Fan following

A good friend S and I are bigtime fans of Shabana Azmi. She, to such an extent, that she collects and wears shawls much like her object of admiration. Its one of the strongest bonds between us- our admiration for anything to do with the ace actress. And hence its no wonder that we watch every movie of hers(at the theater, if possible) and if there's a play in town featuring her- you think we'd not go?

So this one year, 2003 to be precise, we decided to catch Tehzeeb at Loehmanns Cinemas in Fairfax, VA. It was a week day- a Tuesday I believe. She, having cleared her schedule, made sure her daughter was fed and taken care of, her husband was suitably entertained with whatever it is that guys like to be entertained with- we finally made it to the theater. We were excited, it had been a while since we'd seen Shabana Azmi on the big screen. Our last had been Godmother, released in 1999. 4 yrs seemed like eternity!

The online movie schedule had mentioned there was a show at 7:30pm. So 7pm saw us at the ticket counter with a loud "2 for Tehzeeb please".

Voice : "Ma'am Tehzeeb went away last Friday, its been replaced by Janasheen!"

She : "Shucks!" and looks at me disappointed. Two disappointed, woebegone faces!

Voice : "Its Tuesday ma'aam tickets are half-price. Want to try Janasheen?"

She : "Alright, sure!" (to me) "We've come this far, why not as well na?"

Me : "Errrrrrrrm its Fardeen Khan yo! I never watch his movies, never want to!"

She : " Its ok na yaar. Its half-price. How bad can it be?"

Me : "Erm, it CAN be very very bad!"

She : "Chal samosa khaate hai"

Me : bleat, bleat!(sigh, no use)

So a plate of samosa chaat and mango lassi later, we found ourselves in the movie hall with 10 other people who had decided to use the half-price offer to put up with this misery that included Fardeen Khan, his dad the great Feroz Khan and Celina Jaitley(horror of horrors, shudder!)

Now the one thing I didn't know about this friend of mine was the fact that she doesn't believe in walking out of movie theaters mid-way. I do it all the time, its second nature to me. For her, its unthinkable and an injustice to the makers of the movie- however bad it may be. Such nobility! So 10 mins later, I bleat again. "S, chal lets go".

She : "Arrey rukh na, we'll see how it pans out. Another couple of hours."

Every 10 mins, bleating continued to no avail.

And we left the cinema hall at the sighting of "The End" sign. I could have died before then.

Another noteworthy "Shabana Azmi fan following" episode was the time when there was the staging of "Kaifi aur Main"- Shabana Azmi and Javed Akhtar's narrative reading of some of the best pennings of the life of Kaifi Azmi and Shaukhat Kaifi.

This friend S had gifted a beautiful handmade paper notebook for my birthday just a few months before this episode. She being somewhat of a poetess herself, she'd written a beautiful piece as a preface. I was raring to make use of this beauty. I figured this would be the best paper on which to get an autograph from our idol, Shabana Azmi. So I was armed with this book, S inaugarated her new Shabana-esque shawl for the occasion(but, of course). Thus we set forth, with our usual enthusiasm and joie de vivre we reserved for such occasions.

We went, we showed our tickets, got checked in, found decent seats and sat back in eager anticipation. Show was scheduled to begin at 6pm, we were in our seats by 5:45. 6pm happened, 6:15 happened, 6:30 happened and finally the MC walked up to the podium.

'Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to 'Kaifi aur main'. We apologize for the delay . We also regret to inform you that Ms Azmi has been stranded at the Chicago airport due to a snowstorm. She is, as we speak, waiting for the airport authorities to allow flights out of Chicago, it will take her 2 hrs to get here. So you have two options- you can wait here till she comes- which might be as late as 10pm or later(depending on how long it takes for flights to leave Chicago), Or you can request for a refund of your tickets. Again we apologize for the inconvenience and we will keep you posted of her status at regular intervals".

We look at each other with dismay. "Oh, no!"

I recalled the Janasheen episode and bleated " Please S, lets not sit here, she might never show up. Who knows when Chicago will clear flights to take off?"

She : "Hm, lets see for another 30 mins then"

Me(gulp!): "Wokay". And silently settled in the seat to listen to Jaswinder in the interim.

Every 15 mins, the MC would update us with nothing significantly different. "She's still at the airport", "She's VERY upset at this delay", "She's changed her saree and is all set to perform" etc etc. Which meant nothing, really!

45 mins later, we decided to call it quits.

Two sad fans, one that vowed to never use the book again, the other to never use the shawl again.

Footnote : Years later, we managed to watch 15, Park Avenue and Honeymoon Travels featuring our idol-but never at the theaters and never together :). We also did manage to watch Tehzeeb when it finally came out on DVD. Our admiration continues strong to this day and right now moi is contemplating getting a hair cut just like my idol's in Honeymoon travels. Seren, on the other hand, will have none of it!

All walks of life

This year I got a chance to be involved, directly or indirectly, for the first time in some of these walks for a cause.

A friend of mine had signed up for the breast cancer- 3-day walk. 60 miles in 3 days. So I volunteered for this, though what I really wanted to do was to see for myself if I was up to signing up for it next year.

And the other two walks were small ones. 2 miles and 3 miles each. It really wasnt about how far one had to walk- these experiences really go to show the unifying harmony that comes about. There are people that show up for a variety of reasons-some due to personal experiences, some due to the largesse of their hearts, some to cheer for cheering's sake, some to support a loved one, some just because they can and want to. They volunteer to apply bandaids on many a blister, to hand out water and popsicles, to deliver lunch packets, to direct the walkers, to say gentle words of encouragement, to shout out to cheer the sagging spirits.

The walkers themselves come from all walks of life(pun intended). But their spirit is unified for a cause. It doesnt matter who you are or what you do and where you're from. At that point in time, you're all in one place for one cause. And that is the power of masses.

So remember those occassional times when you feel down and have that eerie feeling of being left to yourself and you feel that no one cares for you? Well, when you do find yourself in such a situation, just for kicks go check out one of these events. As an innocent bystander. I can assure you will come back feeling different. Many a time in these past two weekends, I have found a wetness in my eyes as I walked or ran a chore. I've been overwhelmed by the human spirit.

I felt the touch of divinity-up, close and personal.

"We cannot live only for ourselves. A thousand fibers connect us with our fellow men; and among those fibers, as sympathetic threads, our actions run as causes, and they come back to us as effects."
~Herman Melville

A slice of life, a spectrum of emotions

It has been a full week(nah make it a month). Work, housework, paperwork- all that and a lot more. And its brought about a myriad emotions- from anger to frustration to overwhelming pride to pure joy to ecstasy. A good friend recently created a line that sums it all- its now a quote, officially.

"Life is chugging along, through many a bumpy road to make sure we don't fall asleep at the wheel."

PRISM

P is for Proscrastination. Never a good trait.

My PC is currently very sick. Some months of accumulated neglect has rendered it decapacitated. But of course, this is a good time for the external backup hard disk to fail as well. I've been holed in my basement running all kinds of scans and software installs all weekend to resuscitate the ailing PC. The backup disk- I will get to it in my time. It needs a good dressing down. Thanks to Hurricane Kyle, my PC is getting all the attention its been craving for in a long time.

R is Rightfully his.

Appa lost his precious cell phone, AGAIN! No thats not the big news. See, he has this affection for his cell phone that cant be explained in a few words in a blog post. It needs an essay thats worth getting published in the Guardian- cos thats the kind of pride he has for his cell phone. He has used every feature in the said device. He puts Seren and I to shame with our ignorance of the gadgets we own. No one, yes, NO ONE has the right to say ANYTHING about his precious little gadget.

This treasure got lost a few months ago, while he was on his morning exercise break. He had left it in his usual corner of the National College grounds where he has usurped sole user rights. And probably some school kid picked it up. Nonetheless after much angst from Appa's side, the school called and returned the phone to its rightful owner. The relief on Appa's face was priceless.

Apparently last week, it happened again. And this time the chances of getting it back seem rather remote. Cos it was a clear case of pickpocketing in nammoora BTS bus. Ya, ever heard of a pickpocketer returning a cell phone? I havent.

Anyhow, moving along, Seren got him a brand new cell phone this weekend. SIM card has been obtained, his old number transferred over and Amma tells me he plans on getting himself a cell phone case(the ones you can hang around your neck), tucking it inside his banian and making sure it has a tight lid. Well he's using some kind of such a contraption. Cos I called him twice and he didnt answer his phone. Considering he is out of town, I assumed it was out of range. But no, he called Amma right back and asked her to tell me to call him back- apparently it was too late by the time he pulled the phone out of said case- you can imagine how safely its been secreted!

I is for Instant gratification

It being a lazy Sunday morning and thanks to Hurricane Kyle- its been a wet, depressing weekend, I had called home. Amma tells me its Daughter's day and wishes me a very happy one. Now Google doesnt tell me anything of that, but who's to care? If a mom claims its daughter's day today, it is. Period.

So all you moms of daughters out there, go wish your girls a happy one.

S is for Surreality in everyday life.

Remember I'd written about life coming full circle here? Well now its turning into spiral of surreal joys and happiness cos I just heard that one of those two mentioned in the post got engaged recently. And to a girl from our class, thanks to the reunion efforts and rounding up all of us, long-lost schoolmates. This is the kind of stuff you read about in books, see in movies and dont even give it a second thought. But movies and books are made from real life, no doubt. The very same experiences that each one of us goes through at some point in our lives or the other. And thats what miracles are about. Those spontaneous acts of God that are inexplicable and unexpected. I wish them much joy and hope that we could all be there for this special moment in their lives, connected by memories from that time in our lives when our minds were pristine pure and days were uncomplicated.

M is for Making my day.

Elbow room and such other minor points to ponder

* On international flights, I usually opt for a window seat. Thats because 1. Except for occassional walk breaks I stay put in my seat. Which means I am not a bothersome passenger. 2. I prefer to not get bothered by sitting in the aisle seat and having to get up every time the window/middle seaters wish to step out. 3. Aisle seats mean you get poked in your elbow and shoulder by the carts, people and everyone that passes by rudely jolting you out of stupor. Now, I am not a big built person- I am short, slightly overweight and try to keep my elbows off the armrest so as to not inconvenience the neighbor. I've always had this question- how do you share armrests? Is there a undocumented rule on how long you can use the shared armrest before letting the neighbor use it? Any insights?

So this time around I was sitting next to a person from Ghana. Before I launch into this snippet, allow me to mention that I am a bad sleeper on international flights. I hardly get about 1-2 hrs of shut-eye if at all, since I have a huge sleep problem right in my own bed. In an economy class seat, its a miracle I even get this much. After initial pleasantries had been exchanged, the drinks cart had come and gone, special and regular meals served and it was time for some forceful shut-eye. I woke up an hour later with a sore neck to see my neighbour asleep with this head against the seat in front of me. You get the picture. He was diagonally positioned with a lot more than just his elbows against the armrest we shared, his head rested on the back of the seat in front of me, which means I had 1/3 less space and locked in my cramped position. I let out a small yelp, not wanting to wake up the rest of the junta who apparently had no issues drifting into slumber. For the next 15 mins, I tried varying decibels of a yelp. My right leg had decided to take a nap by then and was killing me. I needed a walk. No luck. Then some 30 mins later a stewardess passed by. I flailed my arms at her and requested she help me out by waking Mr Ghana up. She obliged, she patted him on his back hard enough and lo and behold he was awake. I made a hurried exit and hung out as a restroom door guard for considerable amount of time. When I did head back and was comfortably seated, he says "You could've woken me up yourself, you know?". "I did try, you were in deep sleep(I didnt mention the minor fact that he was sprawled all the way into my space, of course)". Any pointers on this elbow room issue? Anyone? Anyone at all?

* So, early in spring of this year I realised I had a dead tree in my front yard. The person that had come to mulch my garden pointed it out to me and kindly offered to have it removed, if I wanted. Well I did want to, but I had to check with the higher powers(aka the Home Owner Association, who have given me some grief when I wished to install a storm door. Now, I was ok getting permission from them for this, but what I didnt understand was why they needed for me to send pictures of how the storm door looks. Well anyway they've got the rules, who am I to question? So I let it be). When I called the officer assigned for this, she insisted she had to come down to "inspect" said tree. Since I was going to be out of the country, she agreed to send an email once she'd inspected to let me know what had to be done. When I got back, and I still hadnt seen any email from her, I called her up. As always she wasnt around and I had to leave a voicemail. 2 days later I received the promised email. It tells me she had come, she had seen and she had measured(there are different rules for tree with varying dimensions, btw, if you care enough to know). She says the tree trunk is more than 4 inches in diameter, the height is bla and bla inches bla bla and bla and I referred to our covenants guide and it says you need to submit an application for approval to get it removed.

"Please print this form out(a 5 page document), get approvals from the inhabitants of all the houses in your row, send us a copy of your house plan, send us pictures of the tree in question, tell us what you plan to plant in place of said dead tree, send us pics of the same, write off your first and second born and promise us you will stand on your head for 3 months till this approval comes through!"

* Why is it that your schoolmates are delighted to be in touch with you after all these years, are so keen on playing catch up on whats been happening in all the years you've been AWOL, check on you ever so often, care and concern pours out of every pore, but your collegemates make no attempts be in touch and what's worse, when you do have some chance encounters, pretend they dont know you and dont even bother to exchange contact information, and even if they do, never bother to call/email? The cherry on the icing is pretending they dont know you, or not divulging they met you. In short, they prefer to think the chance encounter never even happened! Weird, that!

Full circle

Post 5th grade, my father got transferred quite a bit. Until then I had moved on year to year in the same school, to the same section, with the same set of "buddies". There were only about 20-25 students in a class- probably around 16 boys and 8-9 girls. And I was short. Invariably I was a first bencher. Now comes the interesting bit, there were two boys who were about my height as well. The seating configuration was thus. Me sandwiched between these two, year after year, without fail. Hence we became "best friends".

Lunch breaks, games, distractions, getting into trouble and all and sundry was always as a "Team". The two boys were only children to their parents and luckily lived right next door to the school. One of them had his mother handing over a hot lunch box at break time across the common wall that separated the school and his house!

The tiny tidbits of fun that ensued during these wonder years, predictably so, is worth being gold plated for posterity. Each of us have stored many incidents that draw out a chuckle, or a grin, or an irate retort or even a tiny smack! Once I left that school, as is wont at that age when childhood friendship isnt exactly a nostalgic tonic a teenager wants to soak up on, I moved on barely able to conceal my excitement at oncoming life and its challenges and merits. In all the years, I never gave half a thought to how those two boys had turned out. Degree completed, a career to be made, prospects to be explored...so much to do! Who has the time and patience to dwell on sentimentality?

2 years ago, as I was talking to my cousin(not a cousin I interact with regularly), he tells me that I should probably say Hi to someone I know from a long time ago and hands over this phone to said person. After initial pleasantries were exchanged, I discover its my school mate from eons ago. Yes, one of the two "buddies". There was so much catching up to do. We exchanged emails and then that was it. It was a pleasant surprise, and life goes on.

Six months ago, I received an email requesting me to join an e-group of this school. I joined in eager anticipation. For the past few months, its been a nostalgic ride, reconnecting with long lost friends, exchanging updates, posting about every little memory that we could jog out of our jaded cells.

Two days ago, I sent an email to these two asking if we could meet, since I was in town. It was around 7 in the evening. Within an hour, I was picked up by them and a few more they'd gathered en route and off we went for an impromptu dinner get-together. Another girl was also in town from abroad. 6 of us, it was really like good ol' times.......

The dinner outing began quite late in the evening... erm make that VERY late. We set off at 9pm. In a frenzy, amma hands me her cell phone. At 10:30 sharp, having rounded up 2 more long lost classmates, picked a restaurant open long enough for us to eat something decent, the cell rings.

Amma : "Do you plan on coming home tonight?"

Me : "Erm, yes I still live there. There are 6 of us, I am sure one of them will be kind enough to drop me back"

Amma : "Alright, come soon!"

Dinner turns into a loooooooooong guppa session(of course, if you're meeting schoolmates after 20+ years!). Pretty soon its midnight. The cell has rung 2 times by then. We decide to call it a day! As we drive towards my home, Amma calls again.

Amma : "Really, where are you?"

Me : "2 mins from home, be there soon"

I hang up and one of them asks with concern "Do you want us to come in and explain? She must be quite worried"

Erm, worried? Sigh!

Every evening I get a call, asking if I could meet for coffee, cos another classmate was available and wants to meet. I get picked up, dropped off within curfew limit times; they walk up and talk to Amma cos all the moms knew all the students(there were no school buses at that time, it was always parents picking up/dropping off). Some of them bring their kids along, we sit at any random coffee shop that catches our fancy and gossip while the kids play near the fountains.

While I am on my second sip of some Kalmane coffee, Amma calls...

"When do you plan on coming home?"

"Soon ma"

One of them goes "We'll leave in 15 mins ok? Tell your mom not to worry".

What the!!!???

Yes, suddenly....we've all become kids all over again!

All in a day's work

8:30am this morning : As I amble along the walkway that connects the parking lot and the double doors of the building...I see our Exec VP holding the door for me, one after the other.

(Whoa!) "Good morning!" I say cheerily and he smiles back.

Its just the two of us as we head towards the elevator. He rings for it.

Companionable silence ensues as we wait for the elevator. He keeps himself occupied by peering into his blackberry. I gaze at the wide-screen tv in our lobby which airs the latest news. Elevator arrives, he stand by and lets me get in. He gets in, politely asks "Which floor? He punches in his floor and mine, doors close and we stand still to the quiet hum of the elevator. As the doors open for my floor, "Have a nice day!" I wish him as I get off the elevator.

I wait for the doors to close to do a small jig. My day is made! And its only 8:45 in the morning. Simple, yet so impactful, isnt it?

Flashback : About 10 yrs ago I was just beginning my career. Working for a quasi-govt organization, I had to take the company bus that would stop in front of my house at 7:30am. I was a trainee, so my badge screamed like a banshee. It was a bus load of employees, quite senior, veterans both at work and in the bus. The first few rows on the right(three-seaters) were filled with women, the rest were all men. I got in and sat down in the second row(a three seater), an aisle seat. Within a few seconds, the lady next to me tapped me quite abruptly and told me in a stern voice "There's a lady who gets on in the next stop, this is her seat.". "Oh, I am very sorry, I didnt know" said I and got up frantically looking for an alternative. Every vacant seat I sat down at came with an unwritten message that it was someone's seat. But outwardly I saw no signs saying the seats were allotted. Thankfully the next stop was the last before the bus launched on its long drive to the work premise. In a matter of minutes, and of course within a few days I understood the protocol. If you were the junior-most employee(non) you get to wait till the last pickup stop to find out if there were any vacant spots AND then deign to seat yourself. If none were available, one stood- all the way. It was quite evident not even the men wanted to forgo their favorite seats.

Now, after all these years, perhaps I am more tolerant and understanding of where they came from. It is but natural that a trainee was a short-timer. They, on the other hand, were life long travelers. They must've had their set routines, a pre-set combination of people who sat together. Why should some short-timer come and disrupt the comfort of their schedule? Back then, I used to be disgusted. At six months, when I finished the training, I heaved a sigh of relief at getting move on to a REAL job with a better pay and full recognition that I was a respected part of the work force. But it was these experiences that made me tough enough to face the challenges that life brings to one's plate.

Footnote : A long weekend is around the corner. Weather predictions call for warm weather, perfect for inaugarating grill parties and chili cookouts for the year. Blogger also tells me this will be my 250th post. Calls for celebration. Wear your party hats and meet me out in the deck.

A lost art...

...and a window of opportunity!

Letter writing is the only device for combining solitude with good company
~Lord Byron

One of my wishes for this year had been to receive handwritten notes from people, those that normally communicate over e-mediums like email, chat and phone calls. And bless their hearts, quite a few indulged in my simple demand. I cannot begin to describe the pure joy of seeing a handwritten letter in these 21st century days when the mailbox is either filled with junk or bills, neither of which makes checking the mailbox an enticing proposition. One thing that has remained over these years is the fact that there is no guarantee that postal mail will reach a person on a designated day. So through the week I have been receiving these gems and every evening has been a delightful read. As I settle down on my couch with some green tea, the TV remote stays sadly neglected while I tuck in and get ready to flow like a smooth river riding the waves of words that the sender has delivered. Its fascinating to see oneself grin at reading some of the funny lines, concentration at what comes next, what emotion the next line will evoke and what the writer was thinking when s/he penned those lines. Some letters require an instant re-read, some need to be revisited in a few hours, some you pull out and gloss over just to relive the feeling.

I can imagine how it might have been in those days when letters was the primary medium of communication. Every emotion had to be recorded else there was no other way of letting the other person know until a face to face meeting happened.

Then one sits down to return the favor. I speak for myself, but it took a few rough drafts to get used to the feeling of holding a pen and writing. One gets so used to typing and of course the "feature" of backspace. That does not exist when one writes a letter. Striking out words and letters tarnishes the beauty of it. And as one begins to respond, one wonders how the recipient might react and what s/he might say.

These have been a sampling of what this experience has delivered to me. It totally warrants a big THANK YOU to all that indulged me. It was totally worth it and this art should certainly not allowed to become extinct. I present a collage of sepia toned penning.

Letters are among the most significant memorial a person can leave behind them
~Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe






SP is a good friend of mine, an art therapist and artist in her own right. One of her skills is that she delivers a modern day twist to Tanjore paintings and this painting of hers has been my all-time favorite. When she told me some months ago that she had sold it, I was heartbroken. I'd been making secret plans to buy it for myself. It is my favorite for many reasons. One, I love the way she has modernized traditional Tanjore paintings which are usually of Hindu Gods and Goddesses. Secondly, I love the title of the painting and the subject itself. What a wonderful connection. The entire package gleams of hope. There is no doubt one can sense the feeling of liberation that the silhouette must be imagining as she gazes out of the window. So here I present, a 'Window of opportunity' and thus I render my thanks to SP. I am honored and forever grateful for receiving this.




















Miscellany : A coworker of mine gives me this card :

Outside : Girl in a shoe store, checking out the price tag and shrieks "You've got to be kidding me!"
Inside : "I wish you joy, happiness and clearance shoes in your size"

I'd like that! All year through, what more could I ask for?

Two's company

This past week/end has been an unusually hectic one. Work has been busy, some paperwork to be taken care of, and then a surprise visit from an old friend over the weekend.

Its too early to claim, but it must be a season of getting together with long-lost friends. After the dinner out in downtown DC last month with a long-lost ex-coworker, that which I blogged about earlier, here's one more.

Had one of these days? Back in Pre-Univ ....staying past the normal hours of a particularly interesting trigonometry or calculus class, working out some of the exercises, like piecing a jigsaw puzzle together? The thrill of a challenge, the excitement over a succesful solve...sitting under the trees of a college campus lawn. Or walking over to a buddy's house, on the porch and working out the last kinks of a particularly difficult problem? Those late nights, with hindi film music providing for a background score, long discussions ranging from the wonders of algebra, the boring notes of physics, the debates on whether differential calculus was better or integral, whether microprocessors were a boon or a bane.....coffee, respective ammas dishing out piping hot food, served right where you were sitting...room service at its best.

My dear friend S was one such. We both knew what we wanted to graduate in. We had the same goals, we studied together but landed in different colleges for undergrad....and once we graduated, it appears, we each parted ways. Each on a different track, parallel but never in touch.

After all these years(10, to be exact), I miraculously got back in touch with her. Surprisingly not through orkut or facebook, gtalk or blogs....it was by sheer coincidence and by unconventional means. Over the past year, we've corresponded. And she surprisingly was able to come to the US on a year long project to NC, she works in Bangalore. On a busy thursday afternoon, I get a call from her.

She : "What plans for the weekend?"

Me : "Oh, nothing- as usual!"

She : "Hm, well a colleague of mine is visiting his cousin in DC, he wants to know if I want to carpool, should I?"

Me : (amidst balancing a celebratory jig and whoops of joy) "OF COURSE, YOU SHOULD!!!!!"

She :(calmly) " Alright, send me your address and I'll print directions. I'll call you when I start driving from here".

As I hung up, an email from our corporate informs us that if the weather gets too inclement on Friday, we could stay home and not drive under bad road conditions. Schools were declared closed prematurely, it was supposed to ice and rain all day on Friday. I pretended to ignore the severity of weather related warnings.

Thursday evening, after finishing my last gym workout for the week, I decided to finish all my weekly grocery shopping chores. The pantry was stocked up, milk and dairy rations refilled....a good part of the evening was spent in cleaning the house, new sheets for the guest bed and a fresh vase of flowers.

Come Friday morning, thank the Lord, the weather was not as bad as was predicted. It was dull, cloudy, and wet. But not torrential rains or ice storms. As she drove her rental car at 11:30 that evening into my driveway, it all dawned on me. The last I had seen her was at her wedding 10 yrs ago. Then I'd left for Singapore and onwards to the US, she (I assumed) settled into a career and family life. Now, here she was....on her first visit to the US, having driven 5 hrs on her own, in not so perfect weather...just to visit me!

Its been an amazing weeekend, as I took her around to the tourist spots best visited during these cold months...Luray caverns, Ikea (I know! But she wanted to go, and I had to hold her back from plundering the place!) and a museum. While we watched Sa Re Ga Ma and Boogie Woogie on Saturday night, it was like old times. Music, TV, a simple special meal of pulav/raitha and rasmalai- gossip, laughter, catching up. I swear, we had no time to reminisce cos there was so much to catch up on. We probably need another weekend to go down the memory lane.


“Nothing makes the earth seem so spacious as to have friends at a distance; they make the latitudes and longitudes.”
~Henry David Thoreau



Footnote 1 : Last weekend, I managed to catch Jodhaa Akbar in the theaters, a girls outing. I'd recommend it for those a. Who can enjoy screen after screen of HR, in royal glory or b. Enjoy historical period love stories or c. Both a and b.
For attention deficients like me, C would be the right answer.

Footnote 2 : Sadly, I finished the entire series of 8 books in the Mma Ramotswe series by Alexander McCall Smith. I say sadly, because this experience and excitement of having so much to read is very rare. Usually its an uphill struggle to find ONE good book to read, leave alone this many. But I'm already in the waiting list for the next in the series thats due in April. All in all, its been an enjoyable series, I love all the characters, and have fallen more so in love with the Botswana thats described in the book. It really says a lot about the writer.

“Don't be dismayed at goodbyes, a farewell is necessary before you can meet again and meeting again, after moments or lifetimes, is certain for those who are friends.”
~Richard Bach

Shades of gray

For a long time, to me- parting meant I'd never see that person ever again. Everything was digitized- a 1 if I get to see/meet/talk face-to-face regularly, a 0 if they moved away, be it out of town, out of country or out of continent. Somehow it never registered that emails/chat and of course the more recent social networking sites would bridge the gap and make distances seamless. So I'd behave as if they were setting off on a spiritual journey in search of the eternal truth. I'd do lunches and dinners, parting gifts and then bid adieu. More importantly, I'd mentally check them off my mental address books as account closed and move on.

Everything was a black or white. Nothing in between.

Cut to the present.

I recently met an old co-worker, later a good friend, for dinner on a week day evening. He and I worked together, and over the years figured we connected well as friends. From books to movies, travel to food- we could talk for countless hours.

Aside, its a different experience to be in downtown DC on a cold, winter evening and to be that close to the "special house". He was in town for meetings and could spare some hours for a meal. His hotel was located very close to the Mall area, to restaurants, to the Metro and of course right on the political highway. The concierge was extremely helpful and valet parking- courteous and expensive. Armed with a sheet full of handpicked restaurants with plenty of veggie options, we set forth. As we walked the streets, it all felt surreal. Many years ago, when I bid adieu to this buddy I would never have imagined so many years hence, I'd be having dinner in downtown DC with him. Of course, we've been in touch...over email...for some years now. But it was mostly over New Year wishes and Diwali greetings. He has travelled all over the world. From the middle-east, to EU, from Norway to South America. He works as a management consultant and hardly stays at home in his apartment in downtown London. His wife travels extensively as well, so he tells me. Again, an air of surreality hangs heavy like a thick blanket. All I can think for the moment was "who would've thunk!".

The restaurant, true to the concierge's word, had plenty of veggie options for me. The service staff was courteous, noiselessly moving around serving and clearing away. The food and the location was right off what you'd see in gourmet restaurants in food network shows and culinary magazines. Conversation was smooth and effortless. Like fitting into an old glove and feeling the comfort and camaraderie. There was plenty of catch up on, after all how much can one be up-to-date with these new fangled emails and chats?

The only part that hurt was the going dutch part. Expensive couldnt even begin to quantify the price. That, coupled with valet parking and a handsome tip, I can safely conclude, I couldnt afford to do this on a regular basis. But once in a while, for a worthy cause such as this...meeting an old friend, for good ol' times' sake....definitely definitely worth it!

Like that ad says, for everything else there's Mastercard.

So why have I rambled along having started off with something about black and white, 0's and 1's? Well what I meant to say was, now I am quite comfortable in saying goodbyes without striking them off the mental address book. I am willing to wait and bide my time for such chance meetings...when it all feels like nothing has changed. Somehow, sometime, some place, I will run into each one of them. And when I do, life doesnt appear to be as stark any more. Its all about the shades of gray.

And of course, till then there's email and chat, facebook and orkut and such other (s)craps.

TGIF and apparently, the sweet smell in the winter air is mostly nostalgia.

How much...

...is too much?

When someone consistently doesnt keep their word, does one then give up hope? Cos to me giving up hope is tantamount to losing faith. And I always place immense implicit faith in people I interact with regularly. Not making much sense, am I?

Well lets start at the beginning, always the best place to start. I have this tendency to take people for their word. For example, if someone tells me(and this is not some passerby on the road) they would be stopping by my place sometime in the afternoon, I expect that between the hours of noon and 5pm, they would be coming. A more specific time would be good, but I'll take this broad window, no biggie. So 6pm comes and goes, 7..8... no word. No word all night. Next day, out of frustration I call and ask whats the word. And I get " Oh! I got so busy with x and y and z, I couldnt make it!".

Example 2 : Someone tells me "I will try to swing by some time next week and drop it off". Again a very wide chasm of waiting time....but alright, lets just play along. Again, no show. "Oh, I couldnt find the time". And I am usually tempted to say "I nearly choked holding my breath for this long!".

Example 3 : "I will get it to you when I am there." You guessed it right. Again, no show. "Oh, I forgot to bring it along. Sorry!".

Most times I am not unreasonable. I do understand its not abnormal to forget, to misplace, to be rushed for time and hence unable to keep one's word. But doing it every time makes me want to conclude that one just should not be committing to anything. Like a quote I remember from a long time ago, its better to do and not promise than to promise and not do.

"There's a difference between interest and commitment. When you're interested in doing something, you do it only when circumstance permit. When you're committed to something, you accept no excuses, only results"

And of course, promise is too big a term to define these incidents. But still, keeping one's word however trivial, is a conscientious effort. Unless an earth shattering emergency has occurred, it is very rarely that I slip on my word. Or I just dont commit, unless I am quite sure I will deliver. And I hold others accountable to the same standards. Maybe that is just a flaw in me! Perhaps the other party feels good about themselves when making such promises, however big or small. Because you see, when proposes to do something, one sets up an expectation in the other. Now one can argue that its wrong to expect, its better to take it as it comes. Why commit then? Again it circles back to being true to your word(s).

Or perhaps such people expect that the promisee would appreciate the commitment and hence give their word. No biggie if they couldnt or didnt keep the word. If for that instant the promisee felt good, maybe the lip service was worth it.

I dont know, I dont know which of it is the absolute truth.

“When a man repeats a promise again and again, he means to fail you” - Proverb

Either way, it bothers me. Like I said, giving up on these individuals means losing faith. And that is a HUGE deal for me.

“Promises may fit the friends, but non-performance will turn them into enemies.” -Benjamin Franklin

To do as they say and to get what they get

To be forewarned : In this post I will be complaining about my disasters in the kitchen(fortunately with no pictures to prove), thanks to the dishes posted by food bloggers that make it so easy, simple and quick to make, that tempt me endlessly to dare to attempt.....errrr not so much!

I love following posts from food bloggers. I am terribly impressed by the hard work they put in, their unflailing enthusiasm to participate in blog events, to untiringly innovate and simplify. Yes, this Thanksgiving, I had wished to submit my humble thanks for all their efforts. I bookmark some of the interesting(and simple sounding) recipes on ye faithful del.icio.us(how wonderful a coincidence is that! food posts bookmarked on delicious!) and try them at my leisure. Some are successes and I immediately leave a comment thanking them for producing such gems, some are disasters like this following episode. But none the less, my rss aggregator is alive on a daily basis with posts from these master chefs. The ones that probably will read this post are two of my favorite bloggers Jugalbandi and Asha. Of course, who in food blog world, has not heard of them? So I will stop mouthing eulogies about these two greats.

Coming to my story. After I returned from my India trip, while I lovingly unpacked the myriad podis and thokkus, sorted them into containers, refridgerated, stocked, air-sealed, I unwittingly launched into a pantry audit. You know those times when you have no clue what ingredients co-exist in your own pantry and some fancy sounding recipe calls for a particular item and you go and buy them instantly, dish gets done and you realise you had two packets of the same item languishing in your pantry after all? Has this happened to you too? No? Well I must be the only inefficient homemaker. So thus I cleaned the containers, made a pretty list of all the items that I do possess, whats in excess, what is needed and so on and so forth.

So, cutting a long story short, I found 5 of these containers. I am sure each of these items were bought with a purpose....one or another recipe that I oh-so-desperately wanted to try. Now I dont remember which recipes those were, or how the dishes turned out. But in this country, with having to buy at least a pound sized bag of anything....I have 5 bottles of "whole green gram", "split green gram", "whole black urad", "moth dal" and "masoor dal".

Now my regular, weekly cooking consists of rotis, daals with vegetable(of the kootu/kurma fame), sabjis, salads/raithas and an odd dessert-like item. Since these 5containers dont hold ingredients that I need/use on a daily basis, the recipes that demand their use dont belong in my weekly repertoire of culinary projects, they've been idling in the pantry for as long as a year, if I remember right. I am now tempted to start a contest-challenge to these food blogger experts. To make a dish with these 5 items and show me a winner. So these items feel useful, and not gossip at night about what a waste and a terrible cook their owner is.

I do enjoy baking, though. For others. Like if someone's birthday is coming up, one would find me measuring and mixing and baking a decent tasting cake. But in general I suck at the decorating part. Most times, the receiver is disappointed at the sorry looking cake though will immediately rave about the taste....cos all said and done, it does taste good. And again, these baking recipes are all thanks to different food bloggers, whose recipes, their writeups and irresistible photos drive one to immediately don an apron and do the needful.

Cut to chase, our jugalbandi pair recently posted this d.e.l.i.c.i.o.u.s looking, simple-sounding cake. I mean, all said and done, it says its a war-time cake. No one stocks up on fancy ingredients right? So it must consume simple ingredients, be simple to make and hence an easy challenge for us types, right? Wrong, Wrong and Wrong. I have a good mind to parcel this to Bee herself, with my best season's greetings.

This is what happened, I mixed and matched, sifted and sorted, blended and pulsed...followed the recipe to the T...T-shirt I mean(the apron was in the laundry, so it all landed on my T-shirt, silly!). And then it all went into my prize possession...my 6-speed mixer....my one-stop solution for all well-rising cakes. After a good amount of mixing, it went straight into a well-greased baking dish, then into the oven....and all was left was a 30 minute wait for the wonderful warm aroma of "fruit-and-nut" war cake. A decent amount of good dried fruit and nuts had found their way into this creation.

40 mins later, when no smells wafted from the oven, I peeked. And what I saw was a disappointing, flat pancake-like thing! I poked a fork into it and it was quite done. I pulled the "item" out, left it to cool. Some hours later.....do you know how a cardboard mixed with fruit and nut would taste? I do....cos thats what my "cake" had turned into.

And the very next day, I tried out another cake, from another blogger lady. Needless to say, that was a disaster as well. Hence I will refrain from baking any cakes for the rest of the year. Most likely my cake baking jinx has been turned on.

Cookies though have turned out pretty well. I shall stick to these, while the going is good.

Footnote : You know, about those cakes....shhhhhhh......lets let the food bloggers continue to squirm....but it was really cos I mixed up labels for the "all-purpose" and "Bisquik-pancake mix" containers....yea, I know- I suck ;).

So, how YOU doing?

Nettle mettle- The morning drive

6:30 am Monday : Alarm goes off

Headnote : N for neutral, P(forward) for positive and R(reverse) for negative mental gears.

N : Sigh, Monday, AGAIN!

P : Well its been a fun weekend- 3 days of partying and binging on Diwali snacks.

N : Hm, Monday morning gym class, fun!

R : Curl up and go back to bed. Its cold and wet outside, its only 6:30. You can tuck in 2 solid hours of snooze.

P : You have only one week left for the vacation. No better reason to pack in 4 gym days this week. And if you go this morning, you have the entire evening to yourself. You're up already, just get going........

N : Alright alright, lets go.

15 mins later, submit all gears and oneself to Patty's program at 7am. Her class is aptly named 'Target- ( that which most women dont like to talk about-which I shall refrain from spelling, to avoid those "googlers" that will definitely land upon my harmless post) and thighs'. In that one hour's span Patty comes across as a taskmaster rivalling the Nazi brutes.

8:15 am : Back home.

P : Phew, thats a relief to be over and done with for today. 3 more days to go.

N and R share a grin as the hands load up a plate of this combo :

4 thatte/nipattu
2 chakli
2 badam-pista burfi
1 besan laddu.

N : Lets skip the coffee, in lieu of "the diet"

The End.

Got breakfast?

This morning, over a very simple breakfast of cornmeal upma and coffee, I launched into an unusual line of thought that invariably took me on a ramble and if I were to be literally walking, I'd probably have reached work. See, whats unusual is the fact that I dont do breakfast. Yes yes, all ye that preach that "breakfast is the first meal of the day, one should never skip breakfast...bla bla bla" Alright, I got it. But I believe I know and understand my tummy and its requirements pretty well and hence I conclude I dont need breakfast. A healthy and wholesome lunch at noon suffices. The next meal is around 7pm and that would be ...... I think that would be what the Brits would call supper.

So I googled on breakfast, just like some people read a newspaper, some watch tv and catch up on the latest headlines....yes I sit in front of my PC and browse for random stuff(ok, all of you can stop rolling on the floor now- this is an established quirk!).

Friendly neighbourhood Wiki showed details about the different kinds of breakfasts around the world and it even mentioned our own idli-dosa-vada. My own personal favorite is Continental. Very mention and you'll find me dropping every diet and exercise ever created and rushing for the closest buffet table. One of the best I've had so far is at the Ritz in Singapore. The breakfast buffet(which included Continental as well as Asian fare) started at 6am and lasted till 11am. Another hour and one might as well stay on for lunch!

My next favorite would HAVE to be idli-vada-sambar from any Darshini in Bangalore and more specifically from Brahmin's cafe in Shankarpuram(droooooool!!).

No talk of breakfast can be complete without mentioning Amma's breakfast specials. Her akki rotti, dosa and puri/sagu fare makes up for all the clinking and clanking of vessels and all other usual noises that arise from a kitchen at 5am in the morning.

So while I was browsing wiki, (if you notice), on the right hand side is a panel that reads thus :

Common meals...
Breakfast
Second breakfast
Elevenses
Brunch
Tiffin
Lunch
Tea
Dinner
Supper
Dessert
Snack

Hrm, common meals? I mean how common is it to have a second breakfast? Or Elevenses? And if one were to have every meal listed above in one day, one would probably have to spend the next several days in the loo!

Heck, I eat just 2 out of the 11 listed, and I still cant control my weight!!!

Sheesh, life just aint fair, I tell ya!

That aside, what's YOUR favorite breakfast?

Oh, the irony

Poetry.

Not a favorite with my temperament. Whenever amma quoted some lines from Shakespeare or an ode of Wordsworth's, I'd cringe. I would detest those poem learning tasks that the teacher would assign and the primary reason was that I believed that what could be told in few words would ramble into a poem of so many words. I guess I preferred to be the word Midas or word Nazi, as the case may be.

That still didnt help me to evade learning poems by rote or having poetry taught in the school syllabus. So to that effect, I do remember a sizeable chunk of poetry.

And when I reached college, I was only too ready to take up the Science train and be rid of poetry altogether. Not a bad deal, at all. I'll take boring biology to verbose verse any day!

Eventually, over the years, I have begun to appreciate ghazals(definitely a version of poetry) and to this day, I am amazed I took to ghazals as effortlessly as a duck to water. But I never went back to revisit my feelings towards poetry. Until today...until I took this random quiz.....until I answered all the seemingly innocuous questions it asked and voila!

You Should Be A Poet

You craft words well, in creative and unexpected ways.And you have a great talent for evoking beautiful imagery...Or describing the most intense heartbreak ever.You're already naturally a poet, even if you've never written a poem.

What Type of Writer Should You Be?

Letter from Amma

My dear Altoid,

He said he couldnt come over today, so will call him next week and fix a time.
(!!@#&^^%%%% if you are asking what kind of a start this could be to a letter, well its obvious you dont interact much with my mater....Seren and I have years of experience and catch on to random trains of thought like wildfire) I have been down with a cold and cough. I went to the doctor and he has prescribed antibiotics, which I dont need/believe in. I prefer the quack that lives 50 kms away to the certified doctor across the street, cos the quack gives me colored potions that make me throw up all the impurities and cleanses my system. Faith healing is quite a strong antidote, you know. But what to do, the doctors themselves dont believe in it. Hope you are doing fine and eating right and exercising regularly.

The "maestri"(that would be the handyman, I believe- loosely translated) had come and swindled us of 300Rs, he took away the stash of cement that we had kept aside to build the second mansion on top of the one we have..... please dont let your father know, he'll ask to file for divorce papers right away. I cant afford to fight an international matrimonial law suit. The roof is still leaking, I am not able to pay for more than 25 buckets to catch the water. The maestri says thats a new type of roof design.

She said that eating taro root everyday will cure you of all diseases you have and will ever have in your life(!@@^****((%$!). The password has been changed and she has not shared it with me. And then she yells at me saying I am technically challenged. Who has the time to do tags?
(Ha! you, the innocent readers, didnt catch it, did you? SHE is talking about two different people in these 3 lines. If you didnt get that, you really dont need to be reading further, cos most likely NOTHING else will make sense!).
Have you checked your brain lately? You know after a certain age, one should get all mental and physical faculties checked at regular intervals. Ok, it is now charred and your sister will scream if I present this to her for dinner. I have to make rotis without oil for her too. She behaves as if I never cook for her.....btw what color are the flowers in the big shrub thats in the third spot away from the creeper against the wall? Have you gotten a fresh batch of strawberries...dont forget to water the poinsettias regularly. Please dont forget to use MiracleGro, its true to its name and very soon you will have a thriving garden. You know, he never calls back and emails to him keep bouncing. I am not sure if its a hyphen or underscore in his email id. Maybe it is both? Can you find out on the internet what his email is and let me know?

Ok, my students have arrived at the doorstep and they have exams next week. I wont be sleeping for the next two weeks worrying about their results and how it will affect my image. Take care of yourself and please write. I find it difficult to browse your blog for updates because I dont know what she does but sometimes I cant find the website easily in explorer.

Love
Amma

Wishing well from a well-wisher

During a recent conversation with a good friend, I realized there was this one thing she wished to have....badly. "I'd kill to own one of those" she said. But being as thrifty as she is, she winces at the high cost of the ones found at county fairs and countryside flea markets.

I believe I am a moderately materialistic person. While I dont splurge(too often!), if there is something that catches my fancy, I do try to indulge them. Agreed, I am still trying to cut corners and save for the macro lens(which I had posted about asking for contributions and as is evident, was fruitless) for my more-sacred-than-life camera. But I believe no one should pine for something that strongly for too long. So I decided to help her out, especially since her birthday was just around the corner.

Ebay was my first stop and within a few minutes I'd found the right one for her and placed a bid. In two days my bid was accepted, paid the pal(Ecommerce zindabad)and the seller was well on his way to ship the item out.

Some ten days later(since I was travelling) my neighbor brought a 4'x2'x1/2' package that she had picked up from my doorstep in my absence(God bless her). Erm! Gulp! went I. Cos you see, I had ordered a.........................wishing well planter and the package seemd nothing that could fit one!

A few minutes later the realization thunderbolt struck me....it was a do-it-yourself kit. While I unpacked the contents, I was reminded of my past experiences with woodworking and self-assembled furniture. My first attempt was a computer table....I assembled it with my signature style...it swayed from side to side . Finally I had to discard it in our apartment trash yard, cos no one would buy it at the yard sale. The study table I have now was NOT assembled by yours truly. I asked for help and stayed away from deriving any pride for putting together a work of art.

The bookshelf was no different....swayed and sashayed as well. But for that, I had an easy fix. Its been propped against a wall for many years now. It has survived, thus far.

All these thoughts came gushing out of my memory, as I unpacked the myriad different pieces and nuts and bolts. BYOS, the package declared in bold print.(Bring your own screwdriver). Aha, time to bring out the new drill, I rejoiced. See, I am now the proud owner of a new drill- one that will make any tool-obsessed, home-improvement-addicted, home depot/lowes-loving male proud!

After a few days of heavy duty carpentry, I have come to one conclusion. The instruction booklet which makes the assembly look simple and obvious is very clearly intended for professionals. I remember at least 10 times when I've had to screw/unscrew to get it right. Some rounds have been "DOH" moments, when I've realised the right technique AFTER having tightened about 10 screws!

Long story short, last night(this has been my daily evening routine, in place of quiet reading time, post-dinner) I have a final product....Voila!

This goes to C, for her birthday and Altoid gets to have two scoops of Haagen Dazs pistachio icecream for a job well done. This end-product has been quality tested and no swaying and sashaying have been found so far. No pieces are falling apart, I dont have any pieces left unused, all screws have been set and for now, all seems well with the assembly world.
After the grand reveal I will be sending special prayers to the woodwork Gods to not let me down by making the planter fall apart when a plant gets placed. On second thoughts, perhaps I need to test that as well.

"The object of most prayers is to wangle an advance on good intentions" ~ Marley Bob

A day for the Acharya

Like I mentioned in this post, one of the best things that India has is Teacher's day(5th of Sept) thanks to our ex-President, Dr Radhakrishnan.

"Teaching is the profession that teaches all the other professions." ~Author Unknown

So true isnt it? No knowledge is sans a teacher some where, some time, some place. And each of us has memories- fond or otherwise of our teachers from kindgergarten to school to university. And those that turn out to be teachers, one of the noblest professions and definitely not the easiest. Even as I moved abroad, I realise that a teacher's life is that of the daily unsung heroes, those that slog and toil, being overworked and underpaid everywhere around the globe. That it takes a big soul with a bigger heart to decide to become a teacher.

I launch into a rollcall- of the teachers that will always stay in my memory.

Miss Bulloch - My class teacher in primary school. I have no idea what she taught, her face always remains in my memory as resemblin, literally, a bull.

Miss Linnie- My English teacher in middle school. She was the first teacher to instil in me the habit of using a dictionary. She'd insist on never giving out meanings of words just so we'd get off our lazy behinds and use the dictionary. Not only was she a wonderful English teacher, she'd also make wonderful greeting cards with pressed flowers which she'd sell to her students for a mere pittance. Remarkable lady and a great teacher. I have no idea where/how she is now.

Miss Manjula - My class teacher through middle school. Tall, dark, smart and terribly good looking :). She was my idol and a feast for the eyes. Its so good to see a well dressed teacher, and that she was.

Miss Damayanti - My science teacher in high school. The only way I'd learn physics and chemistry and biology.

S. Nagaraj - My math teacher in college. No one else has had me this interested in Math and score well and outdo myself as this Sir. He passed away a couple of years later. May he SO RIP.

And last but definitely cannot be the least, my resident teacher- my own mother, a chance to peek into the other side of a teacher's life and times. Like she says, in her profile, she was born to rule, but forced to teach and somewhere along the way she fell in love with it. Teaching reminds me of the papers that we'd add up numbers for Amma, the many different practice sessions that she'd teach us to prepare for her next day's classes, her first interview class, the house filled with test and exam papers- monthly, quarterly, annuals, report cards, pens strewn all over the house, Amma leaving early for her school Independence day/Republic Day celebrations- so many memories.

And of course, she will always run into one or more students at the many malls and hangout joints of Bangalore- the glee on her face, her confused look at failing to recall the student's name- totally entertaining :). Of course, one of the weird quirks of fate, I know I will never or can be a teacher. So the children of the world are spared, and how!

Acharya devo bhava!
Edited to add : Since I couldnt recall his name, I had to call in on advanced resources(aka Amma) for this name : Mr. Govindraj(4th standard). Within a few weeks of entering his class, he took one look at my wonderfully cursive writing and declared that I'd be the first to graduate from pencil to pen! Boy, was I gleaming my way out of the school gates that day to announce the great news to Amma and proceed immediately to a stationery store and procure my first pen!! Oh, the joy and such sweet memories.

Alto-no-moto

"Honey, try to get both the hands and the feet."

"Lets try it again today, this time make sure you go slowly, eventually you'll get a hang of it..."

"Maybe you should stop being so conscious of it, and do it with abandon.."

So works Debbie patiently in each class.

No, I havent signed up for Bharatnatyam lessons. Merely gym classes, to shed weight. Unfortunately Debbie is one of those that wont give up. But then, she doesnt realise that she's met her match in me. I wont ever get it either.....that I can coordinate my hands and feet action for a perfect and harmonious waltz rather than seeming like crude and plain exercise.

I am beginning to be more convinced as each day passes that my hands/feet coordination capabilities suck...and real bad at that!

***Flashback begins****
A 6 yr old girl sits with great trepidation in front of a mousey lady with two outsized front teeth. The lady in question has a scowl on her face and the girl quivers as she pulls her smart smocked frock some more across the ankles and wishes she could go back in time to wear full length paavadai/blouse. As lesson 1 begins, the hands begin to shake, the voice gets squeaky and the scowl deepens into a glare.

"Oh Lord, WHEN are you going to stay on track?? How many more days do I have to endure this torture???? Wasting precious time and money!!!!! I swear the girls of today have no seriousness or interest......" she yells and lands a sharp pinch on the girl's uncovered thighs as the blue smocked dress that her mother lovingly dolled her up in rides up the ankles at such a very opportune moment. Bare flesh is a welcome chance for nips, so the young girl notes to self.

That was me, all of 6 yrs old and these were snippets of my jaunt with learning Carnatic music. She was my first music teacher and the whole sequence lasted about 4 years or so. I was still not scarred enough to stop lessons...cos Paati had immense faith in my croonability and hence Amma would coax and cajole me into enduring the 45 mins of what was tantamount to the torture chamber for a little girl.

After moving around quite a bit, due to Dad's transfers, there were some breaks and makes in the tutelage with varied teachers and varying results and finally when we came back to homeground, I was a cantankerous teenager and could have nipped the old teacher with kind returns , thanks to my mood swings. When it was time to enter college, I decided to call it quits. Paati had given up by then and resigned herself to the fate that her favorite grandchild just wasnt cut out for this extreme skill.

Between being 6 and being a teenager I gained a kid sister and thus began a love-hate connection that was quite memorable in its own right, while it lasted. Now, we are as thick as thieves and nothing could make us wish ill for and of each other.

She was Miss twinkle toes right from the day she was born, and it only aided her case by starting lessons early. By the time she was 5, she was her dance teacher's pet and had her first dance performance. She was short for her age, so all of 3 feet and then some, fair, with doe-eyes and innocent smile- she brought out many a melted heart and "Awww so cute" responses. And from then on I was hooked to dance. In the sense, I loved watching dance performances. To this day, I immerse myself completely in watching any kind of dance- be it salsa, tap dance, tango, Bharatnatyam, Odissi, Kuchipudi- I can sit enthralled for long hours and never bat an eyelid. Its close to an out of body experience for me.

(Meaningless)Guilt drove Amma many a time to register me in dance lessons each one of them, an exercise in futility with two major issues. One being clumsy footwork and the second being bad hands/feet synchronization. The only venture that came to somewhat success was a year's worth of tap dancing lessons. Cause 50% of the issue was taken out of the equation due to the fact that there were no hand movements involved. The feet managed to respond favorably, and 4 semesters' worth of lessons were successfully completed.

***Flashback ends****

Footnote : No, I dont tap dance in public, I have forgotten most of what I learned, and NO I will not humiliate myself by showing any one any of it.

So Miss Twinkle Toes has grown by leaps and bounds now and a mind of her own, I might add. Ergo she has an opinion and/or prejudice about anything and everything. She no longer looks a kid sister, rather a fiery, spicy jalapeno on the outside, a warm and kindred soul inside. Why am I heaping praise on her? Nothing to do with sororal love and all that load of crap....the real reason is cos there one big smack coming...much like those pinches from Teacher #1, remember?

And just when I figured dance isnt a lost cause in the family....she goes and stops all pursuit of dancyness. Just like that, cos she can!
Hence she deserves to be whacked with a whip or some equivalent miss-treatment.

I'll be back with a tool that really hurts, nips dont cut it no more!

-An armed mint.