Oh, By the way...

The Master of Fine Arts

2010-09-15T10:17:00.005-04:00

There is no dearth of great tennis matches in the history of the game and certainly no dearth of legends. The man in question may / may not be considered one of them, but what he did this Monday does bring hope that this game is an art as long as the one who is playing it knows what he is doing. And it does help that he is a gentleman and has a sweet smile on an otherwise serious face.

Rain delayed US Open Men's final - It started off with the artist spreading his canvas and warming up with his slow and deliberate strokes, somewhat playing by the books. A few games into the first set, it was not the artist painting any more, but a symphony violinist at work. Imagine one at the height of the concert, with his eyes closed, his hands and fingers moving almost insanely and yet producing perfect notes, one after another, creating music that is strong and determined, yet mesmerizing.

Just when I started thinking, this was going to be another formality, Set 2 happened. 3 costly mistakes when being down 5-6, especially that weak half-volley did seal the deal in this set for the opponent who was now standing in the way of history being made. Oh wow, our man who till now seemed like he was from some other planet, was human indeed. And that is what made the following two sets even more incredible.

History was stacked against his favor, no south paw has won in 26 years for example. Could the opponent pull another fast one like he did in the semifinals. Set3 saw the transformation of our man into an architect. He was building his dream city, defying rules and that included geometry and gravity. Down the line winners and cross court stunners made novices like me feel like it was no big deal. And there was no lack of innovation. The court seemed as if was the twice the size that it was, with both players showing enough appetite to consume court-side area too. Our man's opponent ran a million times across the baseline and I was surprised that he did not pass out. Serving for set, our artist decides to do it with three killer serves in a row. That was probably what finally convinced the Tennis Gods that our man did deserve this.

Set 4 was more a formality. The python had crippled its prey, rendered it motionless and now all that was left was to devour it. And thats what happened.

One of the commentators summed up saying "This is the best I have seen Novak serve and if with that Rafa made him sweat for every point on his serve, I do not know what else to say" Our artist would go home with a career grand slam under his belt and be proof that nice guys do finish first too. His opponent for now will have to consider himself fortunate to have bagged a set.

Paradox

2010-06-19T16:15:00.006-04:00

That Wednesday, the guy running out of the gym, sweating profusely, obviously just out from a great work-out, seemed a little axious, until he opened his car trunk and rummaged through his sports bag impatiently, found what he was looking for, lifted up his head and and lit up a cigarette and exhaled.
Satisfaction replaced anxiety !

Once more...

2010-05-06T23:53:00.002-04:00

Just about to pass through yet another "via" point...
One more reason to reminisce...
One more opportunity to 'miss' something...
One more discovery of the same truth "Life here was not bad after all"...
One more to add to my "When I lived in.." stories...

A new and better world awaits. But for now, I just want to linger.. just a little bit longer until it is time for...
One more "Dasvidania"

Gyaan for the week

2010-02-19T18:46:00.003-05:00

Boy, Practicing is indeed tougher than preaching !! Can I be 18 again ???

Random Ramble

2010-01-18T03:50:00.005-05:00

Remember that day when you were 6 ? And you passed by that "poochandi" on the street who looked "interesting", "different", but weird... Remember feeling sad after Dad told you he was not a poochandi, but someone who had no food, no home, no toys, no friends and how lucky you were to have all that... Remember choking up when mom fed you that night and narrated your favorite story.. Remembered how it made no sense when Dad said "That is Life" when you asked how many and why such people were there...

And after all those years it is one of those rare days, you are enjoying a travel with a relatively empty mind, with no books in hand, with the cell phone out of charge and forgetting the ipod at home. You wonder why you do not do this more often. You pass by someone on the street, who looks very similar to the numerous "poochandi"s of your childhood... You wonder at what point you stopped wondering "why" and when "That is life" became an acceptable explanation... And you wonder at what point you did not even realize that...

And suddenly, you miss the book, the cellphone and the ipod.

On the road..

2009-09-06T16:00:00.005-04:00

The engine roars, the rut-a-tut is a little irritating in the beginning...

It takes a couple of attempts to master the helmet doning routine...

The rut-a-tut is replaced by a vrrooommm as the bike moves...

Fabulous 75 degrees, on the road and the lane to yourself...

The wind whizzes past and I keep pushing my pony tail into the jacket, worried about losing the few strands left on my head...

The roaring continues...

The head gets heavier as the wind tries to rip the helmet off, if that happens, the head is going with it too, I say to myself.

The "looks" from the cars where I would have myself been...

The "nods" from the bikers which make me self conscious in the beginning...

The roaring continues..

More asphalt, more carbon, more trees, more green, more lakes, more bikers...

The helmet is part of my head now, I no longer worry about the hair and I am almost beginning to love the "vrrooomm",..almost...

It is new and I think I am loving it...

A tale of two worlds !

2009-04-17T22:52:00.008-04:00

When Veena opened the gate, a million thoughts flashed through her mind at that one moment - her decision to start this process, her dilemma about whether this would work, her skepticism about being able to trust her future with a stranger and that too a child, others' warnings on how the exit would be painful, etc.,et.,etc. She took a deep breath and walked through the gate into the ground in front of that school.The honking of the buses, the yelling of the peddlars, even the barking of the dogs and the sounds of the birds seemed to have faded away. It was a little after 4, so most of them had finished their classes and had got out to play. There were only 20 or 30 of them, but the noise seemed like a thousand birds chirping their way to glory when returning to their nests.

When she had walked through the gates a couple of months earlier, she had been much clearer. She had been absolutely sure about what she was doing until the time when the principal walked her around, telling her stories about how each one of them had got there. There was nothing dramatic about those stories, but the sheer simplicity in the way in which they had been abandoned choked her up. She had wondered for a fleeting moment whether she would unintentionally hurt one of them by removing them from their "home" and had lost count of the number of times that thought had crossed her mind and the number of times she had been able to answer it convincingly.

She walked into the principal's office. It amazed her how calm the room felt, suddenly cool and quiet. She had pondered whether it was just by virtue of the person occupying the room, her respect for the principal was only growing day by day. She had been sure it would be a girl, there was no specific reason, she just always had pictured that it would be a girl. After looking through the pictures and after calming the occasional pangs of guilt, she just stopped at one of them. As with most things, there was no rhyme or reason, it just "felt' right.

"Maya", the principal said. Her name is Maya, a little over 3. Maya was smiling shyly in the picture, her right hand on her hip, her left hand holding the tip of her skirt, her body and head titled a little to the left. The principal stepped out and in a few minutes, Maya walked in with one of the volunteers.

Maya had been playing with Anil and Leela, they were playing catcher on the slide, when "akka" came out calling her name. She got distracted for a moment and before she could say "time please", Leela touched her arm and said 'Out'. Torn between wanting to argue and heed to akka's words, Maya chose the latter. She walked with her to the principal's office, trying to catch her breath on the way. She stepped in felt that it smelt really good, something like the agarbathi smell when praying, but she liked this a lot better. She walked in, she saw an aunty sitting in the office, who smiled at her when she saw her. Maya quickly rubbed her hair down, dusted her
frock and rubbed the white thing off her knees in vain. She walked inside slowly, not quite sure where to stand.

As Veena saw her walk in, she felt a strange feeling in her stomach. She wanted to run to hug her, but worried how Maya would react, stayed put. The principal got up, walked to Maya and sat down on her knees. She told her softly that Veena aunty had come to see her and wanted to spend some time with her if she would like to do that. She could say "No" if she wanted to go back and play with the other kids. Maya did not want to go back and be the 'catcher" in her game with Leela and Anil and she nodded her head. The principal got up and nodded at veena who got up too and walked to Maya.

They spent the next 3 hours together, walking around the park next door, sitting next to each other in the bench, sometimes in silence and sometimes talking about the moon , the stars, God, hide and seek, 'sand and stone', Teletubbies, dinosaurs, rhymes, buses, trains. Once in a while Veena would reach out to hold Maya's hands and would notice a hesitation. She wished she walked closer to her, sat closer to her and talked to her without her having to ask questions, but kept telling herself that she was a kid and it was unfair to expect her to be comfortable with a stranger. Her mind knew it, while her heart kept wishing that by some magic they would bond. For a moment, she thought if she should tell Maya that she could come with her if she liked, they could go to the beach together, they could play everyday, she could go to a big school, have her own toys and then felt it was unfair. What if Maya said "Yes" and for some reason she was not able to keep her promise ?

Maya felt like it was her birthday - the day when everybody would be talking about her, her new dress, giving her the first place in the line during prayer, tease her by wishing her Happy Birthday several times, the day when principal and all the
akkas and all her friends would sing for her, the day when she would get 2 chocolate boxes, one for herself and one that she would share with friends. But, the day after her birthday, everyone seemed to forget her, she suddenly became one of the other 30 kids and would wish that every day was her birthday. "Why can people not have 3 or 4 birthdays?" she once asked akka, who only laughed at her and ruffled her hair, but gave no answers. She knew today was not her birthday. She had been counting the days since the last time and there were 24 more Sundays to go before her birthday. She still liked this aunty so much, she wished she would come everyday, she wanted to ask her if she would but then she was a grown-up now and should learn to not be greedy. She wanted to ask aunty why she smelt so good and ask if she could smell like that too. She wanted to ask her how the beach looked and if she would take her there, but kept quiet and answered just her questions.

It was getting dark and Veena asked Maya if they should go back.

(To be continued...)

And the world goes 'round...

2009-04-10T09:45:00.009-04:00

7:30 in the morning on yet another regular friday,.. Compulsive checking of the iron and the gas before stepping out.. Walking through the lobby, my hands automatically start zipping up my jacket - when its 5 months of doing it, it becomes as involuntary as breathing. Opening the door into the street, the body gets tensed, ready to confront the chilly air outside..

I step out and something is different,..

As my shoes tic-tac on the pavement, I see those purple flowers, 3 of them in a bunch. The cynic in me comments that they look too perfect to be natural. I bend down to touch them and the cynic is convinced. I flick the dew drops off.. The dreamer has a moment's temptation of calling in sick and just sit next to them in that bench with a book. The realist vetoes it with the consolation that there is time the next 2 days to do as much of that as possible !

As I get out of the alley into the main road, I notice the girl or rather the beautiful blue blazer she is wearing ! The shopper makes a mental note of the pattern and the worker tries to assess the effect that it would have on my Friday evening idleness and thereby on my bank statement.. The wannabe fashionista catches those sandals right in time as the lady wearing those gets inside her car.. Boy, they are beautiful and why did I not notice this all these days, I wonder.

As I get into the train, my hands reach to the nappe of my neck and I wonder what caused those drops of sweat when today was not a "damn, the train is here already, run up the stairs" day ! I look around and it suddenly feels like going to 7th grade on a Saturday - the day when we wore 'colored' dress, a trick that was used to make 6 day weeks seem more palatable. I am still wondering...

I step out of the subway into the hustle and bustle. Is it just me or people are actually smiling ? And how am I suddenly seeing a lot more faces ? The next 5 minutes of my walk, more faces, more smiles, more colors - red, blue, yellow, green, more sandals, more iced coffees, more sweat and then my cell phone beeps.. Nobody could have guessed why someone would have a broad grin and let out a happy yelp looking at the "tax filing" reminder on a cell phone !

Spring is finally (not officially, by the way) here people ! And life is beautiful, a looming tax filing exercise notwithstanding !

Quote !

2009-04-03T00:05:00.007-04:00

Alright, I ain't no sucker for quotes, but there are some that are pretty impressive or rather seem to pop up at the perfect time.

Here is one that goes something like this - "Most people have no idea of why they are doing what they are doing, but (and) they are really good at it"
Imagine reading this after slogging for 2 weeks for end of quarter stuff at work ! Ouch !

Smucker's

2009-03-26T21:37:00.007-04:00

The ad for Smucker's jam has a tagline that goes something like this... "With a name like Smucker's, its got to be good" Funny how the same thing can be applied in various contexts to people too... Haan ?? :)

PS: When you have had a few 24 hour working days in the past 2 weeks, you cannot help but get to a different plane (not necessarily a better one ;) ) !

And the Oscar goes to...

2009-02-22T23:04:00.009-05:00

It is one of those "where were you then" moments. Agreed, this will not feed the millions of people at home, this will not put an end to atrocities in the name of religion, this does not make an iota of difference to the illeteracy plaguing us,... However, it would not stop me from being proud of this guy,.. once more !

As dorky as this is, I could not help my hands reaching out for my Sony.

Just as I am writing this, the movie is picking up award after award. A month after watching the movie, I am still engaged in verbal battles and trying to understand why raw reality seems more insulting than heroines running across sunflower fields. I am no movie buff, am much more desensitized to children begging at stoplights and depicting communal riots in movies than most people I watched the movie with here . But this one is going to stick with me for a while and here is why.

5. The first movie recommended to me by every non-Indian friend who watched it.

4. The first time ever I was in a theater where every single one in the audience stood and applauded during credits and did not budge while the credits rolled.

3. Kind of funny how ARR can win the award for something that is not even close to his best work (the train chase background being an exception)

2. The elder Salim. Reminded me a little of Manoj Bajpai (by the way, where did he disappear ?). A natural and a character that disturbed me for more than a week after I watched that movie.

1. Little Salim. Agreed, little Jamal is cuter. But little Salim - that scene where his eyes show menace and the intoxication after becoming unofficially in-charge of the kids, how do you teach a 10 year old to do that ? How the hell on earth do you teach a kid to do that ?

The arguments that I described earlier only continue and all I have to say is "Bring it on !.."

What do you do...

2009-01-22T21:26:00.007-05:00

... when you are happy and you know it ?

a. Clap your hands ?

b. Smile and give your loved ones a tight hug?

c. Jump around? Aahh.. almost !

How about a few heel clicks on the way back home on a seemingly empty alley ? Add to that a startled stare from a stranger who just turned round the corner. Top it off with a sheepish grin and one in return in addition to the words 'Nice job. Have a good evening'.

Move over Mr. Barack Obama !

Why did my piano teacher appear worried when I wanted to practise this piece for the music night ?.... :(

2009-01-20T18:18:00.004-05:00

Departure: PHL, Gate 37

2009-01-13T19:11:00.012-05:00

It was a quieter than usual Philly airport that Monday evening. Gate37 had around 10 passengers waiting, was glad there were atleast 9 others who were dumb enough to fly on an 'ice storm' day. I turned off the cell phone, intending to enjoy the quiet of the situation. After resisting the temptation caused by my sweet tooth, I turned my attention to observing the folks around. The two college kids had a resigned look, was not sure whether it was the delay or whether it was going back to school, the gentleman sitting across was talking to a helpdesk for help to access the internet with his new blackberry, the other suit-clad gentleman was giving a tough time to the analyst (trust me, I know the questions that are asked) on the other end of the phone, the couple who seemed to be returning from a vacation at a warmer place had finally succumbed to the satan in disguise - the last of the burgers from the nearby shop. Suddenly conscious of obvious "looking", I got up to stretch my legs. It was also enough excuse for me to break my resolution on cutting down on my impulse purchasing for books. I walked to the moving platform, it was nice to be standing on it for once and letting it move, instead of running on it, swearing a 100 times that I would add a little more buffer time the next time. The bookstore was right at the end of the terminal. Oh, how I loved the sight !

One of the issues of traveling a lot - after a point, the books on the shelves become too familiar. Touching the books one by one, picking the one that seems interesting and reading a few pages and putting it back does not seem that fun any more. I picked the one titled "Buy-ology", in all probability attracted by its bright yellow colored hard bound cover (do you ever remember seeing that color on a book shelf ?). Ironically, the book was about "why we buy what we buy". :) At the checkout, the strangest thing happened - after asking me about my flight, the bookstore guy said something about Boston and a husband waiting up for me. I usually just smile and walk off, but I do not know what took over me that day. I acknowledged him, told him how we had to shovel 6 inches of snow the previous week (I don't even scrape the snow off my car properly) and how my dog was too afraid to walk out in the snow (for the record, I am anything but a pet person). Apparently, dogs usually like the snow, now, how was I supposed to know ? He went on for a few minutes about his 2 dogs, rather puppies that he had got from a shelter and how they were fighting with each other. After pretending to be interested for a while, I gave up. I also learnt that he had moved from Indiana (ahh,, now there is the connection) and how he was friends with the Indian guy who was at the McDonalds across. He then asked what brought me to Philly. I told him I was running my business and I was here in Philly to meet my client, yada, yada, yada. Seemingly impressed, he went on to discuss the economics of the store and gave me some lessons on retailing. We went on for another 20 minutes, me creating my own fairy tales, having found a stranger to humour me. The conversation continued in parallel with him billing the other customers, some curious, some irritated.

I finally grabbed my book and my stride gum and got out. Walking back, I had to try hard to not grin. I was wondering if my fibs were about stuff that I wished I was doing. I don't know, whatver. The more I thought about it, the funnier it got and after a point, I got terribly giggly, like the little girl who would cover her mouth to suppress that mischievous smile after sneaking out her milk to feed the cat, only to get busted. Twice on my way back, I had to double over from my laughing hard. It was stupid alright, but a lot of fun.

I came back to the gate again and tried to get composed. I had to fake a cough twice when I started laughing out loud. I stuffed my mouth with 3 strips of gum and buried my face in the book. I could definitely tell there was bewilderment on the faces of people around me, who I am sure could not understand what was so funny in a book that talked about neuroscience and market research. Well, I am glad they didn't.

And I am depending on the high volume traffic at Philly to have its effect on the bookstore guy. If not, I better write down everything I said the other day or forget buying books from there. And oh, I am also building my next story, wondering if I should be a writer or a musician. Whatever :D

Ah well, Happy New Year

2009-01-11T21:58:00.002-05:00

I am no big fan of obsessing with Hollywood recognition for Indian artists, but still sitting down here this Sunday evening and watching that short and sweet guy add the Golden Globe to his collection was kind of surreal and totally 'goose pimply' !

Happy New Year (I need to stop saying this any more this year)

In transit

2008-12-25T20:38:00.025-05:00

Winter was setting in. It was 8 AM, barely an hour after sunrise when she got out of the apartment that Tuesday morning. She took a deep breath, enough to take in as much left as possible of the remnants of the fragrance of fall. After a night's sleep in the overheated apartment, the cool breeze seemed refreshing in the beginning.. But within seconds it was 'whoosh'ing at her face ferociously like a passionate lover, making her lips quiver and her body shiver, tempting, yet painful. She hesitated a little before hurriedly pulling her scarf up to cover the ears and nose.

Her cell phone rang, the screen saver was the picture of lone tree at the end of the road. She had taken it about a month back, during peak fall. The tree with its red, yellow and the last few green leaves had been quite a sight. Passing by it today, she saw that it was almost bare, with the exception of the last 4 or 5 leaves, that had turned into a dirty yellow. They seemed to be waging a losing battle against the wind that was resolved to get them to the ground. The potholes in the streets had been filled last evening. It was as if to arm the pavement that will have to endure the clatter of knee-highs that were already out. It will be a while before the flip-flops and skirts will be back.

She grabbed her usual cup of coffee and the newspaper at the station and went up the escalators to the platform. With everything going fine, she should be able to make it on time for her 9 AM meeting, the beginning of another regular day. As she went up the the escalators, a host of brown and grey and black coats passed by. The air was filled with languages of all kinds, Spanish, English, Hindi and a couple that she did not recognize this time. The platform was unusually crowded with people, some of whom she recognized through her daily commute, but none with whom she made eye contact or attempted to converse. Funny how each of them seemed to be content in their own capsule, aware, yet oblivious to the organisms of the same species around them.

A train pulled in right then. In a mood to enjoy the coffee seated, she let it go. The doors closed and for a moment she regretted the decision of skipping the train, suddenly worried whether she will be late. Trying to save the newspaper for reading in the train, she clung to her coffee with both hands. The warmth seemed soothing.

She heard the announcement for the next train and then a voice that said "Excuse me". She gave way and noticed him pass by her, the same black jacket and the same black leather shoes and the same off-white slacks, the same laptop bag. But then, there was something that made her do a double take - the book he was carrying - her favorite book by her favorite author ! Never before had she seen anyone in the train with that book. Before she realized, she had been watching him for 2 full minutes, negotiating his way through, uttering "Excuse me" in the politest possible tone, something totally unusual for the city and finally settling down and opening his book. She shook her head in disgust, took a sip from the coffee cup and immersed herself in the newspaper.

Thanking the heavens for this thing called peripheral vision, she realized that he was standing 2 feet to her right. His well trimmed nails were an instant attraction. Despite not looking like one, he seemed to have the build of an average American. The hair was tamed with hair gel and his rimless glasses did not seem too thick from the sides. He seemed in no hurry. Unlike a few others, who were staring down the tracks as if concentrated staring would make the train arrive earlier, he was gazing at just the distance, as if lost in his own thoughts.

As the next train rumbled in, she hoped that they would get into the same compartment. The train stopped and the doors opened. With not too much crowd, he let her get in first and she muttered a generic 'Thank you' in his direction. Once in the train, she made sure she seated herself as far away as possible, worried that he might become conscious of her attention. She continued turning the pages of her newspaper. While her eyes were reading, the mind was not absorbing anything. She heard some woman's voice making small talk to him and telling him that the book was a great choice. Looking up, she saw it was the lady with the construction company tag, who usually gets down with her at North and takes the train to Boylston. For reasons unknown, she knew that she would hate her for the rest of her life. Turning the pages of the newspaper, she realized that she was seeing letters and words that were incoherent and seemed to make no sense. After a few minutes, she gave up trying to read.

As her station approached, she became tensed again, wondering whether he would get down at the same station as her. If he did not, she will have to pass his seat anyway. Should she try to make eye contact ? Or perhaps try saying something intelligent about the book he was reading ? Or perhaps smile ? She got up as the train slowed down before it came to a halt at North, praying that he would too. He did not budge, nor did he seem to be in a mood to lift his head from that book. Disappointed and still mad at the construction company lady, she got off the train to take her connection.

As she stepped out of the subway into the buzzling streets of downtown, the concrete jungle embraced her and the mundaneness of daily life was adequate to relieve her of her sense of unexplained frustration. By the time of her evening commute, she had almost forgotten about the 'book guy', until she saw him the next day. The train had been crowded and she was on a call herself. She saw him on subseqent mornings as well, turning up day after day with neatly pressed slacks and the same distant gaze until the train arrived. He was like her, always preferred to stand on the same place on the platform and always got into the same compartment, was always willing to let others board before boarding. She wondered when he returned in the evenings and had a wild thought about following him to find where he worked.

Days became weeks and they even managed a few eye contacts and some polite 'After you's. The bookmark was making its way through the pages of the book, slowly but steadily. That morning, she noticed that it was almost at the end and was worried that she had lost the last opportunity to make conversation. Oh, why did she have to read that book earlier ? It could have been so easy if they had carried the same book. The next morning, she grabbed the new book she had bought the previous day, it had been an impulse purchase, a random book that she had not heard of. She walked into the station, preparing to be disappointed by having lost any chance to talk to him about the book until she saw him. Her eyes almost poppped out when she saw the book he was carrying. At that very moment, he seemed to have finally noticed too. He looked at her book and they managed a nervous smile.

They got into the train, but this time they took the seats next to each other. The next 20 minutes was all that she had wanted. He said that he got off 3 or 4 stations after her and worked in a bank and almost never managed to get out until late in the night. Despite a seemingly hopeless situation at work, he seemed cheerful and most importantly had similar views about her book and her favorite author. As she got off the train, she realized that they had not even introduced themselves. There was going to be a lot of time and all that could wait. She got new flowers for her office that day and was more productive than usual. She was singing on the train on her way back and could not wait for the night to get over.

That evening, CNN ran another breaking story on yet another bankruptcy. Having heard enough of these already, she flipped channels before settling on a repeat of Seinfeld.

The next day, she was extra careful in choosing her suit and polished her shoes more than she normally would. She made sure she wore her Tresor. The lone tree was still there, but the last of the leaves had lost their fight with weather Gods. She felt a small lump in her throat, stopped by it for a moment and gently touched it, as if to say to not worry and hang in there. The first snow flakes were making their way to that part of the world. She went to her usual spot and saw the 'book guy' was not there. The train pulled in and still no signs of him. She let that one go, her eyes now searching for him. She was wondering if he was out there somewhere observing her and then dismissed it as being too dramatic. She could not let the next train pass. Wondering about the various reasons about why he was not to be seen, she cursed herself for not knowing his name or where he worked. The subsequent day was no different. In the days that followed, she walked up and down the platform and changed trains, trying to see if he was around, until she eventually gave up.

That weekend, CNN ran an hour's story on the financial turmoil - heart wrenching and disillusioning stories about lost jobs, lost dreams and struggling families.

Winter had finally set in, she got up that Monday morning to see the world around covered in a foot of snow. Her knee highs were out, the lone tree was covered with ice and her coffee got cold by the time she got into the train. She never saw the 'book guy' again.

The Inevitable

2008-12-16T04:32:00.016-05:00

You know all along that it will happen, this is not the first time you had to go through this and it certainly will not be the last. After everytime, you think that the next time, you would handle it better. Yet, when it happens, it brings with it questions about every single choice that you made that has led upto this.

The inevitable travel back from home !

It is the night before. The city seems to have finally calmed down a little. Folks at home have begun their romance with the angels of sleep. You take one quick walk around the house to make sure the doors are bolted. The blue passage light, just above the clock adds a dreaminess to everything. It is a little past midnight and you decide to call it a day. Lying on your back, you look up at the ceiling fan that seems to have lost interest in making that screechy noise. The AC is playing substitute today with its hum. A lorry passes by and the driver honks. Its as if he is agitated that he could not sleep that night and wants the rest of the world to know his displeasure. You close your eyes and attempt to do the impossible, i.e. sleep. There is the familiar knot in the stomach that only seems to get worse with every passing minute and every trip. Perhaps you should stay awake a little longer, so that you could add a few more minutes to your time at home. Tomorrow, it will be back to the place that you might never be able to call home.

Like a toddler who would run to her mom for comfort, you decide to resort to television. News channels are still getting their kicks out of the so-called voicing public opinion against terrorism. You are not sure what is more dangerous - the incidents or the repeated telecasts. But then, this is not the time for such heavy thoughts. You walk around the living room and notice the mantlepiece that you never noticed in your 3 weeks there. You go into the kitchen and realize that you are yet to cook a full meal for your parents. You walk to the balcony and stare across the road at the graffiti. There are different "anna"s calling, God knows where ! Oh, it will be election time in 4 months. Then, there is the money plant in the pot. It has survived 10 winters, perhaps because of the talking and singing you did to it when you were in high school. Or perhaps because of your extra attention, thanks to the superstition that tied it to you getting admitted to a DOTE 1 college - something that seemed life changing then. There is the lone cyclist on the road, returning from his late night at tasmac, hopefully getting back to the wife who is staying up waiting for him.

You feel like a teenager who believes that there was international conspiracy behind her bad hair cut. Your exaggerated emotions make you equate this to being terminally ill. The hours are numbered. The calls that are pending, the trips that are waiting, the time you could have spent with mom and dad instead of watching that test match, the kutcheris you could have attended, the deliberate skipping of an otherwise mandatory trip to Tnagar - you wish that by some luck, you will get another week or may be another 2 days. What if by some miracle, it is only Thursday and not Saturday ! In the end, you just wish that it all be over as soon as possible.

You return almost mechanically to bed, the humming of the AC is now barely audible. You cuddle with mom, there is that warm stream of tears trickling down the neck and into the ears, making you feel lighter and heavier at the same time. You hug her tighter and try to keep your sniffs muffled and then....

You are holding mom's and dad's hands like you never have before. There is nothing said, even as you get the "looks" from strangers who are waiting for their turn to get to the barricade. The shortest 2 hours of your life just go past and its time to let go. You caution them that you will not look back and are no longer conscious about dad hugging you in public. You hold their hands, wishing that they might ask you to stay. And then you let go and start walking as briskly and as unperturbed as possible.

Scenes change. Anxious and emotional relatives get replaced with AF t-shirts, uniformed crew, accented English and then the point of no return - Gate5, row 37. The flight soars, the stomach churns and tears swell. You try to look down with the pretext of sorting your purse. There is the pen that you took from appa for filling the customs form and there is the small pack of prasadham that amma managed to sneak in. You know what you need to do. You cannot help but smile and that is right in time for the attendant to hand you your drink. However, not even him with his smart and flirtatious smile and his sexy haircut could distract you, not this time !

So long...

December already ?

2008-12-15T22:06:00.001-05:00

It is not even the end of the year and my mid-year initiative (i.e. this blog) is already being challenged by procrastination, the fancy word for laziness.

To all those who asked me about my next post (there were 2 when I last counted :) )

1. Yes, I am alive and this post should be adequate proof. The amount of distractions in the last month or so has resulted in 5 draft posts, 4 of which have succumbed to Shift + Del.

2. I did not realize it would be this tough to keep my India trip a secret just so I could surprise a dear friend on his wedding day. And boy, it was worth the trouble :)

3. Madras is as fun as always, albeit the power cuts and tamil channels which run prime time news updates on a family feud before those on the Mumbai attacks and the TN floods. As tempted as I am to blog on all the 3, I am holding back.

Away for three weeks, but the world has not come to a grinding stop. What a disappointment ! :))

Lights and Sounds

2008-10-31T11:37:00.020-04:00

I have heard most friends say that the most fun with Deepavali was when they were teens, but my most memorable Diwalis have been during my very early years. Diwali was the time when we would get the most expensive clothes. I never was part of the shopping trip, but I remember almost every dress I got for my diwali until I turned 13. I used to envy my brother who used to get two, since his birthday usually fell around the same time.

What is diwali without fireworks ? My parents were part of this pool at work where they would stash a certain amount every month for fireworks that would be delivered during Diwali. The package would invariably end up at home in a "non-crisp" state (what on earth is the word to describe what I am trying to describe here?). On the day before, my grandmom would spread those in a huge tray on the stove to make them crisp and ready. I am not kidding, it worked (Statutory warning : This is risky, do not try at home).

Come diwali day, my dad would be vested with the unenvious task of waking everybody up, including my mom (oooppss.. did I just say that ? ;) ). The techniques varied from "Look, XYZ is already out bursting crackers" to torturing us with a thread through our nostrils and ears. If you had any idea of my brother and my sleeping abilities, you would know the effort and energy that it entailed. His 1 to 2 hour hardwork would finally pay off.

It would then be time for the bathing ritual and the baton would be handed to my mom. She was relatively more strict with traditions. When translated, that meant a litre of oil on my head and a dampener on my dreams of tossing my head around and running in the beach a.k.a the sunsilk "sachet" shampoo model. You need to have gone through it to know what a shikai paste smells like and what it feels to get some in your eyes. My prayers for the shikai to successfully wash off the oil have never been answered till date. The day I went to the parlour on my own to have my hair cut, my mom budged a little and got my own first shampoo bottle. She almost threw her hands up when my first grey hair appeared. But, the battle is still on.

And then my favorite moment, when paati would hand us our new clothes along with sweets and some money (a 5 rupee coin was good enough and a 10 rupee note was jackpot). Those were one of those million occasions when I would get this tight bony hug and a long blessing which would include my great grandchildren and a kiss that would be loud enough to put those 'lakshmi vedis' to shame. Finally, it would be time to run out to light our first sparklers before the sun was up. Needless to say, we were never too successful with that.

The elders, after accompanying us for a while, would settle in the living room to get a breather. This would also coincide with the time the real Diwali special programs would begin on DD. I so loved it when you had just one channel. When it would get so bright that lighting those sparklers would be a crime, I would retire too. The rest of the day would involve running to neighbors to distribute sweets and more importantly compare those from different homes. Year after year after year, the scenes would repeat, the only change being in costumes and our heights....

... until 15 years back, when guilt struck when we watched a documentary and my brother and I gave up fireworks. Couple of years later, new clothes were no longer associated with only Diwali and birthdays. The excitement became almost zero and I do remember wearing my new clothes for barely an hour before changing to something more comfortable. Couple of years later, I moved out to go to college and spent 2 diwalis away. When I came back, diwali was marked with channel switching and answering movie trivias over phone only to end the day empty-handed. Couple of years later, I celebrated diwali with a dinner at Chipotle and a party a week after diwali. Couple of years later, my grandmom was no more with us and I only knew it was D-day when someone called to wish me. But, guess what ? By then, I had the answer to a question that I had as a kid "How can amma, appa and paatti sleep the night before deepavali and how can they not cry when it all ends ? " I knew then, but ignorance could have been bliss.

This year, I missed home after a long time and decided to step out for a walk. It was a colder than usual October night in Boston. I missed the sleepless nights prior to diwali, missed opening the wardrobe a 100 times to touch my new clothes, missed unwillingly saving those firecrackers for karthigai, missed the depressing night after diwali that had only trash from firecrackers and the itching in the eyes and nose and the heaviness in the stomach.

I looked up and forgetting where I was, hoped to see some fireworks. The stars were barely visible through the clouds, the cold wind (or was it ?) was making my eyes water. I missed paatti. I thought I saw a star appear out of the clouds, wink at me and vanish. I began walking back when the first rain drop fell and hurried inside the building just in time to escape the downpour. That night, was awakened by the loud "wwhhiissshhh"ing noise, opened the shutters only to see it was raining cats and dogs, with thunder after thunder rolling through and some heavy duty accompaniment from lightning. I looked up half-expecting another wink from the star. It was still hidden, but I knew it was there watching me enjoy my own special diwali.

Rear-view !

2008-10-21T20:56:00.006-04:00

Last week began and ended with a 4 hour drive on I-90. It was then I realized that despite this being my 4th autumn here, this was the first time that I had the time to actually enjoy the foliage. The following is nothing out of the world but just some random words resulting from those 2 solitary drives, scenic roadway, 8 hours of "me" time and some lyrics (The Road ahead) that I had read a while back.

When you look behind

And miss all that there was

Remember to cherish

The fuzzy shades around

The road ahead is paved with miles of the unknown

The road ahead never gives away a promise

Horizon is the distance - so close, yet so far away

And "now" too

Will soon be in rear-view !

Would I rather be...

2008-10-11T18:09:00.005-04:00

...the one that makes mistakes or the one that takes no risks ?

...the million $ CEO or the laid-off employee ?

...the one that seeks advice or the one that keeps churning them out ?

...the one who dumps or the the one who gets dumped ?

...the smart one or the hard working one ?

...the one that puts others first or the one that wants others to be responsible enough ?

And the "?"s never end...

Fitting room fundas

2008-10-05T13:15:00.009-04:00

I love fitting rooms. There are always interesting conversations that sometimes make me wonder "just because they are not visible, these people think they are inaudible too ?" Yesterday at the mall was no exception.

I was in my room when I heard another door opening
Female voice : Honey, howz this ?
Male voice : Nice, I like it.
Female : Mmmm.. I don't like the color. I like the dress, but not the color
Male : (I sensed panic and hurry) It looks good, I think it looks good.
Female : Mmm... I guess I want to try the other design... I don't like the color.
Male : Ok..

Heard the door close, some ruffling noise and the door open again

Female : So, how does this look ?
Male : Nice, I like it. (am pretty sure that he said this no differently from the first time)
Female : You don't like it, do you ?
Male : Are you kidding me ? Its nice.
Female : Mmm... but, I don't know what shoes to wear. I don't have any that will go with these and am not sure if they would carry something that would work... Mmm.. this is nothing like buying trousers, is it ?
Male : ( a li'l exasperated now) Ok, you have no idea how tough it is to buy trousers.
Female : Oh come on.. it can't be..
Male : (cuts her short) Ok, ok, so you like this one. This is it then ?
Female : Mmm.. I dont know. Do you want me try the other one again ?
Male : (damn, no no, not again) Ok, but do you have matching shoes for those ?
Female : I think so, but I won't know until I try it on again...
Male : (sigh...) Ok.

As tempting as it was to know how this ended, I was done. I came out and saw a poor soul sitting in a chair with his chin resting on his hand and with an expression of pain that can only result from missing a football match. He smiled and said Hi and I wished him back with a smile.

When it is bed time...

2008-09-27T14:09:00.008-04:00

What do people mean when they say "Live everyday like there is no tomorrow" ? Would they sing and dance everyday ? Would they speak their mind everytime ? Would they always impulse shop ? Would they make sure they come back to their loved ones everyday ? Would they be kind always ? Would they be ruthless ? Would they care ?

That day was just another usual one, until I stumbled on this headline article about the Big Bang experiment scheduled to begin that night. "I freaked out" is an understatement. But, was also surprised that I had heard nobody talk about it, not even the compulsive article forwarders. Either that or the others just knew and were smarter (in hindsight, I know this was indeed true) than me to not worry. Whatever the case was, it was enough to wake the 'paranoiac' in me. This was totally unsettling. I heard myself saying "I might actually cease to exist tomorrow ! What on earth were these people thinking ?" Evening came and then night came. What if tomorrow never comes ? Should I call home and hear their voice once, just in case. Should I call my bro' and warn him ? But, tell him what ? "Hey, if you hear anything, go hide in the bathtub or the basement" ? Should I prepare my favorite dish ? Should I just get out in the car and drive around ? But, then did it matter ? After what seemed like a million thoughts crossing my mind, I finally settled down. As a friend would say "I threw my hands up and surrendered". Made a decent dinner, retired for the day with a nice movie and then cuddled up at 11 thinking that it could all be over in another 2 hours. Voices from the movie kept going farther and farther away, I saw stars, saw a kid playing in a lawn, saw a rainbow, thought I heard sirens and people talking, and...

I literally jumped at the familiar "kungfu" tune. My alarm ! It was the end of my mini thrill ride and today was actually there ! The 'snooze'ing ritual began, I cut my nails too far that morning, I got the microwave timer wrong and let the milk overflow, had a tough time with the pushy subway crowd, let the call from home go to voice message and three back to back meeting requests welcomed me at work.

For a moment I thought that perhaps a big bang malfunction could have been better. But, it was just that - a fleeting moment.

Dil maange tears !

2008-09-21T12:37:00.005-04:00

I am worried that I do not cry enough these days. Welcome to my world where tears are the ultimate sign of inspiration, appreciation and happiness. If you are one of those who could remain unshaken by a threat to your life or move on with a smirk watching histrionics and emotion in movies, but who can get moved by one sentence from a close one or an act of kindness from a stranger, you know what I mean.

And sitting on my couch this Sunday morning, I was trying to recollect my "non unhappy" tears and the list just seemed endless until recently. After singing a simple song at my aunt's wedding as a 12 year old, the only way I could handle the appreciation and approval was running to an uncle and crying on his shoulders. As a 17 year old preparing for the numerous exams, watching a team winning the soccer world cup at @ 2 AM, tears were the perfect way to feel that inspiration. As a 20 year old, sitting amidst 1000 people at a Nithyashree concert in broad daylight, when the heart was getting heavier and heavier with her rendition of a raagamalika, shameless crying came to my rescue. As a 25 year old, after watching Namesake and discussing with friends at the theatre, all I could manage were some quick tears when trying to pinpoint the reason for what struck a chord. Be it the moment when a close friend got a job after endless travails or be it the bony hug from my grandmom that brought all 25 years of our lives together in front of my eyes, nothing seems to beat those few drops of salt mixed H2O from the oculi.

Still sitting on my couch this Sunday morning, I could not remember the last time I cried. I miss that heavy feeling when you come across something that touches your heart, that warms the soul, that makes you feel vulnerable and then gets relieved when the tears roll down the cheeks.

Yeh dil maange tears !

TGINA !

2008-09-09T16:16:00.003-04:00

Phew ! Indeed, TGINA !

Of life's twists..

2008-09-08T13:32:00.016-04:00

It was four more days for my mom's return trip. The one line prediction on my morning paper read "You are going to have a big twist in life" or something to that effect. Being the ungrateful human being that I am, for the rest of my commute, my underworked grey cells had enough processing to do, thinking of the different twists that my life could do with. Six uneventful hours at work, the day was quieter than usual and I had forgotten all about it. And then it happened - the biggest twist of my life !

As I was slouched towards my workstation (to hell with the Ergo chair and the numerous emails from the wellness department), I had this weird sensation on my left shoulder/neck area. It felt like two teams holding on to either end of the nerves or ligaments or whatever they are called and playing tug-off war as if their life depended on it. My immediate thought was to throw in some resistance, grab the nerve bunch from their hands and give them a piece of my mind. I would have, if not for this flashback - Last month at work in India before packing my bags to go back to school -> women's cricket team at work -> practice session -> a small trip and fall -> pulling sensation at my elbow -> a shrug and rub to the elbow and my return to continue batting -> bus trip home -> left hand's refusal to move an inch without pain that could make you wish you could die -> late night -> hospital -> x-ray, dislocation scare, cast, tears, ooh, aah, ouch !

Back to the present, experience had made me wiser (or did it ?) and I stay put for the next 10 minutes. The pain had subsided and I thought it was going to be ok. Just as always, my manager decided to show that reality was grimmer than I thought, this time by a simple knock at the door. I turned and thats when I realized that the twist was indeed a "twist". The swivel action at the neck was non-existent. After sufficient explanations at work and curious glances from passers-by, thanks to my "robotic" walk, I got back home.

Life, over the next few days was not short of realizations !
- Peripheral vision is almost useless when you cannot move that neck of yours by 10 degrees without visible effort. That means there is no way to check out that cool skirt that the lady on the train is wearing without making her conscious and shift uncomfortably.
- Newton's third law of motion could have been more intuitive if I had pulled my neck muscle back then when learning about it. Every step when walking, every shift of glance from TV to laptop makes you wonder whether Newton had a neck sprain story similar to the "apple falling" one.
- Navigating and checking for blindspots at the Brookline junction cannot be more painful - Boston drivers, road work in progress, Red Sox fans and the tug-off war at the neck. It does not get worse.
- There is no better motivation for a hot shower, thrice a day, when the thermostat reads 82 degrees (thanks mom).
- Asafoetida is good for making rasam and even better when applied on a sprained area (I do not know if there is a causal relationship here, but my mom would say Yes)

- Asafoetida water, when mixed with sweat emanates an aroma that will prevent any human being from even trying to venture near me for the rest of my life. I am planning to check if this would deter jerks on the MTC bus back at home.
- Googling about an ailment is not the most reassuring thing to do, irrespective of how much you love that application and cannot imagine life without it.

After four days, 2 convention speeches, a box of Vicks, asafoetida water, "8-pillowed" sleeps, a dance class, numerous shopping trips, 100 mile drive on a car that has near zero suspension and finally packing 2 suitcases to India, I successfully avoided being a burden on this country's healthcare system. Blue Cross sent me a thank you note and a gift bag the next day (yeah,.. i wish).

Oh, by the way, it has been 15 days since then and I have been careful enough to skip the page with those predictions, even if it means missing the sudoku next to it.

08-08-08

2008-08-23T17:04:00.011-04:00

There have been quite a few sports events, when I had not been able to wait to get back home to catch them on TV - 2003 cricket WC and 2002 Soccer jump at me. As for 2007 WC, the loss to SL took away the last bit of cricket left in me (don't even get me started on 20-20 ). 2006 Soccer came and went at the time when I had gone without a television for 2 years of my life. Just when I thought "gone are those days", Olympics 2008 happened and the timezone difference helped. When translated, that means 5 hours per day of TV and countless hours of reading and talking about it.

Herez what I think I would remember about these Olympics a few years from now

5. The only reaction I could afford for all the moral high grounds that were taken with respect to the numerous political issues was a "Smirk", until I read about the last minute replacement of the little girl (or just the face of her, they still needed her voice) for the open ceremony. Whats the phrase I am looking for ? "It hurts" ? Ah well...

4. The 9.68s performance by Bolt in the 100m and then his 19.30s in the 200m. What stunned me in the 100m was the way he relaxed with about 15m to go, as if to say, let this WR stay for a while and then perhaps I can beat it one more time later. I remember the time when somebody got under 10s and it was a big deal then. Yes, the tracks have improved, the stadiums are better, etc. etc. etc. But, its still a human who did that and with such authority ! So much authority that his arrogance / showing off was just not jarring at all.

3. Women's gymnastics - probably the event with the most drama. How can you be a 16 year old and display so much composure when you have done your absolute best only to be beaten by the last competitor who wasnt even in the radar ? And how can you be barely 20 and smile that graciously when your perfect routine gets awarded the same points as another one with a landing flaw (albeit small) and then worse still, get beaten by a third tie-breaker? And how can you fall off a 4 inch beam in front of your home crowd, pick yourself up immediately and then put together the perfect routine after that ?

2. Phelps, Phelps and Phelps. Enough would be spoken and written about this man, his 8 gold moments, his 1-hundredth of a second finish for medal7, his relay teams, his mom, his 'fish-like' physique, the speedo, etc. etc. Its time for me to find the answer to the question, "Is perhaps having a clear-cut, measureable, "timed" goal a little more important than what I thought it was?".

1. I missed one day of the live coverage and it turned out to be the one when the Indian national anthem was played at these events for the first time since I was born. I caught up with it online . No fist-pumping, no "TV cam" targeted reaction, no tears @ the podium....What struck me was AB (therez sure something with these initials) reportedly saying that he felt empty at the podium. :) After winning the first individual gold medal for the country of a billion people ? Wow !

08-23-08
-----------
Gas came down to $3.6, oh thats better.
Did I vaccum last week ? Mmmmm.... ?
What should I get appa for his birthday ?
Obama picked Biden ? Really ? I thought it would be Bayh.
What on earth is this $39.50 charge I am seeing on my statement ?
And life goes on....

Finding my way !

2008-08-17T00:38:00.016-04:00

Summer of 2006 - I was visiting a friend in Delaware. Thats when I was introduced to Reba (not the country singer) and I was totally impressed ! It was the first time I saw something like that, extremely helpful, absolutely reliable, too good to be true. No, I am not talking about a boy friend who does not make you wait, although the more I think about that, the more impossible it sounds. Never mind.

Summer of 2007 - My friend in Bloomington called me one evening to say that I should come home asap to see Samira. His mom, who was visiting him had preferred Lakshmi, but he had been adamant about S. The timing had been perfect for him, he took a long road trip and flooded me with periodic updates over phone on how much more enjoyable the trips were with Samira around. No, I am not talking about a new bride.

Summer of 2008 - I heard of another addition to another friend's group - Karpagam. The absolute best travel companion, she told me. And no, I am not talking about a pet.

In case you were wondering what Reba, Samira, Lakshmi and Karpagam have in common, let me clarify that they all happen to be models of this species called GPS. And everytime one of my friends gets it, I do get to listen a mini-dissertation on why I should own one too. It might help to know that these are also the people that I call on those fateful nights, when I get lost in the cornfields in Indiana or in the exitless highways of Pennsylvania or in the maze that is called Boston. Now, I am not a direction idiot, been a pretty good navigator and am also a decent driver when it comes to directions (DG, G and S will totally disagree, but come on people, those were exceptions). However, after three years and a good number of 'losing the way' episodes (for the record, most of them happened to be in Boston, where I had to go through 5 one-ways and cross 3 tunnels to get to a parallel street), I succumbed to the luxury of a GPS. And am I not glad ! :)

Over the last four months, my GPS has been my travel buddy and my guide, in the literal sense of that word.

I have grown to admire its patience. At the beginning of a journey, it would show me the starting point and would then wait for me as I fasten my seat belt, tune in to my favorite FM and strategically position my snacks in the passenger seat.

I have begun to marvel its thoughtfulness. It would warn me of a turn well ahead, and in case of two quick turns, it would make sure to warn me of both upfront.

I have fallen for its non-judgment. When I am dumb enough to miss an easy turn or an easy exit, it would assure in the calmest of voices that its recalculating and would go about its business of finding another route. I might be imagining this, but sometimes when I keep losing my way on purpose, the 'recalculating' appears to get sterner and sterner.

I have grown to love its challenge. For every drive, it would show me the time that it thinks we would take to reach our destination and then I would try to beat that. I beat my GPS by one full hour during my last trip from Niagara. But, if its Boston, I have learnt to not even try.

Above all, "Arriving at destination on the left" - the automated voice uttering these words is one of the most reassuring things that I have heard in a long time now.

As for the naming ceremony for my GPS, nope, not yet. I am waiting for the technology that would let me pick a male voice of my choice for the directions. I am open to suggestions. Am positive though that the first time I lose my way, I will hear exasperation in the voice and the next time, I might actually hear some reprimand as well. Perhaps even some stereotyping in the lines of "you women can never follow the simplest of directions ??? "

Trade-offs ? You bet ! :)

A week, two movies and me

2008-08-16T18:14:00.014-04:00

Olympics overdose, a dreary summer and weird sleeping caused by a dog's week @ work resulted in catching up with 2 movies this week. When it comes to movies, I am always catching up, so don't be surprised when I say I watched "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" (yes, for the first time) and "Cheeni Kum" (for the second time though).

'Eternal' was recommended to me as a movie to watch for Kate Winslet, but ended up being the cause of a sudden crush on Jim Carrey. :P With no habit of reading reviews before watching a movie, I had no freakin idea of the plot. Will admit that it did get a li'l complicated now and then for my simple mind. And let me accept that half way through, I had to go back and watch from the beginning again. But then, this is not about the movie. Right from the first shot, I realized that Kate Winslet was going to be non-existent for me. Not because she was outdone, I am not qualified to say that or otherwise, but for some reason, it was Jim Carrey for me all the way. The first time I had heard his name as a teenager was probably "The Mask" days, girls going gaga about him and boys thinking he was real "cool". I did catch glimpses of that movie too, but could not appreciate his style and could not get motivated to watch another movie of his until now.

I loved the lack of histrionics (although I was worried of that creeping in during his mind getting erased or during the time he plays the kid Joel), I loved the dark green sweater and the striped shirt, his rugged, somewhat unkempt look, the "Oh poor thing" feeling when his voice in the background says "Why do I fall in love with every woman I see who pays even a little attention" or something like that and then the fact that he was just a regular guy. Oh, I could even notice how the mood of the day / time of the year goes with the movie. And, frozen Charles river on a winter night ? Boy, I might actually begin to like living in Boston. I am now debating if I should actually go back and watch his other movies or perhaps just let this linger longer, like a steaming hot, bitter, home-made cup of coffee. Or perhaps I will wear an Orange sweatshirt and just take a train to Montauk :)

Now, I had watched Cheeni Kum last year at the theatres, but was too preoccupied with things then to even remember whether I liked the movie or not. I just happened to borrow the DVD from a friend and decided to watch it again. As I kept watching, I realized it was pretty good and was beginning to wonder why the movie's memories had died the moment I had gotten out. And then it came - the second half in India. Ahhh,,.. I said to myself. This time I was not gonna let it happen. So, just when Paresh Rawal went on Satyagrah, I called it quits. There, that was just the right amount of cheeni :)

Looking back, I thought the flow was good (despite the inspiration from No Reservations), the dialogues in the first half (especially the tongue-in-cheek ones) were awesome, there was no dearth of "Oh, so cute" moments, one of my fav songs from Ilayaraja was sung by a female singer (the original in tamil had SPB singing it) and thankfully no duets / songs. Loved Sexy's fundas (especially the one where she says that she might just not last long enough for boys to grow up :P Missed you Ani :) ) despite my personal dislike for kids displaying too much maturity - reel or real. Kids need to be let be kids.. Right ? Now, if the entire movie is centered around 4 people, with 2 of them carrying the bulk of it, then its no wonder that their personalities ought to be equal to AB and Tabu. We all know that man only gets more charismatic with every passing day, but that lady.... wow ! I thought that her first movie in tamil could not have been more wrong (she just had way too much personality when compared to the 2 kids in that movie) and am also glad that "ruk ruk ruk" is in the distant past. For me personally, she had become one of my all time favorite actresses the day I watched her play Ashima in "The Namesake". If "great acting" is when they are so authentic and natural, that you do not even realize that they are acting, then in Cheeni, she was there ! And, she was BEAUTIFUL ! Out goes my plan for the hair cut and am hunting for my long sleeved salwar kameez ! :)

A new crush and a wardrobe revamp, I must say, thats a pretty decent start to the weekend !

Niagara ! Finally !

2008-08-09T02:21:00.009-04:00

As some of my friends remark - for an Indian in / visiting the US, a trip to the Niagara is synonymous with a pilgrimage. I decided that it was high time I discharged my duties. After planning and postponing on 4 prior occasions, it was finally fifth time lucky.

Mom and I were to drive down to a friend's and then explore Niagara the next day. It was the perfect road trip - all the way on I-90 and the weather cooperated too. I realized that the next best thing to exploring a place alone would be to do it with my mom (sorry pa, we will have to try doing this once). She has no complaints as long as she gets her passenger seat and can do her reading / sewing, is perfectly fine with me being on the driver's seat, is extremely flexible about food and pit stops and to top it all does not mind my crooning or my occasional cussing. After an uneventful 8 hour drive, we camped at my friend's place that night. Home cooked food, amazing hospitality and playing with their wonderful kid (not cranky even past midnight) set the tone for the next day.

After shamelessly taking up on the offer to sleep late into the morning and after pushing a few idlis down my greedy self for breakfast, we left for the falls. The plan was to visit the "tick mark" places, make the best use of photo opps and then be flexible with some hiking or walking around. We started off with the Cave of the winds, proceeded to the "compulsary" Maid of the Mist, relaxed at the Imax movie (I will totally recommend it, beats me how we let thousands of years of history go unnoticed, when people can make a moving story of 2 people being rescued from the falls), went round the place in the trolley, checked out Three sisters (no, its not a drink and its not a restaurant) - its just a nice spot to actually get up close and personal with the rapids, promptly got out in the rain to get wet and finally came back at night for a quick glimpse at the "lit" Horse shoe falls.

Looking back, it was one of the best sightseeing trips ever in terms of the flexibility and the wait times and everything in general. However, I will, through the rest of my life, remember the Cave of the Winds, simply because it was like getting back in touch with "nature" after a long time - One might argue that Niagara is not "natural' in the true sense, but hey, if you are living in the 5th floor of an apartment that overlooks a garage and if the window at your workplace overlooks a cafeteria in the lower floor, it is blissful enough. Funny how things end up being relative just like.. Ok.. I digress...

Going down the cave, mom and I were beginning to enjoy the freedom that anonymity allowed - not being conscious about wearing the "yellow raincoats" or about posing for photographs. Got down to the foot of the falls through the elevator (reminded me of the "hidden doors that lead to the villain's helipads or boathouses" in old Jaishankar movies) and began hearing oohs and aahs and other shouts of admiration and awe. Stepped out and was all set for my rendezvous with the waters. The sun was shining bright and things were slowly beginning to heat up with every step. As we walked together and yet alone with our own thoughts , the stray drops began pecking gently. Continued walking towards the red stairs that would lead us to the "Hurricane falls" - where you can get to the foot of one of the smaller falls. The stray drops now began to get a little stronger, encouraged by the fact that there was no resistance. The wind joined then - like a kid trying to play with you, one moment it would graze the hair off the face and the next moment it would blow it in the opposite direction and make a mess of it. I stopped worrying about the hair getting frizzy, about having to walk around in wet clothes, about how ugly that green moss on the red stairs looked and began playing with it too. And then I slowly looked up, almost wanting to prolong the anticipation, but could not. There it was, the white fearless mass of water - one moment appearing as if it was trying to scare you off and the other moment appearing as if it was so delighted to see you that it had to rush with all its energy. I do not know when I turned off all the people around me. Perhaps the falls were just too loud for the people or perhaps the others were in the same state as well. I do not know how long I stood there, just gazing and completely lost (in a good sense :) ). Its been a week now and I could still close my eyes and relive that.

That, there, would have been my mastercard commercial. Gas for the trip - 100 bucks, Food and tolls - 70 bucks, Sightseeing tickets - 60 bucks, those moments - priceless ! :)

The rest of the trip was great too, but I am still trying to pinpoint the reason why those particular minutes were so special - may be because my expectations were low, may be because I was neither sleep deprived nor hungry nor had bad footwear on, or may be because I was just in the right state of mind. I might never know. No, there was no dancing with friends, no mean comments, no bonfire, no running around like monkeys, but nevertheless, I will put this trip up there in my top10 list.

And if this is what growing up is, then hey, I don't mind ! :)

Friday and 13th

2008-08-07T01:56:00.001-04:00

Read on the local paper this morning that Friday, June 13th actually had lesser number of injuries, accidents and bad incidents reported, when compared to other Fridays.

Looks like "unexplained fear" works much better than clear-cut laws and common sense !
Way to go homo sapiens ! :)

Flying

2008-07-31T22:54:00.001-04:00

5 things that turn me off about flying

5. The ticketing rep who would insist that my connection was also delayed and that I would be just fine if I stuck with my delayed 'first leg" flight. Just that I have become smarter these days to go to the rep at boarding and promptly have my flight changed.

4. Murphy's law always holding good when going through the security gates - The lady who had bottle after bottle of liquid stashed in her carry-on when I had 15 mins to get to my flight, that gentleman who seemed to have an obsession about wearing metallic objects and would still insist that he was eligible to be in the "seasoned traveler" line and the list goes on...

3. The cell phone minutes that I end up consuming when waiting for a flight that is still in the tarmac at the other airport and the fortune that I keep spending at Hudson. Need to factor this in into my cost of flying.

2. The I-phone chattering (grrr.. thats partly jealousy :P) and the laptop typing eating up normal human noises and conversations. I am guilty too.

1. This is the top one. That gentleman who has no qualms about hogging the common armrest, no issues with spreading his legs around his luggage under the seat and who offers no apologies when he "seemingly accidentally" kicks my feet for the nth time. Dude ! Grow Up ! And then you might actually look better in that suit !

But then, that feeling of 'relief' (albeit temporary) accompanied by that sigh as you watch the world move farther and farther away during take-off AND that feeling of 'getting back home' accompanied by that sigh during landing make it worth all the trouble - just like everything in life !

Kewl ?

2008-07-28T12:06:00.001-04:00

http://money.cnn.com/2008/07/28/technology/cuil.ap/index.htm?cnn=yes

Now, I am a definite laggard when it comes to technology related things, but herez a couple of reasons that I thought I should check this out
- The Google case had kept me and my Accounting case team up for nights in a row last year and we had wondered umpteen number of times as to what the right competition for Google would look like
- I also have another hour before I need to get out for my flight and I was not going to miss the chance to kill some time on a not-so productive Monday morning

I resisted my temptation to "google" this new search engine and went to the address bar to throw a relatively monotonous page (Come on Kay, hw many times do you have to be reminded to not jump to conclusions) ! Being the narcissist that I am, I had to search for my name. After what seemed like ages (perhaps too many people are checking this one out today !!!! ), I got no matches for my name. Are you kidding me ? I just vanished out of e-space ?

I found this message particularly interesting
"Your search includes a term that is very rare. Try to find a more common substitute. "
- Of course, what did you think I was ? :P

Unable to take the blow to my ego, I tried again and this time with quotes - I got some 4 or 5 pages, but G beat this one hands down on relevance. Granted that in my previous life, this would have been considered a terrible sample for testing, but hey,... if I ain't finding me,... Mmmm.....Nahhh...

After 10 minutes of doing this on a relatively boring looking page, I came to the conclusion that G is still cool ! Long way to go for Cool (or however it is spelt) to become G though !

And I will be glad if I am wrong :)

Googly !

2008-07-21T01:19:00.003-04:00

It has been two months since I worried about what to cook (so much for being a self proclaimed "feminist" and so much for despising that word), two months since I had freaked out about not hearing my morning alarm, two months since I had stopped thinking whether not talking for a day would make me lose my voice, etc. etc. etc.

Its been two months since my mom landed in Boston !

As soon as her trip got finalized, I wanted to plan for it and make it as good a trip as possible for her (and for me too :P ) - you need to understand that this is from a person who has no qualms or shames about impulse shopping for necessities.

- I used my online TV expert resources to figure a way to stream major serials and shows (out went my "anti-unpaid programs' ethics), For the first time, I wished I had moved to that apartment building across the road 'coz my apartment was pet friendly but not dishnet friendly.

- I bought the bigger sized non-stick cookware because the last time she had complained that cooking in my kitchen was like playing 'houses' like a kid. With that pan, I could have cooked in one stretch for my entire gang in Bloomington
- I hunted for my gold chain and my ear-rings to make sure I wore them to the airport (that was going to be the trade-off for not wearing the bindi with my jeans and polo t-shirt)
- I cleaned up the apartment and cleared up the space for that box full of books that she had left behind last time
- I got my car serviced and bought the GPS (to the delight of G, DG and SS - who were in my hit list to bug for directions over phone whenever I lost my way)
- I made some trades at work about my deadlines (no more late evenings at work)
- And of course, planned on where I would take her - kept it simple and decided on the tick mark places in the 10 hour drive semi-circle (I live in Boston you see and my mom gets sea-sick :P )

All set ! May 6th came...

"Nice (approving look), but remind me to give you that thicker chain that I have in my bag when we reach home"
You bet ! (will make sure that I hide that bag of yours)

"I love the way you have set the place up"
Wooohooo !!!

"Oh,.. I can get these shows here ? I was kind of worried that I'd get bored with reading"
You are gonna be fine ma

"Am so glad that I can finally read my 20 years' collection in peace and in a table and chair of my own"
Of course,.. you deserve it ma

"These vessels are new ? Much better,.Mmmm.. not as good as the 'eversilver' ones back home,.. but we can manage"
Phew, thank God !

"I so love the long drives, can we do this every weekend"
Are you kidding me,.. thats gonna be fun ( as long as I can have my music as loud as I want)

"Don't worry about me being alone at home, am totally fine with the books and laptop"
Ohhh,, thats soo sweet..

Wow, that wasn't that tough... And if only I could end it there...

Cut and move to fifteen days from then - Union station in DC - I had that bounce in my walk (not bad KJ ! Looks likes you did indeed do a decent job of planning ) until we walked in and through the hall to board the bus at the next level. I turned to say something and saw her face get pale. I looked in the direction that she was looking at :
No, definitely not the crowd - she has learnt to negotiate her way through MTC and the city trains
Mmm.. cant be the sight of red meat, she had gotten used to it in the first week
And definitely not those couples that were kissing their way to glory - that part of the orientation was over long back
And then I saw it - there it was - that long, winding thing that seemed to stretch endlessly and move with that sligh hissing noise - the Escalator - the googly that I never saw coming !!!!

What followed that was one of the biggest scenes that the place would have witnessed in its history - the drama with two Indian ladies at one of the busiest hubs in the nation. I will spare the details, but herez the gist of it

Imagine....
- two women playing hop-skip and jump or kabaddi at the entrance to the "up" escalator while courteously letting eighty seven people pass by
- an extremely self-conscious me having a tough time ignoring the "oh,.. you thought this was gonna be that simple? Our parents took 3 trips !" look from fellow Indians
- a desperately smiling me trying to pretend to not notice the judging looks from the Americans as I abandoned my "new to the place" mom and went up the escalator (I swear my mom was adamant that she needed to be left alone and she can do it herself)
- a "frantic" expressioned me running down the "up" escalators after being sure that I saw tears swell up my mom's eyes (She insists that I was hallucinating)
- a "poor" me trying to unsuccesfully get past this burly guy who just seemed oblivious to the whole thing (or he just thought it might be fun to add to my miseries)

And then imagine the drama ending with me moving up the escalator in slow motion, not losing eye contact with my mom, my hands stretched and then tamil echoing through Union station with me yelling "Wait there, I will come back down". That must have been quite a sight !

I would any day trade a 15 hours' Boston-Bloomington drive (in solitude, without music, without cellphoneand no pit stop) to that one hour journey from the first level to the second level of Union Station. Did I add that I came back down and literally carried my mom to the first step of the escalator with her eyes closed ?? Hey, but we made it on time for the last bus leaving for the sightseeing trip.

Cut and move two months forward - yesterday - the mall - "You need to go to the second level for women's ma'am, the escalator is right there" - grabbed mom's hands and went the opposite way - stairs !

Hey, no complaints about adding to my weekly workout ! Except... One more thing to plan for and perhaps practice the reverse sweep as well (or whatever it is to handle the next googly or doosra) ! Sigh !

"Trace"ing back !

2008-07-19T13:02:00.000-04:00

Just when it was turning out to be one of those moments when I got plain tired of everything and wanted some change,..
"Trace" came to my rescue...

http://new.music.yahoo.com/videos/--58666527

The writing on the book...

2008-07-11T17:16:00.001-04:00

Whatever happened to writing !! Yeah, whatever happened to HANDWRITING - With a pen on a paper.

If you are one of those who is reading this blog, then you are probably part of the multitasking clan that can fire away 100 words per minute. I have been slowly moving towards this side too over the last 5 years. I am still resisting putting down my pen once and for all, making sure I write whenever opportunity presents itself.

You will know what I mean when I say that if you are
- One of those who can never attend a meeting without a pen and a paper OR
- One of those who loves taking notes furisouly, notes that you do not even care about after that hour OR
- One of those who needs a pen and paper when organizing thoughts at work OR
- One of those who needs to draw or write in order to explain OR
- One of those who used to pride your handwriting

I am all of these and I would like to think I am especially the last one, thanks to my Dad and Ms. Linda.

My dad is one of those who could write in a blank piece of paper and then you could draw lines beneath his writing and they would turn out to be as perfectly spaced and straight as in a "ruled" notebook. Someone who also has a great style - I mean the fonts. My school exhibitions / inspections would always have that extra couple of charts from him, that was one of my ways of showing off...just one of my ways :P

Well,.. Ms. Linda. She was my 3rd grade class teacher.
Life was good until I wrote on "4 lined notebooks" in first grade and "2 lined notebooks" in second. Third grade meant graduating to regular ruled notebooks. I thought I was managing great until that fateful day when in front of the entire class she praised the handwriting of the 2nd rank guy ( mind you, I was the topper) and said that he was going to overtake me soon because his handwriting was better than mine. In hindsight, I think she did that on purpose. That day also meant the beginning of 3 arduous months when I had to stay back for 30 minutes after class and practice handwriting under her supervision
- bear the "we are going to go out and play and we are so not going to miss you, you 1st rank b*****" looks
- fight back tears when getting my knuckles broken for not crossing the "t"s proportionately or for not starting the "a" with a tail
- try to be cool despite practicing writing on 4 line and 2 line notebooks (that was the equivalent of flunking then) and
- fight the urge to remove that hardened skin on my index finger (trust me, it stings when I used to write again after doing that).

Oh, by the way, the moral of the story is that I am terribly terribly proud of my handwriting and also believe that I owe my 10th English grades to that ! Whatever... ;)

This morning was yet another day when I was filling up my notepad with my drawings and writings for my next presentation - something that I do everyday. But, for some reason, these thoughts crossed my mind today !

My kids will probably type,..oooppss.. write.. yeah, write on laptops when they go to school and perhaps their kids will have an invention that would read their thoughts and put it into words and drawings...

They might never understand that sense of achievement on mastering the perfectly shaped tamil alphabet "O"
They might never keep turning back in class to look at the charts that have their parent's writing on them
There probably would be no value proposition for someone like Ms. Linda
And they will definitely be oblivious to how good it feels to pinch and remove that skin on the index finger that has hardened after a day's writing in school... Yeah, they'd never know and they'd probably not care too...

Hard Work !

2008-06-23T20:05:00.002-04:00

My washer / dryer was working overtime, my apartment was smelling and sounding of Indian cooking, the cop cars were howling outside and I was sure someone had taken their parking spot and yours truly was perched on the couch with wet hair, an outrageous colored t-shirt and a million thoughts about how useful I could make this day.

Unable however, to resist the lure of my laptop, I returned to resuming my affair with it.. After checking on the couple of hundred bucks in my account that needed to take me through the next week and after sneaking into orkut for nth time in the day, I decided to make it a li'l unusual - I decided to check out the Indian television scene...

How I wish my next sentence began with "To my surprise".. But, not this time...

I scrolled down the list
- the 827 soaps that I could get up-to-date within the first two days of my yearly trip home
- the shamelessly inspired versions of dance shows - I heard there were so many that they were now looking for new faces for television just so that they could fill these shows
- and then those numerous game shows with easy money - I am yet to meet one who ever won something in those shows

I zeroed in on a "rendezvous" type show - only because I found the wardrobe of the anchor interesting.. One by one the episodes kept streaming and I began downing a few of those. Pretty soon I was so used to the format (those folks had a reason for making it a weekly thingy) - her usual greetings (I could mimic her better than I could mimic Pepsi Uma), some chit chat and then the numerous details from the guests - their history, their family, their education ( or the lack of it), their accomplishments when growing up (a.ka. mastering strategies for copying, bullying friends, tackling parents, establishing their supremacy over next door girls), etc. etc. etc...

This particular one also turned into a promo for a young actor's film - during the course of which I got to hear enough about his hard work, his sleepless nights, his weight loss from irregular eating, his hours in gym, his "risk" taking - all for a mere few lakhs of rupees ( did I add that it was guaranteed despite the result) and then the light at the end of the tunnel - "golden" jubilee or whatever it is...

"Impressive", I thought,.. it is hard work everywhere... guess the grass is not green enough anywhere..

The washer buzzed, the microwave beeped, the cop car howled and I was almost ready to get back to life.. almost.. when,

The pages of that book next to me fluttered - pages with just print on pale paper.. "Mmm..", I thought, "Perhaps not glamorous enough for the theme for this afternoon",.. But then, I picked it up. Just as I thought, it was yet another boring article on something that I knew already - statistics on the 1000 crore industry in India and then paragraph after paragraph with stories of kids who work there, risking disfigurement for life, eating irregularly (guess they are on diet too), enduring sleepless nights (perhaps they were too lazy to have a hot shower before going to bed) and with hands that became rough as day after day passed with 12 hours' work.

And then the weekly pay day brings a solid 100 bucks ! Not bad huh,.. not bad...

So what if they will never sleep with their stomachs filled to their content
So what if they will never feel "painlessness"
So what if they will never go to school, leave alone playing pranks
So what if the tunnel is all they will know

They will still have the pride in being part of a 1000 crore industry and keep subsidizing my kids' Engineering education too.
They will be able to contribute to the economy more than I do - thanks to their fathers' loyalty to the booze shops.
To top it all, they will somehow be able to shell out that 5 rupees to watch the movie of their "thalaivar" or "anna" or "deivam" or whatever it is !

OH, BY THE WAY, did I tell you that the interview ended with a shot of about 100 rural teens - waving and fighting for their turn to get their face on camera to wish their "star" many many more successes in future !

I said to myself "Of course, HARD WORK does pay" !!

The drier buzzed, the oven beeped, the fire engine cried and I could not wait to get back to my Saturday afternoon routine !

Back after a while....

2008-06-13T12:05:00.001-04:00

Alright ! I am back finally.. Yeah, it’s been a while since I blogged.
And OH-BY THE WAY, how I love the convenience of the term "a while"

"Sorry I didn’t notice, it’s been a while since I checked my mails"

"Oh, I plan to work here in the US for a while before I go back home"

"Know what, let’s chat for a while and see where it goes"

"It’s going to take me a while to get back to you on these numbers"

In this case for me, "a while" turned out to be four years - enough time to change a job, leave the country, get another degree, get back to work, get back to my music, put my 20 year dream of learning dance into action, ask the next "what next..." and in the process come across more than my share of "a while"s - now that I think of it, it did not take long to make those choices...- call it intuition, call it impulse, call it shortsightedness or just plain youthful (you bet :P) arrogance. And yet, boy am I not happy I did what I did !

Would I have done things differently and better if I had taken "a while"? Perhaps,..
But, am I complaining about not taking that while ? You bet NOT.

While I admire those who could look 300 light years ahead, I guess I pride my impulse - the color and spice it adds to life (trust me, if gray is your office's color theme and blues, blacks, grays and browns are all that you can have in the wardrobe, you will not complain about any amount of color). Agreed, it might have not quite worked in a few instances, but hey, with a quarter of a century behind me already and with only a few more centuries left to do the 700 million things before I sleep, I ain't slowing down...