after that for the APGAR test, and then i saw s walking back into the room holding the baby...OUR baby. it was such fun. and then...AND this...AND that...

hurrah!

2007-01-02T04:53:00.000-08:00

i'm a MOMMY!!!! and it feels super :)

thank you all, for your kind words and wishes. the oxytocin in my body is still pumping...so despite the fatigue and serious sleep-deprivation, i am still smiling to myself at the miracle of it all. our son m is already 2 weeks old, and i have to really hold myself back from launching into a long post about how very adorable he is.

at this moment, i am gush and mush personified. so will spare you all...but only for now :)

hope all is well in your worlds. and may the new year give wings to your dreams.

PS: what did you all do to celebrate? needless to say, i was changing diapers.

for my godchild A

2006-12-08T08:20:00.000-08:00

may you live
the pure and sacred
and the compassion
you are named after

may you be freed
like in the myth
of all evil

and may virtue
find its home
in your heart

s & r: our deepest love and joy for your precious.

"it all makes perfect sense"

2006-12-06T00:39:00.000-08:00

for yesterday:

"food is served gums".

-------------------------------------------

and for tomorrow:

to my albert pinto
my inspiration
my frustration
my entertainment
my despair
my 'limelight'
my 'kumbaya'
my man
and my boy

"kabhi neem-neem, kabhi shehed-shehed
kabhi naram-naram, kabhi sakht-sakht
mora piya, mora piya..."

---------------------------------------

and for posterity:

x: so do you know if it's a boy or a girl?
s: whatever it is, it is an engineer.

mushy maternal memoirs and musings

2006-12-01T06:54:00.000-08:00

the last 8 months have been quite a ride.

before i discovered i was pregnant, i was flummoxed by what was happening to my body and mind. a 3-hour trek in the hills and i felt like i was going to die. my lovely waistline was not feeling that lovely anymore, and those little dimples on my thighs were definitely cellulite. i was hyper-sensitive, especially to anything that s said, and i felt like nobody really understood me (not unlike the ridiculous storm-and-stress of teenage years, now that i think of it!). the slightest made me burst into tears. i became convinced that old age and dotage had finally descended upon me.

needless to say, we were THRILLED to discover the cause of these changes. if i may add, i was also relieved. my stamina hadn't just deserted me randomly. i wasn't going senile...yet. and those muffins had nothing to do with my sudden corpulence. phew! s claims something about me changed within the 1st hour of getting the news. apparently, i was suddenly grounded, calm and focused. i came across as though nothing would fluster me. you mean i hadn't always been like that??!! you're kidding! in truth, though, i think just knowing i was pregnant helped my hormones stabilise.

anyway, so began a new period for me. suddenly, nothing else mattered. in a strange way, i felt liberated. and distanciated from the world in general. the more i connected with others, the more i felt like i was flying away, away into an exciting and luminous unknown. i absorbed myself in information on pregnancy, spoke to friends who had had children, heard grandmothers' tales, delivery-room horror stories and loads of advice. and i loved every moment of it. we didn't share the news with our social circle here until the first trimester was over. i hugged my beautiful secret tight and close, like a little girl who has been visited by a fairy and nobody knew anything of their uplifting, other-wordly interaction. (i don't know if i'd have felt this strongly had i been throwing up thrice a day or suffering ill-health!). sometimes i wonder how my vacant smiles and distant stares didn't give me away. it was really hard to keep it to myself, and at times i thought i was going to explode if i didn't spit it out. thank god the time came to tell all soon enough.

s decided he was going to share the pregnancy as much as he could with me. starting with weight gain :) after the 1st three months, i hadn't put on any weight at all, and s had put on 3 kilos. i think he still hates me for it! every appointment with the gynaec was an event. i drew up long lists of questions to ask and typically forgot all about them once i got there..thank god s remembered the important ones! i always wondered what the baby was thinking when we were with the gynaec. how would you feel if you were there and everyone around you only talked about you and how you were doing, but not really TO you. i'd feel rather weird, and even indignant that nobody asked me my opinion. so of course, i have had endless conversations with the baby separately...well, more like monologues. may as well grab the opportunity and give gyan before the baby comes. the baby may not give me a chance later on :) and however cliched it sounds, hearing your baby's heartbeat and seeing him/her on a scan is indescribable. especially when it appears like the entire cosmos merrily waving away to you. it's ineffable.

and oh, HOW can i forget! the toilet was now my favourite room. no matter where we went or what time it was, my first thought ALWAYS was, "how far is a loo from here?'. god bless the numerous cafe waitresses who kindly allowed me to use theirs', though i was not a client. night-visits, ranging from 3-6 times each night, became the norm. after a while, it was as if i was on autopilot!

we had expected drastic changes in my eating preferences, given that cravings and aversions are synonymous with pregnancy. intially, the only drastic difference was that i couldn't bear chocolate. thankfully, my body has since returned to its senses and now i am back with a vengeance. though only chocolat noir for me now. s kept pressurising me to 'think hard...there HAS to be something that you are dying to eat'. no, nothing but fruit. he had imagined being woken up at midnight by a ravished wife demanding some obscure eatable, and he would gallantly scout the streets of bussels looking for it. it never happened. he still feels cheated about that! in some way, i have redeemed myself by demanding ice-cream (dark chocolate only, of course) for dinner last night!

while on the pressures of being pregnant...there was ALWAYS the "oh my, you're 8 months pregnant...i'd have thought 5 or 6!!!". having been thin all my life, it's an old childhood trauma with me. and now, i've simply learned to smile and say "je suis petite, ma bebe est petite aussi". then there's the endless guessing game on the gender. people here always get to know the sex of the foetus, unlike in india where it is illegal. so after "how many months are you?", the most oft-repeated question was "do you know if it's a boy or a girl?". for the longest time, we really didn't. and now that we do, we don't want to tell :) and between s and me, we just CAN'T make up our minds about the name for the baby!

i must confess, for the first time, i have made a genuine attempt to improve my singing, in vain. i am tone-deaf, as s once euphemistically mentioned. now, i wish more than ever before i could sing well...but i guess if the baby has dealt with the trauma of seeing mama with 'junkie-from-amsterdam-red' hair, terrible singing can't hurt much, can it?

one more month to go...and the excitement is really building up. and, i must admit, anxiety! i was up last night from 3-6 am with my mind racing about god-knows-what, and no matter how much i tried to just breathe slowly, i failed miserably. if i'm like this now, what will happen during labour!!?? s and r, give me hope :) sometimes, i feel like i used to before my exams...when l and i used to get so overwhelmed by anxiety that we could only laugh hysterically. but oh, now that i'm 'calm and grounded', i will just breathe. in and out. slow and steady.

if you have read this far, thank u for indulging me in my completely mindless rambling.

restless

2006-11-27T12:50:00.000-08:00

some lines i stumbled upon, from 'The Odyssey' by Homer, translated by Robert Fitzgerald:

"now from his breast into his eyes the ache
of longing mounted, and he wept at last,
his dear wife, clear and faithful, in his arms,
longed for as the sunwarmed earth is longed for by a swimmer
spent in rough water where his ship went down
under Poseidon's blows, gale winds and tons of sea.
Few men can keep alive through a big surf
to crawl, clotted with brine, on kindly beaches
in joy, in joy, knowing the abyss behind:
and so she too rejoiced, her gaze upon her husband,
her white arms round him pressed as though forever."

-----------------------------------------------

and talking of swimmers, a holy bow to ian thorpe:

ian, i've admired your incredible will and talent for a while now. watching each of your specatcular races, i have been left spell-bound and inspired. now, as u ask yourself "am i only a swimmer?", i wish that you may find the answers that you seek. stay well.

mommy madness

2006-11-23T12:51:00.000-08:00

the stroller stands and calls your name. your winnie the pooh looks at me and winks. the bal-gopal crawls closer. and the teddy on your towel throws me a smile. yes i know there's still time. but as i tick the shopping list i really wonder if you think i'm going quite mad, for i can't think of anything else.

a gift for gift. and driving solo is ok, but parking?

2006-11-15T07:07:00.000-08:00

for giftofwings:
in return for, and a result of, your kindness - one of my MOST favourite songs.

this is the song.

------------------------------------------------------------------

i muster the courage to drive, ALL BY MYSELF, to a meeting that i have to go for. the venue is barely 10 min away. i get there without much hassle (well, the other drivers on the road may have been hassled by my erratic changes in speed, sudden braking, wrong indicators etc...but i manage to not let it bother me :)).

i get to the venue and start looking for parking, and there i see it...it's a miracle! in 1 min flat, i find myself a space, and that too one that's actually large enough for the car. AND, there's no "no-parking sign". god loves me! i park purrrfectly, and my heart has stopped thumping and is now singing.

i walk with a spring in my stride towards the building for my meeting. i walk out after, the spring even bouncier thanks to a very satisfying exchange of ideas. and then i think, hmm...i have time. might as well do groceries. so i hop into the store 2 min away from where the car is parked. along with getting the mundane stuff, i treat myself to delicious dark chocolate to congratulate myself on my brilliant driving and parking.

i come out of the store, bouncing and singing, and take 3 steps towards the car, and oh...what's that?

a policeman.

hovering around a car which looks suspiciously like the one i arrived in. nah, can't be. of course it is. deep breath. the bounce and the stride have disappeared. but i confidently walk towards the car and unlock, pretending he doesn't exist.

he: "madame, c'est votre voiture?"
me: "oui", i smile.

and then it turns out that i have parked in a 'no parking' space. in fact, in the whole line of neatly parked cars, mine is the SOLE place that's off-limits for parking. god hates me, of course.

so i hand him my "permis de provisoire" and tell him sheepishly (in slow and inaccurate french) that this is the first time i have driven by myself, and i'm already in trouble. he nods, with barely a hint of a smile.

i dump the bags in the car and look for the car papers, which he has politely asked for. oh, they aren't in the glove compartment. umm..ok, where can they be? s is paranoid about this and will NOT drive without them. so maybe they are in the boot? i rummage through all the unnecessary stuff lying there..AAH, THIS is where my brown coat is! but nope, no papers. so i tell him i can't find them, and will call my husband who knows where they are. i make 2 calls to s. unsurprisingly, he doesn't pick up (can't remember the last time he picked up my 1st call). right, this is great. 3 urgent messages, 2 more calls, 1 voicemail, and about 10 minutes later, the status hasn't changed. so i decide to have a tete-a-tete with the policeman.

i tell him that s is in the netherlands and i have tried to reach him and he will call back soon. in the meantime, could he please explain why this is a no-parking, cos i really did think i was doing the right thing, and i wouldn't want to repeat the same mistake. he suddenly looks thrilled that some random woman has requested a share of his vast and important knowledge. can i see the yellow line on the ground along the edge of the kerb? it's only along the length of the parking space where i've parked. THAT means it's no parking. AH! of course! silly me. i stifle my spontaneous question...how in the world is one supposed to see a yellow line on the RIGHT side of the road, on the ground, when u are in a left-hand drive car? it isn't even on eye-level! and then he asks me if it's a new car. he shoots a look of admiration towards the car, and then one that says "you SO don't deserve this", towards me. i silently reply with a look of hearty agreement, and he responds with one of genuine surprise. i agree i don't deserve this? he shakes his head. i look at my phone and silently curse s for not having called yet.

the policeman now tells me merrily that if i park like this during my practical exam, i will fail. thank you, like i didn't realise that already. and then he tells me that he was about to tow away my car, and getting it back along with the penalty for wrong parking would have cost me 150 euros. i'm genuinely horrified. i look at my phone again and ask him if he knows why husbands are so unreliable. he then just walks around the car, looks at his watch, and says that i can go. i'm amazed. i say "vraiment?? vous etes tres genteel!!!merci!". i ask him to wish me luck for furture parking. "bon chance", he smiles.

i get into the car, start the engine and s calls. i tell him crisis resolved. he asks me how. i say maybe god loves me after all :)

2006-11-10T08:36:00.000-08:00

will, i know you
you do your own

when aligned
you liberate me
in absentia
a tiny step
a huge leap

i gently float
your shadow deep
a cool caress
your lullaby
merges me
with my own

will, i know you
you will be done
as i do my own

thank u kundalini for these lovely lines

2006-11-08T13:26:00.000-08:00

"be still my soul
hold not a harp
of pitiful melody
you would have flown
a kite up on your own roof
but the roof is crowded
and kites and reels
come too dear
be still my soul
for you have no way of knowing
be still my soul
this be a call
of the real"

you wrote them months ago, but they just seemed to fit this mo for me.

(ps: i shamelessly hunted them down on your blog when you weren't looking :))

culture-vultures

2006-11-06T01:04:00.000-08:00

the beaux-arts in brussels is hosting an 'india festival', from oct 2006 to jan 2007. all sorts of stuff...music, dance, films, literature, exhibitions. 3 months sounds like a LONG time for a festival, but most events are only on weekends, so actually it isn't as extensive as one may think.

so far, we have caught some really nice performances.

music:
1. sanjeev abhyankar and pt. jasraj.
abhyankar, as i realised later, has sung some stuff that i had been listening to of late (the vir-rasa-shloka mentioned in the tag 2 posts ago). he charmed me instantly with his humility and constant smile, as much as he did with his music. he requested for some soft light to be thrown on the audience, so he could see our expressions and ensure that we "weren't falling aleep". and while the technician gaffed the lights for the next 10 minutes (first they didn't come on, then they were too bright, then they wouldnt go off), he at no point showed the slightest sign of frustration. he explained each song before starting it, which was particularly helpful for me. and i could tell that he enjoyed himself every moment as much as his audience.

am sure many of you have had the chance of watching jasraj. he is now almost 77, and still can be as impressive as 20 years ago. i don't really "understand" classical hindustani, but enjoy it from time to time. while i couldn't appreciate nuances, i was completely absorbed nevertheless. but, i must confess, i was disappointed in his manner. he entered the stage quite grandly, separately, after all other accompanists and singers were already seated (they had walked onto the stage together). he entered to a standing ovation, with his arms raised in blessing. dressed in orange silk dhoti and a prominent rudraksh and gold mala, he could have been a modern swami. i don't recall him in such an avataar, maybe the last time i watched him i was too young. after seating himself, a lady from the group picked up the mike and said, "panditji wants me to tell you...". that disappointed me further. why couldn't he just tell us himself! it all just seemed terribly lofty. of course, i forgot all this as soon as he started singing :)

2. trishul: martin speake, dharamveer singh and sarvar sabri.

a jazz-cum-classical band with the sax, sitar and tabla. they started off quite slow, i thought, but picked up soon and performed some really good compositions. in one piece, sabri played the ghatam, and it was truly refreshing to hear its sound along with the sax (this may not be a new thing for those of you steeped in music, but for me it was a first and i really liked it). it lasted barely an hour, and i wish it had been longer.

dance:
the opening act was a stunning dance dialogue between an odissi and a bharatnatyam dancer, madhavi mudgal and alarmel valli (i wrote a few words on this one a couple of posts ago). in addition, we watched a part of a kathakali performance by the kalamandalam group from kerala. this was my first experience with kathakali.

the entire performance lasted more than 4 hours, and the theme was 'scenes from the mahabharta'. we stepped in after the 1st half, and watched for about 1.5 hours. the first 20 minutes, i was completely lost. they had put up wide screens with some sub-titles in french and ducth, so that helped. but it took me a while to get used to the music (that specific drum they use). initially, i just took in stuff and tried to make sense of it. the 4 musicians were standing around the 2 kathakali dancers, quite a change from other sorts of dances where the musicians are seated to one side. the dress was more ostentatious than i had imagined, and the gestures were less grandiose and expansive than i had expected.

once i got accustomed to these things, the dance-drama became quite absorbing. it got easier to identify the characters the dancers were playing, when they changed and what they were trying to communicate. though i think it would have been impossible to make sense of it without the sub-titles. with time, i actually started enjoying it! we left soon after s nodded off to sleep in the audience :)

theatre:
they staged lillette dubey's "sammy". i recently read "the life of mahatma gandhi" by louis fischer, and was looking forward to seeing the stage portrayal of the man. the conceptualisation of the play was rather unique in that they managed to maintain a chronology of events and exchanges even though the exchanges themselves could be seen as stories in themselves. joy sengupta was extremely convincing as gandhi, and i thought they depicted his personal struggles, strengths and weaknesses as well as is possible in 2 hours.

yet to come:
mallika sarabhai, chaurasia, asha bhonsle, gundechcha brothers, zakir hussein. don't know whether we wil be able to catch most of these, my baby may arrive before them!!

the day of non-achievements

2006-10-31T10:02:00.000-08:00

so.

i finally finish this LONG post that i'd been working on for the last 5 days, and it disappears.
i finally find this one song that i've been DYING to listen to (thanks to dweebs), and it isn't available for downloading.
i finally book some tickets for a trip, online, and my bank refuses to pay.
i finally play the songs on various blogs that i wanted, and i can't figure how to SAVE them on my comp. some get saved automatically and then i can't find them.
i finally try to light the fireplace all by myself, and it actually does! never mind that it dies out in 15 min.

so i graciously retire from the world today...and find comfort in my books.

currently reading:
- 'the time traveller's wife', audrey niffneger: good fun and total time-pass
- 'the interpersonal world of the infant', daniel stern: for when i remember i have a brain
- 'the bhagvad gita', swami chinmayananda: every night
- Asterix series: toilet-reading

what u all reading?

the playlist tag

2006-10-23T03:22:00.000-07:00

before i get down to it, a confession:

1. i only just got an i-pod (ulp...ummmm...errrrr)
2. now begins the tedious learning curve re. how to transfer songs onto it etc etc.
3. what in heaven's name is 'podcasting'??? u guys STRESS me out :)

so the 10 tracks that i have been listening to most often are:

vir rasa sanskara shloka - sanjeev abhyankar
ankhan soni vich - ghulam ali
jind mahi - malkit singh
we are the wave - harry belafonte
la illah illah allah - the women's ensemble of ferghana
standing in the rain/scott's sinful solo (medley) - john paul young/david herschfelder & the bogo pogo orchestra
main naraye mastana - abida parveen
evening in june - van morrison
ik onkar - harshdeep kaur
kali kamaliya wale - the sabri brothers

and yes, given that they are on different CDs, it is a pain to change each time. so the ipod will change that...hurrah :)

g, thanks for the tag, i enjoyed this. as u can see, music aunty is having an influence :)

for alarmel valli and madhavi mudgal

2006-10-11T06:02:00.000-07:00

the sacred rhythm that sprung from you
the bright light that shone through you
the grace and the impossible ease
the humility despite the mastery

i absorbed these, and more

you called, i listened
you mesmerised, i was stilled
you transported, i flowed
you reminded, i accepted

and now
i try to capture it all again
but in vain

inspired by a dance dialogue between valli (bharatnatyam) and mudgal (odissi); i have not felt so moved since i saw the dolphins.

driving myself nuts

2006-10-04T06:53:00.000-07:00

i have never been much of a driver. yes i can get from one point to another, and in all my 6 years of driving in bombay, i've had only one minor accident. but the truth is, i don't really enjoy it. when i was 16 and my friends were trying to convince their parents into getting them an illegal license, i felt totally out of the loop. i didn't get why it was such a big deal. even now, i prefer being a passenger. it allows me the luxury of staring out of the window and day-dreaming, reading, singing aloud with the radio, or appreciating the surroundings....all of which i find significantly more exciting than concentrating on signals, overtaking cars, pot-holes or road-rage. this last year, i have had the thrill of cruising in super-fast, super-sexy cars, on roads without speed limits. fine, it's fun. in fact, good fun. but in a mundane life, how often am i going to have that joy? mostly, it is just manoeuver, turn, oops not that way, drive, overtake, find parking, waste 10 min looking for parking, curse the guy who got to your spot before you, waste more time, then park without scratching. repeat.

after a year of being here, i have accepted that i need to get myself a license. if i am to be independent and comfortable with the baby, given s's travelling, i better be able to drive. so i have begun the process. the 'Process', i must add, is long-drawn and dull.

step one: you take a driving theory exam.
now, my point is, WHY? why do i need to know what tread-depth the tyres should have. or that centrifugal force will push my car outwards while turning if it is back-heavy. or the relationship between clutch, brakes, tyres and suspension. really, this is physics to me. i hated physics through school and college. it's the only subject i plugged in once. maths, i like. but physics! richard feynman proved to me that it can be a beautiful subject, but mr. feynman, i encountered you too late in life!

so anyway, i take the test. grudgingly. 50 questions, multiple choice, on the computer. of which i must get 41 right to pass. else, i have to take the test again. having discussed this with some other young moms here who drive their kids to school, i learned that failing the test once is rather common. for me, it was not an option. sure, i'd be embarassed if i flunked. but that i can bear...i have no qualms in accepting that i am a machine dunce.(if a bulb goes off, i just move to the next room!). i simply couldn't imagine spending more time reading the same deathly-boring stuff and going through the stress a second time.

and voila, i pass. by the skin of my teeth. get 42 right. there is a god and he or she loves me :)

step two: you take driving classes.
so i commence driving classes.
first mistake - i expect something like tejani driving school in bombay, where i had learned driving moons ago.
second mistake - i forget that the gear box in cars here is on my right, not on my left. so unthinkingly, my left hand keeps seeking out a gear box, while my right-hand turns on the wipers instead of the indicators.
third mistake - i let s get a license before me. that means now, when we go driving together, we have another reason to fight. cos he will be right, and i will be wrong, and i will hate it :)

step three: expectedly, the practical exam.
which almost everyone fails once. i will have to take this one in about 6 months.

the joys of being an expat!!

for the dancing queen and her sharaabi

2006-09-29T06:24:00.000-07:00

thank you,

for helping me see what i was missing,
for reminding me of who i am
and pushing me to ask why.
for unshaken support across the seas.

but most of all,
for your truth and faith rooted in love.

blind but luminous

2006-09-21T02:51:00.000-07:00

meri aankhein dekhein tum mein
kabhi antariksh kabhi diya

woh sab jo dhoondke bhi
mujhse hamesha tha chupa
yehi tho tha, yehi tho hai
jo maine tha jaan-na chaaha

meri is duniya mein tum
mujhme ho aur main tum mein
kahaan shuru aur kahaan khatam
sab hum mein aur hum sab mein

entertainment

2006-09-06T05:20:00.000-07:00

an invitation to dinner at the ambassador's place took s and me by surprise...we know almost nobody at the embassy and i have seen the ambassador (we will call him dc) only twice, unimpressively delivering excerpts from the PM's Independence and Republic Day addresses.

anyway, we arrive at the venue exactly 30 min late. s had got stuck in traffic returning from the netherlands, one of those unavoidable delays. we walk through a long-ish corridor into a lobby and find ourselves standing on a landing, a few steps below which is a large drawing room. as the ambassador's wife (to be called kc) comes up to receive us, about 15 heads below look up curiously to see who dare arrive so late at the ambassador's dinner. i pretend nobody but kc exists in the room and after a courteous hello and a genuine and embarassed apology, s and i follow her down to the 15 waiting heads. kc leads us a bit towards the centre and grandly introduces me first, "This is X, she is a danseuse, and (turning to one young man in particular), like you, they have just had a small baby.'

I tried hard to suppress a giggle...kc had been wrong on all 3 counts! so i just looked at all the faces around me and calmly announced, "Actually, I am Y, a psychologist (though i'd have given ANYTHING to be a dancer), and (patting my tummy) our little baby is still really little". kc responded pormptly, "Oh...a psychologist..even better! and you havent had your baby yet?". no auntyji, in case u had forgotten, babies take their own time coming :)

with this grand start, we are off on a rollicking ride. here are some snippets of the unusal conversations i had.

conversation 1
with a prof. of cultural studies in university of ghent (originally from Bangalore):
"so u are pregnant?? congratulations. u know, you must now drink trappiste beer, it is very good for lactation. for the next 3 months, and then for the first 3 months after the baby is born...my wife did the same and it really helped her",
me trying hard to stop my eyes rolling heavenwards at the unsolicited gyan and simultaneously really surprised, "oh really, i had no idea that beers had such properties."
"oh yes, but not any beer...only trappiste beer. do u drink?".
me, smiling, "no". (the rheingau wine-tasting some months ago was an exception!)
"oh but you must...red wine is very good for you and the baby, especially while you are pregnant...and now, u must have trappiste beer !!".

once i decided to take charge and ask him about his work, i had the best 20 min of the evening. after really long, i met someone who was not only into academia, but aware of and interested in the very authors that i referred to for my dissertation. really rejuvenating.

conversation 2: (actually, monologue)
with ab, orig. from del.
me: "you mentioned you have a son...how old is he?"
"3 yrs.....and u cant imagine how smart kids are nowadays. my wife and i decided to leave him for the evening with our very good friends, whom he is very comfortable with. but his anticipation...unbelieveable. he realised we were both going out, and said that if we were going to leave him behind, he would run away. that we would come back to an empty house and never see him again. (tone: strange mix of amazement and pride, expression: half amused, hlf admiring). so we said (folding his hands in relief), 'achcha baba, mama will stay with you...you dont run away ok!!! and u know, my son, he is a leo, he'll do what he says...baap re. so we thought my wife better not come"
me, incredulous: "OH!"
"i mean, the kind of anticipation abilities the kids have...i was nothing when i was 3"
while i still attempt to come to terms with what i've heard, s asks, " so what do you do?"
"i work at intel...know, until i went to b-school, i only focussed on studies. double promotions in school, nothing but studying and topping ever single exam. then the best b-school in india...and there i got involved in drama and other things, and going to the US made me get into sports. u know, i am going to let my son do what he wants...he can become an artist, a sportsman...not going to make him top his exams like i did, or get double promotions, or go to the best B-school in india."
silence.
he continues, "double promotions in school is ok, but all-round development is very important. thats why the best b-school in india was good for me".
s finally concedes and asks, "which b-school?"
the reply, "iim- I. we were the first batch".

conversation 3: with kc, the ambassador's wife.
me: "how do u like brussels?"
kc: "i decided to like every place i go to."
"oh, cool"
"you know, i am the president of three clubs here, and i like to be a president that really does things rather than sitting around. that keeps me busy. and this afternoon iwas at lunch at the pakistani ambassador's place, and the princess was there"
i look blank. which princess?
she reads my blank look. "u know, the princess of belgium. she has even called me twice, but i never recognise her, i am so bad."
i nod, expressionless.
me:"i believe your son was visiting? or is he about to visit?"
"yes. you know, he and my daughter-in-law are both from cambridge. and that photograph he took it and won an award for it. "
me, "oh, nice."

isn't the world a fun place :)

bah!

2006-09-01T05:02:00.000-07:00

since as long as i can recall
my teeth have been a pain
too many cavities and root canals
and brushing twice? all in vain!

now two of my wisdom teeth
happily lie in the dentist's bin,
to suffer such a gruesome fate
i must have surely sinned

the more i try to escape
the dentist's dreary lair,
the more i am laughed at by fate.
who said life was fair?

but my woes don't end here,
for other than the dentist's breed
there exists a ruthless type
equally painful, indeed.

this is the techie brigade
who can fly me to the moon
but they can't fix my laptop
clearly, i am doomed.

my pictures and my music
and all my data, gone.
without my on-blog radio
i feel quite forlorn.

they called it melodrama
when i shared my calamity.
but i've lost a part of my being.
life is one big travesty :(

tantrums of the terrible threes?

2006-08-29T05:44:00.000-07:00

A, an absolutely adorable 3 year-old, suddenly dropped-in on sun evening with her 7 year-old sister I and her parents. the kids were being their usual bouncy selves and after a bit of jumping and chasing around, the elder one settled herself on one of the floor-cushions while the little one parked herself between her mum and me. barely a few minutes later, she was trying to squeeze into I's cushion. expectedly, I refused, not allowing her any space. she told A to get her own cushion, but of course, A only wanted I's cushion. A's plaintive cries filled the room, which the parents calmy ignored. s and i decided to follow the cue and go along with the ignoring...though i MUST say that i found it really hard to ignore her, she is simply so very cute. anyway, conversation flowed in parallel with A's monotonous wails.

at some point, A decided it wasn't worth it and moved on to the sohn-papdi on the table, without a bowl. she dropped most of it...and was immediately admonished by her mum, who promptly appeared with a bowl that she insisted A use. A refused. this was followed by a long pause, after which the mum just thrust the bowl into A's hands. more sulking and drama.

our friends hadn't intended on staying for dinner and it was already late, so we ended up making do with whatever was stocked in the fridge. A's dad was keen to go home soon, the next day being a monday. s was even more keen to get to bed early...he needs some extra-time on sunday nights to brainwash himself that life isn't terrible despite the fact that he leaves home mon morn 6:30 and usually doesnt return till thursday. so we adults went about business-like trying to get food on the table to ensure we could wind up soon.

and then A happened. from the very start of her dinner, she showed no inclination to eat. she sat swinging her legs, playing with her food. after 3 bites, she declared she didn't like roti and wanted rice instead, but mum refused to give her anything until she finished what was on her plate. she then decided it was time for her to go to the toilet for the Big Job. responsible elder sister I volunteered to take her instead of mum though she hadnt finished her dinner either. so mum said she should take her to the loo and leave her there. for a few seconds, there was peace. then, just as we heard I's footsteps walking back towards us, A's vocal chords stretched themselves and drowned them out. 'IIISSSSSSHHHOOOOOOOOOOOO don' t goooooooooooo', she bawled. there's I, not knowing whether to return to us or to the toilet. and there's mum, calmly telling I to come back to her waiting dinner. and there's A's wailing, that has now been transformed into shrieking.

in the midst of all that, there's our dinner. so we eat on and I joins us. finally, A shrieks even louder and shriller than before (if that was really possible) to indicate that she is done. so mum goes and gets her. for a few minutes, A hides behind the sofas, smiling coyly, while mum has already resumed her eating. again given the royal ignore, she clambers onto her seat and finally begins eating. by now, we are all mostly done, but sitting and chatting. A stops eating as soon as she started. we begin clearing the table, A continues staring at the wall. then, quite suddenly, she resumes her wailing. what is it NOW, asks her exasperated mum from the kitchen. 'i want isssshhhhooooooooooooo tp feeeeeeeedddd meeeeee': the classical stretched tone of a child who bawls and talks at the same time. mum's response: nobody is going to feed A, she must eat herself. after the same dialogues were repeated on both sides for what seemed like forever, A FINALLY quietens down and slowly eats her food. by the time she finishes, it's 11.

once they left, s and i just stared at each other. honestly...we find both kids really well-behaved, MOST of the time. having one of them throw a tantrum in our own home was a strange experience...tucked into bed, my little one got a sound lecture on how NOT to behave!!!

a holy bow to every single parent in the world. HOW on earth did our's bring us up!?

thanks to s, cd, here u are

2006-08-20T09:42:00.000-07:00

this is the alhambra, as seen from the top of the albaysin (the old muslim quarters).

one of the many designs on the walls in the casa royal. wish i could read arabic and know what this one means!

i havent seen so much intricate work in a structure as huge as this one, so well-preserved. of course, there has been some renovation work.

and if you look hard enough at the ochre-ish archway behind the white beam, you may just spot the stalactitie-like designs i mentioned in the post below.

this is one of my favourites. the entire wall is composed of maybe 3 or 4 of these windows, and if u look closely at the bottom of the photo, you will see the arabic inscription which says 'there's no conqueror but god'. the sides of the window as u see them do not fully capture the intricate beauty of the designs.

in this one below, u see the islamic usage of water to balance their environment. this pool was constructed not only to cool the marble in the summer, but also to provide a new perspective to the architechture itself: the perfect geometry reflected in the gentle ripples were believed to lend the symmetrical ambience a sensuous and softening effect.

andalucia. and the cosmos.

2006-08-16T07:45:00.000-07:00

tarifa:
tarifa, spain, is the southern-most city of europe. touching the straits of gibraltar, it is essentially the central dividing point between costa del sol and costa de le luz (coast of the sun, and of light, respectively). being one of the windiest coasts in the world, it is no surprise that it is a major kite-surfing capital. that surprised us nevertheless, for we didn't realise just HOW windy it could get on the beach. grains of sand can be driven into a frenzy and fling themselves against you stinging your feet.

but let that not put you off...the sparkling azure waters are gorgeous, and it has a magnetic goa-esque charm to it. our hotel was 6 km outside tarifa, so we had the peace and quiet that we sought, and hip-and-happening excitement when we wanted it.

dolphin-watching was clearly the highlight of the trip for me. actually, they call it whale-watching, though we didn't see any whales. frankly, whales leave me feeling quite cold...even killer whales don't inspire me much. but dolphins...aaah, they're something else. i'd watched a program on them years ago, and had since then desired to see them in the wild. and this was my lucky day...not one, not two, but many. they swam in twos, threes and fives, almost racing alongside us. some even seemed to be performing for our pleasure, as if enjoying the attention. i had hoped to hear their sound, but nope. guess that's a bit much to hope for when you are one one of three ferries hectically looking for and circling around dolphins!

granada:
whatever you may have heard about the alhambra, it is hard to imagine its actual beauty...its an absolute must if you ever visit. it gives you a real feel of islamic spain. the alcazaba, or fortress, though enchanting, doesn't come close to the casa real, the royal rooms. islamic mastery over geometric architechture is evident in the interiors of these rooms. the intricate designs are unlike any other mosaic-work i have seen. these are beautifully blended with arabic inscriptions all over the walls. often, the same line from the quran is repeated - 'there is no conqueror but god'. the arches are carved with unbelieveable detail and symmetry, applying the concept of stalactities to highlight the interplay of light as it streams through the meshed windows. honestly, i could go on...you really have to be there to feel it.

the albaysin, the old muslim quarter, was interesting but not spectaular. the route to get there is fun, though. you have to climb up wide steps of uneven large pebblestones (can pebblestones be large or are they then called something else?) along curving lanes up to the top, and along the way you pass enchanting arabic tea houses, complete with hookahs, islamic furniture and art. once you reach the top (the mosque has been replaced by a non-descript church), you find yourself on an open terrace that overlooks the rest of city and one side of the alhambra. if you are lucky, as we were, you may chance upon a bunch of old (maybe failed) flamenco singers and guitarists, merrily doing their thing, with the appreciative audience clapping away in the spanish style to encourage and support the singing. GREAT fun. there's something so exciting about stumbling upon a spontaneous, indigineous performance involving a random group.

had the chance to catch a 'real' performance as well. set in the alhambra at night, all lit up, it was a wonderful experience. originally, flamenco involved only singing and clapping, i believe. the guitar was introduced soon after, and only later, the dancer. quite the opposite of what i'd thought. to me, flamenco was unimaginable without the amazing foot-work and hand movments of the dancer, and the clapping. also, traditionally, the songs were always about lamentation and sorrow, though in different contexts. the introduction of more cheerful content is recent.

the white villages - grazalema and zahara de la sierra:
away from the coast, in the central-south of spain, a number of little villages dot the undulating scenery. these villages are full of white-washed homes and buildings, along narrow curving streets. very pretty when you approach them, they stand out as pristine white dwellings against the blue sky and the green hills, sometimes looking quite imposing if percehed atop a hill with a fortress. once inside, they feel like any other little town. so they are perfect to drive through.

BUT!!!
if you are vegetarian, please carry your own food. it isn't too much of a problem in tarifa...thanks to new-age bars and restaurants and increasing interest in vegetarianism. but villages and granada...fruit and pizzas zindabad!

though completely disjointed from the rest of this post, i can't not mention an overwhelming moment that occured before the trip. when the cosmos waved to us.

and so
the cosmos waved
the dolphins played
and all is well with the world.

...

2006-08-15T03:29:00.000-07:00

oh island in the sun
given to me by my father's hands
all my days i will sing in praise
of your forests, waters
your shining sands

oh island in the sun...

for the 6th of august, in advance

2006-08-02T01:22:00.000-07:00

nani aaj to badaa din hai
aaj jo aapka janmdin hai

aaj ka har pal hai suhaana
mujhe hai aapse bas yeh kehna

ki aapki aankhein aur muskuraahat
hamesha rahein itni hi pyaari

aur aapke lavzon main kal bhi
jhalkein khushiyaan dher saari.

from my LB to A

2006-07-26T10:17:00.000-07:00

dear A,

hope you get well soon
for your doggies miss you
especially bow-bow
you know they love you

you bring them french fries
and put them to bed
now that you're not there
it's no fun, they said

and your lovely yellow car
is waiting patiently
for its favourite driver
who worships it ardently

please come back soon
once again, to play with them
while i wait to hear your tales
my saintly little friend.

words don't come easy to me

2006-07-20T04:12:00.000-07:00

i'm in a very random mood with time to kill, so anyone looking for a meaningful post might want to return another day!

i'd mentioned my love for words in an earlier post. this post is about some of my pet hates. like many across the world, i subscribe to 'A Word A Day', and it brought me the following words that i can never recall:

1. contumely.
i mean, who would ever guess this is a noun? i think it'd make life simpler if 'contume' was a noun and 'contumely' it's adjective.

and anyway, what about this word lends itself to its meanings:
- "rudeness or rough treatment arising from haughtiness and contempt; scornful insolence"
- "an instance of contemptuousness in act or speech"

initially, i thought i was being very bright by identifying the 'cont-' of 'contempt' with that of the word in question. but it doesn't help. it ALWAYS makes me think that contumely is an adjective. worse...can u believe that "contumelies" is an accurate word?

eg. the pedlars find satisfaction for all contumelies in making good bargains -
nathaniel hawthorne, 'the american notebooks'.

and knowing the latin root for this word, contumelia (insult/outrage), doesn't help!

i feel contumely for 'contumely'? is that correct? say yes, then i'd have finally found a way to remember it!

2. gloaming.
another noun. means 'twilight/dusk'. worse, unlike either 'twilight' or 'dusk', 'gloaming is always prefixed with 'the'.

eg. 'it was the gloaming' vs 'it was twilight'.

of course, the word is strongly reminescent of 'gleaming', an adjective that comes roughly close to its opposite. antonyms often serve as great mnemonics, but here, it makes me think that gloaming is an adjective. sigh.

3. brummagen.
meaning cheap and showy. also, spurious/counterfeit. an adjective which sounds like a noun to me. and this one doesn't have any fancy latin root. it's an alteration of 'Birmingham', which was known to produce counterfeit groats in the 17th century. this should make it easier to remember, but nope! i remember Birmingham but ALWAYS get the word itself wrong...anything from 'bummergem' to 'brimmingham' to 'burmangem'. never the right one.

any effective mnemonics that u can think of for me?

astad deboo, being cyrus and the coffee song

2006-07-18T06:38:00.000-07:00

Astad Deboo:.
had always wanted to see him perform while i was in bombay, but never ended up doing so. had the chance recently, and though it meant a 2 hour train-cum-bus ride, one way, i just had to take it...i'm a sucker for good dance performers.

and it was truly worth it. the theme was "nav-rasas". it was not really the contemporised rendition of the classical that i had anticipated. rather, the stylised movements were at once modern and classical. and even the transition from one mudra to an unexpected one seemed to flow seamlessly. in particular, his rendition of "anger" and "love" were stirring.

the 10 girls in his troupe were deaf and mute. so they didn't dance to the rhythm of the music, but to that of the counts in their heads. quite amazing. they could have smiled more, (in the "joy"' rasa), but i thought they were remarkably synchronised, really graceful and wonderfully self-assured. a big thumbs-up for them.

Being Cyrus:
watched it recently and really enjoyed it. found it refreshingly different in concept, and found saif very impressive. the parsee stereotype, i thought, was well-portrayed, though dimple rattled my nerves a bit. but perhaps that was the intention.

The Coffee Song:
every single time osibisa plays on our system, i can't help but smile...i totally love their beats and joie-de-vivre. and in this case, the lyrics. how in the world did they come up with a song like this one...

"you date a girl and find out later
she smells like a percolator
her perfume was made right on the grill
they've got an awful lot of coffee in brazil"
"there's an awful lot of coffee in brazil"

oh

2006-07-15T13:27:00.000-07:00

This one's from s to g and k, with fond memories of Mr. Tata.

for daddy long-legs

2006-07-12T13:50:00.000-07:00

you say you knew it from the start
but i'd never have guessed i'd be your wife
that your boyish grin and mad ways
were to become my very life

you won't believe it but it is true
i do thank god everyday for you
and now even more than ever before
for our little bundle that lies in store

dont know if we'll ride into the sunset
in a rickety jalopy, as you once said
but yes i know we'll have great fun
for you really are the shine in my sun.

PS - and just so you know, i think of you each time i hear these lines from the song 'waise hi' by euphoria -
"achcha hoon main kehte hain sabhi,
mashhoor hoon, kehte hain sabhi,
vajah tu hai, unhe maloom nahin,
aise hi jeena hai to yehi sahi...

dil tho dhadakta hai waise hi..."

the joys

2006-07-06T06:11:00.000-07:00

the joys of work:
the good news is that i have FINALLY been employed! all my working and studying years, i never realised how important it was to merely have "something to do". if anything, i longed to have nothing to do. now i am wiser!
the better news is that i'm doing something fun. never really thought i'll be doing such stuff, but am enjoying it. more on that in my next post.
the best news is that it's a 6-month internship, which is PERFECT. soon after the internship gets over, i'll have a full time job - my baby :)

the joys of vacation:
in addition, the next 2 months look very promising. mom's visit and a number of jaunts. AND, my office is shut for 2 weeks in july. these europeans REALLY know how to live life...can u imagine such a thing in bombay? or ny? or london? it is apparently a law that belgian companies HAVE to close shop for at least 2 weeks in summer. like school summer vacation! waah.

the joys of summer:
i'd forgotten what heat and humidity meant. thanks to the extreme tempereatures here, i am reminded of college days in bombay when we'd go window shopping and then run into ac shops to get a breather from the sultry heat. here, its worse...no ac. no fans even :) fun! i'd rather die of the heat than of the cold. at least it feels like home in ONE way. so i'm still happy.

baby-dreams

2006-06-28T11:54:00.000-07:00

artist: vasudeo kamath

in my baby-dreams,
my baby dreams.

eyes shut
yet seeing all,
not talking yet
but saying it all,
touching none
still stirring deep,
love and peace,
the sweetest sleep.

my baby's dreams
are my baby-dreams.

chanda hai tu, mera taara hai tu

2006-06-26T02:34:00.000-07:00

here's an akbar-birbal story i read as a child.

One day, Emperor Akbar asked Birbal to find the most beautiful child in the whole kingdom. He granted him a week for what he imagined would be an exhaustive and difficult search. Birbal was amused at his Jahaanpanaah's strange whim, but ever-obedient, paid his respects and took his leave.

When Birbal entered the palace just a few hours later, the Emperor was surprised. "You found the most beautiful child in the whole kingdom so soon, Birbal?", he asked doubtfully. Birbal replied confidently, "Yes jahaanpanaah, come and see for yourself". Curious, the Emperor followed Birbal.

There he saw a child standing and staring at him. To Akbar, this child seemed the ugliest he had ever seen. So much so, that he did not want to look at the child at all. He turned and glared at his prime minister, "Is this some sort of joke Birbal?" Before Birbal could respond, the child's mother came rushing into the room, "My baby, my sun, my moon...you naughty child, I have been looking for you all over!!!! My beautiful, beautiful child, don't you ever disappear like that again."

Birbal smiled at Akbar, and said evenly, "You see Jahaanpanaah, this IS the most beautiful child in the kingdom. For the mother."

as a child, i found this story sweet but obvious. now, i totally love it!

PS - heard my little teddy's heartbeat. magical.

...

2006-06-24T01:01:00.000-07:00

in my belly, in my soul
the formless is taking form

and at a golden moment
my baby will be born

the sweet smell of summer

2006-06-18T02:13:00.000-07:00

artist: ajay de

beta, you must eat MORE!

2006-06-13T14:50:00.000-07:00

introducing my dad.

he is very 'old-school' punjabi - "khaate-peete ghar ki lagni chaahiye", "sukki padi hai", and so on. it is an exercise in futility to try to provide evidence for my above-average eating. it's a battle i had lost before i'd even begun to fight it. 'beta sirf do roti? ek aur lo'. one more roti later, 'kya, sirf teen roti? woh bhi ghee ke bina?! jab main aapki umar ka tha...'. and so i have heard stories of how my dad/chachas would consume 23 aloo-parathas smeared with 'desi kyo' in one sitting. how "paanch-cheh aam tho bete pataa bhi nahin lagta". and lectures on how just because you have had cereal with milk doesn't mean you have had milk.

anguished arguments on the topic of food continued through my years at school, college and even after. the way i am built would have everyone believe i live on love and fresh air, so that didn't help either. i thought when i'd start working, it would ease off. it got worse! now, it was "beta, you work so hard...14-15 hours a day is no joke...you need energy". and of course, no amount of 'energy' that i consumed was ever enough.

dad is visiting me now, and i have been gorging myself on moti-choor laddoos and theplas and date barfi. the other day, as i bit into a 2nd delicious laddoo, my dad says 'beta, i'm so happy to see you eating...these laddoos are pure ghee". my reply, "pure fat is more like it'. pat comes my dad's response 'not pure fat beta, pure ENERGY!' haanji papa.

dad is horrified that we drink half-full milk. and even more horrified that we don't use ghee on every chapati. 'beta tum log aaj kal ke bachche ho...kuch pataa tho hai nahin'. haanji papa.

and of course, it ALWAYS ends with 'beta you will only understand when you become a parent"! SIGH! i surrender. yes dad, i must eat MORE!

for dweebz

2006-06-07T07:27:00.000-07:00

you pulled my hair when we were 2
me the ever-forgiving still loved you.
you saw your folly then and brought me toffee,
though now you can't get why i don't drink coffee.

i wrote you a poem for your 18th birthday
we learnt lyrics together, of random songs we played.
we hid french fries and shocked your dad
we had terrific times, and then we had the bad.

yes we've come down a long and winded path
we've become opposites in life and it's aftermath,
our name is all we have in common, i know.
you love cats and me...oh, you know!

you laugh at my blog and i laugh at you
and i don't even understand what you really do
and you say you don't get what i'm on about,
we wear different lenses, without a doubt.

you think you're on the 'outside'
i say it's all in your head
the problem is that you
never listened to what i said :)

yet we have fun, we have to agree,
who else can come and make me bhel-puri?
and who entertains you as much as me
you have to admit that "you luuuuuuuvrrrrrrrrvee me"!

And of course you won't admit that...coz that'll mean that you agree with me :)

ineffable

2006-06-06T04:39:00.000-07:00

a picture speaks
a thousand words
but i find none
to express even one
which can say
what i really feel

they said this
and they said that
but it's none of this
nor any of that

it's just something else.
you must know it's true
that i'm so in love
with the very thought of you.

Desmond Tutu and the Dalai Lama

2006-06-02T05:14:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, i attended an award ceremony. the 'Light of Truth Award' is presented on behalf of the International Campaign for Tibet to individuals and institutions who have made significant contributions to the Tibetan struggle for human rights and freedom. This year, there are two awardees. Archbishop Desmond Tutu, for championing the rights of the oppressed and for his vocal support of the Tibetan cause. And the Herge Foundation, for upholding the legacy of the author of Tintin in Tibet (the author, Georges Remi, long dead, was lauded for having resisted politicising Tibet and highlighting themes of friendship and spirituality, way back in 1958).

I, of course, had gone for the sole purpose of seeing the Dalai Lama, who was to present the awards. Yes, I saw him, that too from quite close. He looks exactly like he does in his pictures, beatific, benevolet and peaceful. He doesn't walk...he glides. He didn't climb stairs, he floated onto the podium (not unlike Sri Sri Ravishankar). He got on to the stage along with the awardees and a few others, and he was the first to fold his hands and bow low to the hushed, standing audience. Others simply followed suit. Apparently, the Dalai Lama is always childlike and playful, and has to be be constantly reminded to stop behaving like a child and to act like a "Holy Man" (so said Desmond Tutu). I was not priveledged to see him in that avataar.

The programme began with a live performance of Tibetan music. A girl sang a few songs with an instrument that I am ashamed to say I could not recognise (it was a cross between a sitar and a guitar...one of you music gurus may know of it). The music was simply soul-stirring, though I didn't understand it. After some random but thankfully brief introductory speeches, the Dalai Lama presented the award to Desmond Tutu, who was then asked to "speak a few words".

From the word 'go', Tutu rocked. He regaled the audience with little anecdotes, lavished genuine praise on the Dalai, laughed at himself, narrated jokes...and had the audience enthralled the entire time he spoke. I have a particularly bad attention span (considering I've been out of school for a year and remain jobless!), especially when it comes to so-called World Leaders. But Tutu had me hanging on to every word he said, and asking for more. The most amazing thing I thought was not that he had such an inspiring command over himself and others or that he spoke with such elan, but that he did so with an almost contradictory sense of humility and love, and enjoyoed himself immensely. One look at him and you knew that he had no presumptions. And along with his little jokes and trivia, he sent out his message loud and clear. One, that this is a moral universe, and ultimately, truth will win. Two, that the Chinese government must "Please do the right thing". And three, "God is not Christian". I loved the way he put this last one across..."The Dalai Lama is easily THE holiest man I have ever met. Do you think God is thinking, 'Hmmm...this Dalai Lama, he's not a bad guy...but he's not Christian'. No...God is not thinking that, because God is not Christian". This was said with a real sense of amusement and conviction, and followed by thunderous applause (here, in Brussels, i have sensed a genuine disillusionment among Christians with their religion and the Pope, and perhaps he said this because he was aware of it).

The Dalai Lama gave an address to formally close the ceremony. This was probably the most eagerly awaited part of the event. But it was disappointing for me, because he spoke in Tibetan and his translator spoke in French. So while I managed to gather the gist of his speech, I failed to connect personally with him. Yet, his sheer presence was more than I could have asked for.

After the ceremony, I chanced upon Desmond Tutu in the crowd, and I grabbed the opportunity to fold my hands and tell him what an absolute pleasure it was to hear him. He held my face in his warm hands, and gave me a look that I cannot even attempt to describe. I had no such luck with the Dalai Lama, he had disappeared soon after.

PS: Did you know that the Light of Truth Award has been conferred upon "the People of India" for their support of Tibet? It was collected by the then President R. Venkataraman.
PPS: As a gift, they gave each of us a copy of Tintin in Tibet. except, it's in Esperanto. in the hope that one day, we'll all speak the same language (a bit much, don't u think?!).

gestation

2006-05-31T12:52:00.000-07:00

as imagined by s.h.raza.

fall from grace

2006-05-30T04:13:00.000-07:00

i was recently gifted a spanking new bicycle...a gorgeous white and orange (and no sushma, the orange isn't autumn sunrise like my hair :)). the last time i rode was in the 8th Std, when i'd ride my precious electric blue cycle to school everyday. that was moons ago. and that was VERY different from riding now.

riding a bike in bombay then, one was faced with unique challenges. most of them were to do with manoeuvering. manoeuver carefully around garbage, potholes, autos and 2-wheelers. and of course, people and dogs. once you got the knack, you could actually cruise along the main roads despite all the obstacles (no, in those days, 8:30 am in juhu was NOT traffic-jam time). in fact, soon enough, you could even ride without your hands. of course, riding in the monsoon was a different ball-game altogether. you never got to cruise, but you felt the thrill of the raindrops stinging your face and you entering school looking like a something-bedraggled-that-the-cat-dragged-in. no, the raincoat was never effective enough against the strong winds. and anyway, soaking in rainwater was way better than soaking in perspiration, which was inevitable every non-monsoon afternoon on the ride back home. other than that, it seemed rather simple.

riding in brussles is expectedly different. first, your new bike actually has gears. and 24 of them. for a machine-phobe, this unnecessary complication is terrible news. anyway, you struggle with trying to get the right gear combination for yourself, and finally you do. then, you ride on the 'wrong' side of the road. why can't the whole world drive like india and the UK? worse, at every signal, you have to alight, and walk your bike across the road. so no scope for cruising...so you say, bah, too boring. let's go ride in the woods nearby. you've seen enough people biking and running there, of course you can do it. except you forget that the woods are characterised by criss-crossing 'kachcha rastas' around the lake, that many tyres have rolled along. and the deep furrowed ridges they leave behind are tricky because if you bike right through them, u may not come out easily, especially if it's slushy because of recent rain. and if you go around them, you're likely to skid anyway. good times.

of course i skid, despite what i thought were a number of brilliant swerves and saves. so much for my 8th Std days of cocky, handsfree riding!! at the ripe age of 30, it's quite something to fall off your bike. and while my knee is scraped and blue, it's my ego that's bruised. as if the terrible hair colour wasn't bad enough...the universe is conspiring against my efforts of turning into an elegant woman! i may as well give up and laugh!

2006-05-29T00:25:00.000-07:00

A man was walking along one day, and came upon a sadhu. He went towards him and bowed low to touch his feet. The sadhu asked him gently, "Why do you seek my blessings?". The man replied without hesitation, "O Sage, you are great because you have renounced the world, it's riches and joys. Your sacrifice is supreme. Such a sacrifice is beyond me. Hence I bow down to you." On hearing this, the sadhu rose, bent down and touched the man's feet. The man, utterly shocked, stepped back and gasped "What are you doing, O wise one?".

The sadhu replied, "I am touching your feet, because you have renounced The Lord for your wordly pleasures...hence, your sacrifice is far greater than mine."

someplace else

2006-05-26T02:31:00.000-07:00

intertwined
with my very being
i carry you
everyplace i go
you are
my silent shroud
my only wish
my lacuna

you are all
i have ever known
it is in you
that i found home
you know that i try
to live and love
but i sometimes feel
too far gone

i define, i label
but it doesn't set me free
and though you are here
i still cannot see.

my white bird

2006-05-24T09:42:00.000-07:00

thank you for flying into my life.

artist - g.a.dandekar

as you and i go about our lives

2006-05-23T07:48:00.000-07:00

artist: shefali bhatnagar

as you and i go about our lives
our joy lies sleeping sweetly

10 days later

2006-05-22T13:17:00.000-07:00

my hair is no longer 'junkie-from-amsterdam red'. now, it's a 'bombay-urchin's-sun-bleached orange'.

the hublet can't believe anyone in their right minds would do this to themselves. he looks at me quizzically, every now and then, probably thinking, "if you hate yourself, there are other ways of showing it."

i will survive. my self esteem may not, but never mind that!

2006-05-16T10:17:00.000-07:00

artist: sanjeev saikia

jaane na nazar
pehchaane jigar
yeh kaun jo dil par chaaya
mora ang ang muskaaya

remind me

2006-05-15T01:17:00.000-07:00

artist: shuvaprasanna

remind me
that this is not the truth
that now is the time
for me to learn

that i must not resist
that i must let go
so i allow my self
to overcome me.

remind me now.
and remind me how.

ladkiyon ke naatak

2006-05-13T01:05:00.000-07:00

the difference between auburn and red is GLARING when it's the colour on your hair. pata nahin mujhe kya bhoot chadhaa, i thought i'll get my hair coloured. after all these years of having the same colour, i thought, maybe a change will be nice.

so i excitedly walk into the salon, and tell them what i want. they show me a range of coloured hair strips, and i pick one which is really just dark brown, and shines a lovely auburn in the sun. i imagine myself with hair highlighted with a beautiful colour, shining gloriously in the sun, and i let them bring it on. they do their job, while i happily dream away, little knowing what the end result is going to be like.

not only has she highlighted too many strands, she has screwed up the shade as well. now, i look like a junkie from amsterdam, with bright red streaks on my hair. where's the elegant, graceful woman who was supposed to walk out of that door in my shoes?

i have been told that after a few washes, the brightness of the colour will subside, and then it'll look closer to the colour i chose. and pigs fly.

and no, the hublet hasn't seen it yet. he will see it today, and will probably want to hide behind a mask, to not be seen walking around with me.

SIGH!

radio ga ga

2006-05-11T01:11:00.000-07:00

this is for kundalini, vb, gift, and now joy, who together constitute my on-blog radio.

your passion for music
and mine for rhyme
has given me many
enjoyable times

i listen to yr links
when i come on-line
and sway in my room
to the melodies fine

it gladdens my heart
as i prance around
so thank u for the music
and the beauty of sound

...

2006-05-10T09:58:00.000-07:00

aaj kal paaon zameen par nahin padte, mere.

jai gurudev

2006-05-10T03:58:00.000-07:00

i had the privilege of meeting sri sri ravishankar yesterday. i had attended the rajat jayanti celebrations a few months ago in banglaore, but i did not get to see/meet him up close then.

i have not been his devotee or even a follower. i greatly appreciate the sudarshan kriya that he has devleoped, having experienced its benefits first-hand. but i was not mesmerised by his pictures or his voice, or the idea of him. the first thing actually that bothered me about him was his rather pompous sounding title "sri sri". i recall asking a friend of mine (who had begun working with the AOL foundation) why he referred to himself thus. and she mentioned that he didn't. his devotees called him sri sri, as an expression of their loving respect for him. it didn't convince me.

then, when i did the AOL course, i heard everyone around me say "jai gurudev". there was a large picture of his, adorned with fresh flowers and burning incense. it all made it seem like a cult, and yes, it made me uncomfortable. i was interested in the breathing exercise and the yoga, and all the "guruji this" and "guruji that" disturbed me. and even while i practiced the kriya, i haboured doubts about him. i could never look upon him as a personal god, the way his followers did. in fact, i have always been resistant to reposing all my faith in a single person. to my mind, he was certainly a highly accomplished spiritual soul, but not THE person in whom i should believe, exclusive of all others.

and then i met him. the doubts about him that i had harboured vanished when his first glance fell upon me. the ocean of peace and love that was him simply embraced me, negativities and all, and that was it. i had no doubts, no questions left in my heart. when i touched his feet, he blessed me and said "jai gurudev". it was THEN that i understood what 'jai gurudev' meant.

yet, when i sat around him with about 10 other people, for whom he was undoubtedly THE one, i felt a bit odd. i am still not mesmerised to the extent that i can call myself a 'proper' bhakt, that i can devote my heart and soul to him and only him. perhaps i am myself not ready to receive his love fully. but now, i feel a profound respect and awe for him that i did not feel before. i feel humbled and peaceful. and yes, i feel truly grateful to have received the blessings of such a spiritual being.

good times, dude

2006-05-08T01:35:00.000-07:00

sam, a close friend from univ, visited me last week. we were meeting after almost a year, and it was lovely to have her here for 5 days. she's been to brussels before and has had her fill of sightseeing, so we just hung out...watched a few movies, caught up with each other, laughed and did nothing of consequence. and we talked of the times we shared in univ, and how we got there in the first place. we talked of all that we did while we there, and those that we didn't.

so sam - this one's called "good times, dude".

to tell you frankly, no lies,
our acceptance was a surprise.
we were recruiting mistakes.

each time we came up with 'buts',
just couldn't gather our guts
to enter the library alone.

we googled our way through life,
our multiple moments of strife
we spent hours at the vending machine.

we climbed the chess ladder,
and really couldn't be gladder
that we could just laugh at our state.

the namaz and the meditation,
praying for our salvation
together at the crack of dawn.

buttered scones and brocolli pasta,
dreams of the sun and mid-day siesta
kept us going through it all.

the pre-submission madness
the abject helplessness,
we tore our work apart.

and am glad we did so,
for without all that slicing
it wouldn't have been as much fun.

we were 'cabbaged' most of the time
and we concocted silly rhymes
just like this one.

banaras

2006-05-01T23:41:00.002-07:00

i visited banaras many years ago, for conducting research. i was there for three days, i think. i was really looking forward to seeing it, given all that i'd heard about the place...the centre of hindu spirituality, the ghats, the ganga, sarnath, banaras hindu univ. the city itself was like any other small-town or semi-urban indian city - crowded streets, gaily decorated shops, blaring horns...the usual. what bothered me was the ganga.

i'd been to the ganga (dip et al) as a child, but i have only a vague recollection of it. this time around, i was curious and excited...i got there an hour before the 6 pm aarti, so i could walk around and explore the place, and soak it all in. i saw more plastic bags floating on the river than those washed up on juhu beach, and all sorts of rubbish...bits of saffron-coloured cloth, tiny packets of haldi and kumkum, threads, the odd glass bangle, etc. parts of the river looked abused, not just filthy. and i was saddenend. my naive self had visualised a beautiful blue flowing river that laughed along it's way, and here it was, a grey water-body burdened and slowed by waste. i recoiled.

after a while, i got over it. and the aarti was immensely enjoyable, though i knew none of the bhajans or chants. it was a lovely atmosphere, the men with their peaceful faces, the women with their bright saris and flowers, the kids standing around, half praying, half distracted. my mind kept rushing back to the plastic bags, and i tried hard to erase the memory. after the aarti was over, people set afloat their offerings to the ganga...little baskets of lit diyas and flowers, and sometimes, coconuts. and yes, they all took a dip. i stood there feeling stupid: part-cringing, part amazed, part irritated. cringing, at how one could dip in such dirty water, which would surely breed illness. amazed, at how it didn't seem to disturb the devotees at all, at how they calmly went about it, assisting their children. and irritated, at my inability to feel that devotion.

before i knew it, the sun had set, and the ganga took on an entirely different avataar. the river was now a beautiful black body, breathing softly, sparkling where it caught the moonlight, sequined with the diyas flickering in the breeze. the voices around were somehow softer than before the aarti had begun, with kids laughing and parents directing them towards the main pandit to touch his feet. others splashed water from the river on their face, and swept the remaining dampness of their hands on their head.

i stood there, considering doing the same. a part of me screamed out in protest and revulsion, and my eyes could see nothing but floating plastic bags. with a lot of effort, the other part of me pushed aside the ugly memory, and i re-focused on the beauty around me. and suddenly, with lightning speed, i bent down towards the river, cupped water in my hands and did what the others had been doing.

PS: post inspired by the movie 'banaras' which i watched last night.

no more ulta-pulta

2006-04-27T22:29:00.000-07:00

imagine the hues brighter and distinctly different from each other, and you'll "get the picture"!

anyway...this is my attempt at depicting ardh-naareshwar.

panchatantra ki kahaaniyaan

2006-04-27T00:15:00.000-07:00

i remember my dad narrating these wonderful stories to me many moons ago, and me listening to them in rapt attention. some, i also read through the lovely "amar chitra katha" series. perhaps the warmth of my dad's embrace as he took me on many exciting journeys with all sorts of animals, and the imagination these journeys fired in me, led me to revisit them.

visnu sarma's "the pancatantra" is a fascinating collection. it puts together not only the fables themselves, but also an exhaustive introduction that brings out the depth of knowledge this precious work embodies. it is replete with translations of the original sanskrit verses, some of which do not even seem to belong to a body of 'animal stories for children', as the panchatantra is often categorised. the book is like a key that unlocks the door to a magical, long-forgotten world, one where the child and the adult can be equally mesmerised. as i read through some of the stories, they slowly come back to me from the hidden recesses of my mind, but with new meaning. this book reminded me that the most powerful thoughts in the world can be conveyed in the simplest and most unpretentious manner.

there are many many stories that i would love to share...but for now, i will instead quote a few verses.

"How did Ravana fail to consider
how wrong it was to steal another's wife!
How too was Rama unable to see
that a golden deer could never be!
And how did Yudhishthira as well fall prey
playing game of dice, to calamity!
As a rule, in the face of adversity
that causes men's mind to whirl in a daze
the intelligence loses its clarity.
Fettered fast by doom's deadly coils
the feeling heart fate-burdened,
the judgement of even the great
goes with twisted, crooked gait.
Though caught in the throes of calamities
if a person's wits do not forsake him,
he will safely cross to the far shore
and enjoy supreme happiness and more."

i always wondered why ravana and yudhishthira did what they did. especially yudhishthira..i could never come to terms with how a righteous and respectble king could objectify his own wife and pawn her like a possession (ravana, i reasoned, fell prey to lust). this verse does not yet give me a straight answer, but offers at least some consolation.

and also:
"What is not to be can never be,
what will be comes effortlessly;
what one is not destined to have
is lost even as it lies on the palm of one's hand."

i only wish that i had learnt this without searing pain. many other verses and stories are swimming in my head. in time, i hope to construct my own understanding of them.

the world of desperate housewives

2006-04-27T00:11:00.000-07:00

i was recently introduced to ''desperate housewives'' by our friends the hungarian tornadoes. having first ignored the hype aruond it and then shrugged it off with utter disdain without even having watched it once, i must now confess that i am hooked. as u probably know, the 4 main characters have impossibly super bods. they all look 22 (even if one of them has 3 small kids and 2 others have teens) and live in swanky houses. despite this, the serial strikes a chord. it raises questions pertinent to our life and times, and does so with humour...sometimes wry, at other times morbid and often ironic.

consider some of the events: oh no, today my kids disappeared on me and i don't know where to look for them! oh no, my hubby is home early and i'm in bed with the gardener. oh my god, the new man i fancy is just like my ex-husband! oh hell, my son drove over and almost killed a person and feels no remorse.

the questions raised, i think, are mostly to do with value-systems. how does one cope with the transition from a hot-shot corporate star to a harried mother of 3 who fails to get her kids even to buckle their seat-belts. why is there a lack of trust and respect among spouses? how does one find a lasting, fulfilling relationship? how does a mother ensure that her teens are not walking the wrong path?

the serial may communicate these events in a casual or even comic way, but i think it is underpinned in serious and complex issues. at its core, it deals with the daily madness in people's lives: the challenges and fire-fighting, the inability to cope effectively (or effectively enough), and the consequent sense of failure by the end of the day. and then again, the next day's challenges & fire-fighting...the anger and dishonesty portrayed are mere manifestations of a cumulative sense of failure and dissatisfaction. but why is it that people are increasingly unable to respond appropriately, or healthily, to a given situation? in short, how and when did we get into such a sorry state? the serial forces the viewer to engage with this very bald fact, and it is here that it hits out at the very heart of the problem. it offers no answers, of course. but it encourages the search for it.

of course, the mystery element is a big hook as well. but this is different from a regular spy-story or thriller, or even the X-files variety BECAUSE it plays out mundane and daily insanities of life rather than the aberrations. also, this everyday insanity of life and its repercussions are not experienced by housewives alone. the jet-setting CEO, the college nerd, the beach bum, the boy/girl-next-door, all experience their own insanities, their own fire-fights. perhaps this is why its popularity has crossed all segments: its ability not only to talk to but dialogue with a much wider audience. it just may be that housewives ostensibly need the greatest sympathy.

song of the day

2006-04-26T15:08:00.000-07:00

it's like ten thousand spoons, when all you need is a knife

it sure is ironic, alanis! and like u said,

life has a funny way of sneaking up on you
when u think everything's ok and everything's going right
and life has a funny way of helping you out
when you think everything's gone wrong
and everything blows up in your face

life has a funny, funny way.

learn to be still

2006-04-26T15:04:00.000-07:00

artist: partha bhattacharya

it's just another day in paradise
as you stumble to your bed
you'd give anything to silence
those voices ringing in your head
you thought you could find happiness
just over that green hill
you thought you would be satisfied
but you never will
learn to be still

we're like sheep without a shepherd
we don't know how to be alone
so we wander around this desert
and wind up following the wrong gods home
but the flock cries out for another
and they keep answering that bell
and one more starry-eyed messiah
meets a violent farewell
learn to be still
learn to be still

now the flowers in your garden
they don't smell so sweet
maybe you've forgotten
the heaven lying at your feet

there are so many contradictions
in all these messages we send
we keep asking
how do i get out of here?
where do i fit in?
though the world is torn and shaking
even if your heart is breaking
it's waiting for you to awaken
and someday you will
learn to be still

- the eagles

...

2006-04-26T15:03:00.000-07:00

we went for a fun trek in the forests of ardennes. well, they call them forests though they're more like woods, just like they call the rolling hills there 'mountains'. so i should've guessed, that when they said 'castle', it wouldn't be like the many rhine castles that i'd marvelled at recently. but the trek itself was very enjoyable. for once, god decided not to play party-pooper, and refrained from covering the sky with his favourite grey blanket. the sun was out and shining, and it was a lovely day. we had a map, and made our way through pretty patches of trees and budding flowers and gurgling brooks.

the amusing bit was the castle. someone pointed towards it, and i turned to look. a ruined fort (more like a baby fort) stared back at me vacantly. it was probably one-tenth the size of the fort in jhansi, but it obviously took itself very seriously. it had a formal entrance, where a sombre looking chap charged us for entering the premises and for visiting the museum below. We were each handed a leaflet with a plan of the 'castle', and we began with the museum. down we trooped, along a narrow spiral staircase, to find ourselves in a dark room about 5m by 5m. proudly displayed encased in glass were a few bones, a model of the origianl fort, and some broken pottery. that was the "museum". then we walked around the castle, which had certain parts of the structure neatly numbered from 1-16. each part was explained in the leaflet. typically, it would read something like this: "1 - door to private room', '2 - keep'. '3-kitchen area'. it was meticulous though not detailed, and as one found one's way around the place, it helped imagine what the place must have been like in its glory days.

i came away amazed at how, in europe, the smallest bit of history/culture is preserved, amplified and marketed. and how when one visits these places, there really is nothing great about them, but they still draw tourists and even appreciation. i think back to the palace and bhool-bhulaiya in lucknow, and the smells of urine in the corners makes me recoil even now. of course, there are enough places in india that ARE well-maintained and visited and admired (eg. the main palaces, wild-life parks, monuments etc), but there are SO many more pieces of heritage that have been lost or lie rotting, unknown . thankfully, though, i believe that efforts are on to preserve, clean and beautify at least some of our cultural and historical architechture. here's hoping that we do half a good job as the europeans have.

"balle balle" and "she doesn't have any best friend"

2006-04-26T15:01:00.000-07:00

we spent last evening at a friend's place. it's a family of four, with two lovely daughters, aged 7 and 3. the two are simply adorable together. expectedly, the younger one mimics every single thing her elder sister does, bobbing around her, after her, and on top of her, all the time.

neither girl speaks hindi. i of course am mortified about this, but it's a non-issue for both parents. yesteray, the mother said that i was free to talk to them in hindi if i so wished. so i went one step further, and taught them balle-balle, complete with the shoulder and hand movements. after we'd danced around saying balle-balle a few times, we decided that they would greet their dad with the same, when he arrived from work. since there was still some time to go before he would come home, every 10 min or so, i refreshed their memories by repeating it. the 7 yr old easily remembered both the phrase and the movement, while the younger sibling could focus only on either one initially, but soon perfected it. the bell rang, and the girls' little worlds were mad with excitement. the reception party comprising both girls could barely stand still and stay quiet, behind the door...they had planned to jump out at their father. as always, the moment stretched forever, until finally the dad arrived. at the right time, they leaped out, shouting and dancing. the dad, used to a jubilant welcome, was not taken aback by them jumping at him out of nowhere, but they would not stop doing balle-balle until he did it too. so there they were, a party in full swing, while my friend and i couldn't stop laughing. it was a moment of simple and unadelterated joy, one that i hadn't had in a while.

another episode. the elder one had drawn and cut out a mask, a girl's face, and used bright pink feathers for ears. her face had been coloured pink, she had long eyelashes and a smile. and on the paper was written ROSIE. i thought it was really original to use feathers for ears (if i had to use feathers on a face, i'd have unthinkingly used them as hair), and i told her so. she was thrilled, once i'd explained what 'original' meant. then i asked her who Rosie was. and she said, "my best friend" (the mother quietly told me it was the name of her favourite doll). then, "no...actually, jenny is my best friend". the little one was quietly observing all this, and probably felt left-out. she chimed in, "i also have a best friend". to which pat came the response from the elder sis, "she doesn't have any best friend". all eyes and ears were now on the little one, who was suddenly feeling intense performance pressure. she bravely said "i have". the 7 yr old continued, "who? who? you don't have any best friend.". this was said with a flourish that meant "and that's the end of the conversation". the little one, not to be beaten, piped in, "mallika". i said, "yes, mallika!! malika's your best friend.". for tthat, i was granted a beaming grin. the elder one, slightly sheepish now, turned to me and says, "she has only one best friend. i have many". the mother, who was busy making coffee all this time, said gently, "but best means only one. you can't have many best friends...only one best friend". the elder one, full credit to her, recognised the logic of the comment without seeing it as an assault. the 3 yr old's beam had now reached her temples. the elder one then said, "but mama, anni is also my best friend." anni took this as a cue to jump into her sister's lap and give her a hug, and eveyone lived happily ever after!

thank you so much, A and I. and yes, you can have as many 'best friends' as you like, and remain best friends for each other.

tra la la

2006-04-26T14:58:00.000-07:00

artist: shravan gopal gurav

i won't ask
i won't ask
but listen, i will

to your silent enjoiner
your gentle reminder
your voice so still

and as i pantomime
to your script
i won't lose myself
or sail adrift

my yen and me
will both dissolve
as we dance together
to your resolve.

simply love this one

2006-04-26T14:56:00.000-07:00

artist: nikhil chaganlal

just wish the artist had signed at the bottom, or in black! but then again, it's his painting...

rheingau und shwarzwald

2006-04-26T14:54:00.000-07:00

just returned from a lovely 3-day jaunt to the rhein valley and the black-forest. for the longest time, germany never really featured in my list of "charming" or "must-visit" places. but the last few months have changed that. have only been to the south-west, and that too, mostly, places along the river. almost any village that lies on either side of the rhein is simply gorgeous. around 30 castles & fortresses dot a 70 km stretch of the riverside, and each one is out of a fairy-tale. the valley is the source of a fair amount of german history and folklore, and also plays host to numerous festivals during the year, especially in spring and summer.

yet, more than history, politics or mythology, today, the place is known for its wine. the reisling grape, grown only in this region (though exported everywhere now) is the pride on the rheinlanders. for two people who "know" precious little about wine, the wine-tasting was quite an experience. my knowledge of wine has now widenend beyond its colours :). though i'm certainly not turned-on by it...i mean, ok. so i can learn to appreciate the subtleties of flavour and aroma and blah-blah, but theek hai yaar...i don't get what's SO great about it ki you must have a cellar and store different types from different years etc etc. we know some who do, and i love seeing there eyes light up when they talk about their wine-collection...i just know that my eyes won't light up talking of wine! too bad if that's uncool.

we had only a day in the black-forest. at the cost of sounding repetitive, it's gorgeous :) it definitely merits a longer trip, at a sunnier time...so we can go hiking. and have you ever heard of green garlic? i hadn't, and we had a green garlic soup that was delicious!

and while we were there, s pleasantly surprised me with his knowledge of the german language...very impressive!! each time i wanted to thank the waitress, i ended up saying "merci" instead of "danke"!!!! so there i was, wishing the earth would open up and swallow me each time i made the faux pas, (which means every single time we ordered something to eat/drink), and there was s, charming the waitresses and never failing to get a smile out of them...for not only saying 'danke' but also placing his order in german, changing his mind and asking for something 'ohne' something! this, when i'm the one who learnt the language briefly 15 years ago :)

PS: and i finally tasted "appel strudel"...this is what julie andrews was on about? it's clearly apple-pies for me.

the blogosphere

2006-04-26T14:53:00.000-07:00

my experience with blogging has been a bit like moving into a new city. the first thing one does is find one's place. here, it's more like defining your space. slowly, the newness sinks in, you soak up the environment and before you know it, you've established your own comfort zone. you get to meet new people, most of whom welcome you warmly. some you never see again, and others become a part of your regular circle. you start visiting people, some more often that others. and through your interactions, you form a sort of 'relationship' with them.

i find this kind of relationship quite fascinating. it is honest, allowing absolute freedom of expression even if the identity of one or both parties is unknown. there is a lot of learning and intellectual stimulation, as well as fun (at least for me there has been, thanks to you interesting people who have been nice enough to offer your views). it is detached, yet caring (more than evident in the case of a co-blogger who is going through a hard time; if you know who i'm talking about, you'll also know the extent of concern that people showed in their own way). and what i like best about it is the absolute lack of expectations. i don't expect either your visit or your comments, but of course i'm happy that you do.

the most intriguing aspect, i feel, is that what i share here, i actually would not share with many people in my 'real world'. even if i did express my thoughts on a particular subject, i'd definitely never do so in the exact form. and no, i don't think this has anything to do with the anonymity the cyberworld permits. some co-bloggers may be good friends, but i'm still not likely to come up either with such a range of ideas, or their creative expression with them BEFORE i began blogging. perhaps this is because i know i can ramble, rant, rhyme or ricochet on my blog without needing to think about judgements being passed, because i have nothing to lose. i can just be. in this sense, at least some other bloggers, if not many, also "just are" on ther blog. consequently, i get to know those i already knew in a new light. and others whom i didn't know, in a way i think they are.

in addition, i get to rediscover myself, with some objectivity. it makes it that much more fun.

thank you, my blogfriends.

thought for the day

2006-04-26T14:52:00.000-07:00

Desire, ignorance and inequality form the trinity of bondage.

- Swami Vivekanand

the halcyon

2006-04-26T14:50:00.000-07:00

You fill the sea
with a lake's quiescence,
that Dusk never thought
Dawn could bring.

You fill the void
with your luminescence,
that Day never thought
Night could bring.

"hey, it's mine"

2006-04-26T14:47:00.000-07:00

artist: vasudeo kamath

i race with the moon
the stars in my eyes
i'm blinded by your light
the path's a surprise

now i pull the kite
now the kite pulls me
either way i'll touch you
for you'll be there for me.

for auspicious journeys

2006-04-26T14:45:00.000-07:00

for me
from me
through me
i ask you
to come alive

for you

2006-04-26T14:42:00.000-07:00

artist: ramesh gujar

thamm gayee hai dhadkan meri
thamm gayaa hai aasman,
tu jo mujhse milne aaya
jaaoon ab main aur kahaan.

ghumm hui thi dhadkan meri
ghumm hua tha aasman,
seher jo tune hai dikhaayi
mera mann ab mast yahaan.

sunn rahee hai dhadkan meri
sunn rahaa hai aasman,
har lavz jo tune hai sunaaya
dauhraaye tera jahaan.

wordless and stunning

2006-04-26T14:40:00.000-07:00

artist: arvind kolapkar

oil on canvas, i think.

the four-letter word

2006-04-26T14:39:00.000-07:00

visa. yet again. i can't believe that r has been rejected a schengen. a true globe-trotter, this is a shock! he was supposed to attend a conference in paris. and then, come to visit me. not anymore. r, it must have been your snap...why didn't you shave ??!!

and of course, the french embassy has not deigned to offer a reason for the refusal. i mean, REALLY, what's the matter with the world ?

many calm, deep breaths.

but again, REALLY, what's the matter with the world ?

worse, what's going to be the implication of this rejection on future travel? r, will you EVER get to come here? like, in this life?

so visa officer,
now you have done
the blackest deed,
you're the pits indeed.

now how is r
to live in this world?
woes are he and she,
and woe is me!

one of those days

2006-04-26T14:38:00.000-07:00

when the stillness in the air weighs on you like a ton of metal, cold and hard.
when the tick-tock of the clock reminds you that nothing has changed, really.
when your reality casually drops in, smiles, and leaves.

it's time.

bok of the day

2006-04-26T14:24:00.000-07:00

shantaram - by gregory david roberts. a book that brings alive the soul of bombay, and indians in general. here's an excerpt from the 1st chapter -

The first thing i noticed about bombay, was the smell of the different air. i could smell it before i saw or heard anything of india....i was excited and delighted by it, in that first bombay minute, escaped from prison and new to the wide world, but i didn't and couldn't recognise it. i know now that it's the sweet, sweating smell of hope, which is the opposite of hate; and it's the sour, stifled smell of greed, which is the opposite of love. it's the smell of gods, demons,empires and civilisations in resurrection and decay. it's the blue-skin smell of the sea...and the blood-metal smell of machines. it smells of the stir and sleep and waste of sixty million animals, more than half of them humans and rats. it smlls of heartbreak, and the struggle to live, and of the crucial failures and loves that produce our courage. it smells of ten-thousand restaurants, five thousand temples, shrines, churchjes and mosques, and of a hundred bazaarsdevoted exclusively to perfumes, spices, incense, and freshly cut flowers. karla once called it the worst good smell in the world...But whenever i return to bombay now, it's my first sense of the city - that smell, above all things - that welcomes me and tells me i've come home.

for spring,

2006-04-26T14:22:00.000-07:00

wherever i may find her.

artist: lynne taetzsch

god bless elisabeth

2006-04-26T14:20:00.000-07:00

the housekeeper at the kurhaus hotel, den haag, for
- finding my engagement ring which i forgot to pick up from the table
- being honest about it
- for keeping it safely to give s

but most of all, for reinforcing my faith in the goodness of people.

and god, while you bless elisabeth, can you also PUHLEEEEEEEEZE bless me so that i finally stop doing such stupid things!

she, my devil and me

2006-04-26T14:17:00.000-07:00

"how was india?", she smilingly asked
when i met her for dinner last night.
after briefly describing my wonderful trip
i started to feel a tad slight.

for she'd launched forth on how she ensures
her hubby's home by 7 each night,
on how she established before moving here
that he won't travel, come what might.

that he will spend every single moment
with her and the kids, and keep the family tight.
"you poor thing, your hubby leaves you alone
4-days-a-week?", she mocked outright.

her painted lips parted, a sympathetic sigh,
mascara-ed pity filled her eyes, large and bright.
she had touched a raw nerve, and is it a surprise
that all i wanted was her head, to bite.

"i pretend to myself that he's my weekend keep,
so we still like each other!", i tried to made light.
but she persisted, that she would never
"settle for this, because it's just not right."

i told her this was a short-term compromise
for our long-term goals to remain in sight.
but she insisted till, to keep from feeling envy
and definitely anger, i had to really fight.

so the devil in me tells me to say the next time
"your excessive control must surely give him a fright.
with no time to himself, he must be mentally drained
i think the poor man needs, from you, respite."

but to stoop like this, does it make me feel better?
i wish i could say yes, but no, not a mite.
and anyway, at the the end who are we to say
that this is wrong or that is right?

a post on posting

2006-04-26T14:15:00.000-07:00

urgent question to all you co-bloggers:

did you ever

type a few words
only to delete them,
or modify the same
looking for a gem?

tap your fingers
and silently wait,
contemplate the wall,
and curse your fate?

feel a blank
in your head,
randomly think
of the weather instead?

tell me you did
so i'm not alone,
this must be writer's block
for i feel like a stone.
nothing seems to fit
no matter how i try,
perhaps it will come
by-and-by.
so until then,
my partners-in-rhyme,
i bid you adieu
to bide my time.

epiphany

2006-04-26T14:13:00.000-07:00

i feel you in

the dance of the dervish
the sun on the snow
the flow of colour
but only so.

be with me
as i try,
and within me
even as i go.

colours become me

2006-04-26T14:04:00.002-07:00

yesterday, i put brush to canvas after almost 15 years. initially, i just stared at the canvas as i stood facing the easel. the large white space intimidated me. it was already perfect, its texture, its depth, its simplicity...my touch would spoil its beauty. so i stood there awed, and hummed and hawed. until finally, colours became me.

the smudged colours on the pallette beckoned my hesitant hands. the paint-brush felt like an ill-fitting finger rather than an extension of myself. my strokes were tentative and uncontrolled. the turpentine wafted its long-forgotten fragrance. rothko's brilliance mocked me from the desktop. until finally, colours became me.

and i saw that colours were me.

thank u c, for loaning your paint materials.
and g, for showing me rothko.

colours become me

2006-04-26T14:04:00.001-07:00

colours become me

2006-04-26T14:04:00.000-07:00

inspired by iqbal

2006-04-26T14:02:00.000-07:00

and a coversation with g:

mere khwaab tho hain mubarak
main jo unhe bas jaan loon,
sabse gehri meri aarzoo
kaash use pehchaan loon.

itni aawaazon ke beech
mann kaise woh ek jaan le,
khamoshi mein bhi jo goonje,
jo mujhe aabad kare.

ek zindagi aur itni raahein
yeh bhi, woh bhi, chaahti hoon
mere liye hain khuli baahein
har manzil, gar maan loon.

nameless

2006-04-26T14:01:00.000-07:00

sataata hai, chidhaata hai
chupke se rulaata hai,
hosh nahin aagosh hai
apni hasi mein fasaata hai.

dhoondti hoon main tujhe
zindagi ki aapa-dhaapi mein,
ismein, usmein aur khud mein,
tu tho sirf muskuraata hai.

jitna tere kareeb aaoon
utni hi door jaata hai,
kabhi khwaabon mein bulaata hai
kabhi sazaa de jaata hai.

cheekh-cheekh ke thak gayi
ab ek chuppi chhaayee hai,
hasaate, rulaate, chidhaate, sataate
tu hi mujhe sikhaata hai.

vasudhaiva kutumbakam

2006-04-26T13:58:00.000-07:00

the loveliest nuggets of wisdom jump out at you when you least expect it. i first learned this phrase when i was conducting research in benaras, at least 5 years ago. there i was, in a large room with cement flooring, big pictures of gods and goddesses on the blue walls, the fan whirring noisily above me. my recorder and papers lay on the table, ad i was ready to interview my next respondent: housewife, SEC B1B2 (middle-class demography), aged betn 25-35 years, consumer of Surf Excel. This being my 16th interview of 20, i felt like a classic case of researcher fatigue - i was wondering whether my new respondent would add anything to the body of information that i had already gathered.

the interview began in the most unassuming and ordinary fashion. introductions, rapport-building, family members, interests blah blah. the same product attributes identified (isme rang-birange daane hain, iski khushboo achchi hai etc) , and the same benefits associated with them (lagta hai saare daag mitaayega, kapde fresh honge etc). but the benefits led on to produce new values, startlingly different from the ones i'd got so accustomed to hearing. the most common ones were to do with self-esteem, duty of a god wife/mother and financial security. but nowhere before had i come across an interviewee who derived, from the same product benefits, the values of patriotism and honesty.

despite having realised that i was dealing with a rare interviewee, i was totally taken aback when she calmly rattled off a sanskrit shloka that ended with these two words: ' vasudhaiva kutumbakam'. then she explained it to me quite simply - ' iska matlab hai ki poora vishwa ek parivaar ho'. one world, one family. i walked away from that interview marvelling at the fact that a simple lady who leads a 'stereotypical housewife life' could hold such lofty values dear.

the art-of-living foundation, headed by sri sri ravi shankar, is celebrating its rajat jayanti from tomorrow till feb 19th, in bangalore. their theme happens to be 'vasudhaiva kutumbakam'. their purpose - to bring the world together with love, and to live as one big family. a verse from the theme song:
ishq hum apne dil mein lenge,
ishq hamara lakshya hai,
ek hee saans lenge hum sab,
sabko gale lagaaenge.
vasudhaiva, vasudhaiva,
vasudhaiva kutumbakam.

in an era of religious clashes and communal disharmony, i think we need to work consciously towards this goal. of course, singing songs based on this motto is far from actually practicing it. but at least it's a start in that direction. and isn't it awe-inspiring that one ordinary Indian woman shares this dream, independently, with one of the leading gurus of our time?

real and unreal

2006-04-26T13:56:00.000-07:00

this post is inspired by a conversaton with kundalini (sorry g i don't know how to type your name as a link!!) and an interaction with a very unique two-year-old. this child did not know what chocolate is, she had just tasted ice-cream for the first time, and she thought of five ways of using a balloon-stem without being asked. she has never watched telly. seems unreal.

her parents are educated, well-off and wonderful people who live and run a resort in the mountains of uttaranchal. they have consciously brought her up without the influence of TV, play groups, amd malls. they want her to learn what the real india is about. so her friends include flora and fauna as much as children. her toys include stones, twigs and things available in the house as much as dolls and wooden doggies. she has learned the names of flowers by touching and seeing them, rather than their pictures. she curves the balloon- stem and is able to call it a U on the one hand, a moon on the other (she does not say ' crescent', but you realise she means it). and she speaks in hindi though she knows the english alphabet as well.

is this relatively 'natural' way of bringing up a child better than the 'modern' way? the facets that the child is exposed to and socialised in is perhaps what makes the difference. will this prepare the child for the 'real' world? what is this 'real' world anyway? only competition, violence amd strife?

more questions. what is holistic upbringing? how can this be made possible? is keeping it simple a way out? packing a child's life with dance and drawing classes (or whatever else) in addition to school tuitions, i think is more likely to turn them into androids rather than complete individuals. i don't have any answers, and am aware that there is no one 'right' way. i just think that we need to question how we (will) bring up our children. for we will shape our own reality and that of our chldren.

lend me your ears

2006-04-26T13:55:00.000-07:00

of all the strange things that people manage to do, bursting one's tympannum will probably not occur to you. never really thought that this can actually happen. i somehow accomplished this yesterday. so here's a list of lessons i learnt from this weird experience.

no. 1: NEVER close your nose and blow into your ears to pop them when you have a cold. the pop can be deafening, in more ways than one!
no. 2: follow no.1 especially if you have a flight to catch in the next week. or your holiday is over even before it began.
no. 3: if you really want a blocked ear, go for a long swim - at least it'll be less painful.
no. 4: an ear-ache is more fun than one that spreads to the head.

if your hearing remains unimpaired despite it, it actually isn't all that bad. here's why:
no. 5: it provides a unique excuse for not making the calls you were obliged to but didn't want to. no. 6: unlike an acute toothache where your jaw can swell up, your face does not distort itself into a potato. so you are spared those sympathising looks.
no. 7: a bleeding ear is better than a bleeding tooth...you neither see it nor taste it.

mera kuch samaan

2006-04-26T13:54:00.000-07:00

the walls have locked within them our secrets, but returned our stories. the bathroom mirror will meet me one last time tomorrow, to say goodbye. the dining table will befriend and share meals with a new family. the steep staircase won't hear us grumble about our lack of fitness. the windows will have someone else look over their shoulder. the door will no longer wear the badge gifted by the landlord's children - the colourful drawing that lovingly says 'd and surach'. and the kitchen will never again hear me say "how can u be so small???". our home will become a house. but only to become home to someone else.

tandurusti ki raksha

2006-04-26T13:52:00.000-07:00

karta hai lifebuoy...lifebuoy hai jahaan tandurusti hai vahaan...LIFEBUOY! come on...you have to agree that old-world jingles like this one are simply priceless. they never fail to amuse me.

some of the other classics:
- tata ka ok dhulaai ka sabun, ok ok haan tata ka ok. jhin-chik jhin-chik, ok ok haan tata ka ok.
- paan parag, paan masala, paan parag. tain-nain-nain-nain-nain.
- "aur phir bhediye nein sumthing se kahaa, main tumhe kha jaaoonga...". vicks ki goli lo, kich-kich door karo.
- goooold spot, the zing thing. gold spot.
- dip, dip, dip. add the sugar, and the milk, and it's ready to sip. if you want it stronger dip a little longer, dip dip dip.

and then of course, the legendary "aaaaah, la la la la laaaah, la la laaaaah. Liril!' can you think of any current jingle that would stay with people 20 years hence AND make them smile?

`a mon avis

2006-04-26T13:51:00.000-07:00

c'est une mouvais idee. il est tres difficile, le francaise. je peux parle lentment, mais je ne comprende pas quand les gents parles. Ils parles tres vite, donc je comprende seulement en peu. le phrase je parle surtout est "pouvez vouse parle lentment, s'il vous plait?"! c'est une phrase je sais tres bien.

(a long long pause as i stare at the screen, searching my mind desperately to construct a complete, accurate sentence.)

donc! je'ssaye et je'ssaye parle francais, mais quand je dis quelque-chose dificelement, le pesronnes parle anglais! apres, je dis que j'apprend le francaise et donc je ne vois pas parle anglais. mais ils sourient et continuee dans anglais. merde!

le francaise, tu me teu!

a prayer

2006-04-26T13:49:00.000-07:00

Lord grant me
the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
courage to change the things that I can
and wisdom to know the difference.

- Anonymous

visa dreams and nightmares

2006-04-26T13:46:00.000-07:00

o visa officer, please let me be,
isn't it too much what u ask of me?

passport, photos, pay-slips, papers,
proof of residence and so much more.

proof that i am not a criminal
proof that i will return for sure.
proof that someone there wants me
proof that i will be paid for.

proof that i am my friend's friend
proof that i am my husband's wife
proof that i am unemployed
proof that i've had 30 years of life.

proof that i have travelled wide, indeed
that that too without any black deed ,
that each time i flew i did come back
without any bombs in my ruck-sack.

but all this proof is still not enough
must you be haughty, be so tough?
you give me nightmares while u sleep so well
my life in your hands, isn't that swell?

yet i cherish my visa dream
that the time will come when you can't scream
for i will use potter's invisible cloak
and through the world i will happily float.

i won't EVER need a visa,no one will dare ask
for if they do, i will take them to task.
this time around it will be me
who will have you grovel for mercy.

o visa officer, don't forget
what u do is what you get
the day you retire and want to fly
my child may be your visa officer,
you can kiss your visa goodbye.

a few of my favourite things

2006-04-26T13:43:00.000-07:00

starry nights and sunny morns
dolphins, zebras, unicorns
rhythm and dance
laughter that rings
twinkling eyes
ylan's apple-pies

yellowed pages and dog-earred books
sunchymes and kitchen disasters
hot saunas and ice-cold dips
masala chai and sea-salt crisps

snow-capped mountains
chrysanthemums
graceful pirouettes
babies' soft bums

the smell of a bakery
dusk and dawn
singing loudly
the silliest song

late night chats of meaningless madness
folk tales and songs of sadness
watching movies back-to-back
till my eyes are sore and my head hurts
drinking too much coffee at one go so
i can 'do stupid things faster with more energy'

the bhelpuri-wala's grimy hands
the taxi-wala's psychedelic idols
the optimism of the riskshaw-wala
marine drive and mondegar

the frenzied janta
the pelting rain
the sultry summers
the crowded trains

old friends and new streets
ice-skates and board-game cheats
the secrets of the universe
and of the child

the unsaid but heard
the unseen but felt
the unknown but familiar
the lost and the found

my father's hands
my mother's smile
my nephew's hug
and s.

the great leveller

2006-04-26T13:42:00.000-07:00

so we're born and then we die. we experience the magic of birth and the devastation of death. we always take birth to be the starting point, but death could be the beginning too. or maybe neither is, or both are. according to hindu philosphy, there is no beginning and no end. living finite lives with our limited ability to understand ourselves and the universe, we try and try to conceive of and experience the "truth", the infinite. the more fortunate among us succeed. others despair, still others persevere.

when it comes to death, one is always seeking some sort of consolation, in the hope that it will assuage the pain, facilitate the coping. the christians and muslims believe in the concept of heaven, and that reassures them a place with the gods in the after-life. hinduism proposes reincarnation. i am a believer, so it provides some consolation for me. i cannot speak for the atheists and agnostics, i do not know how they rationalize death. but whatever the consolation, it is after all, just that: a mere something we tell ourselves to make us feel better, to somehow convince ourselves that the departed has transitioned to a better state, transported to a happier place.

and yet, when you have to face the death of someone you love, all these abstractions somehow fail to crystallize into an effective coping mechanism, at least initially, when the wound is still very raw. ironic, for that's when one needs it the most. to me, death is the greatest leveller. it humbles man like nothing else. the helplessness hits you where it hurts the most. it rocks your world, slices you like a knife and leaves you begging. begging for mercy, for strength, for salvation.

r and s, i pray that you do not have to beg. that you find the strength you need. and that even in the face of death, your zest for life doesn't die.

shabd

2006-04-26T13:40:00.000-07:00

long drives have a way of filling yr mind with wide-ranging thoughts...philosophical, funny, rhetorical, strange, sobering, saddening, searching, random. while on one such drive amidst pristine white snow-covered vistas, my mind found its way into the domain of words. i simply love words...in particular, phonetics. of course, semantics are nice too, but there's something in the way some words sound that captivates me. the lyrical quality of certain words, to me, can lie in the meter or sequence of the distinct sounds that form its composite whole, or it can be embedded in the entire word where the individual elements fuse such that they cannot be broken up.

so here's a (very incomplete!) list of some of my favourite words.

hindi/urdu/punjabi:
mehjabeen, aashiaana, sparsh, akshat, seher, jind, zikr, saaz, saanjh, suroor, surkh, bazm, shehzaade, saakshi, dehleez, samar, sharm, toofan-mail, dheeth, dhyaan, grahan, arz, lekin, aanchal, bazaar, larzish

english: sparkling, stream, splash, mingling, supercaliflagellistic-expiallidocious, idyll, swarm, sequin, sprinkle, ream, azure, onomatopoeic, apoplectic, pertinacious, schadenfraude, squelch, elixir, peripatetic, fop, tickety-boo, besmirch

what are yours?

PS: a 'sparkling' new year to all.