It was the end of Kiran’s exams. He needed a break and Amma decided to join him to Bangalore for a stay at our home. They reached on Friday evening. As usual I was held up at office until 8pm. Mentally though, I was home since 4pm wondering what Amma must be doing, if Kiran had started playing on the Wii, what were they talking, what was all the fun that I was missing.
Come Saturday morning, Amma got ready early and started pestering us to go out somewhere. The next two days we were out on the roads of Bangalore, armed with a Bus Pass each. A Daily Pass costs Rs.32 and allows unlimited bus travel for an entire day. We went to places far apart within the city, without having to worry about buying the ticket or waiting for change from the conductor every time we changed buses.
I mostly sat beside the window cocking out my head trying not to miss any of the happenings outside. Most of the places I had never seen before. I was excited for sure, and I think it showed on my face. We visited relatives, went to ISKON and a couple of other temples nearby. We reached home as late as 8:30 both days, priding ourselves that we hadn’t spent more than the pass fare for the entire excursion.
It had been long since I ventured in that side of Bangalore and I was both surprised and amused by the walls in the city. They were vibrant and colourful with paintings. Huge image on various topics – musicians, old heritage structures, dancers, artisans, nature, birds, waterfalls. It was an exhilarating sight. Initially I was so drawn into the artwork that it never struck me to click a pic. When it finally 
dawned on me, I realized my mobile was with Kiran who was sitting far away in the back seat of the bus. However, I thoroughly enjoyed the experience. Kudos to BBMP on their new initiative!! I know there are some folks who have opposed this saying it is a waste of money, but I personally feel that this is a great way of creating opportunity for talented painters to showcase their skills. I had begun to feel that India has lost all its talent to History but I guess last weekend changed my opinion.
On our journey back home from Majestic, there were two girls sitting across me in the bus. They were definitely discussing something very interesting. Unfortunately they used a medium beyond my understanding – mere expressions and lip & hand movements. They seemed really engrossed in their conversation thankfully oblivious of my stare. Insensitive though I may sound to their disability, I enjoyed the experience. One of them especially gave such pronounced expressions, it almost looked to me like a dancer in performance.
Looking forward to more trips around the city like this one. Hopefully in future I will have a fully loaded camera in hand to bring back my musings.** Pic courtesy The Hindu
It is that time of the year again, when the countdown to the New Year has begun. It is once again time to make resolutions, check on old resolutions, and renew the contract for some past resolutions. It is once again the shortest day of the year and it is once again the day when this blog was started.
For one, I can pat on my back for having braced the storm of distractions for an entire year. The number of posts made in this year is 26, which on an average means a post a fortnight, which sounds good and regular. However, I regret not being as regular as the average seems. There have been times when I posted twice a week and sometimes, months when posts never happened.
The past year had a good mix of personal thoughts, festivals and incidents. I may not call this a laudable beginning, but atleast it was a beginning. Having stepped on the one year milestone, it is now time to take my blog somewhere. The journey so far was unplanned and the target as just to fill; to remember to come back to this space; not let it bury under the sands of time.
This was my New Year Resolution for the year 2009, and I grant myself that I lived upto it. This year, I renew my resolution, although making it more competitive. This year I resolve not just to add on to this page but to find a Purpose to this blog, Plan my entries and follow a Pattern. I also plan to put up pics occassionally alongside the text.
Incidentally today I also complete 7 whole months of marital bliss. True to the word, it has indeed been bliss. Like the wise men said, “Marriage is an eye opener”. It not just opened my eyes to the fine person that Hubs is but also to a few qualities in me that are too deeply etched for me to deny. No matter how much I disagree, I realize I am quite a stubborn person with a fixed mind, rarely open to change. Another surprise to me was that I am not as calm a person as I thought I was and can sometimes have a really short temper.
In the beginning of the New Year, I hereby also resolve to overcome my shortcomings gradually, bit by bit, one after the other.
On this yet another hopeful note, I conclude.
Ah I forgot to mention, coming weekend there is a trip to Ooty awaiting me. Hopefully I should have a piece about it before the New Year sets in!!
I spent a few minutes today reading one of my age-old blogs and boy, was I impressed?! I never realized then that I have a flair for writing. Now, when I have started writing again after a break of few years, I see in myself neither talent nor passion. My command over the language seems to have disappeared. I often find myself struggling to make my point while the right words never make it further than the tip of my tongue….probably coz its been more than a while since I picked up a book to read. Besides, I am no more a thinker that I once used to be.
Lack of thoughts – rather, not spending enough time with my thoughts leads to a drop in the number of posts. My diary which used to be randomly filled with my tryst with philosophy and the inner mind, runs dry.
Talking of changes, I have almost given up my daily prayers so too my exercises. It wouldn’t be fair to blame all these changes to my ‘hectic life-after-marriage’. If anything, my life now is easier than before. I have the entire morning to myself, whatever way I choose to waste it. Cooking happens only for one time that too invariably spills over for the next day’s meal.
The only way to explain this then, is to confess on my laziness. Now, is repair time. I plan to get back all the good habits that I once had and at the first place stop cribbing about lack of time. Closing this post on a hopeful note of having more topics to write on more frequently….
I frequented her house as her daughter and I were classmates. More than classmates, best friends. I needed no occasion to sleep over at her place. Even my sudden visits would be responded by delicious food & lots of chatting. All this, even when she would have just returned from school, tired of listening to the noise little ones make.
I remember the one time when I went. She opened the door saying, “I knew you would not let Gayu alone at this time. I knew you would come to pep her up.” Her eyes were giving away the truth that she was holding her tears. She was a great mother.
As I moved out of the city, my trips to her place dwindled. Sporadic, but yet periodic. This time I stayed over at her place, the house was full of guests. It was her daughter’s wedding after-all. On the Wedding day morning, she pleaded that I cajole he daughter to wear the poo-jadai she had bought. After the wedding, she blessed that I get married soon too… I noticed the moistening of her eyes then.
Shortly, I got married… she was not present, but her wishes came along with her husband, and mails from her daughter. She was bed-ridden. I couldn’t see her, but I know her eyes were wet again. I promised myself I would see her when I go back home for Diwali.
But alas, this time she left my eyes drenched….
I am tired of working second shift. Yea, I know you’d say its better than working double… but this doesn’t suit me either. I know until very recently, I loved working 12 hour days. I never even minded taking client calls in the middle of the night. Buy you see times are different now. I reach office at 12:30 and wait for opportunities when I can run away at 8, not even waiting for my shift hours to complete. Then it doesn’t even matter if I have to sneak away without my Manager’s knowledge or I need to leave myself online to make him believe I am yet at office.
While in the cab I restlessly look at the watch time and again wondering why it takes so long to be home. I literally jump off and run all the way up the stairs. When I reach, I am always jubilant as if my day has just begun. I go on and on with narrations of what happened through the day…. Just like I used to when daddy came back home after a tiring day at work, just like I used to every evening on the way home from school as mummy tugged me occasionally to keep me off the middle of the road, just like I used to when my sis returned after her never-ending tuition classes, just like I used to when I met my cousin after a while…
This mindless chatter that I oh so cherish, I thought was childhood… but I guess this is actually what it means to go back to family.
She was speaking to her fiancé who had just landed in India for their wedding. She lazily tossed around in her bedroom while Topi sat looking bored on the sofa in front of her. Topi was a little excited from within though she had to maintain her mundane face… she didn’t want to let the cat out. This was after all her last few days with everyone in Mumbai. After the wedding, she would fly back with her husband. Topi’s cell rang. She moved to the balcony and leaning out, she spoke into the mic in a soft tone. “Where are you?”. She hung up quickly thinking about their last night’s conversation, “Shilpa is really busy with her office work, doing night outs. She is scared she may not be able to make it to your wedding.” She was visibly upset but only momentarily. She swiftly replied, “I know Shilpa re… there are yet 3 days for her to come na, she will finish all her work and be here.”
She was yet on the phone while the doorbell rang. Appa opened the door. “Hey, its you? Come in come in” he said. “Gayu”, he called out. “Look who has come”. “Who has come? Send them in”, she screamed back yet over the phone. “Hi!!” She turned back with a jolt disbelieving her ears. Her ears weren’t playing tricks on her. It was indeed Shilpa’s voice!! She yelled, “Hey Kamini!! Tu kab aayi??” Immediately the phone was hung up and sooner than you would expect, she was jumping with joy.
It is this one moment I will treasure all my life…. The joy on her face at that flash, the smile on Topi’s face and at the same time, the ecstasy that brimmed in my heart. If there was a way we could all re-live that moment, I could do anything for it.
With Gayathri, I always enjoyed giving surprises. Though we have been in different cities for more than 3 years now, it has had no effect on our friendship. Its always the same when we are back together.
Her wedding is without doubt a memorable event in my life. The three days before her wedding when Topi and I stayed back at her house just to spend as much time with her as possible, I hold very close to my heart. Running from pillar to post the evening before her wedding for some last minute purchases, forcing her to agree for make-up, cursing her for not buying enough bangles to go with her sarees, getting her ready on her wedding day were were not only fun for that time, but moments I would cherish all my life.
On 15th May, I was on my way to the airport, heading to take a flight to Mumbai. The occassion was my marriage. Of the billion thoughts that passed my mind then, here is a miniscule:
"The next time I tread this path, I shall be a woman. In less than a week, I would be transformed...I shall no more be single. I will have a family of my own, I shall be secure, responsible and grown. I will be the person that was defined BIG in my childhood games. I would have arrived. This city which called me for my bread and butter, the city that belonged to others... it shall be mine now. And I will belong to it... forever and ever. I feel happy, I am excited. My heart is fluttering.... probably the joy of going to be with my family the last time before I am wed.... I am rejoicing, with tears in my eyes."
It was yet another Sunday morning…. probably the last one in this home. I yawned again but this time my head weighed heavy. I had a lot of stuff on my To-Do list and I had hardly begun. As I scanned through the stuff in the room wondering how I was going to fit it all into cartons, my mind wavered into the past.
“I like the house but I cannot afford that much advance, can you reduce it a little?” After a series of negotiations between the owner, broker and me, I finally settled into my little palace with a suitcase full of clothes and a duffle bag to hold toiletries and other trivia.
I had barely stepped in and I had to run down to buy a broom – the first thing I bought for my new house. That was just the beginning. Soon, Ishan and I were out on the streets, looking for the best offers available for me to set up my house. We started off with dusters, brushes, and mattresses; then moved on to items for the kitchen. Stuffing his car with all sorts of stuff, we went on to select my cupboard. I wonder where we got all the energy from… we traveled across the city only in search of the best deals. When we reached home at 9:00, we had a bill 3 feet long and two rooms filled with packages, bags, cartons, vessels, accessories, appliances and everything else you can think of.
Too tired to do anything, I went off to sleep leaving everything as it was. The next morning – a Sunday morning, the first in my house, I woke up to no tea or coffee. I hadn’t yet set up my gas stove. Nor did I have enough provisions to make myself breakfast. Today was going to be no easier than yesterday. I had to book my gas at the agency nearby. The cupboard was due for delivery and I needed to set the stuff to where was going to be their permanent location, thus making space for the cupboard. Ishan was kind enough to lend me his wooden chest which I could use for ironing and also stacking some of my clothes.
At the end of Day 2, I was sort of set for a living. I yet needed a lot of stuff like curtains, and other upholstery – but that could wait until the next weekend. As time went by, I kept adding a little this and that to my place and before I knew it, it was a full-fledged home with loads of my personal touch to it. It reminded of the verse “I love my house, I love my Nest; In all the world My Nest is Best!!” from my favourite book “The Best Nest” – ah!! Childhood memories :-)
Two years hence, this other Sunday, I again have no time to enjoy the morning sun, nor make coffee as my stove is given away. It is time to say good bye to my beloved. Not human, not living but mere brick and mortar. This home of mine has been my lucky charm, my constant support, well-wisher and friend. It has been witness to my laughter and cheer, and tears alike. It has been my partner in solitude, independence, strength and fear. In its shelter, I have seen life, learnt and grown.
This is the place that I can call my own. Even at 80 when I look back, the thought of this home will make me smile. It will enliven my youth - my freedom days. It will remind me of what I am and what I have the capability to be.
When I return the keys to its owner, I might not shed a tear. But my heart will take a thump as I move on to My New Home.
Yawn!! It was a beautiful Sunday.... I tossed and turned in my bed, wrapped my body in the cozy blanket to brave the chill of the morning. I wanted to sleep for five minutes longer, so that I could see the end of the dream that was now broken. Even as my eyelids fluttered, I saw a yellow streak of light barge in through the gap between the curtains. How did the sun manage to wake up so early on a Sunday, was it never tired? Didn’t it ever party till late on a Saturday night? I shoved my childish thoughts away as I stretched each muscle of my body.I lazily walked up to the kitchen sink where the vessels from last night’s dinner lay unwashed. I rinsed a saucepan and measured water for tea. As the water boiled, I watched. Bubbles formed on the surface, and the bubbles burst, each time letting out a gush of colorless, odorless vapor. I added the tea powder, intently watching the water change color… it turned orange, and then red, and then dark maroon before it was finally brown. I strained the concoction into a cup and observed it turn lighter as I added milk. I wondered, “How many colors have I seen since morning?”Tea cup in hand with a pack of biscuits, I headed straight to the balcony. This was my favorite place on a Sunday morning when I had nothing else scheduled. As I approached my seat, I knew what I was going to spend the next hour doing. It was peaceful, it was bliss. I enjoyed this silence… my only propeller for waking up early on a Sunday morning. Occasionally, a bird chirped nearby, the sound of the wind a sort of accompaniment to it. The plants swayed from side to side, their flowers seemed to wave me good morning. I found myself smiling, being one with nature, enjoying every moment of this. I was joyous from within, I wanted to dance, I wanted to sing, I felt like gurgling with laughter with the innocence on a child. I threw my hands up and wide as if embracing everything that God had to offer me in his today… I felt life… This was the paradise that I so always wanted to live in. But I knew this was not here to last…Slosh!! a car went by, splashing water from the puddle and smoke from its butt. Bow wow!!! I recognized the neighborhood dog as it chased the car. Along with this rose all the sounds of the earth. Somewhere an alarm went off, somewhere I could hear a kid wailing. Telephones were ringing, radios were playing, children were shrieking, people were shouting.As I went back in into my room I couldn’t help thinking, “Was this paradise lost or was this paradise lost…” Contributing my bit to the noise around, I switched on my laptop to play some songs.
The bus was bursting with people, their voices over the sound of the bus as it rambled along. The driver was playing a dual role of conductor as well. People were pushing, children were yelling. Mummies tried to calm their little ones, at the same time keep an eye on their luggage. Wonder where this bus was going.Outside the bus, it was a different world. A long, winding road, lush green pastures on either side, a pleasant wind, trying to dry the rain-washed roads. This paradise was my destination. I had to alight, I needed to, I was desperately trying to… but in vain. For every step that I put forth, I was pushed back by two. I was screaming whispers into the noise.At this moment, the bus halted. I paved my way through feet of different size and colour, even stepping on a few of them. As I reached the last step, I heaved a sigh of relief. Having succeeded in my venture, I decided to check what stopped the bus. I looked through the glass, a traffic police. He was looking straight at me as if checking if I was alright. As I moved ahead I turned back one last time, his eyes were yet stalled on me as I saw him alight. I was grateful to him, I smiled. He smiled back, a perfect set of 32 pearly whites, his twinkling eyes complimenting the cheer in his face. That was indeed the best smile I had ever seen.
dawned on me, I realized my mobile was with Kiran who was sitting far away in the back seat of the bus. However, I thoroughly enjoyed the experience. Kudos to BBMP on their new initiative!! I know there are some folks who have opposed this saying it is a waste of money, but I personally feel that this is a great way of creating opportunity for talented painters to showcase their skills. I had begun to feel that India has lost all its talent to History but I guess last weekend changed my opinion.