Desi Midget, yea that's me.

I didn’t realise I was a short one until I turned 24. Until I moved out of home and lived with people who were gracious enough to point it out to me. Don’t imagine me as kid – I am not. I am around the same height as Mila Kunis (ya, that’s how I want you to think) but really I am not how it looks on her.

I mean, some people know to carry anything with elegance; clearly it’s not one of my gifts. I can’t carry a tote with elegance, damn it.

Being a short girl is easy. It wasn't an issue until articles like these started making rounds. I don’t have any of those advantages. My shoe sizes are on par with tall ones. No one finds excuses to touch me unnecessarily and gets away with it. Irrespective of one’s height, if a human becomes a hippo – it shows. This brings me to think who writes articles like these. I mean, they should conduct a survey of sorts among short ones. May be, even categorise as really short ones, just –right-short ones because the problems really vary. The short Indian woman is not exactly petite – she is just vertically challenged, many times horizontally well endowed.

Anyway, I thought I will make a list of the advantages of being a short person. A real list with no out of world stuff, like shopping in kids section!

 Leg Room – This is the BIGGEST advantage I can think of. I travel on budget airlines mostly and crib if       there isn’t any leg room (wrong, I know). Seeing 6 feet men struggle with limited spaces is fun.

We don't bend – I have never bent my head to pass under low ceilings, branches, temple doors etc. 

Can sleep anywhere – My feet have never hung over a bed, ever.

Always 'young' – Ok, this is an unfair advantage. Humans tend to associate height with growing up, so for some reason I am always mistaken to be younger than I actually am. Personally, I think I look just about right but hey, no complaining on this.

Cooking is an adventure – In this house, most of my groceries are on overhead shelves. I climb up on the counter almost every day. This is exactly how it looks! Ya, laugh aloud.

I can think of one disadvantage – tall girls look better in a sari. I look like a misplaced midget wearing a sari.

To Hell, with The Good Indian Girl.

I was all of 22 when this question first arose. We had gone out to a nearby trek as a group and I chose to sit with a guy in a bus journey, who I was neither dating nor had any intentions to. Of course, he was not my brother or anyway related. Over the next two days, we spent time doing stuff together – waiting on each other at unknown bus stops, filling water bottles for each other, sharing one vegetarian dish over lunch ( cause we were the only two loners), being on one team in antakshari. He was also my personal photographer. The trip got over, and two days later I realized I had just stooped to an all time low from the good Indian girl I was.

Someone from the group assumed (rather stupidly) that I was trying hard for him and created an online photo album full of pictures of me and him.  Most of them were falsely cropped and edited as we did not take too many pictures together. This album was shared, rather secretly amongst the group until the guy in question saw them. He went berserk with rage and screamed choicest abuses. Of course we chilled it over with some good ice tea.

The good Indian girl does not have conversations with seemingly nice men and call herself friendly. She usually hangs out with the equally demented girls and is given wry and naughty eye stares, giggles and not mention flat, senseless comments when she does break the norm. She will call herself independent and will cross waters for a much rated elite education, however she will still be “at least hesitant” to go alone with a guy for a movie. It is to be understood that going to the movie is perfectly acceptable if initial hesitance is shown in melodramatic doses. A girl who refuses to be hesitant is usually labeled “loose” and more intensely called slut.

Her usual comments on love and relationship are heavily influenced from puke sweet doses of movies and any non-adherence to the usual map calls for a scrutiny on fidelity. If a couple break up, the anatomy of her relationship style is heavily examined. Not to mention, every one of her previous 9345 boyfriends become instantly lucky and the future 9346’s goat is a martyr. The first time I heard an account from a friend about how her roommate ditched her boyfriend (she was in a seriously depressing con called love) and got herself a “local guy”, I had doubts if the report was on a hooker. Oh no, if you call me exaggerated, I request you to email me for the whole story.

The rather demure girl has all her aspirations, dreams, hopes on a perfect wedding with her boyfriend (of course, only sluts or “impotent women” break up). Anyone like yours truly who has no ideas on her wedding is promptly ignored. I cannot remember the number of uninvited conversations I have been a part of, and the amount of vague confusion every conversation has led me into.  It is even more annoying when the said girl has interests in photography, design, sarees, mehendi, men ( in that order). All this pressure makes it harder to do simple stuff like listen to Adele without being questioned.

If I had to assume all this drama ends with the grand finale of a marriage, I cannot be more gullible. It almost continues all thorough her life with questions, wry glances, broken giggles, clandestine conversations, gossip filled pizza nights and transcends from the just graduate, to the new bride until it reaches the recent widow. And here, I am talking only about the peer group of women. They are mostly equally educated, equally fat with bank balances, and mostly of the same age. I am not taking the aunties who sit back home to gossip ( who, IMHO are more soft with thoughts/words), and I am not taking one whole half of the world into my observation.

This may be a rant to few but any woman who has nodded her head through knows what I am talking about. It is that unspoken worm, the creepy devil in every Indian woman’s head. That devil , which the society garlands and celebrates womanhood. To hell, with it. To hell, with the good indian girl. I am plainly sick of you.

Old Post Alert: Castes - When did we fall apart?

I had a fairly secular childhood with no strong infulences of any caste, no discrimination at all. My amma had friends of every imaginable sect, and we as a practice never spoke of others personal habits in a derogatory manner. Amma never kept food away from any house. It was not a habit to not eat food from "other caste" houses. I still love Anne aunty's avials and Shymala Aunt's nendrampazham halwas.

Once again, with no special purpose - my schooling and primary college education happened in a hindu institution, and yes it was brahminical. I did have CCA classes singing Vatapi Ganapathim, and wore pattu pavadais, ate sundals during navarathri. My school had a opening day ( the first day school repoens after summer holidays)homam, and I loved sitting there, with my eyes closed fervently praying to Ganapathi, and asking blessings from all the others there. Half of my school life went on knowing when amavasyas occured, and on why guys had avani avittam off. At the home front, I was told Ramayana, Mahabharatha and we watched Krishna on DD every sunday. Thatha was a expert story teller. He knew the art of weaving Draupadi's vasthra abhaharnam ( yes, i learnt sanskrit too) , meaning - taking the vasthram(cloth, essentially meaning saree), off( abhaharnam) with the case of how every woman is stripped off dignity in modern today. He spoke on Ramunajar, the Alwars, the story behind them, took me to temples and spoke on the sthala varalaru ( the legend of the place) and made me read shlokas( divine verses) almost every day. When Thatha went to the USA, Amma took over his place, and it was a habit to prayfrom 6:00PM to 6:10 PM everyday till I finished schooling.

As much as the previous paragraph speaks on my idealistic, religous woven, and of course casteistic childhood, it never came to me that way! It was not meant to. i have invited quite a few Nancy's and Nazarina's home, who and hear to Mahabharathams and eat my amma made rasams. They never felt they were at one of those brahmins homes, and we never felt it was a Nancy eating off my plate. Knowing Draupadi was not to worship Krishna in my family. It was to realise that as a woman, I need not respect my husband (s) always. She never called any of the 5 warriors to rescue her. Somehow, my childhood never had any traces of a caste, iyers, iyengars, christians, and the much derogatory term of non-brahmins. I dont recollect the usage of the work at all during my growing up years.

College happened to be at one of those elite, vaishnav funded institutes, where by all means - there is no influence of any caste, except getting only vegeterian food in canteen and having te words in the college's name, neither of which can influence me in any strong manner.

With all that there, I am now wondering where it all begin. I am trying to recollect when the question of my caste started becoming a part of my identity. Was it when I started talking about amma's samayal, and that i dont eat meat? Or, was it when I said non-veg, and unconciously discrimnated a friend of mine, or was it the day i spoke at length about the rituals and traditions in a marriage, once again absolutely unconciously bringing in a notice of - "Enga edhula..."( edhula refers to my caste). When did all this begin?

As a person, I highly respect any religion, caste and creed. A lot of others around me do so too. There has not been a single incident in my life where we have been made felt in any superior, or given any special priveleges for being a brahmin. We have not formed websites, ( other than for religious purposes) to promote our community. We do not convert people, or show any resistance to others practicing their schools of thought. Nor have we muttered a word when the madisar was shown as a sexy attire, or when mamis were made to be the modern sex symbols. We also kept quite mum to all those rants of being called a thayir sadham.Infact,some like me still do not mind being called one,though my lunch box has never carried it in the last 1 year.

I am sure almost all of us have seen such instances around, but either we decided to vent it out with the virtual world, taking sides and supporting our faiths- being true brahmins or otherwise, as the case may be. We have started taking sides now, with almost everything.

When I found too many people speaking the same thing in different ways, I thought it is high time I say what I have to. This is a retort,not for a caste that rules the blood, but for the head that is now sensible enough to think. It is high time we listened to music as just swaras together, and saw movies appreciating the art, if there is any. A secular nature of mind is so important to report to a Laura at Florida, get the assistance of Mudassir at work place and still remain a Ranganayaki.

If not to protect your identity, atleast to carry what ammas and thathas wanted to - A sense of blissful understanding, with no differences in caste, creed and sect and using only two possible reasoning skills in making relationships - The Heart and the Head - not the blood!


P.S : This post was originally published in 2009 after a heavy debate with a colleague on castes, the supremacy of Tambrahms etc. I happened to read a series of blog posts today on how conservative the caste is, and somewhere this struck a chord. Today, I find this post half amateurish, and the rest mad. Yet, the point was to remain secular. Let me add agnostic to it now. It is still a surprise how I became one.

Those baby steps

Circa early 90’s - It was utter chaos in our household. The first born is going to her first day school. The dad was polishing shoes and the mom was checking her snack box for the fifth time. She has never been away from her kid for more than fifteen minutes. However, the kid seems absorbed in her gaze of shiny books and slowly dangles her feet for the dad to fasten shoes.

They walk on the small lane to primary school. The way is filled with doubts – did I manage to get the right shade for her pinafore, why is her hair still messy, did I keep a spoon along. She talks on how to use her hand towel, to finish the lunch fully, to not talk during a class, to smile often, to keep eyes closed during prayers. The kid refuses to participate and keeps making stories from what she sees around. Her answers are standard.  I-know-it-all look and an only-three-teeth smile.

7.45 am, this morning – It is a sunny morning as she sat down with her tea. I am still asleep and a familiar voice shakes me out from slumber. Precisely, it has been two years and fourteen days from the last day I had to wake up by this alarm to work. A still sleepy I walk out to see her sipping tea and reading a book. A hug and some clean up later, we chat with a mug of tea and she listens patiently to my never ending dose of instructions. 

I keep reminding her to keep the door locked, to take keys when she goes for a walk, to remember and use the favorites on chrome, to not sit and scrub every window until it is clean. I also ask the same questions for the last 72 hours – if she wants me to subscribe to Indian channels, if she knows how to use the bathroom showers, if there is enough of this and that in the pantry, if she knows the nearest bus routes. Her answers are standard. I-am-your-mom look with I-can-manage smile.

I am too young to comment on bigger stuff but if there is something beautiful about being a daughter, it is watching your mom use YouTube at ease and send a what’sapp message to ask if I reached office on time. I am pleasantly surprised to see this circle of feelings, care giving and roles. Talking about taking baby steps, I think it will always be me. 

The mom is here, and I am in delirious joy. 

Bring on the good talk, please!

How good are you at taking a genuine compliment?

Rather, how often have you heard a genuine compliment?

For one, I suck at taking it graciously and another, I hear is very rarely too. Recently when a group of us met for dinner, a friend casually mentioned my style of making potato curry is what appeals him the most. He went on to share the list of horrible potatoes he has had and compared the best ones with my version. I should have preened and smiled but all I did was to keep negating him. This was how my mind worked.

My Mind  : What is the big deal with a potato curry? I mean, it is not like making French macroons with fancy fillings or wait, like making swissrolls.

My alter-arch : (yup, she lives within me and makes uncanny appearances): Damn, this point only proves I am more domesticated now.  Sigh!

My original fairy self: Oh God, I am feeling uncomfortable now.

To those who think he did go overboard – no, he did not. He was very plain and mentioned it in the utmost friendly manner. Why, why do I have to sigh at a compliment?

I have never really received too many compliments in the looks department. And in all honesty, I have not been too bothered. It is like no girl who visits a library has the time to manicure nails. She probably believes in sitting by a bench and daydreaming. At least I did. And then, I got hit by the new wave of girls who look awesome all day. Now, it is not just important that I make devilish potato curry and read Steele ( who, btw is not my favorite), I also have to look decadent and nice.

I did. I fell in love with Bodyshop and made friends carry shikakai powder and generally became more pleasant looking. Months later, a compliment came by. A co-worker generally commented on how beautiful my hair is. Even writing beautiful and my hair in one sentence seems like a joke to me. But yea, she really did. I knew she meant it.

My Mind : Yup, this my dear is your crowning glory moment (quite literally)

My alter-arch: Wait, did she not see the dandruff? Or, is she being sarcastic?!

My original fairy self: Oh God, I am feeling weird but nice.

I am slowly but effectively becoming the girl who has shiny hair, manicured nails and still visits a library. Yaay, to me!

On a semi honest note, most people rarely know how to graciously accept a compliment. Most preen over it and go on to talk about how perfect they are ( or their potato curry is) and the rest act arrogant. I will be very surprised if you have not met such folks in your life. The loveliest way to accept a compliment is a smile. Only if asked, give details on the shikakai.

On an extremely honest note, I think we suck at giving compliments. (esp women).You know why. 

P.S : The author can’t do much if the general tone of this article is not acceptable to you. In fact, she is not even bothered.

P.P.S : Let  me know if you want shikakai podi from Chennai. I know someone who makes it too well. Okay, back to playing mum.

To Molest or Not

Recent news made me learn a new word. I thought it was called just feeling it up. I also thought it was foreplay. The media now screams molestation.

It was 9.30 PM. I saw her then. She was standing near a footpath and talking over phone. Her shrug had just moved away revealing a bit of her neckline. She was young, dainty and wearing strapless. I was in heat. I walked past her. She looked tired and easy. I walked behind her and groped her back. She screamed out loud and ran off. Ha, the pleasure of seeing a girl run walk away. Unparalleled.

It was 9.30 PM. I saw her then. She was waiting for a bus. I knew her bus route and walked close to her. She was on a call and slightly looked up to see me. Her shrug slipped and I saw her strapless dress. I was in heat. I walked past her. She looked inviting. I walked behind her and groped her back. She held my hand and screamed loud. I ran away after pushing her off the road. Ha, the pleasure of seeing a girl scream for help. Unparalleled.

It was 9.30 PM. I saw her then. She was standing in a bus.  She looked up at me and saw my eyes. I did not like it. I glanced at her chest. She looked back at my eyes.  This time, with furious anger. Her shrug slipped and she glanced at me when I saw her strapless dress. I was in heat. I walked past her. She seemed bold. I walked behind her and groped her back. She held my hand and kicked my knees. I fell down flat.

Ha, the power of anger. She exclaimed.

It is no rarity to be stared, touched, and groped. It takes pepper sprays, safety pins and lots of anger to hit back. It takes boldness to talk about it and scream. It takes conditioning to know it is not okay and it not acceptable to be touched by someone.I strongly believe anger and boldness is the strongest weapon a woman should possess.

The Nut Case

Your and You're OR Said and Told OR There,Their and They're are very different words. They are related because it is the same language. And, that is about it.

I wont judge you. You will just lose me as a facebook friend if you continue to scribble garbage. That is it.

On why kids are not so cute.

rather..parents are not so cute!

Of all other things, India trips mean having to deal with noise. I am not acting posh here, but it has been a long time I heard constant noise at home. My room back home is like a four year old’s play pen. It is scattered with dangerous pointed toys ( beyblade, lego blocks ) and the bed looks like a Barbie doll dressed in pink. That cute and horrid.

I am no good with kids and have never had a single kid smile and play with me. There is a mutual dislike and a “we are good 200m away from each other” attitude. My family – dad, mom and the brother are the extreme (as it has to be). They are like the kid friendly meals in Komalas. With smiley shaped sauce and all. My brother can spend hours with a three year old watching random captain planet shows and my dad can lift and play with any, any child. He terrorizes some by asking random calculations, but that is fun. Mom is a class apart. She donates my stuff to them and makes badam cakes for them. She can also listen patiently about parenting woes and offer free advice on potty training.

I can watch Tom and Jerry, provided I get the bean bag, the remote and a plate of muruku. No sharing, please.

I was casually mentioning this to a friend, when she pounced on my lack of compassion and love for kids.  No big offence, but I really do not understand how we should find these cute, sweet and lovely.

·        A four year old’s mom is super proud about how her daughter spells her name perfectly.  My mom was equally pleased and made the kid spell is twice.  The kid’s mom also swears on some vitamin tablet crap for all this goodness.

What I say: Grow up and buy yourself a tape recorder. Keep playing it all day. Don’t stress the poor thing.  The same goes for making her repeat 1 to 50. It is not funny singing ABCD too.

·        So, M kutty is six years and walks to school (which is exactly 107 steps from apartment) by herself.  Her mom decides to give her Glucon-D only for the sun will suck all her water away.  And this brat will only have it cold. So her mom has to prepare and refrigerate it, because ice cubes are bad for the baby.

What I say: Agreed, big deal. I needed help to board an auto when I was six. But, please stop making her feel like PT Usha. Anyways, 30 kilos is obese for that age.

·        B Boy is now 2 years old. His parents are throwing a race car themed party. They have really cute looking red velvet cupcakes with fondant icing. They had costumes for kids and had hired motorcars for the kids who played bumping cars with arthiritis ridden thathas.

What I say: Seriously, what is with these wealthy parents? Why is your social status and confidence sitting inside that F1 costume party? Also, do not blame him if he asks for an I pad and decides a sleep over party for  1^st standard pass ceremony.

Before you totally declare me as a non-compassionate, insensitive jerk – this is what I do with kids. The only sane way to live there is to give myself the pleasure of conversations with semi-grown four year olds. That is, if I am stuck with them. Read on and you will know why we have the 200m thing.

·        I made the spelling bee champion listen to Amar Chitra Katha and made her spell Duryodhana thrice.  When I did this, I held her hands and made sure she cannot run away. In my defense, I gave her three M&M candies after she did it. I could have also made her spell the D’ king’s name but her mom took her back to feed her some memory pill nonsense.

·        M Kutty was made to drink plain water and play in the terrace with me. That is, she plays climbing up and down the stairs on her own.  I wrote numbers with chalk piece on the stairs, so she should do addition- subtraction math when she is on it. I supervise her and read a book.  And, for some entertainment – I was even playing Endhiran songs.  I am not that bad, na.

·        I wont attend any car party . What sense did it make for his mom to come home with just two cupcakes?  I did make him rattle names of all those cars and make the vrooooomm sound. ( I also shared the vroommm induction motor joke to his dad, who works with Ford and wished B to become a mechanical engineer)

My logic is simple. I can have conversations, treat them like young ones and be very good. I cannot make them feel extra special, load their egos and act like they are Adam and Eve’s kutty. They are not. The world is so full of children and so many people are busy making some more. Why don’t you just understand that and be normal towards them? Gah to all you folks who find them awww..ssoo..cute!

A Very Important Note – All babies, semi grown-ups and moms addressed in this post are real and not fictional. Any resemblances to second floor kamini’s kid surya or to ground floor vidya’s kid arya are absolutely planned. Just those, none of them live in my apartment. 

This post has been selected by Blog Adda as a Tangy Tuesday Pick!

Thank you, Blog Adda!

An Obsession for Torture

Hello Plate, please mind your own business! 

For a few days now, I have been noticing these traits in people around me. Every single person insists on being tortured to wits end. I am no freaking all time positive soul but this trait bothers me. It is all the more annoying when I notice women are hell bent on making life miserable for others. Yes, you heard it right. That streak of feminism in me is not going to thrive if I continue seeing this range of women.

One of my weekday things to do is to treat myself. These treats are my own way of saying” goodbye” to mid week worries and acting like a heroine from a chick lit movie. Yea, I actually choose a place I would really find good couches one time, good brownies the other time, awesome menu the next time etc.  Once in a while, it is not even a dessert but a spicy craving; but yea – I mentally call it a sweet thing to do.  Last Wednesday, I ordered a chocolate cinnamon roll when a twenty something (just like me ) crossed over to the yoghurt stall next door. Just as I was walking out with my roll, she loudly remarks “Ah! I can never eat a sweet chocolate thing after work! It is such a crime to feed to sugar, after hours of sitting in one place.  Yoghurt has so much goodness”.

May be it was just coincidental but she could clearly see I was around and from my disheveled looks; it is easy to guess where I am from. I find this appalling. I just gave her a dirty look, bit into my roll and walked off in a huff.

What is with women to act like roaming diet freaks, when their own hips are oversized! If you do not believe me and think I am over reacting, try ordering a Chocó lava cake for you with a group of girls. One is bound to either say something nasty, or refuse eating with a look of “how the hell can you do this” or give violent body moves to justify she has never liked chocolate.

One more absolutely disgusting incident is at the health/pharmacy stores like Health & Glow, Watsons etc. Every time I walk by a person who is promoting a product, I am slowly hushed with a madam, madam tone. Now, I respect women who manage to look dressed, stand all day to sell a box of deep sea pearl glitter. Almost always, she starts with the ooh’s and aah’s of her product and mid way, points to my face. Yes, I had acne and some scars remain. It is not exactly cancerous and does not cause earthquakes. So, I live with them.

For the first few times someone did this to me at Chennai, I politely walked away. My anger exploded so hard one day that I screamed at non-stop at a store for over 5 minutes. After that incident, I have refused to step into any of these god damn stores. I will buy my face wash at Food World!

Things like this happen at Singapore too. I simply ignore and give my dirty look. Oh, did I tell you about this one lady who was hell bent on making me buy her aloe vera- red chilli – sea salt scrub to scrub away my inches? Holy Crap!

We women love to torture our counterparts. This is just a simple incident but in reality – we are always measuring up a girl around us.  If I hold a degree in engineering, I will comment openly on why it is the best course to take to a girl who did commerce. I will do this, even if all my engineering knowledge is today wrapped in software coding. If I have a fabulous body or if I am working out now and then, I will make sure I comment on every single girl who does not bother to work out. If I have a boyfriend or getting hitched, I will make sure my single friend knows she is living a dead life. What you folks do not realize is that the rest already know how it is. Everyone has their own head to figure out things and will do it when they wish to.  Until then, you learn to keep your mouth shut and let them eat the cake.

I am very sorry to break your bubble, but men DO NOT do this business. They are too held up on their gaming/porn/movies world – which is by the way fabulous and easy to figure out.

Image Source: cupcakesandcashmere.com via Audrey on Pinterest

25 and counting..

As you grow and traverse through various paths in years, you expect to grow in many ways, to see people and learn or unlearn, to make some mistakes ( or many) and either learn from it or ignore it

As I turn 25, I am plainly surprised at the like minded characters I have met so far. By no means, I am trying to put them into buckets as each are one unique gem in its own worth. But, the similarity is striking and fascinating. So many tunes and shades – yet they are all being the same.

In this world I live in today, every single thing works on a business possibility.People have a value life and once their value is over, they are no longer used.They are not exactly thrown away too. They become friends on Facebook, thekinds you do not bother to "like" even if they own a Booker Prize.

I can count with one hand the number of sensible, generous and smart ( I tell you, this is a very rare combination ) I have met baring the usualsuspects of family. And to that, I add the ones with personality, spunk and attitude – it is not even a legible number to write down. The illusions we get on people and emotions as children are plainly illegible to survive in this big bad world.

Love - Oh, love is the most highly traded commodity. It merely moves from one place to another with eye glances, unspoken words and crappy internet romantic lines. It means convenience, comfort, a cushy wallet, a stable job and some basic looks. There is hardly any courage in acceptance, dignity in behaviour in most relationships. Add to it, the moral policing nazis - who take it as their birth right to comment on every single relationship change you go through. It is not exactly happy, or even appealing to one's own heart.

It is only a matter of how well you can make things happen with each other. If you succeed in making life simple, then it works. Else, it does not.

Friendship – The F word in my own dictionary. I mean, it is SO hugely abused and I will plainly walk straight with love for this story. If love says highly traded, this is the combination that gives the most pennies. A profit in getting a cup of coffee, to a free ride for a few years in others lives. And after Facebook made its way, the word merely means “anyone you see for 120 seconds or sees you for 180 seconds”. Italso means, you allow that person to access your life – past, present and future and all that you will mostly get back is a tag. Or may be, may be a like.

If you disagree with it and are lucky enough to still continue and exist in 2012 with a handful of friends, you are lucky.Lottery winning types. Even Casino types.

Parents/Relatives – Merely a visiting card to grow on. I am sick of the number of "kids" who used an uncle or a dad to get a internship, a job and a admission. It is probably remorse that I do not have high profile relatives to itch me a favor but in all honesty, people like me are glad we do not have them. It is one thing to have contacts and get information and act smartly. It is an entirely different thing to get guidance and fall back as a pillow.

I should write an entire post on the parents bit. It has irked at people like me for such a long time, and I hardly see any noise made about it. I am no judge to pass my statements and make an entire world go by it. At the same time, I am no soul to simply ride on opportunities and live with my own world in my head we well. I refuse to be that way. For, still there lies a world where such things matter. It still does.

This post by no means was written in a bad mood, or a wrong day. It is a mere culmination of how things are around every one of us. I just decided to call a spade as one.

I realize this is not the first time I feel this way; Here is another post on a similar note.

Foodie..er..whats the name!

                                     

                                                                        Source: thejunkhouse.blogspot.com via Brie on Pinterest

This post has been picked up for BlogAdda's Spicy Saturday Picks. Whatte surprise!



At one point of time in my life, I was declared to be on dangerously low weight. Though it was not for long, I have had serious eating problems as a child. Always raised a demur against food, I was not exactly amma’s favourite activity.

The early years were not very exciting too, as for more than ten years – my family never ordered anything specifically for me. Thus was my tryst with food, ordering and eating out. The last four years have been a pleasant reversal, though. A lot of my friends know I love food – both to cook and to eat. It surprises so many when I say, that I cook! Interestingly, no one really expects a single 24 year old to be able to cook different things, and hate instant noodles.

What is particularly funny is how the exact same people have already determined I should be married by now. If I have no ability to fetch myself a decent, healthy meal, how exactly should I do/handle a marriage? Yea, I do know many women get married without an idea of cooking  and that cooking is not exactly organic chemistry. But, the determination baffles me. Totally.

As always, I digress. This post is not on my take on cooking/marriage but on how this change over has made life different today. I have certainly become a much responsible eater.  I was never really into making my own cup of tea before 2008, but yea – I was barely 22 then. What started as a learning curve, has become a way of exploring, experimenting and enjoying food. As a bonus, I have qualified to be called as a foodie!

Now, I have serious issues with this word. For one, it conjures the image of someone who hogs meals and searches for expensive options. For another, it is directly seen in relation with my waistline. I detest my own line there, but it is true. Promise.

The word foodie hardly represents what fellow people like me think about food. We are not eaters.  It is very hard to find a so called foodie who will eat anything on the plate. As a matter, most people are good cooks.  A few things, I have to say on being a foodie -

·        A foodie or whatever the person is called,  has a passionate interest on food and participates enthusiastically in the preparation and consumption of good food.  The act is not merely a means of survival ( as some chronic diet freaks do ) nor is an act of necessity ( as some really really busy people call it). 

·        We do eat out, at least I do – but love our food. It is savoured, tasted well and time/efforts are invested to find the best place, pay the best value and be mindful.

·        There is this charm about eating for pleasure. Biting into a pannacotta when the world is trying to stick to guts with roti- chawal, or wiping up a rasam-curry meal after a long day at 11pm when you may crash with maggi noodles. 

·        Then, there is this thing about exploring. We normally love to walk around food markets, click pictures, taste stuff, peep and see new cuisines being cooked, read memoirs, talk to people etc. And yes, IKEA is a great time pass place.

And yes, after we are done with our meal, we do go ahead with other things in life – like a full time job, or an intolerable kid or an almost there deadline (!). Like me. Like now. I have earlier written on food, places, philosophy with food ( I know ! ) etc. Click here to read/see/ogle at them!
         

Anonymity and things as such...

There is no real reason why anonymity is not glamorous. This post is not to quote how many people have roamed under the magical invisible cloak but on how so low standards our integrity has gone.

There are many reasons why this blog does not see regular posts and one of it is certainly the fear of being identified with the personal posts that go up here. I have had random ( really, random) people come and ask me about things I wrote. Now, I am not even a famous or a good one. Yet, this happens! And trust me, being a single girl in a lonely city comes with its own set of rules and issues. And one of it, is the trouble with how easily people use anonymity.

From crazy mails, to stupid comments and now - recently, a msg on FB, all has occured here. It is seriously sick, to see a message from a fake profile chiding a post I wrote more than a year back. The message went on to say, that my new haircut does not suit me. :(

And then there are anon people who seem to have an air over them. I do not understand what exactly is there to be proud about being unable to show an identity, esp on comments. It is an entirely different case with anonymous/partial anonymous bloggers. It is kind of sensible, esp if you are going to use a blog to vent out all kinds of emotions. I am not denying it is not exciting. A secret : I did try anonymity, and realized I was only pouring crazy mood swings down there. Then, I suspended the blog. Even now, I feel I should write down anonymously somewhere and store it for my own eyes.

It does cause me to worry, only a bit. Should just push it off, along with a million other things in my head now.

Hello, Newly Married Friend...

No major offence to anyone who is married. But I cant fathom the sciences behind your obsession to being aunty. And talking to me about marriage. Go away, all of you. The whole full stop you put when you are married pisses me off. Yes, it is that annoying. So what if marriage is the single most defining point in your life? It is not in mine. It will never be in mine, even if I get to marry the cho chweet sweetheart of my life. Live with your munchkin happily, but for sake of my swear words, do not bother naive (!) singles like me.

What is even worse is that you go around telling stories to people on why no one above the age of 24 should be single. Did you just forget that the day before your wedding, you came and stood like a fool about tying that saree? Damn, no one learns to master wearing the saree even for eons after marriage. I am yet to learn manage a duapatta. But at least, I do not sit like a doll when I dress up.

Have i told you how much fun it is to have own reading time? Or own walking time? Just because a truck load of girls have decided to hand over the remote control of their lives to their munchkins, it does not mean womanhood has lost powers of self existence.

Though, I have a bunch of best friends who are married and yet cool. Or, to be married and even cool about it. That is the way to live. This business of two bodies one heart is filmy. Get over it. It is filmy even for me.

Marriage is important, its fun and probably everyone (including me) will enjoy it.But to go one step ahead and act like it is the coolest thing to do at 24 is no joke. It is annoying to everyone, even to your families.

Grumpy post, bear with me. My vent blog :P

Day Three - The American/Indian Dream!

Day Three is an absolute blah day. I am lethargic and tired, and too mentally unstable to write on amazing videos, but simply cant miss this one.

The video on how India is exciting, and how opportunities and jobs are burgeoning in India is so wonderful to wake up to. I so really do not want to make this a serious post, and here are some absolute tit-for-tat things we can do for this situation! Some of these are inspired from a FB post. Check the video out - " Top American Graduates heading to India for Employment "

- Serve upmas only for breakfast. I am aghast at the idea of waking up to orange juice, so yes folks - time for some kaafeee.

- Teach Indian History in international schools. I can already hear the kids talk on Jalianwalla bagh, in that firangi accent.

- Have at least five different visas. Make people wait for it and issue only limited numbers.

- Create problems for people who want to bring spouses. Tell them to show the wedding photo, the ring, the gown, have testaments from three non-related guests and also submit copies of certificates.

- India can have PR Ration Cards. This is a real WOW. I mean, how awesome it would be to have two people fight for a pink cover, or a yellow cover.

- Say it is ZED. And not ZEE

- Have talk shows on the great American Brain Drain!

This post could be slightly over the board, but honestly I am personally feeling elated at this turn around of situations. As Narayana Murthy aptly points out in the video - people will flock and congregate wherever there are economic opportunities, irrespective of power outages, monsoons and screaming dogs. Hey, you guys do have spoilt teens and horrible lifestyles!

It is time to let go of certain dreams, to look for places unexplored and set foot. I have all due respects for the millions of Indians who have set foot bravely outside and created a global identity, but this trend means a pay off for such efforts.

Friendaship

In the history books of 2030, a line will go like this.

Between the years of 1995 and 2010, there were a lot of women bloggers who wrote on topics like sensitivity, food, arbitness, world,men and their awesomeness( or sometimes, the lack of it) and on over all randomness.  A common problem faced by most women of this genre were "frieanship" requests from people all over the solar system. Most women received anonymous comments on their looks, and some brave(!) souls mailed them asking for making some friendship.

Yes, and I am living it now. I have received requests of making some friendship with me from people i did not even know existed. It is okay to have cyber friends, do virtual arattais and vaarify legs. But the heights of desperation in this attempt leaves me in giggles.

These people kind of scout of all information on the writer. A blogger friend receives mails in green colour fonts( nah, pachai pachai'ya illa) because she mentioned in some 1987 post that she liked green!

Damn. May malaria filled mosquitoes teach you to comment and not mail bloggers.

Glossary

arattai means a chat. Mostly accompanied with masala tea.
vaarify literally means to comb, but here you can say pull down ( with a comb ?)
pachai'ya pachai ya - This is tough. Pachai means green. And Green talk means blue films, yellow magazines.

On semi-gods and women

The recent sex scandal has risen drastic views on how semi-gods and their sexual fantasies. It is not a new state of affairs at TN and certainly, not a new niche to add a yesteryear actress to it. There are quite a few thoughts of mine on this issue.

The emergence of gods in men is not a recent phenomena. The commercialisation, the advent of adding yoga-meditation to it is. The funding oriented working model or the beggar bowl syndrome has been there for long, but the orientation of a business model is new. There is nothing to clinch at this evolution, because with income tax exemptions and high-end MD's looking for spiritual solace, this seems to be the most natural dimension.

What really went off tangent when sexual scandals were exposed - The media.

If it is naturally natural for such saints to indulge in sex, and have kollywood heroines to be mates, then it is perfectly natural for their believers to be okay with it. I am not a believer in any of these god turned men, but I firmly believe in human calls.

There are some aspects of trade that should not be commercialised - education and spirutuality . In today's society, the one in which I am spending my 20's both are exploited. Commercialising has a ethic of delivering quality or quantity, but exploitation is mere money trade.

And it is more than money trade - it becomes emotional atyaachar when worship happens. I am so proud, yes that is the word of the kind of uprising I have had for not being able to follow a man without a question. I fail to understand/make any efforts to understand the worship of men as Gods ( i do understand, when a guru pooja happens). Criticism against a belief is criminal to say the least, so it is best to refrain from it. There are many videos on specific god-men on youtube. I shall not post them here, as I have a lot of good friends who have a belief, and I shall hate to destroy it.

Back to Farming.

This post is written on absolute anger, disgust and a part disappointment. Though it is a vent post, it is also meant to break certain ideas/myths we have on education.

I was never interested in this ploughing business, and that is not something I want my kids to emalute too. I am talking to a gang of guys who work with on of those swanky financial services office. They are mostly the deadly combination of a B.E and a MBA ( Finance) with half a dozen year expereince in the IT biggies. Sounds classy?

I have a few questions – why does he do a B.E when he wants to financial modelling for a career? Why not a B.Com? Is it because it is less cool to do it, or because he was undecided then? Well, whatever it is – I leave the case because more than not, people don’t really know what they want to do at 17.And I was one of the undecided creatures too, who started with civil services, dabbled with some advertising in my dreams, worked in finance and now to organisational management. But for the absurdity as it may seem, i am not trying to understand networks now( another issue, that I got no aptitude to do so)

If I leave that case, why did he land up in a MBA program after three years in tech? More importantly, why did he not continue with tech? Did he find tech no longer fascinating? Or, did he suddenly understand the importance of being a investment banker?

As it is so obvious, it is the money. With places like GLIM and ISB offering MBA’s for fancy amounts, and pressing on placements for almost the same value – it only gets better! A average ISB student starts thinking about his placements 8 months before he starts his application procedures. The guys who pay are absolutely pleased as well- who would not like to have a “brim filled finance ready to puke” guy at work?

I guess we are moving back to our basics – agriculture. Our kids are being fed, sowed with seeds to reap money later. Sowed seeds of science, some little manners and lots of money mindedness, manured with engineering, a dash of finance and of course a MBA degree. All set to reap lakhs, preferably in dollars and if possible millions!

P.S - The first draft of this post was saved on April 16, 2010. A time when I was working, and a time when my frustrations flew out of my finger nails. I am so damn better now, and I hope the next post is a more positive one!

Bird Tales - Sparrow and its Sorrow.

Anu wrote this and on seeing a comment from Deepak, I was pushed to write this post today.

In 3rd class when they teach us about ecosystems - they do not tell us that feeding sparrows is the way to keep the system in place. Lack of our education system, but I will deal with that in another post.

I googled on sparrows and their disappearance and it seems to be the most saddening fact I have ever come across in recent times. Sparrows, to many Indians are a part of childhood memories. It is a memory to think of grandparent's homes and sparrows hitching on trees. It is another to think of how the grocery store had sparrows lingering all around. When we shifted to AGS Colony, Velachery - one of the first things I fell in love with was to wake up to the sounds of birds. My apartment literally had birds chirping to its glory as a alarm clock. 6 years later, I dont find any even if I dutifully keep pots of water and sprinkle grains all over the garden.

Much has been attributed to its decline in India. Sparrow is a bio indicator. In short, it tells us how poorly we have managed our systems. Grocers no longer have gunny bags to store grains, so nothing seeps for birds to feast on. We no longer have trees, so there is no place for them to build nests. A recent article I read says, it takes about 7 hours to build a nest - that we shamelessly stomp off in minutes. On the 20th of March, Delhi started to celebrate World Sparrow Day. Sheila Dixit has commissioned nesting boxes all over the city ( Read more here ). It is another story that a fellow blogger says crows and ravens use these boxes.

England has risen to this issue, and has a detailed study on sparrows and their decline here . In chennai, one of the prime reasons for the disappearence is cellphone signals. More reasons to cut on our calls. Thanks to deepak, I have some gyaan to share now. Sparrow's feathers act as dielectric receptors. So ,when two cellphone beams intersect ( very common nowdays with the rise in towers we have in the city) sending the same signal wave at the same time, it creates a standing wave. When birds are flying, they tend to hit on this temporary standing wave, they become totally disoriented and start flying as a group to the ground.Their natural altimeter and sense of direction gets destroyed.

Quoting - According to Dr S. Vijayan, Director of the Salim Ali Centre for Ornithology andNatural History (SACON),“A number of studies has been conducted to find out the relationship between the increase in electromagnetic waves and the decrease in the number of sparrows. A positive correlation has been found between them.” “There have been studies in Spain
which showed that sparrows disappear from cities where electromagnetic contamination is very heavy,”Dr vijjayan added

Sparrows are found to rapidly disappearing from places where new towers are being installed. It is opined that these signals affect their central nervous system, thus paralyzing them to fly further. Most times, they fall down and die or become immobile. As I was writing this post, I began to wonder if it would make sense to cage them at home. I am not a advocate of caging birds, but looks like the sparrow could be saved this way. I am still unsure of the kind of radiations inside a home, or the way it is feasible.

What we can do is possibly reduce calls in the open, and follow some simple stuff like leaving water, feeding grains and if possible, keeping a wooden nest. To know more on this - read here.

I am a lot disturbed on this post. Not only because of the irresponsibility we do, or the kind of foot print we leave but on the posterity of the world around us.

..

His and Her - The Second Bit

I blogged this months back.When I wrote that, I was meaning only the aspect of how feminity is not let to be shown in men. I did not realise, that many men do not want to show the feminity.

Looking at Shiva as a Master came easily to me. With that thought process, this quote underwent even more torture in my grey cells. If the Masculine Master was half woman, what are the macho men we see around?

Nature has defined certain aspects as masculine and society has amplified the gory truths behind these definitions. If physical strength was masculine, beating up a woman was a crown. If endurance was masculine (physical), then holding on baseless belief systems (useless or otherwise) was allowed (Ego). It was not a case of one man creating a rule, but of the exaltation of an entire gender. This elevation has almost given, I repeat – almost given a semi-demi ruler blanket to men.

Women were glorified and made to rescind – to make some way. It is an easier option to call her Ganga, make her sit on a pedestal, dress her in ornaments and perform austerities. In a way, I believe women were made to be worshipped. All the literature that speaks on women as Gods ( I hate the usage of Gods to people, baring this instance) are means to keep Her away from the evolution process. When you glorify someone to an unimaginable extent, make her as a statue in time – she is not allowed to grow. In my opinion, that is what has happened in this country. As a nation, we have learnt to keep the woman within doors not in the pretext of dominating her but by playing a physiological phenomenon as glorification. If physical adoration restricted authority, the emotional bondage restricted fruition of the mind. It is to be noted, that mythology and literature speak on why this practice of “shielding” was followed – it also spoke on how relevant it was. We have moved far from this “shield”, yet we continue to take solace in its relevance. This is absurdity. When we have evolved in thought, acceptance and generations to allow women to do what she wants to - we simply have to move on from the old relevance of shutting her down emotionally and psychologically.

When nature showed her intrinsic capabilities of bestowing feminine characteristics in men, it confused us. Ascribing tendencies to a gender is not under the capacities of a human. It is a law, and it has to be obeyed. It riles me every single time I see a person being typecasted for the sake of being born into it. If we only learn to accept that a gender is not a mere classification, but denotes a sense of unification with the world – our lives are bound to be better.

When a man becomes a woman, it is beautiful. I have read a semi-autobiography of actor Prakash Raj and in that, he speaks on how lovely it is to experience motherhood. He writes on how he spent his college days reaching home late and on never being questioned on why he was late. There have been days when he has not returned home as well. On all those days, he says dinner was always kept for the son who may return home. It has taken him years to feel on how the mother has felt during those evenings. To her, it did not bother that her son was late. It did not bother if he ate. What bothered was her call as a mother, to keep food for him. I do not advocate this paradigm, but the most important part to read between the lines is her nature to do what she does best, irrespective of how the receiving end is.

As a generation, we have forgotten acceptance. It could be due to the constant fight of survival, or rather upliftment. In a non-natural, self imposed cycle – moving from a defined masculine tendency (earning, working, being the head of a family etc) to a once again, defined feminine tendency ( caring, nurturing, looking attractive) is derogatory. This is the vicious cycle this entire generation is flooded with. In the earlier times, there was no such movement because it was a set rule, a defined space to live. Today, we see a lot of acceptance and a lot of movement. Yet, it has to grow.

We need to realize that there is a law which regulates us, and it is not created by anyone here. It is natural, it was, is and shall be there. Understanding the basics of where we are from and agreeing to the growth is the fundamental step towards movement. It has to happen. Either the men and women of today shall learn to adapt it gracefully and live their lives to a satisfactory experience, or they let the change pass by and look back in awe at what the world has become when they kick the buckets.

Writing this post has been one of the best ever blogging experiences.

Kalyanam lingo

I am wondering from where the word "arranged" marriage came into usage. Are not all marriages arranged by people? And, why the word "love" marriage? Are not all marriages supossed to happen between people who are or have to be in love? I think using - "self choice" or "parents choice", "aunty's choice" or may be "matrimonial website aided" - but sick of the word - love and arranged!