OAT with flowers

After designing pages, it was close to 1, when i collapsed in bed. After an oily breakfast of upma and paper rava dosa in mess, i dragged a reluctant kiddo Mukherjee who was saying he had 5 exams left. I had only 2 left + one submission. He said, he had not seen so many butterflies and pushed off to library the moment his tea got over.



I had started hunting for flower names ever since i read a Jhumpa Lahiri’s collection of short stories – believe it was Unaccustomed Earth. Right at the path that led from the library, there was this yellow hibiscus flower with a deep scarlet red core and at its heels were row of red geraniums exuding such shining splendour of a rising baby red sun. On the right were bushes with beetroot red leaves and hotchpotch of yellow and orange flowers along with pink and white daisies. And a row of marigolds decked the path to the OAT. Just lining the stage were these daisies again. All shades of pink daisies were there, from baby pink, amaranth pinks, ruby pinks, to fuchsia and touch of lavender magenta strewn here and there. And amongst these flowers were hovering a plethora of white and whitish green butterflies and baby bees and i found only one common mime butterfly basking in its black and white glory. All these paper thin butterflies and bees were flitting so fast from one flower to another and it made such a picturesque scene. I just removed my footwear and walked barefoot on the green grass around, gazing at these flowers and the smallest bees doing their job so early in life. The third deck in OAT had golden yellow sunflowers with marigolds and another variety of bright orange and yellow flowers. I walked by the side of these flowers and suddenly i became aware that i was stepping on these tiny-tiny yellow flowers the size of my bindi carpeted around, there was no way i could have taken another step without crushing these petite divine creations. On the whole it was so refreshing, so alleviating after the past 2 days. Now got to get back to my assignment.

IT Odyssey on May 25

At last… all’s well that ends well. Probably am calling shots too early. Never the less, let me tell you this day’s saga:

The Deliberation
I was wondering about the IT returns cheque from April beginning. It was dated Jan 13 and was valid till April 13th. The cheque had a small print which stated valid for 3 months. Though it was deposited on April 6th, it bounced back stating it was out of date. I started bugging Chandra sir and ICICI bank and at last managed to retrieve the returned cheque on Saturday from jayanagar 3rd block. Because of cheque, I was late to office by 3 hours. Mean while I was also trying to hunt down the person in IT department. I spoke the finance team in Biocon who directed me to one Giri whose routine job was to hang around HMT office for Biocon’s tax affairs. He gave me a list of documents, that I was supposed to give to the IT department which included a letter stating why the cheque was not deposited in time, my last IT returns acknowledgement form, some XXX A form, id proof etc. I listened flabbergasted to Giri sir. He asked which ward? I was clueless. Ward??? He said, I might have to go twice to collect the cheque. Once to give the letter and two – three days later to collect the cheque.

HMT Bhavan Rendezvous
Meanwhile I had also sent a reply to the email, which was sent by IT department for tax receipt for my TIME GDPI classes. There was no reply. I went to the nsdl website and wrote a issue/query. Luckily they replied stating, that they are not the concerned party and gave me one strange number to contact, which I didn’t. I had looked up for IT offices in Bangalore and found the HMT office numbers. I asked mom to fax me the letter which she did this morning. One Mr. Sathyanarayana Bhat of ward 14(8) had issued the cheque. From morning, I kept on trying the numbers displayed in the website with no luck. I thought, today is pratmai, why waste time when dinapalan said efforts will go waste? But tomorrow was Tuesday and my chandrastama was starting on Wednesday, so I had to hurry.

Anyway pratmai was getting over at 14:25. To get over the post lunch soporific state, I kept on trying the number and suddenly Mr. Bhat himself answered the phone. He sounded timid or too conscientious I should say with madams pouring out profusely. He said this was his last week and that he was getting transferred to some other place and that I need to get the new cheque within this week. I was elated on first being able to speak to him, and second on his saying that he would reissue a cheque. Suddenly, I was wondering about speed post and all that. Then I decided, why not go to HMT office in person. My cab to main road from SEZ was at 14:30 and it was already 14:25. It was a good 12 minutes walk for me on normal days to reach the gate. I went there, the cab was still waiting. Once we reached the main road, I saw a bmtc bus and asked the cabbie to stop and I boarded the majestic bus just in time. After more than an hour, I reached majestic and I had yelahanka buses waiting, which dropped me at stop walk able from HMT bhavan. It took me around 20 minutes to cross the road to reach HMT bhavan. Suddenly I lost patience with the never ending stream of vehicles generously depositing smoke on me and I stretched my hand and crossed while the drivers loudmouthed.

I put on my smile after 2 and half hours of tiring journey and went to 3rd floor as I was instructed over phone and asked for Bhat. After asking 3 persons and after another 2 persons guided me without my asking them, they said go to 4th floor opposite wing and there he was. He was going through one big bunch of envelopes manually for another person sitting in one of the 3 chairs. He motioned for me to sit. After that was done, I gave my cheque to him. He didn’t ask for any reasons. Neither on phone nor in person. After a moment’s deliberation, he picked up the phone and asked for a cheque for < 25k. the small guy who came few moments later got a cheque for > 25k. So the small guy went to the drawer in Bhats room and took a <25 cheque, wrote down the details as I dictated my account number.

At Kumara Park ICICI bank
That was it. It got over in a jiffy. The boy was apparently from Kanchipuram and there was another guy from Madurai and so TN association worked. He quickly got it stamped, gave me a water bottle to quench my thirst and I was out with a new cheque. Near the lift, I asked a complete stranger as to where the nearest ICICI bank was. He said there is one near RT nagar and one near sadashiv nagar and if I didn’t mind, he could drop me near the nearest ICICI bank. I just wanted to deposit the cheque at the earliest and I agreed. He asked if it was IT returns cheque. He asked did he give the cheque? I said, yes, surprisingly fast. He said, earlier, they would not give the IT returns cheque without money. Now because of Lokayuktha, everyone was afraid it seems. Whoever is Lokayuktha, I will surely vote for them next time. His scooter was a dilapidated grey one which looked as old as he was. I sat behind him and he dropped me near Kumara Park ICICI. I had stayed in Palace Guttahalli for 4 months and used to spend my weekends staring at paintings in Chitra kala parishad and used to go for morning walks in Golf course. But when he asked me if I knew the place well, I said no on impulse (I don’t know why) and he went to describe, this is Asoka, this is golf course etc. I listened gratefully for his lift. He dropped me off at Kumara park and at bank, I realized when my turn came, I had not filled in the challan, nor I had a pen. I borrowed a pen from one guy and made the counter lady wait till I filled it up. Once I gave the cheque, I breathed a sigh of relief on having completed a month long pending task. Now I remember the nagalinga flowers on the busstop next to Kumara park ICICI bank. But I missed seeing them. I boarded the bus after waiting for less than a minute and boarded another bus from majestic and reached campus at 7:30 p.m. 5 hours saga in all. But am glad, Mr. Bhat didn’t ask for bribe, nor a reason for not depositing in time. He was a good guy. Chennai IT department didn’t return my 2K something in 2004, but Blore IT department returned and to top it all reissued a cheque without much hassles. Now I have to wait for 2 more days before the cheque gets cleared, which I hope, it will.

MS A Life in Music

“Simplicity, devotion to God and to her husband, respect for elders, and an eagerness to learn new things are the main characteristics that makes MS great.” – T.J.S. George

My Tryst with MS

The first time, I had heard about MS was after she died in 2004 in Velachery girls PG, by my roomie Abhi, a chubby maami. I read about MS in the Hindu weekend article and that was it. The second time, I heard about her was from another maami in 2005, Bhu. She sang kurai ondrum illai for me after I listened to her pour out on Saturday morning. I was struck to MS ever since then. I was surprised to see the mp3 in my system that dad had got from her and practiced so many times, that my folks gave a bemused look and left me alone with my system. I googled about MS and was glad to find that she was a virgo, a September 16. I have an innate admiration for virgo gals and the way they carry themselves. One Sep 16 was a school topper, karate blackbelt who made me promise that I should never grow nails on my right hand, a promise that I have conveniently broken for years now. Another Sep 16 was our school’s mesmerizing damsel who married our English teacher’s son after 8 years of his courting. She was so sublime. Even an erotic and embarrassing “aap jaisa koi” rendered by her, sounded pristine and chaste.

How the book landed

It is summers for us now and all our folks are in different parts of the world and I along with couple of others are struck to our hostel rooms. My familiar friend’s rooms are now occupied by interns from other institutes, I was craving for company. After seeing BK’s friend’s profile in orkut that had a translation of “Vaishnav jan to”, I kept on playing the same song in loop for days that KS remarked that MS had rendered “Vaishav Jan to” much more divinely than Lata. I searched for MS’s “Vaishnav Jan to” and I was not able to find it. I was lamenting about not finding this mp3 during a luncheon in my room to my neighbor MB and DG, that MB offered me her book “MS – A Life in Music” by T.J.S. George. Wow, I was ecstatic, on cloud nine. My gtalk status message that day was “MS in my hands”.

My Reflections on MS

But then, I was in the middle of VSN’s India Million mutinies and started Namesake as well. And work was piling up and I didn’t want to sacrifice my sleep and friends kept me engaged with all their stories. I would find myself listening to them till 10 pm, and then it was just time to sleep. At last, I read this book yes’day in office itself, unable to contain it any longer. My initial reaction was, oh my god, what is he doing. Just like Dom Moraes bio on IG. He started with the history of Kashmir and women rulers. So many details, without getting into the main topic of interest. Giving all the world’s details except what I wanted to read. I would have preferred more details, he just jumps years. Giving the outlines and historical trivia and mentions MS in the background initially. Later it was a page turner. Suddenly I was also wondering, would MS have liked details about her personal life spilled for the entire world to scrutinize. I would have preferred if VSNaipaul had not bared it all to French. Seek good and see only good.

Every chapter had a translation of Thyagaraja's kritis. Suddenly I was enamored to learn Telugu so that I could read all his kritis peacefully without googling every time. I kind of found this striking and sent it to my mentor who considers me his muse.

P:
cakkani rAja mArgamul(u)NDaga
1sandula dUran(E)la O manasA

A:
cikkani 2pAlu mIgaDa(y)uNDaga
3chI(y)anu 4gangA sAgaram(E)lE (cakkani)

I had read about MS in Ananda Vikatan about the way she keeps her kumkum without pissuru, about the way she does shringar with a careless abandon. About her daughter Radha admiring her, in spite of MS being her stepmom. At home, everyone scolds me since am the only person to talk to my dad’s lady. I can not and will not call her amma, but treat her as a human being, yes, I should and would. I devoured all articles on MS, when ever I got a chance. When Bhu told me that MS had created a scandal in those years by marrying an Iyer, I hardly knew what she meant, till I came to read about MS’s roots. So much hoopla over origins. Wonder, when all this would come to an end. Fawning, if some one is a king and disdaining otherwise. BLaw prof has taught us that treating unequals unequally is also equality. Okie whatever. I could see the 2-7 relationship between her and Gandhi, obvious submission by Nehru and could not help being amused.

I badly want to see her Shakuntalai and Meera. I was struck by GNB, no wonder MS was. Kind of amused by the words people used in those days in their love letters. As it always happens, what is serious this day, will be farcical tomorrow. I wish I could know the time of her birth as well, so that could analyze her more. She should be Bharani or Krithiga. I was surprised by the way Kaanchi Shankarcharya made her change from Madisaar to normal sari before blessing her. If a satguru of his stature made her supplicate so, am wondering about the whole of state of affaris in general.
When I listened to her singing in English in UN, I stopped it half way through, the second time, I didn’t know it was a fiasco.

Yesterday evening, I was there in OAT, reading it, lying on the grass, till Socks came up to me and drooled saliva on my kurta. There were ants and so I went near the stage and Socks went away. Prof JH’s parents came. Ma ji was telling me that her knee cap had broken and it was difficult for her to walk. She said Indian knee caps were waste and the ones she had bought in Australia were good. And she saw the book in my hand and told me that she had seen the Bhaktha Meera on TV. Uncle was asking did I know BalaSubramanian? I knew he was referring to Balasaraswathi and told him yes, and that she had revolutionized Bharatnatyam. He was saying, that she came for an Edinburg performance, when he was a student. But it was very costly for him it seems. So he didn’t go for her performance.

Looking back, once a person has achieved it all, everything is good, everything glorious. Whatever, it is all gods krupa, that such a bundle of maidenly delight treaded on this earth.

India - A Million Mutinies Now

I was in page 458 when i wanted to know what does VS stand for. I saw that he should have either been satabisha/ p bhadra. Aug 17, 1932. Then i wanted to see his picture. I googled and found http://www.nytimes.com/2008/11/23/books/review/Packer-t.html?pagewanted=3

I am no longer shocked. After all, was it not kind of similar with Nehru, Gandhi, IG. HI uncle used to tell me that people’s vishuddhi chakra and sex chakra are connected, just like their ajna chakra and mooladhara chakra are connected. There is nothing like good or bad, nothing exists in isolation. All exist in pairs. Just a matter of perception. Am wondering, what Kahlil would have mentioned for this. Whatever. After meeting this taurean with 17th and P.bhadra, am suddenly wondering about men and the things they end up doing during certain times. Am surprised with astrogyan. It is so accurate. Is there something called free will, if planets can dictate a man so?

VSN mentioned about a Times war reporter, whom he found so hard to read, initially. It is the same thing with me and his book. I got this issued from bookrack in November. And am still reading this. it is good, it has filled in so many blanks I had about India. Holistic, so eclectic, but i feel, he is kind of a Brahminphile. Blindstruck by their ritualis. Whatever, now the remaining 60 pages will no longer be the same way. To see the world in the eyes of a leo with a Acqua/Piscean moon is different. Now VSN must be a very old man, rather a child, who am i to be judgemental. God bless him.

Unexpected Ahilyanagari

Exam got over at 7:30 p.m. I was the last one to give the paper with the invigilator getting nasty and vehemently demanding my paper and me clutching the dear sheet for marking the few unanswered MCQs. Hope i managed to answer all the questions. I rushed back for a quick bath and tossed things in American tourister that was cogni gift and found i had 4 sms on asking to inform once the exams were over. So while my new mentor gave me company till the main gate, socks, also took on to grabbing my handbag and tried to get in between my legs. Socks got excited, for moments it didn’t let me take a step, at times, it let me walk to join me after a fierce chase. God, i was going to miss Socks, its soft brown sheen.

I found an auto waiting at the gate and boarded it and reached the station 40 minutes before the train was supposed to start, wish i had spent some time with my new patron, rather than waiting in the dark compartment. When the light came, i was surprised; i was the only gal in the compartment portion.

Being some one’s time pass.

I decided, if i need collective protection, i need to talk to everyone so that they would not misbehave at night and hence i started small talk. The compartment was full of youthful 18+ air force commandos who had just completed one training module from jalahalli and a Rajasthan police Shiv Bhagwan who was returning to some place 180 km from jaipur after deporting a mentally unstable Bangalore guy who had strayed near Pakistan border. I make it a point never to lose too much sleep over exams, nevertheless, i was sleep deprived and hence i promptly slept off after small talk. I ate lunch and slept off, since i had conveniently forgotten the 2 jhumpa lahiris i had borrowed from the library in my hurried packing. I had side middle berth in sampark kranti, so later the folks were saying, how i slept a lot, kabhi ulti, kabhi pulti. Day 1, evening, as usual, i went and sat near the steps to watch the sunset, and Guddu Dagar was there sitting next to me, and got me oranges and cup of tea, which i savoured, watching the sun turn into a myriad glorious colours before finally disappearing. Throughout the journey, i found the ground flying past by my right and the sky and the background, converging at my feet as i travelled northward. I was wondering, was the soolam direction conducive to that days travel.

Earlier, that morning, in between, when i woke up, the IAF guys would quiz me starting with time pass hi nahi ho raha hai and i patiently answered their questions adding masala about Amir Madhavan and the shooting. There was thankfully one tam, who gave me 3 podi idlies. In the evening, GD gave me company while i gazed at the sunset appearing now amidst the small ups and downs. I was surprised to find tea and oranges shoved into my hands. Later that night, GD gave me popcorn and when i woke up between my sleep. He showed me his assignments and said, he had so much to do within a fortnight. Simple questions on airport safety and mechanics. Crazy, to think abt stuff that ppl had to cram to pass these exams.

That night my train reached Bhopal at 11 kind and Shiv Bhagavan woke me up promptly, handled my luggage and he again got me a tea stating, accha time pass hua. I was wondering at being somebody’s time pass.

All the world’s troubles

It was little after 11:30 when i alighted at Bhopal and found a nice family of 2 kids - second daughter was Rithu and one son and loving parents. I was telling them, how our family was meeting together after 2 years and mom was telling how her elder daughter who was doing IT in Allencity (or some college like that) was missing her so terribly. Thanks to them, i had idli and sambar in the middle of the night. When the announcement came for Ahilyanagari, i left them and this is where all the world’s trouble started. A guy, whose name i later learnt as PKJ (Nov 1) started walking real close to me, invading my personal space, that i forced myself to talk to him, asking, how long would the train stop, before it started. He came to the same compartment, where i was about to board and asked for my ticket, which i refused to give and he asked which seat and he went n checked the reservation and said, yes, it was reserved under my name. But my berth was taken by two kids and the numbering was topsy turvy with the 8 thing being converted to 9 thing. The tt said, i could take SU, and i clambered on to it. But PKJ kept staring at me so hard, that i asked, what do u want?. I picked up a conversation with the Ujjain police guy Rudresh (blunder mistake). I was so scared of the PKJ that i jumped on the UB while Rudresh was in SM. In the middle of the night, i realized it was cold and bent down to switch off the fans and R woke up in the process and offered his bedsheet, mine was inside the suitcase, which was in the SU, which i had abandoned thanks to PKJ who was just below. Rudresh said, he was going to come to Ujjain in the night, so i could i return his sheet then and he got my no to coordinate at Ujjain that night.

At Ujjain, he was asking; if i would join him, so that he could drop me off at Indore in his bike. I said, no thanks, while PKJ was watching from his SM. Indore was the last stop, and PKJ, took my luggage n helped in the stairs. He said, we will have tea, i said, i need to brush my teeth before having tea. So he got me toothbrush and toothpaste and said; now we will have tea. I had forgotten my toothbrush in sampark kranthi, and PKJ refused payment. He said, wait till the sun rises and then we will go. My mobile had got switched off due to low battery and he let me make a call from his mobile to dad to tell them that i have reached Indore safely. I thought he would go away, but he persisted. He never let me lift my luggage, he hailed an auto for me and i was surprised when he and his chamcha sat in the auto with me to IIMI. I was asking, if his place was on the way. But no, it was not. He gave me company till my brother came out of hostel. He refused to accept payment for auto fare, toothbrush, and call. Even the auto guy was saying that gals came alone to IIMI. But PKJ went on to defend, how I can let her travel alone. Funny. Now Rudresh keeps bugging me over phone. But PKJ has not bothered me. Funny, how wonderfully, i have perceived people. The case of fence eating the grass.

Surprise Ujjain trip

I had just reached at 6:30 am and i had this urgent summons of getting ready coz cab to Ujjain sightseeing was ready. The only song that came to my mind was kaadu potta kaadu. I had seen the campus in Wikimapia, but nothing had prepared me for the vast dryness and parched earth spread all around. After seeing lush greenery of Blore, Indore n Ujjain was hot as oven, scorching as hell. Place where bhairav drank brandy, and mahakaaleswar sannidhi, where the guys in violet and maroon dhotis blotched ur forehead with various pratimas of om and other shapes. Then i decided to drop off, kaali temple and go instead to sudhama’s ashram. Good choice due to lack of time for convo. The paintings were simple yet alluring, i gazed at couple of paintings that were so striking. Avantika, Ujjain, Ahilyanagari, Swarnanagari so many other names for Ujjain. Mmm....

Convo

By word n deed, be worthy of this whatever. In B, it was by thought, word and deed, be worth of this crap. Was glad to c my bro on cloud 9. I was dead tired, after oveny train journey and scorching hot Ujjain trip. Food was okie. But lunch at Punjabi dhaba was quite similar n i was bored.

I kept my dad, bro, sis n mom awake coz my 3:50 am train from Ujjain. We booked to same cab. We reached the station at 3 am and we had to wait for almost an hour at Ujjain. Rudresh kept calling. Everyone at home was angry over his calls.

Trip back to blore

Luckily there was a wailing baby, cute little Fathima (who managed to cry louder than the baby) and Fathima’s mom n her father who looked more like her grandfather. Fathima slept between her father’s legs, with her head on her father’s groin. Three continuous sunrises saw me without taking bath. On the 3rd day, Fathima’s mother combed my hair, since it was a perfect mess. I again took on to sleeping peacefully without having to talk to people. Listening to stories being told to each other. Fatima’s mom thrust cream biscuits on my hand. There was once a heated discussion on how Muslims butchered cows. I felt bad on their being questioned like that. But Fathima’s mom answered with poise. She had this way of using her hands as if she was doing an abhinaya. I loved her. I somehow feel at home with them. Probably coz my zodiac says, that i will have thulukiyar friends.

Now i have to tell GD why i was not able to attend his calls, coz i was lost in MDA’s convo speech.

Macroeco class this day

Yes’day, I was interviewing one guy, I forgot his name. His father was a doctor, his mother was a doctor. His elder sister was a doctor. And he didn’t apply for MBA, coz, he was repaying the loan for his sister for the past 2 years. He had brilliant record, call from B and but he was geeky. Too nerdy.
Too techie, his OS was free, so were his apps. He had got his SOP in that tiny acer thingy.

He was born n brought up in Bihar and what he said, about Bihar shocked me to the core. He said, he wanted to help his doctor parents and spread the awareness of snake bites etc. After seeing endless episodes on the most fascinating snakes, include king cobras copulating, I knew that most snake bites were not poisonous, something, that led me to walk anywhere without bothering too much while my friends used to fear a lot. I would always ask them, what is the probability of snake biting, and even if it did, what is the probability of it being poisonous. Even otherwise, you could always put a knot and get a ride till the hospital. I had seen 2 black snakes crushed to death on the road, very small baby snakes in the campus. For me snakes were Amba. My dreams are snake infested. And my snake dreams are scary always.

So coming back to him, he said, snake bites at times lead to paralysis and hemorrhage. In his place, there were so many quacks who had political backing. Whenever people got bitten by snakes, the quacks would treat the un poisonous bites but the really poisonous bites would coz so many deaths. Usually it would be too late, when the patients after trying the quack came to the hospital.

He said, there was not a single electronics instrument in his house that was not vandalized. The quacks’ supporters would come to his house and break up everything, so many times it seems. Oh man, I was shocked. He wanted to do something for the society, he was too much into social service and he was a technical god, but the sad state of affairs in Bihar, hurt my throat.

This morning, our macro eco, prof was telling us about Fiscal policy and the associated lags. He was saying, how when the rich people got happy or when the business sentiments were positive, they would go out for a treat and how when the poor people became happy, they went for a cup of tea. He was talking about sachet teas and shampoos. And suddenly, my throat started hurting. Every time, on the way to the railway station, memories keep coming back, making me feel so bad inside. I still remember the time, when I went home for Diwali. I was on the way to Egmore and there was this old lady, collapsed and crumpled on the pavement, with dirty ragged clothes, shriveled and bony. It was Diwali eve and she was still begging. Of course, begging is an organized business in India, never the less, to think, an old lady had to face such a life, shocked me, pained me.

This time, again, when I was there in AC Volvo on the way to majestic, there was this leper lady next to some car showroom, leaning with great difficulty to crush one of the 2 beedas she had, since she had no teeth. I remembered the bony thin old lady who came to deliver food for KV school kids, who said, a beeda was her lunch breakfast and dinner. How many people are below the poverty line and here people go for treat and spend 5k for 20 ppl for one dinner. Ask them to give something for yoga classes, they would not. All easier said than done.

My face is so expressive. If am happy, the whole world knows it. Everyone in office would always know, the Fridays I go home. If am sad, same thing. My father just reads my face like anything, that I can never lie to him. He will know by my voice. I still remember the pus filled leper on the way to isanya lingam in thiruvannamalai. We were on the last lap of the 18 km girivalam. I saw him, and I felt so bad, I felt disgusted to tell the truth. It was around 7 am and I was still walking. He saw my face and thought I was laughing. He said, “Enna sirikiriya papa. Paar un seer alinju poiyirum”. I didn’t actually laugh at him, come on, how could any one laugh at him? I was feeling so bad, I felt saddened by the state a human body was reduced to with leprosy and pus oozing out. It was so hot and he was lying on the hot sun.

There was a time when I went to Tnagar to shop. Same old Ranganathan street. Just near the busstop, there was this guy, young one, without limbs, quadriplegic. It was so hot. He was there bare bodied, with saliva dribbling down, with his begging bowl next to him. I passed him and after a while, I completely forgot him, in the shopping spree. Only later that night, that image taunted me. Even now it does. The begging organization in tnagar was cruel enough to put him like that under scorching sun after having chopped off his limbs as well.

The next aug 11, I had my car accident, that took away 18 months of my life. I think at times, was it coz of that thiruvanamalai lepers curse? Many a times, I wonder, I always stop with my thoughts, no action. My throat hurts, instead of offering someone support, I too start crying with their pain. I went just once to the gals orphan house. God, am glad, I have my parents to take care of me. I had to really control myself and not let the tears fall down in the macro eco class, thinking that there are people for whom tea is a luxury.

Brinjal and me

The first time, I had an aversion towards brinjals was when my sis, after her bio lab adventures, told me that the seeds inside the brinjals, looked like tadpole eggs. And I tentatively stopped eating brinjals. But later, kathrika pullikolumbu and kathrika ennakka, was irresistible and I started eating again.

Yes’day evening, I was seeing all the fwd mails and I found this naankadavul.zip. I was eating the apples given during afternoon lunch and here was this background music of omnamashivaya and agories’ disgusting video of the so called saamiyars, cutting human hand, sitting on corpses and meditating and eating putrid flesh fished out of rivers. That night, I had to attend H ppt and I ate pulliyodarai, for the sake of completing a job in a hurry to be on time for the meeting. This morning again, I ate idlies and vada, though vada didn’t sense good and the fact that the frying oil droplets in chutney were red in colour indicating, its reusage, kinda revolted me. This afternoon, I kept alarm at 1:45 to have lunch, to eat without appetite, just to finish the job of eating before the mess closed at 2 pm. I went to the mess, piled up 2 cups of curd, rice, sambar, raitha, there was this baigan bhartha or masala ennakka. I piled that up as well, got a phulka and sat down to eat. I had my first bite of the phulka with brinjals and the second, that the scene of the man, eating dead man’s flesh flashed. I got up with vehemence. Food was so revolting. I could not eat my lunch and dinner now. Later around 4 pm I had 2 lassies and chocolate pastries. Am glad, I was distracted by S while I was eating.

God, wish I could forget these things and go on. God, please, I should erase this off my mind. When so many are starving without food, wasting so much is wel... Think, i will go to mess, only when am absolutely starving.

Randomness and Rahu

Be it 4 am in the morning or 2 am in the morning, at times, I hear them arguing so loud. So what, if her father is one of the elite aristocrats in the traditionally posh localities of Bangalore? The first time, I saw a red IP in the bin, I was thinking, why don’t these marketers in those titillating ads ever point to the fact, that over usage of IP makes the gal not carry a child, in the long run. Okie she can adopt later on. One orphan will benefit.

I was reading about German doctors, who do free service in Kolkatta in this day’s Mint. And immediately, I remembered city of joy. I remembered the 7 months pregnant woman, who offered her foetus for a fee and the quack doctors just left her to die half way through the surgery when the police came. I remembered some doctors wala fiction, where a black American doctor was murdered with her foetus with scalpels, to make it look like, she wanted to do her own abortion or C-section. Am going to do analysis now.

At times I feel, every time a guy cries and pleads, the next step is going to be violent. I just hope, he does not resort to extreme measures. “Please tell me” and all the crap, yes or no and all those open ended and close ended questions. Okie, she is under rahu influence. I was always thinking, swathi, maham, anusham etc. are maha nakshathras and one could marry such girls without thinking twice. Currently she has Guru maha dasha and rahu bhukthi. Also she has kala sarpa dosha with rahu in the 3rd house of aries and kethu in 9th house of libra. She is pretty with moon in her 7th house. Mmm kinda fits, with my arakora analysis, should I call this confirming bias? But am wondering, about rahu in general. 3 examples should not form the basis for generalization for the rest of the world. I feel, parents should resort to the earlier practice of child marriages, based on analysis of horoscope, rather than letting children (okie 23-24 year old gal is not a child or is she?) seek out themselves. Think I will rather go to the library. I need to switch off and start preparing for my midterms.

And there was this case of the gal, who had virschika lagna with mars and Saturn in the lagna. She was so cute and pretty young just out of 12th standard. She was engaged to my team member, who became my TL after my ilizarov surgery. She wanted to study and her parents wanted her to marry him. And she committed suicide, by hanging. Her birthday was nov 2nd or nov 11th.

Tejowati TriNAYANA lolakshi kamaroopini

There is so much to do, and am as usual watching movies. It is very rare that I watch a movie in full screen, I will be reading something in parallel or balancing my accts in other half of the screen, while I ffwd the movie for the actions and boring songs and watch the dance steps in those ridiculously fast and funny ways. This time, am watching Sorry Bhai in one half and Mauritius reminded me of my section mate’s honeymoon spot and I was googling it to see the island pics and then, suddenly Shabanas role reminded me of the most amazing woman I had met, I forgot her name, but she runs at least 2 beauty parlours in Chennai and she is from Sri Lanka.

There was this program on “Image building for corporate woman” or something like that. There were 17 of us, who went to this place past the Mylapore Bridge, nice posh daffodils hall, the usual place for these usual corporate training programs. It was kinda of raining that day, drizzling on and off and she came dressed in ivory white sari. There was something so elegant about her, so poised, so arresting. She snatched off one of the gal’s dupatta and said, you wear it this way. She showed us the colour combinations. She said, it is not her headache, if you get pimples it is because you are not careful. She said, people would come and ask her, if it helps to apply papaya and tomato on your face. I would rather say, eat them, rather than putting on your face. She spoke English in such a sweet Sinhalese way. She said how she saw us eating curd rice. Back there in Sri Lanka, women never had milk or curd in their food and she says we were lucky to have this. She said beauty was in how u carried yourself and all those gyan. She told these stories. When she was young, she stayed in the house where you could see the street below and the people walking on it. Every day, she and her mom used to see this handsome policeman. He was so handsome, that she and her mom, used to admire him so much and used to wait to see him from their balcony. Then when she was 18-19, that police man, came up to her house and asked her mom for Nayana's hand. Ya Nayana she is, Nayana is her name. Nayana was on cloud 9 and her mom was all ecstatic and said, Nayana should marry him, coz, he had asked her, before asking Nayana. Mom was all set for getting them married, but Nayana had her reservations. She told this story to make us follow our dreams. She wanted to be a hairdresser from the very beginning. Now she has more than 6 saloons in Sri Lanka and 2 in Chennai. She said, if she had married the policeman, she would have had to tag along with him, where ever, he got transferred and her dreams would have got shattered

She told how her rich husband ate chicken, nice hot pepper chicken. He and his friend would strip down to a loose lungi and sit down and eat chicken on a banana leaf. She said, the best way to man’s heart was his stomach. Don’t fight over, who has his or her way. She said, why bother, who has the remote. Let him have his way and u act the lady, gentle and dainty and he will lift the heavy groceries and do the hard jobs. Back home, of course, I didn’t have to act that way. Guess, right from the beginning, since Cheenu was there, he would never let me lift any heavy bag and I would be instead leaning heavily on him pulling his shirt and some point down the road, he would say, idho take my shirt, rather than tearing it away but I knew, that it was only till I let him have his way. Till this date, I don’t know, why he said to dad, he drank that whisky that I drank. That was the last time, dad got whisky in house. I loved presenting food. Even if it tea or coffee or plain water, it had be in that tray, beautifully placed. Even if it was sambar sadham, I used to present sambar sadham and curry beautifully decorated on the plate. But when he did it for me, the glass tumblers would have his dirty finger prints but I was glad. He would complain to mom, that I made him get water for me a dozen times, but though he complained, he got me water never the less. I was such lazy bones at times and had everyone ootify me rather than walk up to kitchen and serve myself. Cheenu was very protective and I started liking Scorpio guys because of Cheenu.

Back to Nayana, she had this beautiful way of doing things She had this 2 gold bangles and she said, I know, you are looking at these bangles. If you want something, go for it. She told this story of this guy, who pasted this picture of red Ferrari in his workplace cabin and she used to look at this picture every day and say, I am working for this. Next time, Nayana met him, the picture was not there and he said, look down and you can see the red Ferrari.

She said, she had 2 sons. One was in Australia, who was studying. She said, you need to prioritize and do things. I would often ask him to hire a maid, but he would not hire a maid. She said, cleaning the house, cooking was not exercise, unless, you broomed pretty briskly that you started sweating. I keep a maid, and ask her to prepare the dal and chapatti for dinner, while I take care of the clients. Spend time on things that are more productive she said.

Something, she said, after that, made me understand a mother in law’s perspective. She said, all these 20 years of my life, my son, would come home and come to me with ma on his lips. Now, when he comes home, he will go to another woman and I will have to prepare for that. I will have to share my son with some other woman.

She also, said, don’t sacrifice. If there is one egg, Indian mother usually gave it to her son. But if there is one egg, make an omelet and divide into 3 and share it. Show your son, how to share responsibilities instead of sacrificing every time. She was more than 50, but looked years younger. She is one lady I really admire. Back home, my mom, my periyamma, my grand mom, and my aunty everyone made up such creative lies to make us have the only glass of milk etc left. Gosh, wish mom had not made all those sacrifices.

She said, none of us, in the hall, wore any proper bras. She said, triumph was the only brand she wore. Years later, when I saw the rates, I decided, its better without any. She said, she came to tnagar to get her blouses stitched, because, there were no good tailors in Sri Lanka and we buy such costly saris and wear such ill fitting blouses. I was like thinking; someone taking flight to get her blouses stitched is so ridiculous. She said, she had 500+ saris and she has as many coloured petticoats. For me, it is the same one black acoba inskirt that I got specially stitched. For me anything, that does not fit in one small samsonite luggage used to get disposed when I shift, now thanks to my blazers, I have changed the policy to the bigger samsonite trolley. No more than one trolley of apparels. Why to hoard and wear something, once a decade? Why to hoard anything at all. Much before bhogi, I have started disposing everything, other than bare essentials.