I am a Kannadiga in Bangalore.
Otherwise.
I am an Indian in United States of America.
Either way, I belong to the minority.
:-(
Thursday, August 04, 2011
Thursday, July 21, 2011
No Dodds & No Chikks
Father’s elder brother(s) are called Doddappa(s) in Kannada. Figuratively this means Senior Dad(s).
Father’s younger brother(s) are called Chikkappa(s) in Kannada. Figuratively this means Junior Dad(s).
Mother’s elder sister(s) are called Doddamma(s) in Kannada. Figuratively this means Senior Mom(s).
Mother’s younger sister(s) are called Chikkamma(s) in Kannada. Figuratively this means Junior Mom(s).
My father has 3 sisters.
My mother has 3 brothers.
Which means.
I have neither Senior Dad nor Junior Dad.
I have neither Senior Mom nor Junior Mom.
I have only one Main Dad and one Main Mom.
Oh Man.
Father’s younger brother(s) are called Chikkappa(s) in Kannada. Figuratively this means Junior Dad(s).
Mother’s elder sister(s) are called Doddamma(s) in Kannada. Figuratively this means Senior Mom(s).
Mother’s younger sister(s) are called Chikkamma(s) in Kannada. Figuratively this means Junior Mom(s).
My father has 3 sisters.
My mother has 3 brothers.
Which means.
I have neither Senior Dad nor Junior Dad.
I have neither Senior Mom nor Junior Mom.
I have only one Main Dad and one Main Mom.
Oh Man.
Monday, June 20, 2011
Laceless
I got a laceless formal shoes on my wedding in 2008.
I got a laceless strap-on sneakers in 2009.
The 2008 shoes wore out and being now addicted to laceless, got one more in 2010.
Which means, I just realized, for the last 2 years, I have not tied lace!
My! Laceless is such a relief! Why did I not try before!!
PS: This thought occurred when I saw a man tying his lace in the pavement.
I got a laceless strap-on sneakers in 2009.
The 2008 shoes wore out and being now addicted to laceless, got one more in 2010.
Which means, I just realized, for the last 2 years, I have not tied lace!
My! Laceless is such a relief! Why did I not try before!!
PS: This thought occurred when I saw a man tying his lace in the pavement.
Sunday, June 05, 2011
Jondig
I was walking in the busy tunnel at Downtown Crossing in Boston to catch the Red Line subway train to South Station when I noticed a cockroach on the wall. Such a sight is very uncommon and it attracted a lot of attention. I was amused by its presence but kept walking. At about the same time, I saw an American lady walking in the opposite direction and she too noticed the cockroach. Her reaction was noteworthy.
She stopped in her tracks, pointed to the cockroach and made an ugly face. She said something like ‘Ugh’ and finally, after exhausting all her reactions to the innocent animal, continued on.
I could not help remembering my after-dinner 10 pm walks with my pregnant wife in my hometown in Bangalore. My wife who calls cockroaches as Jondgya (due to which I call them as Jondig, just for fun!) has a very alert eye for such pests and jumps at the very sight of it. Many a time, we had to see twice before stepping to ensure we were not squashing any crawling cockroaches on the road. They were that many in number. Some even used to fly around causing that much more thrill in a simple boring activity like walking.
Anyway, as I saw my Red Line train approaching, I could not decide what was more amusing. The cockroach or the lady’s reactions. Or the lady’s reaction if ever she took an after-dinner 10 pm walk in Bangalore.
She stopped in her tracks, pointed to the cockroach and made an ugly face. She said something like ‘Ugh’ and finally, after exhausting all her reactions to the innocent animal, continued on.
I could not help remembering my after-dinner 10 pm walks with my pregnant wife in my hometown in Bangalore. My wife who calls cockroaches as Jondgya (due to which I call them as Jondig, just for fun!) has a very alert eye for such pests and jumps at the very sight of it. Many a time, we had to see twice before stepping to ensure we were not squashing any crawling cockroaches on the road. They were that many in number. Some even used to fly around causing that much more thrill in a simple boring activity like walking.
Anyway, as I saw my Red Line train approaching, I could not decide what was more amusing. The cockroach or the lady’s reactions. Or the lady’s reaction if ever she took an after-dinner 10 pm walk in Bangalore.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Shri Venkateshwara Suprabhatam
Late 1980s. Time: 8 am in the morning. Place: Bangalore, India. Summer holidays. Me –a school-going boy - drowsily sleeping in the makeshift mattress placed in the middle of small living room. I could hear my maternal grandma in the kitchen, busy cooking breakfast for the entire household. She would have been already 3 hours into the day. I could hear my grandpa vigorously moving – he would have called it ‘exercising’ - his oiled body before heading to bath. Somebody else in the household would be busy sweeping the house. I knew that I will be woken up soon and the makeshift mattress had to be folded too so as to complete the sweeping process. Amdist all these, M S Subbulakshmi chanted the celebrated Shri Venkateshwara Suprabhatam in the dilapidated tape recorder.
I liked the setting.
I liked Subbulakshmi’s rendition of the Suprabhatam.
Mid 2011. Time: 8 am in the morning. Place: Boston, USA. Summer. Me - a 31-year-old employee in a prestigious firm - walking on Federal Street in crisp blue blazer and Raymonds trouser, amongst hundred other people in equally if not better attire. Some are running to catch the connecting transport - be it bus or train. Some are tourists – carrying in their hands Boston map and tourist guide, drinking in the history all around them. Positive energy all around, strangers smiling at one another and commenting on what a fine day it is. Tall buildings on either side of the street making a canopy of comfortable shadow. The breeze from the Atlantic Ocean causing a tingling but nice chill. In my ears are the headphones from ipod. M S Subbulakshmi chanting the same celebrated Shri Venkateshwara Suprabhatam.
I liked this setting too.
I still liked Subbulakshmi’s rendition of the Suprabhatam.
Some things change so drastically.
Some things never change.
I liked the setting.
I liked Subbulakshmi’s rendition of the Suprabhatam.
Mid 2011. Time: 8 am in the morning. Place: Boston, USA. Summer. Me - a 31-year-old employee in a prestigious firm - walking on Federal Street in crisp blue blazer and Raymonds trouser, amongst hundred other people in equally if not better attire. Some are running to catch the connecting transport - be it bus or train. Some are tourists – carrying in their hands Boston map and tourist guide, drinking in the history all around them. Positive energy all around, strangers smiling at one another and commenting on what a fine day it is. Tall buildings on either side of the street making a canopy of comfortable shadow. The breeze from the Atlantic Ocean causing a tingling but nice chill. In my ears are the headphones from ipod. M S Subbulakshmi chanting the same celebrated Shri Venkateshwara Suprabhatam.
I liked this setting too.
I still liked Subbulakshmi’s rendition of the Suprabhatam.
Some things change so drastically.
Some things never change.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Bundle of Joy
‘Bundle of Joy’ is the right phrase for a baby. For they bring much joy and make life an endearing prospect. I guess even at the very end of life, when one has almost renounced all worldly pleasures, a baby brings so much joy into the spectrum of life that one does not want to get out of the life and death cycle.
Paavani is now 7 months old and she is very much a bundle of joy. She spreads happiness everywhere she goes. Her very presence made people walk up the stairs to our house in Bangalore when before not many relatives ventured. Decade long neighbors visited us for the first time just to see her. When we used to take her for walks in the road, people used to stop us and talk to her. Strangers in the road started smiling at her. Some even commented on her cute appearance.
It is fascinating how an infant can change the face of the world. Without Paavani, the world was different altogether. Neighbors were just there to be smiled at, strangers remained strangers, relatives remained far and so on and so forth.
Whenever Paavani is with her great grandparents, there is much joy in their lives. As my grandma points out, she and her hubby will be in a big argument and shouting at one another – which she says is a daily affair after one is married to a person for 70 years – but the moment they see Paavani being brought in, their fight will melt away and both start instantaneously enjoying the precious moment with her by cuddling her and cooing with her to which she responds with grateful bursts of joy much to their delight.
When the time came for me to leave to US, I was feeling a little sorry to be taking the joy out of so many lives. When relatives came to know of the departure, their first reaction was to repent the fact that Paavani will not be amongst them. It was as if the news broke their hearts. I felt like giving a toy (Paavani) to a child (relatives) and taking the toy away. It is amazing what infants can do. It can turn a strict septuagenarian into an imitation elephant (on all fours), it can turn a lethargic octogenarian into an enthusiastic superwoman and a nonagenarian into a dancing doll.
Once in US, the human interactions which Paavani had as compared to before have lessened. She can now only connect to her septua-, octo- and nona-genarian friends only through electronic medium – a microcosm of being physically with the person. Alas, nothing much can be done about that but appreciate technology for allowing at least this microcosmic interaction.
However, a walk in the streets of US brings its own set of joy to fellow pedestrians. People here are far more expressive about their compliments and appreciations than in India. Many a time, we have been stopped and told how beautiful or how pretty or how cute she looks. We have to go through the entire routine of telling her name, her age and thanking on her behalf for all her own compliments.
Our neighbor in US was so full of words upon seeing her that she said she wanted to clone her. She mentioned that Paavani (she pronounced it right) is the cutest person she had ever seen and how much of a doll she resembled. Of course, the ear ring and the anklet add more to the conversation and prettiness.
As a parent, it feels nice to hear this. It feels nice to bring smiles into lives. It feels nice to make this world a better place of smiling individuals. To an extent, this even reduces the guilt of taking the joy out of some Bangaloreans:
After all, even folks in US need some joy! :-)
Paavani is now 7 months old and she is very much a bundle of joy. She spreads happiness everywhere she goes. Her very presence made people walk up the stairs to our house in Bangalore when before not many relatives ventured. Decade long neighbors visited us for the first time just to see her. When we used to take her for walks in the road, people used to stop us and talk to her. Strangers in the road started smiling at her. Some even commented on her cute appearance.
It is fascinating how an infant can change the face of the world. Without Paavani, the world was different altogether. Neighbors were just there to be smiled at, strangers remained strangers, relatives remained far and so on and so forth.
Whenever Paavani is with her great grandparents, there is much joy in their lives. As my grandma points out, she and her hubby will be in a big argument and shouting at one another – which she says is a daily affair after one is married to a person for 70 years – but the moment they see Paavani being brought in, their fight will melt away and both start instantaneously enjoying the precious moment with her by cuddling her and cooing with her to which she responds with grateful bursts of joy much to their delight.
When the time came for me to leave to US, I was feeling a little sorry to be taking the joy out of so many lives. When relatives came to know of the departure, their first reaction was to repent the fact that Paavani will not be amongst them. It was as if the news broke their hearts. I felt like giving a toy (Paavani) to a child (relatives) and taking the toy away. It is amazing what infants can do. It can turn a strict septuagenarian into an imitation elephant (on all fours), it can turn a lethargic octogenarian into an enthusiastic superwoman and a nonagenarian into a dancing doll.
Once in US, the human interactions which Paavani had as compared to before have lessened. She can now only connect to her septua-, octo- and nona-genarian friends only through electronic medium – a microcosm of being physically with the person. Alas, nothing much can be done about that but appreciate technology for allowing at least this microcosmic interaction.
However, a walk in the streets of US brings its own set of joy to fellow pedestrians. People here are far more expressive about their compliments and appreciations than in India. Many a time, we have been stopped and told how beautiful or how pretty or how cute she looks. We have to go through the entire routine of telling her name, her age and thanking on her behalf for all her own compliments.
Our neighbor in US was so full of words upon seeing her that she said she wanted to clone her. She mentioned that Paavani (she pronounced it right) is the cutest person she had ever seen and how much of a doll she resembled. Of course, the ear ring and the anklet add more to the conversation and prettiness.
As a parent, it feels nice to hear this. It feels nice to bring smiles into lives. It feels nice to make this world a better place of smiling individuals. To an extent, this even reduces the guilt of taking the joy out of some Bangaloreans:
After all, even folks in US need some joy! :-)
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Duration in USA
Myth: For some reason, perhaps because I have traveled four times, it is a myth amongst many who know me that I have been in USA for about 4-5 years.
Fact: My total stay in US, as of today, is 2 years and 5 months.
Fact: My total stay in US, as of today, is 2 years and 5 months.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
America: Fourth Innings
Its been 8 working days in US for me, and I was involved in 6 installs - with one of them being an emergency production ticket!
I hope this is not a sign of things to come…
I hope this is not a sign of things to come…
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
500
I was more of a novel writer in the mid 1990s. In fact, I have written 2 novels (the Hardy Boys type) on paper in an unintelligible handwriting so typical of the teenage boy. On the advice of my High School English teacher, I started thinking on the lines of short stories and smaller articles suited for newspaper publications.
It was strangely difficult to adapt to the shorter version after writing 150+ page novels. But once I got the hang of it, I started enjoying it (but I lost the novel-writing skill on the way). Couple of them got published too in the national newspaper. But it was hard work to get it published.
To not see the article after multiple follow-ups was disheartening. And those that did get published had been edited the way I did not want them to. All this was very disappointing. It was very typical of an author on the doorsteps of a publisher. So I ended up writing what came to my head in pieces of paper and stopped bothering about asking newspapers to publish.
Blogspot – which was free! – came like a haven for freedom of thought and penmanship. No more begging, no more follow-ups, no more edits – just pure unadulterated content exactly the way I want it.
The first post on this blog was on March 21st 2006. This is the 500th post which has come after 5 years and a month. On the way, seven more blogs were born under the same banner which specialized in a theme of its own. In all, there are now 1118 posts across all blogs.
The idea of seeing my own words on the internet the way I want it gives me joy. I can reminisce on the years gone by, by going through my posts, by re-living my own life and musings. It gives an outlet for my thoughts and adds meaning to my life. It stays on even when I have departed.
It may not be much, but for me, it is an achievement.
It was strangely difficult to adapt to the shorter version after writing 150+ page novels. But once I got the hang of it, I started enjoying it (but I lost the novel-writing skill on the way). Couple of them got published too in the national newspaper. But it was hard work to get it published.
To not see the article after multiple follow-ups was disheartening. And those that did get published had been edited the way I did not want them to. All this was very disappointing. It was very typical of an author on the doorsteps of a publisher. So I ended up writing what came to my head in pieces of paper and stopped bothering about asking newspapers to publish.
Blogspot – which was free! – came like a haven for freedom of thought and penmanship. No more begging, no more follow-ups, no more edits – just pure unadulterated content exactly the way I want it.
The first post on this blog was on March 21st 2006. This is the 500th post which has come after 5 years and a month. On the way, seven more blogs were born under the same banner which specialized in a theme of its own. In all, there are now 1118 posts across all blogs.
The idea of seeing my own words on the internet the way I want it gives me joy. I can reminisce on the years gone by, by going through my posts, by re-living my own life and musings. It gives an outlet for my thoughts and adds meaning to my life. It stays on even when I have departed.
It may not be much, but for me, it is an achievement.
The sad state of human affairs
"I wish I was never born in my parent's house."
The above remark from a female friend of mine caused me to think.
Parents undergo a lot to bring up their children. Initially, the children are totally dependent on the parents and bask in their love. As children grow from tiny tots to teenage, a shift in the love quotient occurs and parents are no longer the favoured best. Job gives a heretofore unknown independence. Money and location of work further distances the parents. Marriage brings in a totally different wave of life-issues - for both parents and the new entrant. Its almost like a tsunami :-)
On the other side of the spectrum, while their children get married and have kids of their own, parents are ageing and would like more to be with children for support and grandchildren for basking in forgotten child's love. Pitfalls occur. Spouses die. Children neither near nor want to be near. Grandchildren do not recognise you. Finally its time to bid adieu.
And then the participants change in this life cycle. Children become parents. Grandchildren become children. And the whole gamut of human emotions come into play once more. And so, life goes on and on and on...
Pretty sad state of human affairs, actually.
The above remark from a female friend of mine caused me to think.
Parents undergo a lot to bring up their children. Initially, the children are totally dependent on the parents and bask in their love. As children grow from tiny tots to teenage, a shift in the love quotient occurs and parents are no longer the favoured best. Job gives a heretofore unknown independence. Money and location of work further distances the parents. Marriage brings in a totally different wave of life-issues - for both parents and the new entrant. Its almost like a tsunami :-)
On the other side of the spectrum, while their children get married and have kids of their own, parents are ageing and would like more to be with children for support and grandchildren for basking in forgotten child's love. Pitfalls occur. Spouses die. Children neither near nor want to be near. Grandchildren do not recognise you. Finally its time to bid adieu.
And then the participants change in this life cycle. Children become parents. Grandchildren become children. And the whole gamut of human emotions come into play once more. And so, life goes on and on and on...
Pretty sad state of human affairs, actually.
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