Coffee Art

Found this guy and his dog above the trash can in my office. I am such a genius that even trashing my coffee cup produces art.

The Vacuum

When you realize that you are about to leave a place, a place that has many many memories associated with it - the tree under which you waited for a friend, the coffee shop you frequent, the tiny triangle which looks splendid in fall, the window where you watched the snow fall, the lights that lit up your way on that teary eyed walk back home....
there is that sudden need and urge to memorize everything, remember the co-ordinates and appearances of memories and pack them neatly in your heart.

An urgency that makes you alive and raw in the middle of the typical corporate work day.

Random

Of late I think of Charu and thank her or rather her profuse wisdom. "You know.. you expect too much" put me on the right track, I think.

I wish I had dimples. Wish at least my kids will have.

To my grandad

Dear thatha,

It will be 8 years tomorrow since you left us. It is ironical how I feel closer to you only after you bid goodbye.

Do you remember the big old house at Periyakulam?. I do. Your room upstairs, your voice, and the pictures you took. I have vague recollections of the terrace and the backyard, like an old fading picture. Of you giving me chocolates. Of the smell of cigarettes. Of the voice. The voice that sounded like a lion's roar.

Memories like the almost-fading black and white pictures of you and Anbu thatha with your parents. Your birthday cards signed "Pappa thatha"... you always used to send us one no matter where you were. Of discovering your diary after you were gone, with everyone's birthdays noted down in that neat script of yours. Your list included everyone in the family, and the extended family. Of how I cried holding onto that diary in the dark corner of my room, realizing how much you cared, but never showed it to us. Of seeing you cuddled up before your surgery, the sudden realization dawning on me that you were scared, but chose to hide it in the resounding laughs in front of the others.

I remember your eyes when you came home from the surgery. Searching for reaction in mine. Reaction to the weight loss and the fragile frame you had become. To how the lion's roar was now a whisper. And I remember me trying to brush off any reaction, and act normal on seeing you. I could not bear to see the lion reduced to a little kid thatha.....

Your attempt to get dentures and show them off to me and athai is an oft told funny anectode in my circle. Thinking about it now, I am touched at how you wanted acceptance from us. I guess that is what I hold on to. The passion for life, the willpower, the thirst for knowledge.

It is funny how I had always thought of you as competition, fighting, clashing egos and pretty much making life hell for the both of us and for Appa. I can only imagine the pain I should have caused him when I made him choose between you and me. I am sorry Appa. You know what is funnier? Of all the people, I feel the closest to you. I turn to you in times of need. And you are always there for me. I belong to the family of someone who quit smoking and changed his habits out of sheer willpower - the thought that always tides me through pain and weakness. It hurts to know what I missed by being the haughty immature kid I was. I guess that is my cross to bear.

I want to let you know how proud I am to be your grand daughter. Its not easy being in your lineage. You set quite a high standard.

I wish I could take you around now. I know the perfect little restaurant you will enjoy, the long walks you will relish, and the books and music that you like.

I miss you.

Ms. Winky is at it again

Come rain or snow, there is no stopping the dance of the happy heart.

Old world charm

It seems that names from yore are making a come back in fashion these days... Parvati, Lalita, Padma.....

I am beginning to develop a fondness towards them, the ones with the great mythological histories. And yes, there is a strength and sexiness in the different names for Parvati, dont you think?

Lalita -- the light of Shiva's eyes
Uma/ Gauri - the golden one
Parvati - the gentle mother
Shyama - the dusky beauty

I wish I had one of those names. Maybe I'll name my kid one of those names...and have her hate me for choosing such an ancient name in the modern world.

Passion

Every once in a while comes the exhilarating moment that catches your breath and swings you on the clouds, leaving you there with that joy. Not the happy contentment, but the one that adds a spring to your steps.

I had the chance to attend a cultural fest this week. Came out feeling so glad I went :-)

From the mini-cheerleading, so-proud-i-could-cry moments during my school's performance (Go Meera!), to the the oh-so-dreaaaamy Besame mucho from Guadalupe, to the AMAZING(yes, in capitals, TomKat style), musical piece on the Mohin Khuur it was an evening to die for.

Guadalupe's voice and smile left me in tears, bringing back the years when BoyZone and Enrique Iglesias were on my list of "when I meet them, they will fall in love with me and kill their wives to marry me". The guy has a voice that reminds me of soft steps over dewey grass on an early morning. Oh! He definitely knows how to perform....and use his charms and captivate. It was refreshing to see someone who knew his lemons.

Contrast that with the gentleman from inner Mongolia who let his talent speak for him, humility personified. I was amazed at the range the violin like instrument could produce! And Mr. Bo reminded me so much of Kunnakudi Vaidyanathan, him of the 1-rupee-size kumkum mark on his forehead and the incessant energy. The way he moves to the music as if he can "feel" it within himself, and channelizing the emotion of the song from his soul! I can still remember his melancholy when announcing someone's passing away on DD through his tribute on violin, and the stark difference it had to his pongal/diwali appearances.



I am so glad I have the ability to enjoy music and dance so much!

Pleasure

Wake up on a lazy saturday morning, browse the web and work under a tree, birds keeping you company with their songs, and the faint sound of the water fountain in the background.

I am beginning to like California.

Bravery starts early

Shaken, and stirred

A loved one gets hurt. You want to gather him/her in your arms and swish him/her away to a safer place where they will be far from harm, and you'll always be with them to protect them, support them, take care of them.

One psychotic parent coming up!

Am I the only one pitying my future kids here?

Nothing rattles you more than seeing your pillar of strength wobble...

PS: Yes, I am going through a philosophy meets introspection meets I-miss-home phase, with generous garnish of paranoia :-D

Venting out

For some time now, I have been debating if we should move back to India...you know... reaching your insides for "how exactly do I feel" to reading posts about experiences of others who have moved back to taking a survey of things in India when I was there to reading Shobha Narayan's huge PDF. All done. Still confused.

Yeah.. I do know that we will eventually. Our parents. But then, I was scared about living in India and even more scared to no longer be the "special" persons we are when we visit for that one month in a year. We would be ordinary joes, know all the troubles our parents have, see the troubles in person, see random people hustle our parents in public transportations and in the heavy traffic. Here I am seething with rage at the woman who yelled at my dad when we tried to cross the road while she was driving her two wheeler. Her "Aaaaiii Aaaiii" and irritated expression made me want to slap her. How would I handle a regular dose of this?

But then, I read this. Nostalgic. I dont think I can create a memory like this for my kids if I stay here. Not with all the cousins. Not the mangoes or the bhel. Not the grandparents. Perhaps our friends can take the role of Aunts and Uncles..... but still, not the mangoes.

*sigh*

My dad fell down and cracked his knee. He makes a joke of it -- thats the person he has always been. Wrings my heart out to see him suffer but still smile to deceive us, to save us the worry. I wish I were with him.

I miss my parents.

Does it really show?

Orkut knows everything. Maybe this is the divine intervention I have been waiting for all these years. I finally know that my decision has destiny's blessings as well.

Today's fortune: You and your wife will be happy in your life together

The evolution of culture

I read a book today. Stories about a typical Indian city. One of those stories was about an Americanized Indian immigrant woman who visits her mother's city in an attempt to get to know her choice.

She stays with one of her 'relatives', and has long chats with him about the Indian culture. The reason people are the way they are, and how it started out to be. That was when it struck me -- how social practices for convenience evolved to be the Indian culture.

I began my thought thinking of how the Indian clothes were often roomy, and tastefully masked the generous lower half that most of us are bestowed with. But no, it seemed to me that the human evolution followed the cultural one. The hot climate dictates that you wear roomy clothes and cover yourself from the dust.

We seem to have started as a very environment friendly cabal, and coming a full circle now with the advent of Tree huggers. Everyday chores were aimed at giving back to the environment and taking care of those lowest in the food chain as well. Like how you eat in a banana leaf, which is then given to the family goat/cow/plant eater. You dont kill the ants that are excited to follow the smell when you eat, but create a moat around the mound of food with water so they are gently dissuaded from reaching their goal.

Its amazing we had such carefully thought practices, and yet we shun them now and choose to rot in the filthiest interpretation, choosing to ordain oneself elite or oppressed by caste. It is a futile exercise to blare our Nation's pride if we encourage closet racists.

Ms Winky's white winter

She had worked her magic on everything you could lay your eyes on. It was a sight to behold, taking all the colors you could see, tucking them carefully under a serene white blanket. Hoarding them, hiding them from everyone, only to provide a surprise unveiling later on. Nature's way of proving that Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

You would never believe the urgency of the little flakes as they hurried to touch everything. Nor would you believe the confusion in their mission when the wind playfully tossed them around. They had too little time to complete their mission. Pretty, delicate, nanhi paris scuttering around to find their wards.


Some stopped midway to adorn the branches. Beautiful Jewels they make. The trees having shed their heavy, chunky, colorful accessories so they could accept these blessings, and revel in the simple grandeur. Elegant in their purity.


They stepped out in the milky whiteness to breathe in the pretty sight. She wanted to dance. Make a bubble of all her worries and blow them in a swirling tango. Perhaps a later day, she thought. When his knee doesnt hurt as much from the cold. He looked at her face, the serenity and content mirroring Nature's spread. He knew if it hadnt been for him, she would have broken into a mirthful foot-tapping number. He took her arm and swung her around, gingerly pacing his steps to avoid the pain.


They glided around the snow in abandon, enjoying the moment, the company. He could see the surprised joy in her eyes, the long forgotten expression he once saw on the day he proposed. Within a few minutes, he lost his foothold, stepped on her feet, and she fell down.


He panicked... he couldnt see her. He called out for her, groping in the snow. She got up, laughing, shaking the snow off her wet clothes. Lets go home, she said. We have had enough fun for today.

And so, Ms. Winky went home with her Prince, falling in love with him all over again.

What color is your brain

Here is a quick and dirty way of increasing the number of posts without actually talking much.

Your Brain is Orange

Of all the brain types, yours is the quickest. You are usually thinking a mile a minute, and you could be thinking about anything at all. Your thoughts are often scattered and random - but they're also a lot of fun! You tend to spend a lot of time thinking about esoteric subjects, the meaning of life, and pop culture.

What Color Is Your Brain?

Smile

Some definitions that cracked me up

Baby - An alimentary canal with a loud voice at one end and no responsibility at the other.

Sweater - Something you put on when you mother gets cold.

Father - A guy who is working his son’s way through college.

Careful Driver - One who looks in both directions when he passes a red light.

Friend - Someone who thinks you're a good egg even though you're slightly cracked.

Husband - What's left of a sweetheart after the nerve has been killed.


I took them from here

Ashwath Vriksha

The hindu religion considers the banyan the mightiest of trees. The eternal life, that lives forever thanks to the ever-expanding aerial roots. If we could understand the language of the roots, what would they say?

Insecure words, frustrated with the insignifance of their existence beside the mammoth? Misplaced arrogance that the mammoth depends solely on them for existence?

Being a part of a rich heritage is overwhelming and soothing at the same time. I have years of ancient wisdom in my blood, care of my ancestors and blessing of my family. I also have the responsibility to not let years of traditions stop with me. It is my belief that every little custom in our culture has some meaning to it, some twisted over the years by knaves neverthless. As one of the oldest civilizations, we have observed, experienced, studied and experimented nature over eons and established ground rules that would help us, many passed on through generations - by word of mouth, or through literature. It is my duty to not break the chain and pass this on to the next. To force the coming generations through the same experiences as my ancestors, only to arrive at the same conclusions would be a foolish thing to do indeed.

We had Ganesh Chathurthi celebrations today. For someone who is still confused on 'believing in god', I find the process of preparing for a festival very soothing. I feel good that I am taking pains to learn my customs, so I need not be afraid of breaking the chain. A sense of belonging to a firmly rooted culture, of awe when you feel the family heirloom. Of immense love, when you make something with your own hands, under the direction of an elder, and offer it to someone who you really care for. A mother feeding her kid, a daughter seeking appreciation, a friend wanting to please.

The smell of camphor bringing back old memories, good food and good company made it a very enjoyable, and peaceful occasion.

No wonder Indian festivals are seldom a solitary affair.

May the banyan live forever!

Kids!

If you ever had the chance to be in a 4 hour flight, surrounded by cutesy litte uns, you know the pain. But one little girl was the silver lining during one of my recent trips. Enjoy!

Kutty: Mommy. its haloween tomorrow.

Mom: No honey. haloween doesn't come in summer.

Kutty: No mommy. it is.

Mom: Why do you say that honey? Are you in a rush to get summer over with so
you can get back to school?

Kutty: yeah so I can go to college.

Mom: Oh.. there is lots of time for that. you have 14 more years before you
can go to college.

Kutty: What do people do after college.

Mom: They go to work. Do you know what do you want to work as?

Kutty: ..

Kutty: I want to buy stuff.

Mom: What do you mean?

Kutty: I want to buy stuff for people. (I am grinning now. yeah. my kind of
girl)

Mom: So you want to be a professional shopper?

Kutty: yeah.

Kutty: (after some time) Mommy. I think I might be a wife.

Mom: silence..

(I coudnt control myself beyond this. I burst out laughing)

Mother Nature

A thing or two to learn


And you thought you were cute?

Old order changeth

In my language, mothers chide their kids as 'buffaloes' if they are being lazy and obstinate. You are proud of your son(daughter), if he is a 'lion(ess)', brave and courageous. Societal norms encourage you to convert to lionism even if you were born a buffalo.



Talk about out-of-the-box thinking.