Love the smell of earth when it starts to rain...
Hate that my feet get all messy in the rain...
Love walking down empty roads on fresh Sunday mornings...
Hate that none of the shops are open...
Love that I can still call Mum and cry like baby...
Hate that no one else thinks of me as a baby...
Love sipping coffee on lonely evenings...
Hate that I have to make the coffee...
Love exploring new stuff...
Hate that things are not the same anymore...
Love making fake acceptance speeches for winning the Pulitzer...
Hate having to get up in the morning and go write some stupid article...
Love that piece of pizza with extra cheese...
Hate the amount of weight I'm going to put on...
Love holding hands with that special someone...
Hate that I cant walk at my own pace...
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Thursday, April 29, 2010
On Grandpas
Everyone has two sets of grandparents, and being a typical non industry experiment kid, I too had the said two sets of grandparents. And as is the case in most instances, my paternal and maternal grandpas were as different as chalk and cheese.
My dad’s dad was lean n lanky and almost completely devoid of any all consuming passion besides his deep seated respect and reverence for the almighty and the practice of medicine which was his profession. My mom’s dad on the other hand was highly passionate about everything he did, from repairing derelict machines to gardening to carpentry and so on. His drive would have rivaled that of the most successful business moguls and as for his reverence for God, well its best left unsaid.
Despite their great disparity in all aspects, they had profound respect and admiration for one another. And one of the other things common to them was me, their grandchild, and I must admit, the indulgence that I got from both quarters would be simply unsurpassed by most grand pas. I most undoubtedly had the most involved grandpas outdoing themselves with their supreme pampering of me. (I was like the cat that got the cream all year through!)
Although there are various things I remember both of them doing with startling similarity, there are two things that stay with me always. As is the norm with kids, I too enjoyed all sorts of board games and for lack of other willing victims; grandparents were the staple partners in such activities. The level of importance I attached to these games was without doubt tremendous. So whenever they would understand that the situation was getting heated they would invent some new rule which would effectively pave the way for my victory. And in my naiveté I never realized the game my grandpas were playing with me! Now when I look back, there was a remarkable similarity in their approach.
Another passion in those days was mangoes. I craved the juicy king among fruits. And fuelling my passion, with all their earnest love for me, were my Grandpas. While one helped me pick them up at the wee hours of mornings, just before his bath, from all over the vast courtyard; the other bought cartloads of the yummy stuff and watched while I giggled my way through them. Of course the women frowned at this passion, because of the extreme levels of muck and dirtiness involved. But my Grandpas were unanimous in their opinion that kids should be kids. Both would recount with glee their own days of mango eating- mostly unsolicited that too.
Now both of them have gone to a better place and with them my love for board games and mangoes too have been extinguished. It’s just not the same without them around! I was incredibly lucky to have such great individuals to look up to… and while I miss them terribly, I know they are still united in another interest… looking out for me n the rest of the people who meant so much to them! Cheers to Grandpas!
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
To Be Or Not To Be
Well I too am presented with a dilemma like our famous tragic hero, Hamlet. However mine is not a highly philosophical pondering on the intricacies of the delightful enigma called life. It can more aptly be described as a wondering. I am extremely curious, about the delicate matter of the perception of age. This question of mine, can, I think be included in the great mysteries of life. Isn’t it indeed undeniably amusing, the vague, intangible quality of age?
This vagueness is particularly useful to our parents who very easily manipulate this elusive quality into a so called justifiable reasoning for all their arguments of why we should not do the things that we so want to do.
In a matter of two minutes, you can go from being too old, burdened with the wearisome experience of your many years, to a completely vulnerable, highly inexperienced idiot, who is definitely not old enough to engage in whatever propensity you set your hearts to. It is amazing how; parents have perfected the art of using this ‘timely’ device, in concocting all sorts of excuses to prevent their offspring from getting into what they assume will most certainly be unpleasant situations. How can you be old enough to go the store and buy all the provisions for the house AND live alone, but too young to stay out after 7?
Age also becomes a highly subjective issue with parents. While you may be too young to try that addled idea of your neighbors, your two year old sister might prove with her highly developed gurgles, that she is in fact more suitable to go on the said addled expedition! Sometimes these carefully constructed defenses of our parents are positively hilarious.
Also our age related qualification for tasks also change according to the conveniences of our busy parents. While you might be deemed too young to go for your music class on your own today, by miraculous intervention, tomorrow you could blossom into a mature adult, highly capable of shouldering this mountainous task (Of course the hidden reason behind this is that the mom, or, dad, or both are busy with some absolutely unavoidable task).
Although I admit that this super efficient child management system defies all other parental inventions, I think it is creating widespread identity crisis. Are we old enough, or are we too young. Scientific research has proven that this could very well be the new chicken or egg situation. Cheers to the parenting community for coming up with the invention of the century.
This vagueness is particularly useful to our parents who very easily manipulate this elusive quality into a so called justifiable reasoning for all their arguments of why we should not do the things that we so want to do.
In a matter of two minutes, you can go from being too old, burdened with the wearisome experience of your many years, to a completely vulnerable, highly inexperienced idiot, who is definitely not old enough to engage in whatever propensity you set your hearts to. It is amazing how; parents have perfected the art of using this ‘timely’ device, in concocting all sorts of excuses to prevent their offspring from getting into what they assume will most certainly be unpleasant situations. How can you be old enough to go the store and buy all the provisions for the house AND live alone, but too young to stay out after 7?
Age also becomes a highly subjective issue with parents. While you may be too young to try that addled idea of your neighbors, your two year old sister might prove with her highly developed gurgles, that she is in fact more suitable to go on the said addled expedition! Sometimes these carefully constructed defenses of our parents are positively hilarious.
Also our age related qualification for tasks also change according to the conveniences of our busy parents. While you might be deemed too young to go for your music class on your own today, by miraculous intervention, tomorrow you could blossom into a mature adult, highly capable of shouldering this mountainous task (Of course the hidden reason behind this is that the mom, or, dad, or both are busy with some absolutely unavoidable task).
Although I admit that this super efficient child management system defies all other parental inventions, I think it is creating widespread identity crisis. Are we old enough, or are we too young. Scientific research has proven that this could very well be the new chicken or egg situation. Cheers to the parenting community for coming up with the invention of the century.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
SV, SJ and KPR!
It was customary for Mom and me to go visit my paternal grandparents during our vacations. On one such visit, my Grandmother, with me as her scribe, came up with a series of crime fiction based on the eponymous three characters. Now these new Sherlocks and Poirots were heavily based on myself and my two cousins.
Our adventures were many. It ranged from rescuing hapless young girls from leering audacious men, to gruesome murder mysteries. With every passing novella, their activities became murkier and their thirst for crime or rather solving crime became positively frightful. Initially my enthusiasm for the project was great. I spent hours with her, discussing storylines, affecting alterations and generally putting myself into the task of creating what I believed was a masterpiece.
Eventually these mysteries came to a standstill. Not for lack of imagination, but rather the impetuousness in me for more physical activity deprived my grandma of her scribe. Being terribly shortsighted, she was past the age of active writing. And since, computers are still scoffed at in that part of my country, digital help was simply unimaginable.
Although the adventures of SV, SJ and KPR might not see the light of day, I think they rival Conan Doyle and Agatha Christie. My Grandma’s simple faith in our extraordinary capabilities was transformed into stories of superior quality. Now when I look back, and think of how I ran off to play with the girl next door, I can see that look of faint disappointment in her eyes. Never again did I have the pleasure of being her scribe.
Three cheers to SV, SJ and KPR!
Our adventures were many. It ranged from rescuing hapless young girls from leering audacious men, to gruesome murder mysteries. With every passing novella, their activities became murkier and their thirst for crime or rather solving crime became positively frightful. Initially my enthusiasm for the project was great. I spent hours with her, discussing storylines, affecting alterations and generally putting myself into the task of creating what I believed was a masterpiece.
Eventually these mysteries came to a standstill. Not for lack of imagination, but rather the impetuousness in me for more physical activity deprived my grandma of her scribe. Being terribly shortsighted, she was past the age of active writing. And since, computers are still scoffed at in that part of my country, digital help was simply unimaginable.
Although the adventures of SV, SJ and KPR might not see the light of day, I think they rival Conan Doyle and Agatha Christie. My Grandma’s simple faith in our extraordinary capabilities was transformed into stories of superior quality. Now when I look back, and think of how I ran off to play with the girl next door, I can see that look of faint disappointment in her eyes. Never again did I have the pleasure of being her scribe.
Three cheers to SV, SJ and KPR!
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Jai Ho, Sena!
The Senaites do it once again! Just when the country was starving for some sort of controversy, our highly enterprising Shiv Sena retains their crown for being the controversy kings of the country! I wonder what we would have done if it was not for these most obliging gentlemen, marching to the rescue every time a political drama is desired!
The done to death topic of the marathi mahans is once again the attention grabber. Not even the war on terror has had so many comebacks to the headlines! Just when we think that things are getting boring in the ever lively Mumbai, the Sena comes to the rescue of their prized possession. This time the villain tainting these ‘righteous’ practitioners of democracy, is India’s favorite, scion of the Gandhi Khandan, Rahul Gandhi! His, albeit, tactless praise of the efforts of the North Indians, has garnered the characteristic animosity from the grand old man of Mumbai. And to show his one-upmanship over Gandhi, he has called Sonia Gandhi an “Italian mommy’.
All this is positively yummy for the connoisseurs of controversy. But I think its about time that we as a nation reacted to these slightly demented hysteria. I mean, he must be losing his marbles if he thinks that calling Sonia Gandhi, an ‘Italian mummy’, or claiming that Rahul Gandhi is in danger of losing public favour. Everyone is very well aware of who’s the one losing favour!
It’s about time that our people realize that we must put an end to this entire political hullabaloo. If we cannot function as a nation, what is the point of calling ourselves a country? It is shocking that a man, who is so blatantly mocking the Indian Constitution, is still given the status of a powerful leader. His organization has almost become a terrorist outfit. If this kind of base, immoral and harmful conduct is not terrorism, then what is? The press and the media are serving absolutely no purpose in such a situation. The government fails to do anything fruitful. And most importantly, the life bloods of our country, its citizens, are blissfully overlooking this fiasco as simply a minor infraction in their busy lives.
If we are so very hostile within the country, can we really blame the west for exhibiting racism? Isn’t regionalism a form of racism? If we, as a country are exhibiting such apathy to the situations of our countrymen, then I cannot imagine why any other nation must embrace us with open arms. I am mortally terrified of studying in Mumbai. What if I’m accused of stealing the seats of Maharashtrians and roasted to death? Then I would just become an example, in this country, where such activities become mere stories for the press!
I’m off to pack my bags to any country that will take me in. I’m too terrified to live in this desolate, divided India!
The done to death topic of the marathi mahans is once again the attention grabber. Not even the war on terror has had so many comebacks to the headlines! Just when we think that things are getting boring in the ever lively Mumbai, the Sena comes to the rescue of their prized possession. This time the villain tainting these ‘righteous’ practitioners of democracy, is India’s favorite, scion of the Gandhi Khandan, Rahul Gandhi! His, albeit, tactless praise of the efforts of the North Indians, has garnered the characteristic animosity from the grand old man of Mumbai. And to show his one-upmanship over Gandhi, he has called Sonia Gandhi an “Italian mommy’.
All this is positively yummy for the connoisseurs of controversy. But I think its about time that we as a nation reacted to these slightly demented hysteria. I mean, he must be losing his marbles if he thinks that calling Sonia Gandhi, an ‘Italian mummy’, or claiming that Rahul Gandhi is in danger of losing public favour. Everyone is very well aware of who’s the one losing favour!
It’s about time that our people realize that we must put an end to this entire political hullabaloo. If we cannot function as a nation, what is the point of calling ourselves a country? It is shocking that a man, who is so blatantly mocking the Indian Constitution, is still given the status of a powerful leader. His organization has almost become a terrorist outfit. If this kind of base, immoral and harmful conduct is not terrorism, then what is? The press and the media are serving absolutely no purpose in such a situation. The government fails to do anything fruitful. And most importantly, the life bloods of our country, its citizens, are blissfully overlooking this fiasco as simply a minor infraction in their busy lives.
If we are so very hostile within the country, can we really blame the west for exhibiting racism? Isn’t regionalism a form of racism? If we, as a country are exhibiting such apathy to the situations of our countrymen, then I cannot imagine why any other nation must embrace us with open arms. I am mortally terrified of studying in Mumbai. What if I’m accused of stealing the seats of Maharashtrians and roasted to death? Then I would just become an example, in this country, where such activities become mere stories for the press!
I’m off to pack my bags to any country that will take me in. I’m too terrified to live in this desolate, divided India!
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Germ Free
When I was about 8 or 9, my friends and I had suddenly developed the reading itch. We used to read everything! And by everything, I don’t mean just all the books and comics in the world, but also instructions on medicine bottles, ingredients from packaged food packs and so on. It was as though all the reading material was insufficient, so we had to resort to instructions and ingredients for creative growth!
It was on one such session of reading that this extremely enlightening thing happened. In those days my chosen group of cronies included the most narcissistic people in town (self included).We never lost an opportunity to broadcast our various skills, and since the current obsession was reading, this incessant need to showoff was extended to that also.
It was a tradition of ours, to gather in my house before setting off to school. One grumpy faced morning, during our systematic showing off session, we were busy reading the instructions AND ingredients of a mineral water bottle. Then that all changing statement caught our eye. My friend almost choked on the water he had just drunk! It was that frightening, this great discovery of ours!
Not wanting to waste my chance for one-upmanship I declared solemnly, “Did you see that! It says that the water is germ free! Oh my god! And we have been having all these germs every time we drink water…. Look at their cruelty! And they are advertising it! Saying that it’s free!!!”
Without wasting a moment, we began discussing what we must do. The official group sissy declared that he would stop drinking water altogether. The more enterprising amongst us decided that we must complain about it to the people who make water (yeah , that would be interesting). While our life changing talk was gaining momentum, my mom burst in on us. Seeing that gleam in her eye, I started with my explanation about what was going on. Surely germ free water was more important than school!
With great exasperation she exclaimed, “You foolish kids! It doesn’t mean that there are free germs floating about in water. It just means that the water is free FROM germs. All of you! Finding ways to delay going to school… As it is I think you are going to be late! Come on hurry up!....”
In her tirade against us, Mom had not seen the ghastly expression on my face. Although all the twits had come up with the same assumption, it was I who had broached that issue. Being the all knowing soul that I assumed myself to be, I could not wait to display my wit to all. As I turned around , and began my walk to school, the smug satisfaction of my friends began in full swing.
“ I never thought it was so you know”
“ Me too.”
“ Ramya, be careful of what you tell people”
“I know you gave me a scare”
Sigh! But just you wait morons, I too will have my day! Then you’ll see!!
It was on one such session of reading that this extremely enlightening thing happened. In those days my chosen group of cronies included the most narcissistic people in town (self included).We never lost an opportunity to broadcast our various skills, and since the current obsession was reading, this incessant need to showoff was extended to that also.
It was a tradition of ours, to gather in my house before setting off to school. One grumpy faced morning, during our systematic showing off session, we were busy reading the instructions AND ingredients of a mineral water bottle. Then that all changing statement caught our eye. My friend almost choked on the water he had just drunk! It was that frightening, this great discovery of ours!
Not wanting to waste my chance for one-upmanship I declared solemnly, “Did you see that! It says that the water is germ free! Oh my god! And we have been having all these germs every time we drink water…. Look at their cruelty! And they are advertising it! Saying that it’s free!!!”
Without wasting a moment, we began discussing what we must do. The official group sissy declared that he would stop drinking water altogether. The more enterprising amongst us decided that we must complain about it to the people who make water (yeah , that would be interesting). While our life changing talk was gaining momentum, my mom burst in on us. Seeing that gleam in her eye, I started with my explanation about what was going on. Surely germ free water was more important than school!
With great exasperation she exclaimed, “You foolish kids! It doesn’t mean that there are free germs floating about in water. It just means that the water is free FROM germs. All of you! Finding ways to delay going to school… As it is I think you are going to be late! Come on hurry up!....”
In her tirade against us, Mom had not seen the ghastly expression on my face. Although all the twits had come up with the same assumption, it was I who had broached that issue. Being the all knowing soul that I assumed myself to be, I could not wait to display my wit to all. As I turned around , and began my walk to school, the smug satisfaction of my friends began in full swing.
“ I never thought it was so you know”
“ Me too.”
“ Ramya, be careful of what you tell people”
“I know you gave me a scare”
Sigh! But just you wait morons, I too will have my day! Then you’ll see!!
Monday, December 21, 2009
I shut my eyes,
To block the light,
As the thunder of a life
Gone by,
Came crashing through.
I did not see,
And I could not
Hear
Of a life so dear,
Taken from me.
I shut my eyes,
Waiting for the tears,
But they were crouching,
Safe
In unreal ecstasy.
But I heard.
I heard the painful
Thunder of utter
Despair,
I shut my eyes.
Go away, I said,
Leave me be
For I did not want to
See
And I could not
Hear.
The echo of the thunder,
Rumbled in my ears,
Ringing for years
Until I opened
My eyes.
I saw
With the eyes
Of spirit,
My past bereft,
And my future desolate
And then the tears poured,
Like a tossing, angry stream,
And in real fantasy,
My dream crumbled before me.
But I wrenched it off me,
The despair and the fear,
I tossed it into the sea,
And trod unto the land
Called eternity!
To block the light,
As the thunder of a life
Gone by,
Came crashing through.
I did not see,
And I could not
Hear
Of a life so dear,
Taken from me.
I shut my eyes,
Waiting for the tears,
But they were crouching,
Safe
In unreal ecstasy.
But I heard.
I heard the painful
Thunder of utter
Despair,
I shut my eyes.
Go away, I said,
Leave me be
For I did not want to
See
And I could not
Hear.
The echo of the thunder,
Rumbled in my ears,
Ringing for years
Until I opened
My eyes.
I saw
With the eyes
Of spirit,
My past bereft,
And my future desolate
And then the tears poured,
Like a tossing, angry stream,
And in real fantasy,
My dream crumbled before me.
But I wrenched it off me,
The despair and the fear,
I tossed it into the sea,
And trod unto the land
Called eternity!
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