Fear of the dark

It’s a starless night. It doesn’t matter. The windows are shut and the blinds are drawn.
I’ve locked the world out and yet they bother me.
I lie in bed reading, hoping to fall asleep. These things don’t come easy anymore.
It’s cold, but I can’t do without the fan clamoring in the background.
It blocks every other noise out. It’s a familiar calming sound, almost like a lullaby.
Weighed down by a room full of emptiness, loneliness closes in on me.
I shut my eyes. It’s really dark in here.
Artlessly, demons of the past descend upon me whispering, “Our time has come”.
They seep into the depth of my soul. They know their way around.
Had somebody pledged my soul a long time ago?
“Did you really think I’d go away without knowing every part of you?” they sneer.
I cry in my sleep. Can you hear me?
My helpless hands grope for you, only to find vacant spaces.
I want to wake up but I’m trapped in my own dreams.
They’ve take over my mind. I’m a captive in this vicious cycle.
I feel violated but I know there can’t be another way out.
There will probably be another day. Dawn is only a few hours away.
There is no trace of struggle. Tears are traitors. They only scar in places you can never see.
At the break of dawn,the relief of sunshine brings inspiration.
Inspiration to face up to a new day and put up that façade again.
There is only one way this will end.
Someday we will say goodbye to each other. ---------------------------------------------- Dedicated in loving memory of Rach,Sheen and Seem. You may have left us too soon but you forever live in our memories.

August-The Month That Wasn’t

Well, I’m back! Blogging has been at a low end for the most part but this time I’m back with new vengeance. There’s enough space to clear my head, recount a story, exaggerate one and sometimes even make one up. (Sometimes it’s sooo worth not letting the truth come in the way of a good story!). Why would I not write?! The possibility of sharing a random rambling yet with no one in particular, not having to worry about sounding redundant or obsessing incessantly over trivialities...all of this is truly liberating. You could stop listening to me right here and I wouldn’t be hurt. Even better, I wouldn’t even know :D
So, write I will.
I was so caught up with August that I forgot to tell you that it was fantastic. September kept me drowning in grief and wallowing in self pity. Now that October is here, I’ve decided to make a fresh start at writing. Nevertheless, I cannot move ahead without telling you how special August really was! It kept me happy, busy and saw me getting a year older sprinkled with surprises and a lot of mollycoddling. I’m grateful for another year and all the amazing people in my life.
I dread birthday’s as much as I love them. Since I turned 20, it’s almost been like a deadly disease my parents have been living with for years now, having an unmarried daughter.
Somehow, it’s never really affected my parents as much as it has affected the world. Enough reason for me to believe I easily could be the daughter of the nation.
So when this national fever really builds up year after year my mother gets affected too, she is the biological mother after all. She habitually dresses me up like a temple elephant and parades me to every distant great grandfather’s maternal uncle’s son’s wedding.
I’ve obliged and been through this circus routine few times a year.
Trust me more than getting me married, my mother was hugely satisfied as long she got back home and got a few enquiry calls. It almost made her feel like a business magnet sitting on phone and investigating prospects.
I love digressing, anyways coming back to birthdays, like every birthday there was the whole surprise thingy. And somehow in the midst of all that banter I always forgot to get depressed about my age. Isn’t that simply the best part!
So this year I decided to give myself a gift too. I cleaned up my life, literally.
To me, there has been always been something therapeutic about cleaning. As outrageous as it may sound, cleaning out my closet sometimes makes for a favorite late night activity .This year; I did a lot more than my annual spring cleaning.
I got rid of anything that isn't useful, beautiful or sentimental. Trust me it takes a lot of determination when you’re emotionally attached to even safety pins.
Level one: So out went old clothes, shoes and memories not worth glorifying in a scrapbook.
Level Two: Heavier stuff. I decided to let go of people that didn’t matter anymore. It’s a controversial topic and sadly contemplative too.
So that’s that.
My friends took me on a surprise holiday to my favorite place in the whole wide world-Hampi! I claim to have been born there in all my previous lives. (Well, that’s another story to look out for!). I got back to Bangalore, all way worn and overwhelmed only to find myself in the middle of my surprise birthday party and all those birthday gifts. Well, wasn’t it Madonna who sang Material girl? :)
All in all- It was truly a happy birthday for me!

Window into a windy week

Its been all gloomy, deep inside and outdoors too!
Got back to a routinely uninspiring Monday morning. Except this time, I was only glad to leave behind the last week. It’s been a week since she’s gone.
I’m thankful though for today and everything that it holds. Like Calvin says, that's one of the remarkable things about life. It's never so
bad that it can't get worse. The last seven days have been eventful.
Best friend stuck in hurricane Ike left me chewing every nail off my fingers.
Boss thinks I need to be in office before 10:00am every day. He makes it a team rule. He is soaring high on the popularity chart.
158-year-old Lehman Brothers choked by the credit crisis have been forced into crying out Amen.
The working week pretty much a movie marathon to ameliorate my plaintive frame of mind. Dull days are for movies to takeover my life and they always seem to work magic for the cinemaphile in me.
Watched Mumbai meri jaan and a Wednesday, the Saturday blasts at Delhi followed soon after. Some timing, huh.
Communal comity seems to be a distant dream with every passing day. Sadly, we’re waking up every day to the acceptance of these very things.
Neeraj Pandey’s, A Wednesday may rekindle an awakening inside of you like it did for me. I hope to catch Tahaan one of these days.
Watched another flick that had been sitting in my rack for some time now…Meet the Robinsons. Liked the movie and loved the sound track, Little wonders by Rob Thomas.
Never really been such a big fan of Matchbox Twenty but this song is something else .Really!
The main chorus goes;
Our lives are made in these small hours, these little wonders, these twists and turns of fate…
Time falls away, but these small hours, these small hours still remain….
It’ll make quite an anthem for a small-things person like me.
Watched Sense and sensibility. I love anything to do with Jane Austen. Pride and Prejudice is one of my favorite movies.
I also loved Becoming Jane. There are so many more Jane Austen on my to-watch list.

I’ve started reading “The house of Blue Mangoes”, it was a gift from SRP. I’m sure he bought it for me so he can read it :)
Finally finished “Freedom at midnight” after putting it away for years. Think I liked Dominique Lappier’s “City of Joy” so much better or maybe it was because I was a lot younger?
None of my opinions have changed about partition. Found out something I thought to be an eerie coincidence, Jinnah died on the 11 September,1948.
Maybe I’m babbling. Yawn. Let’s call it a day. Nighty night.

On a day like today

I’m feeling under the weather today. Uninspiring work days when I shamelessly crave human attention. Medication leaves me staid, oats leaves my tongue dead and I make sure everyone around me has an equally bad time. My family and friends have learnt that the trick is to lionize and empathize, but somehow everyone put together can’t make up for my mommy.
With the very first symptoms come an aborning sense of mommy longing-ness.
I’ve given mine hard enough times while growing up, now that I’m so far away her life doesn’t get any easier.
So on days like today, I call mommy and make small talk on the phone, many times, all day. Puling over trivialities, pining for her attention and she already knows something’s up…“Is it the boss or are you unwell”?
Sigh. My mother thinks these are my only two problems. I must lead a very uncomplicated life.
I call up mommy today, woebegone. The first time I call, she is elated about an old friend she met after ten years who tells her she hasn’t changed one bit. Oh yeah, we can sometimes be vain! I don’t have the heart to dampen her spirits so I fake joy through the conversation.
I get back to work and decide to listen to a song that never fails to uplift my spirits….“I’m a Believer” by The Monkees. It’s the song I’d always wanted, to be dedicated to me. So, now you know!
I listened to it repeatedly, it helped for a while.
I try mommy again in a few hours, this time she leaves me salivating with the lunch menu, halfway through which she launches into a tirade about my inability to peel a potato. This is soooo not the anodyne I was looking for! I excuse myself quickly with a “Boss is hovering around my cubicle” story. Phew!
I want to pour out my deadly disease symptoms to mommy. After a few minutes of wallowing in self pity, I reached for the phone grudgingly, all set to whimper and whine. Fingers crossed and hoping she’ll ask me the million dollar question, “Is it the boss or are you unwell”?
This time she asks me if I have started saving yet! Can you believe my luck?
Then she starts off this whole thing about how she never asks me what I do with paltry salary and it’s about time I stopped shopping. Oh no…now we open an angrier discussion about all the shoes I own.
Mommy sure can burst bubbles or maybe today was just not my day.
Apparently, dwelling on my ailments is not doing me any good either! I feel worse than I did before I started off.
I’m gonna sign off for now and down some chicken soup.
Chick flicks, more chicken soup and few more phone calls. This seems to be my POA for tonight.

Intangible asset?

They'd just picked up his swanky new laptop on a vapid working day after office hours.
It gave him a nosebleed. He doesn't invest in fancy gadgets too often, says he's already spending beyond his means and looks at her accusingly.
She retorts grudgingly, "Mr. Only Son! I have to actually shell out my hard earned money; all you ever do is DDD (Dial Daddy Directly)!"
Her: "This has been one of your most expensive investments, in a long time, no?"
Him: (Very nonchalantly) "Not really…hmmmm"
She thinks to herself, he seems preoccupied and then returns to star gazing and when there are none which is mostly the case she looks at the endless hoardings lining the roads.
A few moments later, he says aridly …"No, it’s you."
She's a little lost…"What is me?” she enquires.
He: "My most extravagant investment by far is you"!
She is gloating half way through the star studded night skies she was only admiring a few minutes ago when he brings her down crashing.
He:"Any idea how much money I've blown up on you?"
For a split second all she could feel was her brain spinning around inside her little skull.
Needless to say, the next fight began right there.
You can't buy love, but you do pay heavily for it.
The Beatles should have known a little better when they were singing,Can’t buy me love!

And the rain came down...

Some wise man once said...Nature, like man, sometimes weeps from gladness.
I just love the rains.
Flirty monsoon gusts, car wipers that slide almost rhythmically, writing against the fine mist collected on the windshield, kids in gum boots going splitter splatter, bright umbrellas, rolled up jeans, paper boats in puddles, the sound of rain on rooftops, funky PVC bags, steaming momos and piping hot lemon tea.
All this, provided the heavens open out when I’m snug and safe within the four walls of my house. I can sit by the window with some hot chocolate and look out endlessly.
Have I told you how much I hate being trapped out in the rain?
Clouded skies, toxic drops of acid rain, flooding ditches and gutters, vehicles that spray water at your face, monsoon traffic jams, frizzy hair, dampness, wet clothes, seepage in buildings, umbrellas blown inside out, power cuts, thunder and lightning...God, I hate the rains!
But what I do love is the “after rain” effects...sunshine after the rain, the breeze that carries the smell of wet mud, desolate rain kissed streets, clear skies, beaming rainbows and hope.
I’m gonna bury myself in my cubby hole, book, quit et al. I hope it rains for a really long time.
For me,for the farmers,for everyone.

Dog Days(All puns intended!)

Have I told you about the time Andy thought he was dying of rabies?
Andy and I worked together in our first company and barely knew each other, coincidentally we quit around the same time. On our last day, once we got done with the swan songs with no office politics to be a part of anymore Andy graciously offered me a ride back home.
Enroute, to our astonishment we discovered that we were both joining the same company in a few days!
Our employer, then a start up in India was the perfect breeding ground for everything but work with an unfledged set up and no supervision… and that’s when I got to know Andy better.
He’d almost have you believe he was twice his age. He strolled into office every morning with crisp clothes, wearing a staid expression and a blue Tupperware bag which I slobbered over relentlessly.
Andy’s mom is one helluva cook. He would let me have morsels that I could count on the fingers of one hand with enormous difficulty. So, like all good things in the world even those few delightful bites also came at a price.
Andy cant spell.
Not even with spell check, he spells words in ways that don’t even come close to how they are meant to be spelt.
I become Andy’s typist. He rewards me handsomely, in his miserly own way with a few morsels of food and the entire lunch box on Thursdays, that’s the perk!
You see, Thursday is the day Annie cleanses his system.
Unbelievable but true, he actually lives on fruit and fruit juices on Thursdays and that by far was the highlight of my working week. Thank god for Thursdays!
Andy is quite a paradox, self-confidence his forte and paranoia his strength.
Apart from catalyzing my hunger pangs, Andy also loves playing with his roadside doggy “Itchy”.
One mundane evening Andy returns from office to finds out about Itchy’s sudden death.
Andy is brooding over his loss, and trying to collect every last memory of his beloved Itchy and to his horror he realizes that Itchy had given him a big warm lick on an open wound the previous day.
That was their very last “special” memory and that’s when the trouble began.
He spent the next few hours running around his neighborhood investigating Itchy’s death.
It didn’t take too much to convince Andy that Itchy died of rabies.
He looked up the symptoms online for rabies and he realized he possessed all the early symptoms such as nausea, fever and head ache.
Early the next morning the quest for the best rabies specialist begins.
Despite having taken his rabies vaccines as a child, he left his days were numbered.
Four different doctors and four prescriptions later nothing had changed.
To worsen matters, he found himself with the symptoms of the next stages of rabies being diarrhea, severe headaches, fever and extreme shivering.
Andy was born with a beauraucratic spoon is his mouth. With his corrupt contacts Andy got himself an appointment with the President of the Rabies Foundation (Which I now know exists!).
Andy by now was given anti-anxiety pills by his fifth doctor (without exaggeration, really!). The pills were recommended for 4-5 days but Andy was on the pills for two weeks. It gave him a lot of solace.
He slept at work,slept at home and when he was awake he prayed ferverently to the gods for the most peaceful death possible under the circumstances.
The next few days were spent avoiding puddles, dogs, baths and waiting for that moment when he would actually be taken over by hydrophobia and would not be able to even look at water!
“Why, oh god would you want to subject me to this kind of a death even if I have to die..!”.This was the only thought playing on his head all day long.
And before he knew it two months were up and well, rabies hadn’t arrived yet.
He had passed all the tests and was well past the rabies mark.
Andy didn’t have rabies, after all.
He however has gathered enough knowledge on the subject to consider a career in it.
He does not socialize with dogs anymore and has turned vegetarian.
Andy and I don’t work in the same office anymore and despite him napping and malingering in office for the two weeks on anxiety pills, he has been promoted to Manager.
Andy still can’t spell but he now manages to use spell check without too much difficulty.
And, this is the story of how lives change.

The reunion of the sisterhood

Four pairs of feet that dragged in all that dirt...all puns intended.
Fifteen years of friendship.
When we were younger, we were a bigger group; few of us survived transitions between address books and growing up. As we stood there reunited at the airport, hugging, squealing and inspecting each other to see who had changed, I felt like we were still the giggly trio we used to be. Nothing had changed.
With us distance has never been much of a problem. We might not talk every day, but when we did, it more than made up for the times we didn’t.
Diya and I have spent time together at every possible opportunity but Pinkster was visiting after a decade
Like they say, the most defining moments in your life are never planned; this one just went by unplanned despite my obsessive rehearsing. When we met, we just broke into laughter and said to each other in a chorus” You’re just the same”! That was it.
Took me back to the time when I first met Pinkster.
Under the misconception that character profiling was my forte, I instantly decided she was not my type.
Adorable kid, everyone’s favorite and I was always mistaken for a little boy!(Thank you for the fantastic styling mom).She was always prinked up in the prettiest clothes and had so many dolls while I sported the shortest hair and played cricket with the boys. Clearly, I saw no scope for friendship with Barbie.
Fate dragged us together!
We were family friends, our mothers dragged us to the same kitty parties, our brothers were in the same class and played with each other all the time, we went to the same school and somewhere along the line Pinkster and I became friends. Next thing you know Barbie doll is climbing mountains, walls and trees with me and I was playing with dolls, learning to dance and trying to grow my hair!
Soon we became inseparables. I’d wished for a sister all my life but I never imagined we would be soul mates (Except for the time I fell into a stream and she burst out laughing instead of trying to save me!)
When her family moved, I never imagined quite imagined we’d remain best friends for life.
We’ve lasted all these years, shared our worlds and so much more.
The trip somehow made up for all the years we hadn’t been together.
We strolled down memory lane and animatedly dragged each other down amnesia lane to remind us of our not so favorite moments too!
Sluggish Sunday afternoons with lemonade and letting lethargy expands our horizon,
Many grimy hands in one lunch box, puppy fat and nonage pimples,
Swings that took us to the sky, exams that brought us crashing down to reality,
Secret caves, unexplored territories and taboo questions,
Phone conversations in “P” Language, personal journals and secret crushes,
Calling of spirits and the prediction of board grades,
Hangouts, gangs and friendship bands,
Truth or dare, frizzy hair and school fairs,
Punishments, homework and constant states of penury,
The nuns and the nones.
And my talent for remembering absolutely insignificant facts (Still my trademark!)
So that’s what we did for one whole week, reminiscing and reliving every old memory and gossip on who-is-upto-what. Talking late into the night, in different hotel rooms every night.
We made a pact to take this holiday every few years, hopefully with our respective families.
After this trip I’m convinced that nothing can ever come between us. That’s the thing about people you grow up with; no matter how different our lives might end up being we’ll always share that special bond.
One week went by in a jiffy...after a million pictures (imposed on everyone by me), breathtaking views, unexpected rains and unforgettable (most appropriately, for those of you who know!) memories we bid farewell to Himachal.
I returned home with heavy heart, (not to mention the backlog at work) you know how much I despise goodbyes.
Anyways, the good news is that there’ll always be something more to look forward to and more memories that'll last a lifetime.

Goodbye

They say, sometimes goodbye is the only way.
They also say that journeys end in lovers meeting, maybe that’s to console wishful thinkers like me.
Over the years I’ve wept through all my good-byes. They didn’t kill me, but they didn’t make me any stronger either because even now when it comes to a good-bye…I feel my knees wobble, voice tremble and heart-beat out real loud. However, over the years I have mastered the art of controlling the welling-up tears in timings ranging from a meager second to a good few minutes.
I cry a lot. I need no particular reason to cry. Predictably, the only time I don’t cry is when I’m pressurized to cry! At other times let’s just say I believe in cleansing my eyes every now and then and that qualifies as an essential Aswana activity.
I have earned quite a reputation over the years, incidents people will never forget;
Howling when I left the school and friends I had known for ten years of my life.
Teary faced and running after a moving train in true Bollywood spirit, when Pinkster left Wellington for good.
Over the years it’s mostly been sad movies/books/stories…in no particular order…not to mention Heartaches. Deaths. Bad bosses. Friends leaving (!). Fights with best friends. Bouts of delirious illnesses.
One lazy afternoon best friend break the news, he’s been contemplating moving. Really? Across the universe? No way! Before we know it the paper work is done, but there is a good chance the American embassy wont like his face and he’s now of marriageable age and certainly a potential threat!
Apparently they like his face and they don’t mind seeing it for a very long time. So we’re done with the shopping, the bags are packed and weighted, carefully repacked and weighed.
Farewell meals, parting gifts and we’re finally at the airport. I’m hoping for a bomb scare, maybe one that lasts a few months, that’ll be a first! God decided to disapprove the idea.
Final words and hugs. Waving goodbyes through the glass doors and last glances. I so love Bollywood. He doesn’t disappoint me entirely I detect a tear. Real men cry. (I’m gonna get killed for this!)
So we’re walking out of the airport, everyone talking about something vague.
We’re all headed back to our respective homes; I insist I can get home on my own. C’mon!
Its all vague, the entire ride. I settle to watch a movie as soon as I get home. I haven’t shed a tear. This could easily be a new record for me.
He calls before boarding the flight. I’ll miss you he whispers and I mumble back something neither of us understands. He insists I should put the phone down first.
The weekend is over and I’m finally back at work. It’s beginning to dawn on me, that I am the one locked behind in the same monotonous existence.
So while I’m still wallowing in self pity, having an overdose of my favorite anti-depressants (read chocolates)…he’s already calling me from across to world to tell me that I would love NYC.
This is the only time I sense an evil streak in him. He’s human after all. Life goes on and I thought that was my worst good-bye. True…yet.
I lost my grandfather a few months ago. I didn’t really know him too well.
As I walked in through the gate I could feel that my past was finally catching up with me.
Vague childhood memories, mostly in black & white, few times even sepia…after all I’ve made most of my association with this place through pictures.
My grandfather’s house. The house my father and his siblings grew up in, the house my mother stepped into as a shy bride all of twenty, the house where I sang to my grandmother two decades ago….
I spent most of my life being scared of my grandfather, and restricted it to an annual visit over the rest of the years.
We spoke for a few minutes mostly over a meal, I would timidly respond to his questions in my hardly impeccable Malayalam.
True to his military background, he stuck to routine and never once showed any emotion.
I don’t remember ever sitting on his lap, stroking his beard or even laughing with him.
As a child I remember being shouted at for wasting food, climbing trees and playing too close to the well.
Later I was given the disapproving stares mostly for the length of my clothes, my lethargic lazy demeanor lying around reading books all day and my noisy music.
I guess it was his way of showing he cared.
I come from a breed of emotionally suppressed humans. Ever met my father, for that matter even my dear brother…see the pattern here?
I could sing my dad a paean from a loudspeaker on the highest hill in Coonoor for the whole of Nilgiris to hear, if I know my dad he would be melting like a volcano deep inside but all you will ever see is that very impassive expression that I fondly call stony face!
When I heard my Appachen had passed away, I wondered why I didn’t think about spending time with him earlier.
I was always judging him without realizing I had played party to this relationship all along.
I never once told him that I loved him in my own way. I never tried to know him better. I never had a chance to even say a decent goodbye…to my own flesh and blood.
That’s when I realized what’s worse than saying goodbye is not having said goodbye at all.
I always wanted a perfect ending….but I’ve learnt it the hard way…hearts break, dreams shatter, memories fade, regrets wash away…nothing lasts forever…not even the pain.
Goodbye Appachen.

Break Away

I’m not too much of a caffeine consumer nor a big believer in the goodness of smoke/walk breaks.
I think anyone who has seen me at work realizes that I have enough walk breaks forced on me day in and out as I trot from one dreaded meeting to another.
When I’m on one of these work imposed walk breaks, I find myself admiring the people motley spread across various zones in the office, indulging in self righteous cloning to fit into the social mold.
Total strangers exchanging nods of rapprochement across their shared hot spots, Stimulants in the form of coffee and pretty girls sitting aplomb (talk about the absolute dearth of good looking men at work!), hysterical laughter in the corridors, ephemeral clouds of fancy perfumes, office couples who (sometimes!)make you wish you had your better half right by your side all day, the raconteur of every group animatedly reporting the latest gossip, pathetic souls hopeful for promotions looming in the background as they nod in agreement with every word the boss utters over their routine smoke breaks, high maintenance babes on the way back from the rest room freshly painted faces and the works, brotherhood of the stalkers, the mommy’s association engaged in agitated talks about the forthcoming school exams, strangers clutching onto resumes waiting anxiously in the lobby to be interviewed, the security staff looking at people suspiciously at the beep of every swipe card...the sheer diversity of the multitude of people...all the drama, the colors, the noises...makes for some unadulterated entertainment!
I couldn’t agree more…All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players; they have their exits and their entrances.

It’s all about embracing the differences!

I dedicate this post to some of my best friends from the north of our country,who truly love and respect the south as much as they love their own land.
This one is for you Pinkster, Tara, Nimi, Kanika, Saku and Pragu!

So, dear old AT is indulging in his quotidian, free caffeine at the office cafeteria (All alone of course!) and a Chomu (Chapatti oriented masses) comes up to him, points at the chair next to AT and asks him in hindi...”Kya yaha pe koi aa raha hai”?(Anyone coming here?). Poor Chomu had no clue about ATs antisocial status.
Anyways what follows is even funnier, AT looks up and replies, ”Aarum verinilla, kasara editho”!(In eloquent Malayalam….No one is coming,(Like duh!)you can take the chair”!
Chomu is shocked by the strange language thrown at him and immediately switches over to English, and AT, having proved his point, obliges politely.
Anyways, that set me thinking….why Hindi?
I don’t know what speaking Hindi with a south Indian accent is, but I believe I do a good job at it.
After years of wrestling with the language through school..I feel put to test even now!
All credit to Bollywood! Far from mastering the language, I can just about manage haggling with the auto drivers and shopkeepers
A lot of people live under the misconception that Hindi is our national language, hello ignoramus…it is our official language and one of the 22 scheduled languages of the country.
When there is clearly an invisible division between the north and south of India isn’t it unfair to assume that everyone knows Hindi.
Thank god for globalization and the IT boom, South India is actually on the world map and to the rest of the country we are more than just “Madrasis” down south! To their disbelief they discovered that the very same lot of Madrasis comprise of Tamil, Malayalam, Telugu, Konkani, Kannada, Coorgi, Tulu, Badga and Toda speaking masses with a multitude of dialects to boot!
Its 2008 and yet, we have to endear comments about our not so colored skin, not so oily hair and not so funny name!
Although ignorance is bliss, someday may all these misconceptions be dispelled….
May you appreciate the idli, appam, bisi belle bath and andhra meals as much as you relish your chaat and roti,
May you appreciate the safety of our territory and the hospitality of our people,
May you realize that we are more literate yet less arrogant,
All the world needs is more mutual respect!
Ironically, there never was a united India until Britain made it so. We were a nation of warring states held together by the British Raj and today they left behind a language that in some sense unites us as a nation
A funny thought occurred to me though….what if Hitler had conquered Britain in 1940?? :)

Mama,I'm coming home...

I don’t like the cold.
Winter makes me sluggish and often keeps me under the weather.
It’s normally that time of the year when I take my annual leave and head to the unknown. However, this year I made the mistake of making plans with some unreliable friends and ended up at my parent’s home.
My folks couldn’t have been happier, while I discovered and practiced hibernation to some extent.
I hadn’t stayed at home for more than a couple of days after the time I left home for College.
Coonoor has changed a little, or maybe I have. The extended stay at home revived a lot of old memories.
Like your average kid, I daydreamed in class, read every possible piece of literature apart from my school curriculum while I was pretending to be studying, imagined I’d die for my friends, talked endlessly on the phone and believed my parents had no clue what was best for me.
As cliché as it may sound, over the years I’ve sheepishly realized that I was clearly wrong every single time.
On hindsight I had absolutely no idea what I wanted to do for most part of my life, but today my problem is that I always know what I want, always.
My brother says that I plan and execute my life meticulously. When he first passed that judgment it really got to me and then I realized that he was right in some sense. I had made up for the lack of focus from my younger days yet stuck to my reputation of radical extremes.
Funnily, when I was younger the only thing I thought I knew was of my conjugal future.
Stereotypical scheme of things….I’d marry a Thomas or Chacko, or a more obnoxious mallu Christian name and name my sons…John, Paul, George and Ringo after the Beatles. Turns out I have changed so much!
All my life I left I never really had a choice.
My dad made most of my decisions and my mom stood by him.
I had the longest hair in comparison to all the boy in the neighborhood and that’s as good as it got, while the girls I knew ran around looking pretty with long locks of hair.
I was forced to play cricket and was never bought a Barbie doll.
I had no choice but to learn to play the guitar over my personal preference towards the piano.
I had to take science group after the 10th grade over my choice to pursue the commerce stream.
Today, the same parents have let me independently take the biggest decisions of my life and my stood by me whatever my decision maybe.
This trip made me realize that living with the parents wasn’t as suffocating as I had anticipated it to be.
I had a laidback holiday, indulging in absolute gluttony and eating every meal like it were my last, exerting myself with postprandial exercises such a channel surfing, text messaging and rummaging through the fridge for in-between meal munchies. I felt like Garfield, the only thing active about me was my imagination. A stark contrast from the routine hectic holiday schedules I set out on year after year.
I enjoyed watching movies and debating with my dad late into the night.
Evening walks and sporadic grocery shopping trips with my mom.
I spent hours poring over old photo albums and rearranging them, listening to some good old music that I grew up with….the salubrious mountain air, the traffic free roads, the spectacular sylvan surroundings-I realized how much I had taken these things for granted all these years.
I felt like a baby and definitely slept like one…i lose track of pretty much everything…until I realized it was time to pack my bags
I felt like a child returning to school after a long summer break. This trip had brought me so close to my parents that I didn’t mind living at home for the rest of my life.
As that realization dawned on me I was shocked at how differently I would have left about this a few months back.
It was finally time for me to leave, I pulled my nebbish self together and tugged at my luggage unwillingly.
My dad called out from the main gate, we were running late.
The drive to Ooty was a blur and I before I knew it I was sitting on a bus to Bangalore after kissing my parents goodbye.
The lights were dimmed and I turned up the volume on my iPod. Coincidentally, the track that was playing was mama, I’m coming home.
Tears streamed down my cheeks and I realized this was the first time in twenty five years that I had cried while leaving home.
Home is truly where the heart is…