Happy New Year, Here's to Friendship

The new year dawned a while ago but it's only now that I begin to dust the cobwebs and get started. ( Do not pay attention to the dateline !!!!)My apologies to all my friends who must think me inconsiderate and least thoughful.After all, no one got a call or a wish from me, right? The New Year SMSs had begun two days before the date (veterans realize the New Year's eve will see clogged inboxes and heavy traffic) ranging from straight n simple to clever n complicated .I'm still trying to figure out some of them! But everytime there's a message beep, I am clueless about the sender and have to promptly message back; ''Thank you for your wishes but you'll have to enlighten me as to who you are as I have had a mobile mishap and hence lost all my contacts" Folks are kind enough to SMS their names. They understand that I am hopeless at numbers. These cell phones have really spoilt us numerophobics. I do not know my bette half's cell number or office number without scrolling down the contact list. Sometimes I'm stricken with a Aamir-like memory loss that I can't even recall my own number!

For those of you curious about the mobile mishap- relax ,I haven't lost my nth cell phone . The phone I had been using had been a very old, worn out( yes literally the nos were worn out , some of them) one and even if I were to misplace it like on many previous occassions, the most desperate of thiefs would leave it alone. But it worked ,was uncomplicated and what is more the battery never died on me like other fancy phones. I knew this was a tough guy who would stay with me forever.
But all things must come to a pass and under a strange circumstance it fell off my jeans pocket and into a toilet! A hotel toilet at that . I dunno if it's a consolation to hearfor those of you with delicate sensibilities but it fell only when the flush had almost finished its work! I didn't have much time to contemplate as we were checking out and our cab was waiting. I gingerly picked up the phone, washed it for whatever it was worth and walked out.
Miracle of miracles , the phone worked all of that day and almost half of the next when it finally couldn't take the trauma anymore. It just died and with it took all my contacts. So the only friends I can be in touch with now, are those who called and those who I knew ages ago before the mobile revolution came about. The Address Book of old to the rescue!
In a way I'm glad.Atleast I'll know those who want to really get in touch can call. Which brings us to this "friends" issue in this day and age. I have observed people on FB with some 300 odd friends and counting...Do folks really have that many pals for real ? Or is it another status symbol ? Me, I have only an unimpressive 30 odd. Truth is that I don't even network.. As for some of my very dear friends, they refuse to get on FB..But seriously, do we need a Face Book to keep in touch? We have a telephone, we have an email ID and don't we have a minute to spare for one person alone? I can't afford to pontify becoz I simply haven't called anyone of late. Have written to some but not to all..And to those I apologise..as we grow older , our list of friends grow longer, there are some who we grow up with, some we meet along the way, sometimes it's a connection we make when we least expect it ( looking back I've made the unlikeliest of friends some times, read-people not like Me) but yet in thier own unique way , they leave a footprint alongside your way. Don't they deserve a solo hearing? Here's to all my dear fellow travellers ( most of them don't even know this blog exists) , this one is for you....

A French getaway

Didn't mean to get into the travel journal mode but hardly did we unpack suitcases from one holiday when a rare two- day weekend cropped up and Saturday morning saw us driving down to Pondicherry. Pondi-Chennai highway is scenic and one doesn't even feel the three hour distance. Since the French relinquished their claim over Pondy only in 1954 , this little town is tres français in many ways. The French quarter is particularly charming roads with names like rue Romain Rolland and rue Sufferen dotted with high- walled colonial villas. Seems like another time , another place.On that warm, lazy afternoon,nothing stirred. Siesta time perhaps .

Walking down rue Dumas after a leisurely late French lunch at a heritage villa turned restaurant , we wandered into a 19th Century church, Notre Dame de Anges. Beautiful stainglass windows, cool limestone interiors ( apparently plastered with egg shells) and exquisitely carved stations of the cross. I took my girl around and explained the story of Jesus' (non)trial and cruxification. Sitting in the pew , I searched the compassionate face of Jesus for answers. In these troubled times, don't we need some one to come down and help make sense of all the chaos? It's been a while since I prayed and pray I did in this beautiful church to an old familiar god.

Drove back to our beach resort so that T wouldn't miss her pottery session . I found a book I was long looking for, in the hotel library so spent the evening reading by the sea... That's the pace of life in Pondicherry where all's well with the world. For someone always looking for something to do and somewhere to go , I found that I was actually enjoying the serenity of the place and this lotus eating leisurely languor that set in .

But dawn saw enthusiastic father and daughter run down to the beach for a splash .In between they managed to build an Egyptian style tomb with interconnected passages et al! Why is it we never tire of beach holidays? Pondicherry is a perfect option becoz it isn't too crowded and has a laid back feel.

Avoided the Ashram/Auroville part all together. The concept and philosophy goes way above my simple , uncomplicated head.But if some people find their haven there, good for them. The first time I checked out the Auroville scene while in college with a couple of college friends , it was uncomfortable and oppressive for unexplianable reasons. Plus Pondicherry itself was not on any tourist map at that point in time and getting to Auroville by public transport was impossible. We trudged 4 kilometers in the blazing sun after getting off a bus on the main road.Now there are autorickshaws and little shops , guest houses all along the way. Though wonder what the average local tourist makes of it. They do arrive by the bus loads !
I can think of a couple of folks who might just fit into this place, must make a note to tell them about it ( that is if these hermits actually pick up the telephone!!)
Coming back to the rest of us the food here is something fabulous. The restaurants in the French quarter offer an eclectic cuisine- French, creole, continental , chettinad, italian...you can take your pick. We of course prefered to eat French and Creole .Driving past another narrow street, an intoxicating smell stopped us right on our tracks. We stopped and reversed literally. It was the heady smell of chocolate from a little place aptly named Chocolat! I must confess that for a person with no sweet tooth whatsoever like moi, it was sweet surrender. The young man who owned the place seemed enthusiastic and ready to experiment.He had gone to France to learn his chocolate making and now he was running this sinfully exotic place . His wares were out of this world but pricey. I guess indulgences are always a luxury one should feel a little guilty about later ..or what is the fun?
There are more facets to this little seaside town which we plan to explore the next time (ther's always the next time!!!) Everyone who makes their weekend trip here ( more Bangaloreans that Chennaites) have their own take of the place..So go check out and write your own story...Au revoir!

Feline fancies

Are you a cat person or a dog person ?
This topic divides the populace, just like India and Pakistan. And despite the extremist views that exist on the K issue , there are several Indians and Pakistanis who like each other . Not convinced? Think again...how many of you liked Nazia Hassan and crushed on Zoheb when Disco Deewane raged in the early 80s? How many of you like Junoon and Adnan Sami? I absolutely adore Mohammed Hanif ( those of you who like to read, check out his Case of Exploding Mangoes ) and Mohsin Hamid. Likewise, some people love cats and dogs almost with the same passion but I don't belong to that category. Sure kittens look cute , adorable and all other adjectives that cat lovers come up with but for me , a cat is a cat is cat..I don't want to hurt feelings of my dear cat lover friends. But this ginger cat that moans ( or whines ) eerily in the evenings near my home gets me..Oh no, I don't hate cats , rather I tolerate them to the extent that I remember feeding a cat every day at my hostel after my cat lover friend left . But that was for a dear friend and not for the cat! Yet I did it without any ill feeling. And one confession-I never liked Garfield !
My Egypt trip was full of cat encounters..There were cats just about everywhere.In the evenings, they would wander around parks and public places ,to share the iftar meal with families who liked to break their fasts in picnic mode ( wonderful aromas of kebabs and biriyani would fill the air..can't blame them !) . Egyptians are tolerant of cats as they are traditionally the people who domesticated cats in the first place. Cat has a place in their pantheon of gods too. Bas or Bastet, a goddess with the cat's head and a woman's body is the goddess of the home, fertility, women among other things.. The Egyptians loved their cats to the extent that there are even they were mummified like their masters Besides cat mummies , we saw other aninal mummies too dog, croc ,cow, baboon , horse, all at the wonderful museum they have at Cairo. And before you ask-no camel mummies! Ahh..that cat it's begun making that creepy noise again....

An Egyptian sojourn

A lot of pressure for this one so I shall., though personally I'm still absorbing what I saw and heard a week ago.Our much planned -put off yet-again trip to the Pharoahs' land finally happened ..A ten day trip complete with an unforgetable cruise down the Nile.

Egyptians are an amazing people..rather I speak for the ancient souls who lived over 3000 years ago . What they left behind is a series of awe inspiring temples and tombs..and ofcourse their mummies ! Since, they were only concerned about their after life rather than the one they spend on earth they didn't bother too much about their homes in this world..Apparently all home (palaces include ) were built of mud so didn't last the passage of time. The Pharoahs set about building their tombs and preparing for after life as soon as they ascended the throne! We visited the Valley of Kings ( and Queens) where we saw the elaborate hyroglypic art . By now, I can deciper some some of the symbolism and representations though the Robert Langdon amongst us is clearly daughter dearest who says her back up plan , in case she doesn't make it to NASA is to become an Egyptologist !
Entering the tombs you feel a sense of guilt for the ancients had not meant them for us to visit..It was only for the soul Ka, to return to the resting place and identify the mortal remains (by reading the cartouche -the name written in hyroglyphics-incribed on the sacrophagus ) The ancient Egyptians believed that whatever age one shed the earthly body the Ka returned and one continued one's afterlife aged 20! Ah, that's a nice thought..to be twenty again.....Ofcourse for King Tut twenty was an age he hadn't reached as the teenaged Pharoah was mysteriously killed(died ) aged 17. Seeing his mummy at ther Valley of Kings was a poignant moment...his love story is there for all to see in various Papyrus paintings. At the Egyptian museum in Cairo later, we would see the treasures from his tomb, his jewellery, his throne, his bed, all the things they packed with a Pharoah in his tomb for his after life..Contrary to popular belief the Pharoahs didn't kill their servants to add to their retinue for after life.Rather they made statues of them which would come to life when a magic charm (also inscribed in the tomb ) was uttered once the Ka came home as it were..King Tut and his young wife Ankhsenamun made a goodlooking young couple sitting in the Karnak temple .They looked alike which can easily be explained as they were siblings. To be a Pharoah you had to marry royal stock of blue blood pure, therefore, the Pharoahs always ended up marrying sisters (in this case half sister, she was the beautiful Nefertiti's daughter ) stepmothers or aunts ! Imagine the plight of some who had to marry old women just so they could be Pharoah! The price of Power! The famed Pyramids were huge by any standards, we did manage to go inside , bent double , breathing in the musty odour of those airless mausoleums..Aren't we disturbing the dead , asked little Ms Langdon as we almost crawled through the length of the Pyramid..I guess they were long disturbed by the tomb robbers who left nothing behind.
Cairo is not as alluring as the historic towns of Luxor or Azwan.Downtown Cairo is like bits of East Delhi, crowded and packed choc-a -bloc with sad looking apartments..At Cairo , we did as Romans do and observed the Ramadan fast as food was scarce at lunch hour..But that was okay since there was so much to see and so little time...Everyone on the street wanted to know if we knew Amitabh Bachchan ( at one point S replied "no, I don't know him" ) Some even shouted Shahrukh's and Aamir's names , but that was just once or twice..Khans , take note Amar Akbar Antonio rules!!!!Wound up our tour in the Grecian city of Alexandria..another place altogether by the beautiful Mediterrenean Sea. There's something about beach towns that get me.. That way am glad for this Madras sojourn for now...come Puja weekend a trip to Pondicherry for a little bit of French flavour...Something tells me I haven't seen the last of Egypt though.....

Begin the beguine, once more

For those of you clueless about the title, Begin the beguine is a Cole Porter song.Decided today that enough is enough, one has to start right Now..Everybody I know seems to have a writer's block ..Seriously- authors,journalists, fellow blogger comarades...is it a contagious disease giving flavour of the season swine flu a run for its money? (Talk about swine flu, glad the panic is over atleast in the media .and more positively, I think I've recieved the last of the swine flu alarm forwards and SMS jokes...) Anyway, good to be back and work has piled up..writing ones I mean and I can't afford to continue on block mode,,
Excuses are many. Comp crashed ..a trip abroad and simply lethargy of mind...But I guess one has to begin again..In the meantime acquired a laptop but I must confess I can't wait to get back the hard disk of my battered old PC..My life is there...
Will begin a series of musings shortly so friends and followers,( I mean literally the blog followers!) this is just to let you know I'm Back! See you soon for a cafe au lait !

Life in the time of Swine flu

It's been some time and friends keep asking where is the brew...so begin I must else lethargy and inertia will carry me away as usual..Fellow bloggers seems to be going thro a lull too what's with all of us???? Anyway the flavour of the season is the dreaded swineflu..it's upon us creeping up stealthly and I'm sure all of you must be inundated with beware- the- swineflu- cometh advice clogging your inboxes. Panic buttons are being pressed by the media who is looking to feed us alarmist copy all the while . Ofcourse there 's cause to be afraid becoz the virus needs no excuse to spread..Be afraid ,very afraid...Parents are keeping their kids home fearful their kids must catch it in school but for how long ? Only hope those people who actually have the symptoms take enough precautions and stay at home . This is going to be a long haul and let's hope our govt depts take enough serious and earnest steps to stem the tide..Our best bet in these troubled times is that someone comes out with a preventive vaccine..but the swine of a virus this one is, it can mutate and take different strains . What can we do in these troubled times other than developing some Obsessive Compulsive Disorders like washing your hands with a sanitizer every time you touch something when you are out of your home ( touch a doorknob wash, use office PC wash, press the lift button wash, ....) walk around with those aquamarine face masks making a fashion statement , eating your daily dose of vitamin C and your greens and hoping that the virus will perhaps overlook you...An ayurvedic practitioner has declared a bovine cure for the swine menace.He prescribes the Panchagavya ( which is a concoction of five ingredients from cow produce- milk, ghee, butter, urine and dung ) for the afflicted. How can I forget this dreaded concoction, a fixture at all the homams we had to sit thro in many a smoke filled room as kids? Of course we would go at the end of the session , all red eyed and miserable to receive the holy prasadam from the chief conductor of ceremonies who put us thro that hours- long torture , only to quickly run out and throw it away and wash hands with all that relief of getting out that never-ending ordeal ! I'd rather Swineflu than cow refuse !
In the middle of all this swine scare, a dear friend has just recovered from what is known as Tomato fever in those parts of the world she lives in. Apparently, this fever makes you look red like a tomato coupled with body pains, joint aches and rashes .Exposure to sun aggravates the condition and those blessed with very fair and rosy complexion ( like my friend ) have it doubly difficult..She's on the road to recovery now but she dare not step out for a while becoz the sun doesn't yet have a soft spot for her...
Whatever viruses will we have next???Any body out there with any other assorted fevers?Please write in....

To Gorby with Love

George Clooney is one of the most intelligent, politically- savvy, talented and versatile of our Hollywood stars. Ofcourse, it goes without saying that a bulk of his female admirers go for the drool factor. But Clooney has something else on his mind these days. Memories of Max, the pig , his deceased pet haunt him so relentlessly , that he has now enlisted the help of a psychic . Mr Clooney hopes the medium will help him get in touch with the spirit of his beloved "Max The Star ," who left for his heavenly abode three years ago. Apparently, Max has been his companion for 18 long years which must be Clooney's record of sorts for holding onto a sustaining relationship.( He's onto yet another cocktail waitress these days) .To be fair to Mr Clooney, Pets are an infinitely better option when you are looking for comfort and companionship. I'm sure all of us who have had pets who moved on to the next world will agree. Every time my daughter's friend sees a dalmatian, she would wistfully whisper " Bobby ".Bobby was her their family's first pet, atleast the one she knew from the time she was born.

When I read this news item , my mind went back to Gorby, my pet Lhasa Apso who passed away many moons ago under tragic circumstances. He too was more than a pet dog. From the day he walked into our home and hearts as a helpless little bundle of fur, he had us all eating out his hand..Gorby was the most important member of the family as far as my father and I were concerned. There was a point when my brother accused us of frequenting only restaurants which served Butter Nans and Chicken Tikka, just so the one waiting in the car could eat his favourite dishes . Our other dogs who lived a less previleged life in the kennels too envied Gorby's high flying lifestyle. He travelled widely, endeared himself to whoever he met ( except the folks in the hotel we stayed in Chennai , who wouldn't allow him to stay in our room ) and lived life Kingsize so to speak.Someone once remarked, that he must have been some noble being in his last birth fated to lead do a dog's life this time around..Whatever, it was Gorby was Gorby- companion, family member and creature comfort. If I could enlist the help of Mr Clooney's psychic, what shall I ask Gorby? Do they serve you Nans and Tikkas in heaven, Gorby ? Is there some way I can send you a parcel?

Writer's Block

Procrastrination is a very big word..I'll learn to spell it may be another day..Story of my life ! How many of you put off that chore that you simply must do or have to do ? My deadline came and went .I was relieved ..Okay I will do it ( may be ) next year...Then S tells me that the deadline is June 30th.. I have now a fortnight..can I do it ? Wish I could do the Obama thing..Yes I Can!!

Oh oh...have you guessed it..Coming back to this post after three whole days..Guess am taking the post topic very seriously !!!

Wise men say that you will do what you want to do ,if you really really really want to so bad... Point is how badly does one want anything? Drive and ambition are great qualities one would aspire to have..But my question is ,how is that the really cool and laid back dudes ( and dudettes ) manage to do what they want without really seeming to put in that effort ? Need some tips desperately....Ofcourse I know the familiar ones.

1.Put down your prioriites

2 Set yourself a deadline

3 One thing at a time ( this is where I fail miserably ..my mind works over time planning different things all at the same time .. )

4 Focus, focus focus...like Arjuna and and the bird's eye.

5.Dream...( this I'm very good at ) for your dreams have wings.

That 's it..now for your take ...As for me , got to my project...finally !

Author Author !

Just finished a breathless journey with Prof Robert Langdon thro the Vatican City and its secret lairs and I must say Whew! That was some trip Mr Brown..Can't wait to see the film now ( For those not clued in, talking about the book "Angels and Demons" -now a major motion picture ) For those of you who plan on seeing the film this weekend as it releases here, I have one word of advice..read the book otherwise it may seem like a roller coaster ride that you can't quite figure out. And those who are livid with the creator/film maker for hurting religious sentiments i would say..Keep the faith.

At the risk of sounding snobbish.I have to confess best sellers are not exactly my cup of tea. Give me Murakami, Fitzgerald, Ilosa, Marquez, Hemingway,Amitav Ghosh, Rushdie and that growing breed of talented little known Scottish writers any day..there are books you never want to get out of...have you ever felt that tinge of sadness and longing at the end of a really good book? That you didn't want to wake up from that almost real world you found yourself in ( however improbable and bizzare it may seem..) That is when you truly know a genius. May their tribe increase !

Book shelves in the swanky bookstores are crammed with newer and newer authors Every other guy is an author. Best sellers( ?????!!!!!!) these days are written by CEOs of successful companies , Wannabe Prime Ministers , IITians ( these guys have hit the jackpot though ) a whole lot of people who have joined the bandwagon. Publishers give the contracts to these guys becoz they would guarantee sales of the mandatory 1500 copies, either buying it themselves or forcing it upon their minions..But look beyond the display shelves and browse among darkest and deepest of corners ,you might come up with a treasure which the sales guys don't bother to promote..Good literature never prostituted itself..Book promos these days are undertaken by media -savvy authors..It helps if you are good looking and have an attitude to boot. Smart sound bytes and couple of tete-tete with a TV anchor, you have arrived. Who knows , some editor might reward you with a column ! Where are the reclusive, eccentric,talented writer of yore? You will find them when you look hard enough..

P.S.I have to add a footnote here. Reading is entirely one's personal choice. What works for me may not work for you..Go out and look for your own personal worlds out there.. And one more thing ..Dan Brown rocks ! May not be great writing but rivetting stuff...

Monsoon blues

Simply can't understand why poets and sundry tourism promoters in Gods Own Country wax eloquent about the monsoons. Sure,Monsoons are pretty sight if you are sitting on your veranda and sipping hot tea watching the rain gods wreak havoc.. But if you have to step out and go about your daily existence it's an entirely different thing...
Ask the average Keralite...Sitting in the Monsoon heartland and waiting for the downpour, my sympathies are with the little ones who begin school in these parts on June 1. They have to fix their huge educational baggage on the back plus the lunch basket and waterbottle..To top this all, the poor kid has to arm himself or herself with a raincoat and an umbrella.
Umbrella makers in Kerala are an innovative lot..Every year they bring out varieties of umbrellas that also function as gadget toys..They know the pester power works...This year the winner seems to be one with the bubble burster ( wonder whether there's a bubble- making facility involving raindrops..in which case, it 's definitely worth the buy..imagine going along collecting raindrops in your umbrella and blowing them as bubbles! What fun! )My daughter and I have made a mental note to check out this one before we leave to our summery homeland .
Monsoons also bring out the creepy crawlies out of their resting places.. Our pet rabbits Cabbage and Lettuce are an adventurous lot and if they survive this monsoon without an encounter we can count ourselves lucky! My nephew and daughter are still recovering from the death of their sqiurell Turner...A cold coming of it I have and if it doesn't give usher in a fit of asthma I 'll be eternally grateful to the rain gods..
Since a good three months of tourist season is at peril, the Kerala government's tourism spin doctors have come out with this wizard of an idea of Monsoon tourism package . They claim that the ayurvedic spa treatments work best in monsoon months! How many fall for this yarn , god only knows...As for me, will pack my bags as I begin to hear the rain drop fall...

The Hills are alive

Long over due post but have been on the move and living out of suitcases almost all weekends this month..But sit down I must and savour the memories of that last weekend up the hills. All of us arrived Saturday morn, sick with anticipation and for some with that familiar queasy feeling as one ascends the mountains..My daughter wanted to throw up and we stopped at a hairpin bend (as these curves are called ) and who greets us as we open the car door but a sombre looking rhesus monkey who refused to make space . We went further up and stopped .But there were rows and rows of monkeys seated like welcome committee members.. Finally the poor child had to resort to her burf bag she'd carried thoughtfully.

It's been a long time but Coonoor remains pretty much the same..we made our way down to Brooklands. Straight out a picture postcard, the cottage stood before us abloom in a riot of colours. Smiling happy faces came out to envelope us in that festive spirit...our bags disappeared inside and we soon scrambled on to a little bus for a trip to school. As we made our way up the familiar drive , we noted the changes the years have brought in. Every space available has been swallowed by concrete structures..more class rooms , labs, computer rooms maybe..(remember Computer was an alien phenomena at the times we lived there.) Orchards, rock gardens have all disappeared.. Only the nuns' garden remained florally magnificient.Thankfully the Chinese guava tree remained ..how many generations have climbed that tree furtively in the cover of many a dark night and shared the spoils among friends with triumph..The taste still lingers in the tongue...A tour of the dorms proved another disappointment as the entire block lay ravaged to make room for renovation..The wash rooms, the infirmary, the dining room was all set for a make over.. We spotted some lockers lying forlornly in the corner of the washroom..they looked the same..the stories they said to us ....we remember all you people who left a part of your lives here inside us- oh those devout ones who enshrined their dieties inside and lit little lamps in worship, the drama queens whose nail varnishes, kajal ,make up and accessories cluttered the little shelves .( all for those sweet Saturday afternoons ) and people( like yours truly) whose lockers remained mostly empty - friends remind me now- becoz I would lend everything I had to needy souls..other times , people took the stuff assuming I would be okay with it ! All I can remember is trying to break the locks becoz the keys I would perpetually lose..Finally I found the solution..Mobaj locks! The lock that opens with a clever twist of a hairpin !
The school ground had aquired an impressive stadium..sports obviously was big even today... When we left without meeting a familar soul there was a little bit of regret tinged with sadness..what did we expect? For the clock to stop or simply turn back..All things must change..Change we found in the neighbourhood eatery from where we used to source our masala dosas and biriyanis ..Sharing a wall with a hotel had its advantages..Even now I guess kids in boarding schools are perpetually hungry and looking for variations to the staple hostel diet...Give us a break from the "transparent vegetable" ( what was that? Chow chow ??) and the watery beet root !But now eating legitimately. seated respectfully on tables and placing our orders as "normal '' customers, the food didn't taste half as good. Menu had expanded but the flavour was missing...Changes.....
Afternoon saw us visiting some old teachers in their homes...Our Math teacher had just become a grandmother..her home which we'd visited while in school looked so pretty that some of the kids wanted to know if we could stay there! Our Biology teacher insisted we eat dinner at her place and our PT teacher cooked us an elaborate and delicious lunch . It was all a coming home feeling..Our Math teacher even brought out our class picture..The day ended and we spent the night talking, getting updated on each others lives ..story so far kind of thing..ofcourse some lives had taken extraordinary turns...bottomline was that we'd all come a long long way....

As a friend had asked before we set out on this pilgrimage, have people changed? Well, Yes and No... One can't be fifteen for ever I guess..but look closely..we have all shaped out the way we set out in the first place..our beloved slumber- loving sloppy friend remains the same but she has reached a higher plane and gone where none of us ever will..Those of us who had a heart- to- heart with her will marvel at her spiritual quest, knowledge , commitment and dedication. Hats off to you V!
As our two- day reunion ended, people began making plans for the next one ,two years from now...We'll be back..Adios Amigos!!

Hail to our Happy School days

So our much postponed, planned dreamt up school gettogether is upon us.. Plans are made, tickets are booked,bags are packed. Fortunately, no cancellations only more additions..A very good sign indeed. I'm only a little disappointed that no one's added to my wish list...come on guys..School, Hidden Valley , a roll down the golf links, a visit to the All Saints Church yard (my personal favourite, reminds me so much of Mrs Xavier and Thomas Gray 's Elegy in a country church yard ) Sims Park, dinner at Blue Hills...what else??? Some one called today and expressed apprehensions about meeting after 25 years..will people have changed, she asked.. I don't really think so , I'd assured her...Becoz as you get older, wiser (????) and cynical, we realize that unconditional friendships have always come from your childhood friends.. All these years , it was the long distance calls of old school pals that helped me get thro life..Fortunately, my having relocated closer south,things are even easier and ties are getting stronger..Which is why this reunion has worked in the first place, I guess.. Looking forward to all of you up there in the hills and hours of happy hours together....

What is your colour today?

Just the other day someone sent me a dessert personality test. Since I don't have a sweet tooth , the choice was rather easy to make -a carrot cake. But can a dessert actually spell your personality? Sometimes these kind of quizes, you do for a lark can be very flattering. But the spin docs got it completley wrong when it came to my husband who chose ice cream. Ice cream preference , apparently translates to an outdoor personality who enjoys a sport or two..Way off the mark when it comes to our man. He'd rather go to concert than a match..But if you were to define a personality witha colour what would it be? All of us have our favourite colours..As for my preferences, I have found, it changes over time.. and phases of life.. Yellows and whites were out of the window a long time ago..Green is passe .Blue is the phase that defines moi these days... not the Blue as in melancoly but the shimmering aquamarine, bright and full of posssibilities. Black at other times..mysterious, deep and dark as the mood takes you.. Your current colour is what you are right now.. What's yours today???

Debbie Wright , where are you?

All you school buddies will remember Debbie Wright. I can't imagine anyone having to look deeper into the recesses of their memory bank to recall that name.Debbie was an unforgettable part of our 13 -year old life and no one would ask "Debbie who" for sure. Debbie was our new classmate in class eight , new becoz she had failed to make the grade for the third consecutive time to go to the next class ( damn the math!) . Make no mistake Debbie was no dumbo..She was smart, sassy, witty and wild! She couldn't simply bother with the numbers maybe.. Debbie added to the glamour quotient that was otherwise lacking in the drab ,gawky world of pre teen and teen girls growing up in a boarding school run by nuns.Her high cheek bones, skinny long legs ( remember those shorts ? ) and that full sleeved shirt worn Bobby style , singing Paper Roses in that clear , lilting voice of hers. There , you have the picture. Debbie was the one who taught us a bit of history, geography and biology. Lessons we didn't get taught in the classrooms, the ones starring the birds and the bees . I dunno if anyone recalls that particularly dramatic day of the solar eclipse in the February of year 1980. We were under curfew, confined to our dorms left to entertain ourselves the entire day. Entertainment was provided courtesy Debbie with her wacky lessons in life and the visit of her boyfriend all the way from Madras . Only Debbie could have a boyfriend who would brave the wrath of the sun and climb the mountain to see his sweetheart! As for the rest of us , the concept of boyfriend itself was alien (those unadulterated days of the 80s ) but we enjoyed the excitement of Debbie sneaking out to visit her Prince Charming.The Prince was hardly charming remarked , one tactless soul who was rewarded a tight slap across her face! OOuch! That must 've hurt! But Debbie was Debbie..Also Mother Courageous who took her own pregnant mom one rainy night to the hospital when her waters broke ( Waters? Whatever is that we asked, Debbie said the whole house was flooded !!!!!) That was when her step sister was being born..Thinking back, Debbie life must've been pretty tough. Rich Father in the Gulf who sponsors her education but nothing else emotionally, mom and step sister to mother back at grandpa's . No wonder then she failed yet again and left the school. Without a trace she dissappeared and our lives continued boring as ever. Debbie was mysterious that way, she left no forwarding address.. Even today I can hear her singing my requests sitting in the sunlit class room before we left school assembly...Debbie Wright where are you ?

Mr Otis regrets but Gandhi does not !

We've been having an overdose of Gandhis these days. Whether it's the hullaboo over the Gandhi memorabilia being auctioned off in the U.S by a Western "Gandhian" and "pacifist" (???) or our little Lotus eater Varun Gandhi spewing venom on Muslims and Sikhs on poll podiums, Gandhi is making news. And none of it pleasant. Wonder what our Father of the Nation is making of it wherever he is right now. His compatriot Pandit Nehru must be squirming uncomfortably by his side, watching his great grandson metamorphing into a monster just like his own papa dearest.

As for Mr Otis, he now regrets the auction after the King of Good times Mallaya bought the Gandhi items for a cool 1.8 billion. Mr Otis is now trying to sit on a moral high horse and wants to cancel the auction but wasn't it him trying to cut a bargain with the Indian govt in the run up? If he was a Gandhian, he could have just turned over the items to the official heirs of the Gandhian legacy-the Navjivan trust. But then Mr Otis is a different Gandhian altogether.As far as we know, he's currently on some 27 day fast for reasons best known to him. Apparently, the man has his share of quirks ; he goes on a silent fast on Sundays much to his wife's annoyance ! Whatever it is, we don't need to strike a deal with an American to get that bit of Gandhi back to us. All we need is to look for Mr Gandhi within ourselves. Spread a little Gandhigiri, Munnabhai jaisa and all will be right with the world. Maybe a certain Mr V.Gandhi could do with a Jadoo ki Jappi .

Unravelling "The Secret"

A couple of years ago, my friend A , overtly sensitive and of delicate emotional constitution ,recommended a book I buy straight away. She said the book had changed the way she looked at life and suddenly everything was going hunky dory .Better still , she had learnt to accept life's situations with a positive frame of mind .As a result, she said , her life was much more relaxed, simpler and nothing bogged her down. I believed her becoz she sounded lighter, happier and completely chilled out. So I walked down to the nearest book store and grabbed a copy. The book was The Secret by a lady named Rhonda Bryne. The theory behind the concept is pretty simple. You can have whatever you want if you will it. She talks about how the universe itself will conspire to give you what you want , if you believe without an iota of doubt in your mind that it will happen. Sounds simple? Well, I tried-Very very hard. But unfortunalely it didn't work ! I didn't blame Rhonda , god bless her, becoz I know exactly why it didn't happen to me. The truth is that I have become such a die hard cynic over the last decade that it's impossible to silence my subconscious and con it to believe that this amazing ( well, not amazing, let's say reasonable ) thing should happen to me.. My life - I'm not complaining here - has become a perfect example of Murphy's law at work .( If anything can go wrong it will ) . So I 'm happy with small mercies. And to expect a windfall is just too much to ask.. Whatever it is, The Secret is not for me. My way, I discovered , is the Buddhist path. I desire nothing , expect nothing and am greatful for whatever nuggets of happiness/contenment life throws my way.It isn't too difficult once you get the hang of it..Atleast it's a lot easier than trying to get that errant inner voice drown in the positve light that The Secret shines for you. But that doesn't mean YOU shouldn't follow the Secret path. It has worked for a lot of people ( I know !) . I have even gifted it to receptive souls, so there! One word of advice though , give it a miss if you are looking for a fix vis a vis your relationships; simply becoz what you want may not exactly what the other party wants ! Get that ?

Cricket in Pak RIP ?

I am not much of cricket fan. But cricket is part of the psyche as family and friends were always obsessed with the game..I guess I just followed the game over the years just to belong, educating myself painfully, leafing thro my brother's Willow Story albums he used to make for the season.Almost a forced crush ( if you can call it that!) on Imran and Akram ( how many of you had the Big Boys Play at night poster of Imran on your walls? ). Thankfully how the times have changed . My husband does not watch cricket and my daughter prefers football. Though the cricket link refuses to go away as a very close friend is a well known sports author and cricket expert. So one does follow the cricket season and catch him on TV giving his expert comments. But now cricket is headline news thanks to Kasab's cousins attacking the hapless Srilankan team yesterday..What was the connection? Maybe for a moment the poor sods got their geography muddled and thought Sri Lanka was part of India ! We are with Dhoni when he says thank goodness we were not there but this I guess is the end of the road for Pakistan as far as cricket is concerned.Maybe the Taliban who will sooner or later take over the rest of Pakistan, don't want the kaffir's game played on their soil..Where does that leave the Pak cricket team? Maybe they would want to seek Indian citizenship ! Allah help them. As for Mr Imran Khan, the politician, he can hoo and ha making the right noises..after all his cricketing days were over ages ago.

So long farewell, a hoax for you and me

Did any of you get Marquez's farewell letter in your inbox? Chances are that you may have and probably been deeply moved by the master story teller's adeiu. Some of us would have even reached for “ The chronicles of a Death Foretold “ in a bid to connect. Well, it now turns out to be a hoax - the handiwork of a ventriloquist named Johnny Welch. God knows how Welch must be feel to be credited with a poem that people all over the world mistook to be the work of a literary genius.
The web is now an instrument to pass on hoax messages about poor little dying girls who you can save by clicking your forward button. and the like. There used to be one in the early days of a Microsoft offer to send you money for forwarding a certain mail and not to mention sundry Nigerians offering to park money in your account. I don't think any of us would have fallen for that crap though I know someone who forwarded me the Microsoft one, although she's neither my friend nor a regular mailer.. It's all about Money Honey! So next time you press the forward button , remember it may be a hoax!

For those of you who have not seen alleged Farewel Letter, here it is... some lessons there even if it not from Marquez...

"If for an instant God were to forget that I am a rag doll and gifted me with a piece of life, possibly I wouldn't say all that I think,but rather I would think of all that I say. I would value things, not for their worth but for what they mean. I would sleep little, dream more,understanding that for each minute we close our eyes we lose sixty seconds of light."I would walk when others hold back, I would wake when others sleep."I would listen when others talk, and how I would enjoy a good chocolate ice cream! If God were to give me a piece of life, I would dress simply, throw myself face first into the sun, baring not only my body but also my soul. My God, if I had a heart, I would write my hate on ice, and wait for the sun to show.. Over the stars I would paint with a Van Gogh dream a Benedetti poem, and a Serrat song would be the serenade I'd offer to the moon. With my tears I would water roses, to feel the pain of their thorns, and the red kiss of their petals..."My god, if I had a piece of life... I wouldn't let a single day pass without telling the people I love that I love them. I would convince each woman and each man that they are my favorites, and I would live in love with love. I would show men how very wrong they are to thinkthat they cease to be in love when they grow old, not knowing that they grow old when they cease to be in love! To a child I shall give wings, butI shall let him learn to fly on his own. I would teach the old tha tdeath does not come with old age, but with forgetting. So much have I learned from you, oh men..."I have learned that everyone wants to live on the peak of themountain, without knowing that real happiness is in how it is scaled.I have learned that when a newborn child squeezes for the first time with his tiny fist his father's finger, he has him trapped forever. I have learned that a man has the right to look down on another onlywhen he has to help the other get to his feet. From you I have learned so many things, but in truth they won't be of much use, for when I keep them within this suitcase, unhappily shall I be dying."

Dosas on discount ! Jai Ho !

Went to the popular Chennai eatery Sangeetha today to meet some old friends over Filter Kapi. The first thing that greets you at the entrance is a huge hoarding of Rahman..Sangeeta has chosen to celebratre Rahman's Oscar by offering a flat discount of 25% on all food bills today. Some connection about Sangeetham and Sangeetha which was lost on me..Anyway we had our discounted coffees , masala dosas, gupshup and unlimited masti.. Rahman is the hottest topic in Chennai..We were talking about his music , best ofs and the like and people from other tables were turning around to catch our conversation trail...Lots of people are wondering if they should get their kids enroll in KM Conservatory (Rahman's music school) in vain hope their kids will bring home an Oscar one day ..Ah, the Slum dog's luckwill not hold true for all mortals .
.On a serious note, Rahman is a musical genius no doubt and deserves his success wherever he goes..But then Jai Ho may not exactly be in a True Rahman fan's Best of List..I'm no Rahman expert but my Filter coffee pals are and they swear by Roja, Bombay, Dil Se and lots more..I personnally love the Jodha Akbar Sufi dervish number Kwaja Mere Kwaja and the Bombay numbers.. Rahman is a lesson in life- that hard work, humility, faith triumphs deservingly always but one can't ignore the man's genius.. Any one for a best of list???