CeeKay – Thank you for two things:
One: for having given me this opportunity to be openly judgmental.
Two: for giving me fodder to blog.
To be openly judgmental is indeed a luxury because I take effort to be otherwise- simply because from experience I’ve realised that each individual feels as strongly as me on an issue and it is very rare that somebody is converted and expressing my stand has often proved exhausting and leaves a bad taste, so I tend to go my way without ruffling feathers. At the most I vent to DH and by the time I’m done with it, I’m fine with everything. So for once let me relax my self -vigil and have a go at it. I must add that some of the statements are relevant to the place I live.
1.. I’m judgmental about people who think, talk, breathe and live for cooking only. I was fine with it long ago, and used to enjoy experimenting with recipes once upon a time but prolonged exposure to people who talked only about cooking, about feeding people, finding mistakes in others cooking – nothing else- we used to spend almost the entire day cooking and receiving guests. The afore-mentioned people were very critical and did not hesitate to make insensitive comments in gatherings. Needless to say, I developed an unhealthy antipathy towards cooking, feasts and related topics. However, I’ve no problem appreciating people who enjoy cooking as yet another part of life along-with other interests.
2.. I’m judgmental about people who are too much into rituals blindly- and imposing them on others who may not be into it. I’ve been expected to do certain things which I’m not too comfortable with. I try to avoid such situations as far as possible. These people are so confident about it and it never even occurs to them that others may not subscribe to the same beliefs.
3.. I’m judgmental about people who keep asking me how much I paid for the things I buy- ranging from vegetables, groceries to other household items. They then explain to me how I was conned and could’ve landed better bargains had I consulted them.
4.. I’m judgmental about people who mispronounce words, especially when they use the softer sounds in place of accented sounds. E.g.: using ‘k’ in place of ‘kha’ and the like. Same goes for pronunciations like using ‘la’ or ‘ra’ sounds in place of ‘zha’ (like vaLa paLam instead of vazha pazham). I get unreasonably put off with such things.
5.. I’m judgmental about people who judge according to caste/ religion/ region/ financial status/food habits. To actually hear people (highly educated people too ) pass some petty comments based on caste differences kind of shocks me that people still think and behave this way.
6.. I’m judgmental about people who use foul cuss words in casual conversations. This is perhaps because in my family we don’t use several words. We don’t use those words pertaining to certain parts of our anatomy! Can you believe that!
Then we don’t even use the vernacular equivalent for ‘tu’ (in Hindi) even when talking to our youngers.The young girls- young enough to be my daughters- in my dance class are so exasperated with me because I use ‘neenga’, ‘vaanga’ ‘ponga’ with them. I’m practising to use ‘ni’, ‘va’, ‘po’ with them. My husband is no different; his most violent expletive is ‘kumblanga’ which is the Malayalam for ‘cucumber’!! When he uses this ‘cuss’ word, I know he’s real mad! Go figure! However he is comfortable with the usage of ‘ni’, ‘va’ ‘po’, so he is slightly better. Guess it is just a matter of conditioning. I experience cultural shock when I hear people around me calling their babies ‘naai’ (meaning dog) with overflowing affection! Actually I think I’ve stopped judging people who do this- because I realise I ‘m the strange one here. :- (
7.. I’m judgmental about people who are very suspicious about interaction between the genders.
8.. I’m judgmental about people who are pessimistic, negative, and envious.
9.. I’m judgmental about people who are too overconfident bordering on arrogance, and who seem condescending.
10.. I’m judgmental about people who come across as extremely over smart, over exuberant trying to seem soooo friendly and ‘extrovertish’. Most anchors- esp. those telephone in programmes on TV give me this impression. I experience a kind of sadistic delight in subjecting myself to their 'joie de vivre' and then seethe and squirm!
Having read most of the other tags, I’ve dared to come up with my eccentric tendencies in the hope that I’ll be forgiven and welcomed with open arms by my blogger friends. Now, let me self-tag myself to do the other one about what I admire in others – a fervent attempt to undo atleast some of the damage done by this one.
Saturday, July 21, 2007
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
The Most Happening tag
I was tagged by Usha M at Sulekha and by Punds here. And those who’ve had the patience to read my blogs all through since 2003, I guess there are no more facts left to be unearthed about me. Still let me try to come up with a few more random facts about me.
1. When I come across an interesting word, I’ve a habit of trying to translate it into the languages I know- and I’m thrilled when I succeed in finding an appropriate word.
2. When I’m in a foul mood, I can ‘see’ my expression like I were a spectator- and I ‘watch’ the proceedings with loathing and helplessness. Needless to say, it only serves to sour my mood further.
3. I have this dream of attending workshops in Dramatics, Creative Writing, and Performing Arts.
4. I can be the most withdrawn, sullen person at some times and the most exuberant, vivacious, guffawing person at other times!
5. I’m almost 40 now and still at some moments I can be extremely shy/coy and this embarrasses me no end.
6. When I’m by myself, I hate to abide by the clock or any kind of routine but I ‘m careful about sticking to time when it involves others.
7. I used to be a chatterbox once, but nowadays I don’t feel inclined to talk much. There are times when I almost start to utter something and stop even before I begin.
8. Phone calls (esp. when it’s unexpected) from dear friends make my day- the rest of the day I float in happiness and remembered joy. But I worry that perhaps I had not expressed my delight enough.
Since this tag has been doing the rounds rather freely, anybody who feels inclined to take up the tag and hasn’t been tagged, please feel free to do it.
1. When I come across an interesting word, I’ve a habit of trying to translate it into the languages I know- and I’m thrilled when I succeed in finding an appropriate word.
2. When I’m in a foul mood, I can ‘see’ my expression like I were a spectator- and I ‘watch’ the proceedings with loathing and helplessness. Needless to say, it only serves to sour my mood further.
3. I have this dream of attending workshops in Dramatics, Creative Writing, and Performing Arts.
4. I can be the most withdrawn, sullen person at some times and the most exuberant, vivacious, guffawing person at other times!
5. I’m almost 40 now and still at some moments I can be extremely shy/coy and this embarrasses me no end.
6. When I’m by myself, I hate to abide by the clock or any kind of routine but I ‘m careful about sticking to time when it involves others.
7. I used to be a chatterbox once, but nowadays I don’t feel inclined to talk much. There are times when I almost start to utter something and stop even before I begin.
8. Phone calls (esp. when it’s unexpected) from dear friends make my day- the rest of the day I float in happiness and remembered joy. But I worry that perhaps I had not expressed my delight enough.
Since this tag has been doing the rounds rather freely, anybody who feels inclined to take up the tag and hasn’t been tagged, please feel free to do it.
Monday, July 16, 2007
Blessings
My Guru gave me yet another opportunity to perform on two more stages in the span of a week ( Bharathanatyam recitals) as a part of our Dance school troupe. That makes it the eighth stage performance in the last one year! I find it hard to believe.
I enjoyed every moment.
I enjoyed the company of the young girls- young enough to be my daughters and yet they did not make me feel my age. I enjoyed the camaraderie, the light hearted banter- the leg pulling- though I was more of the amused, indulgent spectator. The friendly orchestra members, the family atmosphere.
I enjoyed the travel to the venues in a spacious van – with a movie playing which I watched intermittently with half open eyes and gave me a headache further on. I enjoyed the eating together in a small, clean abandoned wayside temple premises which we left even cleaner. I enjoyed the make up sessions, the mutual helping with the cumbersome costumes, the laughter, the giggles, the excitement coupled with nervousness as we waited backstage for our turn. The clasping of hands and praying together with closed eyes before the programme commenced, the amused stares of the people around and finally the Magic while on stage.
I enjoyed the trepidation in my heart, the glare of the lights, the feel of the stage below my feet, the sound of the ringing applause, the presenting of mementos, the clicking of photos.
I enjoyed the words of reassurance that my Guru spoke after each item, the thrill of achievement as a team …I enjoyed the scramble to unfasten the millions of pins and threads from the hair, the removal of layers of make up- the hurried dress change, and then finally the voracious attack at dinner packets. And finally the tired, yet relaxed homeward journey through the night as some of us slept and others talked. I savoured the mutual playful raillery of mistakes made, all of us fatigued and yet happy.
The two stages were as different as could be in every way- while one was so small that we were a crowd on it. It was a rickety one with criss cross beams covered by heavy mats- and we could feel gaping holes beneath our feet- my Guru was so worried that one of us would fall through the holes that we practically tiptoed gingerly through our steps. Here, there were a couple more stages close by with other performances going on simultaneously and as a result our musicians had a tough time playing by shruthi, making themselves heard- we mostly danced by a sense of feel and memory rather than actually hearing the music to which we were playing. Nothing could be done about it though because it was festival time! A new learning experience!
The next stage was so sprawling that we looked like ants on a football field! We danced (ran) across the length and the breadth of the yawning space called the stage. Here, however the sound system, the organising everything was perfect and we reigned over the arena. Another experience.
DH picks me up early next morning from my Guru’s place and I sleepily recount to him about how the programmes went, on the drive back home. Once home, I look for my sons-talk gibberish - they ask me questions which I answer hardly knowing what I’m saying. I then have a bath and then hit the bed and then it’s the proverbial log.
DH cooks breakfast and lunch, the boys help him. (Thankfully both the times it was Sunday after the programmes being on Saturday). I’m woken up at Breakfast and then lunch time and though I protest and plead that I want no food- only sleep- I’m literally dragged to the dining table and made to eat. I go back to slumber land again- and by early evening I’m more coherent and sensible.
One thing I realise though is that now at this age, while I’m dancing I’m too conscious about not forgetting my steps or missing my cue and so sometimes I miss out on enjoying letting go and to just emote - the technical nuances requires me to be so totally alert that I 'm not able to indulge in my passion for expression. I suppose it must be due to my age.
The Alta (red dye used to adorn the feet and hands ) on my palms and feet have almost faded but the memories of the experience will remain forever- and for that I’ve lots of people to thank for- My guru of course, the young girls with whom I learn, and who help me out…my most supportive and encouraging DH, my sons…and everybody else in my family …and The Almighty.
I enjoyed every moment.
I enjoyed the company of the young girls- young enough to be my daughters and yet they did not make me feel my age. I enjoyed the camaraderie, the light hearted banter- the leg pulling- though I was more of the amused, indulgent spectator. The friendly orchestra members, the family atmosphere.
I enjoyed the travel to the venues in a spacious van – with a movie playing which I watched intermittently with half open eyes and gave me a headache further on. I enjoyed the eating together in a small, clean abandoned wayside temple premises which we left even cleaner. I enjoyed the make up sessions, the mutual helping with the cumbersome costumes, the laughter, the giggles, the excitement coupled with nervousness as we waited backstage for our turn. The clasping of hands and praying together with closed eyes before the programme commenced, the amused stares of the people around and finally the Magic while on stage.
I enjoyed the trepidation in my heart, the glare of the lights, the feel of the stage below my feet, the sound of the ringing applause, the presenting of mementos, the clicking of photos.
I enjoyed the words of reassurance that my Guru spoke after each item, the thrill of achievement as a team …I enjoyed the scramble to unfasten the millions of pins and threads from the hair, the removal of layers of make up- the hurried dress change, and then finally the voracious attack at dinner packets. And finally the tired, yet relaxed homeward journey through the night as some of us slept and others talked. I savoured the mutual playful raillery of mistakes made, all of us fatigued and yet happy.
The two stages were as different as could be in every way- while one was so small that we were a crowd on it. It was a rickety one with criss cross beams covered by heavy mats- and we could feel gaping holes beneath our feet- my Guru was so worried that one of us would fall through the holes that we practically tiptoed gingerly through our steps. Here, there were a couple more stages close by with other performances going on simultaneously and as a result our musicians had a tough time playing by shruthi, making themselves heard- we mostly danced by a sense of feel and memory rather than actually hearing the music to which we were playing. Nothing could be done about it though because it was festival time! A new learning experience!
The next stage was so sprawling that we looked like ants on a football field! We danced (ran) across the length and the breadth of the yawning space called the stage. Here, however the sound system, the organising everything was perfect and we reigned over the arena. Another experience.
DH picks me up early next morning from my Guru’s place and I sleepily recount to him about how the programmes went, on the drive back home. Once home, I look for my sons-talk gibberish - they ask me questions which I answer hardly knowing what I’m saying. I then have a bath and then hit the bed and then it’s the proverbial log.
DH cooks breakfast and lunch, the boys help him. (Thankfully both the times it was Sunday after the programmes being on Saturday). I’m woken up at Breakfast and then lunch time and though I protest and plead that I want no food- only sleep- I’m literally dragged to the dining table and made to eat. I go back to slumber land again- and by early evening I’m more coherent and sensible.
One thing I realise though is that now at this age, while I’m dancing I’m too conscious about not forgetting my steps or missing my cue and so sometimes I miss out on enjoying letting go and to just emote - the technical nuances requires me to be so totally alert that I 'm not able to indulge in my passion for expression. I suppose it must be due to my age.
The Alta (red dye used to adorn the feet and hands ) on my palms and feet have almost faded but the memories of the experience will remain forever- and for that I’ve lots of people to thank for- My guru of course, the young girls with whom I learn, and who help me out…my most supportive and encouraging DH, my sons…and everybody else in my family …and The Almighty.
Mynah on the loose
I was on my daily blog hopping rounds that day, when I thought I heard some sounds coming from the hall. I was sure it must’ve been my imagination, still I went to have a look- and there was a mynah flying around in the hall! I had no idea how it could’ve entered our home- the only way was through the balcony in the bedroom- where I had been sitting all the while, and I hadn’t noticed! It kept flying in circles near the ceiling and I did not know what to do. As I tried shooing it- it flew into the kitchen- there was no way out through there- the windows were open but netted. It kept flying around, alighting on the water filter, the pots and pans, the shelves -clinging and clanging all the way. . I went back to the hall and kept the main doors open hoping that the bird would eventually find its way out.
I went back to my blogs keeping an eye out for the mynah. After some time I heard it in the hall again. I crouched on the floor afraid to breathe, lest it fly into the kitchen again. It was busy examining the underworld beneath the sofas, the shoe racks and kept pecking on the floor. It did not seem too inclined about flying into Freedom... Perhaps it had not realised that its freedom had been curbed. I cautiously tried out a weak, plaintive shoo- all the while worried it might go into the depths of the kitchen again. It hardly noticed. I ventured to tiptoe softly into the hall- nearer- and WHOOSH- thankfully it swooped out the open doors into the outside world in one reflex motion. I closed and bolted the doors behind me in relief. I had been worried that it would never find its way outside.
I went back to my blogs keeping an eye out for the mynah. After some time I heard it in the hall again. I crouched on the floor afraid to breathe, lest it fly into the kitchen again. It was busy examining the underworld beneath the sofas, the shoe racks and kept pecking on the floor. It did not seem too inclined about flying into Freedom... Perhaps it had not realised that its freedom had been curbed. I cautiously tried out a weak, plaintive shoo- all the while worried it might go into the depths of the kitchen again. It hardly noticed. I ventured to tiptoe softly into the hall- nearer- and WHOOSH- thankfully it swooped out the open doors into the outside world in one reflex motion. I closed and bolted the doors behind me in relief. I had been worried that it would never find its way outside.
The Departed
On that Thursday morng ( Jul 5th), as I was busy running around to get things ready before the boys went to school and DH to the office, the door bell rang insistently a couple of times. I usually tend to get frazzled at such times, but I realised that this was an emergency. And it was- it was Saira- the DIL from the opposite flat. I immediately guessed what had happened, because it had been expected. The ‘Bhai’ – Saira’s FIL must’ve collapsed. Saira’s husband- Bhai’s son Afsal had informed us that the doctors had warned them that the end could come at any moment- and there was no need to come running to the hospital anymore. We had been expecting the inevitable and now it was unwinding right before our eyes. Incidentally, Afsal was in the shop through out the night trying to catch up with pending work and Saira and her MIL were all alone at home. DH rushed into their flat upon being informed…saw that “Bhai’ was lying on the floor – his eyes open but unseeing. His breaths came out in gasps and Saira’s MIL was screaming: “Kuchh karo- kuchh karo- unko theek karo”…but now the frail chest was no longer heaving…the warmth was already depleting…
What followed was heart rending- Saira’s MIL- a soft spoken woman who hardly spoke was now lamenting loudly- She was screaming “Allah” incessantly- asking to be taken away along – the neighbours started coming in from the near by flats…and as we tried to calm the woman- yet again, I had the feeling of stepping outside the scene rather than in it. Initially, I wasn’t able to hold back my tears when I first hugged the bereaved woman as she sobbed, my eyes later when completely dry as I performed the required actions in reflex like a zombie.
The departed had been a good old man and a wonderful father. His son Afsal who had by now arrived was devastated and was at a loss as to how to pacify his inconsolable mother. She kept mumbling that if Afsal had been home, his Abba would not have gone. The look in Afsal’s eyes at that moment shall remain etched in my minds eye for a long time.
What followed was heart rending- Saira’s MIL- a soft spoken woman who hardly spoke was now lamenting loudly- She was screaming “Allah” incessantly- asking to be taken away along – the neighbours started coming in from the near by flats…and as we tried to calm the woman- yet again, I had the feeling of stepping outside the scene rather than in it. Initially, I wasn’t able to hold back my tears when I first hugged the bereaved woman as she sobbed, my eyes later when completely dry as I performed the required actions in reflex like a zombie.
The departed had been a good old man and a wonderful father. His son Afsal who had by now arrived was devastated and was at a loss as to how to pacify his inconsolable mother. She kept mumbling that if Afsal had been home, his Abba would not have gone. The look in Afsal’s eyes at that moment shall remain etched in my minds eye for a long time.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Just to keep things going...
Saw an interesting tag at Chandni's.
1. Pick out a scar you have, and explain how you got it.
I’ve got a couple of scars on my face- hmmm..one on the right side of my forehead and another on my right temple slightly below my eye. Both have the same story- as a child, though I was not particularly naughty, I did try leaping from cots, school desks- and landed without using my feet. And then blood, tears , stitches, scars…
2. What is on the walls in your room?
One austere looking “Mathrubhoomi” calendar scribbled with the b‘days of friends and relatives . A picture of Radha and Krishna bought from the streets in Udupi.
3. What does your phone look like?
Err…it looks like any ‘phone’ is supposed to look like!
4. What music do you listen to?
Classical songs sung by B’bay Jayashree, Aruna Sairam
Hariharan.
Old Hindi film songs.
5. What is your current desktop picture?
Picture of a reddish sun burst on the horizon.
6. What do you want more than anything right now?
Nothing in particular.
7. Do you believe in gay marriage?
Well, I do believe in ‘To each his/her own’.
8. What time were you born?
At noon.
9. Are your parents still together?
Well, Divorce was never an option on their cards.
10. What are you listening to?
Right now, only to the hum of the pc.
11. Do you get scared of the dark?
The absence of light does not scare me, but I do consider it an inconvenience at times.
12. The last person to make you cry?
My brother and his family. Let me explain .
The last time I cried was when I said Goodbye to my brother and his family as they were returning abroad after the hols .
13. What is your favorite perfume/cologne?
Night Magic.
14. What kind of hair/eye colour do you like on the opposite sex?
Thick, Black ,wavy hair with random streaks of grey, eyes that glint with mischief (on a particular member of the opposite gender to be specific).
15. Do you like pain killers?
While I’m not overwhelmed with affection for them I do find them rather indispensable at times.
16. Are you too shy to ask someone out?
Doesn’t apply to me.
17. Favorite pizza topping?
I dislike Pizzas.
18. If you could eat anything right now, what would it be?
Feeling rather full right now after a sumptous breakfast of Uthappams, still I think I can have Hot spicy samosas followed by Butterscotch Icecream any time.
19. Who was the last person you made mad?
Of late , My elder son at any point of time.
20. Is anyone in love with you?
Oh sure.
1. Pick out a scar you have, and explain how you got it.
I’ve got a couple of scars on my face- hmmm..one on the right side of my forehead and another on my right temple slightly below my eye. Both have the same story- as a child, though I was not particularly naughty, I did try leaping from cots, school desks- and landed without using my feet. And then blood, tears , stitches, scars…
2. What is on the walls in your room?
One austere looking “Mathrubhoomi” calendar scribbled with the b‘days of friends and relatives . A picture of Radha and Krishna bought from the streets in Udupi.
3. What does your phone look like?
Err…it looks like any ‘phone’ is supposed to look like!
4. What music do you listen to?
Classical songs sung by B’bay Jayashree, Aruna Sairam
Hariharan.
Old Hindi film songs.
5. What is your current desktop picture?
Picture of a reddish sun burst on the horizon.
6. What do you want more than anything right now?
Nothing in particular.
7. Do you believe in gay marriage?
Well, I do believe in ‘To each his/her own’.
8. What time were you born?
At noon.
9. Are your parents still together?
Well, Divorce was never an option on their cards.
10. What are you listening to?
Right now, only to the hum of the pc.
11. Do you get scared of the dark?
The absence of light does not scare me, but I do consider it an inconvenience at times.
12. The last person to make you cry?
My brother and his family. Let me explain .
The last time I cried was when I said Goodbye to my brother and his family as they were returning abroad after the hols .
13. What is your favorite perfume/cologne?
Night Magic.
14. What kind of hair/eye colour do you like on the opposite sex?
Thick, Black ,wavy hair with random streaks of grey, eyes that glint with mischief (on a particular member of the opposite gender to be specific).
15. Do you like pain killers?
While I’m not overwhelmed with affection for them I do find them rather indispensable at times.
16. Are you too shy to ask someone out?
Doesn’t apply to me.
17. Favorite pizza topping?
I dislike Pizzas.
18. If you could eat anything right now, what would it be?
Feeling rather full right now after a sumptous breakfast of Uthappams, still I think I can have Hot spicy samosas followed by Butterscotch Icecream any time.
19. Who was the last person you made mad?
Of late , My elder son at any point of time.
20. Is anyone in love with you?
Oh sure.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Me? Thinking Blogger?!
Since coming home after the summer holidays spent with my parents in Kerala, I had been overcome by a kind of apathy wrt my blog. I just did not feel like putting thoughts, feelings into words. I’m not sure as to what could be the reason. Perhaps there is so much of clamor within me that to put them into words would be sheer torment. I just could not feel inclined to sift them, sort them out or even dwell on them. I was left with an overwhelming sense of futility wrt expression of my thoughts and musings. Its not that I’m particularly down or unhappy, just felt that the whole exercise was kind of pointless. Fleetingly I even considered deleting my blogs, and then decided I couldn’t be bothered to do even that. I just let it be suspended in a state of limbo- doubtful if I’d ever feel like resurrecting it.
However, this indifference wrt to blogs was restricted only to mine and I was actively catching up with others’ blogs. Most of the time I came away without leaving any footprints. Some days I did not even check my page and was sure I was slowly sinking into oblivion in cyberspace. Did I care? I don’t think so.
Today was different though, I clicked my page to visit the blogs on my blogroll and I see new comments on my last post. I saw that Gauri had tagged me and that too with the Thinking Blogger award! My first reaction was that of disbelief. Now I had seen this award doing its rounds in blogdom and it was one tag I was sure that I would not be tagged with. It had not occurred to me that my musings would ever be considered as a ‘thinking blog’. Nevertheless, I’m pleased. Thank you Gauri. My ego has been pampered. :- )
However, this indifference wrt to blogs was restricted only to mine and I was actively catching up with others’ blogs. Most of the time I came away without leaving any footprints. Some days I did not even check my page and was sure I was slowly sinking into oblivion in cyberspace. Did I care? I don’t think so.
Today was different though, I clicked my page to visit the blogs on my blogroll and I see new comments on my last post. I saw that Gauri had tagged me and that too with the Thinking Blogger award! My first reaction was that of disbelief. Now I had seen this award doing its rounds in blogdom and it was one tag I was sure that I would not be tagged with. It had not occurred to me that my musings would ever be considered as a ‘thinking blog’. Nevertheless, I’m pleased. Thank you Gauri. My ego has been pampered. :- )
Now that Gauri has honored me with this award, I decided to break through my cocoon of apathy. The other bloggers on her list would’ve been on mine too, but let me now consider other options. There are many blogposts that have made me ponder, wonder at various occasions…still let me stick to five here as per the requisites of the tag.
Srijith Unni
I stumbled into his page on blogdom from another blog and have been a regular reader of his posts since. I’ve found his words – be it prose/commentary/ poem very sensitive and thought provoking. I like the way he thinks and expresses. I even like his replies to the comments.
Punds
Got to read him first through Sulekha. His posts- stories/ random musings/ nostalgic memories are disarmingly simple and touching. The kind of earnestness throbbing in his words startles one by its sheer intensity of feeling sometimes. His posts have often made me wonder about the persona behind the words and thoughts. His stories have a wistful tone about it and sometimes make me wish I had a magic wand with me.
On The Ganga Mail
This is one blogger whose posts I’m eager to read- I’m eager to know what topic is it that he is going to write about next. His honesty and forthrightness is so refreshing and charming. His posts are laced with mischief which sometimes makes the reader chuckle, at other times one wonders if he is daring the reader to refute…there is definitely a zing to his posts! And then there is that random poignant post which touches the reader and compels one to pause and wonder…
Heartcrossings
Her posts, I find it hard to define or categorize. She talks about so many things presenting facts sort of objectively- mostly that she encounters in the daily business of living- she adds her own perspective and then leaves the reader to his/ her own interpretation. I rarely comment but her posts most often gets me into a self- conversation mode.
Vivek
His poems astonish me with the clarity and spontaeinity of thought. The flow of words are sometimes so spontaneous having that impulsive raw/casual touch to them that for a moment one is almost deluded to thinking that they might have spurted forth from one’s own heart . The characters in his stories are often so well etched with details- physical/ emotional – that one tends to feel that one knows them. The theme keeps running in the back of my mind and I find myself toying with the possibilities and probabilities getting sucked into a vortex of ideas…
I’m not sure if the above bloggers would be interested in taking up the tag.
If you choose to pass this award on, these are the Thinking Blogger Award rules:
This award was started here.
You have to award five others whose blog you think deserve this award.
Should you choose to participate, please make sure you pass this list of rules to the blogs you are tagging.
If, and only if, you get tagged, write a post with links to 5 blogs that make you think.
Link to this post so that people can easily find the exact origin of the meme.
Optional: Proudly display the ‘Thinking Blogger Award’ with a link to the post that you wrote.
Please, remember to tag blogs with real merits, i.e. relative content, and above all — blogs that really get you thinking!
Saturday, April 28, 2007
What kind of Intelligence do I have?
| Your Dominant Intelligence is Linguistic Intelligence |
 You are excellent with words and language. You explain yourself well. An elegant speaker, you can converse well with anyone on the fly. You are also good at remembering information and convicing someone of your point of view. A master of creative phrasing and unique words, you enjoy expanding your vocabulary. You would make a fantastic poet, journalist, writer, teacher, lawyer, politician, or translator. |
Monday, April 23, 2007
Sometimes...
Sometimes it is difficult to live with oneself more than with others. It is difficult to rise up to the standards that one has set for oneself. Simply because it entails going against one’s innate nature, against one’s likes and preferences. It is a tight rope walk because one can neither abide nor evade. There are moments when one has to keep up appearances and that is uncomfortable. The awareness of having to seem different from what one actually feels preys on the mind and yet it is not always viable to express. It is a weird dilemma. While I don’t like the mask, one cannot remove and throw it away either. Lots of things depend on it, not just things, others, and relationships are all hinged to this mask that I wear. While it may not be deceit as such, it still is not complete honesty either.
Having to face the not so pleasant facets of oneself is difficult. Even when there is no fear of judgment, still it becomes imperative to seem otherwise and then one feels inadequate and petty.
There are situations in daily life that one does not welcome and yet one is obliged to seem comfortable. There is just no other option. Because that is the right thing. Just that one does not feel like doing the right thing always. Striving to be a better person than one actually is a strain. And then one has to pretend that one enjoys doing the expected thing. One has to smile a lot, one has to make small talk, one has to laugh…and all the time I have this weird feeling of watching me going through all the expected motions. I hear this tiny voice in my head chuckling and making fun at my efforts.
Where is the real me? Who is the real me? What do I really want? The people who have grown to like/love me – is that the real me? I’m not sure. I know myself as this temperamental person who is moody, easily irritable, who loves most spending time with herself- and who is that other gregarious person chattering away, laughing heartily? Oh, that other person does look like me- but no that is not the Real me.
The facets that people get to see of me are just slivers of the whole- while not entirely phoney, they’re still not the true me. They’re interacting with a very temporary, fickle facet that vaporizes in solitude.
And I want to shake these people who think they know me, who think I’m this nice, sweet person, I need to tell them- I’m not what you see and you may not like what you don’t get to see. I’m stuck with this sticky, pesky mask but I cannot throw it away either, for if I peel it off, it will come away with my skin and all and that would be a pretty ugly sight! I know because when I look into the mirror I see me without the mask- warts and all!
Having to face the not so pleasant facets of oneself is difficult. Even when there is no fear of judgment, still it becomes imperative to seem otherwise and then one feels inadequate and petty.
There are situations in daily life that one does not welcome and yet one is obliged to seem comfortable. There is just no other option. Because that is the right thing. Just that one does not feel like doing the right thing always. Striving to be a better person than one actually is a strain. And then one has to pretend that one enjoys doing the expected thing. One has to smile a lot, one has to make small talk, one has to laugh…and all the time I have this weird feeling of watching me going through all the expected motions. I hear this tiny voice in my head chuckling and making fun at my efforts.
Where is the real me? Who is the real me? What do I really want? The people who have grown to like/love me – is that the real me? I’m not sure. I know myself as this temperamental person who is moody, easily irritable, who loves most spending time with herself- and who is that other gregarious person chattering away, laughing heartily? Oh, that other person does look like me- but no that is not the Real me.
The facets that people get to see of me are just slivers of the whole- while not entirely phoney, they’re still not the true me. They’re interacting with a very temporary, fickle facet that vaporizes in solitude.
And I want to shake these people who think they know me, who think I’m this nice, sweet person, I need to tell them- I’m not what you see and you may not like what you don’t get to see. I’m stuck with this sticky, pesky mask but I cannot throw it away either, for if I peel it off, it will come away with my skin and all and that would be a pretty ugly sight! I know because when I look into the mirror I see me without the mask- warts and all!
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Thursday, April 05, 2007
Waiting for Tuesdays
Now, we ( my sons and me) wait for Tuesdays. On Tuesdays, a mobile library van drives up into our colony. When it first came about 2 weeks ago, and we received the the little pamphlet advertising its services, my sons and me marched upto it in the scorching sun with Great Expectations. It was like a furnace inside- a furnace filled with books; and though Great Expectations were unfulfilled still we were quite happy. We plundered the insides like elephants let loose in a sugarcane field.
Now, why we are celebrating the occassion- that's because all these years it has been so difficult to get hold of books in English here. There are only a couple of libraries and those have books only in the vernacular or it is reference texts. We've been starved for books.
Each of us got home 3 books and proceeded to gorge on them the moment we reached home. Within the week, we had finished with our books and we were eagerly waiting for next Monday- and when Monday dawned and the van did not arrive we felt betrayed. However the van came again on Tuesday and that’s how it will be – Tuesdays.
On Tuesday once again my sons and myself braved the blazing sun and ransacked the furnace of books. I felt sorry for the librarian girl who was getting baked in the van.
As I type these words, I’ve finished with Jhumpa Lahiri’s ‘Interpreter of Maladies’ ( neat collection of stories, very real and simple) . I was hoping for 'Namesake', but I’m grateful for small mercies. And though I mourn the end of one book, the prospect of two more books awaiting me is exciting.
Now, why we are celebrating the occassion- that's because all these years it has been so difficult to get hold of books in English here. There are only a couple of libraries and those have books only in the vernacular or it is reference texts. We've been starved for books.
Each of us got home 3 books and proceeded to gorge on them the moment we reached home. Within the week, we had finished with our books and we were eagerly waiting for next Monday- and when Monday dawned and the van did not arrive we felt betrayed. However the van came again on Tuesday and that’s how it will be – Tuesdays.
On Tuesday once again my sons and myself braved the blazing sun and ransacked the furnace of books. I felt sorry for the librarian girl who was getting baked in the van.
As I type these words, I’ve finished with Jhumpa Lahiri’s ‘Interpreter of Maladies’ ( neat collection of stories, very real and simple) . I was hoping for 'Namesake', but I’m grateful for small mercies. And though I mourn the end of one book, the prospect of two more books awaiting me is exciting.
Saturday, March 03, 2007
My Visual DNA
I had been seeing this on most of the blogs that I visit that I just had to find out mine:
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Frozen Limbo
My husband’s childhood friend had come down on holidays from Australia. She called us and told us she was coming to see us. I too have known her since all these years and though we don’t get to see eachother often we’ve kept in touch. She is a very sweet, cheerful and endearing person and we’ve always enjoyed her company. Though I’ve not known for as long, still we’ve always felt connected with each other and she had always been very affectionate and warm.
Last time we met her and her family on the occasion of her sons’ “upanayanam” (sacred thread) ceremony around five years ago.
We had heard that she had to have a few surgeries few months back but that she was fine now. We were eagerly looking forward to meeting her after five years.
The first thing that caught my eye as she got out of the auto was the angry red scars on her fair throat. I was taken aback for a second. We settled down after the initial ‘Hi- how are you’s’ and then I asked her what had been bothering me for some time now. I asked her what surgeries she had had to have and why. There was just a moment’s pause and then she said with a smile: “I had cancer-”. She hastened to add- “but I’m perfectly fine now”.
And for me that moment was a strange limbo - inside my head, thoughts, questions, feelings were rushing about like crazy, and outside I remember trying to look as nonchalant, unruffled as ever – I don’t remember what all I said- I just sensed that she would prefer it if I did not make a fuss and so I complied.
She talked nineteen to the dozen-as she always did- but her voice had changed. She clicked photographs and we were all laughing away as we always did whenever we met. We caught up with the years.
Later in the evening she left – leaving us stuck in a strange place. A zone where her words kept reverberating in our ears. A zone where one wanted to go into the past desperately undo the prognosis. A zone where we were stuck with memories of scenes from our past together. A zone of a vague unrest and anxiety. A zone of deep Love and Prayer. It took us a few days to be able to shake off that vague unrest and come to terms with it.
I’ve decided to focus on the positive, to believe that she is completely cured, that the Future is Hopeful and Bright for her and her family. I want to remember her gaiety, her radiance, her smile, her laughter, her love and affection- and most of all I want to wipe those red angry scars from my memories and her neck….
Last time we met her and her family on the occasion of her sons’ “upanayanam” (sacred thread) ceremony around five years ago.
We had heard that she had to have a few surgeries few months back but that she was fine now. We were eagerly looking forward to meeting her after five years.
The first thing that caught my eye as she got out of the auto was the angry red scars on her fair throat. I was taken aback for a second. We settled down after the initial ‘Hi- how are you’s’ and then I asked her what had been bothering me for some time now. I asked her what surgeries she had had to have and why. There was just a moment’s pause and then she said with a smile: “I had cancer-”. She hastened to add- “but I’m perfectly fine now”.
And for me that moment was a strange limbo - inside my head, thoughts, questions, feelings were rushing about like crazy, and outside I remember trying to look as nonchalant, unruffled as ever – I don’t remember what all I said- I just sensed that she would prefer it if I did not make a fuss and so I complied.
She talked nineteen to the dozen-as she always did- but her voice had changed. She clicked photographs and we were all laughing away as we always did whenever we met. We caught up with the years.
Later in the evening she left – leaving us stuck in a strange place. A zone where her words kept reverberating in our ears. A zone where one wanted to go into the past desperately undo the prognosis. A zone where we were stuck with memories of scenes from our past together. A zone of a vague unrest and anxiety. A zone of deep Love and Prayer. It took us a few days to be able to shake off that vague unrest and come to terms with it.
I’ve decided to focus on the positive, to believe that she is completely cured, that the Future is Hopeful and Bright for her and her family. I want to remember her gaiety, her radiance, her smile, her laughter, her love and affection- and most of all I want to wipe those red angry scars from my memories and her neck….
Thursday, January 25, 2007
Style Style thaan, Super Style Thaan...
Had been catching up with bloghopping , and got to read the ‘style tag’ that seems to be doing the rounds presently. I found reading the various ‘style formats’ very interesting and also thought to myself that this was a difficult tag. And then when I came to the end of Hiphopgrandmas’s blog, spotted my name.
Oops! I thought, not at all sure if I’d be able to come up with this one. Still I decided to try, solicited the help of a couple of individuals who have known me from fairly close quarters. I must confess that the joint project was not entirely an entertaining exercise. But yes , atleast I got fodder for this post and for this I’m obliged to thank the aforementioned individuals for their valuable contribution. Moreover, the conclusions drawn proved to be conflicting and contradictory most of the time- i.e; mine vs their perceptions. Anyways here’s the analyses drawn for your kind and patient perusal: However, I would like to remind my beloved readers that since I suspect my assistants in this project were prejudiced in their observations , they should not let themselves be influenced by what they read.
Sunshine: I think of myself as this bright ray of sunshine brightening other people’s life- whose path I may cross- bringing cheer to their otherwise mundane existence.
My co- assistants in this project seemed to slightly disagree with this observation. They mentioned that perhaps I was sunshine to certain people within a certain periphery and for a limited period of time, but if they were exposed to extended time period the sunshine would have got too much to bear increasing chances of Heat stroke. According to them, living under the same roof 24/7, 365 days- could be compared to the “Big Boss Scenario” . Oh well, I confess that I do have my share of ‘sulk’ episodes, and do succumb to the ‘tantrum mode’ now and then, but then what else is the luxury and privacy of one’s Home worth if not to indulge in some minor whims and moods?
I laugh out spontaneously and my mirth tends to be rather contagious spreading Happiness, joy and sense of wellbeing- and my laughter is like the tinkle of bells- or may be marbles in a glass bottle- anyways very pleasant to the ears.
Again, there were voices of dissent, certain people insist that my guffaws sound like “maala padakkam’” ( those chain fire crackers that people burst during festivities ) and make people jump out of their skins.
Well, here, we did manage to reach a kind of consensus, upto a point atleast. That is I’m capable of breaking into tears, sobs at the drop of a hat, or anything else for that matter which is droppable. However the point of disagreement arose when I chose to describe myself as someone who is very sensitive, compassionate. A couple of stone hearted individuals preferred to call me an irreparable leaky tap.
I keep away from arguments, confrontations because I’m a peace loving soul, but the same aforementioned assistants of mine accuse me of being an escapist like the ostrich and that perhaps this behaviour could also be attributed to lack of courage. Besides, they reminded me that this burying my ‘head in the mud’ habit of mine was not prevalent within the privacy of Home sweet Home where I had no hesitation in making my voice heard . Sigh…some people are doomed to be misunderstood always.
I like to take things easy, do my things in my own sweet time in my own pace. At this point I thought I heard some mumbled references being made to goose and ganders.
I like to try to convince people when I know I’m in the right and that it would be good for others in the long run to be able to see my point. I’ve enormous patience in trying to drive the point home. This time, I’m sure I heard something about a broken record, and driving up walls .
I’m very expressive in my affection and smothering my loved ones is my speciality. People whom I love will never be in doubt as to how much they’re loved by me. And now the ungrateful souls liken me to the Spin option in a washing machine!
I’m not sure if I’ve been able to come up with 10 things that reflect my style, but I’ve been described at various instances by different people with different names- and many a time they’ve been mutually contradictory too! I’ve been referred to as Angel, Fairy, Dormant Volcano , Mother Hen, Doll, Spluttering Mustard, Cheeni Mulaku ( species of green chillies that can burn your tongue, intestines ). Well, it all depends I guess…
And now let the drum rolls begin: I hereby tag Alaapana and Arunima. I think I do know that both of you do not get terribly excited by tags, but then I have to tell you was this tag was pretty interesting, intriguing, exciting, entertaining, adventurous…I’ve run out of adjectives… so let me just say do it…Plisssssssss.
Oops! I thought, not at all sure if I’d be able to come up with this one. Still I decided to try, solicited the help of a couple of individuals who have known me from fairly close quarters. I must confess that the joint project was not entirely an entertaining exercise. But yes , atleast I got fodder for this post and for this I’m obliged to thank the aforementioned individuals for their valuable contribution. Moreover, the conclusions drawn proved to be conflicting and contradictory most of the time- i.e; mine vs their perceptions. Anyways here’s the analyses drawn for your kind and patient perusal: However, I would like to remind my beloved readers that since I suspect my assistants in this project were prejudiced in their observations , they should not let themselves be influenced by what they read.
Sunshine: I think of myself as this bright ray of sunshine brightening other people’s life- whose path I may cross- bringing cheer to their otherwise mundane existence.
My co- assistants in this project seemed to slightly disagree with this observation. They mentioned that perhaps I was sunshine to certain people within a certain periphery and for a limited period of time, but if they were exposed to extended time period the sunshine would have got too much to bear increasing chances of Heat stroke. According to them, living under the same roof 24/7, 365 days- could be compared to the “Big Boss Scenario” . Oh well, I confess that I do have my share of ‘sulk’ episodes, and do succumb to the ‘tantrum mode’ now and then, but then what else is the luxury and privacy of one’s Home worth if not to indulge in some minor whims and moods?
I laugh out spontaneously and my mirth tends to be rather contagious spreading Happiness, joy and sense of wellbeing- and my laughter is like the tinkle of bells- or may be marbles in a glass bottle- anyways very pleasant to the ears.
Again, there were voices of dissent, certain people insist that my guffaws sound like “maala padakkam’” ( those chain fire crackers that people burst during festivities ) and make people jump out of their skins.
Well, here, we did manage to reach a kind of consensus, upto a point atleast. That is I’m capable of breaking into tears, sobs at the drop of a hat, or anything else for that matter which is droppable. However the point of disagreement arose when I chose to describe myself as someone who is very sensitive, compassionate. A couple of stone hearted individuals preferred to call me an irreparable leaky tap.
I keep away from arguments, confrontations because I’m a peace loving soul, but the same aforementioned assistants of mine accuse me of being an escapist like the ostrich and that perhaps this behaviour could also be attributed to lack of courage. Besides, they reminded me that this burying my ‘head in the mud’ habit of mine was not prevalent within the privacy of Home sweet Home where I had no hesitation in making my voice heard . Sigh…some people are doomed to be misunderstood always.
I like to take things easy, do my things in my own sweet time in my own pace. At this point I thought I heard some mumbled references being made to goose and ganders.
I like to try to convince people when I know I’m in the right and that it would be good for others in the long run to be able to see my point. I’ve enormous patience in trying to drive the point home. This time, I’m sure I heard something about a broken record, and driving up walls .
I’m very expressive in my affection and smothering my loved ones is my speciality. People whom I love will never be in doubt as to how much they’re loved by me. And now the ungrateful souls liken me to the Spin option in a washing machine!
I’m not sure if I’ve been able to come up with 10 things that reflect my style, but I’ve been described at various instances by different people with different names- and many a time they’ve been mutually contradictory too! I’ve been referred to as Angel, Fairy, Dormant Volcano , Mother Hen, Doll, Spluttering Mustard, Cheeni Mulaku ( species of green chillies that can burn your tongue, intestines ). Well, it all depends I guess…
And now let the drum rolls begin: I hereby tag Alaapana and Arunima. I think I do know that both of you do not get terribly excited by tags, but then I have to tell you was this tag was pretty interesting, intriguing, exciting, entertaining, adventurous…I’ve run out of adjectives… so let me just say do it…Plisssssssss.
Monday, January 22, 2007
Realisation Of A Dream
As the date of my going on stage approached, I was filled with a gamut of emotions- excitement, thrill, anticipation, fear, joy, misgivings… Practice sessions were frequent. I had to request my tuition girls to grant me leave until after the 18th of Jan. Every evening saw me cook dinner and then boarding two buses to go for my rehearsals. Kids stayed back home after school, and DH picked me up on his way back home every evening.
My friends and relatives knew how important this event was for me and even those who were far from me geographically were as excited and happy for me. I received encouragement from all sides. I can never thank them all enough .
The anxiety that I was feeling were due to several reasons: I was worried about the total expenditure that we would incur. It was a great burden on my heart but my husband re assured me that it was worth it and encouraged me constantly. Still the thought haunted me.
Another fear was if I would fumble, falter or forget my steps on stage. Again, my near and dear ones gave me confidence and courage.
I was also concerned about how I would help my tuition girls with catching up with their portions.
However, in spite of all these anxieties, I enjoyed my rehearsals completely and forgot everything else while I was at the classes. My knees still pained but it was much tolerable. Only the bus rides were a bit tedious because it used to be jam packed.
Finally the D-Day dawned. My amma , mema( aunt), cousin, her husband and Vallyamma (MIL)were with me. We had stage rehearsals the previous evening. For the first time in my life, I performed to the accompaniment of live orchestra. It was a totally different experience. The stage was sprawling and I was bewildered. My Guru gave us instructions as to how to cover the stage, stand, face the audience everything. The other girls had done this before and seemed to be at ease. The little ones who were doing it for the first time seemed cheerfully nonchalant.
I helped to compose the MC material and enjoyed doing it.
We had to reach the hall at 11 a.m on the day though the program was scheduled to commence only at 6.15p.m. I was the first to reach there with my box of accessories, costume and precious salangai. Soon the others followed and the make up room was opened for us. The make up artistes were from Chennai and they set about doing up our hair almost immediately. The air was festive with the little ones prancing around excitedly. What was most endearing was the way how everyone- the other girls, both the seniors and juniors, the mothers who had accompanied them were all so affectionate and helpful. We had brought lunch from home and everyone shared with one another. The senior girls kept reminding the boisterous little ones not to tire themselves out. I kept getting sms’es and calls from my friends and well wishers wishing me luck. I was not feeling completely relaxed and tried to take deep breaths and kept chanting for most of the time.
When my face was done, and I looked into the mirror, I was not too happy with how I looked. But the other girls assured me that I looked fine. We helped one another with the costumes. My mother, Vallyamma, aunt, cousin came to the green room to see me. My cousin wanted to click me and I posed for her self consciously.
Finally it was time. My Guru blessed us, did salangai pooja and wished us Luck. The lights dimmed and I waited in the wings with a pounding heart. The music started, the beats began and I stepped into the arc lights- on the stage…what happened afterwards I cannot describe. How does one put into words the unfurling of a Dream- The Magic of a Transcendental Experience? The energy that pulsated within my spirit as I took my steps to the rhythm of the Music Beats – perhaps I could call it Resurrection?
It was an invocatory item- Pushpanjali- a floral tribute seeking the Blessings of The Almighty, The Guru, The Accompaniments, and The Audience for a successful performance. As I bowed in front of my Guru, I was overcome by a feeling of immense Gratitude. The piece moved smoothly- and as I danced my way towards the exit finally- I entered the backstage and I broke down into huge hysterical sobs. I had had no inkling that it was coming and I was unable to stop myself.
All the other girls waiting there gathered around me offering words of comfort and solace. They were so overpoweringly affectionate and concerned – it was all so overwhelming. Someone offered water, another gingerly dabbed my eyes reminding me not to smudge my make up! Slowly, I regained my composure and after those cathartic moments, I felt strangely subdued and blank for the rest of the evening.
After the next couple of items, it was time for me to go onstage again. I was no longer nervous and yet I made a small mistake. The evening went on smoothly and friends and relatives showered me with compliments. My loved ones treated me as if I were a celebrity! I accepted all the affection, appreciation gratefully, though by now, I was feeling like a third person and everything was happening to someone else and not to me.
Gratitude- Immense Gratitude, A sense of complete, Total fulfillment. A feeling of being filled with Blessedness, deep Gratitude- yes I just have to keep reiterating the word Gratitude- again and again... for Everything- a sense of utter Humility...wonder and lots and lots of Love that I am at the point of Bursting. Every word that I wish to utter is choked by sobs the tears come gushing forth- not out of sadness but just sheer joy... I have no words to express- no language can quite do justice to express what I feel...so I just bow my head with closed eyes and folded palms in prayer.
My friends and relatives knew how important this event was for me and even those who were far from me geographically were as excited and happy for me. I received encouragement from all sides. I can never thank them all enough .
The anxiety that I was feeling were due to several reasons: I was worried about the total expenditure that we would incur. It was a great burden on my heart but my husband re assured me that it was worth it and encouraged me constantly. Still the thought haunted me.
Another fear was if I would fumble, falter or forget my steps on stage. Again, my near and dear ones gave me confidence and courage.
I was also concerned about how I would help my tuition girls with catching up with their portions.
However, in spite of all these anxieties, I enjoyed my rehearsals completely and forgot everything else while I was at the classes. My knees still pained but it was much tolerable. Only the bus rides were a bit tedious because it used to be jam packed.
Finally the D-Day dawned. My amma , mema( aunt), cousin, her husband and Vallyamma (MIL)were with me. We had stage rehearsals the previous evening. For the first time in my life, I performed to the accompaniment of live orchestra. It was a totally different experience. The stage was sprawling and I was bewildered. My Guru gave us instructions as to how to cover the stage, stand, face the audience everything. The other girls had done this before and seemed to be at ease. The little ones who were doing it for the first time seemed cheerfully nonchalant.
I helped to compose the MC material and enjoyed doing it.
We had to reach the hall at 11 a.m on the day though the program was scheduled to commence only at 6.15p.m. I was the first to reach there with my box of accessories, costume and precious salangai. Soon the others followed and the make up room was opened for us. The make up artistes were from Chennai and they set about doing up our hair almost immediately. The air was festive with the little ones prancing around excitedly. What was most endearing was the way how everyone- the other girls, both the seniors and juniors, the mothers who had accompanied them were all so affectionate and helpful. We had brought lunch from home and everyone shared with one another. The senior girls kept reminding the boisterous little ones not to tire themselves out. I kept getting sms’es and calls from my friends and well wishers wishing me luck. I was not feeling completely relaxed and tried to take deep breaths and kept chanting for most of the time.
When my face was done, and I looked into the mirror, I was not too happy with how I looked. But the other girls assured me that I looked fine. We helped one another with the costumes. My mother, Vallyamma, aunt, cousin came to the green room to see me. My cousin wanted to click me and I posed for her self consciously.
Finally it was time. My Guru blessed us, did salangai pooja and wished us Luck. The lights dimmed and I waited in the wings with a pounding heart. The music started, the beats began and I stepped into the arc lights- on the stage…what happened afterwards I cannot describe. How does one put into words the unfurling of a Dream- The Magic of a Transcendental Experience? The energy that pulsated within my spirit as I took my steps to the rhythm of the Music Beats – perhaps I could call it Resurrection?
It was an invocatory item- Pushpanjali- a floral tribute seeking the Blessings of The Almighty, The Guru, The Accompaniments, and The Audience for a successful performance. As I bowed in front of my Guru, I was overcome by a feeling of immense Gratitude. The piece moved smoothly- and as I danced my way towards the exit finally- I entered the backstage and I broke down into huge hysterical sobs. I had had no inkling that it was coming and I was unable to stop myself.
All the other girls waiting there gathered around me offering words of comfort and solace. They were so overpoweringly affectionate and concerned – it was all so overwhelming. Someone offered water, another gingerly dabbed my eyes reminding me not to smudge my make up! Slowly, I regained my composure and after those cathartic moments, I felt strangely subdued and blank for the rest of the evening.
After the next couple of items, it was time for me to go onstage again. I was no longer nervous and yet I made a small mistake. The evening went on smoothly and friends and relatives showered me with compliments. My loved ones treated me as if I were a celebrity! I accepted all the affection, appreciation gratefully, though by now, I was feeling like a third person and everything was happening to someone else and not to me.
Gratitude- Immense Gratitude, A sense of complete, Total fulfillment. A feeling of being filled with Blessedness, deep Gratitude- yes I just have to keep reiterating the word Gratitude- again and again... for Everything- a sense of utter Humility...wonder and lots and lots of Love that I am at the point of Bursting. Every word that I wish to utter is choked by sobs the tears come gushing forth- not out of sadness but just sheer joy... I have no words to express- no language can quite do justice to express what I feel...so I just bow my head with closed eyes and folded palms in prayer.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
The sand is trickling...
When one is younger, one looks at each passing day with eager anticipation, one can’t wait to grow up. Milestones to be passed, thresholds to be crossed.
However, I now perceive each passing day/ weekend differently. I’m aware of passing time, years, like the slipping of sand from between my fingers. While I cannot say that I’m petrified, I must admit that I’m anxious about impending separations, coping with crises. And while I know that Life is all about the Here and Now, I realise that I’ve to take effort to shrug away the fears, the uncertainties of the Future.
I do not dwell upon such thoughts, but neither can I dissociate completely from the concept of mortality and the futility of everything. The idea remains as a backdrop in my consciousness. I admit that though this constant awareness does not dilute the essence of my present, yet I do feel a certain disenchantment at some level.
However, I now perceive each passing day/ weekend differently. I’m aware of passing time, years, like the slipping of sand from between my fingers. While I cannot say that I’m petrified, I must admit that I’m anxious about impending separations, coping with crises. And while I know that Life is all about the Here and Now, I realise that I’ve to take effort to shrug away the fears, the uncertainties of the Future.
I do not dwell upon such thoughts, but neither can I dissociate completely from the concept of mortality and the futility of everything. The idea remains as a backdrop in my consciousness. I admit that though this constant awareness does not dilute the essence of my present, yet I do feel a certain disenchantment at some level.
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
For a daughter…
This started of as a comment to a post by mommy of2 but I had a hunch it would get a bit long, so decided to post it as a blog.
I’m a mother of two sons- two sons who are my very life. However, I had always yearned for a daughter; right from the time I first started wondering what it would feel like to become a mother.
I’m a mother of two sons- two sons who are my very life. However, I had always yearned for a daughter; right from the time I first started wondering what it would feel like to become a mother.
When my first son was born, I thought that I could still perhaps have a daughter. Then when I was informed that my second baby was also going to be a son, I came home and cried bitterly. Though today I can look back at that day with detachment, I remember I had felt very sad. Of course, I reminded myself to be grateful and pray for a healthy baby. For the next few years after the birth of my second son, I did feel a pang whenever I heard of a birth of a baby girl to a friend or relative.
Today, as I look at my younger son, I feel no regrets. I very consciously and deliberately trained myself not to think about daughters with longing. I just refused to let my thoughts go there and I can say that I managed to succeed in detaching myself from the yearning that I once nurtured. I’ve also succeeded in desensitizing myself from random insensitive comments that sometimes still come my way. Today I can look at little girls with happiness, fondness, pure affection without any remnant pangs.
I have two little girls coming to me for tuitions and I enjoy my time with them. I get to see several little cute girls at the dance class- and I love watching them, hearing them talk.
Today, I’m grateful for my sons and I just want them to grow up as good persons.
Monday, November 20, 2006
Home Sweet Home
Recently, I read a post in which the writer says that she is in quest of a ‘home’. Home is not where she lives currently. ‘Home’ used to be where her mom was, but now when she went back it no longer felt like Home. Then where is her ‘home’? She is still looking- she does get glimpses of ‘home’ at certain moments- but they’re transient…she wonders if she’s chasing a mirage, whether ‘home’ has been relegated to a mere concept? She is worried if she will be chasing it forever?
That set me wondering…what is ‘home’ for me? Today, it is this place where I live with my husband and children- the answer forms in my mind immediately. Why is this place ‘home’ for me, I want to find out. I think that I’ve never connected home with its geographical location.
For me, home is this flat where I live. Here, I rule. I do what I like when I like, how I like. No questions asked, no answers expected. I like that. While I’m not totally undisciplined, I’ve never enjoyed living by rules. I like to move ‘araam se’- I love to amble along life, watch others racing by- wave to them. I don’t enjoy living by the clock to the second. I like to just follow it casually. If I make commitments, I’ve to stick to it and I do it. But if I’ve to be racing against time and demands constantly, I lose perspective of who I’m. I need respite in between.
Any place where I would have to do things by clockwork, where I have to do things according to rules charted out by others, within stipulated time would be stifling. This I mean only with regard to ‘home’ and not work place. I used to work in the past and had no problems with punctuality, sincerity, overtime, deadlines. It is only ‘Home’ where I expect things to be laid back. In fact that is why I call it ‘home’ in the first place.
For me, home is the place to unwind, relax. Of course, there should be some basic discipline especially if one is bringing up kids. May be sleeping late now and then, bathing a little later than usual, postpone the folding of laundry ( provided it is not piled on the living room sofa) and yet the sky would not come crashing down. Having to abide by strict rules and timings at all times, then that would not be ‘home’ for me.
I understand that I don’t enjoy doing things because I’m supposed to or expected to.
However, with age comes responsibilities and duties to others and I understand and accept that Life is not about having my way all the time, it is not about doing only those things that I like. I’m willing to adjust and accommodate for others now and then, as long as I know it’s not going to be forever and that I’ll be going ‘home’ sooner or later. :-)
But I need to be on my own in between to get recharged to be able to extend beyond my comfort zone and fulfill my responsibilities cheerfully and sincerely.
I also realise that definitions of love, acceptance and tolerance have evolved with changes in my life.
I’m not too sure if my definitions are right- Sometimes I even have doubts if it is fair. But I’ve no choice but to acknowledge that this is how I am.
That set me wondering…what is ‘home’ for me? Today, it is this place where I live with my husband and children- the answer forms in my mind immediately. Why is this place ‘home’ for me, I want to find out. I think that I’ve never connected home with its geographical location.
For me, home is this flat where I live. Here, I rule. I do what I like when I like, how I like. No questions asked, no answers expected. I like that. While I’m not totally undisciplined, I’ve never enjoyed living by rules. I like to move ‘araam se’- I love to amble along life, watch others racing by- wave to them. I don’t enjoy living by the clock to the second. I like to just follow it casually. If I make commitments, I’ve to stick to it and I do it. But if I’ve to be racing against time and demands constantly, I lose perspective of who I’m. I need respite in between.
Any place where I would have to do things by clockwork, where I have to do things according to rules charted out by others, within stipulated time would be stifling. This I mean only with regard to ‘home’ and not work place. I used to work in the past and had no problems with punctuality, sincerity, overtime, deadlines. It is only ‘Home’ where I expect things to be laid back. In fact that is why I call it ‘home’ in the first place.
For me, home is the place to unwind, relax. Of course, there should be some basic discipline especially if one is bringing up kids. May be sleeping late now and then, bathing a little later than usual, postpone the folding of laundry ( provided it is not piled on the living room sofa) and yet the sky would not come crashing down. Having to abide by strict rules and timings at all times, then that would not be ‘home’ for me.
I understand that I don’t enjoy doing things because I’m supposed to or expected to.
However, with age comes responsibilities and duties to others and I understand and accept that Life is not about having my way all the time, it is not about doing only those things that I like. I’m willing to adjust and accommodate for others now and then, as long as I know it’s not going to be forever and that I’ll be going ‘home’ sooner or later. :-)
But I need to be on my own in between to get recharged to be able to extend beyond my comfort zone and fulfill my responsibilities cheerfully and sincerely.
I also realise that definitions of love, acceptance and tolerance have evolved with changes in my life.
I’m not too sure if my definitions are right- Sometimes I even have doubts if it is fair. But I’ve no choice but to acknowledge that this is how I am.
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
A Different tag
So this is a different tag from Chet. One has to just upload a snap from one’s childhood. So I rummaged in the cupboards and dug out the ancient albums and managed to find one of mine as a baby- just six months old. I’m afraid the clarity is wanting.
I would like to tag Hiphop grandma and Usha. I sincerely hope they are able to dig into the archives of family portraits and find their childhood snaps.
Monday, November 13, 2006
I don’t remember the first time I met her. What I remember is her smile that lit up her huge eyes, her cheerfulness that made us forget that she was in extreme physical discomfort. She was so loving, her talk was so animated, that her listener could not help marvelling.
Its been a long, long time since I met her last- and now she is no more….She- whom I called Rudrani ammayi- because she was my uncle- Sukumaramman’s wife .
I just feel blessed to have known her…
Its been a long, long time since I met her last- and now she is no more….She- whom I called Rudrani ammayi- because she was my uncle- Sukumaramman’s wife .
I just feel blessed to have known her…
Friday, November 10, 2006
Saw the tamil movie “Vidukkathai” ( Director- Ahathiyan) again the other day .I had seen this movie some years ago and had loved it then too. Its about how a young girl of 18 falls in love with a man in his forties. The role of the girl is played by Neena ( the child artiste in Keladi Kanmani) and the middle aged man’s role is essayed by Prakash Raj.
I liked the way the story evolved, I liked the acting. I liked the way the complexes of the man surfaces , his reactions to the comments of people around, I liked the way how the girl dealt with them. I enjoyed the movie all over again. I'm not sure if the movie was a hit.
I liked the way the story evolved, I liked the acting. I liked the way the complexes of the man surfaces , his reactions to the comments of people around, I liked the way how the girl dealt with them. I enjoyed the movie all over again. I'm not sure if the movie was a hit.
Monday, November 06, 2006
More about Blogging and me.
1. Are you happy/satisfied with your blog, with its content and look? Does your family know about your blog?
Yes, I’m satisfied with the look of my blog which was given to me by my dear friend Aalapana. I’m not good at tinkering with the template. However, of late, I find I’m increasignly feeling discontented with the contents of my blog. There is a listlessness, a sense of dissatisfaction with what I’m writing. I feel the need to write more, better. I remember the sense of ‘thripthi´( satisfaction) I used to feel long ago after I had posted. This feeling I do not experience nowadays.
2. Does your family know about your blog?
Yes, a few of my family members do know that I blog, and a couple of them do read my posts too.
3. Do you feel embarrassed to let your friends know about your blog or do you consider it a private thing?
I do not feel embarrassed but yes, I do hesitate to let all my friends know about my blog, but that is only because I don’t want the awareness to interfere with my spontanaeity in expression.
4. Did Blogs have a positive change in your thoughts?
Yes, I can confidently say that blogging has brought about a positive change in my thoughts. In the beginning, I was extremely encouraged by the the feedback I got, and that gave me a boost of confidence. The interaction in the virtual world enriched my life and has given me much happiness.
Reading others’ blogs has opened up a fascinating world of myriad experiences, perspectives, ideas.I’ve immensely enjoyed marveling the writing skills of several bloggers – their wrting styles, sense of humour. It has indeed changed my attitude to life in several ways.
5. Do you only open the blogs of those who comment on your blog or do you love to go and discover new blogs for yourself?
No, I go blog hopping from the comments section of other bloggers too. I love discovering new blogs and I’ve a really long list of blogs to read saved in my pc. I don’t always leave comments though.
6. What does the visitor counter mean to you? do you care about putting it on your blog?
When I first installed the site meter, I used to follow it up very religiously. I used to be thrilled to see the number of people who visit my page. But nowadays, I don’t look it up at all. So, now if there are no comments on my blog, I’m not sure if anybody has even read my post.
7. Do you try to imagine your fellow bloggers and give them real pictures?
I don’t always imagine the faces of the other bloggers, but I’ve wondered how they might look on a couple of occasions when there had been a prospect of meeting a few of them. But in the virtual world, it is more of interacting with thoughts and the faces doesn’t really matter.
8. Do you think there is a real benefit to blogging?
For me , Yes, I do think there is a real benefit to blogging .
9. Do you think that bloggers society is isolated from the real world or interacts with events?
Not really, because Ifeel that blogs mostly reflect real lfie experiences, thoughts. In fact , perhaps more real because the anonymity helps the blogger to be utterly honest than one would perhaps be in real life.
10. Does criticism annoy you or do you feel it is a normal thing?
Healthy and constructive criticism is a good thing. However if the intent is simply malicious then it is best ignored.
11. Do you fear some political blogs and do you avoid them?
Politics do not interest me, and conflicting ideologies if not tempered with tolerance cause unpleasant situations sometimes and I prefer to stay away from such scenario.
12. Did you get shocked by the arrest of some bloggers?
I was not aware of the arrests and if the arrests were to prevent harmful situations, I guess it may be justified, but ideally freedom of expression on blogs without misuse should be prevalent.
13. Do you think about what will happen to your blog after you die?
Hmm. . in fact this thought had occurred to me at some random moment. I guess my blogspace would just stop getting updated,obviously and then perhaps a few regular readers (?) might wonder what happened to me. I do have a couple of friends in the virtual world who do try to call me up and check if I‘m doing fine, if I remain silent for a stretch of time, and then may be these friends would mention it on their posts!
14. Which blogger has made the greatest impression on you?
Quite a fewof them and for different reasons. It is difficult to mention just one, still I would say Hip Hop grand mom, Akeeyu, Star gazer Lalita, Velu, Usha, Megha.
15. Which blogger you think is most similar to you?
I would not be able to say that any blogger is similar to me- but at various times, I’ve come across similar tracks of thought, similar ways of expression in different blogs. Sometimes uncanny and sometimes just random coincidences. I remember having read somewhere that how much ever one likes to believe that one is unique, still every thought, feeling and idea has been borne into minds again and again. In fact it is because of being able to relate to some thoughts and ideas, that one enjoys readingthem expressed by others.
Yes, I’m satisfied with the look of my blog which was given to me by my dear friend Aalapana. I’m not good at tinkering with the template. However, of late, I find I’m increasignly feeling discontented with the contents of my blog. There is a listlessness, a sense of dissatisfaction with what I’m writing. I feel the need to write more, better. I remember the sense of ‘thripthi´( satisfaction) I used to feel long ago after I had posted. This feeling I do not experience nowadays.
2. Does your family know about your blog?
Yes, a few of my family members do know that I blog, and a couple of them do read my posts too.
3. Do you feel embarrassed to let your friends know about your blog or do you consider it a private thing?
I do not feel embarrassed but yes, I do hesitate to let all my friends know about my blog, but that is only because I don’t want the awareness to interfere with my spontanaeity in expression.
4. Did Blogs have a positive change in your thoughts?
Yes, I can confidently say that blogging has brought about a positive change in my thoughts. In the beginning, I was extremely encouraged by the the feedback I got, and that gave me a boost of confidence. The interaction in the virtual world enriched my life and has given me much happiness.
Reading others’ blogs has opened up a fascinating world of myriad experiences, perspectives, ideas.I’ve immensely enjoyed marveling the writing skills of several bloggers – their wrting styles, sense of humour. It has indeed changed my attitude to life in several ways.
5. Do you only open the blogs of those who comment on your blog or do you love to go and discover new blogs for yourself?
No, I go blog hopping from the comments section of other bloggers too. I love discovering new blogs and I’ve a really long list of blogs to read saved in my pc. I don’t always leave comments though.
6. What does the visitor counter mean to you? do you care about putting it on your blog?
When I first installed the site meter, I used to follow it up very religiously. I used to be thrilled to see the number of people who visit my page. But nowadays, I don’t look it up at all. So, now if there are no comments on my blog, I’m not sure if anybody has even read my post.
7. Do you try to imagine your fellow bloggers and give them real pictures?
I don’t always imagine the faces of the other bloggers, but I’ve wondered how they might look on a couple of occasions when there had been a prospect of meeting a few of them. But in the virtual world, it is more of interacting with thoughts and the faces doesn’t really matter.
8. Do you think there is a real benefit to blogging?
For me , Yes, I do think there is a real benefit to blogging .
9. Do you think that bloggers society is isolated from the real world or interacts with events?
Not really, because Ifeel that blogs mostly reflect real lfie experiences, thoughts. In fact , perhaps more real because the anonymity helps the blogger to be utterly honest than one would perhaps be in real life.
10. Does criticism annoy you or do you feel it is a normal thing?
Healthy and constructive criticism is a good thing. However if the intent is simply malicious then it is best ignored.
11. Do you fear some political blogs and do you avoid them?
Politics do not interest me, and conflicting ideologies if not tempered with tolerance cause unpleasant situations sometimes and I prefer to stay away from such scenario.
12. Did you get shocked by the arrest of some bloggers?
I was not aware of the arrests and if the arrests were to prevent harmful situations, I guess it may be justified, but ideally freedom of expression on blogs without misuse should be prevalent.
13. Do you think about what will happen to your blog after you die?
Hmm. . in fact this thought had occurred to me at some random moment. I guess my blogspace would just stop getting updated,obviously and then perhaps a few regular readers (?) might wonder what happened to me. I do have a couple of friends in the virtual world who do try to call me up and check if I‘m doing fine, if I remain silent for a stretch of time, and then may be these friends would mention it on their posts!
14. Which blogger has made the greatest impression on you?
Quite a fewof them and for different reasons. It is difficult to mention just one, still I would say Hip Hop grand mom, Akeeyu, Star gazer Lalita, Velu, Usha, Megha.
15. Which blogger you think is most similar to you?
I would not be able to say that any blogger is similar to me- but at various times, I’ve come across similar tracks of thought, similar ways of expression in different blogs. Sometimes uncanny and sometimes just random coincidences. I remember having read somewhere that how much ever one likes to believe that one is unique, still every thought, feeling and idea has been borne into minds again and again. In fact it is because of being able to relate to some thoughts and ideas, that one enjoys readingthem expressed by others.
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
What Blogging has come to mean to me...
Blogging to me in the beginning was a way to cleanse my innermost thoughts. A medium to air all the conflicts and clashes that collected like grime and fogged my mind and soul. I did not have the courage to express my opinions to others clearly. I would try to but when the other person was louder and more vehement, then I would just clam up after a time; but the thoughts and words would keep struggling to come to the outside. For this purpose I resorted to blogging- I had this need to be honest, completely honest to myself. I felt stifled with the veneer of politeness that one had to adopt in daily life to avoid confrontations, to ensure peace; and blogging was the outlet for me- it gave me clarity of thought, it helped me sort out things within myself and then move on without pending accounts. - (Eternal Quest). … I wanted to express thoughts and ideas that I wouldn’t acknowledge to real life me. (Deliverance). Needless to say, the encouraging comments from the other bloggers helped a lot.
And for this, I started out with a pseudonym- how I coined the name Ardra Vamshi is no longer a clear memory. I always liked the sound of the name Ardra- I liked the meaning too I guess. Anyway for me it was just a pseudonym- an anonymous mask I wore. I’m not very sure as to what I wanted to hide. I think that I wanted to give voice to certain sounds, words that I would not be able to express in the real world.
And for this, I started out with a pseudonym- how I coined the name Ardra Vamshi is no longer a clear memory. I always liked the sound of the name Ardra- I liked the meaning too I guess. Anyway for me it was just a pseudonym- an anonymous mask I wore. I’m not very sure as to what I wanted to hide. I think that I wanted to give voice to certain sounds, words that I would not be able to express in the real world.
Time and again, we feel bound to stick to definitions of ourselves sometimes given to us by others or sometimes as we perceive ourselves; and that somehow curbs our spontaneous responses, gestures, actions. Sometimes these boxes are deliberately created by us and sometimes they evolve on their own without us being aware of it. People around us form their own perceptions of us coloured by their own experiences and attitudes; and when they respond to us accordingly, we unconsciously react according to these perceptions, thus fulfilling their perceptions of us. The image cultivation is not deliberate, it just evolves. However, at times we might deviate from these perceptions...we inadvertently provide a glimpse to the real us now and then and slowly the veneer between the real and the virtual dissolves.
Ardra- when she started blogging was a different person- then the other bloggers began responding in a particular way, and Ardra was evolving accordingly. Though Ardra was definitely a part of N; but only in parts. I realized that in spite of the pseudonym- an assumed identity, I still was expressing only selectively. Though my blogs have always been spontaneous, I saw that I had chosen to explore only certain aspects of my life on my blogs; not because I wanted to keep some aspects hidden but only because I was comfortable that way. I realized that Ardra could not be different from N.
Gradually, more of N spilled thru into Ardra and now I think Ardra and N have merged into a single identity. There is no longer a need to vent or rant; at least nothing that I wouldn’t be able to sort out in Real life either. Now it’s only about talking, conversing, sharing. I’ve become comfortable with my thoughts, reactions and ideas. I’ve become comfortable with whatever perception other bloggers may form about Ardra. This acceptance has come about because most bloggers I read are very honest, very brave about expressing themselves and most bloggers too accept the honesty non judgmentally.
And seeing my thoughts crystallised into words on the coloured template on the monitor gives me a strange sense of high which eliminates all the negativity within me, and I’m at peace with the world and Life :-)
My first post ( on sulekha)- a creative attempt-
An offering from my Heart
Monday, October 23, 2006
My Blogging style?
What is your basic writing style?
I’m not sure if I have a writing style. I just use language to express my thoughts or sometimes lack of thoughts, ideas, feelings, emotions.
What do you tend to express best?
Emotions. Feelings?
What do you find hard to accomplish ?
Post on a daily basis. I get stuck many times. I wish to write more often, not just here but also on my Creative Dabbles page.
How long do you take over compiling a post?
That depends on my mood, motivation and what I’ve to say. When I’m inspired, I do it in a matter of minutes, the words just tumble out in a hurry to escape. I don’t attempt if I don’t feel like it. Of late, I feel my thoughts and words have become repetititve.
Do you feel the urge to make a post everyday or atleast every other day, because you enjoy blogging or do you post only when there is something definite to say?
I wish I could post something interesting every other day atleast. I feel incomplete if I don’t post . I don’t post necessarily to say something specific. Its more a result of some strong feeling, thought and when my mind is empty of thoughts it shows in my posts too.
Do you work on multiple posts at a time saved as drafts or do you work single mindedly from post to post.?
No, I don’t work on multiple posts- except when I used to post a series on my childhood memories , Hostel life and then a few movie stories that I posted in episodes. For thes, I used to compile the matter at one go and then post them one after the other. I remember how I could hardly wait for the next day to post the next episode.
Any particular time of day or night that you generally post during? While at work or from home?
During the day, after I finish the chores around my home. I post from home.
Has blogging helped you in any way? If so how?
Oh yes, Blogging has helped in more than one way. I have enjoyed translating my thoughts into words and then having it out here on the net . It has given me a sense of satisfaction, it has introduced me to many nice people and I’ve made many friends this way. It has given me glimpses into varied ideas, perspectives, experiences. I’ve enjoyed marveling the writing skill of some of the bloggers- their writing style, skill over the language, sense of humour.
How long have you been blogging?
I first started blogging in Sulekha in June 2003. I started recording my thoughts on Twilight Musings in December 2004.
I’m not sure if I have a writing style. I just use language to express my thoughts or sometimes lack of thoughts, ideas, feelings, emotions.
What do you tend to express best?
Emotions. Feelings?
What do you find hard to accomplish ?
Post on a daily basis. I get stuck many times. I wish to write more often, not just here but also on my Creative Dabbles page.
How long do you take over compiling a post?
That depends on my mood, motivation and what I’ve to say. When I’m inspired, I do it in a matter of minutes, the words just tumble out in a hurry to escape. I don’t attempt if I don’t feel like it. Of late, I feel my thoughts and words have become repetititve.
Do you feel the urge to make a post everyday or atleast every other day, because you enjoy blogging or do you post only when there is something definite to say?
I wish I could post something interesting every other day atleast. I feel incomplete if I don’t post . I don’t post necessarily to say something specific. Its more a result of some strong feeling, thought and when my mind is empty of thoughts it shows in my posts too.
Do you work on multiple posts at a time saved as drafts or do you work single mindedly from post to post.?
No, I don’t work on multiple posts- except when I used to post a series on my childhood memories , Hostel life and then a few movie stories that I posted in episodes. For thes, I used to compile the matter at one go and then post them one after the other. I remember how I could hardly wait for the next day to post the next episode.
Any particular time of day or night that you generally post during? While at work or from home?
During the day, after I finish the chores around my home. I post from home.
Has blogging helped you in any way? If so how?
Oh yes, Blogging has helped in more than one way. I have enjoyed translating my thoughts into words and then having it out here on the net . It has given me a sense of satisfaction, it has introduced me to many nice people and I’ve made many friends this way. It has given me glimpses into varied ideas, perspectives, experiences. I’ve enjoyed marveling the writing skill of some of the bloggers- their writing style, skill over the language, sense of humour.
How long have you been blogging?
I first started blogging in Sulekha in June 2003. I started recording my thoughts on Twilight Musings in December 2004.
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
My sons’ room is always in a state of mess- and whenever I enter their room they go into panic mode. The bed would be littered with books, clothes- the floor strewn with bags, papers- their desk is a treasure trove. Sometimes when I tell them to tidy up they just push things under the bed. Yesterday as I sashayed into their room, both of them ran after me- and pointed to the door- there was this hand made poster stuck to it which said
DANGER ZONE –
NO MOMS ALLOWED-(* esp Moms with sharp canines)
* an allusion to my Dracula tooth
DANGER ZONE –
NO MOMS ALLOWED-(* esp Moms with sharp canines)
* an allusion to my Dracula tooth
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Crossing Milestones
Life is a continuing series of milestones; to where, one is not sure. We just keep crossing each as we go and mostly its only after we cross one do we realize the significance.
The week before last, we had relatives coming over for a few days from Kerala. We went with them on a trip. We went without my elder son. He was Home Alone for the first time- that is overnight. He has stayed back many times when we went for short outings. Well, this time he was to represent his school in a few Interschool competitions and there was no way he could accompany us. I was a bit apprehensive, but he was thrilled to stay back on his own. My husband too felt that we should allow him to stay back. After a million instructions, we left without him. My younger son was in tears as he waved Goodbye to his ettan (elder brother). It was not a long trip, we would be back by the next evening.
The week before last, we had relatives coming over for a few days from Kerala. We went with them on a trip. We went without my elder son. He was Home Alone for the first time- that is overnight. He has stayed back many times when we went for short outings. Well, this time he was to represent his school in a few Interschool competitions and there was no way he could accompany us. I was a bit apprehensive, but he was thrilled to stay back on his own. My husband too felt that we should allow him to stay back. After a million instructions, we left without him. My younger son was in tears as he waved Goodbye to his ettan (elder brother). It was not a long trip, we would be back by the next evening.
Anyways, he managed well- without ME! I was happy, relieved and yet there was a vague sense of loss…Because it reminds me that I’m slowly nearing the phase when he will become truly independent and realise that I’m having mixed feelings.
Today, when I’m composing mails/ blogs, and they intrude into my thoughts, I sometimes get impatient and ask them to leave me alone - tomorrow when they leave the nest- will my space and time mock me?
Of late, I’ve been reading so many tags abt “Heights”-concerning babies/ toddlers of the bloggers. And I find myself yearning to be around a baby, hold, cuddle a baby…
Monday, October 16, 2006
Stagnant thoughts
I’m so bored- bored with my style of writing, bored with my thoughts, bored with my words, sentences - so much that though I feel the need to post, I don’t feel like posting what I write. I want to write differently- each time. But I don’t know how to- this is the only way I can. I go bloghopping around at least 100 blogs- covering my blog roll and the other list that I’ve collected on my list of favourites in my PC- and I wish I could write like some of them.
I realize that had I been a reader of my posts, I wouldn’t have added my URL to my list of favourites. I do like some of them but those were written long ago.
But like I said this is the way I write and I know no other way. I seem to draw a blank now. I feel the need to express in words but I’m not satisfied with the attempts. What could be the reason, I try to delve- lack of topics, lack of thoughts, lack of vocabulary- I don’t know. I’m just bored I guess. In spite of the need to reach out to the virtual world- in spite of the need to write for my own self, I’m still unable to do so. Actually, I’ve picked up a couple of tags while bloghopping and kept it in reserve- to post when I feel the need desperately.
I first entered blogging through Sulekha- in June 2003. I steeped into the arena gingerly, with hesitant steps not knowing what to expect, but gradually there formed this circle of bloggers with whom one became friends. It was such fun and these friends were as dear to me as my real life friends. But with time, changes happened.
Today, when I go to Sulekha, I can see a similar camaraderie among the current bloggers there. Now, when I go there, I feel the feeling that one feels when one visits one’s College campus after many years. One remembers the familiar landmarks, the sense of belonging/ proprietorship with nostalgia.. However, to the current generation one is an outsider and that seems strange. One feels like going up to them and telling them- "Excuse me, I too belonged here once, and by the way, you’re stepping on my footprints". :-)
May be thats how Rip Wan Winkle must've felt when he woke up after years.
But then it does not matter. Nothing matters. No regrets. It just is. And I accept it.
My pc crashed yet again the other day, and once again I lost the list of favourites that I had stored in my pc- those other than the ones on my blogroll. And I’m painstakingly compiling them again. I go bloghopping on every site on both my lists, but I hardly comment these days. This is because I do most of my reading offline and hence it is difficult to post comments on the spur of the moment. Besides by the time I reach the different blogs, everything to be said would’ve already been said and so I leave no footprints.
My pc crashed yet again the other day, and once again I lost the list of favourites that I had stored in my pc- those other than the ones on my blogroll. And I’m painstakingly compiling them again. I go bloghopping on every site on both my lists, but I hardly comment these days. This is because I do most of my reading offline and hence it is difficult to post comments on the spur of the moment. Besides by the time I reach the different blogs, everything to be said would’ve already been said and so I leave no footprints.
Thursday, October 12, 2006
I was tagged by Aalapana many days ago, but being busy cud not get down to this earlier. Compiling this one was difficult because one has too many favourites. However enjoyed doing this one.
Your favourite lyricist and the lyrics you remember the most:
Your favourite lyricist and the lyrics you remember the most:
Gulzar.
Haath chhoote bhi to rishte nahin choda karte
Waqt ki shakh se lamhein nahin toda karte… ( Maraasim- Jagjit Singh)
Your favourite song on friendship
Tho this song was not about Friendship, a very dear friend used to sing this song during college days- and we associate eachother with this song and so it has become synonymous with Friendship for me-
Tum mujhe yoon bhula na paaoge
Jab kabhi bhi sunoge geet mere
Sang sang tum bhi gungunaaoge… ( pagla kahin ka- Mohammed Rafi)
Best song portraying life’s emotions; about life, full of life
Zindagi milke bitaayenge hale dil gaake sunaayenge
Hum to saat rang hai
Yeh jahaan rangeen banaayenge ( Satte pe satta)
Ramayya Vastavayya (Shri 420)
Which song are you humming today?
Who lamhein who baatein
Koi na jaane
Thi kaisi ratein
Barsaatein
Who bheegi bheegi yaadein… (Zeher)
One song which brings tears to your eyes
Tere mere milan ki yeh raina
Naya koi gul khilaayegi
Abhi to chanchal hai teri naina
Dekho na…
Nanha sa gul khilega angana
Sooni bayya sajegi sajna ( Abhimaan- Kishore Kumar, Lata)
A song which gives you hope, reason to try again and again, a reason to say that life is beautiful
Dukh bhare din beete re bhaiyya
Ab such aayo re
Rang jeevan mein naya laayo re ( Mother India)
When you want to be with yourself, silent and content but with music, with song would that be?
Saanjh dhale gagan tale
Hum kitne ekaaki (Utsav)
If you have to express your love for someone with a song which would that be
I’ve many songs for this situation:
Hamein tum se pyaar kitna
Yeh hum nahin jaante
Magar jee nahin sakte tumhare bina (Kudrat)
Na jiya laage na
Tere bina mera kahin
Jiya laage naa… (Anand)
Chalo dildaar chalo
Chand ke paar chalo
Hum hai tayyar chalo ( Paakeeza)
Bahon mein chale aao..
Ho, hum se sanam kya parda ( Anamika)
Five songs which you listen to the most
Very difficult to limit these to 5:
Abhi na jaao chhodkar
Ki dil abhi bhara nahin ( Hum Dono- Mohammed Rafi, Asha)
Piya bina piya bina baasiyaan ( Abhimaan)
Roz roz daali daale
kya likh jaaye bhavra...baavra ( Angoor)
Megha chaayi aadhi raat …( Sharmilee- Lata)
Mil gayi aaj do lehrein kuchh is tarha
Ab na manzil mile to koi gam nahin (Yeh Vaada Raha)
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Display of Affection
Atul asked in his latest blog :
“Can you love to the point of embarrassing the one you love?”
And this set me thinking- I’ve always thought of myself as someone who has often embarassed a few people with my love- not love exactly but with my display of affection. During my younger days, I had absolutely no qualms in expressing my affection. During the initial years of my mariage too, I was the same- with my new family members. But I could see that they were not used to such external display of affection- they were caught unawares- they were non plussed- and didn’t know how to react sometimes- tho I felt that they were pleased still- just that they did not know how to react- and slowly with the passage of years, I lost my ability to express as I used to- it was so gradual a change that I myself did not notice. And now when someone hugs me- I’m taken by surprise- and though I like the spontaneity of the gesture- I realise I don’t know how to react!
For me , there have been moments when literally I’ve felt so much love that I cant contain it- and I feel choked in a strange way- simply becos I’ve lost touch with how to express my overflowing emotion- I sill am able to express my affection with the people who are closest but with the people just beyond this innermost circle - I’m no longer able to- I’m afraid of embarassing them- and yes, I miss not being able to express it.
“Can you love to the point of embarrassing the one you love?”
And this set me thinking- I’ve always thought of myself as someone who has often embarassed a few people with my love- not love exactly but with my display of affection. During my younger days, I had absolutely no qualms in expressing my affection. During the initial years of my mariage too, I was the same- with my new family members. But I could see that they were not used to such external display of affection- they were caught unawares- they were non plussed- and didn’t know how to react sometimes- tho I felt that they were pleased still- just that they did not know how to react- and slowly with the passage of years, I lost my ability to express as I used to- it was so gradual a change that I myself did not notice. And now when someone hugs me- I’m taken by surprise- and though I like the spontaneity of the gesture- I realise I don’t know how to react!
For me , there have been moments when literally I’ve felt so much love that I cant contain it- and I feel choked in a strange way- simply becos I’ve lost touch with how to express my overflowing emotion- I sill am able to express my affection with the people who are closest but with the people just beyond this innermost circle - I’m no longer able to- I’m afraid of embarassing them- and yes, I miss not being able to express it.
Monday, September 18, 2006
Yet another Tag!
Karin took the trouble to give me the questions of the tag on the comments of my previous post- and so here I’m –Thank You Karin- I enjoyed doing this one.
1) Was there any incident in your life which you feel, influenced you in particular?
Many incidents, I guess: Marriage, birth of my children, Death of my grandfather, and one another unpleasant incident which I don’t want to remember any more.
1) Was there any incident in your life which you feel, influenced you in particular?
Many incidents, I guess: Marriage, birth of my children, Death of my grandfather, and one another unpleasant incident which I don’t want to remember any more.
2) What are you afraid of? Please name at least ONE example!
I’m paranoid abt the health and well being of my loved ones.
3) Is there any nature-event, you particularly like (i.e. thunderstorm, rain, snow ect.)?
I like it best when the sky is overcast and there is a yellow glow in the horizon - just before the rains. There is something of the air then that makes me feel at peace- I don’t like heavy rains.
4) What kind of sport (if any) are you fond of or even actively pursue?
I’m afraid I’ve no interest in sports at all. I don’t even watch any sports. While in school, I used to participate in Running and Skipping relays and have even managed to win a few times but I was never passionate abt it. I loved running but the pressure of competing always put me off. ( if interested you may look up the answer to the question on my profile page and you’ll understand)
5) Do you easily get nervous or upset? "Blow up"?
Yes, I think I do- but may be I’m able to control my flare ups a little better nowadays. Atleast that’s what I’d like to believe- I must ask my children. I tend to get nervous when I’m getting late or even if I’m worried I’ll be late. Then another thing that completely rocks me up is when my loved ones fall sick. Then I’ve to really make a conscious effort to calm myself and think positive.
6) Do you dread getting older? Feel the biological clock ticking?
Well, while I don't actually 'dread' getting older, still when I spot yet another grey strand, I admit that something rankles somewhere. There have been random moments when I look into the mirror and have wondered if age is finally making footprints over my face/neck…but then I don’t brood over it. And now that I've started learning Bharathanatyam again, I've discovered that some postures which used to be very easy long ago now causes some agony. This does remind me that I'm no longer as agile as I used to be. I want to focus more on being healthy and cheerful.
7) Are you more a city-person or prefere the country-side?
I like the amenities of city life and the peace of the country side. It would be nice to visit the country side once in a while . Trichy does not feel too much like a bustling city and that helps, I guess.
8) Do you allow any kind of fashion to rule over your taste?
Not much, at least not beyond an experiment with the shape of the neckline of my kurta or sari- blouse.
9) Are you more on the introverted or extroverted side?
10) If you'd have to characterize yourself with one sentence - what would you say?
I guess I am an impulsive person who cannot hide emotions, and I love to laugh (guffaw) out loud without inhibition .
Friday, September 15, 2006
Not been tagged, yet...
During my bloghopping rounds, I saw Lalita’s tag- which later disappeared mysteriously- and I remembered the name of the blogger who had tagged her and so I tracked Chet from her comments – and took up the tag- I went around and have tracked down a couple more tags- but I’ll reserve those for a rainy day- meaning for another day when I’m stuck with nothing to blog abt…
So here’s the first one:
Which is the single best post you’ve read on any blog?
Too many to list actually- but right now I remember Scarlett’s post – the most recent one- I love her style of writing.
Which is the best post you’ve written ? which is the worst?
I really can’t say. Sometimes I’m very excited about what I’m about to post- the feeling vapourises soon after. And at other times, I do not feel too good abt a post- and yet I go ahead- but then sometimes the comments later make me feel gratified enough.
I think I like this one:
Shared Milestones.
How abt a place you’ve never been to but would very much like to?
I’m not too keen abt traveling- and am happiest at home- and so had to do a bit of thinking here and decided on Mercara- have seen it in a Malayalam movie- and remember thinking I would like to go there.
If you were a member of the opposite sex, what would you’ve done differently?
Again my imagination fails me. I find I’m just unable to think as a member of the opposite sex. Still, may be I would try to be the most romantic kind of man to my woman (chuckle- the very thought makes me giggle).I’m just able to think beyond this feminine perspective. That sets me thinking- Are souls female/ male/ asexual?? I wonder…
Do you remember a childhood recurring dream or nightmare? Good or bad tell us abt it:
More than one- and I still see them sometimes but it does not bother me afterwards.
I see myself being late – for something- somewhere.
I see myself appearing for an exam with no preparation.
I see myself losing my way- forgetting my way back.
I see an overflowing dirty toilet.
And err..I see myself being spied upon when changing.
I also used to see myself as having very long, thick tresses- not any more tho- finally guess I’ve accepted that its never to be.
Make me laugh, make me cry- put your words to it:
This is difficult. I mean I just can’t command words to my whim- so let me just post a link- which I hope does not atleast make you want to cry: Scholastic Lullabies
Do you regret the unfulfilled dream, inaccessible roads, uncharted lands?
No regrets as such- yes, a couple of dreams more- which if fulfilled I would consider as bonus. I would say that I’m pretty content with the way things are.
What is a friend to you? What are you to a friend?
A friend to me is someone whom I love, care for deeply- someone, whose happiness matters to me a lot- someone whom I need to reach out to, keep in touch often- doesn’t matter if they don’t/can’t find time. A friend is someone with whom I can be just be myself with no masks- fear of judgment .
Me as a friend- I don’t know if I can claim of being of any real, tangible help to a friend- I just know I feel lot of affection for my friends. I can only hope that I’ve been a good, caring friend to my friends.
A friend is someone who remains- irrespective of the geographical distance- with or without the background score, with or without the props or the prompter- with or without make up, with or without applause or may be even an audience- a friend remains even after the curtain falls…
T.S.Elliot measured his life with coffee spoons. How abt you?
With Icecream scoops- dollops of Life- every moment to be slurped, savoured, relished- and then sit back with the remembered flavors…
Write your own epitaph or if that is too hard how would you like your epitaph to read?
Someone who loved, relished and savoured “Love”
Someone who loved, relished and savoured being Loved
Someone who is very grateful for every moment, every experience, every person who crossed her path, grateful for every single memory…
So here’s the first one:
Which is the single best post you’ve read on any blog?
Too many to list actually- but right now I remember Scarlett’s post – the most recent one- I love her style of writing.
Which is the best post you’ve written ? which is the worst?
I really can’t say. Sometimes I’m very excited about what I’m about to post- the feeling vapourises soon after. And at other times, I do not feel too good abt a post- and yet I go ahead- but then sometimes the comments later make me feel gratified enough.
I think I like this one:
Shared Milestones.
How abt a place you’ve never been to but would very much like to?
I’m not too keen abt traveling- and am happiest at home- and so had to do a bit of thinking here and decided on Mercara- have seen it in a Malayalam movie- and remember thinking I would like to go there.
If you were a member of the opposite sex, what would you’ve done differently?
Again my imagination fails me. I find I’m just unable to think as a member of the opposite sex. Still, may be I would try to be the most romantic kind of man to my woman (chuckle- the very thought makes me giggle).I’m just able to think beyond this feminine perspective. That sets me thinking- Are souls female/ male/ asexual?? I wonder…
Do you remember a childhood recurring dream or nightmare? Good or bad tell us abt it:
More than one- and I still see them sometimes but it does not bother me afterwards.
I see myself being late – for something- somewhere.
I see myself appearing for an exam with no preparation.
I see myself losing my way- forgetting my way back.
I see an overflowing dirty toilet.
And err..I see myself being spied upon when changing.
I also used to see myself as having very long, thick tresses- not any more tho- finally guess I’ve accepted that its never to be.
Make me laugh, make me cry- put your words to it:
This is difficult. I mean I just can’t command words to my whim- so let me just post a link- which I hope does not atleast make you want to cry: Scholastic Lullabies
Do you regret the unfulfilled dream, inaccessible roads, uncharted lands?
No regrets as such- yes, a couple of dreams more- which if fulfilled I would consider as bonus. I would say that I’m pretty content with the way things are.
What is a friend to you? What are you to a friend?
A friend to me is someone whom I love, care for deeply- someone, whose happiness matters to me a lot- someone whom I need to reach out to, keep in touch often- doesn’t matter if they don’t/can’t find time. A friend is someone with whom I can be just be myself with no masks- fear of judgment .
Me as a friend- I don’t know if I can claim of being of any real, tangible help to a friend- I just know I feel lot of affection for my friends. I can only hope that I’ve been a good, caring friend to my friends.
A friend is someone who remains- irrespective of the geographical distance- with or without the background score, with or without the props or the prompter- with or without make up, with or without applause or may be even an audience- a friend remains even after the curtain falls…
T.S.Elliot measured his life with coffee spoons. How abt you?
With Icecream scoops- dollops of Life- every moment to be slurped, savoured, relished- and then sit back with the remembered flavors…
Write your own epitaph or if that is too hard how would you like your epitaph to read?
Someone who loved, relished and savoured “Love”
Someone who loved, relished and savoured being Loved
Someone who is very grateful for every moment, every experience, every person who crossed her path, grateful for every single memory…
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
R.I.P Steve Irwin
I was running around the house getting the chores done. It was Onam and my parents had come down to visit. There was plenty to do when my elder son called me with a dazed expression. He showed me a hedline in the paper- Steve Irwin killed in action!
All that I knew about Steve was from what my son used to tell me. All the tid bits of information that he gave me which I listened to sometimes absently, sometimes raptly. I was aware that my son admired the man and he had even told me that some day he hoped to go to Austrlaia and learn under Irwin. And now, this man was no more- I paused- I couldn’t believe it- I hadn’t even watched him on T.V- just from what my son had shared with me- I felt I had known him .
Needless to say, my son was extremely upset. Later, I read about him on the net, papers. He had so many fans and admirers all over the world. It is indeed a colossal loss to the animal world and animal lovers.
Needless to say, my son was extremely upset. Later, I read about him on the net, papers. He had so many fans and admirers all over the world. It is indeed a colossal loss to the animal world and animal lovers.
Of course among the umpteen adulatory obituaries, there was the random comment- accusing Irwin of having been too daring, to the point of craziness, and I found myself thinking on similar lines too- meaning I wished he had been a bit more cautious, careful. Now, his family had to face this irreparable loss- his children had become fatherless.
On Sunday, I watched the Marathon tribute to the Crocodile Hunter on Animal Planet- and I realized that the man was sooooo passionate about what he did. He just couldn’t have behaved in any other way. He clearly knew what he was doing, what he was dealing with, and he loved every bit. Passion has a way of propelling one to unimaginable limits- it’s a driving force one just can’t resist. Like Steve had said in one of his documentaries, He was put on this planet exclusively for animal conservation and creating awareness about endangered wild life. And in spite of a relatively short life, I guess he has gone a long way in achieving this.
But he’s gone now, in the most unbelievable, unexpected way- when though one had always kind of expected something of this sort to happen, now one realises that one had almost thought that he was invincible-
May his family find the strength and fortitude to bear this loss.
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