Sometimes you reach a point where you just want to throw everything and go back. Back to who you were, where you belonged to.
It doesn't help that you are in the middle of a recession and so lose everything that you think you had. And when you have a back sprain putting a spanner in your latest plans to change for the better, it gets worse.
Then you go mad and scream and blog. And just hate yourself and the rest of the world.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Saturday, March 14, 2009
More Idlis?
Ananthu shuffled into the dining room where everyone had assembled for dinner. His wife was inside, lying on the bed. She'd eat on the bed. Like she had for the last 2 months. One of the girls fed her everyday. In fact, everyone seemed to be only too happy to take care of her. She was, after all, their aunt. And the girls had inherited their father's famous streak for unconditional generosity and responsibility. Amazing how the mother didn't grumble too. Like most women in her position possibly would.
He was the first one from his village to go on to study at the college in erstwhile Madras. He'd finished his Doctorate studies and landed himself a plum job with the Central Government. His good fortune didn't end there. He was immensely lucky to have married Annapoorna, a nubile young girl full of dreams and a rebellious streak that he so loved to control. It turned him on. To see her rebel and then whimper back to reality. They were on a vacation. Visiting all the temples in South India on a pilgrimage. He'd promised his mother this trip ever since he got the job as a Senior Scientist with the Government. Now, here they were at 7 A.M. nearing Trichy.There was a bustle around a small road-side tea shop and the bus driver decided to stop there for a quick breakfast.
Ananthu rued the day he'd boastfully offered to take his young brother-in-law, all of 7 years old on this trip. Of course, the boy had been of immense help. He'd carried the bags around, watched bags all night in the bus lest someone steal it. But then, the boy was a real pest. Very independent, shrewd and too smart for his own good, he decided. Now, he wanted more Idlis. How much does the boy eat anyway? He'd already finished 2 big Idlis that costed 25 paisa. More, he asks! Ananthu refused and walked back into the bus.
He sat down opposite Babu. The girls sat on the rest of the chairs around their father. Ananthu always had a bad feeling about Babu. Even at 50, Babu behaved and worked like he was 30 and had a whole lifetime to do anything and everything he wanted. He was extremely ambitious in everything he worked at. He'd made sure to find a wife who supported him in his ambitions and laugh away all the loans and all the risks. Strangely enough, the girls were the same. Classic businessmen's daughters. He never allowed them to have it easy. He made his girls work hard and learn things the hard way, Ananthu observed. Just like he had. All his life. Babu was known to be a slogger. Someone who didn't take too kindly to lethargy or indecision. Ananthu still remembered the way he'd taken control of the situation on the day his wife was diagnosed with cancer of the urinary tract. Babu announced that he'd take his sister home and take care of her himself. Like he didn't trust her with Ananthu. No one said anything. Even his daughter who was studying for her Board exams. Ananthu was just hoping he could accompany his wife too. He certainly couldn't cook to save his life and didn't want to spend money on eating out for a long time. Considering Poorni had cancer, he wasn't sure of the next events in his life.
The boy stared back at Ananthu and looked beseechingly at his sister, though he knew it was of not much use. His sister did everything that her husband wanted. For all her rebelliousness, she was totally a doormat to her parsimonious arrogant husband. He knew in his young heart then and there that his parents had made a mistake with this one. He asked her this time. "Poorni, tell Athimbair to buy me one more Idli no? Please." She shrugged. "Ivaniku unnu oru Idli venumaame?" After being the recipient of a glare, she told the young boy to go and check if the bags were still on the top of the bus. Annapoorna was tired of the travelling. All the more because of her mother-in-law. All she needed was that brat of a brother of hers to irritate her.
Geeta served Idlis. The girls groaned. Seemed like they all hated Idlis. He noticed that breakfast was usually Dosas or Poori or even Chapati. The girls ate out quite often too. Something he'd ever allowed his girls to do. The girls brought something back for him and his wife too, always. He'd eaten some Pani Puri that evening. After moving to Babu's house 3 months ago, he'd even eaten that expensive international Dosa - pizza. He himself may never have spent Rs 250 on that, but then the girls had ordered some and offered him some. He certainly would never say no to food. Babu didn't like pizza, it seemed. Ananthu thought he saw Babu and Geeta noticing him when he bit into that pizza, but didn't think much of it. He knew that Babu didn't like him too much. He always felt Babu's mocking gaze every once in a while. When he organized his daughter's wedding or when he sent Poorni with a one way bus fare to help her mother when Geeta had gone to her mother's house for her delivery. Babu had sent his sister back with the next visit's bus fare.
Babu wasn't any longer at the table. Geeta kept up the conversation as always: "Avarikku Idli na aagadu. Pasee thaangale na daan saapduvaru. Neenga unnu onnu edthu kongo. Ungalku Idli daan romba pudikyun ille?"
P.S. - This is the first story that I've written in my life. All kinds of feedback welcome. Non Tamil speakers, I'm terribly sorry. Thanks a ton.
He was the first one from his village to go on to study at the college in erstwhile Madras. He'd finished his Doctorate studies and landed himself a plum job with the Central Government. His good fortune didn't end there. He was immensely lucky to have married Annapoorna, a nubile young girl full of dreams and a rebellious streak that he so loved to control. It turned him on. To see her rebel and then whimper back to reality. They were on a vacation. Visiting all the temples in South India on a pilgrimage. He'd promised his mother this trip ever since he got the job as a Senior Scientist with the Government. Now, here they were at 7 A.M. nearing Trichy.There was a bustle around a small road-side tea shop and the bus driver decided to stop there for a quick breakfast.
Ananthu rued the day he'd boastfully offered to take his young brother-in-law, all of 7 years old on this trip. Of course, the boy had been of immense help. He'd carried the bags around, watched bags all night in the bus lest someone steal it. But then, the boy was a real pest. Very independent, shrewd and too smart for his own good, he decided. Now, he wanted more Idlis. How much does the boy eat anyway? He'd already finished 2 big Idlis that costed 25 paisa. More, he asks! Ananthu refused and walked back into the bus.
He sat down opposite Babu. The girls sat on the rest of the chairs around their father. Ananthu always had a bad feeling about Babu. Even at 50, Babu behaved and worked like he was 30 and had a whole lifetime to do anything and everything he wanted. He was extremely ambitious in everything he worked at. He'd made sure to find a wife who supported him in his ambitions and laugh away all the loans and all the risks. Strangely enough, the girls were the same. Classic businessmen's daughters. He never allowed them to have it easy. He made his girls work hard and learn things the hard way, Ananthu observed. Just like he had. All his life. Babu was known to be a slogger. Someone who didn't take too kindly to lethargy or indecision. Ananthu still remembered the way he'd taken control of the situation on the day his wife was diagnosed with cancer of the urinary tract. Babu announced that he'd take his sister home and take care of her himself. Like he didn't trust her with Ananthu. No one said anything. Even his daughter who was studying for her Board exams. Ananthu was just hoping he could accompany his wife too. He certainly couldn't cook to save his life and didn't want to spend money on eating out for a long time. Considering Poorni had cancer, he wasn't sure of the next events in his life.
The boy stared back at Ananthu and looked beseechingly at his sister, though he knew it was of not much use. His sister did everything that her husband wanted. For all her rebelliousness, she was totally a doormat to her parsimonious arrogant husband. He knew in his young heart then and there that his parents had made a mistake with this one. He asked her this time. "Poorni, tell Athimbair to buy me one more Idli no? Please." She shrugged. "Ivaniku unnu oru Idli venumaame?" After being the recipient of a glare, she told the young boy to go and check if the bags were still on the top of the bus. Annapoorna was tired of the travelling. All the more because of her mother-in-law. All she needed was that brat of a brother of hers to irritate her.
Geeta served Idlis. The girls groaned. Seemed like they all hated Idlis. He noticed that breakfast was usually Dosas or Poori or even Chapati. The girls ate out quite often too. Something he'd ever allowed his girls to do. The girls brought something back for him and his wife too, always. He'd eaten some Pani Puri that evening. After moving to Babu's house 3 months ago, he'd even eaten that expensive international Dosa - pizza. He himself may never have spent Rs 250 on that, but then the girls had ordered some and offered him some. He certainly would never say no to food. Babu didn't like pizza, it seemed. Ananthu thought he saw Babu and Geeta noticing him when he bit into that pizza, but didn't think much of it. He knew that Babu didn't like him too much. He always felt Babu's mocking gaze every once in a while. When he organized his daughter's wedding or when he sent Poorni with a one way bus fare to help her mother when Geeta had gone to her mother's house for her delivery. Babu had sent his sister back with the next visit's bus fare.
Babu wasn't any longer at the table. Geeta kept up the conversation as always: "Avarikku Idli na aagadu. Pasee thaangale na daan saapduvaru. Neenga unnu onnu edthu kongo. Ungalku Idli daan romba pudikyun ille?"
P.S. - This is the first story that I've written in my life. All kinds of feedback welcome. Non Tamil speakers, I'm terribly sorry. Thanks a ton.
Friday, March 13, 2009
The biker girls!
Early in our lives, my sisters and I were warned that going on bikes with boys/men was not the thing done by girls like us. 'We are not like that' - my mom used to say and still says for everything. It is her 'because I said so' statement. The three of us were fairly independent with our own modes of transport when we needed to go out. Once in a while, there were times when in the interest of our environment, the group of friends I'd hang out with would consider vehicle-pooling. Strictly frowned upon by girls' parents because the vehicles chosen for the ride would invariably be bikes which only boys rode that time. *hmph* (I did learn to ride a bike later on in my life much to my mom's horror) So, while I never needed to go on a bike ride with any of the guys I knew, this was a constant source of argument with my mom. When I was in Class 12, and had to run for tuitions and that is when most kids in Bangalore got their first bikes/scootys etc, my parents insisted I learn things the hard way and made me cycle all over the city running for coaching classes. Until I did so badly in Math that I attributed it to the time spent cycling all over the city. Finally, my dad gave me his trusty blue Kinetic Honda. Soon, I was to be known as the Kinetic girl. I was everywhere with my Kinetic. It carried everything from people to dogs to huge cutouts for plays. It also carried varied carpenters and painters from the college auditorium to the nearest bus stand. Of course, my parents didn't appreciate it too much. My grandmother felt I was 'mingling' with men I should not 'mingle' with if at all 'mingling' was the issue.
I'd ferry my mom on her innumerable shopping trips. Trust me, they were innumerable. One such trip, we were cruising along with my mom doing what she does best: backseat driving. She believed in shoulder squeeze backseat driving. The moment she senses danger which is always, she'd squeeze my shoulder hard. One such time, she wanted to point out to me a girl we knew going on a bike with some guy. My mom squeezed my shoulders. I slowed down thinking of the obvious. However, this time, she whispered in my ear that X was going on this bike with this boy she didn't know. So, the argument ensued. About how girls and boys are so physically close on a bike that 'anything' could happen. And that in our 'youth,' we dunno what we want and we end up losing 'control.' And with pride, she said to me (warning me, actually!) about how her daughters, she knew, would never do such a thing. About how her daughters were fine women who were independent and would never seek out a ride on a bike with random men.
Finally, as I was driving, I mentioned to her about how my best friend V and I were always roaming around together on my Kinetic or her Scooty. I could sense her nodding vigorously and proudly (everyone in my family loved V. She was an antithesis of me). I continued talking. Suddenly, it all stopped. She suddenly withdrew her appreciative hand from my sore shoulders. She grew quiet. She stopped nodding. When we got home, she didn't stop to comment on how I got off the Kinetic like a boy, and how I walked back into the house like a victorious racer.
And all I said was : What if V and I were 'going around', then would she approve of us, two girls on the Kinetic hanging around?
P.S. - Why don't parents understand that a lot more can happen in a car than on a bike? My mom always insisted that my male friends drop me in the car and not the bike. Ugh! However, when I was talking about this to a male friend of mine, he grinned and confirmed a bike was worse. I haven't understood how, still!
I'd ferry my mom on her innumerable shopping trips. Trust me, they were innumerable. One such trip, we were cruising along with my mom doing what she does best: backseat driving. She believed in shoulder squeeze backseat driving. The moment she senses danger which is always, she'd squeeze my shoulder hard. One such time, she wanted to point out to me a girl we knew going on a bike with some guy. My mom squeezed my shoulders. I slowed down thinking of the obvious. However, this time, she whispered in my ear that X was going on this bike with this boy she didn't know. So, the argument ensued. About how girls and boys are so physically close on a bike that 'anything' could happen. And that in our 'youth,' we dunno what we want and we end up losing 'control.' And with pride, she said to me (warning me, actually!) about how her daughters, she knew, would never do such a thing. About how her daughters were fine women who were independent and would never seek out a ride on a bike with random men.
Finally, as I was driving, I mentioned to her about how my best friend V and I were always roaming around together on my Kinetic or her Scooty. I could sense her nodding vigorously and proudly (everyone in my family loved V. She was an antithesis of me). I continued talking. Suddenly, it all stopped. She suddenly withdrew her appreciative hand from my sore shoulders. She grew quiet. She stopped nodding. When we got home, she didn't stop to comment on how I got off the Kinetic like a boy, and how I walked back into the house like a victorious racer.
And all I said was : What if V and I were 'going around', then would she approve of us, two girls on the Kinetic hanging around?
P.S. - Why don't parents understand that a lot more can happen in a car than on a bike? My mom always insisted that my male friends drop me in the car and not the bike. Ugh! However, when I was talking about this to a male friend of mine, he grinned and confirmed a bike was worse. I haven't understood how, still!
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Oh Baabbby!
I was chatting with a friend updating him with my latest knowledge about US politics. I have some grad students who are forced to listen to me, unlike my husband who walks away nowadays, and its not even a year, dammit!
This is what we were talking about. Ya, the same Baaabbby guy. See, I know I'm a huge fan of Obama. And I do not deny it. But then he is good, admit it. The charisma is outstanding, and his oratory skills are beyond compare. I just do not understand how it was good politics to send in our very own Baabbby to respond to Obama. One, Baabbby belongs to a party that literally ruined the economy, two, he is SUCH a bad orator! And he is from Louisiana, a prominently Republican state which was neglected during the Hurricane Katrina so bad that it should not even be spoken about in the annals of Republican history. Yes, I'm not a Republican supporter and yes, I'm not all that informed about it. But then this post is not about making informed, intellectual, pseudo American remarks about MY views on American politics. Frankly, I'm interested only because I'm without a job and I did not even come here with the American dream or anything. My problem with this is just that his speech was outrageously stupid, condescending and frankly, put my country in bad light. Call me sensitive, tell me I'm making a big issue of nothing. I do not care.
The truth is that I will not stand for my country to be portrayed as a poor country ALL the f***ing time. We deserve better than this. Yes, I agree we have poverty, but then, hey, why doesn't anyone want to talk about skinheads, or poverty in the US, and now the latest, poverty thanks to stupidity, or just because you elected an African-American President doesn't mean you are all talking about race openly. Dammit, at least we are not hypocritical about caste issues in my country! Please know I'm not defending caste riots or even casteism for that matter. Its so much simpler to address it directly than assuming that atrocities against minorities don't happen!
Baabbby ends every paragraph in his speech with : We ARE Americans, and Americans can do anything. I can imitate him now. Fairly well. I'm unable to produce what I think is pseudo Southern twang in my voice though. Yes, Americans can do anything. I do not have an issue with this statement, really. Every country says it, I think. But then, I have an issue when Baabbby talks of being a son of immigrants ala the latest immigrant, Obama and talks of his dad taking him to the grocery store where very obviously there were SO MANY things and his dad told him: Baabbby, Americans can do anything. Now, if this is the life lesson he remembers receiving from his parents, then, I do not know what to say.
He talks in the same vein and he goes on to say that his dad had seen extreme poverty in India. His words NOT quote unquote: Coming from India, he'd seen extreme poverty. WTF! I'm sorry. What he doesn't realize he mentioned earlier in the speech was that his family was poor even in America for a long time. So, why say poverty and India? We do have other stuff to show, you know? I'm quite tired of being associated with poverty. To be very arrogant, I, as an individual was quite well-off. And I'm educated. I'm fairly independent. Or should I say, was? We do have poverty, we do have a lot of things we aren't proud of. But then, that is not the only thing we are about. That is my complaint about SDM as well. I'm not saying, don't show reality, but then there are other realities that we seem to miss. Consistently.
Coming back to Baabby, he also spoke of Hurricane Katrina and how Government wasn't much of a help then and that we as Americans should not depend on the Government, because again, remember, we can do anything? Seriously, does he realize which Government was ruling then? And how much of Govt. help we do need now? After taking HIS Govt's help for all these years?
As an uninformed immigrant who was rich in a poor country but who is soon going to be poor in a rich country, I know that this was a bad example. What kind of a politician or a leader is he?
And of course, everyone criticized him for being condescending, and so I do not want to go in there. I felt foolish listening to him. Strangely enough, I felt that, he or the Republicans he was representing, were throwing the crisis back to the people and saying: you can do anything, we can't. So, its your responsibility. Contrast this with : Yes, we can. It is the same message, but such a huge difference. There's a message about unity, doing things together, a spirit that Baabbby lacked inspite of remaining true to Sr.Jindal's advice. I still get goosebumps when I hear: Yes, we can.
Yes, Baabbby, Americans can do anything. And I believe if you lead us, Americans HAVE to do anything and everything.
I thought I should have some fun and record my imitation of his "Baabbby, Americans can do anything." But then, my mic on the computer is not working and I couldn't do it!
This is what we were talking about. Ya, the same Baaabbby guy. See, I know I'm a huge fan of Obama. And I do not deny it. But then he is good, admit it. The charisma is outstanding, and his oratory skills are beyond compare. I just do not understand how it was good politics to send in our very own Baabbby to respond to Obama. One, Baabbby belongs to a party that literally ruined the economy, two, he is SUCH a bad orator! And he is from Louisiana, a prominently Republican state which was neglected during the Hurricane Katrina so bad that it should not even be spoken about in the annals of Republican history. Yes, I'm not a Republican supporter and yes, I'm not all that informed about it. But then this post is not about making informed, intellectual, pseudo American remarks about MY views on American politics. Frankly, I'm interested only because I'm without a job and I did not even come here with the American dream or anything. My problem with this is just that his speech was outrageously stupid, condescending and frankly, put my country in bad light. Call me sensitive, tell me I'm making a big issue of nothing. I do not care.
The truth is that I will not stand for my country to be portrayed as a poor country ALL the f***ing time. We deserve better than this. Yes, I agree we have poverty, but then, hey, why doesn't anyone want to talk about skinheads, or poverty in the US, and now the latest, poverty thanks to stupidity, or just because you elected an African-American President doesn't mean you are all talking about race openly. Dammit, at least we are not hypocritical about caste issues in my country! Please know I'm not defending caste riots or even casteism for that matter. Its so much simpler to address it directly than assuming that atrocities against minorities don't happen!
Baabbby ends every paragraph in his speech with : We ARE Americans, and Americans can do anything. I can imitate him now. Fairly well. I'm unable to produce what I think is pseudo Southern twang in my voice though. Yes, Americans can do anything. I do not have an issue with this statement, really. Every country says it, I think. But then, I have an issue when Baabbby talks of being a son of immigrants ala the latest immigrant, Obama and talks of his dad taking him to the grocery store where very obviously there were SO MANY things and his dad told him: Baabbby, Americans can do anything. Now, if this is the life lesson he remembers receiving from his parents, then, I do not know what to say.
He talks in the same vein and he goes on to say that his dad had seen extreme poverty in India. His words NOT quote unquote: Coming from India, he'd seen extreme poverty. WTF! I'm sorry. What he doesn't realize he mentioned earlier in the speech was that his family was poor even in America for a long time. So, why say poverty and India? We do have other stuff to show, you know? I'm quite tired of being associated with poverty. To be very arrogant, I, as an individual was quite well-off. And I'm educated. I'm fairly independent. Or should I say, was? We do have poverty, we do have a lot of things we aren't proud of. But then, that is not the only thing we are about. That is my complaint about SDM as well. I'm not saying, don't show reality, but then there are other realities that we seem to miss. Consistently.
Coming back to Baabby, he also spoke of Hurricane Katrina and how Government wasn't much of a help then and that we as Americans should not depend on the Government, because again, remember, we can do anything? Seriously, does he realize which Government was ruling then? And how much of Govt. help we do need now? After taking HIS Govt's help for all these years?
As an uninformed immigrant who was rich in a poor country but who is soon going to be poor in a rich country, I know that this was a bad example. What kind of a politician or a leader is he?
And of course, everyone criticized him for being condescending, and so I do not want to go in there. I felt foolish listening to him. Strangely enough, I felt that, he or the Republicans he was representing, were throwing the crisis back to the people and saying: you can do anything, we can't. So, its your responsibility. Contrast this with : Yes, we can. It is the same message, but such a huge difference. There's a message about unity, doing things together, a spirit that Baabbby lacked inspite of remaining true to Sr.Jindal's advice. I still get goosebumps when I hear: Yes, we can.
Yes, Baabbby, Americans can do anything. And I believe if you lead us, Americans HAVE to do anything and everything.
I thought I should have some fun and record my imitation of his "Baabbby, Americans can do anything." But then, my mic on the computer is not working and I couldn't do it!
Friday, February 20, 2009
Peek-a-boo!
I'm back just to peek. For all of you who left all those nice comments asking me to come back :P thank you. The break has survived its purpose. I'm no longer as mad, and as confused. I know what I'm going to study, how I'm going to study and all those useless things have been decided. I've also rescheduled my GRE for all my well-wishers. So, to celebrate, I'm blogging and doing some other stuff that you guys may or may not be informed about soon. Yay! Ok, so I actually read someone's 25 random things on FB, and remembered something similar I'd done.
So, I was all of 4 or 5 years old and we lived in our old house. I hardly had any playmates, so to speak unless you want to talk of my Dad's unemployed friends who kept me company much to my mom's angst. I did have a younger sister by then, but we did not get along too well. We fought. Always. And hey, she was young and irritating while I was a mature 4 year old! So, there were these two girls S and R who I played with. R was my age, more or less and she was from this small town called Arsikere in Karnataka - those days my dream destination for a holiday that we never went on. I made friends with R after this incident happened between S and me. Anyway, S was the daughter of a tenant who stayed upstairs. She was much older than the both of us. She was over 11 or 12 years old. We went to the same school and she'd walk back from school everyday with me.
My granny like all grannies had grudges with all her tenants irrespective of how nice they were and all people who she didn't know. I dunno her opinion about R, but then she was sceptical about S and her family. My mom was only too glad to let me play with S who I played house-house for a long time. I had this mini cooking set with some utensils and all that jazz. My mom tried her best to domesticate me from a young age. So, S and I were playing one day and it was mid afternoon - 3-4 ish. We were cooking rice for the both of us and we were talking like 2 older women - something we always wanted be then (Then is the keyword here) We'd poured water into the utensil which could hold about 3 tbsp of rice and let it alone for sometime - cooking or rather, resting on the mini gas we had. After about 2 hours of playing, I told her we should sit and eat rice. Now, obviously the rice was uncooked, but had grown soft. I got extremely excited that we cooked food which even my mom couldn't! (My mom never cooked thanks to my granny's restrictions, and I thought she couldn't cook then) I wanted to eat the rice that we cooked really badly. She refused. She said no. Could you believe that? A 11 year old girl cooks her own rice along with a more talented 4 year old and she doesn't want to eat it!
I couldn't believe my ears. I said to her again: S, we should eat it. Get the plates. She refused. I got into a rage. I wasn't used to being refused. No, I wasn't spoilt. But eating rice was normal and I'm sure my excited parents would've lapped up the rice if I cook for them. So, I pleaded with her this time. I said: "S, please, can we eat the rice together? I'd hate to eat it all alone. I hate doing that."
She said no again. I got mad. I screamed at her. I said: " We have to eat it. I cannot waste this. If you don't eat it, I will beat you up." (Beating up is a threat I have followed on with several people!)
She refused calmly wondering how much could a 4 year old do, anyway? She was much taller than me and I came up to her waist only then. She could easily flip me! I got so mad that....
...I bit her. I lifted her skirt and bit her stomach. So hard that she bled in front of me. She screamed in agony while I stared at her in triumph like a wronged heroine or something. Everyone came running and of course, my mom was shocked at her daughter's violent tendencies. She realized later that it was to be the norm. Her parents couldn't believe it. They were mad at me and prohibited me from playing with S after this. I was only too happy and egoistic to oblige. My mom said sorry a 100 times and took her to the doctor and what not. After that, I did not play with her, and she refused to walk me back from school. My dad decided that I will walk back alone, much to my granny's fears that someone would kidnap her pretty, innocent, light-brown eyed baby. Sigh, such love, I've not known again.
But then I had to find another playmate now that S wouldn't even look at me. I used to love to swing on the huge gate we had. One such swinging, I saw this girl skip on the road. Yes, she skipped. Using a skipping rope. She had short curly hair and was tiny. I just stared at her skip in the middle of the road and could see no one else or nothing else. I was amazed that someone could skip so well. I'd just started to learn to do that. And she wasn't even doing the jumping kind of skipping. I was enamored and totally stared at her as she passed by. After that, for quite sometime, I'd see her skip from one end of the road to another. Until one day, my mom saw her and pushed me to go talk to her and call her home. I stopped her midway and she seemed scared until my mom asked her, her name and other things and called her home. Soon, my mom and her mom spoke and we were a pair :) She spoke of the rice fields in Arsikere and I created stories about Kansbahal, the place I was born and hardly remember! She taught me how to skip and spent hours cooking and playing house-house with me. I cried everytime she went to Arsikere on a holiday. I stood at the gate and bade good-bye everytime she and her parents got onto the auto to go to the station. We made grand plans for our lives which mainly included skipping, playing the doctor game and the house-house game. She was my first best friend. I no longer know where she is or how she is. But, sometimes, I miss her :)
So, I was all of 4 or 5 years old and we lived in our old house. I hardly had any playmates, so to speak unless you want to talk of my Dad's unemployed friends who kept me company much to my mom's angst. I did have a younger sister by then, but we did not get along too well. We fought. Always. And hey, she was young and irritating while I was a mature 4 year old! So, there were these two girls S and R who I played with. R was my age, more or less and she was from this small town called Arsikere in Karnataka - those days my dream destination for a holiday that we never went on. I made friends with R after this incident happened between S and me. Anyway, S was the daughter of a tenant who stayed upstairs. She was much older than the both of us. She was over 11 or 12 years old. We went to the same school and she'd walk back from school everyday with me.
My granny like all grannies had grudges with all her tenants irrespective of how nice they were and all people who she didn't know. I dunno her opinion about R, but then she was sceptical about S and her family. My mom was only too glad to let me play with S who I played house-house for a long time. I had this mini cooking set with some utensils and all that jazz. My mom tried her best to domesticate me from a young age. So, S and I were playing one day and it was mid afternoon - 3-4 ish. We were cooking rice for the both of us and we were talking like 2 older women - something we always wanted be then (Then is the keyword here) We'd poured water into the utensil which could hold about 3 tbsp of rice and let it alone for sometime - cooking or rather, resting on the mini gas we had. After about 2 hours of playing, I told her we should sit and eat rice. Now, obviously the rice was uncooked, but had grown soft. I got extremely excited that we cooked food which even my mom couldn't! (My mom never cooked thanks to my granny's restrictions, and I thought she couldn't cook then) I wanted to eat the rice that we cooked really badly. She refused. She said no. Could you believe that? A 11 year old girl cooks her own rice along with a more talented 4 year old and she doesn't want to eat it!
I couldn't believe my ears. I said to her again: S, we should eat it. Get the plates. She refused. I got into a rage. I wasn't used to being refused. No, I wasn't spoilt. But eating rice was normal and I'm sure my excited parents would've lapped up the rice if I cook for them. So, I pleaded with her this time. I said: "S, please, can we eat the rice together? I'd hate to eat it all alone. I hate doing that."
She said no again. I got mad. I screamed at her. I said: " We have to eat it. I cannot waste this. If you don't eat it, I will beat you up." (Beating up is a threat I have followed on with several people!)
She refused calmly wondering how much could a 4 year old do, anyway? She was much taller than me and I came up to her waist only then. She could easily flip me! I got so mad that....
...I bit her. I lifted her skirt and bit her stomach. So hard that she bled in front of me. She screamed in agony while I stared at her in triumph like a wronged heroine or something. Everyone came running and of course, my mom was shocked at her daughter's violent tendencies. She realized later that it was to be the norm. Her parents couldn't believe it. They were mad at me and prohibited me from playing with S after this. I was only too happy and egoistic to oblige. My mom said sorry a 100 times and took her to the doctor and what not. After that, I did not play with her, and she refused to walk me back from school. My dad decided that I will walk back alone, much to my granny's fears that someone would kidnap her pretty, innocent, light-brown eyed baby. Sigh, such love, I've not known again.
But then I had to find another playmate now that S wouldn't even look at me. I used to love to swing on the huge gate we had. One such swinging, I saw this girl skip on the road. Yes, she skipped. Using a skipping rope. She had short curly hair and was tiny. I just stared at her skip in the middle of the road and could see no one else or nothing else. I was amazed that someone could skip so well. I'd just started to learn to do that. And she wasn't even doing the jumping kind of skipping. I was enamored and totally stared at her as she passed by. After that, for quite sometime, I'd see her skip from one end of the road to another. Until one day, my mom saw her and pushed me to go talk to her and call her home. I stopped her midway and she seemed scared until my mom asked her, her name and other things and called her home. Soon, my mom and her mom spoke and we were a pair :) She spoke of the rice fields in Arsikere and I created stories about Kansbahal, the place I was born and hardly remember! She taught me how to skip and spent hours cooking and playing house-house with me. I cried everytime she went to Arsikere on a holiday. I stood at the gate and bade good-bye everytime she and her parents got onto the auto to go to the station. We made grand plans for our lives which mainly included skipping, playing the doctor game and the house-house game. She was my first best friend. I no longer know where she is or how she is. But, sometimes, I miss her :)
Monday, January 26, 2009
Break ke baad.
I'm taking a break. I thought of shutting this blog down. But then I thought of the 100s of things I've done over the years without thinking and figured that this'd just join the list if I shut this down. I love this and what this blog has given me: Friends. However, am at a point in my life where I'm going mad and need to figure things out myself. So there.
I'm still available for pings to share :P gossip and news. Meet you at your blogs!
I'm still available for pings to share :P gossip and news. Meet you at your blogs!
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Pongal and all that jazz!
So, I've never felt elated about celebrating Pongal except for the food and when I was in Class 2 when we learned about different festivals of India and all that. I'm not even sure if we pray to any God for this particular festival. However, Pongal holds some great childhood memories. Especially one. For us, it was a very Kannada Pongal. We never said Pongal O Pongal to random people. Pongal was food for us, more than the name of the festival. We did not go ballistic about SUN TV Pongal shows until we were 16 and were curious to check out Rajnikanth movies to impress our Madras cousins. However, we did eat some great Pongal at home :D For us, it was Sankranthi.
It meant a holiday, and it meant dressing up and going to every second person's house in the neighbourhood (Reason why one cannot be elated if you are a girl) In fact, the custom in Karnataka is too 'ellu beerufy.' Though the name sounds very alcoholic, alcohol, like most Hindu festivals does not have anything to do with Pongal or Sankranthi. Our mothers and grannies made 'Ellu' - a delicious mixture of sesame seeds, loads of peanuts, small bite-sized pieces of coconut, jaggery and some colourful stuff and Sakkare Acchu (sugar moulds). This was the time when all the women in the neighbourhood'd strive to show how organized they were in the following things:
1. The number of houses that they 'ellu beerufied.' The more you 'ellu beerufy,' the more generous you 'seem.' When, in fact, you are only recycling all the 'ellu' you get :P More importantly, you can take your daughter to more houses and boast about her musical abilities, even if they are non existant.
2. Dressing up. Women dressed up and got their kids dressed up. Husbands dressed up coz women come home to spread the joy..err..'ellu.'
3. Collecting 'ellu' from different houses and commenting on whether it was home-made or bought from stores was fodder until the next year.
4. Creativity was big. Everyone aimed to find that perfect cute little box to give 'ellu' in. Some people went ahead and created a basket with - small cute box, fruit, sugar cane, some small gift, sweet etc. Usually, being South Indians, the basket is not important :P. What is in it is most important, coz basket is for show. However, as I grew up, I saw competition increase to make this as showy as possible. My mom, of course, recycled the 'ellu' - cuter boxes to aunties she liked or needed a favour from. Ugly boxes to people she hated or the Mrs. Jones we always seemed to have. And ya, none of it was the 'ellu' prepared at home. Everything was recycled, coz my granny wouldn't eat anyone else's 'ellu.' (You can roll your eyes here)
5. Kids. One big reason for any spite between two perfectly gossipping-about-third-neighbour-so-getting-along neighbours. This was the time for Aunty to boast about daughter's musical abilities and coax the girls to sing anywhere and everywhere, and also about son's future plans. Didn't matter if he was in Class 5. Sons usually weren't taken on 'ellu' rounds if they were over Class 1.
I remember one such sojourn in my long life as a Tamilian in Karnataka. People get confused about how to wish you. And Karnataka people will go out of their way to wish you in Tamil and say Pongal O Pongal and laugh it away nervously. Very painful when you are a gawky teenager looking for an escape route. So, Pongal for us was dressing up and eating. My mom loved dressing us up. We were 3 of us and this gave her ample scope to use all the bindis in the world, all the jewellery, all those pawadais, and all the kucchus. I admit we were the center of attraction everywhere we went because our clothes were perfect, matched well with jewellery, shoes and what not. The whole day was spent in anticipation of whose houses we were going to visit and who was doing it big this time.
One such Pongal, I was asked to come to my aunt's house. This was another practice. If you did not have young, bored girls in your house, outsource them from someone else's house. Could be your relative or the neighbour girl. Send her with YOUR 'ellu' to house to house. It did not matter that she did not know the people you sent her to! So, this is what happened to me once. Since we are three of us, my mom, like in very medieval ages, was asked to spare one of us for my aunt who had a grown up daughter and a son ( who were too grown up and busy) to come and 'ellu beerufy.' So, off I, the eldest and the most responsible one went, all dressed up across the city to my aunt's place.
I went house to house to everyone's place near my cousin's house and received compliments from everyone. Then, there was one house, a friend of my cousin's. This is when one of the most momentous events of my life happened. They were North Indians, and certainly did not 'ellu beerufy.' However, being the social people that we are and very proud of our 'Halloween-candy' culture, I was sent to their house.
Then, it all happened. I was all of 12 and was on the threshold of finding boys cute, and well, A, the boy of the house, all of 15/16 years was the one for me. I stared at him while he lounged on the expensive showy couch. I even sang without Aunty asking me to sing unlike other houses. My only grouse being that I sang Carnatic music, while all kinds of Hindi movie numbers and dances were playing in my head. I did not touch a thing that Aunty gave to eat though I loved those teeny samosas and orange juice. I gaped and even tried to borrow a book from A. Sigh. If only. A and my cousin were rivals in school and possibly, everywhere else. My cousin hated A and felt that I was unnecessarily being friendly :(
From then on, Pongal has been special. I think of A every Pongal and think of what could've been if it wasn't for a pesky cousin and a badly sung Carnatic number. The next day after Sankranthi in Tamil households is called 'Kanu.' This is the only day, apparently, a girl prays for her mother's house. We place rice balls on Turmeric leaves along with some sugarcane, fruit and some pongal and sing a ditty for the crows inviting them to eat (am not sure any crow hearing my voice) which in gist means:
The crow and the fox are getting married.
I hope they will be okay.
I should live in harmony, just like both of them do.
(This is supposed to bring immense happiness to parents. Daughter being happy and all that! Though I think the lines are meant for both the families to be in harmony.)
I dunno which fox and which crow ever lived in harmony. But I always thought of A when I sang this. This year, it was different. I thought of my husband who woke me up at an unearthly 7 AM, and missed my mom and her pulling me out of bed at 5 AM to sing this ditty.
Ah, I was wrong. Sankranthi means much more than just eating to me. It means first exposure to neighbourhood gossip, first hand exposure to showing off and of course, the first lowe :D
It meant a holiday, and it meant dressing up and going to every second person's house in the neighbourhood (Reason why one cannot be elated if you are a girl) In fact, the custom in Karnataka is too 'ellu beerufy.' Though the name sounds very alcoholic, alcohol, like most Hindu festivals does not have anything to do with Pongal or Sankranthi. Our mothers and grannies made 'Ellu' - a delicious mixture of sesame seeds, loads of peanuts, small bite-sized pieces of coconut, jaggery and some colourful stuff and Sakkare Acchu (sugar moulds). This was the time when all the women in the neighbourhood'd strive to show how organized they were in the following things:
1. The number of houses that they 'ellu beerufied.' The more you 'ellu beerufy,' the more generous you 'seem.' When, in fact, you are only recycling all the 'ellu' you get :P More importantly, you can take your daughter to more houses and boast about her musical abilities, even if they are non existant.
2. Dressing up. Women dressed up and got their kids dressed up. Husbands dressed up coz women come home to spread the joy..err..'ellu.'
3. Collecting 'ellu' from different houses and commenting on whether it was home-made or bought from stores was fodder until the next year.
4. Creativity was big. Everyone aimed to find that perfect cute little box to give 'ellu' in. Some people went ahead and created a basket with - small cute box, fruit, sugar cane, some small gift, sweet etc. Usually, being South Indians, the basket is not important :P. What is in it is most important, coz basket is for show. However, as I grew up, I saw competition increase to make this as showy as possible. My mom, of course, recycled the 'ellu' - cuter boxes to aunties she liked or needed a favour from. Ugly boxes to people she hated or the Mrs. Jones we always seemed to have. And ya, none of it was the 'ellu' prepared at home. Everything was recycled, coz my granny wouldn't eat anyone else's 'ellu.' (You can roll your eyes here)
5. Kids. One big reason for any spite between two perfectly gossipping-about-third-neighbour-so-getting-along neighbours. This was the time for Aunty to boast about daughter's musical abilities and coax the girls to sing anywhere and everywhere, and also about son's future plans. Didn't matter if he was in Class 5. Sons usually weren't taken on 'ellu' rounds if they were over Class 1.
I remember one such sojourn in my long life as a Tamilian in Karnataka. People get confused about how to wish you. And Karnataka people will go out of their way to wish you in Tamil and say Pongal O Pongal and laugh it away nervously. Very painful when you are a gawky teenager looking for an escape route. So, Pongal for us was dressing up and eating. My mom loved dressing us up. We were 3 of us and this gave her ample scope to use all the bindis in the world, all the jewellery, all those pawadais, and all the kucchus. I admit we were the center of attraction everywhere we went because our clothes were perfect, matched well with jewellery, shoes and what not. The whole day was spent in anticipation of whose houses we were going to visit and who was doing it big this time.
One such Pongal, I was asked to come to my aunt's house. This was another practice. If you did not have young, bored girls in your house, outsource them from someone else's house. Could be your relative or the neighbour girl. Send her with YOUR 'ellu' to house to house. It did not matter that she did not know the people you sent her to! So, this is what happened to me once. Since we are three of us, my mom, like in very medieval ages, was asked to spare one of us for my aunt who had a grown up daughter and a son ( who were too grown up and busy) to come and 'ellu beerufy.' So, off I, the eldest and the most responsible one went, all dressed up across the city to my aunt's place.
I went house to house to everyone's place near my cousin's house and received compliments from everyone. Then, there was one house, a friend of my cousin's. This is when one of the most momentous events of my life happened. They were North Indians, and certainly did not 'ellu beerufy.' However, being the social people that we are and very proud of our 'Halloween-candy' culture, I was sent to their house.
Then, it all happened. I was all of 12 and was on the threshold of finding boys cute, and well, A, the boy of the house, all of 15/16 years was the one for me. I stared at him while he lounged on the expensive showy couch. I even sang without Aunty asking me to sing unlike other houses. My only grouse being that I sang Carnatic music, while all kinds of Hindi movie numbers and dances were playing in my head. I did not touch a thing that Aunty gave to eat though I loved those teeny samosas and orange juice. I gaped and even tried to borrow a book from A. Sigh. If only. A and my cousin were rivals in school and possibly, everywhere else. My cousin hated A and felt that I was unnecessarily being friendly :(
From then on, Pongal has been special. I think of A every Pongal and think of what could've been if it wasn't for a pesky cousin and a badly sung Carnatic number. The next day after Sankranthi in Tamil households is called 'Kanu.' This is the only day, apparently, a girl prays for her mother's house. We place rice balls on Turmeric leaves along with some sugarcane, fruit and some pongal and sing a ditty for the crows inviting them to eat (am not sure any crow hearing my voice) which in gist means:
The crow and the fox are getting married.
I hope they will be okay.
I should live in harmony, just like both of them do.
(This is supposed to bring immense happiness to parents. Daughter being happy and all that! Though I think the lines are meant for both the families to be in harmony.)
I dunno which fox and which crow ever lived in harmony. But I always thought of A when I sang this. This year, it was different. I thought of my husband who woke me up at an unearthly 7 AM, and missed my mom and her pulling me out of bed at 5 AM to sing this ditty.
Ah, I was wrong. Sankranthi means much more than just eating to me. It means first exposure to neighbourhood gossip, first hand exposure to showing off and of course, the first lowe :D
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