Curiously blank.
Writing the last line of the last essay question in my closed book exam I felt immense relief as I put the last period. Lifting my head up for the first time in about an hour, I noticed my entire class was head bent furiously writing. I felt bewildered. Did I answer all my questions? Turning the pages front to back and back to front, I duly noted everything was filled in. All objective type, all essay questions complete, replete with graphs and equations.
This could not be true. I gathered my stuff and made as silent an exit possible. Handing in my paper, I murmured “It was a pleasure working with you.” and smiled back as eyes twinkled behind his glasses. Throwing away my water cup, I walked unharried towards the front entrance. I was torn between waiting for my classmates to be done to discuss the paper and a fear that if I waited, I would know what a terrible sham I was.
It was one of those papers I wrote non stop. I had no idea if I was spewing rubbish or actually making sense. Concepts got intertwined and mixed up as my pen scratched the paper surface. No longer sure if the graph had to move left or right, if the axes were labelled correctly, I emptied everything in my mind on paper.
Driving back home, I realized my shoulders and earlobes were still tense. I had to relax. Breathing deeply, I realized this was the point of no return. I cannot undo anything in the paper. I just need to be patient and wait for the scores. I have no idea if I did badly, OK or well. I will not know either.
The feelings of anxiety and nervousness were reminiscent of a time when I walked out of exam halls picking up my bag, lounging by the water cooler, waiting for friends to trickle out one by one. The looks on their faces would give away how they felt. As we trudged home, we would exchange notes on questions as we remembered each one. Either giggles of joy or painful sighs would interject our conversation. Beyond that the exam would be forgotten in the anxiety about the next one.
Years later, nothing has changed. I feel as anxious as ever and strangely very blank. I can’t remember the questions or have the inclination to open the book to see if what I wrote was right or wrong.
As I unwind and try to put the exam behind me, I realize the task I have set for myself is rather arduous. The excitement of starting school is slowly wearing away and the burden of studying in addition to working is showing. The end seems far, far away!
It’s Holi!
Rads’s post on Holi sent me back on a trip down memory lane. I have only ever celebrated Holi once. I hate being ‘dirtied’ in color and dreaded stepping out on ‘Holi’ should some enthusiastic stranger decide to anoint me with gulal. I escaped all my school years simply because Madras and specially the suburb I grew up in had very few people who celebrated.
College in Coimbatore was different though. There were occasional episodes of being unwillingly made colorful. The final year however, saw me and my friends plan to celebrate it. The details are hazy now, but I have memories of running in the ground near the stadium with a friend determined to apply color following me. A little while later, the bunch of us were summoned to the AO’s room and given a nice lecture on ‘decency and decorum’. I got a special lecture as well since the AO was friends with my father. I remember the boisterous feeling evaporate and feeling very small standing in front of him.
Looking back, I wonder if I never really enjoyed the festival because it is a festival of sponatenity and I saw myself as prim and practical? Or I felt it was something alien to me. Looking at all the holi wishes and pics on facebook makes me want to celebrate now.
Happy Holi!!
Dinner and a movie equals learning the fun way
Ploughing my way through lunch, I look at the printed sheets that lay scattered in front of me. One is a schematic and the other a list of questions for discussion. I put them away and I am eager for the day to be done. Tonight is a dinner and movie night in class. Admittedly, for the $$$ I pay for each class, learning should not be this fun. But it can be. Like today. As I read the questions again, I realize how a popular medium like cinema can teach us lessons. As we sit engrossed in the story, we absorb more than just the storyline. The awkward silences, the non verbal gestures, the feelings of ego and pride that are reflected in the arched eyebrow or the sneering lip.
I can’t wait. The movie we are to see is 12 Angry Men. The instructor is treating us to pizza as well. As I reflect back on the past nine weeks, I realize I have enjoyed his method of teaching. His way of keeping us involved with the content of the course. There are times when I long for the structure that a ‘class’ in my past would have been but that is more of an adjustment to be made from my side. I enjoy the assignments as they make me think and I feel hurt when the grades don’t reflect my expectations. In all, another week and this term will be done. We then move to more serious topics like Statistics and Marketing next term.
So, while I wait it out till 6:00 PM, I hope the rest of you have better things to do with your time than I do with mine. 
I knew it! There had to be a reason!!!
After three friends forwarded this to me in a space of two days, I knew I had to have it up here. Remember our parents forcing us to do this as kids as punishment? Well! there seems to be a reason. Parents’ do know best after all!
Why Ten? Cos Apar says so!
Apar tagged me a couple of weeks back asking me to link up ten of my favorite songs in my native tongue, Hindi and English. At least that is how I understood it. I am most definitely not going to list 30 here but thought I will take this up so I can look back on the songs that have touched me in different ways.
Mere Khwabo Mein Jo Aaye – DDLJ
Yes. Really. This song personified my life around the time I was eager to be in love. I loved the song and the lyrics because it made sense to me in that phase of my life.
I was blown away when I heard its lyrics because I was so in love with the idea of love. It was like I was just waiting for someone to walk into my life so I could put a face to all that I had imagined my partner was going to be.
I realized what a die hard romantic I was when I heard this song. I really did want to know some one this way.
Careless Whispers – George Michael
This song is from a time in my life when my best friend was my headset and my walkman and casettes borrowed from friends. I have never seen the video of this song but I always imagined it to be very nice.
Loved this song the very first time I saw it. The picturization, peppy music and the fresh faces made this one of my all time faves.
Mundinam Parthen – Varanam Ayiram
My current favorite. I love the haunting music and the melody of the score
Don’t you know you are beautiful – Kelli Pickler
I know this now. Wish I did years back.
Aathaankarai Marame – Kizhakku Cheemaiyile
A song I have listened to many, many times and appeals to me just like that.
Thoda thoda Malarendhenna – Indira
One of those songs that made an impression the first time I saw it.
Love, love, love this song for the lyrics.
I guess I could go on and this might not even be indicative of my true favorites. My faves change based on my current mood and the list I have here is what crossed my mind at the time I started typing this up.
What I realized doing this is that most songs that stay with me do for its lyrics rather than the music. I have to understand what the song is about before I enjoy it. While I am not tagging anyone, if you do decide to take this up, leave me a comment. I’d love to see what you come up with.
Have a fun week ahead everyone!
The Girl who cried “Spring!”
Waking up this morning I was unmistakably warm. Peeling off my socks, I stopped a moment to strain. I could hear a cacophony of bird sounds right outside my window. I smiled involuntarily and went downstairs for my favorite morning coffee. Looking out the window, I saw the Sun was no longer directly ahead on the horizon, it was at an angle to my home. Skipping a beat, I peeked at my backyard, hint of green was everywhere.
Getting ready to leave for work, I reached for my regular winter coat and for a moment paused. I let the coat go and reached out for a lighter fleece instead. Out the door, I opted for the open back shoe over the boots I have been wearing for ages now. Humming to myself, I opened the garage to a pleasant chill rather than a burning cold on my face. I loved it.
The last time I felt this way a couple of weeks back, we were hit with a snowstorm a few days later. As much as I believe Spring is definitely on the way, I can’t help but be wary. It’s too soon to celebrate I tell myself. But the signs are there. The Sun is up earlier, it sets later. I am feeling cheery. It might be too soon for the mulch people to come over but my step is light and my heart is singing.
Spring!!
Like a breath of fresh air
I logged into GMail this morning to find an email from a classmate from almost 20 years back. I was pleasantly surprised. As she brought me up to date on her life, I was wondering where I should start in my response to her. All through my harried cooking, rushing to work and sitting through meetings, the question burned at the back of the brain.
I was reminded of the hushed whispers in the staircase next to our classroom a few of us sat and gossiped or exchanged scandalous tales about our classmates. I remembered her glasses and the sharp features. I remembered something vague about her moving to France. Over the years I remembered her name and that was it. In my exchanges with other class mates I have been in touch with, she never came up much. So, today hearing from her brought back a rush of memories. All pleasant.
As I hit reply, I was stumped. I had no idea how to condense 20 years of my life in two paragraphs leave alone on the small time margin I was operating on. I started and backspaced a couple of times and decided to skim over everything that really mattered. In my eyes. I told her I was married, had no kids, was working for so and so and sent a link to a few pictures and asked to see some of hers.
Long after pressing send, I still wonder if the little girls in us wonder about the days after the board exam. If we wonder about summer crushes or our starry dreams from back then. If we remember the way we proudly wore our identity in an initial. In a class populated with plenty of goody two shoes, she represented a breath of fresh air. I remember her being left handed and having a handwriting that was the the envy of our group.
Little nuggets of information popping up at random intervals. That’s what her email did to me this morning. I valiantly stare at a chunk of code while the back of my mind remembers insignificant details. So, whether or not, we go on to retain contact and become friends all over again, I thank you S for the pleasurable memories you brought back to me.
What have I been upto?
Work has been keeping me super busy. I have always wondered why folks I know work weekends or spend their waking hours glued to the laptop. Now I know. It does get that busy occasionally. For probably the first time in my life, I go to bed beat and wake up craving a few more hours of rest. With papers due for class and a final exam next Thursday, I am feeling overwhelmed and drained.
Growing up every time some one older to me said “Enjoy for what its worth, you will never get this phase of your life again.” I would cringe. I wanted to be all grown up. I wanted to go to ‘office’. I wanted to be big and busy and saddled with responsibility. Now, I know better. I long for a break. I long to get back home and relax instead of working on assignments to be turned in the next day. I long for a weekend where I have nothing better to do than cook and clean and shop.
So, while I spend my break wishing for things that are not going to happen any time soon, I hope your week is better than mine.
A weekend to remember
Friday saw me work from home, take a break to get gifts for my mom and bro, enjoy a conversation with an African born Indian that set me thinking and rush to my brother’s home to enjoy the yummy food Amma made. As I struggled to balance work and family, I remember feeling incredibly blessed to be able to have both.
The weekend was a non stop riot with my darling niece with both us sisters fighting for her attention. We read out loud to her, played peekaboo, throw and catch and catch me if you can. For the two days I was with her, I felt young and carefree. I laughed out loud, smiled more than I usually do. Driving back home Sunday afternoon, I relived every bit of the joy I experienced holding her, hugging her and kissing her. For the nth time, I thanked God for the pleasures of having family live nearby.
The rest of the afternoon saw me struggle with my paper. With K due to arrive in a few hours, the last thing on my mind was the management policy of Ben and Jerry’s. After I jotted down whatever little I understood of the case, I picked up the phone and called my BFF Akay to unwind. And talk we did. For close to two hours. Loading the dishwasher, cooking, cleaning and picking the stray piece of dirt on the floor, I did a quick scan of the house and felt happy with what I saw. With less than five minutes to leave for the airport, I hung up and raced to get ready. Bro arrived and we set off for the airport with an impending snowstorm and memories of getting stuck in the ice still fresh in my mind.
Back home, watching my bro drive away, K and I lugged his baggage inside and he went to freshen up while I heated the rather simple meal of rice, rasam and kootu. Plate in hand, we caught up on the past five weeks. Two suitcases open, jars of pickle, audio cds, a dvd pack of Malgudi Days, a couple of salwars, a set of bangles from Hyderabad, momentoes from SIL and BIL, a framed portrait of K’s family and plenty of pictures from the trip were set aside to be processed and savored later.
As we called it a day, I slept with a smile knowing I did not have to drive myself to work the next day. Or shovel the driveway or process the mail or put the trash out or feel responsible for anything in the house. I felt happy, child-like and loved. I am happy K is back!
Two birthdays and an anniversary
Waking up alone in the house for the first time in a long while, I tapped the alarm. Pausing a bit, I set a timer for 15 minutes and rolled back to a few more minutes of glorious sleep. The timer went off and I bounded out of bed. Brushing my teeth I realized it was the day! Birthdays in the family and a work anniversary.
The sun was just coming up and the smell of percolating coffee smelled heavenly. I picked the phone to sing a song for my mom and bro. With sis in town, it sure was the time for a good get-together. Except that no one picked the phone. I left a message and sat down with my coffee.
Reaching home yesterday after class, I realized how desolate it felt. I was so used to having Amma stay up for me. Every single day. Have my clothes laundered and folded without my asking. Having tins of snacks on the island for when I might be hungry. Fresh food ready each day before I left for work and as I came back in. In those everyday little moments, I felt the warmth of her love. I also realized I do precious little for her other than accuse her of being partial to my siblings. So, Amma for this one day, I take back what I said. I love you and I hope you know that.
As for my brother, he has grown on me over the years. Growing up, I detested his quick tongue and his air of superiority over me. The first time I felt his affection was when he drove out all the way from South Carolina to Pennsylvania to meet my fiance K. All for his sister. Every time he calls and says “Enna dee?” I thank God for the circumstances that keep us geographically close. The day I was stuck in ice and snow, he must have called me every five minutes. In a way, that is what kept me connected and sane. Even if I don’t gush over you like I do with Amma or others in the family, I love you dear bro and I hope you have a lovely, lovely birthday! I am proud of having you as my brother and a cool one at that.
As if all this is not cause for celebration, I also turn three at work. The changes are there yet it always is a pleasant shock to realize I am starting to grow roots here. Here’s many more years with my company for me!
Have a lovely Friday and a gorgeous weekend!
Moving landmarks. Fading memories.
Catching up on the day’s events, something K said over phone caused me to choke and pause for a bit. He had been to M.G Road in Bangalore today and said India Coffee House is moving. I felt an emotion akin to closing of the Woodlands Drive In in Madras. Both these places have one thing in common. Great coffee and an ambiance that reeks of an old world charm. And many, many hours sitting and chatting with friends.
Long after I had hung up the phone, my thoughts were still in M.G Road. The elevated sidewalk with a view. The K.C Das in the corner, Koshys, Aggarwal Bhavan, G.K Vale, ICH, Navratan, Max, Gangarams, Ullas and many more. Each of these places have sweet memories associated with them. A job interview at Koshys, Chole Bature and rant sessions at Aggarwal, portrait at G K Vale that netted K, hours of non stop arratai with a friend that was a turning point in many ways, shopping for thin sinewy golusu at Navratan, sandwiches and french fries at Max.
The years of roaming M.G and Brigade roads all rushed through my head before quieting down to a sober realization. The world as I knew it was fading. And there is nothing that can be done about it.
They came. They saw. They cleaned.
For the second time in five years, I had a cleaning service come home to flush out the dirt and dust I had accumulated in my personal pixie’s absence. They showed up at the door at 8:00 AM sharp. Four of them went to work in different corners of the house and in two hours they packed and left with a check in hand.
As I watched them clean I realized a few things. I felt apologetic almost for watching them work. I could not some how see it as a service for which I was paying them. As one person cleaned my bath room, I felt I had to apologize for the sorry state it was in. As another cleaned the floor patiently first with a vacuum meant for hardwood and later with a wet mop that gave of a mildly pleasant smell, I hopped out of his way and felt like I was intruding on something private. As much as I wanted to see how each of them worked, I was worried they would think I was staring impolitely or micro managing them.
An hour after they left, I am still sitting and wondering about why I feel the way I do. I think a lot of it has to do with dignity of labor. Growing up in an environment where the occasional scolding would include “if you do not study well you can graze cows” or “work as a maid” seemed to reinforce the feeling that it was a shameful thing to do. Now, I know better but it explains why I feel like I have to treat any one doing a manual job with extra care and walk on eggshells around them.
As I revel in the clean and fresh smelling home, I realize I have a long way to go in unlearning a lot of things.
It is written. No?
Following Manchus comment here, I couldn’t help but pen down my thoughts on the ceremony yesterday. It was probably the first time I have paid the Academy Awards this much attention. There are snatches from previous ceremonies like when Halle Berry won that are etched in my mind. For some strange reason I even remember the detail on the dress she was wearing then.
So, yesterday I settled in front of the TV around 5:30 PM my time till about 11:30 or so when it was all over. Yes. It was predictable. Yes. I was somewhat embarrassed by the pink choli wearing dancers performing to the music from Wall-E in between O Saya and Jai Ho. It felt garish and out of place for me. Like GreatBong explains here so well, I did not think the movie was Oscar worthy.
Yet, amongst all this, I cheered each time I saw a brown face in the crowd. I was excited to see the whole crew of Slumdog walk the red carpet. I felt deeply offended by Ryan Seacrest holding up a slip of paper with the names of the kids’ on them. I used to feel a mild dislike for him till yesterday. Now I positively hate him. I felt it was insensitive, snobbish and utterly unprofessional.
Every time I took a break, I would tell Amma to call me if it was Resul or Rahman’s nomination being announced. In spite of that I did miss Resul’s acceptance speech because K chose that moment to call me. But I got to see every bit of ARR’s presence at the Oscars and it felt wonderful. For someone who grew up listening to his music I remember how much of a path breaking thing it was when Roja released. My favorite metaphor for something growing on me over time is ARR’s music. It has that kind of an impact. So watching him give a shout out to his mom or Mumbai thrilled me. I was hoping he would say something in Tamil and I had goosebumps when he was done.
Am I upset because people are calling Slumdog poverty porn? No. Am I troubled that we are celebrating what is in essence a win for a Britisher made movie starring a British born actor? No.
To me all that matters is that ARR was recognized on a global platform. The fact that Resul got an Oscar is amazing for the shadow industry that keeps the movie industry functioning. The kids who acted in the movie have a great story to tell decades from now. To me they were what made Slumdog worth watching. Their spontaneity. The movie captured the vibrancy of desi street life for me. So, whether the movie was made to play to Oscar ’sterotypes’ or peddles the not-so-glossy part of India Shining is moot.
Perhaps it was written.
Atheist, Agnostic or just plain clueless?
Looking through a cousin’s profile on Facebook, I was struck by her declaration of being an Atheist. As much as it surprised me I wondered if she meant to say Agnostic instead. Not sure if I understood the difference myself I looked both words up.
Merriam-Webster dictionary defines Atheist as one who believes that there is no deity and Agnostic as a person who holds the view that any ultimate reality (as God) is unknown and probably unknowable ; broadly : one who is not committed to believing in either the existence or the nonexistence of God or a god
These thoughts have been swirling in my mind for a while now. About two plus years. Losing my father set a chain of thoughts in my mind that is yet to settle. All my growing years I confused rituals with religious views and thought of myself as an atheist. I wanted to have nothing to do with a God that imposed so many rules and regulations and discriminated against me because I was a girl.
In my high school we were exposed to many lectures about Vedanta and philosophy which I quite enjoyed and was curious enough to dig deeper. Over the next few years I picked up books on philosophy from different parts of the world and imbibed some ideas which appealed to me.
Now an adult, I am not yet sure what is it I believe in or want to believe in. While I still sort my ideas out, there are a few that stand out. Karma and the concept of the cycle of life. As I create my own personal faith, there are things I am easily able to fit in – like a reverence for the force of Nature and some that I struggle with – the concept of Karma and cyclical nature of life.
As I go through this process, I am interested in knowing if any of you think about this consciously. Are you a firm believer in the tenets of your religion or like me are you ambiguous of what it all means to you personally? Whatever it is, speak up. I really would love to talk about it.
