Chew!

Carbon Trust, an independent carbon foot printing agency, measured the carbon footprint of a popular two-litre packaged orange drink and found it to be equal to a carbon dioxide emission of 1.7 kg! This came from the emissions during its processing, packaging and transportation. On the other hand, munching an orange grown locally would have caused a negligible footprint. The point is, what is needed is not one single action but a comprehensive lifestyle change.

From Hindu Metro Plus here

What is your carbon foot print? I am not social activist in any sense, and I do consume all kinds of packaged foods. Infact, I have not even followed on the Copenhagen Summit. But, when I read something like this, my stomach churns and I feel so damn small - almost feel like being invisible.

One of Sadhguru's quotes went like this - If you look at the organisation, capability and the certainity with which a simple ant is conducting its life, you will see you aer quite stupid.

This quote hit me harder only today. Is there any other species, other than humans - who leaves carbon prints? Why is it our tongues carve those orange juices and not bite into a orange? Why are we so persistent on only buying a car,because we are economically more strong - and not spend the same in paying 2 rupees more for organically grown produce?

Nowdays, I am like yuucckk at humans, yeah, that includes me. And - there are no castes in animaldom too.

Eat your plate!

What excessive googling skills, and a passion for food can land you into - http://www.bakeys.com/EdibleCutlery.html

Amazed at their efforts to use jowar, shorgum for making edible cutlery, and the colours from vegetables. Not had a chance to personally use them, but a definite move in social entrepreneurship.

Kitchen Dates - Theraphy

Have you ever gone on a date?

To do some work?

And to learn new recipes?

If no, then you are missing kitchen dates!

I have been on atleast 8 -10 kitchen dates with Chitra Ma, over the last 10 months. And I must say, my personal self has improved drastically. The following are some changes I observe:

A sense of always 'having something to do' - I have a dozen recipes on my "To try" list, at any given point of time.
Better googling skills. Ask me where dill leaves are there in chennai, or where ricotta is available.
More knowledge - Ask me how to use a thermometer in cooking or on how Ferrero Rochers are made. I will tellyou.
More Responsibility - Suprisingly, I have started talking to much older people ( 60+) on recipes, cooking, and traditions. I somehow feel a lot responsible when I talk to older people on things they know best.
More than all this, it is the creative juices flowing. After a tiring week, the best way to unwind is to bake something. This diwali, I made quite some mithai, and felt over the top for most of it. It is so important to have a hobby, and to indulge in it regularly.At least to keep me going! My Kitchen - My Theraphy

:-)

Jam Rolls!
Mango Kesari!
Vanilla Buns
Khara Buns
Cinnamon Rolls!

Stuff that has been filling my weekends! Dedicated to Chitra Ma !

A BPO

has always intrigued me.

Why is it bad, or rather not good and why do the elite clinch their noses when one says about BPO?

Why do I, even as I write this blog just cannot take up the offer from a top notch international BPO?.

There are many tall talkers, debators on this, but I am just trying to think from a very normal person's perspective - one who has a decent graduation, a good linkedin profile and of course a job in hand now.

A line has been drawn - the first step being the core organisations that have a project base in india, the third being BPO's and call centers and the second being all that is left over. My previous company was having one leg in the first step and one in the second. As much as I loved my stint there, I know that the third step is not so much of a steep one.

Whats wrong with me, or rather with people like me, probably you too?

I know this blog post has only questions. But when you are reasoning, answers cannot be blogged! Do share on the answers!

Him and Her : The fine line.

I may not be competent enough, age wise to write on this. But as a representative of a generation of women that is struggling among men and motherhood, I have something to say. These are purely my views based on years of living with men, and mothers. It can be very contradictory, idiotic and refreshing to hear.

There are enough scriptures to speak on the duality of mankind - the symbolization of a man in a woman and a woman in a man. Somehow my last few days have been drowned in identifying the innate women tendencies in manly men. When I say tendencies, I only mean the inner thoughts - like motherhood.

I have noticed feminism in many men, and have seen them explicitly portray it. It is sadly been seen today as a cross over their attitudes, and men are labelled "soft", if not gay. We have some inhibitions in our head, that needs to be desperately broken. It should be found okay to have a guy mother a baby. I am not talking about changing diapers or dropping them off in school. I am talking about staying with his spouse when she delivers, not due to medical compulsions but due to a inner pull that makes him want to see the child. I am not talking about giving roses on valentine day or buying a teddy bear. It is about holding the ladle when she cannot. Oh, I am not giving a lecture on modern men who share household duties. I am telling about not making it a duty, but making it a way of life.

A very childish thought: When it is okay to have a manly woman ( the one who can work night shifts and earn - technically, manly stuff) , why is it not okay to have a womanly man ( the one who will sew my button when my little one rushes to school)?

I was put to thoughts when my sister recently delivered a girl child, and her husband was asked to be out of the room when she fed the baby for the first time. Why is motherhood restricted to women? Because only she can hold the womb, or because men are not competent?

Small Hearts. Smaller People

I fail to understand the insensitivity and lack of understanding some have when we speak of broken homes and divorced parents. It is cruel to happen in one's life and unless experienced, there is no way one can imagine the fear of waking up very morning and worrying if mom and dad will fight today. It is even more traumatising to live under the same roof with a person who you wish you had never met. All this one side, the pressure of our society to compulsively live together, and the cries of the hearts to live a better life make everyday a evil occurence.

Recently heard of a guy who is a pass out of a premier institution, comes from a well educated high class family who was trying to see a beautiful, once again well educated blah blah girl. He later came to know her parents were divorced, and stopped talking to her. To him, she comes from a "improper" family.

With marriages falling apart, and people getting more individualistic than ever - values are to be inulcated not only on religions, castes and sects but on people, minds and love.

To the guy who did this - Get a girl from a proper family and live a proper life. Dont even think of growing up. Rot to hell.

And then...er...Super

Sometimes we are so stuck on some words, that it has to be used in all possible sentences. I wonder if I lack vocabulary or my mind reaches that "stuck" spot. Whatever it is, it is not very helpful. My recent obsession or lack of knowledge came when I was glued to the word "super".

A: How are you?
Me : I am super. You?

I guess that's pretty different compared to the mundane fine!

A: How is the whether?
Me: It is super. Rains today..Yaay!

Not bad too...

Mom: How was lunch?
Me: S...u...pp...ee.rr..I was super hungry then and it vanished!

Now, double usage!

Friend stuck at Germany with no Indian food: Hey,I am at this Indian resturant, where a roti costs Rs. 400!
Me: Super!
FSAG: Err..??

Weird me!

On a call with a client

Client: We have recently moved on to the XYZ market as we see it is more recession proof than ZYX where we previously lost close to a xxx dollars.
Me: Super, How would you say this move is likely to align the XYZ market scenario?

Embrassed!

Gosh, I only wish I can take a sabbitical from using such words, and build up on a more respectable english sense. And no, I am not the kinds who lacks usage of words as well. Wonder how it began, and Worried when it wil end!

Impressed

at how Chennai Traffic Police work.

31/07/09

Driving back from office on a friday evening can be one of the best feelings and speedometers fail to see amber lights. I am pretty much a cautious driver for I have driven for over 5 years without a driving license. Now, being without a license invokes a sense of responsibility and fear - both make me drive well. CIT Nagar Signal @Saidapet. It was amber as I passed through, and I decided to cross the singal. Half way down, it turned red. I decided to move on, lest the police uncle there stops me. He did spot me, and told me to stop. I did not, and just sped through.

Murmuring under my breath - Month end and these men sniff it!
********
26/08/09

I receive a notice from Chennai Traffic Police asking me to pay a fine of Rs. 50 within 7 working days for voilating the signal on 31/07/09 at 19:20 hrs. I am astonished, shoked and impressed.
I am sure most of us have similar incidents, and it is not in us or rather in me to stop and pay there, and I wonder since when has TN Police started to send such notices.

I would be walking into a police station and paying the fee tomorrow. Happily.

And I met a guy!

I am inspired to talk about crushing after reading SP's rants. Me and my stints with guys have been absolutely uneventful, atleast till about a year. And crushing and just looking always sent wrong signals from me. I have been staying off the "sighting" scene for quite sometime now, but as girls would have it - that is when you see this handsome hunk!

My aunt has come down for a family function. She wanted to buy a blazer for my uncle and it was pretty important that she gets it in a day. So, I trotted along with her to Rex Fashions to get one done. We were there for about a hour, selected a particular piece and asked for a colour. He told the stock is only available at the Mylapore branch and that he will get it by 7.30. And he called promptly at 7pm and told me to pick it up.

I was in a loose fitting, printed, purple shirt and matched (!) it with a white pyjama with floral prints all over it. ( These details may not make sense to a guy, but it would to a girl after she reads the following lines). I was plainly lazy, as always to change into something more decent. So off I went ( this time with my 19 year old brother) to pick up the blazer.

As I walked in, I noticed the crowd was much higher than it was in the afternoon. Saw my reflection on a mirror and felt I look like the sweeper there. Nevertheless, wanted to get away from the place ASAP and asked for the blazer. Saw that the buttons had a foot ball team prints on it, and had to give it back to be fixed. As I turned off the section, I saw Him through the corner of my eyes.

Tall. Smartness Personified. Glasses, the kind that show a guy more handsome. A gray casual shirt. A slight dimple in his left cheek. And a absolutely high air of confidence. Was with his dad looking through formal wear.

Two mins pass by. Our guy disappears. Comes back in like twenty seconds. A light blue shirt with a black pant, he walks out of the trial room. Lifts his hand up, and shows a thumbs down sign. His dimples fall slightly, and his hair is now lightly messed. His dad waves back and shows a thumbs up sign. I wonder how his voice is.

Then he comes straight near me, stands for a good three minutes looking at a mirror. Axe Summer, I guess. I want my purple shirt to change into something more decent. And no words on the pyjamas, I want Mother Earth to swallow me now. I need m My brother now is looking a CSK shirt, and calls me to see how good (bad) it looks. I had to walk off, leaving the .......... alone.

The blazer is back. I walk down to the payment counter, pay the bill and walk out. I would have slept happily if it ended here. But as fate and my life would have it, we had to hear his voice that day.

A, Remember me? This is what he had to say. I was ... ( Forget it, I cant express it). And his voice was deep, manly and quite husky in the end. A huge ? on my face, and he helps. "Adi. Shankara School, Nature club". I am now lost, in my own world. And then, the worst had to happen. My brother jumps between us, and they do something like a high five, and Adi says - "Dad, this is B, my class mate at Shankara". Period.

Quite a lot of questions....some answers

Why do guys who are younger than me, look older to me? Early blossomers.

Why do such things tempt you in life? Sins.

Did Adi know about it? No. Unless he reads this blog.

Is this true? Yes, very much. I still cant forget that "just out of the trial room" thumbs down.

Am I sane, okay to be having this crush? I dont know, tell me!

:-(

Food "Item"

My family has a super strong heritage for tasty cooking. I would literally pawn anything at all I own (!) for my paati's milagu kuzhambu ( The literal english translation is Grandmom's Pepper Gravy. It does not convey the same meaning). I had to dine out for lunch over the weekend, and was looking forward to dive into my paati's kuzhumbu for dinner. Had plain rice with this gravy and when asked how it tastes, I could just say one word - Mallika Sherawat! HOT!

This is funny!

I never watched the show. But found the whole concept vague and well business planned. Now days, I am beginning to hate every soul that speaks on Indian culture!

http://www.ndtv.com/news/india/rakhis_swayamvar_creates_awareness_about_indian_culture.php

One day...

I say.........

I will grow basil in my backyard.

I will feed a kitten with my hands

I will sell gulabjamuns for $$$$

I will plan a gourmet meal at a lake resort

I will run a marathon

I will shop for atleast a lakh rupees

She says.....

I will wear slippers to school.

I will write with a full pencil

I will buy a new matching shirt.

I will order and eat at a hotel

I will give chocolates to K on my birthday.

My one days never needs to arrive. Hers is pretty important to come soon. Inspired from a short conversation with a friend who smiles at me at Venkatnarayana Road signal.

Fret not, we despise sensitivity.

We are not sensitive. We hurt people at the drop of a hat and we continue to walk as though breeze just went by. We are the most barbaric, crudest, insensitive group of people I have ever heard of. We do not ask a sorry when we know it is a mistake. We take pride in saying we are not sensitive and disguise it in the name of stubbornness.We only know to debate and discuss at length about personal lives of people - be it celebrities, the to -be celebrities, the friends, non-friends, ex-friends etc. We do not know what it means to say I care when we say that. We are We are not sensitive.

I shall tell my child - Dear, be insensitive. Next time a aunty scolds you for stomping over her garden, tell your friends about it and share a laugh. Do not, even by mistake feel bad for it. It is not in us to do so. When your teacher tells you she is upset with the way your class behaves, mutter under your breath that she is a idiot. If possible, comment on her raging pink lipstick to your friend. It is in us to do so.Just do not be sensitive.

This world shall continue to spin, people shall continue to live, marry and reproduce. It will not change if I am sensitive or not. No one shall feel even a tad bad when they discuss a personal anecdote or realise what it means to stamp on a person's words. No one shall ever live life to its fullest, and shall assume that living can be equated to eating,sleeping, partying and loving( of course without sensitivity). And the world shall go on. Insensitively.

On Opinions, Crimes and People

I read this on a fellow blog -

"Opinions are like assholes- everyone has one"! These are my opinions. They don't matter much because they do not bring any change. People live as ever - spitting, throwing garbage, cheating, bribing, but leading a moral life - not smoking, not eating meat, not visiting a prostitute.

Summarises all that I ever wanted to say about how people react, take, approach, understand what is called as living with happiness. Opinions are meant to differ, and so are approaches. It is time we understood it and reacted normally to everything. There is no fun in the screach or in the hush talk about anything at all. What is told below is one such opinion, and you are welcome to share yours.

People live as ever decriminalising the most important actions, and criminlising the pettiest of them - the degree in my opinion. If visiting a prostitute is a crime, then I believe feeling a woman in a bus is also one. If eating meat is a crime ( in some restricted so called upper castes) then wearing leather is also one. I fail to understand the hypocracy involved in most of our actions.

Smoking to me is not a crime. It does not harm anyone (there is no victim) except self. One can debate on passive smoking, but I decide to walk out of the place and I believe almost everyone can do so. Smoking is as good as suicide and it is a personal choice. You, Me or the Nation's Law has no say on it. All that they can say is to not do it in public, which is absolutely welcomed. We become so hypothetical and judgemental about smoking, drinking that we seem to forget basic mistakes like spitting and ogling at people.

I can say this from a past perspective. Prior to two years, I had a perception that all those who drink and smoke are bad. As simple and straighfoward as that. But, I never opened my mouth wide at it, neither criminalised them - but I hated it and never wanted a person who does it next to me. I still do not want. But as I met people around and actually spoke to some of them about it, I realised that I am no person to pronounce it as bad. And no, it cannot be used for a judgemental purpose. One who smokes need not be looked upon as a rapist. Same is the case with drinking. When it comes to forcing or coercion of anything at all, which includes smoking - then it is absolutely illegal. In simpler words - I am Me. I have my own wishes, interests which may include homosexuality and smoking, and I shall remain me. I do not force you to be me, neither do I spread the greatness of Me. However, if you decide to follow me, then I am not responsible for it.

Maya!

To the sanity in me, this seems insane. To the insanity in me, this seems absurdity. But to the self in me, this seems so true.

I often dream of a mother at a hospital, all in white talking to her baby in a cradle. It is a girl child. I dont know where I got this vision, but this sight keeps me troubled. I dont dream during the nights. These are visions that occur during times when the physical body is awake and the mental self is in a journey inward. The mother - She is beautiful and has lines of worry all around her face. The mother, longer hair, stronger frame, but is faintly familar. A face that I get to see only twice a day in the mirror. She is in a conversation with herself. I have faintly tried to record this conversation today.

She opened her petal eyes. Her breaths were small, leveled and measured. The upheavals on her tummy, my palms on it and the vibration of her breath that reverberates all over me - I could not believe it is going to be her last few moments here. She is so tiny, so beautiful and so delicate. She was my dream for months. I had swallowed strips of pills thinking of her minute fingers that my nutrients shall run into. I have followed every advice I heard – sat through long nights when I was unable to turn sideways, and had him hold me to the sides. There she is – all ready to leave me forever. Her feet rose in color and slender in structure. Her hair, curly and dark seemed to be tangled in its own misery. Her face – speckles, Her fingers, long like mine and red with blood. My brain wondered why all that blood could not run to her small thumping heart. My daughter – 3 days old is on her death bed, her cradle. I have cried enough for her, bearing her in my womb for 3 months knowing her end is in her third day.

Enough of trails and tribulations, Enough of prayers and priests and Enough of machines and tubes – Just let my baby go. She needs to get back to her home, and feel safe. I cant bear to see the pain that she endures every time someone speaks about her death. I am unable to stand that I have not yet named her, and yet find her as mine. I need you back darling. Come back safe Maya.

I dont know where I picked it up from. But I hope blogging about this releases this in me. I only hope I have enough strenth to face whatever comes through.

This blog is meant to be purely reflective to myself. Like a mirror.

Eating Out...and Feeling Empty...

A self confessed and a obsessed foodie that I am, I love dining out. My home makes some of the best foods I have ever had, but still a local dine out option is never a no from me. Thankfully, my systems are pretty reselient and my tastes are varied - I never have a problem in eating anywhere as long as it is hygenic and tasty. I dont know if what I read is true about the recession curbing eating out habits, but it is true that I dont like to spend much on a dining. Call it being conservative, but to me 5 star hotels dont appeal a tad more than a good meal with lovely company. At the star hotels, I prefer those with quaint surroundings ( Above Sea Level, Park ) types to the noidy clatter at Dakshin and Mainstreet.

Last evening, 8 adults and 4 children - family and friends went for a dinner to Dakshin. We had kuzhi paniyarams, vazhapazham dosais, idiyappams,set dosais and parottas with delicious kuzhumbus and masalas. The food was yum. Desseert was Elaneer icecream for me :-). Loved it. Yet, yet - It is not worth Rs. 12500 at all.

I feel guilty. For spending so much money on one meal. It is saddening, and I feel so very small when I think of it. Possibly, the happiness of the meal should have satiated my guilt, but it does not do so. It only makes me feel more selfish.

At a time when I am trying to evolve and do someting meaningful than just live and fade, such experiences draw out the colour and make me look so faded and forlorn in the sphere of the globe.

It ain't to be looked down!

This post is on how sometimes, people are looked down upon due to their professions. Sad to say, in an era when we are fighting for equal rights for LGBT’s, there still lays inequality in the crudest form amongst the most educated and polished strata of the society. There is no equality in respect or being, and unfortunately it is all discriminated on education and job!

It is often that we hear people talking low of a job. I am particularly referring only to white collared jobs here. There needs to be a sense of acceptance amongst the elite ones (which sometimes includes the most learned) that there is no reason for him/her to rejoice for being there. If I pass out of a B-School with a amazing pay packaged and job, and my peer decides to stay in the BPO and become a TL there, I have absolutely no business to look down at him/her. If I am here today, it is because of a lot of reasons – my interest, my brains, my parent’s money, the B-school’s efforts and of course luck. I am a firm believer of luck, all said and done. And if my peer is a TL in a BPO, it is his life, his choice and his reason. I have no rights to feel I am better, or more so to feel he is anyway worse than me.

In Sanskrit, there is a phrase which says – “Vidyaa Vinayena Shobhate.” It means education should be combined with humility. It is imporant to do this, because there is no pride in having degrees and not being grown up as a person.

I had to make this point for quite some time now, just that now the time came right.

Repeattt!!

Like thalaivar says - Repeat,and the line goes again! Thats how I feel when I hear this song Genda Phool - Amazing number!

Drink of Colours - A Sherbet experience at Kumbakonam

As mentioned in my earlier post, here is the add on to it! This is also from the same trip. We visited a temple town called as Thirucherai, where the presiding deity is Saranatha Perumal with his consort Saranayaki. This was excerpts from my small tete-a-tete with the sherbet seller there!

Meet Mr. Vasu from Thirucherai

This frail looking young (!) man has been making mocktails at Thirucherai for only 40 years now. Have a look at his colourful conoctions!

Whenever I travel South, I try and whip up as much as I can of these tasty drinks. The different varieties are mostly Nannari Sherbet, Rose Sherbet, Lassi, Neer More, Chilli More, Paneeer Soda, Masala Soda! Vasu's shop sells only the sherbets and more varieties. I always bring back a bottle of Nannari or Rose from Kumbakonam, and treasure it with drinking only a glass a day. I dont offer this to guests as well. It is highly probable that I am not a big fan of aerated drinks, and prefer the natural ones because I have travelled and drunk some of the most tastiest conoctions ever made in this country!

I seem to have a tongue for drinks. Whenever the new name of a drink, preferably made my human hands is announced - I end up drinking it. I dont have water at hotels, but the drinks that I have even in the most obscure places seem to have caused no harm to me. And no, my systems are not the stong bear-it-all types.

Getting back to Vasu, he has 3 children. His youngest son is in college, and the first two daughters have been married off to Chidambaram and Nagapattinam. He is the sole earning member, and all the money that went to the books, jewels and all that jazz was earned by making these delicious drinks! He had his shop at the Thirucherai bus stop, which was removed due to a political party's demand and then he had to station it opposite to the temple.

This trip was in April. Thanks to the heat and the kathiri veyil, we ended up having 7 glasses ( 4 of sherbet and 3 neermore -we were 4 people). He charged us Rs. 35 totally. I dont know what kind of a calculation that was, but it was just that!

Recently, in June I visited Madurai - Alagar Koil. Sad, but there a paneer soda costs Rs. 10 and I was offered colour soda ( read as Pepsi) at most places I asked for Soda. My dear old Soda is slowly dying. I wish one of these MNC's take it up and revive the tasty drink. It wont be all that tough and many like me would have the pride of sharing the taste with their kids!

Sickening when....

Colleagues walk around disillusioned, acting as though they don't even see you.

People walk around whispering plastic toxins about you - and hell, you know it!

Girls get very girly and guys get very guyeey. Sorry about the bad english

When people speak/write/read/hear bad english. That contradicts, yet, it is me.

When people don't accept ( read, not agree) contradictions and stick on to their own absolutely narrow ideas.

Same stories are spoken everyday. "i hate her - she did this - he looks like - i am going to" - grr, stop the shit!

When conclusions are drawn from a minute's acquaintance

I am beginning to use this blog as a cyber dustbin! 

Misty Dew and Munnar

Chilling breeze
Cardamom air
Piping Hot Chai
Rained Grass
Long Roads
Clean Breath
Gushing Waters
Foggy Sun
Lovely Hosts
Aromatic Streets
Hairpin Bends

And I want to buy a house there, to sit on a porch with my kid and count stars.

Of all the other wonderful stuff, I loved, loved the homestay where we lived for three days. Aranyaka is owned and run by the gorgeous Poornima Arun and they have the most amazing in-house chef. Let everything else go, I fall for the puttu and kadala curry, any day. (sorry, we were gluttons and gobbled breakfast - so no pic!)

The super enthu me, in front of our home  - sigh, only three days! 

 The super wonderful hosts who managed to get a cake for my bro! Poornima got it all the way from Cochin, talk about customer service!

Yes my dearos, thats hot dinner served some 5000 feet above sea level. Piping hot. Picked from the resort. Pardon the dirty table, okay?

By the way, amma asked the cook there for the gorgeous rasam served and got the recipe. We still fondly call it the Munaar Rasam :)

P.S : Post updated in 2012 to link Aranyaka. They are a huge RESORT now! WOW!

Serial Lighted Gods - Meet the artist at Kumbakonam

I am so fond of people, as I am of places. I can be a professional people watcher, but am sure no one would bother to pay a penny for it so I limit my musings to people who I come across.Guess, it is a skill passed on by generations, that I end up having a mini interview with every single person - more so if I find them interesting and doing the not-so ordinary things. On my recent trip to the land of temples - Kumbakonam and Trichy, I managed to meet so many lovely people. It is always a pleasure to know about the kind of life we do not lead, and we probably will never lead.

Meet Mari - The Man Who Brightens Siva and Jayalalitha

Mari is from Nagapattinam. He is 70 years old and has never been to school. His family art and business has been making these giant illuminated God's and Goddesses. He gives the deepam that glows amdist crowded roads.He makes the Mariamman who stands tall in the neighbourhood koil. Ironically, he is also behind the Jayalalaitha who drives the chariot. For those who have not seen these huge illuminated displays, this is how it looks like.

Now to the analytics of this business - it costs him INR 12,000 to do a display along with lighting for one figure. This is bound to increase when he does like the one in picture. To be honest, I never really thought this would involve so much money! Anyways, pardon my ignorance!. It is done using bamboo sticks that are soaked in water for 24 hours and then wound together using wires, vazhai naaru ( banana fibre) and then wired with small bulbs. He mostly does it on contracts for the local sound suppliers. Now, thats the word for the guys who rent out audio facilities, shamiana and other such jil jaal for local events. The rent ranges between INR 5000 - INR 15000 for a night. Now, that's a lot of business!

Mari is the last surviving member in the family who knows this art. His children are employed in service sector and one is working with TCS. Impressive to know! Mari has come all the way from Nagapattinam to Kumbakonam for doing this Mariamman, because there is no one else in the vicinity who can do it. You never know, he may possibly be the only one in the state who does it. I met him at Ramaswamy Temple ( the place is taken on rent to do it, because it requires a huge spread of space) during my recent trip to Kumbakonam

It is wonderful, impressive and at the same time surprising when I come across a person like him who is not willing to let go of his tradition and art even at the ripe old age of 60. Kudos to people like this!

Let go!

It is the easiest thing to do! Just to let go. This is what people tell you to do when you crib. It is a lot easier to do it when you know you can do it. But to me, most times - I just cannot let go. Or rather, I was not able to let go. And that's where BSP came into picture. For those who don't know what BSP is, it is expanded as Bhava Spandana Program and sadly, am not component enough to tell more about it. You can read on it here. It is a program that explores the interior in a person, and takes all trash that has been there for years and kind of makes one puke it all out and return back with a superior power and sense of accomplishment. Reading the last sentence now, does not seem to convey a fragment of what I felt then. Nevertheless, that is the closest I could come to.

Although Bhava Spandana did wonders and sent me out as a "day" old baby, the old big world out here is polluted and I do get dirty quite often. I get so filthy from head to toe that I don't even know where to go to search for water. I become one of those fighting pieces of plastic on a mass drain. And sadly, I am one who desperately wants to be flushed out, unlike plastic that just settles.

I just wish I had the power to Let Go of everything that disturbs me. Penned down some rambling lines, when I was thinking of this

Give me the power
To survive against fear
To fight with pride
And not fall through a slide


Give me the power
To realize all dreams
To dream with conviction
And be marooned in imagination

Give me the power
To talk as I wish to Him
To not give up on self
And rise to glory myself

Give me the power
To retain faith on you
To cross tides with it
And handle all with your wit

Give me the power
To remove all lens I use
To see the world that way it is
And handle it all in bliss

Give me the power
To be born every moment
To forgo thoughts and memories
And Let Go all sober memoirs
May make sense to me - and to you, when you feel like me!

Come, let us be friends.

With all due respect, I despise the ship that holds friends and would never be able to row it well. There has not been a single moment in my small life when friends have made a massive difference that makes me call them as saviours. Or probably, I don't call people who make such differences as just friends. They mean more to me. Guardian Angels.Special Souls. Mom.

To me, friendship is a emotion. It is like agony, hatred,gratitude,hope and fear. It is not a state of being like happiness, sadness, tranquility and love. There is a vast difference between a emotion and a state of being. Unfortunately, people tend to get mis leaded and get caught in gamut of thoughts. I don't see how one can feel friendship towards another without even meeting the person!

Friendship in SMS - Friendship on Orkut, FB and on every other place! Guess, I am the most unfriendly soul around - but, please excuse me, I cant be all that sweet and say oohh and aaahh when you paint your nails green!

To me, it is a emotion - a sense of belonging, a euphoria of joy and more than anything else - a feeling of just being there! That's how my right handful of friends are ( Yeah, I don't have more than 4 friends in my life, forget the best, good category) The rest don't just stay as the lot - they move on to become the real souls to be with!

How is friendship to you? 

When my blood soared........

Blood Boils!

This post is on anger. It was penned at a time when my red cells got better off the white and I decided to unleash the devil within. It is to say that my blood boils when I think of such things. More so voraciously ebbs when it happens to me. I was recently stomped over by a group of over fifteen men. Sounds fantastic and unbelievable? Read on.

It was a boring weekday. I was in early for the day and I was reading through my daily mails, blog, social networking sites etc. I happened to see this post on a popular community. A guy had asked for a partner to go to a movie with. Honestly ask me, I don’t find anything wrong in this. There is a guy, who wants to go to a movie with someone. And I noticed people had responded back asking if he was trying to get a date! I was dumb – level headed and optimistic when I wrote back – Why not? We can go to a movie! And that’s when I realized that Bal Thackeray has his virtual counterparts! (I am absolutely not political. No Offences).

What followed was a stream of responses from varied souls strolling across. People told I was wrong. People told I am searching for a guy. People told I lack culture. People told my husband (read in future) was unlucky. People told, well, very admirably and cowardly that I am like a call girl. People told they feel dirty to be on that community.

And I, the poor little girl who believed with her leveled head that it was fine to go to a movie cried. Yes, I wept. I had tears because I was offended. I had tears because people were hitting the core of my moral values. And like a proper cultural girl – I wept. That is what we are all supposed to do, right? And I did just that. Not for 1 but for about 20 minutes. And then I shook myself out of the world, and asked one fair question to the poor little girl in me – “Am I Wrong?” Simple, but fair! And I answered in negative. So I posted back.

I screamed I have got my own morals. I warned them to stop policing. I pleaded them to examine their hearts. I cried my hands out on the keyboard. And like all those cows that chew on fodder – they continued to munch. And I continued. That’s when my gray cells started ticking. And I wrote back asking if one girl going out with a guy is a problem – then why can’t we organize a meet? I thought it was fair. I thought we were still strangers who could meet one day. I thought it was all fine.

Then I realized I was wrong. When one of those lurking guys asked openly on a forum – “Where will Ms.X (censored) in the movie hall amongst 20 guys?” Close to 15 so called men, the so called race of strength, thought and power responded speculating about me. The minute I read that, was when blood boiled. A Tsunami of Emotions. A Plethora of Thoughts. A Time When Blood Shrivels And Still Boils. A Fit of Rage. And then I Exploded.

The poor little girl suddenly got into a sense of complete admiration of self. I could not get myself to imagine how ruthless men are. It is at such moments the feminist in me blooms and gets out. I feel like trashing (read as to be put in trash) the entire gender. I feel like slapping that lurker and take away whatever may be called as manliness in all of them. And I am in all admiration of self.

Then people started pouring in with their responses. Some argued for me. Some wanted to applaud the effort taken to protect culture. I was aghast. I ask – What is the name of culture and community, when a girl cannot talk to a guy? Is this what we are all giving to our generations? Are we going to tell our children that everyone is wicked and mean? I fail to understand, and I regret the state of our being.

I have some questions unanswered. What are we doing here? Building a society where we lose human values of plain understanding and well being, and uphold traditions? So, such a girl is deemed not cultural enough, and not good enough, or in their terms – “not worthy enough for a marriage”? If it is so – then so be it. I would rather be a good, wonderful living being than be tied down to a male chauvinist who thinks his wife was created just to satiate his physical and emotional needs. To all those men out there, who even for a fraction of a second – think, thought or will think they can suppress a lady and can make her emulate their ideologies – Here it is a Brick Bat! And yes – To all those men, who are not one among them – Be Glad. It is not AIDS, not Cancer that kills- but it is this attitude! Be Glad you don’t have the disease.

Getting back to my post, the fight went on until the guy who created the post, decided to vanish. He went away, probably out of guilt (Let me assume it that way). It was like news for everyone. My profile had over for 2000 plus visits. One of those gentle me(a)n created a fake profile and decided to be my PRO to garner these visits. The whole exercise took over 2 days. I have a lot of souls to thank for. The one who first rose his voice against. The one who continuously fought for the cause ( not for me). The one who quietly decided to create a fake profile for me ( Wow! I appreciate that. Look at our state – even to support, we have a need to fake). The one who still talks with me with loads of gusto. The couple of good GUY friends I made. And finally – after a month – I received a white flag for peace. No prizes for guessing who it was! It was the one person who wanted to wave a flag. Thanks Pal! Bouquets and Brickbats Awaited!

(Names not provided in order to make sure no one feels offended, guilty or even slightly upset on seeing it. I believe my words are more than enough to do that and more. Does anyone miss the names? )

Random Musings - First Time

Archit( 4 years) crosses the road without help. He looks left-right-left everytime and seems to do it like crossing a river. I still dont do it.

Beaches look good even on TV. Saw a serial shot on the light house top.

When will the kid on nandanam signal colour Dora?

Satvika( 2 years) does not cry if her amma is not around.She only cries to her mother. I dont know why.

People on road dont look up when a flight zooms closer to ground. And they look at me in awe instead, when I tilt my head up.

Why are phones on loud mode at work? Why cant they put it on vibrate and keep it right in front of the monitor, if they are musically working?

Tea is a addiction. Even seeing it is. I love watching the way it boils to an aroma on the stove.

Orion Belt is so scintillating amongst the skies. Worried why 11 year old Ajitesh does not know anything about it.

Any fom of chocolate is evil. Even watchin it on PW.com makes me linger for a bite.

My lotus lip balm smells of strawberry. It is supossed to be Velvetty Rose.

Fab India skirts are mass crowd pullers. Everyone saw the girl during break today.

Bad eyebrows make people look older. I look 28 today. Feels like 29.

......will muse on.......

P.S : If you wish to, pick this as a tag on a work filled day to ease out some tension.

Belief - To Live

Belief – The single magical word that irons out the creases of the muffled and worn out life. With innumerable instances in this crooked life of ours to point out, and times when just a single belief has straightens things out. Like raindrops that platter across the window before forming a puddle, there are drops and specks of beliefs that form a puddle of emotions in us. Like a stone forming ripples, it creates a plethora of rapid successive emotions, positive, energetic and flowing with the so called life. This belief pulls you away from drudgery, challenges you to think different and forces you to stand up for a fight. It mobilizes your inner senses and gives you a match stick to bleakly light your way. And, with that bleak luminosity you will find your track back to reach where you were. It is not a support system that helps you to find your identity, rather it is a caring hand that jus shows you where you need to be and says why you need not be where you are. This belief is not a heavenly one, neither is a blessing. It is a heartfelt wish, an emotional push to the heart that so badly disbelieves in life. I have had this belief in my life work wonders on me. Most times, when I have so badly wanted to let go or call it quits, I realize it is a momentary decision and invariably, this belief pops up to show its head. Still, the disbelief and drudgery that fills my heart is so strong, that I refuse to acknowledge this ray. I still want to cling on to misery, feel miserable, cry and then dry up to wet myself with tears again. As much as we want to stop feeling bad, it is the most comfortable to feel that way and the best thing to do then is to feel pathetic and hurt. In times like this, when you feel like pulling your hair apart, and detest your reflection – practice yourself to think of the belief that you strongly put your heart and soul in. It may not be a comfortable and an easy option, but it is the only one that can being you back to what you should be and not leave you in a sense of despair. Build on a single, strong belief in life. And, nurture it with all positive energy you know of. This shall guide you during times you lose the candle of faith. It shall pull you back to your laid path and not let you roam endlessly in worlds of thoughts. It will teach you to live a life, and not just exist it. To some, this belief may be God. To some, it may be a divine person or a guru. And, to some others it may be a belief on someone. To me, it is a soul that wants me smiling as well always. Times when my tears choke my speech, the belief that there is soul somewhere breathing, hoping you are smiling this instant and hoping you are not choking this manner – puts me back on track. Makes me feel on top of my world. Teaches me to smile at every instant. Takes me on a dream journey every time I fall. Pushes me down sometimes, but is always a person to whom I can go and tell – you pushed me down, and now please pull me up. And believe me, this person will actually smile, say I am not sorry – but I love you and pull you up. That’s what life needs. A fight, a tear, a smile and a bigger expression of love through a smile!!

Thank You!

With waves lapping at my feet, breeze tearing apart my locks, sands playing around my toes I was immersed in whiffing at the seaside air when I noticed a crab drifting away from the waves to the dunes nearby. Minutes later, I saw the wave move towards the crab's dune. The crab seemed to be in a conversation with the wave. Constantly lapping, and caressing each other. Seemed so beautiful. So Complete. And that set me thinking....What follows is a train of thoughts that took over me. Since then, I became two personalities - One thinking. Another Observing the Thinking One.

As much as i am proud, I am afraid of thinking of you, or talking to you much now days. Probably, it is because you have grown so much, that I am finding it difficult to address you easily. For the kind of knowledge, ability you possess, you ought to be living a better life. If this is what you feel, try and find who does not look at a better life. Everyone in the world wants a better life. A better job, a better salary, a better phone, a better wallet, a better house. These are all the "better's" we address in life. There are some other the not addressed better's. Lets look at some of them now. A better life partner, A better mother, A better family, A better self, A better life with a better society. These become some of the better's that you do not really voice out. Here I take the time to address them all, call them all, and to tell them all - that I needed a better in these aspects of life. A better way of living -by acknowledging the self. Thank You.


Life has shown me some beautiful pathways, quite rugged and rocky, but certainly smooth enough to protect my feet. Else, in places where it could not protect my feet, it gave me slippers to walk on, or pointed towards a softer moss to step up on. To show my gratitude, to say a heartfelt thanks to you, to make sure you reach the bottom of the heart and pull a strand of muscle from there, that stretches itself in gratitude to this life, that has made you what you are today, that has shown you to be what you are. Here I take the time to thank that life, that has made me walk safe amidst all slush and dirt.A safe journey, with enough bruises, that would heal in a day. Thank you.

My being so far, has been mostly good, and partly not so good. There are so many out there, whose beings have been partly so good, and mostly bad. I look upon all of them as teachers, as seniors in life - who have experienced something that I have not, and I probably would never do so. Let me take the time to think of one of them today, recall the life's lesson I learn there, and the trial that senior faced, that i would not or did not face yet. Let me dedicate a minute to that misery that passed that soul and the ripples it caused. Most importantly, let me make a constant and enduring effort to realize the way the system of life jumped back to normalcy and created harmony. Here I take the time to reach out to the past, to embrace it and to look at it as a memory. A friend's milestone to walk back to, sit for a while and dust and walk from on. Thank you.

When my being came into existence, I had no worries to carry. No baggage's to hold, except the tiny frail body and lots of dreams - unmeasurable, but priceless. As much as I grew aged, The force that was sent within to pursue never let a wrinkle pass by. It evolved into what it could, took what it should and became a sense of being within. That invisible source was never called for, never told to go through any course of education because all the while it never deviated from its path of serving me. Here I take the time to salute that spirit within, the powerful, mighty ray that runs through me and has made me to what i should be today. Thank You.

The list of such thankful notes shall extend till my being knows to think. To think, to reason, to analyse and to take decisions, to cry, to laugh, to feel, to smile, to hug, to kiss, to express, to be able to make love, give affection, show care, feel compassion - and above all, to live and not exist - there is a last person to thank a person. My Self. To that wonderful and passionate creature that finds happiness, joy and shares peace, looks at mistakes with the eye of a baby and immediately gets up and smiles at it . To that creation of Almighty - Thank you.

In the life of a Prostitute

After I decided to blog back, I have been thinking on what I should possibly right. A lot many things have happened in the recent few months, that am finding it hard to begin with. I was recently a part of the International Film Festival, organised by InKo Centre at Satyam Cinemas.

It was a visual treat and a platter offered for thought. Most films revolved around women and portrayed, what can be called as bold indulgence of thoughts. They were subtle, strong and splendid in their own might.

To mention in particular, there was a film titled - "In the Flesh" directed by Bishakha Datta. This 53 minute feature film speaks about prostitutes and their lives. Since knowledge, for reasons unknown and unexplored, the life of a prostitute has always fascinated me.

The endurance she carries herself with, the embodiment of her complete womanhood and the plight of her daily wages - everything about her has always been a matter of awe to me. I have always read their stories, wanted to know how their life would be inside those dingy rooms and red lipsticks.It may be because of this, that I sought to watch many movies that have spoken about it.( Some I could remember - Appu, Laaga Chuneri Mein Daag, Kanavu Mei Pada Vendum,Sringaram,Arengtram etc). With the same sense of amazement, i watched this film.

In the Flesh is a movie with a difference. It makes you travel with them. You see them forcing men to use condoms. You see them coax and sweet talk. You see them spread handkerchiefs and entertain clients. You see them speak with that aura of confidence over gender issues. You see a lady buy wine and dance around with her girl friends. You see a 60 year old, tie a bunch of keys to her saree pallu and wade of men who try to misbehave with her. You see the reality of pathetic their life is and how they still manage to smile and make merry. You see a enuch stand up and say I am a prostitute, and I like being this way.

And you dont forget the lady who says she does social service by being a prostitute. This film is a real realistic film. It shows you how difficult life can be. It shows you how insignificant we are in this sphere. It instills in me a new found respect for this clan of women who we have long neglected and long forgotten.

They have always been the epitome of what I can proudly call as feminism, in my sense. The sense in which there is no second thoughts of truly being a woman. A sense in which life is made a breeze although tornadoes continue to slash. A sense in which all said and done, slept and gone - you tend to respect the woman in her. Salutes to all those ladies out there, who have dared to do things no one else can and continue to do so.

P.S - This post, in no means is trying to promote prostitution or degrade culture. It is a clear expression of my feelings, after being through certain thought processes. All those who feel I am not "cultural" enough, please stay different. After all, opinions are meant to differ.

I am gonna be back

My last post was sometime in July. Although there are very few friends who read this blog, I am planing to keep it updated henceforth. There are about 5 - 6 posts in my drafts, and I will be posting them one after the another from today. I hope to maintain this time, with no interruptions. Lets see how far it goes.

To a more regular 2010!