What counts.

They were 7 of them. Now there are only 6. The one that grew up with us too had been struck by the thunder they said.  Madurai had thunder and lightning a month ago and that has clearly made the coconut trees go through hell as well. Many coconut trees had been struck in the neighborhood  and lost their lives too. A week after the strike, one could clearly see the coconuts withering off, leaves falling off and the trunk losing its strength.  Basically, it was dying a slow death. 25 years these have stood and as they shelter the swing under,  have heard a lot of secrets too!

At about 11 in the morning, the household helper’s son would typically come home in a cycle. He would walk straight into the house to check the count. Most of us at home only had 2 at a time. He would typically then take a walk around to identify the 10 coconuts from all the 7 of them. Then comes the part that both my bro and me would love watching- how Palanichamy climbed the trees. Wow, Sure footed as a mountain goat he was on the trunks that weren’t very broad in their making. Then when they were chipped off  from the tree, they fell with a thud. We would run to pick it and put it aside. It wasn’t easy seeing it too-the sun would glare and blind us.

 While he is up there he would make serious judgment of the medicines that he needed to buy in the local market. Something like a monthly doctor check up for a pregnant woman.  If her baby was big enough to be delivered! The nuts were tender enough to be consumed. He would call out the deficiencies from atop loudly for my mom and grandmom to hear it. Then he would come down and break it open for us. The sweetness of the water varied from tree to tree we said and atleast believed that the sweetness depended on the tree too! While the drink found its way down, we were ready for his axe to split the coconut to scoop out the tender pulp. Wow I loved it too! Patti held her coconut in one hand and the other in the hip and talked to Palanichamy about the further actions to be taken. The urea was a unique mixture too-not like the rest of the plants in the garden. She will then send him off with tips for this chore(that he loved doing. He too took the nut from the second tree like my bro and me as it was the sweetest). Finally, saying that these 7 of them must be taken utmost care as they stood for prosperity and were rooted, ever since the house was made! Now I can repeat that in Tamil without a sigh difference in her tone :)  This always made me feel that I belonged to an ancient place!

While my grandmom passed away a good 3 years ago, one of the coconut trees were struck by a very big lightning , had a slow ‘death’ and finally passed away recently. The group of men arranged to come over by Palanichamy assessed the old tree and declared it dead. It was a ceremony. They lit the camphor, prayed together, rang the bell to call the spirits and called us all to see it one last time. Finally, with a lot of climbing, axing and pulling with jute ropes the big fellow was brought down by the men. They cut him in 4 big pieces and then 3 wood merchants from the neighborhood came to assess the wood and declared 3 pieces were amazing furniture wood and took it for a great price. My mom wasn’t happy about it! She clearly mourned the big fellow going. I could tell from the way she didn’t negotiate the price at all. I chipped in to get a few more thousands from the deal and the rest of the day was about looking at our garden pictures that had him stand tall and handsome.

Lost his leaves after the lightning!

                                                  

The strong jute rope to bring him down.

A man up there to cut him off.

The ropes to pull.

The sun glares now too!

Then of course Palanichamy’s mother asked about the departed tree when she came to clean up in the evening, the milk man asked about it the next morning, the car cleaner who was Palanichamy’s friend told me the next morning while I was in the garden swing, with my coffee and Hindu, that Palanichamy feels very much about the loss and he will come home later to talk about it.

Palanichamy came and a round of talks happened that featured my bro, dad, grandmom and myself. But Me in bad light- guess why?! He told my mom with his tears filled in his eyes that he didn’t expect to see me negotiate with the wood merchant for a tree that was a child in this house. Now!! Come on!! At that moment my husband burst out laughing! Life and times!!Before I left home,  Palichamy atleast came three times and brought down more coconuts for all us. And everytime he left , I paid him more than normal to please him and get him over with his sorrow. No avail. He still had his share of the water and cycled back in a  pensive mood.

On the day I was leaving he handed in a jute bag of 10 copras to my daughter and smiled a big one at her. “Come in June and I will get you the sweetest coconut! Your mom always liked copras. You will like it too! Tell her to put it in the Karthigai porri!”.

Little things of life....

An older colleague married for 36 years , recently, chat us for a while. The ‘us’ is my best friend in school who is to be married soon and myself. The elderly colleague asked me ..”Ok is your man also an Engineer like mine?”To which I said “Yes!”She immediately asked me,” Insists on all cultural  and traditional stuff…for food and all?”. “Of course!”. “Is he the types to forget your anniversary but gets up in the morning to fix your toast and coffee before u leave to work?” Well I thought- how did she know that! Did she view things through a powerful telescope…the morning ritual of my husband fixing my toast and coffee! “Well! Yes. How do you know?” She smiled an all-knowing smile and then told us that such men are traditional stuck- in –the- mud but are a steady flame of affection and inspiration to do what we wanted to do at work and with kids …basically no worries la she finished in that note! She went on to add that she too lives with a man of similar spirit and that it’s the most blissful living a girl can ask for! Huh!

My metro travel roughly takes an hour of switching between the train and bus and finally getting home. I plugged my ipod as usual that day. Yes the song list has been updated in it…wow thanks mister I said to myself. Well of course I will have to listen to his favorites as well(Includes crap like Dire Straits, Abba, Pink Floyd, some songs from 7am arivu(bearable), more ghazals of Jagjit Singh). Never mind. Text him about remembering to get a mobile cover, menu for the day that I plan to cook and asking him some ideas about fixing our daughter’s Carnatic music tutor to complete the syllabus….well rest at home. When I swipe out I realize  a big chunk of 52.50$ sits on my EZ link. Wow !Saves me the trouble.  He has topped the card! I buy my veggies from the nearby shop and reach home only to find out that the rain had been anticipated and the windows had been shut ! Thank god else I will have a pool of water to clear out and sometimes may be swim for the amount of rain we have!

Light the evening lamp and await my girl to come home after her play. While I am cutting the veggies for the night and getting my dinner and next day’s lunch fixed, I speak about my girl’s day and then get her to have her routine. Meanwhile he calls me to say that he might be a couple of minutes late and we must simply just have dinner and close. When finally he is back,  he sees me cleaning up, he will serve his own food off the table and thats when I ‘release my spirits’. Tell him my troubles with the teacher fixing, why the veggie shop is so badly placed, why the lady’s finger has so many worms,  why its so easy to lose my way in the Orchard MRT, why he must have his night milk, why Dravid is a great batsman, why the plumber must be called , why dishwasher is a pain, why he must stop watching Super singer and listen more to meJ Phew quite a lot of jabber that he will listen sincerely without offering any judgement.  A stress buster session for me and a garbage- in session for him. When I think back it’s an absolutely steady gaze that keeps me on. Between this session he will ask me if I had the umbrella in my bag when it rained. And if I paid the swim trainer the exam fee for our girl , if my ankle twist is ok after changing the shoe and if I finally found my way in the MRT and if I read the latest on Cricinfo(he has to ask me this and I will see a smile if I said yes). Kind of a grand end to this mundane conversation. Do you know I read these tweets occasionally not for the article so much but to see that smile that expects nothing, but a moment of joy of sharing his interest with me!

Well for those of you who think this is a boring routine and a more boring conversation….thats what makes me realize that togetherness is not about doing wild things all the time, its about finding less topics to argue about, not hugely exciting but greatly cementing the walls of this companionship with things that make us good people, to share between the hectic routine that he helps me through, things that he does without us knowing because he wants us to be happy and comfortable. Things that make me  angry too…like an over investment and sometimes showing me the big share bill that he will explain with details that are indeed hairsplitting…but wait its a genuine concern for what awaits us tomorrow must be fathomed from today! Of course some more hairsplitting sessions of criticisms too that really have driven me nuts...but kind of tempered my spirits too!  Many many little things that worry his salt-pepper hair filled head when he goes to bed. There are silences shared when he just waits for me to tell him! This is what I figured out recently!!!! “Will wait till you tell me” kind of expression that only shows patience. I can’t describe this further…an expression that commands immense respect from me like none other!

There is never a big high or a big low, no great shakes about any heroine that I have to be J about, no rudeness or no messing, not  many boys day outs, no unpaid bills too! It’s a steady flame of care that he will always carry and at the end of the day he will say in his usual mellowed voice, “I said that so you won’t get hurt in the end but do as you wish. Now tell me when your holidays begin. Shall we plan something?” Its as matter-of-fact as that. Very subtle that you can miss it if you haven’t made up your mindJ And must admit he waits for that too! For my growing up in ways he thinks I still haven't understood the harsh world! Unfortunately, I have always till date gone back to him admitting he was right even in the first place!

This post comes from many experiences we have had together and as we are just a week away from completing 15 years of a wedded life, I recall bits and pieces of this journey. There are many times we throw our hands in the air in a gesture to give up on deeds but trust me ladies, the trials and tribulations of life just makes your man turn slowly somewhere there in between those not- so- good experiences to play the protective father. Its something Ive realised lately and feel sometimes women see things only after the time has passed considerably. :(.You can feel  genuinely that he is worried about you .  And when that happens I often tell myself- ‘Marriages are indeed made in heaven” as he is the only one who knows what fits you right and what’s right for you!

Keep Wishing!

It was the other day that I spoke out or rather blurted out an item off my wish list. Let us face it people…All of us have wish lists whether it has been put down in black and white or just lies quietly in the deepest attic of the mind. There is a reluctance to divulge the list sometimes for the simple reason that it may not be fulfilled! It was just the other day that I blurted out one to a family friend. It came off my lips.  I say this to bring in the fact that an item on a real wish list stays…JUST STAYS! No matter what! ‘I want to see the Big Ben and the Drawbridges of London’! Watched these Drawbridges recently on one of Harsha Bhogle’s video blogs too where he too seemed very excited to talk about them ! Atleast I'm not alone with this one I thought!

Another closer look at the drawbridge.

My fourth class English teacher was British. She was Miss. Gale Dyke. A very tall woman, who wore flowing, long skirts with baggy blouses. She also had a pair of spectacles that hung around her neck and yes her table was always messy! Never mind!  She taught us amazing English. By amazing I mean, interesting stuff. All of us stared in utter awe and respect of her knowledge and diction. A large part of what she taught was about London and its drawbridges.

A picture of an ancient castle.

The castle itself. The Soave Castle

‘The Castle drawbridge was a moveable, heavy, wooden bridge which spanned the width of a castle moat . The drawbridge consisted of a wooden platform with one hinged side fixed to the castle wall and the other side raised by chains. It would be raised vertically and dropped down again when danger had passed.  The purpose of a drawbridge was to allow, hinder or prevent easy entry into a Medieval castle’…That was definitely not what or how she would tell us. There were models made, pictures shown (real pictures in which she and her family stood in front of a bridge and smiledJ)! Wow we thought and sighed. It was like a scene where a traveler stood at the middle of a village and told the people of that village the stories of the far off places that he had seen. At the end of it all her drawbridge stories slowly moved on to the process of ‘knighthood’ and what significant roles it played in a royal life led by people out there. She showed us the different swords, named them, drew them, even held one paper made one and showed in action how the soldiers fought with itJ and then finally we were asked to do a project of the life and times of the knights, about Trunnions and Windlass et al. Another world that took us through the streets of London in dreams!

The trunnions are the protrusions from the side of the barrel that rest on the carriage.

A knight's shining armour!

     

Many a time, life’s stories and experiences change the wish list by order or just have new ones to fill it up.  I heard that they do not open the drawbridges anymore but the item stands on my wish list nevertheless for other reasons as well. Its hard to say why and how for many items on a wish list. At some point it was Bungy jumping and a roller coaster ride that gives me goose bumps. Oh they were easy to tick off. There is one more weirdo one- to stay in a tent overnight in a jungle and then to trek during the day and I want to do this for 2 full days. Can’t quite figure out how this one came but has remained in my list for over a decade now. Here’s an easy one off my list- to drive all night(rather to be driven…I don’t want to be burdened with watching the roads with all the alertness it demands at that hour) on a good road with good soulful music on a car music system and yet has not happened! A more nobel one is to see the Perumal in Tirupathi in very close proximity!! Been on my list for a few years now! Many many more such wishes that will be written over and over again!

What about yours? Do find the courage to speak a few from yours.

My experiments to mute the words!

Emotions best display their power when they are exhibited – in fiction as in life-for their value is apt to be lost in the telling. We all as humans only try hard to use language to be a mirror that could reflect the world around us but not one that could articulate it. The essence of a world we go through and the essence of our thought I believe cannot be understood by talking about but can only be shown. Now, do I sound like a no-go with words! A pessimist ? A total loser with ‘words’? Well, ‘Words are all I have’ and for me to say it in my post where I’m honest, it’s a total misnomer to say that talking doesn’t help. But let me put an argument before I stash the argument as a no-go.

A philosophical try…The relationship between our language and the world it pictures cannot itself be stated in language. There is one thing in the world that a picture cannot depict- and that is itself. If we were to take a painting of a pipe and wrote on it, “This is a picture of a pipe” we would be going outside the pictorial form. If on the other hand, we were to regard the writing as just another part of the painting, it would stand in need of interpretation just as much as the rest of the picture too begs an interpretation. We would need to inscribe a further statement on the painting to say what the writing was doing- and then we would be back to the same problem again. This is because truth is not intrinsic to pictures; rather, it is something a picture gains by virtue of its relation to something else-something outside itself-namely the state of affairs it represents. Whatever goes on within the picture is just more picture-which we can hold up against the world to see if it is accurate or not. So the addendum,  “This is a picture of a pipe” would have to be similarly held up. Needless to now say, we cannot hold a picture up against itself, as it would be no different to simply looking at the picture!! Likewise, language is a form of depiction, the same limitations apply to the words, which may represent how I feel in reality, but cannot represent what they have in common with reality in order to be able to represent it. If we tried doing this with words we would only produce more language, just as we produce more picture by directly writing on the painting. So say less or nothing at all! Like this picture...

So much hasn't been said about the way we turned the pencil to bring the right song on! Yet I haven't said it all! Because we all turned the pencil in the cassette with a different purpose or feeling!

So you see what can’t be said can’t be said and it can’t be hummed or can’t be whistled either. The limitations of explicit assertion are evident in everyday life. The fact that we as people see that we water down a thought or simply underplay or completely distort what we actually feel by putting things in words! I believe, where talk is cheap, thoughts are worthless. Similarly, where thoughts are worth a great deal- it reveals the similar limitations of any statement that proposes to express ‘great’ truths such as the nature of God or the value of human life or the problems of climate change or a bad government or just how I feel! Whenever, there is representation, the most important truths will be the ones that can only be shown and not stated. Wow, that was my best try with what I want to say with the WORDS I had!

Just play...

It all started with appa taking me to ‘Popli Bros’ one sunny Saturday afternoon, the only famous sports shop in Madurai. He wanted to get himself a Yonex badminton racquet as he wanted to bring that into his week end routine. It was a Saturday family affair. It was the time when Coats got a new indoor court neatly done for the club members. Dad forced me to buy one too. I was quite happy with my wooden frame racquet that had undergone gutting and re-gutting by Mari Sir(The tennis , billiards and badminton coach for the campus). A talented coach who played tirelessly with all of us. There was a single court in the indoor enclosure built and did not have a parquet finish too. My mom accompanied us with her sari and sat there extremely proud that her husband played  my brother and me on one side single-handedly. Of course we let her play a game with appa and she did a decent job of it. Well, badminton runs in the family. She had played it during her college times. Not a great player but must state that at 64 she still takes the racquet from us and plays a bit! That’s what sports does to people, I believe. Keeps us young, trying, passionate and interested!

My friends and me would start at about 2:30pm(an hour after lunch) and keep on playing doubles/singles matches continuously. The aunties came in at 4:00pm. We were normally called to play the doubles. The court management now would undergo a change. We guys always took the back court when we played with the aunties. For the 6 games they played on an average they brought with them juices and cheese sandwiches. Now! While they gossiped and snacked, we would quickly squeeze a game or two.  Life was about snatching the right moment to play out!  One of us would sheepishly ask for permission before jumping in for a game (mostly it was me!) After the ladies went away  a few more games later came the uncles of the colony. Wow that’s when we get to hear the feathered cock zoom past the nets with an adorable hiss  that we so love hitting but never managed much. It’s the power with which they played. Sometimes(just sometimes!), we were called to join in and of course without doubt our job was to now guard the net part in front (they were playing  doubles and yet we didn’t spoil their game). There was a big ‘Seiko’ clock that hung from the wall there. My eyes would keep darting to it to keep a tab on the time. At about 6:25 pm I need to stop playing and run. Now does this sound like Cinderella running home at 12 midnight from the ball? While she left her shoe behind, it felt like I left my passion behind every time I ran that way!

There were times when I played on as my heart said so. Just defy it! I would tell myself .  I know I will go home to face my patti’s ‘archanai’!  I will have to face the consequences of my own actions was an early lesson learned . I would cast a glance at appa for some support and all he would ever do is just look away into his Readers’ Digest! Patti will go on and on about how ‘unfeminine’ my attitude is becoming by playing like this(Play according to her was associated to her son and granson you see! Its a gender thing btw:)) and when time has to be kept, how indisciplined I am! ‘ When the pooja light is on at 6:30 pm, you should be at home to quickly light the Tulsi light’ , she would go on and on! I can still quote her words in Tamil even today! No innovation …it was the same tone and use of words too! Later that night , during dinner, appa would emphasize that when we meant to play more than the stipulated time, we must inform patti before going! That’s the lamest thing I heard as these are unplanned moments! Of course an argument about how I feel when I JUST play ;I was only 30 mins later than him ; how a game cannot be interrupted ; about my passion to play on to complete the game etc will happen! He will hear me out and will let me have my last word and then ask me about the last game and its scores! Its like heaven smiled at me at that moment as he is telling me(without spelling that out)..’Ok ok I buy that argument but patti needs to know you respect her words’! So you see I light the Tulsi lamp too by 6:50 pm! DONE! I kind of make a big loud proclamation of that on such days! ;)You can still hear her in the background about how easily my dad is letting me go off with the latecoming and my justifications! Sigh!

How the feather got stuck in electric wires when we played outside the house ...nothing changed since the times we played with the wooden racquet!

The Tulsi mutt that got me into a lot of trouble with patti:)

Many things make sense. We all grow up with very unique passions, sometimes with strong likes and dislikes towards the happenstances and no matter what parents/grandparents say to get us straightened up to their likes, we still continue to do it. Any form of sport  has that capacity to stir that kind of passion too! And so I believe that they understand that somewhere deep down and that is why they let us be! Beyond the bickering and nagging of Tulsi lamp lighting nothing was done to curb that passion of mine. And that is why I still play the game with the same zest,that has remained untouched and undisturbed!

Abstract art

When was the only time you thought that something was very different. It could be something in the way you respond, absorb and understand. There’s depth, fear and a clear streak of genuine content too ! No matter how hard you try, it just doesn’t fit anything you ever saw before. Never found the right word or the right sentence to describe because it simply remains. It fills you and empties you all at the time. You sit in retrospect and sprinkle all you ever knew to decipher the heights and the depths clearly. To see patterns as usual. A picture speaks a thousand words. To read the picture and connect. Yet it remained elusive. The search to more clues is always ongoing in order for unsorted data to be sorted. It eats into all you do and all you plan to sort out for sure!  All of a sudden its all there when you decided to see a stroke that stands out clearly to define and name it. To pin the context.  Sometimes like a scary sonnet or sometimes sweet and sacred...all in one piece of art. You see all the colours- the high mountains, the quiet stream, the singing birds, the troubled waters, the happy brook, the ferocity of the branches that reach out from it...all off the same abstract picture! Nature has so many facets to show and its only a few that we play back into the picture we try and decipher. Its also a belief that its the nature that we see that shows in the picture too!

A machine at work. The orange ball is the thought that stuck out!

A scary one !



I thought were strands of hair. A dishevelled hair !

 

Entwined in thoughts and purpose.

                         

While on a stroll through the school gallery, there are many pictures that tell many tales. I could quickly make the lines. The abstract art piece is the one that disturbs you and pulls all strings together to make a picture in your mind. The artist here has used the shades and strokes with a reason and I believe a good one to justify unto himself what he intended to paint, was of value and substance. When we walk away you took with it only the meaning that you attributed to it. Its not easy, people, to make things in this world that are of genuine value and meaning. It sometimes remains stuck with the artist and never reached the altar. It’s the artists’ mind that reflects on the picture . Nothing more and nothing less! Atleast what you thought the artist wanted to. There are a million interpretations to what we know and how we know but what is, hasn’t changed in the picture. Sometimes nothing changes the way you have seen the picture not even an artist who saw the picture with you. This abstract description was meant to show the 'Unknower' I remain in Art as an area of knowledge! So much to aesthetics and my art classes!:)

The mind by large is the only supreme judge of all that it sees. It kindles the thoughts to make jotted points. It painstakingly understands the sketches it sees .The rays of thoughts have been dabbed, dipped, stroked and visualized even before you have read the label below this abstract piece. No label too! Such is the power of the senses. To read what is seen and unseen. Its beyond the comprehension of an individual to understand how the mind comprehended. That conception happened now, but the inception, a good while ago. It read the things that were in sync, in which symmetry was seen and all that there was on the same vibration only. The rest remained unlabelled and sometimes not worth filling up with thoughts.' I couldn’t relate to that bit' we would  say. Or may be we could and never tried to!

The journey through the gallery can bring many ideas to the table, ultimately. It did and always will kindle the mind as it is an experience in complete isolation. Its like a constant query for the truth. The unlabelled piece  leaves me to say what I want on it . It’s the freedom and the liberty it gives me to christen it and understand it at my will . An interpretation that remains liberalized and has for me broken all frames and fences that were once defined as boundaries of thought.  Within the confines of the mind I found the best way to answer the puzzles of the picture.That’s about abstract art…. that keeps many a people like me who can barely draw a straight line still thinking about the abstract picture that hangs on my mind’s wall!

On being a woman everywhere!

Its not often these days that I get to join a congregation of friends for a hearty conversation. Ok truth be told, its normally absolutely therapeutic.  The topics are generally.. husband bashing(sometimes, only sometimes glorifying also;)), about how disobedient our kids have turned out to be and how accommodative of those mistakes we have become, weight loss ways(most depressing topic because you are left feeling very FAT), cookery with all the details exchanged  as though we were making that immediately for the next meal session, movies, children’s school activity, which restaurant was visited recently (I am normally blur here…!), how to clean the glass pane in a new way, which detergent powder is best and economical  or why the temple is crowded on Friday mornings. While sometimes I find these topics mundane and degenerated in quality, I must admit that this makes for a large part of a lady’s mind and soul. They are good and healthy in many ways.

As a teacher, my fellow teachers in the staffroom and me always have had stories to narrate. About kids who play truant, kids who are very bright but don’t work hard(secretly all teachers are fond of such kids as they make for brilliant students who need our help to be pushed forward!) and how much we dislike that attitude, kids who show impeccable politeness and dedication and above all a passion for our subjects, which kid got admission where, how she coped with her difficulties, difficult parents  etc. of course we talk about the new trousers someone is wearing or the grand sale of shoes. We tell students not to compare marks but we would put the marks on Excel and get graphs out and compare performances. We talk about that too! Which 3 –in-1 coffee brand is best suited and to end the conversation we will talk about why coffee is bad for health as well. Contradictions galore but it continues!! Show off the cards and words written by students as though that was any yardstick to the teachers we were. Definitely not. But it does make a teacher’s heart sing! ‘Just look what my class had to say’. The joy is immense in this kind of sharing. Well, to put it right, its very reassuring for ourselves when we show each other these notes.

One of the cards for teacher's day that described me 'Patient' everywhere!Now?!

As a parent my conversations with my 11 year old mostly is about her day. ‘How best do you think we could have managed the stage for our class assembly? We got a remark that our class didn’t manage the stage properly!’ Now that’s not a question. So I mustn’t answer that. I know just what to say…say nothing. Well that’s saying something too! So I change the context and ask her about her selections. “Not sure whether I will be in the school BB team. But ma its so unfair…the senior girls are so tall and super! Well , "Super" is unfair, people, for kids today at least for mine! ‘Good ! Practice shooting well. You can make it’! Did you finish lunch fully, when is playtime today, are you going to wash your hair now and what is the book you just started. All these help to get a pulse of how her day has been. I love hearing and she loves saying and vice versa. So it works well between us!!  Its helpful when you have exhaustively probed all the areas!!

I want to stop this rant and make an intuitive observation…that,  if all this was by the men and not by the women in context would this whole aspect of therapy, reassurance as I call it  and helpful as I see it be different ! Yes , vastly I suppose and of course I admit that all this is part of all our lives and definitely don’t presume this is how it goes for all women. But having said that , I do see that there are many points of uniqueness in playing the role as a woman!

What say people!

Heart matters!

It was scintillating noise and whistling that filled the air on the release of a new movie last evening …’first release in the entire world’..in the words of the good friend who took the initiative to book the tickets for all of us. I must admit that I felt a lot of things different after all these years.

Movie watching is not just about the movie!

Growing up watching movies every week end in an open air theatre, I simply love movies.  ‘Ten Commandments’, ‘Samson and Delilah’, ‘The Exorcist ‘, ‘Benhur’, ‘Thirvilayadal’, ‘Maya Bazaar’, ‘Lava Kush’, ‘Pelican Brief’, ‘ A few good Men’(Not to forget the long talk he gave me on how the Jury works in the west...sigh), ‘Ethirneechal’ , 'Navab Naarkali', 'Adutha Veetu Penn'among the most memorable ones that I watched with my dad. The list is endless! Of course, asking him the dialogues that were going above my head those days. He was very quick in responding and made sure that I understood the plots as the movie progressed. The Channa Batura and Medu vadas served during intervals kept us keenly interested in this whole weekend affair.

The open air 'theatre' of the good old times now visited with my classmates after many years!

Well watching 1 movie per day was fine. Still normal you see!  My bro too watches movies avidly. He watches at least 3 in one shot when he hires VCDs. This is apart from the movies he watches in the theatres. Well as we know bad habits die hard!  That too,  first day first show was a MUST watch for him. I too have had a couple of occasions to watch them with him. It is  an experience!! Even today while driving back home after dinner he would declare,’ Ok  are we all going back home…putting the kids to sleep and leave for a night show? Game?’ All this said and then a look through the car mirror  (to get my mom’s permission after all these years) with a boyish grin!:) Who would say no to that charm!

Married to a man who is a movie buff too! Twice a month he would ride me in his bike to  Tirunelveli to watch the new releases. I would sometimes never know what movie I was going to watch. Once a friend’s wedding took us to Cochin. The wedding in the church was over by 12 noon. We rushed to the room and checked out. My husband promptly declared that we were to take the night train back to Ambas.  The autowallah parked us in front of the huge poster of Shah Rukh and Manisha Koirala in Dil Se in the theatre after being secretly told by my husband. The surprise made the movie SUPER.  We were prowling in with tickets got in black while we saw Malaika Arora Khan fill the screen and dancing to Sukhwinder Singh’s ‘Chaiyya Chaiyya’!The next 10 minutes went in my man explaining the Dolby effects of the theatre's acoustics. That’s how we killed time for the day! Infact, if I can remember well, people in the colony called him ,checked with us for the movie review before they went with their families to watch any movie !!

While my friend threw his hands in the air and clapped, broke into peals of laughter, followed the screen inch by inch told us when we slipped a bit, ‘wow’ing at the hero’s entry and the plot, there was only one thing in our minds!  That was the way we need to watch it. The joy of watching!!.

I thoroughly enjoyed the entire experience of watching the movie yesterday. It brought back tons of memories for me. As we walked back home, we did not talk about the movie and any of its details . It was a great entertainer. No doubt.  But about careless fun, an ability to throw the world away ,get engrossed, feel the pulse , absorb the atmosphere that breathed ‘fun’, to engage in the world there and yes without making a checklist of ‘Things to Do’ and live the moment whole-heartedly!

People , its an effort and I  admit that after a very long time I did forget myself for fleeting minutes while I watched the movie yesterday. It was a memorable evening in many ways and….well Yes, least of all ,the movie was also great!

My woes !!

By now if you are reading my blogs , you know that I have people at home who have driven me nuts for the last 14 years with their cricket passion. Well, my husband has been playing and watching the game for years now. Must emphasize that with the England test series happening and his own leagues which he plays once every fortnight, it has been a LOT of cricket. I am sure that word in bold pretty much sums up my feelings on that!  The Less said the better.

A normal train journey in India can become dreadful for me with just one co-passenger who is just half as crazy about cricket like him. Somehow he will get someone on those lines to talk about cricket. Its like he had extra sensory perceptions! He would laugh at common cricket jokes, criticize the latest match decisions, smile at some sentiments shared by the other ‘crazy’ man, and now this is the big part…correct his statistics like “ no no it’s the 31^st 100 for him. 30^th was in the Ashes cup! Ok!”  A small conversation of whether it is the 31^st or 30^th one for the batsman will continue until the other person hears something that takes him aback(not me . I remain unperturbed. I refuse to emote to these situations lately for the sheer fact that these statistics can be borrowed by people updating the Cricinfo sites! They are that accurate)..”You know he  got out at 108 in that century of his in Ashes ok?”. By now the passenger has frozen at the details! My heart often goes out to the other people involved you see! Ok the big part you must know is that he is otherwise a BIG INTROVERT! I am sure you understand my sentiments when I highlight that word, don’t you!

There have been times I have risen on a Sunday at about 5 o’clock just to make coffee as he would have to be alert and watch the Australia matches a good 10 years ago! Nowadays it is made at night and left in the refrigerator. All of a sudden he would get up from the sofa and bat the air in an earnest attempt to imitate the technically superb shot that Dravid just played.  He would sit back in the sofa and continue till a wicket falls, when surely if you have cardiac problems you are in danger. For a person who doesn’t raise his voice in the most tense moments actually can scare you with his decibel levels for “OUT”, “BOWLED HIM”! The other day Graeme Swann kicked the stumps in irritation in the recent test against India. So the father and daughter laughed about it and he quickly told me, “Guess what , he will pay a 10% penalty for that. Not out is not out. Umpire’s decision. It  ends there ok. Ha ha”!

But people, have you realized life always presents to us moments when we will have to eat our words! So after nearly 2 years I went to watch him play one of his league matches(Please come to watch me play. I am in form now. The ball is coming out of the hand well)! He did pick up 4 wickets (2 LBWs and 2 bowled). The whole half time went in bragging on how the ball turned and hit the stumps. Well I am used to it and anyway he is so full of himself in those moments that he hardly cares about your expression. So its easy you see;) .

Thats the field setting .

The batting order had him listed at  1 drop. After a couple of good shots and running between wickets, the umpire declared him LBW. Now the whole lot of us in the pavilion did realize that it was a bad decision by the umpire. But our man stood a full minute in total disbelief. ‘How can it be’! Then reluctantly walked back with a devastated expression. The whole evening went in showing us the trajectory of the ball  and how unfair it was! Now its my turn, “ Out is out. Umpire’s decision, you see!” It gives me immense pleasure to shut him off with his cricketing passionJ

His best friends too watch, play, talk and rant cricket(if not more). So there is no hope at the end of the tunnel  as well. There are video recordings done to watch again! There are quizzes taken, t shirts and mugs won! Of course bragging about that happens too!! Sigh!!

An autographed Tshirt won on a quiz recently!

The leagues and the test series continue and I know I have to face so many more such moments and comments.  Not that I am not seasoned to face them these days!  Just the other day my daughter amidst all the commentary from Geoff Boycott and Harsha Bhogle’s studio talks was reading a book, the father sat glued to the television and commented “ Ian Bell  in , Sreesanth will get him caught behind quickly“. Then all of a sudden she lifted her head from the book and said loudly, “  You know  daddy,  Ian Bell is one of the highest run scorers this year and his average is even better than Kevin Pietersen and Rahul Dravid”

My God! The legendary knowledge has been passed down and its another whole generation of torture that I have to go through! I realized that its contagious after all! Beware people if you have kids at home!!  Its definitely something to worry about!! I am not done with my cribbing yet…will come back with more rants on cricket later!!

                                       

Let them fall!

A few kids in my apartment complex recently whisked passed me as I found my way back chatting a few youngsters with who I had just played badminton. I must admit after an equal measure of 4 sets that we all played, I certainly looked like I was holding on to the last ounce of energy to swipe the card and find my way back home. The other kids screamed loud in excitement “Aunty you want to join us for skating?” What?!! Well, well! While I gathered the last breath to answer them, they were gone to get their rollers. I still remember it was my 7^th standard holidays when a roller skating area was paved in the campus where I lived. It was under a mango tree and quite a vast space that had a strong fencing . I had my rollers and after tightening my rollers I stood holding the fencing bar not knowing what I needed to do next. Of course it was a series of falls and sprains that taught me to enjoy  one of life’s most beautiful feeling…to glide through the air! The rollers then were made of steel and the science was the heavier the more grounded you remain.

This brings me to one of the few things I keep insisting at home. The other day my husband and me were at a restaurant enjoying good food and company with some well meaning friends when my daughter called to tell us that she had a ‘big’ fall and her elbow was hurting ‘big time’. The worried father spelt out all the medications through the phone and then of course it was my turn. I just said, “It happens all the time when you play.” Obviously she didn’t like what I said. If you belong to my generation and are reading this I am sure you do recollect having the biggest falls and also brushing off the wound to continue playing the throw ball or seven stones. The excitement of the game and the frequency with which you fall certainly helped. But hey people, today kids just don’t play throw ball, seven stones, running robber, dark room, road side cricket(stumps were broken twigs), running London(one had to keep running towards the main person and stop when required and remain a statue. If u moved an eye lash you were the ousted one now) and making sand castles. Many more like this I can recollect. These games taught one fairness, rules, winning, losing, to be hurt  and to re-coop.

Confinement was always against the law for us. Summer holidays had all the sun on our heads. We were a mixed gang of boys and girls of varying age categories. And to be honest we girls did all that the boys could do if not more. To attack the guava tree of the Tamil Teacher’s house, we knew her sleeping pattern. We knew her afternoon nap time. By tea time, she had no guavas left in the tree. Not to miss the pomegranate tree at home that my mom had taken care to guard the fruits from squirrels. She would tie a plastic cover over every fruit. In  vain. They were no more. Diwali had us plan bombing! Wow, this by large is my favourite one. The night before Diwali, when people in the neighbourhood go off to sleep we would keep the ‘saram’ on their projecting Aircon. Keep it and run for your life! We will ensure everyone is out off scene before it goes off…thats about the only safety measure we ever took. My bro, usually, the youngest normally took time to understand what is happening and show reaction. He had to be told by us. Well, he was also the cautious types to take time to jump and run! The funniest part is, when the neighbours wish each other Diwali and then share the story of the mysterious 'saram'. Of course we didnt hear it!;) Climbed the biggest tree  to get mangoes; over the water tank and landing on the sun shades for some badam from the neighbour’s tree; jump compound wall to join the group in the afternoons(as it was a strick no no at home to go out at that time of the day) and so many such escapades that were great fun for all of us.

The banyan tree from which we hung and swung. Of course we bruised our palms.

The way we played in the hot sun!

The Karpanasami under the 'naar' mango tree from which we stole mangos and prashadam kept by people...but never prayed!

                                           

Today, when I take my daughter to my place to have her rough it out with the neighbouring boys and girls, she does have fun but she is still very very careful not to be hurt. She takes time to muster courage to jump the fencing and most shocking is, she is so finicky about running around in barefoot(Amma its hot and the stones hurt!). I am sure you get the drift people. While I am planning a whole post on some unique games we invented and played, I want to just conclude by saying that I am worried as a parent that she doesn’t find too many avenues to jump, leap, climb, crawl, sneak, fall and hurt herself. To me thats what makes a huge difference between growing up and growing up hard.

Must admit that as the rollers had to be done within a fencing, I soon stopped enjoying rollers. We all need the fresh air to fill our lungs, feel the tickle of the air on the skin, the red tincture on the open wound, the purple swollen finger hurt from catching a ball, a fever from the excessive sun burns, the sore feet from running barefoot,  to make us strong , spirited and mindful people.

Thats the best medicinal supplement we can give our children!

Mu(n)ch in the name of culture!

Deepavali brings a LOT of enthusiasm and new energy. I sometimes thought that our lunar calendar New Year should be this day. It seriously screams of new found happiness, light, an unexplained hope and of course the delicacies that we so anxiously wait for the whole year around, to attack. About a week before the  Ammavasya of the Aipasi month, the household smells of coconut oil. The rice flour is knead along with jeera, butter, asafoetida, salt, water and oil. Its left for a while and then the ritual begins. Lest I forget, this happens on a Saturday morning when all of us are around helping out in various ways. The routine cooking is done earlier and a lady cook comes along every year this day. As far as I can remember it’s the same person in all the years I have seen. Pretty much a family member!  

You could tell from the way she wore her nine-yards sari that she was one hell of an artistic person. The chief Executive Advisor for this project is self-appointed, my grandmom. The rest of us did all the work, you see! The suththumurrukku was going to be done!  

A small pyramid was rolled out from the dough , which had the haldi and kumkum adorned on it. A moment of silence and prayers…the murukku should be done safely and if u lent your ears closer to my bro, you can clearly hear him pray that they must be crispy! ;)No jokes! For a long time, he thought that, that was the reason for the prayers! The born glutton he was, evident at a tender age of three ? Of course that stands till today inspite of all the gymming and asparagus meals he occasionally claims he has! Btw. I missed the point…the pyramid mound of dough was the vignam theerkkum(do away with obstacles) Lord Vinayaka!! There were at least four of us, including my dad who were going to do all we can to have the hundreds of murukkus churned out successfully and here were women in this house, as an act of belittling us, so feverently praying to a small mound of dough!!! Ridiculous! But anyway, as long as the big mound of dough that can be transformed to crispy(my bro’s prayers would be answered) suththumurukkus, we were fine with any magical belief.

The banana leaves were made into small neat squares of the size of a hand, over which the dough was slowly and steadily rolled by twisting it. That’s why the ‘suththu’  prefix! Now one thing is certain- this lady is an unsung Michealangelo in the making for the dexterity she had while she did this or I even compare her to Vishwakarma(he sculpted the Universe according to the Hindu mythology!).  I can vividly remember after applying coconut oil in the neatly cut banana leaf I would sit hours watching her fingers artistically rolling the dough into concentric circles. The white dough rolled out so aesthetically on the green leaf made for such a wonderful visual treat. Of course I have tried many a time and over the years can actually manage something closely resembling it but definitely not half as beautiful as hers. Remember! I had to do it between, “Don’t go near the hot oil. Watch from far ,else go outside”, from my grandmom. Skills learned under pressure and learned when you weren’t supposed to, are probably the fastest learned and absolutely thrilling to do as well , not to miss the point that such skills are a pleasure to learn too !! 

The suthu murukkus!

It took a full six hours and the suththumurrukkus were all done, packed into big containers and of course not to miss the way my mom made extra special aromatic filter coffee to go with it that afternoon. Of course my grandmom had to say the salt was less or more or something to show everyone at home she was by right the chief of the project and thus involved in the final evaluation. The light brown or deep brown had a difference. These were even removed before they were fully fried and my mom would quickly propogate that that’s the way she liked it. Tastes, methods, aesthetics and the colours of such preparations may vary and change but the truth remains that rituals kept the culture intact and the taste for such rituals and the murrukkus still run deep in our lives. At least in mine!

Last remnants of the recent experience!

Recently a colleague in school lovingly brought such murrukkus which were brought by her mom from India. We were about a few of us who ate it to the last bit. As I had mine with my make-do Nescafe, I thought to myself…culture and tradition are the everlasting identity that we can give ourselves forever. They are not part of you they are YOU! On another note, my close Chinese cubie neighbor friend had a lion’s share of this and declared that she simply LOVES it!

C'mon people, Who doesn’t!!!

Showers of sentiments from my city!

Coconut, fruits, areca nuts, betel leaves,  jasmine garlands…all set on a silver plate is always my stuff to carry. It’s an annual family event. Azhagar is angry and he must be sent off after cooling his temper you see !!.  Appa would  perch us in the Race Course pandal as early as 4:00 pm in the most strategic of positions. As my dad drives us through the over- crowded streets, my grandmom for sure would have uttered “This is the 46^th year I am seeing this” , to us for the 100^th time while she finds her corner in the pandal.  Anyway, while she says this , all of us will turn and look at her as though we saw Kannagi taking a sabatham ( oath )  that she will always be part of this event for another 100 years to come. The wait itself is filled up with all the hellos and hais to people many of whom we meet only once a year in that pandal.  Azhagar ogles his way through the city and finally arrives.  The bells are ringing and the ‘Govinda’chant  gets louder. For a man who is angry with his sister, Lordess Meenakshi as she is married off to Lord Shiva before he arrives, he certainly looks charming. The majesty, the dignity and royalty he adorns is simply breathtaking.  It is certainly worth the hours we spent waiting to see him.  The aarathi is taken and for many years as my mom and grandmom would talk about the ‘Lakshanam’(beauty)  I would just listen passively.   Over the years I have grown to see it myself .

Loud drums and nadaswaram  herald his entry into each pandal.  People from all over South India do come to see this event.  It is something like “Did India qualify for the Finals of the WC?” ie. “ Did Azhagar go into the river?”. Women adorn their best saree with  jasmine flowers and the men folk wear the different brightly bordered dhoti. The children wear their best clothes and dance around the chariot. The local folk dancers ,bells on their feet  wear the most brightly coloured  gaudy costumes. Not to miss the guy selling the most brightly coloured candy floss that you can ever find on earth.  Did I forget the palm fruit vendor who cools the atmosphere with the seasonal fruit that only lasts a second in the mouth , swiftly and effortlessly finding  its way through the oesophagus!  The whole day seems as though the city plunged into a sea of euphoria to welcome their god.  Now , all this for the angry man who pouted at the news of his sister marrying in his absence !! The end of the day is marked with the pandals serving the Prasadham to the devotees making  it a ‘stomachful’ event too . This day is pretty much representative of the people, their hearts and their way of life(their expectations of life too!) Festivity at its best !!

The story goes that the  Meenakshi temple was originally designed by the Nayaka to be a Shiva temple but by mistake the statue of the goddess was placed as the main shrine. Thus the name.  Now do I call this a gender superiority shown in the 17^th Century or a colonial influence of portrayal of chivalry (ladies first!!!) .  The celestial wedding of the goddess with Lord Shiva happens obviously earlier. The temple shines brightly the entire week and to the people of the city as if it is a wedding in all their households !

                                                               The centre of the city!

 

Where stories were told by skillful hands!

 I myself have had the opportunity to watch this  spectacle many times. At the end of the day after the evening rituals are performed, the shops around the temple( the city has the temple at the centre) get lit up.  The bangle merchants make the biggest bucks on this day… and I still have all my glass bangles safely locked up.  All the shops are well lit and thronging  with people who truly celebrate the event.

The people aimlessly soak the air that breathes their way of life!!.  Its really about tradition, culture, happy co-existence, spirits, earnestness, simplicity, common purpose ,careless fun and of course a strong sense of community that the city has.  To me till date, this very mix of sentiments defines a happy life. In it lies my spice of life!!                                                         

Did I miss something. Well, yes, I did for all the celebration that the people of the city showed their Kallazhagar, there is one magical return. As he finds his way to the river, the city has already experienced a shower of rain . No matter how many years  pass in history, this WILL SURELY happen.  Blessings to wash their worries ; their daily difficulties; that which  reassures & reiterates the faith of the god that they so blindly believe. For me, for a long time, it was …heroically turning to my 4 year old brother and declaring, “I told you it will rain!”. The expression on his face reinforced the belief he had in my word and of course the powerful goddess of this city  for many years to come!