Nirvana

In time, i’ve come to realise that planning doesn’t work. Especially when you’re planning a get away with friends. Saturday afternoon boredom and frustration lead to plans being made at lightning speed. By 5, K and I were on our way to a much sought after, if I may add, high profile resort on the outskirts of the city. Long drive, good music and great company! The day ended beautifully on the beach. I dreamt of waves splashing, sand castles, fishing nets and moonlight in my sleep.
The best was yet to come. After some catalog browsing, the next morning, we narrowed down on a catamaran ride. Other than its oft quoted etymology, i knew little else of what it involved. Have you seen that song with Trisha and super cute Siddarth in AE or the one with Kareena and Vivek? With the image in place in my head, i talked K into it. She can’t swim and neither can I. Isn’t that why people wear life jackets. We decided to do it.
The sand was just warming up but the water was still deliciously cold. But i couldn’t even begin to imagine what it might be like to be in the middle of the ocean. A speck in the vast blue blanket that engulfed my line of sight. Swimming pools somehow never look like that however vast and however blue the floor is. The sun is always partial to the sea. She always shines in her glowing gaze. The beach is romantic at night but the sea looks her best in sunlight.
The catamaran took us about a kilometer and half into the sea. We stood holding a not so thick rope as the motor was switched on and we zoomed our way through. My hair was flying, my glasses threatened to jump into the sea and water was spraying in my eyes. We were moving farther away from the coast. The screaming in my head started. It wasn’t the panic scream though. More like, i can’t get enough of this woo hoo. The blue just got brighter and more seductive. The motor’s roar died down and the guy asked us to jump in! Jump we did not but after a minutes hesitation, we slid off the catamaran. We were in the middle of the sea. Well, not really but far enough to disillusion us. We held on to the same dear rope to keep us bobbing along with the catamaran. And then the madness was unleashed. I’ve never spoken so many disjointed sentences. Just sheer bliss. All I could see was the same blue sheet that loving wooed we a few minutes ago. There was water in my nose, eyes, ears and mouth. But we were laughing nonstop! Singing cheesy songs in the sea, just managing to keep my head above the water is not something i imagined i would do. When the cynicism took over, i made a effort to turn back and make sure the catamaran was still there. Oh and also that the shore still existed. Somewhere in all this madness, laughter, excitement, fun, doubt, fear and bobbing, there was a moment of Nirvana. I felt at peace with myself after a long time.

I’ve been using the word random way too often in the last few days. I guess its also got to do with the fact that its probably the most apt description for what I do/think/feel/write these days. I do random stuff.

When I tell people I’m unemployed, I get two standard reactions. One, “Oh my God! I wish I could just sit at home and not do anything.” Two, “Oh, so what do you do the whole day??” Actually, sitting at home is not so different from working. As in, I still spend most of my time on Reader and youtube. Other than of course, being eternally broke and living on a shoestring budget. There are a few days when I get bored doing “random” stuff, but for the most part, I’ve been keeping fairly busy.

I feel socially more active this way. I’ve reacquainted myself with our maid, ironwallah, nosey neighbors and water delivery boy. I’m totally up to date on all the family gossip which I otherwise used to be briefed about during the long Sunday phone call. By virtue of being vetti, I’m once again filling in as the chauffeur when my grandma wants to visit her family, that is, her aunt, uncle, sister et al. I even went for a 70 year old maami’s birthday party and sang Happy Birthday to you and dutifully stood in line albeit right at the end when they asked all the kids to line up for a bite of the (eggless) birthday cake. My cousin wants me to help him cover his new books with brown paper and put labels on them. I could also take him uniform, school bag, school shoe shopping and buy him panipuri on the way back, he says.

At least, I can come home and crash without worrying about a bitchy landlord or the next meal. I’m not complaining!

Wearing our pride on our sleeves

Its hot in Madras now. Spending an entire day out in the sun, without water to quench your thirst is a kind of torture that can be included in the law as a form of punishment for rapists and killers. In all this, the dress code mania demands that everyone wears proper salwar kameez with dupatta (if you’re a girl, of course), and the men wear formal full sleeved shirts. Or if you’re in college, a Tshirt or a shirt that covers your back pocket. (We will still refuse say the “word”). I understand the office goers sit indoors most of the day in an office that has AC running in full blast. But what happens when they get out? If you were lucky enough to be in a college like mine, you at least have the shades of the lovely trees to make the torture seem less painful.

According to the Times of India survey (that came out on 14th of April), 32% percent of people in Madras find wearing sleeveless offensive. Hmmm.. I just have one question, its ok to wear really small, almost non-existent sleeves but our pride lies in that extra 3 inches of cloth that cover the upper portion of the arm? Or is it the armhole that’s offensive? What about our ancestors who never wore blouses? Actually, our traditional attire didn’t require us to be covered from head to toe. Cos they understood that it was too much to ask for in a hot city! A disclaimer seems necessary now. I’m not advocating skimpy clothes. If you want to wear an airy sleeveless shirt, you must be able to without worrying about the self-designated moral police brigade that seems to be abundant in the city.

This first issue’s survey made Madras sound like a overgrown village, which seems to be a popular opinion. I’m not pitching for Madras to be voted the most happening place in the next survey. I understand the heat can throw you off track and disillusion you, but don’t lose hope! Its only April now, and May will be worse. By the end of May, you will not be concerned about anything other than the making sure you always have at least a fan running above your head. We’ll talk about this then!

Woodlands is closing down!

Apparently, Woodlands drive-in is closing down! Its a place I’ve been going to since I was a kid. I’ve heard my uncles talk about it as a perfect place to take a date. But, I fell in love with that place when I was in college. I went there last Saturday for brunch. They’ve managed to keep up the magic of the dosa, sambhar and filter coffee for so many years now. Other than the fact that the dosas got greasier, I have almost no complaints about that place as ill maintained as it is.

When I was in college, we could get out in the afternoons in the final year. So, the perfect place to bunk class and go to was just a minute’s walk away. The dosa then was Rs. 17 and coffee was Rs. 8. We used dig out the change from our pockets (me and 3 other friends) and depending on the financial status of the day, the menu would be decided well before going there. On especially oppulent days, we used to have masala dosa and one odd times, bonda as well. Sitting inside and eating is probably not as enticing as the drive-in place. But I find that fun too. In spite of the heat beating down through the asbestos roof and poorly functioning fans, there’s an old world charm about it that will never die.

Now that the government has decided to reclaim the land, lets see what use they put it to.

Woodys will be missed, sorely!

Kid alert!

I’ve always been a little uncomfortable around kids. I have a problem with really small kids ‘cos they cry round the clock. I’m saying this in the sweetest, most nonjudgmental way possible. They’re not exactly my kinda fun especially when I’m travelling or trying to get something done. But they always find me in malls, theaters and trains. I’ve given up reacting these days when I find a crying toddler in the same coupe. Its sort of a given, you know. This time it was complete package with a family, crying baby, pram and all. Femina/Stardust to the rescue and I survived.

Being around slightly more grown up kids, say, 10-12 year olds, is a different kind of discomfort. Though I like them better than the crying toddlers, I’m always worried about what I’m saying or doing when I’m around them. I’m a pretty careless person and I don’t want to be the one that the kids’ parents warn them about.

I normally don’t swear or use bad language in conversation, except when I’m driving. You know what I’m talking about, Madras roads, careless cyclists, idiotic auto drivers. Its almost impossible to keep my cool and reach the destination without screaming at at least one person on the way. When I get irritated on the road, I kinda lose control on what I’m saying. The curses just flow, multiligually. This has got me into some very seat squirming trouble. I even got out of it unscathed with my parents. But twice, it happened in front of kids.

My friend’s brother, a very well-informed kid, turned around and said “G, do you not realise that there are 2 twelve year olds (him and his friend, to make matters worse) in the car,” in the tone that your 50 year old warden probably uses to make you feel like a piece of lump. I honestly had no comeback and wanted the earth to swallow me up right then. Just when I thought those scars were healing, today, I said something that I really shouldn’t have in the car, in front of my 12 year old cousin. There was uncomfortable silence for a minute or so and then he said “Appa used that word when he was fighting with the watchman the other day.”

I give up! I shouldn’t be allowed to interact with human being less than 15 years of age. I really don’t want to be the one to leave any scars on their already difficult adolescence.

Will this work?

I happened to watch this program on Times Now. I’m glad someone’s brought it out in the open. I think every one who’s studied in colleges in Madras will tell you how true this is.

I studied in a women’s college but went a co-education school which was probably just as bad, if not worse. I studied in a school run by the Arya Samaj. They ran quite a few schools in Madras. Wherever possible they ran seperate schools for boys and girls. In the co-ed schools, there were very strict rules against girls and boys talking. We even used to have separate staircases for boys and girls. In fact, we had separate floors for boys and girls. Till I passed out of school, I only knew a lot of the boys in my school by face and not name.

Its so shameful that all this is being enforced in the name of Tamil culture. I want to know who defines this culture. Its very disheartening to see people who call themselves educationists have such a narrow minded approach in life.

Apparently this was played to the State Education minister who also claimed he was shocked. So, whose court is the ball in really?

WTF

This is not about any one thing in particular. Its just about a few things that happened over the last one week!

- I’ve had to deal with the worst auto drivers in the country. If you have any doubts, I’m talking about the ones in Madras. They will NEVER have any change! They also expect you to walk around with two heavy bags and find someone to give you change if you’re not interested in paying them any extra money. They will also tell you that Egmore Station to Anna Nagar is 13 km! On which planet??

- Why are hospitals interested in knowing what my monthly income is? As long as I pay the money they ask for and fill out the endless forms and stand in the long billing counter queues, how should it matter to them? They anyway charge everyone the same fee. As ridiculous as it may seem, we all pay the consultation fees before we see the doctor anyway! This is certainly not doing wonders for my phobia.

- How does it make any difference to you what my religion is? How come your “computers” always (I’ve tried this in more than one hospital) never have the facility to leave this column blank.

- You can walk the entire length of the train and not find a dustbin! When you ask one of the railway employees, they will ask you to chuck it out of the window.. Eureka, that’s something no person would’ve ever thought of! Also, I’ve resigned to the fact that crying children are attracted to me and will keep crying through the night when I’m in the same coupe!

- This has never happened to me before, but the train I was travelling in to Madras (Kacheguda Express) actually had a power failure! There was no batter back up, so every time the train stopped at a station, the compartment would be pitch dark. People who boarded the train much later in the night, actually had to wait till the train moved to find their seats.

On a brighter note, I’m in Madras for a week and its actually not so hot here now!

PS: This is what Google has to say about Microsoft’s bid for Yahoo!

I’m back!

For a lot of reasons, I’ve spent the better part of the last 2 months in Madras. Its been just brilliant. I think I’ve done just about everything but shout from my rooftop and proclaim my love for this city. With a lot of time on my hands, I’ve re-acquitanted myself with this place.

December, is by far the best time to be in Madras. For one, the sun is not out in its full vigor everyday! Surprisingly, this year, the temperature is low enough to even put Madras on the radar of places that truly have a winter For another, the music season has kickstarted. With the number of sabhas and performers increasing by leaps and bounds, the choice one has is tremendous. Madras is at its cultural best at this time of the year.

I’m not a die-hard fan of carnatic music. But I can enjoy a 3 hour concert without feeling lost or stumped. I have a few artists that I follow or rather know that I like for whatever reasons. What really draws me to a concert is not just the music but also the crowd and the ambience. I can sit in one of the sabhas and watch people around me all day. This is where the quintessential Tam Brahm crowd meets. The Ambi maamas and the Raajam maamis talk about everything ranging from weather to the latest soap to the performer’s ensemble to what raaga they think must be sung that day to the pallavi and neraval at the previous day’s concert to which artist they think has the most potential to which would the hottest kutcheri of the season!

Another hot favorite is the tiffin menu in various sabhas! The keera vadas and carrot halwas get as much publicity as the performers themselves. When I was too young to attend kutcheris, my grandfather would still take to me to Music Academy at least once every season to snack at the canteen!! I’ve actually seen happening social gatherings at sabha canteens that run their own show irrespective of the artist playing! Its not just the food that draws people to these canteens, its also the ambience. I’ve always associated these places with pipping hot coffee and vada and dosa and bare-chested waiters in worn out, yellowing veshtis and poonal. They always yell their orders to the kitchen and call any man “maama” and any woman “maami.” The girls are always referred to as “endi ma, kozhandha” and the boys, very predictably, “ambi.” More recently, the waiters have uniforms, and the canteens look more hygienic, but the feel remains untouched.

This is again one of those things that only Madras can offer to you!

PS: the inspiration for this post came from the vazhapoo vada and carrot halwa I had at Vani Mahal today!

The joy of bursting crackers!

I think I stopped bursting crackers quite a few years back after some bad experiences. When I was about 9 or 10, I celebrated Diwali with my paternal cousins for the first time. There are 2 boys and a girl, much older than me. So, all the “kids” were asked to burst crackers under the older cousin’s supervision. Anxious to get back to the safe territory before the Lakshmi vedi burst, I ran into my cousin with one of those huge incense sticks in my hand. Before I knew it, his brand new shorts had a big hole burnt in it and oh, I burnt his thigh as well. I was so petrified of what was to come that I started howling a couple of knotches higher than him. So, when the parents came out running, for a minute, they had trouble understanding which one of us was hurt. As usual, we were back to business in about 20 minutes when my parents and his were still fighting over the issue. After that, there were a few burns and bruises in our many Bijili fights, nothing serious though. Bijili fights, for the ignorant, are fights where you stand on either side of a low wall/gate and light bijilis and throw them at each other.

Then, for a couple of years after that, I regularly came down with a bad cold and high fever during diwali. This was attributed to a bad case of dust allergy That was pretty much when I started losing interest in the whole thing. Then, the 14-16 phase happened when you had to protest against bursting crackers. It was the whole pseud intellectual display that kinda became a social norm. Even when my dad insisted that it was “sasthram” to at least light a “busvaanam,” I had to protest. After that, the interest weaned, and there was almost no bursting crackers.

This year, I’ve already been home a few days now and my cousin, who’s about 10 years younger than me, is a big cracker enthusiast. It started with having to supervise him when my aunt and uncle were busy. Now, I really enjoy bursting crackers. Although, the interest in all the big bombs and the wars have not returned, I really like all those “girly” fireworks, the colorful, noiseless, big flowery ones. I like drawing stuff in the air with those sparklers and lighting two flower pots at the same time and jumping in and out of the maze created by the zameen chakkar.

Its good to be home!

I miss Madras

It’s very simple. I miss that city in a way that’s very hard to explain. I have no complaints about Hyderabad, in fact, I really like Hyderabad (Dublin’s not even included in this list). But sometimes, a wave of nostalgia sweeps over me. At that moment, I almost feel like someone’s tearing my heart out. It sometimes feels like pretty strong emotions to have about a city. But I do. I’ve spent some of my best moments there, memories that bring a smile to my face. Its almost like a fierce sense of belonging I don’t think I will experience anywhere else. Its home.

But somewhere down the line, I feel like there’s been a paradigm shift. This I guess is only a normal transition, ‘cos other than a couple of my friends, most of them don’t even live there anymore. My life’s settings have now changed to Hyderabad. My family has always lived there, but that is a different equation all together. With such rapid changes happening in the city, I almost feel like I won’t know the place anymore in a few years time. And that kinda freaks me out. My friend and I were discussing moving back to Madras a few days back. We said we would both move back to Madras and get our own apartment. Though it was something we mentioned in passing, it got me thinking. The more I thought about it, the more perfect it seemed! This is probably not going to happen for another few years. But this time, maybe I’ll live by the beach