Monday, August 06, 2007
Friday, August 03, 2007
Cauvery
Up at 4.30. Not sure when I did that last. Perhaps on my last trip in US when we went to Mount Greylock. Remembered those umpteen trips in US which necessitated such early-morning wake-ups!
Birds were chirping. Awakening. Telling World that Sun was rising. Air was full of pure ozonised oxygen. The drive was refreshing. Traffic was meager. Road was very good. The demise of my grandparents recently due to car accident has made me more conscious of speed. Maintained a steady 65-75 kmph. Remembered the 65-75 mph speed I used to maintain in US - much to the chagrin of my fellow-mates - after I got caught by cops at 87 mph and had paid $465!!
A good, pleasant drive. Bangalore-Mysore road now is two-lane. Most people follow lane discipline. Honking is a rarity. So, if we had good roads, with sufficient lanes, all provided by the Government, of course, would the citizenry stop honking? So, is it then, that the Government is to be blamed and not citizen for driving without discipline in the country? Remembered a board that the Traffic police had put up: When ants follow lane-discipline, why cant we humans?! Ants follow ants and all have same purpose and they don’t have horns! We have cars, autos, buses, trucks, motorcycles, cycles, scooters, vans, SUVs, tractors, bullock-carts, vegetable-vendors-on-carts, etc. Each has their own sense of urgency. Perhaps we humans follow lane discipline if we didn’t have a plethora of different-shaped vehicles. Or if our vehicles didn’t have horns. Or if we had enormous laned roads. And if pedestrians walked on walkable pavements. But then again, perhaps not, too!
Took a turn at Mandya. Next stretch of 50 odd kms was horrible! Sometimes mud, sometimes asphalted, humps, potholes, sometimes just stones! Bridges which could accommodate only one vehicle at a time. Crossing villages having dilapidated mud houses. If we saw 5-star hotels an hour ago, we could now see people in rags, yet content with their agricultural life. Am sure most wouldn’t know what a computer is. Half-dressed kids staring at vehicles as how we stare at spaceships in museums. Remembered something which I had read recently: Rich and poor live side by side in India. Like a man in rags with earphones from his cell-phone, listening to radio. That was a strange scene!
Villages upon villages scampered by as we bumped across the road, if you can call it that, at about 20 kmph. Lush greenery everywhere, rich due to the Cauvery river basin. Cow, pig, chicken – all running across the road. A herd of goats sitting idly in the middle of road; not even budging for a big bus; all drivers unwilling to disrupt the idle pleasantness, gracefully drove around them! As one of my US friend once remarked, its fascinating to see the varied culture in other countries, especially countries like India, China, South America, etc. Unlike in US, where villages, towns, cities are all stereotyped with standard chains of MacDonald, Subway, Burger King, Dunkin Donut and the same class of roads, buildings and what-not. Much too predictable, one could say.
Reached the place of destination after 3.5 hours of journey. Tiramkundlu Narasipura. A small quaint little village. Temples everywhere across the bank of two rivers – Kapila and Cauvery. The two rivers converging at this village and making a Y-shaped delta. Heavy rains over the season made the river seem full. Less than the previous week, though, when it was 6-7 feet higher. When it had washed away a local urchin by mere current. Whose body was not yet found till date. The local urchin who was liked by one and all in the temple premises.
A bath in a flowing river, to me, is always refreshing. Its like becoming pure all over again. With the temple, attached though to the river, being detached from rest of the village, hardly any vehicular noise could be heard. Under the big tree, on the platform, we sat for hours. A beautiful breeze played over us. It was the only thing we could hear while the river made its silent journey. Such places always, to me, bring tranquility to life. Remembered an almost similar setting at the temple of Tirukoillur.
Visited another temple nearby with Lord Shiva’s idol seemingly cut at the top. From which came a steady slow flow of water. Which is considered as a sacred offering and distributed amongst the devotees as theerth. With its own standardized religious and mythological story.
Temple activities being completed, we had lunch at 1. It was a long time since I had a direct lunch skipping breakfast. Once done, we then proceeded to Bannur. A nearby town which supposedly is the place where our centuries-old ancestor was born. A quick genuflection and we were on our way again. This time to Shivanasamudram. Although, actually it is Gaganachukki Falls where the scenery lies. A nice view of the water falls. Hundreds of vendors with their yummy eateries and the total lack of dustbins, I guess, contributed to the general unhygienic conditions all around. Well, this is the way we are! And of course, monkeys! My 2 year old cousin being fascinated by the herd of monkeys all around than the enormous waterfalls! Water, of course, can be seen in home. But not monkeys!
Proceeded from there on to Barachukki Falls. Even more splendid. A steep 100 step walk down to the base of the water falls to be splashed by the mist. Rapidly flowing water where a number of them enjoyed to their hearts content. Some could even go behind the falls and see through the natural curtain of water! We didn’t have that much time to enjoy but it certainly deserved a day’s trip.
Almost 5 sets of water falls, all almost of equal of width, it was heartening to see such beauty. Instinctively, a person who has been to US, remembers the Niagara. Although magnificent and too-good-to-see, it hardly offers the wholesome pleasure of actually standing beneath the water. Nor, did any waterfalls that I visited in US, as a matter of fact. Still, I must admit, Cave of the Winds at Niagara comes very close. Water there inherently is much too cold to perceive such enjoyment as what I now saw before me! People splashing about, some directly below the falls, enjoying the full force of hydrotherapy and kids yelping in joy! Remembered having read a study that said kids in India were the happiest in the whole world. I felt that it was a great and significant survey.
Alas. Time to go. Steep climb back up the steps. I generally don’t prefer to drive in the night in India. Inexperience of driving facing the oncoming traffic’s headlights on a road which doesn’t have a median makes me want to reach home by dusk. I haven’t driven at night in India for a very long time. But today was an exception. When the Cauvery displays its natural beauty in all its splendour, how can one refuse to stay for ‘a little more time.’ Finally bid adieu to the nice scenery comprising of mountains, river, bridges, hydro electric stations, etc.
Drive back on the same Mysore-Bangalore highway was just as good. Clocked a constant 70-75 kmph. A pleasant, non-competitive, non-adrenaline-rushing, speed. A speed of enjoyment. A speed of safety.
Reached home at 11. Had driven about 350 kms in all. Never had I driven so much before on a single day in India. And I wasn’t even tired…
As I snuggled in my bed, all that remained on my mind was the splendour of the Cauvery…
Birds were chirping. Awakening. Telling World that Sun was rising. Air was full of pure ozonised oxygen. The drive was refreshing. Traffic was meager. Road was very good. The demise of my grandparents recently due to car accident has made me more conscious of speed. Maintained a steady 65-75 kmph. Remembered the 65-75 mph speed I used to maintain in US - much to the chagrin of my fellow-mates - after I got caught by cops at 87 mph and had paid $465!!
A good, pleasant drive. Bangalore-Mysore road now is two-lane. Most people follow lane discipline. Honking is a rarity. So, if we had good roads, with sufficient lanes, all provided by the Government, of course, would the citizenry stop honking? So, is it then, that the Government is to be blamed and not citizen for driving without discipline in the country? Remembered a board that the Traffic police had put up: When ants follow lane-discipline, why cant we humans?! Ants follow ants and all have same purpose and they don’t have horns! We have cars, autos, buses, trucks, motorcycles, cycles, scooters, vans, SUVs, tractors, bullock-carts, vegetable-vendors-on-carts, etc. Each has their own sense of urgency. Perhaps we humans follow lane discipline if we didn’t have a plethora of different-shaped vehicles. Or if our vehicles didn’t have horns. Or if we had enormous laned roads. And if pedestrians walked on walkable pavements. But then again, perhaps not, too!
Took a turn at Mandya. Next stretch of 50 odd kms was horrible! Sometimes mud, sometimes asphalted, humps, potholes, sometimes just stones! Bridges which could accommodate only one vehicle at a time. Crossing villages having dilapidated mud houses. If we saw 5-star hotels an hour ago, we could now see people in rags, yet content with their agricultural life. Am sure most wouldn’t know what a computer is. Half-dressed kids staring at vehicles as how we stare at spaceships in museums. Remembered something which I had read recently: Rich and poor live side by side in India. Like a man in rags with earphones from his cell-phone, listening to radio. That was a strange scene!
Villages upon villages scampered by as we bumped across the road, if you can call it that, at about 20 kmph. Lush greenery everywhere, rich due to the Cauvery river basin. Cow, pig, chicken – all running across the road. A herd of goats sitting idly in the middle of road; not even budging for a big bus; all drivers unwilling to disrupt the idle pleasantness, gracefully drove around them! As one of my US friend once remarked, its fascinating to see the varied culture in other countries, especially countries like India, China, South America, etc. Unlike in US, where villages, towns, cities are all stereotyped with standard chains of MacDonald, Subway, Burger King, Dunkin Donut and the same class of roads, buildings and what-not. Much too predictable, one could say.
Reached the place of destination after 3.5 hours of journey. Tiramkundlu Narasipura. A small quaint little village. Temples everywhere across the bank of two rivers – Kapila and Cauvery. The two rivers converging at this village and making a Y-shaped delta. Heavy rains over the season made the river seem full. Less than the previous week, though, when it was 6-7 feet higher. When it had washed away a local urchin by mere current. Whose body was not yet found till date. The local urchin who was liked by one and all in the temple premises.
A bath in a flowing river, to me, is always refreshing. Its like becoming pure all over again. With the temple, attached though to the river, being detached from rest of the village, hardly any vehicular noise could be heard. Under the big tree, on the platform, we sat for hours. A beautiful breeze played over us. It was the only thing we could hear while the river made its silent journey. Such places always, to me, bring tranquility to life. Remembered an almost similar setting at the temple of Tirukoillur.
Visited another temple nearby with Lord Shiva’s idol seemingly cut at the top. From which came a steady slow flow of water. Which is considered as a sacred offering and distributed amongst the devotees as theerth. With its own standardized religious and mythological story.
Temple activities being completed, we had lunch at 1. It was a long time since I had a direct lunch skipping breakfast. Once done, we then proceeded to Bannur. A nearby town which supposedly is the place where our centuries-old ancestor was born. A quick genuflection and we were on our way again. This time to Shivanasamudram. Although, actually it is Gaganachukki Falls where the scenery lies. A nice view of the water falls. Hundreds of vendors with their yummy eateries and the total lack of dustbins, I guess, contributed to the general unhygienic conditions all around. Well, this is the way we are! And of course, monkeys! My 2 year old cousin being fascinated by the herd of monkeys all around than the enormous waterfalls! Water, of course, can be seen in home. But not monkeys!
Proceeded from there on to Barachukki Falls. Even more splendid. A steep 100 step walk down to the base of the water falls to be splashed by the mist. Rapidly flowing water where a number of them enjoyed to their hearts content. Some could even go behind the falls and see through the natural curtain of water! We didn’t have that much time to enjoy but it certainly deserved a day’s trip.
Almost 5 sets of water falls, all almost of equal of width, it was heartening to see such beauty. Instinctively, a person who has been to US, remembers the Niagara. Although magnificent and too-good-to-see, it hardly offers the wholesome pleasure of actually standing beneath the water. Nor, did any waterfalls that I visited in US, as a matter of fact. Still, I must admit, Cave of the Winds at Niagara comes very close. Water there inherently is much too cold to perceive such enjoyment as what I now saw before me! People splashing about, some directly below the falls, enjoying the full force of hydrotherapy and kids yelping in joy! Remembered having read a study that said kids in India were the happiest in the whole world. I felt that it was a great and significant survey.
Alas. Time to go. Steep climb back up the steps. I generally don’t prefer to drive in the night in India. Inexperience of driving facing the oncoming traffic’s headlights on a road which doesn’t have a median makes me want to reach home by dusk. I haven’t driven at night in India for a very long time. But today was an exception. When the Cauvery displays its natural beauty in all its splendour, how can one refuse to stay for ‘a little more time.’ Finally bid adieu to the nice scenery comprising of mountains, river, bridges, hydro electric stations, etc.
Drive back on the same Mysore-Bangalore highway was just as good. Clocked a constant 70-75 kmph. A pleasant, non-competitive, non-adrenaline-rushing, speed. A speed of enjoyment. A speed of safety.
Reached home at 11. Had driven about 350 kms in all. Never had I driven so much before on a single day in India. And I wasn’t even tired…
As I snuggled in my bed, all that remained on my mind was the splendour of the Cauvery…
Sunday, July 15, 2007
PDA
It is generally at about 10 that mom comes over to my room and starts talking. Mostly it will be a monologue about hundreds of things, which for me, will be more like daily News. My part of the conversation, whilst I am engrossed either in a novel or internet, will mostly be a one-word, seemingly disinterested interjection of ‘How?’, ‘When?’, ‘Then?’, ‘Why?’ and the likes, which is why, she wishes she had a daughter who would have reciprocated with a vibrant volubility! A wish which has now turned into a crave. A crave for daughter-in-law. Well, a painful topic! So lets stop at that!
Anyway, it was on one such occasion that mom came and told about how common it has become in Bangalore these days to see guys and gals being cozy in public. Coochie-cooing openly has become order of the day. Although, pretty common in US, I must admit it still came as a mild shock for me to see the cupid passions for display at hometown. It has been on such a rise that a new law has come into force in co-ed schools to stop boys and girls from holding hands!
While it is a mild shock for me, a Bangalorean for 24 years, I can imagine how it would feel for the 60 plus. From an era in which the girls never saw the guy before marriage to an era when a girl openly asks to be kissed on a busy pavement by a guy whom surely she will not marry, its been one huge sea of a change.
The reason why I used ‘girls’ above as a point of reference is because the mothers generally tend to target them. As my mom said, it’s upto the girl to uphold her dignity and honour. Guys are anyhow branded with a ‘Rowdy’ and ‘Eve-teaser’ image which wont be erased for ages. So, a guy is ‘expected’ to sin. Blaming ‘him’ is useless, for ‘he’ shall always be worthless.
I was mute all through my mom’s tirade of the current generation, until she had her say and went to sleep. However, it set me thinking. She was talking about a common phenomenon, which is quite popularly now called as PDA, acronym for Public Display of Affection. I am neither in favour of it nor against it (which is how I tend to be in most cases, by the way!)
Affection, or a token of love, is something that is actually construed on positive lines. I mean, its good to see two people holding hands, as compared to them in the middle of a verbal abuse. Its good to see two people hugging one another than to see them physically fighting. Why else would people term ‘happy ending’ to a movie if the hero and the hero-ine get together after a three hour epic?! So, PDA should be ideally construed as a positive development and a growth towards betterment of the society.
On the same lines, just for instance, there are hundreds of men defecating on the roads and answering the nature’s call at free will over the compounds of the general public, caring none to the nearby walking pedestrians. Why is it that no one ever speaks badly of such a scene? Urinating is public is clearly something that has to be construed on negative lines, something which a kid’s eyes have to be shielded from lest he takes it for granted and starts imitating the dastardly act. And yet, life goes on, without anyone complaining about the actual scene, but silently cursing that the Government offers far less urinals for the universally-short-bladdered-man.
So, is the case with people spitting, throwing banana peels, wastages, etc, openly on the road or pavement, be it due to the lack of dustbins or, simply due to laziness, even in the presence of dustbins. Blame it on the way we have been brought up, on the civilization, on the education. Blame, adjust, and ignore. Which is what is happening to PDA too, but the whole point is, the hue and cry is misplaced on something which is actually positive but not on the innumerous things which are being carried out negatively in public.
As a parting thought, I shall reproduce below an edited version from The Times of India, Valentines Day edition of 1999, on ‘Touching’, although not directly related to PDA:
Though in a society like ours where an overt expression of affection in terms of physical closeness is often frowned upon, a loving touch is crucial for our well-being. Touch, say, behavioural scientists, often acts as an anti-depressant or relaxant. Researchers have found out that physical touch increases the body’s oxytocin levels. Oxytocin is said to promote feelings of affection and care-taking behavior. Synthetic oxytocin is in fact used to treat depression and obsessive-compulsive behavior. And so, holding each other, hugging, petting, snuggling, stroking is all good for your relationships, heart and health. Experts agree that the benefits of opening our hearts go beyond curing our bodies of disease. It’s the first step towards healing our lives.
Which is what the hugely successful film Munna Bhai MBBS tried to convey partly in its cliché Jaadu-ki-Chappi. An afterthought. Here is a fictitious article that I had written on a similar context in December 2003. It was an article inspired by an ambulance scene in the famous movie Run, Lola, Run.
Anyway, it was on one such occasion that mom came and told about how common it has become in Bangalore these days to see guys and gals being cozy in public. Coochie-cooing openly has become order of the day. Although, pretty common in US, I must admit it still came as a mild shock for me to see the cupid passions for display at hometown. It has been on such a rise that a new law has come into force in co-ed schools to stop boys and girls from holding hands!
While it is a mild shock for me, a Bangalorean for 24 years, I can imagine how it would feel for the 60 plus. From an era in which the girls never saw the guy before marriage to an era when a girl openly asks to be kissed on a busy pavement by a guy whom surely she will not marry, its been one huge sea of a change.
The reason why I used ‘girls’ above as a point of reference is because the mothers generally tend to target them. As my mom said, it’s upto the girl to uphold her dignity and honour. Guys are anyhow branded with a ‘Rowdy’ and ‘Eve-teaser’ image which wont be erased for ages. So, a guy is ‘expected’ to sin. Blaming ‘him’ is useless, for ‘he’ shall always be worthless.
I was mute all through my mom’s tirade of the current generation, until she had her say and went to sleep. However, it set me thinking. She was talking about a common phenomenon, which is quite popularly now called as PDA, acronym for Public Display of Affection. I am neither in favour of it nor against it (which is how I tend to be in most cases, by the way!)
Affection, or a token of love, is something that is actually construed on positive lines. I mean, its good to see two people holding hands, as compared to them in the middle of a verbal abuse. Its good to see two people hugging one another than to see them physically fighting. Why else would people term ‘happy ending’ to a movie if the hero and the hero-ine get together after a three hour epic?! So, PDA should be ideally construed as a positive development and a growth towards betterment of the society.
On the same lines, just for instance, there are hundreds of men defecating on the roads and answering the nature’s call at free will over the compounds of the general public, caring none to the nearby walking pedestrians. Why is it that no one ever speaks badly of such a scene? Urinating is public is clearly something that has to be construed on negative lines, something which a kid’s eyes have to be shielded from lest he takes it for granted and starts imitating the dastardly act. And yet, life goes on, without anyone complaining about the actual scene, but silently cursing that the Government offers far less urinals for the universally-short-bladdered-man.
So, is the case with people spitting, throwing banana peels, wastages, etc, openly on the road or pavement, be it due to the lack of dustbins or, simply due to laziness, even in the presence of dustbins. Blame it on the way we have been brought up, on the civilization, on the education. Blame, adjust, and ignore. Which is what is happening to PDA too, but the whole point is, the hue and cry is misplaced on something which is actually positive but not on the innumerous things which are being carried out negatively in public.
As a parting thought, I shall reproduce below an edited version from The Times of India, Valentines Day edition of 1999, on ‘Touching’, although not directly related to PDA:
Though in a society like ours where an overt expression of affection in terms of physical closeness is often frowned upon, a loving touch is crucial for our well-being. Touch, say, behavioural scientists, often acts as an anti-depressant or relaxant. Researchers have found out that physical touch increases the body’s oxytocin levels. Oxytocin is said to promote feelings of affection and care-taking behavior. Synthetic oxytocin is in fact used to treat depression and obsessive-compulsive behavior. And so, holding each other, hugging, petting, snuggling, stroking is all good for your relationships, heart and health. Experts agree that the benefits of opening our hearts go beyond curing our bodies of disease. It’s the first step towards healing our lives.
Which is what the hugely successful film Munna Bhai MBBS tried to convey partly in its cliché Jaadu-ki-Chappi. An afterthought. Here is a fictitious article that I had written on a similar context in December 2003. It was an article inspired by an ambulance scene in the famous movie Run, Lola, Run.
Time to change...
The car broke down.
The Kinetic Honda doesn’t start.
The cellphone is not getting charged.
The watch strap went for a toss.
The TV screen is showing only red.
The washing machine is not working properly.
As one person told me,
‘One has to live, and one has to live well.’
That’s when I decided.
Its time for a new Me.
I got brochures for a new car. (Enough of buying used cars)
I will get a new two-wheeler. (Pre-conditions to be satisfied)
I got a new cellphone (which isn’t really my type, yet I like it)
New strap, but not yet a new watch. (Its too dear to me!)
TV is sent for repair. (Family didn’t approve for a new one, although I was ready!)
Washing machine is being replaced. (Damn salesman never came over the weekend)
Perhaps, not yet,
But I feel like George Costanza of Seinfeld.
‘When doing things the way one has been doing all one’s life doesn’t seem to be working, then, its time to be the exact opposite of what one actually is.’
I haven’t yet been able to transform myself into the exact opposite of what I have been, but changes are on its way.
The Kinetic Honda doesn’t start.
The cellphone is not getting charged.
The watch strap went for a toss.
The TV screen is showing only red.
The washing machine is not working properly.
As one person told me,
‘One has to live, and one has to live well.’
That’s when I decided.
Its time for a new Me.
I got brochures for a new car. (Enough of buying used cars)
I will get a new two-wheeler. (Pre-conditions to be satisfied)
I got a new cellphone (which isn’t really my type, yet I like it)
New strap, but not yet a new watch. (Its too dear to me!)
TV is sent for repair. (Family didn’t approve for a new one, although I was ready!)
Washing machine is being replaced. (Damn salesman never came over the weekend)
Perhaps, not yet,
But I feel like George Costanza of Seinfeld.
‘When doing things the way one has been doing all one’s life doesn’t seem to be working, then, its time to be the exact opposite of what one actually is.’
I haven’t yet been able to transform myself into the exact opposite of what I have been, but changes are on its way.
Athithi Satkara
I disembarked from the Kinetic and looked at the house. It seemed remarkable. Spacious front patio with a swing. The twisting granite steps at the left front corner to the first floor gave the overall house a good look. I went up the stairs, wondering what lay ahead.
There was more spacious patio on the first floor too and then a big main door. I went near the door which was open. My attendance was noticed and there was a shuffle of feet. The Father was on cordless phone, gave a quick nod, indicating I was welcome. The living room was exquisite. Clean and tidy all around, it was decorated suitably well and was very pleasing. The Mother asked me to take a seat on the couch in the living room, and she would join soon. She was just finishing her breakfast. She was kind enough to ask if I had had my breakfast, which I replied in affirmative. The Father went out to the front balcony to finish the call. I then sat on the couch, in awe.
Awe is an inadequate word. Stunned, was much more like it. Staggering, too. The reason lie just beside me. The entire wall beside the couch was made into a show-case consisting of innumerous, awards, medallions, certificates of excellence and recognition and unbelievable achievement. On top of the whole show-case was a medium-sized, beautifully smiling picture of the person to whom it all belonged. Till date, I had just heard of extraordinarily talented people, at the most, had met them, but had never envisoned how their house would be! Such an impressive collection of medals and certificates, on top of the equally innumerous monetary awards, would make any parent proud. If one has to live, one should live like this, I felt.
The Mother joined me a few minutes later and I came out of the reverie. She was a pleasant looking woman with a pair of eyes that seemed remarkably young and vibrant and soothing, all at the same time. We spoke briefly on the purpose of my visit.
Just then the Father joined us. To be on ‘same page’, I felt it adequate to introduce myself, with a little bit of my academic background and my subsequent professional life (both in India and US), and how I ended up coming to their house. This took a good ten minutes.
Back to the topic, the Mother gave a brief response of the question that I had raised. She seemed acutely intelligent and was very precise and clear-cut in her thought process. With clinical precision, she laid out the step-by-step process that was involved and the juxtaposing red-tape. Apart from that, there were the different avenues that were open with their share of crests and troughs. For every question of mine, she had a reassuring and fulfilling answer. She invited questions with an open and welcoming attitude coupled with a pleasant countenance which made it all the more easy.
The Father too gave important bits of information at necessary intervals and the various ‘How-to-go-about’s which only an experienced person can delve in details. Being in such a great position professionally, he was remarkably soft-spoken and charming. On a more personal note, the first word that comes to me when I think about him is ‘Geniality.’ He was affability personified and put in a good measure of humour as and when required.
What struck me most was the way each of them complimented one another. There was clearly immense respect between them and they were mentally on the same frequency. While a joke from the Mother invoked a hearty laughter in the Father, a serious line of thought from the Father was vehemently consented by the Mother. While the Mother was explaining in detail about the intricacies and how life to the forefathers was far easier compared to current policies, the Father brought me a cup of coffee. The ability to reverse roles as and when required without the slightest ado nor communication is something which I hadnt seen often in families. They were both so down-to-earth and it was such an ease to be with the two and strike a conversation!
Without my knowing, the time had jumped by an hour! After a couple of digressing topics, like on the medals on show-case (which wasn’t so hard to digest, now that I knew the caliber of the Family!), and their owner, and about my own future and professional life, the conversation seemed to have come to a logical end.
It isn’t always that one feels so much at ease in a strange house. I only felt it once before when I had gone to a junior’s house. The hospitality extended in that house affected me for days together (the how-can-anyone-be-so-good? feeling) and I am sure it’s the same case with the hospitality extended today in this house.
I felt thoroughly satisfied in visiting and most of my questions were answered. Although the situation didn’t seem to be in my favour, at least now I knew lots of stuff that I heretofore never even thought existed.
As I departed, I informed what a nice time I had had and termed it ‘Enchanting and enthralling.’ It was even inspiring and exhilirating, but I swallowed the adjectives. I begged the Mother to involve me in any grand enterprise she ever ventured into. We exchanged numbers and, with a gratifying smile, I bid adieu to both of them. Although it took me some time on the Kinetic to get the bearings, the Father waited on the front balcony to wave me a goodbye. I have always felt, that that final wave of goodbye, waiting till the guest truly goes out of sight, firmly belongs to a supreme class of etiquette in treating a guest (Athithi satkara). It is an exquisite gesture on the part of the host.
We don’t generally mean it when we say ‘It was a pleasure meeting you,’ but this time, I really felt it was indeed a true pleasure. Wow! What a family!!
There was more spacious patio on the first floor too and then a big main door. I went near the door which was open. My attendance was noticed and there was a shuffle of feet. The Father was on cordless phone, gave a quick nod, indicating I was welcome. The living room was exquisite. Clean and tidy all around, it was decorated suitably well and was very pleasing. The Mother asked me to take a seat on the couch in the living room, and she would join soon. She was just finishing her breakfast. She was kind enough to ask if I had had my breakfast, which I replied in affirmative. The Father went out to the front balcony to finish the call. I then sat on the couch, in awe.
Awe is an inadequate word. Stunned, was much more like it. Staggering, too. The reason lie just beside me. The entire wall beside the couch was made into a show-case consisting of innumerous, awards, medallions, certificates of excellence and recognition and unbelievable achievement. On top of the whole show-case was a medium-sized, beautifully smiling picture of the person to whom it all belonged. Till date, I had just heard of extraordinarily talented people, at the most, had met them, but had never envisoned how their house would be! Such an impressive collection of medals and certificates, on top of the equally innumerous monetary awards, would make any parent proud. If one has to live, one should live like this, I felt.
The Mother joined me a few minutes later and I came out of the reverie. She was a pleasant looking woman with a pair of eyes that seemed remarkably young and vibrant and soothing, all at the same time. We spoke briefly on the purpose of my visit.
Just then the Father joined us. To be on ‘same page’, I felt it adequate to introduce myself, with a little bit of my academic background and my subsequent professional life (both in India and US), and how I ended up coming to their house. This took a good ten minutes.
Back to the topic, the Mother gave a brief response of the question that I had raised. She seemed acutely intelligent and was very precise and clear-cut in her thought process. With clinical precision, she laid out the step-by-step process that was involved and the juxtaposing red-tape. Apart from that, there were the different avenues that were open with their share of crests and troughs. For every question of mine, she had a reassuring and fulfilling answer. She invited questions with an open and welcoming attitude coupled with a pleasant countenance which made it all the more easy.
The Father too gave important bits of information at necessary intervals and the various ‘How-to-go-about’s which only an experienced person can delve in details. Being in such a great position professionally, he was remarkably soft-spoken and charming. On a more personal note, the first word that comes to me when I think about him is ‘Geniality.’ He was affability personified and put in a good measure of humour as and when required.
What struck me most was the way each of them complimented one another. There was clearly immense respect between them and they were mentally on the same frequency. While a joke from the Mother invoked a hearty laughter in the Father, a serious line of thought from the Father was vehemently consented by the Mother. While the Mother was explaining in detail about the intricacies and how life to the forefathers was far easier compared to current policies, the Father brought me a cup of coffee. The ability to reverse roles as and when required without the slightest ado nor communication is something which I hadnt seen often in families. They were both so down-to-earth and it was such an ease to be with the two and strike a conversation!
Without my knowing, the time had jumped by an hour! After a couple of digressing topics, like on the medals on show-case (which wasn’t so hard to digest, now that I knew the caliber of the Family!), and their owner, and about my own future and professional life, the conversation seemed to have come to a logical end.
It isn’t always that one feels so much at ease in a strange house. I only felt it once before when I had gone to a junior’s house. The hospitality extended in that house affected me for days together (the how-can-anyone-be-so-good? feeling) and I am sure it’s the same case with the hospitality extended today in this house.
I felt thoroughly satisfied in visiting and most of my questions were answered. Although the situation didn’t seem to be in my favour, at least now I knew lots of stuff that I heretofore never even thought existed.
As I departed, I informed what a nice time I had had and termed it ‘Enchanting and enthralling.’ It was even inspiring and exhilirating, but I swallowed the adjectives. I begged the Mother to involve me in any grand enterprise she ever ventured into. We exchanged numbers and, with a gratifying smile, I bid adieu to both of them. Although it took me some time on the Kinetic to get the bearings, the Father waited on the front balcony to wave me a goodbye. I have always felt, that that final wave of goodbye, waiting till the guest truly goes out of sight, firmly belongs to a supreme class of etiquette in treating a guest (Athithi satkara). It is an exquisite gesture on the part of the host.
We don’t generally mean it when we say ‘It was a pleasure meeting you,’ but this time, I really felt it was indeed a true pleasure. Wow! What a family!!
Saturday, July 07, 2007
A simple conversation
I was waiting for my turn at the ante-room. Sir was teaching Violin for a small boy in the classroom. His mother was sitting beside him and assisting him. His younger sister, a small kid, sauntered out of the room and came and sat beside me on the couch. Her eyes darted here and there, looking at nothing and at everything at the same time. Caring to the none, she jumped and frolicked on the couch's hand rest. Her skirt went all over her. She moved her hands limply as if it was some hanging thing!
"What is your name?" I asked her.
"Shwetha," she said with a smile. Then, her face clouded as if it was an incorrect answer. Rather, incomplete, for she said again, "My name is Shwetha R. S." Initials were an essential part of the name!
To continue the conversation, I asked her "Which class are you in?"
Without a moment's hesitation, she answered, "Kamala Garden School."
I realised my question was in the wrong order. I guess everyone asks name first, school and then class. She was just rolling out the answers as if she had the answers ready for a leaked question paper!
Nevertheless, I continued, "Which school do you go to?"
This time, she understood the question, and answered, "Kamala Garden School" as if it was the first time she was answering me.
Then I asked again, "Which class are you in?"
"UKG."
I ran out of questions. So I became silent and focussed on listening to violin class going on. Its always a pleasure to listen when a music class is going on.
With nothing to do, Shwetha ran out of the ante-room out of the door, meddled with some things and came back to the ante-room. Roamed around the length of the room, went to the corners, stared at all the photos, squinted, made faces, and came back to sit beside me.
"You are not learning Violin like your brother?" I asked.
"No." An instant reply.
"Why?" I asked.
Without a thought, she replied, "I donno."
Fair enough, but I wanted to pursue the conversation and ask about her interests. So, I asked "So, what do you like?"
The response was again instantaneous: "Lollipop."
It was such an innocent answer! Of course, what else would kids of such age like?!
"What is your age?" I asked.
"4," she replied. And for the first time, asked me a question, "What is your age?"
It was something that I wasn't asked very often. For, most people with whom I hang out already know my age. It took a moment for me to recollect my age. "27," I replied.
She made an expression of exclamation as if it was an improbable age! She gaped open at me! I merely smiled back!
After some time, she asked, "What is your name?"
"Harsha," I replied.
"Eh?"
"Harsha."
She again went off somewhere. She was so full of energy and vitality, bouncing about, here and there! Joyously playing, with no shred of worry! Where do they get all that energy from?! It was a pure pleasure to see!
She came back to the couch and asked me: "Where is your mommy?" It was such a simple yet profound question. At age 4, you cant go roaming about without Mommy being within eye sight!
Yet, I replied, "My Mommy is at home." She received the response with equanimity.
We both sat silent for some time, listening to the music wafting through to us. Then, a mosquito came towards her. She waved her hands, threatening to hit it. She was smiling, as if mosquito was an automatic plaything sent to her from heaven!
"What is that?" I asked her.
"That is solle," she replied, solle being the Kannada translation to mosquito. Obviously she wasnt aware of the 'mosquito' word. I laughed at her innocence and taught her the 'Mosquito' word.
The music stopped from the classroom. It was my turn next. I turned to Shwetha, said 'Bye', which she returned, and headed to the classroom.
Simple, though, our conversation was, it was so refreshing!
"What is your name?" I asked her.
"Shwetha," she said with a smile. Then, her face clouded as if it was an incorrect answer. Rather, incomplete, for she said again, "My name is Shwetha R. S." Initials were an essential part of the name!
To continue the conversation, I asked her "Which class are you in?"
Without a moment's hesitation, she answered, "Kamala Garden School."
I realised my question was in the wrong order. I guess everyone asks name first, school and then class. She was just rolling out the answers as if she had the answers ready for a leaked question paper!
Nevertheless, I continued, "Which school do you go to?"
This time, she understood the question, and answered, "Kamala Garden School" as if it was the first time she was answering me.
Then I asked again, "Which class are you in?"
"UKG."
I ran out of questions. So I became silent and focussed on listening to violin class going on. Its always a pleasure to listen when a music class is going on.
With nothing to do, Shwetha ran out of the ante-room out of the door, meddled with some things and came back to the ante-room. Roamed around the length of the room, went to the corners, stared at all the photos, squinted, made faces, and came back to sit beside me.
"You are not learning Violin like your brother?" I asked.
"No." An instant reply.
"Why?" I asked.
Without a thought, she replied, "I donno."
Fair enough, but I wanted to pursue the conversation and ask about her interests. So, I asked "So, what do you like?"
The response was again instantaneous: "Lollipop."
It was such an innocent answer! Of course, what else would kids of such age like?!
"What is your age?" I asked.
"4," she replied. And for the first time, asked me a question, "What is your age?"
It was something that I wasn't asked very often. For, most people with whom I hang out already know my age. It took a moment for me to recollect my age. "27," I replied.
She made an expression of exclamation as if it was an improbable age! She gaped open at me! I merely smiled back!
After some time, she asked, "What is your name?"
"Harsha," I replied.
"Eh?"
"Harsha."
She again went off somewhere. She was so full of energy and vitality, bouncing about, here and there! Joyously playing, with no shred of worry! Where do they get all that energy from?! It was a pure pleasure to see!
She came back to the couch and asked me: "Where is your mommy?" It was such a simple yet profound question. At age 4, you cant go roaming about without Mommy being within eye sight!
Yet, I replied, "My Mommy is at home." She received the response with equanimity.
We both sat silent for some time, listening to the music wafting through to us. Then, a mosquito came towards her. She waved her hands, threatening to hit it. She was smiling, as if mosquito was an automatic plaything sent to her from heaven!
"What is that?" I asked her.
"That is solle," she replied, solle being the Kannada translation to mosquito. Obviously she wasnt aware of the 'mosquito' word. I laughed at her innocence and taught her the 'Mosquito' word.
The music stopped from the classroom. It was my turn next. I turned to Shwetha, said 'Bye', which she returned, and headed to the classroom.
Simple, though, our conversation was, it was so refreshing!
Wednesday, July 04, 2007
Environment
To continue from where I had left off…..
The sign-board near the wash-basin of my India office’s restroom, further states the following information about water:
1. If the entire water in this world is put in a gallon jug, freshwater available for use is just one tablespoon.
2. 10000 children under the age of 5 in Third World countries die due to illness contracted by impure water.
3. Most people in this world have to walk 3 hours to fetch water.
4. By 2025, 52 countries (making up 2/3 of the population) will suffer from water shortages.
5. About 6800 gallons of water is required to grow a food for family of four.
6. Freshwater animals are disappearing 5 times faster than land animals.
The world is imminently progressing towards devastation. An environmental banner put it succinctly: ‘Ice melting is now a hot topic!’ Its like the fizz building up within the soda bottle. The cap might burst open any time.
The Shiv-Ling natural ice-sculpture at Amarnath has completely melted. The Mount Everest height has decreased. The ice glaciers in South and North Pole are melting. Many river basins in India have dried out. Winters now no longer need sweaters. The Sea water is increasing. Rain has become erratic.
Birds have vanished. There was a time, when we used to enjoy the sparrows pecking at food in our porches but for the current generation, sparrows are as good as extinct.
A part of the Ozone layer over the Arctic has vanished. If the hole increases over civilization, it’s a dual disaster. Not only will the Sun’s rays penetrate directly (causing God-knows how many skin diseases) but also the richness of Oxygen which is usually found during early mornings generated by Ozone can no longer be used as a healing or refreshing agent by the morning walkers and joggers.
Many healing procedures are based out on simple breathing techniques like Yoga. The pure oxygen wafting through the blood veins can cure innumerous diseases if concentrated. But, the clean pure air is being polluted heavily making even breathing a laborious task.
Almost everything we use today generates heat. The electrical applicances like refrigerator, television, microwave, the automobiles like cars, trucks, trains, aeroplanes, the computers at offices and even the laptop which I am using currently!
Bangalore Corporation cut 68 trees on Sunday to widen the road. Trees which give us clean air replaced by vehicles which pollute the air. Chinese Government approves making an asphalted (imagine the heat!) road to Mount Everest’s Base Camp for the runner to carry the Olympic torch. Dubai, Singapore and many other countries create man-made islands to create more land space and attract tourists. If land is made out of water, water level will surely increase and coupled with ice glaciers melting, port cities will soon be submerged.
Rain water is not harvested. Solar energy usage is not mandated. Hundreds of advertisement hoardings have flashy lights all night when hardly anyone sees them. Man is carelessly wasting natural resources. The other day I saw a big corporate hunk running the tap on while he lathered his face with soap for full 5 minutes. I am sure, for people of his class, its tough to turn the tap off while brushing. A day will come when we wouldn’t even have water to brush our teeth or soap our faces, although we might haughtily state: ‘Tell me how much it costs. I will pay for it.’ Money is something invented by Man. But Water is not.
Just as I sign off, I can hear the water over-flowing from an overhead tank. I know water will keep over-flowing till tomorrow morning when the owner gets up and realize the folly. What he does not realize is that its almost equivalent to having killed a human being for depriving him of potable water. For me, it’s a criminal offence to have wasted pure water.
Focus now is just on money. A folly of not switching the pump off leading to over-flow in overhead tank is, for today, just a matter of couple of hundred rupees extra in the water bill. A grossly polluting emission-untested vehicle, upon being caught, has to cough up – a curious expression! – a few hundred rupees, which almost anyone can afford these days, caring none to the world. The point is its not about money. Its about Environment and natural resources. Its almost equivalent to committing murder, and upon being caught by the cops, pay off a couple of grand, and move on.
After all, if man disturbs ecosystem, a time will surely come when the ecosystem disturbs man. We are just converting Earth into a hellhole where soon we ourselves are bound to suffer.
Plazas are opening where Oxygen is provided for enhanced breathing as if its an innovation. Mineral water bottles are manufactured as if something great is being done to mankind. A decade or two ago, there was pure Oxygen everywhere and water was as pure as it gets. This is so true of what Masanobu Fukuoka said in his One-Straw Revolution:
Human beings with their tamperings do something wrong, leave the damage unrepaired and when the adverse results accumulate, work with all their might to correct them. When the corrective actions appear to be successful, they come to view these measures as splendid accomplishment.
The sign-board near the wash-basin of my India office’s restroom, further states the following information about water:
1. If the entire water in this world is put in a gallon jug, freshwater available for use is just one tablespoon.
2. 10000 children under the age of 5 in Third World countries die due to illness contracted by impure water.
3. Most people in this world have to walk 3 hours to fetch water.
4. By 2025, 52 countries (making up 2/3 of the population) will suffer from water shortages.
5. About 6800 gallons of water is required to grow a food for family of four.
6. Freshwater animals are disappearing 5 times faster than land animals.
The world is imminently progressing towards devastation. An environmental banner put it succinctly: ‘Ice melting is now a hot topic!’ Its like the fizz building up within the soda bottle. The cap might burst open any time.
The Shiv-Ling natural ice-sculpture at Amarnath has completely melted. The Mount Everest height has decreased. The ice glaciers in South and North Pole are melting. Many river basins in India have dried out. Winters now no longer need sweaters. The Sea water is increasing. Rain has become erratic.
Birds have vanished. There was a time, when we used to enjoy the sparrows pecking at food in our porches but for the current generation, sparrows are as good as extinct.
A part of the Ozone layer over the Arctic has vanished. If the hole increases over civilization, it’s a dual disaster. Not only will the Sun’s rays penetrate directly (causing God-knows how many skin diseases) but also the richness of Oxygen which is usually found during early mornings generated by Ozone can no longer be used as a healing or refreshing agent by the morning walkers and joggers.
Many healing procedures are based out on simple breathing techniques like Yoga. The pure oxygen wafting through the blood veins can cure innumerous diseases if concentrated. But, the clean pure air is being polluted heavily making even breathing a laborious task.
Almost everything we use today generates heat. The electrical applicances like refrigerator, television, microwave, the automobiles like cars, trucks, trains, aeroplanes, the computers at offices and even the laptop which I am using currently!
Bangalore Corporation cut 68 trees on Sunday to widen the road. Trees which give us clean air replaced by vehicles which pollute the air. Chinese Government approves making an asphalted (imagine the heat!) road to Mount Everest’s Base Camp for the runner to carry the Olympic torch. Dubai, Singapore and many other countries create man-made islands to create more land space and attract tourists. If land is made out of water, water level will surely increase and coupled with ice glaciers melting, port cities will soon be submerged.
Rain water is not harvested. Solar energy usage is not mandated. Hundreds of advertisement hoardings have flashy lights all night when hardly anyone sees them. Man is carelessly wasting natural resources. The other day I saw a big corporate hunk running the tap on while he lathered his face with soap for full 5 minutes. I am sure, for people of his class, its tough to turn the tap off while brushing. A day will come when we wouldn’t even have water to brush our teeth or soap our faces, although we might haughtily state: ‘Tell me how much it costs. I will pay for it.’ Money is something invented by Man. But Water is not.
Just as I sign off, I can hear the water over-flowing from an overhead tank. I know water will keep over-flowing till tomorrow morning when the owner gets up and realize the folly. What he does not realize is that its almost equivalent to having killed a human being for depriving him of potable water. For me, it’s a criminal offence to have wasted pure water.
Focus now is just on money. A folly of not switching the pump off leading to over-flow in overhead tank is, for today, just a matter of couple of hundred rupees extra in the water bill. A grossly polluting emission-untested vehicle, upon being caught, has to cough up – a curious expression! – a few hundred rupees, which almost anyone can afford these days, caring none to the world. The point is its not about money. Its about Environment and natural resources. Its almost equivalent to committing murder, and upon being caught by the cops, pay off a couple of grand, and move on.
After all, if man disturbs ecosystem, a time will surely come when the ecosystem disturbs man. We are just converting Earth into a hellhole where soon we ourselves are bound to suffer.
Plazas are opening where Oxygen is provided for enhanced breathing as if its an innovation. Mineral water bottles are manufactured as if something great is being done to mankind. A decade or two ago, there was pure Oxygen everywhere and water was as pure as it gets. This is so true of what Masanobu Fukuoka said in his One-Straw Revolution:
Human beings with their tamperings do something wrong, leave the damage unrepaired and when the adverse results accumulate, work with all their might to correct them. When the corrective actions appear to be successful, they come to view these measures as splendid accomplishment.
Sunday, July 01, 2007
Water
A sign near the wash-basin of the rest room in the US office where I worked:
Many diseases can be prevented by washing hands thoroughly. Keep your hands under the water and sing yourself a ‘Happy Birthday’ song and do not withdraw your hands until the song is completed!
A sign near the wash-basin of the rest room in the India office where I am working:
Use natural resources sparingly. Conserve water.
Many diseases can be prevented by washing hands thoroughly. Keep your hands under the water and sing yourself a ‘Happy Birthday’ song and do not withdraw your hands until the song is completed!
A sign near the wash-basin of the rest room in the India office where I am working:
Use natural resources sparingly. Conserve water.
Friday, June 29, 2007
English
Since the climate in Bangalore is drastically changing to winter, I decided to buy myself a jacket. I generally do not shop for hours together nor do I like shopping. In most cases, I buy from the first shop that I enter. However, in this case, the shop owner seemed to be rude and, as if taking revenge, I left his shop and entered his neighbour’s store. As they say, all for good. I got a better deal with lots of courtesy!
Anyway, so I was waiting for my payment to be processed when a mother came in with her son aged about seven to buy a raincoat. She conversed with the salesman in Kannada and told her requirements. The salesman got some raincoats for the kid. And then the kid started complaining to the mother about the offered raincoats, saying the length was incorrect, the color was too dark, etc.
But it was not the grouse that made me surprised. It was the kid’s language. The kid was talking in flawless English with an accent! A kid aged about seven, to its mother, in pure English, as if he was taught not to talk in any other language! And the mother too, it seemed, talked with her son only in English!
While enabling the children to speak in flawless English at a very early age surely adds an edge to the child’s career growth, and even makes other kids with lack of English speaking abilities cringe, I somehow am strongly of the opinion that English, to people whose mother tongue is not English, is just a means of communication in a common language, and is to be used only when the person to whom you are talking to does not understand the language that you actually speak, or is not comfortable.
Of course, to learn talking in a particular language, it makes sense for the student to have some days of the week in School where no other language is permitted to be spoken (as is how it is usually done in Swiss Chalet schools to learn French and other foreign languages). But to not speak a single syllable in one’s own language to one’s own mother in a general outing is for me, a great loss in terms of handing over the tradition of a beautiful language. One does not have to be an expert but at least one should talk with family members in one’s own language!
I wonder if it’s the same case in, for example, a German or a Spanish family. I mean, do the mother-kid conversations happen in English? I confess I am no good in Kannada either, but at least I make it a point to talk in Kannada with those who know Kannada! There are times when many non-Kannadiga friends of mine have asked particular translation which I have shamefully admitted I do not know. If this situation worsens in the future generations, a century later, the whole language will become extinct and the beauty and purity of the language will be buried forever.
There was a time when the English ruled us Indians. And then Indians got independence from the English. And now to compete in the global arena, the future generation is being enabled to be adept in the common language which is English. But if this happens at the cost of losing touch with one’s own originality and India’s diverse culture and language, then, I fear, the English is starting to rule us Indians again…literally.
Anyway, so I was waiting for my payment to be processed when a mother came in with her son aged about seven to buy a raincoat. She conversed with the salesman in Kannada and told her requirements. The salesman got some raincoats for the kid. And then the kid started complaining to the mother about the offered raincoats, saying the length was incorrect, the color was too dark, etc.
But it was not the grouse that made me surprised. It was the kid’s language. The kid was talking in flawless English with an accent! A kid aged about seven, to its mother, in pure English, as if he was taught not to talk in any other language! And the mother too, it seemed, talked with her son only in English!
While enabling the children to speak in flawless English at a very early age surely adds an edge to the child’s career growth, and even makes other kids with lack of English speaking abilities cringe, I somehow am strongly of the opinion that English, to people whose mother tongue is not English, is just a means of communication in a common language, and is to be used only when the person to whom you are talking to does not understand the language that you actually speak, or is not comfortable.
Of course, to learn talking in a particular language, it makes sense for the student to have some days of the week in School where no other language is permitted to be spoken (as is how it is usually done in Swiss Chalet schools to learn French and other foreign languages). But to not speak a single syllable in one’s own language to one’s own mother in a general outing is for me, a great loss in terms of handing over the tradition of a beautiful language. One does not have to be an expert but at least one should talk with family members in one’s own language!
I wonder if it’s the same case in, for example, a German or a Spanish family. I mean, do the mother-kid conversations happen in English? I confess I am no good in Kannada either, but at least I make it a point to talk in Kannada with those who know Kannada! There are times when many non-Kannadiga friends of mine have asked particular translation which I have shamefully admitted I do not know. If this situation worsens in the future generations, a century later, the whole language will become extinct and the beauty and purity of the language will be buried forever.
There was a time when the English ruled us Indians. And then Indians got independence from the English. And now to compete in the global arena, the future generation is being enabled to be adept in the common language which is English. But if this happens at the cost of losing touch with one’s own originality and India’s diverse culture and language, then, I fear, the English is starting to rule us Indians again…literally.
Monday, June 25, 2007
If looks could kill…
I can only further acclaim to the fact that girls are indeed beautiful. Much has been said about the art encompassed in their bodily figure; much forwards have been received about how God first made Man as a draft and said ‘Oops’, and then improvised when he made Woman and said ‘Practice makes perfect’; much has been said in films, comparing the ‘fairer sex’ (as they are more prominently called) to the beautiful things in this world. I, for one, can just nod my approval.
Not to be interpreted that I am currently in need of a girl for marriage considering my age and marital status, but this article was due from me for a long time. Of course, as the wise man says, beautiful girls and marriage are two separate things altogether!
A guy friend of mine (Mithun) once told a gal friend of mine (Ashwini) what simple pleasures she is missing by being a gal. He was referring to appreciating the beauty of the other gender, of deriving bountiful pleasures by just looking at girls and admiring the colour they added to an otherwise dull landscape! And Ashwini replied, quite succinctly, and with a wink in her eyes, “I only have to look at myself in the mirror!” Somehow, I felt the whole conversation to be very profound. While what Mithun said was very true, it was also equally true what Ashwini had said. Girls just have to look in the mirror and pamper themselves to feel the beauty within.
When I was in High school, where one learns a lot about Life in general and the other gender in particular, the concept of ‘eve-teasing’ and ‘rape’ always amused me. Keeping aside the fact that, of course, I strictly abhorred the two, it still was amusing because, there were a lot of girls who used to flaunt their, hmm, shall we say, ‘assets’, almost inviting to be eve-teased, to be raped, (assuming of course that ‘revenge’ is outside the scope for this chronicle). Some men, as we all know, are still very much uncultivated, true animals, and the aspect of a lady in revealing attire is as equivalent as showing blood on the hand to a shark in an open sea.
So then the question arose as to why this ‘flaunting’? My high school brain tried to figure out some answers. I then realized that there were girls who were naturally beautiful and then there were girls who were less lucky. Now, forget the beauty pageants, forget any sort of artificial beauty-enhancements, if a member of both the lucky and unlucky species were to stand, for example, in a bus-stand, needless to say, the majority of ‘men-turning-heads’ would be to the luckier of the two.
‘Men-turning-heads’, I realized, is in effect, actually a big compliment. A thing that makes anyone happy. It was like an unsaid compliment. Just an acknowledgement of beauty. While, turned heads is fulfilling, anything else further will be construed as bordering offensive. Here is where the distinction between the cultivated man and the uncultivated man lies.
While a man of culture and proper upbringing sums up a girl in a second, acknowledges the beauty and the curves, and might even turn for an appreciative second look, the uncultivated few mentally undress the girls through their eyes and make them feel vulnerable and scared. They ogle at them as if they are a delicacy to be eaten. As a means of male dominancy, they look at them as if they were servants, existing only to serve man and his basic instincts. And, to be fair to the cultivated men, it is this minority of the uncultivated few, who involve themselves in demeaning acts such as eve-teasing and rape, unable to control their desires.
Of course, the plight of the unlucky gal at the bus-stand is easily understood. No ‘men-turning-heads’ for her is a sad thing. Most gals want to attract attention sufficient enough to be appreciated. So, then comes into picture the artificial beauty-enhancers such as revealing dresses, make-up, extensive hair-do, et cetera, et cetera. Faced with such a scenario where the gal is trying her best to attract attention, and coupled with the presence of a few unruly men, the plan might backfire & its almost like mixing two important chemicals of a bomb.
Attire is an important feature of beauty. Everyone wants to look beautiful. So it makes sense to wear the perfect and fitting attire. Being in US for almost 2 years, made me realize how perfectly attired almost everyone was, barring of course, the crazy college-goers. Whether it was to office on weekdays or to malls on weekends, almost everyone is perfectly dressed for the occasion.
I had heard a catch-line that a lady’s skirt should be short enough to arouse curiosity but long enough to cover the subject matter! While it is right to be inline with the current fashion statement, it does become gross and indecent to be extra-revealing.
To be fair to male species as well, I have met some of the most handsome and dignified gentlemen one could ever come across. There was one person called Chris in the US office where I worked who tops the list. Coupled with a deep yet soft voice, handsomely tall and extremely helpful, he was, to me, an epitome of admirable ‘Gentlemanliness.’ Very few whom I have met are like him. After all, it is rare to see gentlemen than beautiful ladies!
Well, we all enjoy in beauty, don’t we? Beauty is exhibited in many ways around this world. A person is beautiful for what he is, more than the ‘looks’ that he has. And of course, the oft-quoted ‘Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder’ is very applicable.
Yet, there are some ‘simply-stunning’ girls. I remember my first year in office, when there was this extremely striking girl whom I was scared of looking, for I knew that if I looked, I would surely stare! In fact, if she was within eye-sight and walking in the direction towards me, I used to lower my eyes so that I wouldn’t have to look at her. For gals like her, a discreet look from a distance only was befitting!
Ravi Shastri, once, when commenting let out a ‘Oh! Lovely!!’ when the camera focused on a beautiful girl. After a pregnant pause, he admitted “I couldn’t help that!” Fair enough! P G Wodehouse, in many of his novels describes the beauty of the girls in his novels – and the effect it has on respective heroes – in his unique, humorous manner. One such description is thus: “Some girls seem to take the stuffing right out of you. I mean to say, there is something about their personality that paralyzes the vocal chords and reduces the contents of the brain to cauliflower.” How true!
Another thing that I often relate to whenever I see a stunning girl is the scene from the hilarious movie ‘Dumb and Dumber’ when Lauren Holly opens the door to Jim Carrey. As soon as she is out of sight, due to the sheer power of beauty, Jim clutches his heart and slumps down as if he had a massive heart attack! Now, for me, that’s a perfect picturisation of…
“If looks could kill…”!
Not to be interpreted that I am currently in need of a girl for marriage considering my age and marital status, but this article was due from me for a long time. Of course, as the wise man says, beautiful girls and marriage are two separate things altogether!
A guy friend of mine (Mithun) once told a gal friend of mine (Ashwini) what simple pleasures she is missing by being a gal. He was referring to appreciating the beauty of the other gender, of deriving bountiful pleasures by just looking at girls and admiring the colour they added to an otherwise dull landscape! And Ashwini replied, quite succinctly, and with a wink in her eyes, “I only have to look at myself in the mirror!” Somehow, I felt the whole conversation to be very profound. While what Mithun said was very true, it was also equally true what Ashwini had said. Girls just have to look in the mirror and pamper themselves to feel the beauty within.
When I was in High school, where one learns a lot about Life in general and the other gender in particular, the concept of ‘eve-teasing’ and ‘rape’ always amused me. Keeping aside the fact that, of course, I strictly abhorred the two, it still was amusing because, there were a lot of girls who used to flaunt their, hmm, shall we say, ‘assets’, almost inviting to be eve-teased, to be raped, (assuming of course that ‘revenge’ is outside the scope for this chronicle). Some men, as we all know, are still very much uncultivated, true animals, and the aspect of a lady in revealing attire is as equivalent as showing blood on the hand to a shark in an open sea.
So then the question arose as to why this ‘flaunting’? My high school brain tried to figure out some answers. I then realized that there were girls who were naturally beautiful and then there were girls who were less lucky. Now, forget the beauty pageants, forget any sort of artificial beauty-enhancements, if a member of both the lucky and unlucky species were to stand, for example, in a bus-stand, needless to say, the majority of ‘men-turning-heads’ would be to the luckier of the two.
‘Men-turning-heads’, I realized, is in effect, actually a big compliment. A thing that makes anyone happy. It was like an unsaid compliment. Just an acknowledgement of beauty. While, turned heads is fulfilling, anything else further will be construed as bordering offensive. Here is where the distinction between the cultivated man and the uncultivated man lies.
While a man of culture and proper upbringing sums up a girl in a second, acknowledges the beauty and the curves, and might even turn for an appreciative second look, the uncultivated few mentally undress the girls through their eyes and make them feel vulnerable and scared. They ogle at them as if they are a delicacy to be eaten. As a means of male dominancy, they look at them as if they were servants, existing only to serve man and his basic instincts. And, to be fair to the cultivated men, it is this minority of the uncultivated few, who involve themselves in demeaning acts such as eve-teasing and rape, unable to control their desires.
Of course, the plight of the unlucky gal at the bus-stand is easily understood. No ‘men-turning-heads’ for her is a sad thing. Most gals want to attract attention sufficient enough to be appreciated. So, then comes into picture the artificial beauty-enhancers such as revealing dresses, make-up, extensive hair-do, et cetera, et cetera. Faced with such a scenario where the gal is trying her best to attract attention, and coupled with the presence of a few unruly men, the plan might backfire & its almost like mixing two important chemicals of a bomb.
Attire is an important feature of beauty. Everyone wants to look beautiful. So it makes sense to wear the perfect and fitting attire. Being in US for almost 2 years, made me realize how perfectly attired almost everyone was, barring of course, the crazy college-goers. Whether it was to office on weekdays or to malls on weekends, almost everyone is perfectly dressed for the occasion.
I had heard a catch-line that a lady’s skirt should be short enough to arouse curiosity but long enough to cover the subject matter! While it is right to be inline with the current fashion statement, it does become gross and indecent to be extra-revealing.
To be fair to male species as well, I have met some of the most handsome and dignified gentlemen one could ever come across. There was one person called Chris in the US office where I worked who tops the list. Coupled with a deep yet soft voice, handsomely tall and extremely helpful, he was, to me, an epitome of admirable ‘Gentlemanliness.’ Very few whom I have met are like him. After all, it is rare to see gentlemen than beautiful ladies!
Well, we all enjoy in beauty, don’t we? Beauty is exhibited in many ways around this world. A person is beautiful for what he is, more than the ‘looks’ that he has. And of course, the oft-quoted ‘Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder’ is very applicable.
Yet, there are some ‘simply-stunning’ girls. I remember my first year in office, when there was this extremely striking girl whom I was scared of looking, for I knew that if I looked, I would surely stare! In fact, if she was within eye-sight and walking in the direction towards me, I used to lower my eyes so that I wouldn’t have to look at her. For gals like her, a discreet look from a distance only was befitting!
Ravi Shastri, once, when commenting let out a ‘Oh! Lovely!!’ when the camera focused on a beautiful girl. After a pregnant pause, he admitted “I couldn’t help that!” Fair enough! P G Wodehouse, in many of his novels describes the beauty of the girls in his novels – and the effect it has on respective heroes – in his unique, humorous manner. One such description is thus: “Some girls seem to take the stuffing right out of you. I mean to say, there is something about their personality that paralyzes the vocal chords and reduces the contents of the brain to cauliflower.” How true!
Another thing that I often relate to whenever I see a stunning girl is the scene from the hilarious movie ‘Dumb and Dumber’ when Lauren Holly opens the door to Jim Carrey. As soon as she is out of sight, due to the sheer power of beauty, Jim clutches his heart and slumps down as if he had a massive heart attack! Now, for me, that’s a perfect picturisation of…
“If looks could kill…”!
Saturday, June 09, 2007
Me
Today, I came across a friend of mine who was my junior in engineering college. I was walking on the road, when he saw me from his car and pulled over. We had spent couple of good years in the college and it was nice to meet him after a gap of almost four years. We exchanged pleasantries, and discussed job, and whereabouts of old friends, and since I had to rush, bid adieu, emphasizing the footnote of ‘We shall meet again’, both the parties knowing only too well, that that ‘again’ wont be ever planned and if it had to happen, it would only be accidentally and perhaps after another long time, just like this encounter.
I continued my walk. It was a 2 km stretch. Such a long walk will inevitably be embellished by a myriad of thoughts. My friend, I had noticed (and complimented) was in his new Hyundai Santro, and while I was talking to him, he received a call on his cell-phone, a latest N-series Nokia mobile (which again I had complimented). Everything normal, it would seem, wouldn’t it, to excel from a nondescript mediocre college grad to a comfortable, well-built foothold professional, as is indeed the case with several other success stories of every individuals’ lives. To be fair, it was same with me too. I never expected a decade ago to be where I am currently. “Touchwood”, as they say.
However, the thing that kept bothering me at the back of my mind, as I walked on, was the luxury. While almost everyone craved for luxury, and tried to attain the higher echelons in all aspects, I was just content with what I had. Rather, more intriguingly, I felt at times, I needed less than what I currently possessed.
Take for instance the cell-phone. People of my age are competing in the rat-race to own the best-in-technology latest mobile phone, and some even going for Blackberries (and am sure will be the first ones to own the iPhone when it gets released), while I am content with my out-dated Nokia (whose model name I have forgotten) which is no longer available in the market. “I can make calls, I can receive calls and same with messages too” is my argument much to the chagrin of many who try to push me to buy a new cell.
Then, the vehicle. I can easily afford a posh 2007 Honda or a Toyota. Yet, I am content with the 1989 Maruthi 800. Again, “it takes me where I want to go” is my simple counterpoint to someone who tries to force me! In an era of jazzy motorbikes racing through the streets, I am happy with my 1996 Kinetic Honda (which needs more than a couple of kicks to start after an hour or two of idle time)! ‘Why are you like this?’ a friend of mine had asked. I truly don’t know! In fact, if I could have persisted with my parents, I could still have had my Hero bicycle! After all, nothing compares to the pure joy of cycling!
And then my watch. I am extremely happy with my 1992 Titan (even though the outer rim of the dial is just a wee bit faded). Its my favourite, and while most of them buy a watch on their first salary, I refuse to wear even the free Titan that my company gave for its billion-dollar-day celebrations, despite the watch having hundreds of functions such as global timing, multiple alarm options, timer, etc. Well, I don’t need all that. I just need to look at my watch and know instantly what the time is. I have grown so used to my old Titan that I can do just that even at the wee hours of the night despite there being no numerals on the dial.
And it doesn’t just stop there. I am not a stickler for branded apparel or shoes. If I need a shirt or a pair of trousers, I just go into the first shop that I see and buy what I like. But if I have, say, a shirt-piece, I would just go to any tailor shop and give the measurements. For me, things such as this hardly matters. An incident that is indelibly etched in my mind is when another friend of mine had told me thus, chancing once upon my wardrobe: “Harsha! I think I have to disown you as my friend!”
And when it comes to music, my only interest lies in Carnatic Classical. I am hopelessly knowledgeable on the current Western tracks or the Bollywood flicks. I cannot even make out the distinction between the different genres. Rock, metal, jazz, pop are all just words to me. Come to think of it, I am not even fully knowledgeable in Carnatic Classical!
And then, the professional life. While most of them ask me to settle down in US, change jobs for higher pay packets, all of which I could do easily enough if I try, yet, I am content with the way I am. Perhaps not satisfied with what I am doing, but no complaints whatsoever with the pay packet. Apart from a countable few, I haven’t heard anyone who doesn’t want more money, who doesn’t want to climb up the ladder of life! Perhaps I belong to the world’s smallest category of the population!
Why am I not like others? Why am I not normal? Why do I not have the same feelings and urge as the common man does? It has been often told to me by many, quite frankly, that no girl (be it arranged or love) would ever say ‘Yes’ to me. Not that I am complaining, but, hey, this is who I am, for what I am worth. Nondescript, unimportant and insignificant little man, further expounded in the ‘about me’ of my orkut profile in a simpler manner as: “I am just an ordinary guy.”
At an age when, for most, God is just a 5-minute prayer affair, I look forward to visiting religious places by the dozen. A weekly visit to the temple is a must for me. Quite understandably, I have been mocked by many for reading spiritual books. Just as I reached my house, a somewhat final parting thought came to my mind that perhaps I was a saint in my previous life. After all, only saints want less. ‘Principle of Renunciation’ (and all that).
But, it still was a puzzle. A saint has no rebirth if he has attained moksha. Then I smiled as an answering thought struck me.
Perhaps I sucked in that too!
I continued my walk. It was a 2 km stretch. Such a long walk will inevitably be embellished by a myriad of thoughts. My friend, I had noticed (and complimented) was in his new Hyundai Santro, and while I was talking to him, he received a call on his cell-phone, a latest N-series Nokia mobile (which again I had complimented). Everything normal, it would seem, wouldn’t it, to excel from a nondescript mediocre college grad to a comfortable, well-built foothold professional, as is indeed the case with several other success stories of every individuals’ lives. To be fair, it was same with me too. I never expected a decade ago to be where I am currently. “Touchwood”, as they say.
However, the thing that kept bothering me at the back of my mind, as I walked on, was the luxury. While almost everyone craved for luxury, and tried to attain the higher echelons in all aspects, I was just content with what I had. Rather, more intriguingly, I felt at times, I needed less than what I currently possessed.
Take for instance the cell-phone. People of my age are competing in the rat-race to own the best-in-technology latest mobile phone, and some even going for Blackberries (and am sure will be the first ones to own the iPhone when it gets released), while I am content with my out-dated Nokia (whose model name I have forgotten) which is no longer available in the market. “I can make calls, I can receive calls and same with messages too” is my argument much to the chagrin of many who try to push me to buy a new cell.
Then, the vehicle. I can easily afford a posh 2007 Honda or a Toyota. Yet, I am content with the 1989 Maruthi 800. Again, “it takes me where I want to go” is my simple counterpoint to someone who tries to force me! In an era of jazzy motorbikes racing through the streets, I am happy with my 1996 Kinetic Honda (which needs more than a couple of kicks to start after an hour or two of idle time)! ‘Why are you like this?’ a friend of mine had asked. I truly don’t know! In fact, if I could have persisted with my parents, I could still have had my Hero bicycle! After all, nothing compares to the pure joy of cycling!
And then my watch. I am extremely happy with my 1992 Titan (even though the outer rim of the dial is just a wee bit faded). Its my favourite, and while most of them buy a watch on their first salary, I refuse to wear even the free Titan that my company gave for its billion-dollar-day celebrations, despite the watch having hundreds of functions such as global timing, multiple alarm options, timer, etc. Well, I don’t need all that. I just need to look at my watch and know instantly what the time is. I have grown so used to my old Titan that I can do just that even at the wee hours of the night despite there being no numerals on the dial.
And it doesn’t just stop there. I am not a stickler for branded apparel or shoes. If I need a shirt or a pair of trousers, I just go into the first shop that I see and buy what I like. But if I have, say, a shirt-piece, I would just go to any tailor shop and give the measurements. For me, things such as this hardly matters. An incident that is indelibly etched in my mind is when another friend of mine had told me thus, chancing once upon my wardrobe: “Harsha! I think I have to disown you as my friend!”
And when it comes to music, my only interest lies in Carnatic Classical. I am hopelessly knowledgeable on the current Western tracks or the Bollywood flicks. I cannot even make out the distinction between the different genres. Rock, metal, jazz, pop are all just words to me. Come to think of it, I am not even fully knowledgeable in Carnatic Classical!
And then, the professional life. While most of them ask me to settle down in US, change jobs for higher pay packets, all of which I could do easily enough if I try, yet, I am content with the way I am. Perhaps not satisfied with what I am doing, but no complaints whatsoever with the pay packet. Apart from a countable few, I haven’t heard anyone who doesn’t want more money, who doesn’t want to climb up the ladder of life! Perhaps I belong to the world’s smallest category of the population!
Why am I not like others? Why am I not normal? Why do I not have the same feelings and urge as the common man does? It has been often told to me by many, quite frankly, that no girl (be it arranged or love) would ever say ‘Yes’ to me. Not that I am complaining, but, hey, this is who I am, for what I am worth. Nondescript, unimportant and insignificant little man, further expounded in the ‘about me’ of my orkut profile in a simpler manner as: “I am just an ordinary guy.”
At an age when, for most, God is just a 5-minute prayer affair, I look forward to visiting religious places by the dozen. A weekly visit to the temple is a must for me. Quite understandably, I have been mocked by many for reading spiritual books. Just as I reached my house, a somewhat final parting thought came to my mind that perhaps I was a saint in my previous life. After all, only saints want less. ‘Principle of Renunciation’ (and all that).
But, it still was a puzzle. A saint has no rebirth if he has attained moksha. Then I smiled as an answering thought struck me.
Perhaps I sucked in that too!
Saturday, June 02, 2007
Pinky!
Friendships have their own unique way of scripting a sinusoidal or tangential or sometimes even reverse exponential graph.
Divya and I met eight years ago (in 1999). She was my junior in the engineering college and we used to travel in the same college bus. She was of small stature, had a cute little face, boy-cut hair (which was somehow nice to play with!), a very unique, somewhat childish and unmatured voice but a huge amount of attitude and no-nonsense. She wasn’t one of those who would be ready to become friends instantly but instead take their own time.
Hence, in the first year of our acquaintanceship (I wouldn’t even prefer to refer it as friendship), there was a mutual respected distance between the two of us and the conversation remained within the realms of need-basis or the basic courtesies. We could be tagged as ‘Friends?’!
But Aries and Sagis have an inherent way of getting close and garnering a mutual respect some time or other. Somehow, without any particular incident causing the deflection, our acquaintanceship turned towards friendship from 2000 onwards.
And there, as ‘Just Friends’, we hovered for the next 2 years (till 2002), crossing the boundaries of just formal courtesies and pleasantries to more meaningful conversations, when finally it was time for me to graduate from college. Once out of college, at an era when email was still not so popular, we gradually lost touch of one another, and she joined the multitude which can be grouped under ‘Once Friends.’
My professional life soon led me to the States while in the meantime, she too graduated and joined a company in Mysore. A coincidental chat with a common friend in late 2005, just days before her birthday, almost three years since we lost touch, provided me her email ID.
With no hope of a positive response, I sent her a birthday wish via email. However, that single mail started off a new lease of friendship! We gained the lost ground quickly and mutually updated on happenings. Small stature she might yet have been, but she had become popular in her Mysore office. She wasn’t cute, boy-cut girl anymore but a strong contender in beauty pageants with full-flowing hair!
It soon came to be that she was to travel to West Coast of USA in the coming months. In those months, I gave her a dump of what to expect and what not to expect from the Great Land of Opportunities and mentally prepared her. It wasn’t long before she arrived and we started having long conversations over the phone about our respective days.
Now imagine that. From ‘Friends?’, to ‘Just Friends’ to ‘Once Friends’, we had reached a stage where we were calling each other daily to ask ‘How was your day?’ It sort of gave a nice feeling and we used to look forward to those conversations which led to a more intricate knowledge of each others’ personal lives and thoughts and wants, as well as the ups and downs that we both were currently facing. Crux of the topic, generally revolved around her relationship with her boyfriend which was being tested for marriage feasibilities by her family, and her own personal views about it.
The nearest we came to, geographically speaking, was in SFO when I went with my friends and she went with her cousins. But due to personal reasons, we could not meet up. Soon, however, somewhat abruptly, she had to travel back to India. I was due to go back too, in a couple of months’ time. While I went back to India, she got transferred from Mysore to Bangalore.
When you reach that stage in friendship where you have had long soulful talks for days together, you wont get into ‘Once Friends’ mode ever, in spite of not being in touch. You would have surpassed that stage wherein, even without talking to one another for years, you can meet up and start off where you had left behind. We were now in that ‘Friends Forever’ stage!
In the months that followed in India, we used to chat or talk on phone but due to personal constraints, it was limited. While it is a much desired activity in a foreign country and place, where one craves for nothing other than friends and more friends, it is not as much desired – although necessary - in one’s own home town and place, filled with family and more family!
But atlast, early this month, we met up, after almost five years. It was a pleasant feeling and we had our usual nice round of bonhomie talk! She invited me for her wedding with her boyfriend, which had finally succeeded the family battle, and I felt happy for her success. We even went for a nice short wedding shopping spree!
And today, as I stood there, near her, in the Kalyan Mantap, congratulating her marital status, she looked up at me and flashed a brilliant smile. The joy she had on seeing me and the joy I had in wishing her, was unparalleled. The blissful contentment and genuine happiness that sprouts up from within is something which even the face cannot stop from displaying as a beautiful smile. After all those days on phone, listening to her about her unsettling and undecided future, it was finally good to see her secured with the sacred wedding necklace (thaali) by the person of her choice!
Have a wonderful, fun-filled, happy married life, Pinky!
PS: This chronicle was written on May 27, 2007.
Divya and I met eight years ago (in 1999). She was my junior in the engineering college and we used to travel in the same college bus. She was of small stature, had a cute little face, boy-cut hair (which was somehow nice to play with!), a very unique, somewhat childish and unmatured voice but a huge amount of attitude and no-nonsense. She wasn’t one of those who would be ready to become friends instantly but instead take their own time.
Hence, in the first year of our acquaintanceship (I wouldn’t even prefer to refer it as friendship), there was a mutual respected distance between the two of us and the conversation remained within the realms of need-basis or the basic courtesies. We could be tagged as ‘Friends?’!
But Aries and Sagis have an inherent way of getting close and garnering a mutual respect some time or other. Somehow, without any particular incident causing the deflection, our acquaintanceship turned towards friendship from 2000 onwards.
And there, as ‘Just Friends’, we hovered for the next 2 years (till 2002), crossing the boundaries of just formal courtesies and pleasantries to more meaningful conversations, when finally it was time for me to graduate from college. Once out of college, at an era when email was still not so popular, we gradually lost touch of one another, and she joined the multitude which can be grouped under ‘Once Friends.’
My professional life soon led me to the States while in the meantime, she too graduated and joined a company in Mysore. A coincidental chat with a common friend in late 2005, just days before her birthday, almost three years since we lost touch, provided me her email ID.
With no hope of a positive response, I sent her a birthday wish via email. However, that single mail started off a new lease of friendship! We gained the lost ground quickly and mutually updated on happenings. Small stature she might yet have been, but she had become popular in her Mysore office. She wasn’t cute, boy-cut girl anymore but a strong contender in beauty pageants with full-flowing hair!
It soon came to be that she was to travel to West Coast of USA in the coming months. In those months, I gave her a dump of what to expect and what not to expect from the Great Land of Opportunities and mentally prepared her. It wasn’t long before she arrived and we started having long conversations over the phone about our respective days.
Now imagine that. From ‘Friends?’, to ‘Just Friends’ to ‘Once Friends’, we had reached a stage where we were calling each other daily to ask ‘How was your day?’ It sort of gave a nice feeling and we used to look forward to those conversations which led to a more intricate knowledge of each others’ personal lives and thoughts and wants, as well as the ups and downs that we both were currently facing. Crux of the topic, generally revolved around her relationship with her boyfriend which was being tested for marriage feasibilities by her family, and her own personal views about it.
The nearest we came to, geographically speaking, was in SFO when I went with my friends and she went with her cousins. But due to personal reasons, we could not meet up. Soon, however, somewhat abruptly, she had to travel back to India. I was due to go back too, in a couple of months’ time. While I went back to India, she got transferred from Mysore to Bangalore.
When you reach that stage in friendship where you have had long soulful talks for days together, you wont get into ‘Once Friends’ mode ever, in spite of not being in touch. You would have surpassed that stage wherein, even without talking to one another for years, you can meet up and start off where you had left behind. We were now in that ‘Friends Forever’ stage!
In the months that followed in India, we used to chat or talk on phone but due to personal constraints, it was limited. While it is a much desired activity in a foreign country and place, where one craves for nothing other than friends and more friends, it is not as much desired – although necessary - in one’s own home town and place, filled with family and more family!
But atlast, early this month, we met up, after almost five years. It was a pleasant feeling and we had our usual nice round of bonhomie talk! She invited me for her wedding with her boyfriend, which had finally succeeded the family battle, and I felt happy for her success. We even went for a nice short wedding shopping spree!
And today, as I stood there, near her, in the Kalyan Mantap, congratulating her marital status, she looked up at me and flashed a brilliant smile. The joy she had on seeing me and the joy I had in wishing her, was unparalleled. The blissful contentment and genuine happiness that sprouts up from within is something which even the face cannot stop from displaying as a beautiful smile. After all those days on phone, listening to her about her unsettling and undecided future, it was finally good to see her secured with the sacred wedding necklace (thaali) by the person of her choice!
Have a wonderful, fun-filled, happy married life, Pinky!
PS: This chronicle was written on May 27, 2007.
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Ten By Ten
It was one of those Sundays when, if you are at hometown in India, you are forced to attend a family function that is necessary yet tends to get boring. This time it was a Gruhapravesham in one of the remote areas of Bangalore that I had never before ventured till date. However, it was a nice area and a new apartment. The house itself was neat and clean.
When the rituals within the house became a trifle too monotonous, I couldn’t stand it any more. I went to the terrace. It was a big terrace, and since the apartment itself was at an elevated area, the view of the city of Bangalore was immense and, in a way, wonderful. I roamed around from one edge of the terrace to another. The zephyr was nice and refreshing. The air was clean and unpolluted.
I decided to stand on one edge of the periphery where the wind was most, and rested my arm on the parapet wall. It was to the west of the apartment, the side of the apartment where it neighboured a series of small houses, the apartment itself standing amidst them all like a colossal!
It is at times like this, when you stand doing nothing, and there is silence everywhere, and the view is breath-taking, and wind is lapping you up with the speed of the rotating and revolving Earth, that it feels like time is standing still, and somehow you feel one with the Universe, and admire humbly how small one actually is, in front of the whole world.
One tends to get contemplative at such moments. A kind of introspection starts, and questions tend to crop up about one’s employment, one’s ability, one’s actual goals and one’s wishes. There will be a bitter thought or two about the sad past, a nice warm thought about one special person, and the never-ending worries of the unknown future. It is, I guess, habitual.
So, there I was, thinking how good it would be to do what one wants to do in one’s own life, how immensely satisfying it is to carve out a life that one craves for, to break the barriers and shackles that a family tends to slowly but surely wove, to get away from the materialistic monotony, from the implicit responsibilities of a social life, when I heard a slow creaking sound below.
Its strange how a strong thought process can be broken by a soft creak! I peered down. Some two floors below, the neighbouring small house of thirty by forty had an even small enclosure of about ten by ten on its terrace. When I had first seen it, I had guessed it to be a bathroom or a common warehouse of some sort for dumping unwanted items. Now, its door was opening thereby causing the creak.
The door opened fully. A girl came out. She was dressed expensively. Sizing her up, I could make out that she was perhaps in her mid-twenties, akin to thousands of non-localites who were working in one of the innumerable call centers or software industries that had sprouted up in Bangalore over the last couple of years.
I realized, perhaps a shade late, with a shock that that ten foot by ten foot house was where she actually lived! That ramshackle, run-down, sheltered enclosure, roofed by a single sheet metal was infact a house, where apparently a human being lived and, I am sure, paid for it! Although not wholly unaware of the fact that many of my own colleagues lived in such a state, it still made my jaw drop to see it first-hand.
She seemed to be going out. She took a look inside to make sure all was in place. She might live in one of the biggest houses in some remote village, to which she might invite all her colleagues, but in Bangalore, with a hutment like that, and her apparel indicating her countenance, it is easy to surmise that she wouldn’t be so keen to have anyone seeing her rented house except her close few.
Although she would never know I was seeing her, somehow I felt guilty for taking stock of the situation. I felt like as if I was spying on her. A thought as if, if anyone gets to know where she lived, she might feel embarrassed and the last thing I wanted to do was to embarrass her.
But before I could move, she locked up her house, walked the length of the terrace, and down the steps, embarked upon her simple two-wheeler and rode away. Anyone seeing her, with her simple make-up, neat dress, trendy hair-do, and her two-wheeler, would never imagine that she lived in such a simple hutment.
Somehow, the whole thing made me go back to the rituals. I felt sorry. I felt pity. I felt sad for the innumerous many in this world who had to lead a life like this.
It dawned upon me later, that it was not just Bangalore. There were millions like this all over the world.
When the rituals within the house became a trifle too monotonous, I couldn’t stand it any more. I went to the terrace. It was a big terrace, and since the apartment itself was at an elevated area, the view of the city of Bangalore was immense and, in a way, wonderful. I roamed around from one edge of the terrace to another. The zephyr was nice and refreshing. The air was clean and unpolluted.
I decided to stand on one edge of the periphery where the wind was most, and rested my arm on the parapet wall. It was to the west of the apartment, the side of the apartment where it neighboured a series of small houses, the apartment itself standing amidst them all like a colossal!
It is at times like this, when you stand doing nothing, and there is silence everywhere, and the view is breath-taking, and wind is lapping you up with the speed of the rotating and revolving Earth, that it feels like time is standing still, and somehow you feel one with the Universe, and admire humbly how small one actually is, in front of the whole world.
One tends to get contemplative at such moments. A kind of introspection starts, and questions tend to crop up about one’s employment, one’s ability, one’s actual goals and one’s wishes. There will be a bitter thought or two about the sad past, a nice warm thought about one special person, and the never-ending worries of the unknown future. It is, I guess, habitual.
So, there I was, thinking how good it would be to do what one wants to do in one’s own life, how immensely satisfying it is to carve out a life that one craves for, to break the barriers and shackles that a family tends to slowly but surely wove, to get away from the materialistic monotony, from the implicit responsibilities of a social life, when I heard a slow creaking sound below.
Its strange how a strong thought process can be broken by a soft creak! I peered down. Some two floors below, the neighbouring small house of thirty by forty had an even small enclosure of about ten by ten on its terrace. When I had first seen it, I had guessed it to be a bathroom or a common warehouse of some sort for dumping unwanted items. Now, its door was opening thereby causing the creak.
The door opened fully. A girl came out. She was dressed expensively. Sizing her up, I could make out that she was perhaps in her mid-twenties, akin to thousands of non-localites who were working in one of the innumerable call centers or software industries that had sprouted up in Bangalore over the last couple of years.
I realized, perhaps a shade late, with a shock that that ten foot by ten foot house was where she actually lived! That ramshackle, run-down, sheltered enclosure, roofed by a single sheet metal was infact a house, where apparently a human being lived and, I am sure, paid for it! Although not wholly unaware of the fact that many of my own colleagues lived in such a state, it still made my jaw drop to see it first-hand.
She seemed to be going out. She took a look inside to make sure all was in place. She might live in one of the biggest houses in some remote village, to which she might invite all her colleagues, but in Bangalore, with a hutment like that, and her apparel indicating her countenance, it is easy to surmise that she wouldn’t be so keen to have anyone seeing her rented house except her close few.
Although she would never know I was seeing her, somehow I felt guilty for taking stock of the situation. I felt like as if I was spying on her. A thought as if, if anyone gets to know where she lived, she might feel embarrassed and the last thing I wanted to do was to embarrass her.
But before I could move, she locked up her house, walked the length of the terrace, and down the steps, embarked upon her simple two-wheeler and rode away. Anyone seeing her, with her simple make-up, neat dress, trendy hair-do, and her two-wheeler, would never imagine that she lived in such a simple hutment.
Somehow, the whole thing made me go back to the rituals. I felt sorry. I felt pity. I felt sad for the innumerous many in this world who had to lead a life like this.
It dawned upon me later, that it was not just Bangalore. There were millions like this all over the world.
The copper wire
I don’t smoke
I don’t booze
I don’t do drugs
I am a theist
I have clean habits
I am “A Beautiful Person”
And yet…
…is the copper wire rusted by the cosmic karma?!
I don’t booze
I don’t do drugs
I am a theist
I have clean habits
I am “A Beautiful Person”
And yet…
…is the copper wire rusted by the cosmic karma?!
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Illusions
There are times in life when we go about with a bunch of nagging questions for which we just cannot find answers. And then, from apparently nowhere comes this Richard Bach novel “Illusions: The adventures of a reluctant messiah” which attempts to answer those nagging questions! It is a simple yet powerful book which makes you think twice. Apart from the slow-moving fiction, there are a bunch of thought-provoking sentences provided here and there from the “Messiah’s Manual” which is somewhat amusing and curious.
Somewhere in the book, the messiah says: “Hold some problem in your mind, then open any book handy and see what it tells you. Whatever you need most is there.” This is so true. I have experienced it time and again when some thought is bothering me and I am seeking its answer, out from somewhere comes a solution that suggests a plausible explanation which somehow rests the mind!
The solution pops out from a television serial, or from someone’s action, or from a newspaper, from a source you least expect. Its like a divine intervention! And at times, its so gratifying.
Let me quote an instance. I used to see one particular devotee in a temple I visit every Thursday. Almost every Thursday I used to see the same person at the same time. And then, for about next few Thursdays, I could not see the person. And on one such Thursday, just when I was leaving the temple, I thought at the back of my mind as to why the person hadn’t come, and sure enough, even as I thought, that person materialized beside me! I was shocked beyond words! Some say its coincidence, but when situations like this occur more than once, for me, it’s a divine way of answer!
I shall reproduce here two sentences which I felt most profound from the “Messiah’s Manual”:
There is no such thing as a problem without a gift for you in its hands. You seek problems because you need their gifts.
You are never given a wish without also being given the power to make it true. You may have to work for it, however.
Somewhere in the book, the messiah says: “Hold some problem in your mind, then open any book handy and see what it tells you. Whatever you need most is there.” This is so true. I have experienced it time and again when some thought is bothering me and I am seeking its answer, out from somewhere comes a solution that suggests a plausible explanation which somehow rests the mind!
The solution pops out from a television serial, or from someone’s action, or from a newspaper, from a source you least expect. Its like a divine intervention! And at times, its so gratifying.
Let me quote an instance. I used to see one particular devotee in a temple I visit every Thursday. Almost every Thursday I used to see the same person at the same time. And then, for about next few Thursdays, I could not see the person. And on one such Thursday, just when I was leaving the temple, I thought at the back of my mind as to why the person hadn’t come, and sure enough, even as I thought, that person materialized beside me! I was shocked beyond words! Some say its coincidence, but when situations like this occur more than once, for me, it’s a divine way of answer!
I shall reproduce here two sentences which I felt most profound from the “Messiah’s Manual”:
There is no such thing as a problem without a gift for you in its hands. You seek problems because you need their gifts.
You are never given a wish without also being given the power to make it true. You may have to work for it, however.
The Good....and The Better
There was this guy in college who was a topper all through…
And then there was this other guy in college who actually learnt…
There was this guy who went to the hill-top in a cable-car…
And then there was this other guy who actually climbed…
There was this guy who was rich…
And then there was this other guy who actually was happy…
There was this guy who was on bench but was paid handsomely…
And then there was this other guy who earned meagerly but actually worked…
There was this guy who just got the accolades…
And then there was this other guy who actually deserved…
And then there was this other guy in college who actually learnt…
There was this guy who went to the hill-top in a cable-car…
And then there was this other guy who actually climbed…
There was this guy who was rich…
And then there was this other guy who actually was happy…
There was this guy who was on bench but was paid handsomely…
And then there was this other guy who earned meagerly but actually worked…
There was this guy who just got the accolades…
And then there was this other guy who actually deserved…
“Everybody is becoming rich...."
India in general and Bangalore in particular is undergoing a huge metamorphosis. It is a time when almost everybody is getting paid handsomely. The poor are moving to the category of “Middle class”. The lower middle class is moving to upper middle class. The upper middle class is moving to the category of “Rich.”
It is no wonder that there has been an enormous increase in luxurious vehicles on the road because the common man now can afford it. The jazzy bikes, the expensive cars, the latest mobile phones, ipods and other gizmos are all on the rise.
A couple of years ago, my north Indian friends working in Bangalore used to book train tickets 60 days in advance. And used to complain when they couldn’t get tickets if they didn’t book exactly 60 days in advance. Now none of my north Indian friends ever go in train. Thanks to Jet, Kingfisher and Air Deccan.
Come to think of it, very few of them ever travel in BMTC local buses. Autorickshaws or taxis are standard mode of transportation if there are no private vehicles.
Not that BMTC local buses are any cheaper. The BMTC Volvo buses, I am sure will soon ply only with Rs 50 denominations. Autorickshaws too have started charging exorbitantly, at almost about Rs 7 per kilometer, the highest in any mode of transportation. And on top of this, its double the rate, if the time is over 9:30 pm. Or if its raining.
The fast food industry has doubled its rates in a very short span of time. The land rates have tripled. In terms of properties, there doesn’t seem to be any value to anything less than 40 lakhs.
The currency is now only in denominations of Rs 10. So much so that beggars return back any coins given to them as offerings. The dakshina given to temple priests too are in huge currencies.
A decade ago when the Oberoi came to Bangalore, a coffee costed Rs 100. It was big news everywhere. Now, it’s a common thing to have a 100-buck coffee in Barista. Or something similar in Café Coffee Day.
Why not? When the upper middle class moves higher up, the lower middle class would want to move up too. Everyone wants more pay. The employee wants more pay from employer and the employer wants more pay from its clients. When there are people willing to pay more, why prefer those who cannot afford.
In the midst of all this, there are old-timers who still get the same pension in a now-practically-unlivable Bangalore who cannot even afford the maid servants. And old-timers cannot live without maid servants considering all the house-cleaning, dish-washing and clothes-washing that needs to be done in the same traditional manner. And it is then that it all made sense to me when my grandma said….
“Everybody is becoming rich....except us!”
It is no wonder that there has been an enormous increase in luxurious vehicles on the road because the common man now can afford it. The jazzy bikes, the expensive cars, the latest mobile phones, ipods and other gizmos are all on the rise.
A couple of years ago, my north Indian friends working in Bangalore used to book train tickets 60 days in advance. And used to complain when they couldn’t get tickets if they didn’t book exactly 60 days in advance. Now none of my north Indian friends ever go in train. Thanks to Jet, Kingfisher and Air Deccan.
Come to think of it, very few of them ever travel in BMTC local buses. Autorickshaws or taxis are standard mode of transportation if there are no private vehicles.
Not that BMTC local buses are any cheaper. The BMTC Volvo buses, I am sure will soon ply only with Rs 50 denominations. Autorickshaws too have started charging exorbitantly, at almost about Rs 7 per kilometer, the highest in any mode of transportation. And on top of this, its double the rate, if the time is over 9:30 pm. Or if its raining.
The fast food industry has doubled its rates in a very short span of time. The land rates have tripled. In terms of properties, there doesn’t seem to be any value to anything less than 40 lakhs.
The currency is now only in denominations of Rs 10. So much so that beggars return back any coins given to them as offerings. The dakshina given to temple priests too are in huge currencies.
A decade ago when the Oberoi came to Bangalore, a coffee costed Rs 100. It was big news everywhere. Now, it’s a common thing to have a 100-buck coffee in Barista. Or something similar in Café Coffee Day.
Why not? When the upper middle class moves higher up, the lower middle class would want to move up too. Everyone wants more pay. The employee wants more pay from employer and the employer wants more pay from its clients. When there are people willing to pay more, why prefer those who cannot afford.
In the midst of all this, there are old-timers who still get the same pension in a now-practically-unlivable Bangalore who cannot even afford the maid servants. And old-timers cannot live without maid servants considering all the house-cleaning, dish-washing and clothes-washing that needs to be done in the same traditional manner. And it is then that it all made sense to me when my grandma said….
“Everybody is becoming rich....except us!”
Monday, May 07, 2007
Exchange of eyes
It was almost 6 pm. I entered the bus-stand where a number of company buses were parked, waiting for the whistle. I was late for the bus and was walking briskly towards my bus, parked at the other end.
I had just sent out an indignant yet powerful mail to the Higher-ups. My face was set straight with masculine no-nonsense. I was still in the strong-mail-composing frame of mind. As if blaming the Higher-ups for making me miss the 5 pm bus.
My stride was purposeful and quick. Completely poised and totally in control. A small drop of perspiration appeared from nowhere on my forehead. With a brush of the thumb, I wiped it away.
At a slight angle, not directly head-on, and about twenty feet away, she was coming towards me, heading for another bus parked behind me, in the very same pace. I looked at her. She looked at me. Something happened in that look. That exchange of eyes.
I didn’t mean to stare. So I tried to look away. But it somehow took a great effort. A number of things went on in my mind. Did I know her? Did she resemble somebody I knew? An expression of amused puzzlement came over me and my stride lost its briskness. I just could not help looking back at her face. She, on the contrary, had not taken her eyes off me! She was still looking at me, directly at my eyes!
She was now about just ten feet from me. There was this sudden urge that I had to talk to her somehow, something. My stride lessened even more. Perhaps buying time for the mind to process my database and come up with some sort of a match. Perhaps buying time for her mind to process her database and come up with some sort of a match. Was she undergoing a similar conflict of emotions as me?
We passed each other. The moment passed. I did not speak to her. I mentally banged my head. I could have said anything but I said nothing. Yet, why did I want to say something to her? Especially to her alone? Why did that exchange of eyes seem so significant? Perhaps saying something would have given a clue as to who she was.
I reached my bus slowly. I sat down in the first available seat. I somehow couldn’t let go of that feeling of ‘I know her’ and ‘I know I know her!’ Perhaps I will never see her again. I tried vainly searching the bus-stand again but had no idea which bus she went into. There was this sudden void feeling. It was inexplicable.
Was she feeling the same too?
Or was I just over-reacting?
Were we related in our past lives?
Or am I reading too many spiritual novels?
I guess I will never know…
I had just sent out an indignant yet powerful mail to the Higher-ups. My face was set straight with masculine no-nonsense. I was still in the strong-mail-composing frame of mind. As if blaming the Higher-ups for making me miss the 5 pm bus.
My stride was purposeful and quick. Completely poised and totally in control. A small drop of perspiration appeared from nowhere on my forehead. With a brush of the thumb, I wiped it away.
At a slight angle, not directly head-on, and about twenty feet away, she was coming towards me, heading for another bus parked behind me, in the very same pace. I looked at her. She looked at me. Something happened in that look. That exchange of eyes.
I didn’t mean to stare. So I tried to look away. But it somehow took a great effort. A number of things went on in my mind. Did I know her? Did she resemble somebody I knew? An expression of amused puzzlement came over me and my stride lost its briskness. I just could not help looking back at her face. She, on the contrary, had not taken her eyes off me! She was still looking at me, directly at my eyes!
She was now about just ten feet from me. There was this sudden urge that I had to talk to her somehow, something. My stride lessened even more. Perhaps buying time for the mind to process my database and come up with some sort of a match. Perhaps buying time for her mind to process her database and come up with some sort of a match. Was she undergoing a similar conflict of emotions as me?
We passed each other. The moment passed. I did not speak to her. I mentally banged my head. I could have said anything but I said nothing. Yet, why did I want to say something to her? Especially to her alone? Why did that exchange of eyes seem so significant? Perhaps saying something would have given a clue as to who she was.
I reached my bus slowly. I sat down in the first available seat. I somehow couldn’t let go of that feeling of ‘I know her’ and ‘I know I know her!’ Perhaps I will never see her again. I tried vainly searching the bus-stand again but had no idea which bus she went into. There was this sudden void feeling. It was inexplicable.
Was she feeling the same too?
Or was I just over-reacting?
Were we related in our past lives?
Or am I reading too many spiritual novels?
I guess I will never know…
Rain
It had been a long time wish for me to just sit in the balcony and enjoy a beautiful rain. The wish got fulfilled today.
It never looked in the morning as if its gonna rain. With the Sun scorching since 8, it looked like we were headed for one long hot Sunday, just like any other summer day. But the clouds positioned themselves at about 4 and the soft pitter-patter of rain began.
There is always something special about rain. I mean, its all yuck when you are out there, away from home, getting drenched and splashed all over with muddy water, but when you are at home, time is 4 pm, the day is a leisurely Sunday, there is surely something nice and good about it. I guess, its like getting fresh. I mean who wouldn’t want to take bath and get clean. Its tidy and the feeling of freshness is what one craves for! Its refreshing even to see the ‘Abhisheka’ being done on the idols! Rain is like Earth taking bath, removing the sweat, dust, heat away.
The rain started lightly enough, and I was not the one who was saying ‘Rain, Rain, come again, some other day!’ I wanted it to come to its heart’s content today! I had all the time in the world! It was pure bliss to see the sheets of water coming steadily down in a straight line. A couple of times, it slanted to indicate the wind coming on, and the trees swayed dangerously too. Its fine for rain to come in all its ferocity but there is no sense in losing the meager trees we have! But thankfully, the wind wound up (!) and the rain continued its straight-line-ruler pattern!
As I sat there on the balcony, at 5 in the evening, with the rain coming on, many memories got stirred. Especially the golden era of High School during June when I used to come home at 4.30, sit in the balcony and read Hardy Boys for 2 hours straight! It used to rain in the background and I used to enjoy the adventures of Frank and Joe Hardy. There were times when I used to go to the library in the windy rain, with raincoat and umbrella just to get novels. It was a time for me when day without novel was like life without air!
There were other small things too. Like the water droplets streaming down the electric wires like current itself and finally falling down. One after the other. Continuously. Like different small streams of water rushing down the steps with great vigour, as if competing with one another. It was an absorbing scene to see a natural race. Small things in life are generally very pleasurable!
The rain meanwhile came on and on. In great measures. It had been a tough summer, with soaring temperatures and everyone blaming lack of rain, global warming, lack of water, etc. Somehow it was like Nature’s way of replying ‘You want rain? You got rain!”
The crescendo increased. Vehicles on road who were plying heretofore caring none for the rain suddenly had to stop and take shelter amidst shops. Thunder and lightning struck then, as if they had a role to play too. The rain came on even more! It was like a symphony, an orchestra, a Nature’s own theatrical play, for free and for all!
It continued for an hour or two with varying frequency. A beautiful zephyr, a blissful rain, a lazy evening – put all together, and one needs pakodas to fill the missing jigsaw of that wonderful phrase: Ethereal realm!!
And then, gradually, it calmed down. Back to its pitter-patter. But this time, it sounded like an applause. An applause for its own performance! The clouds had cleared. The Sun came out, and out came the beautiful rainbow. The magnificent kaleidoscope! Like a huge umbrella, from one end to another, as if encompassing and protecting one and all. Finally the rain came to a halt, putting end to an enthralling performance!
For a chronicler like myself, I could see words making itself visible in rain! It was blog time!
It never looked in the morning as if its gonna rain. With the Sun scorching since 8, it looked like we were headed for one long hot Sunday, just like any other summer day. But the clouds positioned themselves at about 4 and the soft pitter-patter of rain began.
There is always something special about rain. I mean, its all yuck when you are out there, away from home, getting drenched and splashed all over with muddy water, but when you are at home, time is 4 pm, the day is a leisurely Sunday, there is surely something nice and good about it. I guess, its like getting fresh. I mean who wouldn’t want to take bath and get clean. Its tidy and the feeling of freshness is what one craves for! Its refreshing even to see the ‘Abhisheka’ being done on the idols! Rain is like Earth taking bath, removing the sweat, dust, heat away.
The rain started lightly enough, and I was not the one who was saying ‘Rain, Rain, come again, some other day!’ I wanted it to come to its heart’s content today! I had all the time in the world! It was pure bliss to see the sheets of water coming steadily down in a straight line. A couple of times, it slanted to indicate the wind coming on, and the trees swayed dangerously too. Its fine for rain to come in all its ferocity but there is no sense in losing the meager trees we have! But thankfully, the wind wound up (!) and the rain continued its straight-line-ruler pattern!
As I sat there on the balcony, at 5 in the evening, with the rain coming on, many memories got stirred. Especially the golden era of High School during June when I used to come home at 4.30, sit in the balcony and read Hardy Boys for 2 hours straight! It used to rain in the background and I used to enjoy the adventures of Frank and Joe Hardy. There were times when I used to go to the library in the windy rain, with raincoat and umbrella just to get novels. It was a time for me when day without novel was like life without air!
There were other small things too. Like the water droplets streaming down the electric wires like current itself and finally falling down. One after the other. Continuously. Like different small streams of water rushing down the steps with great vigour, as if competing with one another. It was an absorbing scene to see a natural race. Small things in life are generally very pleasurable!
The rain meanwhile came on and on. In great measures. It had been a tough summer, with soaring temperatures and everyone blaming lack of rain, global warming, lack of water, etc. Somehow it was like Nature’s way of replying ‘You want rain? You got rain!”
The crescendo increased. Vehicles on road who were plying heretofore caring none for the rain suddenly had to stop and take shelter amidst shops. Thunder and lightning struck then, as if they had a role to play too. The rain came on even more! It was like a symphony, an orchestra, a Nature’s own theatrical play, for free and for all!
It continued for an hour or two with varying frequency. A beautiful zephyr, a blissful rain, a lazy evening – put all together, and one needs pakodas to fill the missing jigsaw of that wonderful phrase: Ethereal realm!!
And then, gradually, it calmed down. Back to its pitter-patter. But this time, it sounded like an applause. An applause for its own performance! The clouds had cleared. The Sun came out, and out came the beautiful rainbow. The magnificent kaleidoscope! Like a huge umbrella, from one end to another, as if encompassing and protecting one and all. Finally the rain came to a halt, putting end to an enthralling performance!
For a chronicler like myself, I could see words making itself visible in rain! It was blog time!
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
One man : One woman ?
The dusk was embracing the evening sky like a monster devouring the Sun. The coward Sun seemed to be running away, knowing its time had come for the day. Although there was an undercurrent of the impending darkness, the battlefield was devoid of bloodshed. Rather, it was an easel of the artist’s wand. The sky was filled with untitled colours bringing joy to the Lucky Un-blinds. A splish of the dark amoebic clouds. A splash of the bright teddy bears. A splosh of the grayish streak. The chirping, symmetrical birds. The dazzling silver lining. The lost grounds of the dark East and the still-fighting Orange-ish West. A serene picture of Nature leading its own unnoticed life. Unnoticed except of course by me. From the terrace.
The terrace is one of my favourite spots. It’s the only place where I can relate to the expansive Nature and Universe. It shuts out the materialistic belongings and the family strings. It is like being with the Divine. I talk and no one talks back! The silence all around transcends the atmosphere into one that of an ethereal realm.
Ethereal realm. Now that’s a good phrase. First four letters of the succeeding word are the last four letters of the preceding word. Describing a catchy phrase itself often becomes a catchy rhyme. Catchy rhymes reminds me of the Calvin & Hobbes jokes I heard today. Calvin: “What if somebody calls us ‘A pair of pathetic peripatetics’?!” Hobbes is stupefied for a moment and then replies: “I have never heard of anyone taking the trouble to rhyme weird insults!!” Damn funny!
I placed myself on a stone block and locked my knees together and continued to gaze at the sky. The weather was getting perplexed with the departure of the Sun. It knows neither to torch the sunny heat nor to spread the fingers of the chilly night. The slight zephyr comes to its rescue. For a moment, there is nothing going on in my mind. It is just blank. A mattress of nothingness.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, comes the thought of a conversation I had with a friend recently. We were discussing Mr and Mrs Iyer. Invariably, whenever one discusses this movie, the topic always goes to ‘That scene in the train.’ It is without doubt one of the moving scenes a film patron can ever see on the tinsel screen. They HAVE TO kiss. How can they not kiss? It seems so so right for them to kiss. It is inappropriate and incomplete and incorrect for them not to kiss!! And yet they do not.
Why is it inappropriate for anyone to like more than one person at a given point of time? And even if it is not inappropriate, why is it inappropriate to display affection? Is it a rule to love just one person? What is love? Why would there be a feeling of jealousy? Possessiveness? To love someone else also is to be betrayed? Betrayed of what? Trust? But the only reason the affair with the third person was kept in wraps is to stop the feeling of jealousy. Surely not to betray trust. It all gets complicated.
Perhaps its just a matter of ethics. Yet one cannot help what one feels. Many of my friends had affairs other than those with just their boyfriends. They are truly perplexed why they liked two people at the same time. And yet, they really did like. Each was special in his own way. Legally incorrect? Ethically wrong? Medically dangerous? Some things of the heart just cannot be explained. Ultimately they were forced to choose one. However difficult it was.
Perhaps this train of thought led to the invention of polygamy and polyandry policies. Words of ridicule in school but actually heavy. Not that I am talking about relationships of the West where the flesh matters more than the heart.
One man : one woman. That remains the legal, happy and easy policy but yet there are cases all around where the quirk of the heart beats all unemotional policies. Policies which state that liking someone else in heart other than your husband is a crime. Looks good on paper. But that’s all.
Lord Rama suspected Sita during her stay in Lanka. Or did he just want to prove to people that his wife was purity personified? Either way, I always have it against him that he shouldn’t have asked Sita to enter the pyre. Asking wife to sit on fire just to prove her chastity is ungodliness. It’s a character that I somehow cannot bring myself to respect. Somewhat akin to Lord Krishna convincing Arjuna to kill his own Master. Now what kind of a Godly character is that! To encourage killing one's own guru! My mind boggles!!
But, reining the mind back, the world gender ratio is hardly at one man : one woman. The males are more than females. Whats the upshot? Some men are finding it harder and harder to find girls. Especially sons of farmers in the villages, continuing the tradition of farming, and not lured by the fortunes of the big cities. Girls in villages do not want village guys when there are eligible village guys who have gone abroad and earning heavily. After all, who does not want riches? Who wants to be the wife of a farmer when one can roam around in posh cars across the continent with a dab of the best perfume?
At the same time, if all the sons of farmers immigrate to the big cities, be it for riches or for, subsequently, girls, then what happens to farming? Agriculture? Now that’s a global issue! A time has come when the sons of farmers are desperately giving money to get girls as daughters-in-law. There has been a complete reversal of roles. Vadhu-dakshina is more prominent now than Vara-dakshina. The dowry given by the groom.
A mosquito bite brings me back from my thoughts. So small a fly yet so powerful. And so annoying. A small lump comes on my skin and I try to run it off unnecessarily. A futile attempt. Yet, it is somehow needed. Very much needed. There are things in this world which we do and keep doing, although we know it is futile. Just to be satisfied.
The darkness now had enveloped completely. The stars were trying to peep through the bright streetlights. ‘Constellation’ becomes a mere word in cities. Like ‘siblings’, if people adopt the new trend of ‘just one kid.’ Blame it on ‘cost of living.’
And so, my thoughts go on and on, carving its own solitudinal soliloquy when suddenly from out of nowhere, my mom calls “Harsha!” That one word, with its associated frequency and volume implies that dinner is ready and that I have been dreaming for a long time and that I need to go down.
And so I will. Tata.
The terrace is one of my favourite spots. It’s the only place where I can relate to the expansive Nature and Universe. It shuts out the materialistic belongings and the family strings. It is like being with the Divine. I talk and no one talks back! The silence all around transcends the atmosphere into one that of an ethereal realm.
Ethereal realm. Now that’s a good phrase. First four letters of the succeeding word are the last four letters of the preceding word. Describing a catchy phrase itself often becomes a catchy rhyme. Catchy rhymes reminds me of the Calvin & Hobbes jokes I heard today. Calvin: “What if somebody calls us ‘A pair of pathetic peripatetics’?!” Hobbes is stupefied for a moment and then replies: “I have never heard of anyone taking the trouble to rhyme weird insults!!” Damn funny!
I placed myself on a stone block and locked my knees together and continued to gaze at the sky. The weather was getting perplexed with the departure of the Sun. It knows neither to torch the sunny heat nor to spread the fingers of the chilly night. The slight zephyr comes to its rescue. For a moment, there is nothing going on in my mind. It is just blank. A mattress of nothingness.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, comes the thought of a conversation I had with a friend recently. We were discussing Mr and Mrs Iyer. Invariably, whenever one discusses this movie, the topic always goes to ‘That scene in the train.’ It is without doubt one of the moving scenes a film patron can ever see on the tinsel screen. They HAVE TO kiss. How can they not kiss? It seems so so right for them to kiss. It is inappropriate and incomplete and incorrect for them not to kiss!! And yet they do not.
Why is it inappropriate for anyone to like more than one person at a given point of time? And even if it is not inappropriate, why is it inappropriate to display affection? Is it a rule to love just one person? What is love? Why would there be a feeling of jealousy? Possessiveness? To love someone else also is to be betrayed? Betrayed of what? Trust? But the only reason the affair with the third person was kept in wraps is to stop the feeling of jealousy. Surely not to betray trust. It all gets complicated.
Perhaps its just a matter of ethics. Yet one cannot help what one feels. Many of my friends had affairs other than those with just their boyfriends. They are truly perplexed why they liked two people at the same time. And yet, they really did like. Each was special in his own way. Legally incorrect? Ethically wrong? Medically dangerous? Some things of the heart just cannot be explained. Ultimately they were forced to choose one. However difficult it was.
Perhaps this train of thought led to the invention of polygamy and polyandry policies. Words of ridicule in school but actually heavy. Not that I am talking about relationships of the West where the flesh matters more than the heart.
One man : one woman. That remains the legal, happy and easy policy but yet there are cases all around where the quirk of the heart beats all unemotional policies. Policies which state that liking someone else in heart other than your husband is a crime. Looks good on paper. But that’s all.
Lord Rama suspected Sita during her stay in Lanka. Or did he just want to prove to people that his wife was purity personified? Either way, I always have it against him that he shouldn’t have asked Sita to enter the pyre. Asking wife to sit on fire just to prove her chastity is ungodliness. It’s a character that I somehow cannot bring myself to respect. Somewhat akin to Lord Krishna convincing Arjuna to kill his own Master. Now what kind of a Godly character is that! To encourage killing one's own guru! My mind boggles!!
But, reining the mind back, the world gender ratio is hardly at one man : one woman. The males are more than females. Whats the upshot? Some men are finding it harder and harder to find girls. Especially sons of farmers in the villages, continuing the tradition of farming, and not lured by the fortunes of the big cities. Girls in villages do not want village guys when there are eligible village guys who have gone abroad and earning heavily. After all, who does not want riches? Who wants to be the wife of a farmer when one can roam around in posh cars across the continent with a dab of the best perfume?
At the same time, if all the sons of farmers immigrate to the big cities, be it for riches or for, subsequently, girls, then what happens to farming? Agriculture? Now that’s a global issue! A time has come when the sons of farmers are desperately giving money to get girls as daughters-in-law. There has been a complete reversal of roles. Vadhu-dakshina is more prominent now than Vara-dakshina. The dowry given by the groom.
A mosquito bite brings me back from my thoughts. So small a fly yet so powerful. And so annoying. A small lump comes on my skin and I try to run it off unnecessarily. A futile attempt. Yet, it is somehow needed. Very much needed. There are things in this world which we do and keep doing, although we know it is futile. Just to be satisfied.
The darkness now had enveloped completely. The stars were trying to peep through the bright streetlights. ‘Constellation’ becomes a mere word in cities. Like ‘siblings’, if people adopt the new trend of ‘just one kid.’ Blame it on ‘cost of living.’
And so, my thoughts go on and on, carving its own solitudinal soliloquy when suddenly from out of nowhere, my mom calls “Harsha!” That one word, with its associated frequency and volume implies that dinner is ready and that I have been dreaming for a long time and that I need to go down.
And so I will. Tata.
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