Storm in a teardrop

A tattered atlas,now in some abandoned shelf corner,referred way back in high school geography classes.Flipping through the first couple of pages,there it is on the right side,snapshots of our most treasured celestial object's sequential evolution across millions of years.Why the only single huge land mass exploded itself to drift apart in small & big fractions on the ocean bed tell us firmly,it was geography that paved way to all the history on earth.That very fact led us in to coining yet another inevitable word,Continent in its plural form & eventually its consequences. Today a child below 10 years might be fascinated if employed to put back each continent's jigsaw puzzle piece adjacent to one another just to see how they simply fit each other,elucidating the fact of oneness.

Until the latest remarkable evolution of our most treasured planet there ceased to exist the teardrop island which today hangs like a vestigial land to the Asian continent.Life sometimes is wonderful if some things ceased to exist.One such thing in my cease wish list would be this tear drop island appearing orphaned on the waters of earth right under the Indian foot.History tells me every single human life out there today flourished as a consequence of desired settlement for a pie of land within the tear drop island, innumerable centuries back. On further dig with my inquisitive shovel,I only find that they were all migrants from our Indian subcontinent & from nowhere else.Which just means all their roots trace back to our rich cultural, social & political heritage.Even if they refuse to acknowledge,it still is the embedded truth lying uncluttered in their deep selves.

Though the summary of Ceylon's ancient history sounds much like a fairy tale, it is much more than a horror flick right now.First landed an Indian king from a far India with his small army, followed by some Buddha bikshus & then the men from the near India.The far Indians transformed in to what they like to call themselves.The Sinhalese.Deriving a religion, language & custom of their own by borrowing it from every possible neighboring Indian state.The near Indians remained to be what they were.The Tamils.The crux of all the existing agony there today in a way seem to derive from chronological difference in each other’s arrival time.Since the far Indians were the initial inhabitants,they still believe that they hold an upper hand & hence the exploitation of the late comers.But late comers too agonized the former by waging wars at inappropriate times in the past,all standing as a stifling factor to the already fragile world peace, today.

But if you wish to take a close look from the time a demon ruled this island till the time tigers were finally traumatized,you will notice just like me,how finely destiny devices its own disaster plan,time & again,symbolizing the remarkably visible tear shape of this land in the lives of its inhabitants too.The divide between people became so bitter that it gradually became a land of twin tales.I simply wonder how history will unfold this double version events & interpretations to the world tomorrow.

Why the sleeping tigers were provoked in the first place, answers many similar ethnic conflict stories around the world.Like the most prevalent black& white divide in the Columbus discovered continent,in the tear drop island too,the Tamil sect was suppressed from the beginning denying their social & political rights as citizens.A fight for their basic rights began long time back paving way to multiple gangs of liberation tigers.One huge tiger swallowed the rest to emerge as a super tiger which claimed it to be the LTTE.Prabhakaran's pristine cause behind his tiny freedom fight picked up too many distracting controversial factors along its way and stood as a huge threat factory to the world in course of time.Once the wild cats tasted blood & flesh, basic goals seem to have forgotten.Civilians - the very word which addressed only the suffering Tamils faced threat from their own freedom fight heads, letting evaporate the very essence of a once focused goal.How many of us know what it means to live without peace, happiness, home, food, work & above all loved ones?.Particularly does the other pampered sect there know what it means to lose one’s identity & stand orphan in one’s own country?.

While all this is just one side of the story, let’s flash some light on the other side. Just to destroy an insignificant number(after all whose basic intrinsic intention was to fight for their sect’s safety & rights),will any democratic government play with the lives of millions of innocent people?.Should we blame the British government who followed a divide & rule policy by failing to include Lanka as an Indian province when the far away string of Andaman Islands came under our shelter?.Though all this is out of hands right now, at times it simply appears as reflection of a deep rooted hatred for their counterparts by the Sinhalese to destroy the Tamil sect completely.In the name of destroying the liberation tigers, they silently seem to have dwindled the count of innocent Tamils.

Sinhalese are the ones actually in the safe zone who didn't know what is it to be on the war front shedding blood & lives.Every day the black & white prints paint only the red blood story of those dreamt of a Tamil Elam.We neither found any thoughtful strategy been devised nor any concrete solutions put forward to rescue the suffering souls. International community's voice fell only on the deaf ears of the Lankan democrats.As an island nation, it preferred to nurture friendship & good relationship with countries across continents but failed to make peace with people within its own boundary.How strange is that?.The war has kept the country from development for more than a quarter century now.

If the time, attention & money the Lankan government spent in destroying lives of innocent people & in trying to destroy LTTE without a trace, be spent in giving equal rights to the Tamil sect & treat everyone like its own children, I don't see any reason for gangs like LTTE to have uprooted in the first place. Since they failed to do so, it paved way for a powerful gang to bud into an inevitable evil in their own soil.Prabhakaran’s is only a chapter in the red blood book of Sri Lankan history until now.In fact I believe the entire International community was distracted tactfully which kept us guessing how & when Prabhakaran’s life will end.Prabhakaran’s death was not the exact need of the hour to anyone.That might not even matter much to the million suffering souls.Restoring social & political rights to the Tamil sect & ensuring their safety & respect was the bottom line expectation from the Lankan government for over many decades now.

Better late than never.Even now this can be done, to prevent yet another big cat species evolve out of hatred for the Sinhalese.Few thoughtful & sensible government policies could easily spread harmony among people,painting back those lost colors in the lives of the existing ones.Will the Lankan govt give rights to the Tamil sect at least now?.Will Prabhakaran's dream of a Tamil Elam come true at least after his claimed & confirmed death?.If yes, what he couldn't achieve in his life time might stand materialized after a couple of bullets on his head.

Above all isn't it time the Lankans moved on in time and thought as a Sri Lankan nation rather than either a Sinhalese or Tamilian.If we Indians can think Indians first & then our Individual race, why is it not possible for them ?.Shall we simply ask an Indian child to gift our planet earth's jigsaw puzzle pack to the Sinhalese, to sit back and assemble them once to bring in a realization that all their bloodshed history could simply be traced back to a simple geographical phenomenon on earth.

Spratt

spratt..spratt..spratt.After a few more times of spratting up & down, all the split end locks were down there heading straight in to the dust bin. What remained was just another chopped coriander bunch but in black. Liking falling leaves, this seem to be the season of falling hairs. Quiz anyone whom you know & they have no hesitation in pouring out their cup of woes on it. The price for built up stress gets paid in terms of falling hairs, I thought.

One of my ex manager wore a wig, only as a full stop to all this I believe.Though it looked just like natural hair, am sure he must have coughed up a heavy sum on it.Since he commutes in my shuttle everyday, I find him most of the times stroking his artificial hair may be just to make sure it’s still in place amidst the speedy winds against which the bus plys.On days when he falls asleep in the shuttle, like a dry smudged paint brush, I find some hair streaks pointing horizontal from his head.Not many who travel in our shuttle are aware of this,though they might have had deep elements of doubt at times.Oh! then it needs some cautious attention all the time.Mm… sporting a wig wasn't that easy,I learnt.

A boy cut was also there in my options list.Though some day I would love to experiment on it at least once,it didn't seem to fit the bill for the time being.The option of a fully shaven head was the simplest of all but considering mommy as my high priority,I had to give up on that option too. So instead of sporting something that looked similar to a rat’s tail (though it wasn't exactly like that in my case) which sufficiently lacked volume, the best way to hide it seemed to go for short coriander bunch like, you know.

Believe it or not, I had plaited locks brushing much below my hips until my school days. In fact those days I was a big time cry babe watching my hair creeping down causing me nothing but trouble. Because it meant more time devoted to comb,plait ,wash & dry when there were too many other essential things to accomplish early in the morning. And needless to say, more oil & more shampoo for it’s nourishment. Still for mommy’s sake I let it creep. There hadn't been a single day without the crib & cry while brushing my long locks. A day came, when mom angrily agreed to chop it off till my shoulder length after a provoked arguement. And my dream of sporting a short cute hair came true.

After my haircut, all that people did to me was a taken aback look followed by hollowed eye expressions, which I hated to the core. So I made sure when I became a college kid, I sport a short hair from day 1,probably with just a handful of plaits reaching just below my shoulders. So during every semester break, I promptly take a scissors myself and chop off my black creeper preventing it creep down further. And those times I used to hear from my friends that they shelled a pretty money to get their hair cut done.'Lady, you go walk in to a haircut salon donating both your hair and a huge sum?', I would check. But never did I knew in those days, that a day would come, when I will head straight in to a hair salon to give my hair the blissful experience of having it caressed by some hair experts. Until I met one, I honestly did not have any high regard for this designation on earth.'What a ridiculous idea to have coined such titles - Hair experts.Are people so jobless to master the art of handling & experimenting on hair leaving all other things on earth'.That was my initial reaction to the term 'hair expert'.

Years after I started working,on some repeated suggestions from few interesting friends around that a layer cut would give me that renewed smart & sporty look, I went ahead and fixed an appointment with some expert in a nearby International branded hair salon. Being not so sure of all the clear do’s & don’ts before a haircut from a hi-fi salon like the one I was heading to, I neatly shampooed my hair the same morning & dried it one last time, knowing that all would have gone by evening. I headed straight in to the salon, observing all the showcased hair styling products. When I stepped in,I realised that both the existing hair experts were men. When I waited for my turn, one expert curiously quizzed me to finalize my chosen style of layer cut. When I was almost ready for the spratt session, he revealed to me that they cut hair only after washing it themselves. 'How strange ?' I felt. He then guided me towards a dim lit wash area. Comforted me on a sliding chair. Wrapped my shoulders with a warm towel. Took my hair by his side. And began to fondle it. That was the first time a guy was shampooing my hair.Let me tell you,next to mom, he was the one privileged to do so.When he gently stroked the scalp for the first time, my stomach churned a little, with the realisation of a strange guy washing my hair.He used three different shampoos from three colourful bottles.Soon aroma filled my nostrils inducing some pleasant feelings.Slowly I realised, that should have been the best hair wash my scalp must have ever witnessed.Not even a single strand got uprooted.I never saw him pull, squeeze or twist my hair any time during the wash.Every thing he did was too gentle on the hair.My hair must have thanked him that day for all the agony it underwent in my hands. Such a wonderful hair wash experience except for a mild pain on my neck for having rested it on an elevated surface during the wash.

Post hair wash session, he wrapped my damp hair in yet another soft towel.Reminiscing such a pleasant hair wash under a dim light from some angelic hands which failed to pull out even a single strand,I moved towards the dressing table.When I faced my image crowned in a huge white turban,the wide mirror facilitated me in watching his toolkit right behind.By then, his companion helped him sterilize all the accessories one by one. Meanwhile based on some input from my hair wash expert, he came near me to peel away my white turban and feel the texture of my hair.His avid love for my bunch of dead cells were undeniably visible. He was so passionate in feeling my hair.In fact he never looked at my face, which I felt was much pretty than what he was fiddling with.

Finally all was set to begin my haircut.Looked like expert #2 wished to cut my hair.They had exchanged some words when the combs were sterilized.He began with a simple spratt at the end.Then parted my hair in to at least 6-7 sections to give his best part by part.His keen concentration never spilled away from my hair.He was looking through every cut of his.And each spratt was so professional that I could feel the difference from the spratts in other local salons.It was full of spratts from side to side,up to down and sometimes here and there.In one way I was patiently battling against boredom while the expert was at work.All this time expert #1 was watching him & his strokes.Both were equally qualified to my eyes & equally passionate of their profession.I took my words back on hair experts in one of those silent minute.

There is definitely some meaning in calling themselves as hair experts.It means so much in a way since I cannot claim to have combed my hair without at least 1 strand in my hand.Soon expert #1 took over from the other to style it after my much awaited layer cut.That took another 20 minutes.At the end of which I couldn't believe if am I the one with such beautiful hair with some cute curls at the end.I never knew they could be styled that way.Each strand stood replenished with a bright shiny look.All I simply had to do at the end was to tie them back which looked awesome even without tying.

At the end out of some self admiration from the relfecting mirror, cheerfully I swiped my card for half a grand plus taxes for my most memorable hair cut.He inferred the output of his work from my expressions.I looked so different after my haircut.They definitely made a difference to people who walked in to their salon. Apart from singing their praises,I even recommend people to experiment their hair in the hands of some expert at least once in their life time. Believe me it’s worth it & more so you will love it. When I visited home after a week from then with my short cute cut, needless to say like any typical middle class Indian mom, my mommy also had the shock of her life.Infact her smile froze on seeing my coriander bunch cross her eyes. To add fuel to the fire she was very curious to know how much I shelled out for the left over fistful bunch. As a responsible daughter I just told her a plain white lie just to calm her nerves, u know ?

Life in a nutshell

Came across this lovely poem named 'Ithaca' written around a centrury back by a greek poet named Constantine P. Cavafy.

As you set out for Ithaka
hope your road is a long one,
full of adventure, full of discovery.
Laistrygonians, Cyclops,
angry Poseidon-don't be afraid of them:
you'll never find the things like that on your way
as long as you keep thoughts raised high,
as long as a rare excitement
stirs your spirit and your body.
Laistrygonians, Cyclops,
wild Poseidon-you won't encounter them
unless you bring them along inside your soul,
unless your soul sets them up in front of you.

Hope your road is a long one.
May there be many summer mornings when,
with what pleasure, what joy,
you enter harbors you're seeing for the first time;
may you stop at Phoenician trading stations
to buy fine things,
mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony.
sensual perfume of every kind-
as many sensual perfumes as you can;
and may you visit many Egyptian cities
to learn and go on learning from their scholars.

Keep Ithaka always in your mind.
Arriving there is what you're destined for.
But don't hurry the journey at all.
Better if it lasts for years,
so you're old by the time you reach the island,
wealthy with all you've gained on the way,
not expecting Ithaka to make you rich.

Ithaka gave you the marvelous journey.
Without her you wouldn't have set out.
She has nothing left to give you now.

And if you find her poor, Ithaka won't have fooled you.
Wise as you will have become, so full of experience,
you'll have understood by then what these Ithakas mean.

A Mind <-> Body Acquaintance

If you are expecting some deep insights on mind or body wellness here,well I exactly don't promise that.But couldn't find a more appropriate heading for the wholesome experience that I had.The place was B&J clinic,Chennai.Stepping out of the elevator on floor 3,pleasant & a merry mood dissolves the mind almost instantaneously in good melodies that the radio spills.Though occasionally it sounds like maternity ward with some loud cries of nerve twists & muscle triggers,ambience was much pleasant to ask for more.There was an urge to go back everyday to get well soon.Such was the magic of that place, I still believe.It was in destiny to revisit bone,muscle & nerve connections in my body right there,in a whole new feel.Doctor visits,ejection of huge cash in to their treasure boxes,yet no satisfied results.Not uncommon these days,to hear from medically ignorant folks like us.Contrary to all this,I had an holistic experience there replenishing my mind,body & soul in the most simplest way from one of the best hands.

It was day 1.Honestly with no big hopes,I handed my OP card to a physio there.The problem identified was a block of bone needed a fix in to it's original slot which was found displaced mildly.Almost like a lorry off it's track slightly, he simplified.Though not from the medical stream,my knowledge of biology until class12 failed to kick start ,blocking me from visualizing how could this be done on my knee without a cut open kinds.The treatment was to happen for the subsequent weeks until recovery.

The physio got in to action from the very next day.He left me in astonishment each following day,leaving me spell bound watching him passionately fix my bone in it's slot at the same time educating me on the do's & don'ts of this eternally perishable body.I felt remarkable changes from day 3 itself,which is when our conversations began to voice our minds.I have had so many misconceptions about my own body in particular & human body in general in spite of my regular readings on health & fitness.Each day he enlightened me with some amazing actions & adaptations of human body.There is so much to do with the mind than with the body,he made me realise.He taught me the technique of applying mind during a body workout,the results of which were simply mind blowing.He told me once, a workout even with a slight distracted mind can end up targeting the wrong muscle in the body.So he would applaud for simple correct efforts,which was definitely an inspiration at every stage.He confirmed more than half the ortho surgeries happening in the city hospitals can easily be avoided if doctors believe in good physiotherapists.Unfortunately lack of confidence in the existence of good physios in some challenging cases & a strong belief in their own mastered surgical art adds up the count of ortho surgeries happening everyday,he opened up once.

The wish for a quick & steady recovery was more for this physio whose hands worked magic than me as a fearful patient, at times.Everyday he thoroughly enjoyed his play over delicate invisible objects like bones & joints with at most care,serious caution & his inherent passion.He made sure it's just not a physio - patient interaction.He enquired on the where abouts of each person on whom he worked his magic.He said it's a way to connect to his patients to heal them well.In that way our chemistry was just perfect,I felt.

Being open minded,willingness to help people, a sound knowledge in his profession, zest to fix injuries, urge to care with personalized attention & a wish to heal his patients didn't seem like ordinary qualities of this hand picked physio, by god, for my quick recovery.His was a telling tale of an upcoming physio who has a bright & a blessed future awaiting his door steps in the coming years. This three year experienced pro also showed everybody out there ,the way to go.Compliment him,he simply loves to pass on the credit to his co therapists for whom he has great admiration, in a humble self depreciating tone, recalling his journey from a suburb to city,at times.

The therapy employed simple everyday insignificant objects like bags,balls,bands & wands to strengthen & improve a specific part of the body in significant ways.What a stream of science,it made me wonder.Unlike the shabby delicate external wounds,physiotherapy is to do much with invisible internal injuries.Though no blood by sight,bones seem to be their core fight (oh,that's from the awe fully blunt poet inside me).

A world away from all this,being bitten by the herd syndrome for having chosen my profession, finally I was left with no choice but to ignore the benefits of a good conceptual weekly body workout and it's awesome benefits, all these years.My physio elucidated how important an occasional stretch is,what a simple resistant exercise can do,why deep breaths are essential & what sipping water frequently does, in an otherwise mundane,stress built life of a core IT Pro.Recently I read a health quote which said,those who cannot find time for regular fitness,will soon have to find time for illness.My piece of advice to my own self will be, to make time for fitness amidst importantly appearing unimportant activities.Having said that, only I know how difficult it is to find this small measure of time everyday to sync up the mind with body.

A lady about 75 years,whom i befriended while there gave me a piece of advice which was more than a thoughtful timely gift.She walked up to me one day quite cheerfully,with her replaced knees and said,'Remember my young lady,at any time in your life don't ever become flabby,which is the worst struggle against yourself '.Quite true ,for having battled against my flabs myself in the recent past years.In a random attempt I once imbibed, human soul as a complex manifestation of one's mind+body during a life time & beyond.In simplest way,a fit body together with an unclogged mind paves way to a pleasant soul.(No doubt the vice-versa is true as well, which I might rediscover & etch somewhere when I wander as a jobless soul) .Back to life,doesn't matter if you are a physio, a plumber or a programmer,relishing simple earthly joys in the mind, engulfed in one's healthy body is just priceless,I realized.Can there be a more blessing than this ?

Before the treatment ended,he brought my lorry back on track.Finally with my pain relieved & profession revealed, my physio taxed a bill of 6k for the whole bone mending & fixing program.But for having obtained value for every single penny I spent there,I had no regrets.But my physio had a slight sigh & a little big eye on the huge salaries that my entire community of cyber cooleys draw every month.In three fortnights,having spent time closely with my physio & few of his eminent subordinates,I only realised the amount of blessings banked by them for relieving millions of pains over multiple months,though they don't mint little extra money like us.On the contrary,being a couch potato all day long in some wrong body postures,consuming mindless cups of caffeine,building up the good for nothing stress & refusing to take even few deep breaths,I just wondered with all the money banked by us month after month,without much thought & time for either simple pleasures or some long term health & fitness plans,where are we seriously heading to?.I just had one thing to tell my sighing physio 'The grass is always greener on the other side', stretching my quadriceps, pondering the simple mind <->body experience that happened in me during our rendezvous.

Did slumdog make us dumb dogs?

Oh,now don't fume on this title, please. I really want to know if it's true. From the hands of a British director what took shape from an Indian plot & cast, finally won an American award. At the end of the day slumdog is just the summation of these. But we hyped it so much that watching the movie became less significant than watching it's terrific reviews,trailers, debates and fights for more than a month now. From various angles cracked by media & journals in bits and pieces across various news streams,i would like to ponder again by asking ,did slumdog really make us dumb dogs, for a reaffirmation.

Didn't we act so dumb by sulking on the very name of the movie?.Our anger and resentment burst out more for the movie name revealing doggy attitude with which we personify the animal in our minds than for seeing such sorry but true images of India. As someone pointed out, is an image more important than true living conditions ?How long do we want to see stories with posh Indian houses & faces. At least slumdog wasn't named with any intention with which we imbibe the title. And it had a much deeper and a strong message conveying the World & India. Don't you think what Karan Johar didn't do in his movies was done by Danny Boyle ?Shouldn't we pick up the thread from somewhere to disentangle it.?Atleast should we hate Boyle for this ?

The movie made us dumb by spreading viral emotions. We jumped to conclusions saying how could a foreign director shoot us back with a movie like this. In spite of growing beyond a 100 crore brain pool bound by a nation,none of us could even collectively come up with a working plan to eradicate or at least alleviate such sorry basic living conditions of millions which still is multiplying everyday,across the country. If i were to understand my fellow Indian minds from an emotional angle, if bringing slums of daravi in the maximum city of India to the limelight for non feel good reasons hurt them,did any of the money laden Indian or a Mumbai's big shot ever choose to make a 0.0000001 % difference to the living condition of a single slum dweller and his family in a significant way ? At least Danny Boyle felt the need to give back from his profits which he didn't have to.

At last they made us dumb struck by crediting two Indian talents behind the movie with some believed to be prestigious awards, across the world. Did we cease to celebrate this ?Or did we stop ourselves from being so proud the very moment, two Indians gripped the until now untouched solid mass of gold, from this land?.Are we telling ourselves that talent in India deserves a global recognition but poverty in the same country deserves just millions of blind eyes & no pair hands to act on ?

The Forbidden Kitchen

For a soup starting, you might want to know two things during the due course of this write-up.One – who Kylie Kwong originally is.Well though I take the liberty of presuming you know who she is, just in case you don’t, can you set a reminder on ‘travel & living’ in your television to watch the Kylie Kwong show very next time it's featured. Two – This write-up is not on her but about my In-house Kylie Kwong.For having read In-house,it's very natural for you to have assumed that it's about either of the damsel's at my home but as a disappointing revelation, it’s my dad. Mm ...this write-up is serving me as a frying pan to sprout all that's stacked in, on my in-house Kylie Kwong.

It all started years back, like a kind gentleman who gave his sweet wife a helping hand at the kitchen during few needy hours. Be it making a simple omelet for the kids or scooping out idllis in to a hot pack. Slowly he took over the kitchen during weekends, sometimes trying his hand all three times a day. Ignorantly we began to be the victims of his stints at the kitchen table. When he was a tyro, his so called creative dishes like oil less bonda & nutty gritty upma (full of awful combinations of non bendable nuts than heaps of sooji itself) were tested on us ruthlessly.Honestly we weren't realizing what we were slipping in to.'What a wonderfully understanding man to whom you are married'have heard many say this to the deserving lady, not knowing what we all really underwent. In the hustle-and-bustle of those busy growing up years, it was great having something ready to eat, at the very mention of hunger pangs at work. He pride fully played the role of an instant chef to all three of us deriving dishes out of no where. Again years rolled by when one day I realized it's this very man behind my inability to even make a decent cup of tea. During my little leisure hours at home, whenever I look forward to try something at the kitchen, I already find him chopping and stirring something in his culinary lab. I simply joined the cookery class in my junior college when I had an optional elective, the only way that was left to kick start my culinary skill.Due to lack of opportunities and a lab space to experiment and learn during those zestful years, I cannot honestly claim myself as a good cook even today. No one might know my real story behind the forbidden kitchen. After graduation I left home, spent years as paying guest at another home & my story of denied cooking opportunities continued further.During this time, back at home there came a point when mom was advised not to strain by standing even for those continuous minutes that was required in the kitchen. Which is when the Kylie Kwong at home was literally born, I presume. So the entire kitchen came under his complete kingdom. Initially we mistakenly pitied him for having to undergo this. He received accolades from every kith n kin for juggling this extra ball in his life when he could have found easy alternatives. But slowly we all were getting the signs.

Apart from being a man of near perfectionist,his interest in following current affairs,comprehending precise reason behind every rise and fall in stock market and being a wealth of information to anyone, anytime on anything and everything, his ardent passion for Chinese kooking and the urge to possess a fully equipped gadget kitchen, surfaced evidently. The best chef's cookery shows in the television were handpicked & been watched without fail. During his preliminary stages in the kitchen it was Mallika Badrinath.A graduation happened when he was fantasizing Sanjeev Kapoor. Then suddenly in the recent years he advanced with his new found guru Kylie Kwong. You can just find joy bubbling on his face at the very mention of her name.There is no question of missing her kookery shows come what may. He makes careful observations on every cookery tip that spills out of her mouth. May be Kwong is dad's twin or master soul, it set me thinking. The remote tightly clutched signaled that nothing else could even be thought of watched at those hours. While dad virtually lives in the world of 'Kylie Kwong & her kooking' during her shows, moms eyes stay focused only on him and his expressions.Gradually off Kylie Kwong shows we saw her in him. Minutes after KK's kooking ends on TV, he energizes himself to be the KK in kitchen. He pounds garlic with the same zest, chops veggies in the same style and sprinkles spices just like her.Gradually he kick started kooking his own Kwong kind of food, half cooked, half watery, half Indian, half Chinese, half edible & the rest absolutely inedible. These days whether what he cooks is Chinese or Indian, his Chinese herbs & spices are ubiquitous. And those awful soups that he learnt from Kwong.Oh my Chinese god … I feel a puking sensation churning in my stomach at the very mention of it.

The kitchen too underwent a gradual revamp as per KK’s weekly suggestions and tips. There was this same kind of mini glass jars cloning itself in an alarming rate on the kitchen shelves. Then these puzzling Chinese herbs one after the other found their entry in those jars. Some puzzling & others awfully aromatic. From where and when he fetches them, we really don't know. Then the oil cans underwent a super rich look with pods of garlic and red chillies soaked in them. Then the spoons, some interestingly shaped vessels & most importantly, the knives. Now we have at least 10 different varieties of knives at home. One for the huge kinds like watermelon n pumpkin, the handy flat ones for meat and fish, thin one for onions & tomatoes, cross one for dicing vegetables,sleek one for slicing them and another one for chopping them finely. For years many we lived without a peeler. We now have one from US, one from Far East & one from local Chinese market. Scissors to cut & curl the corianders and curry leaves. A sharp one, a blunt one, a semi sharp and a semi blunt as if catering to the needs of a wedding kitchen. You know, anyone from abroad visiting home have no confusion on what to pick for dad. It will be some latest kitchen gadget or an accessory. The gift unwrapping moment will definitely be his moment of ecstasy. He still gets international additions in the kitchen this way.He decided that our kitchen too, had the essential of essentials as per Kwong by exactly replicating what he saw in her Kitchen. Following that the kitchen obtained a face lift with newly bought microwave, instant juice blender, silent coffee blender, feather touch hand mixer, egg poacher, egg beater, variety of ladles in new shapes n sizes, colorful frying pans, zodiac coffee mugs, trendy glass bowls, airtight containers, vodka martini glasses(though we are all purely nonvodka folks), variety of strainers, handy lemon squeezer, elegant measuring jars, the handy mortar & it’s complementary pestle, auto ignition stove and this list goes endless.Then the must have stocks in the kitchen – again as per Kwong, I presume, like the colorful Chinese sauces, mashed potato powder, multiple flavors of brown & green teas, handy herbs,nourishing nuts and plenty of super secret spices half of which I bet has nothing to do in an otherwise bland cooking south Indian home like mine.

ooff....nobody at home is spared of his kooking. Come weekends still he continues with his signature dishes. Needless to say, these days its tailor made Chinese for some pitiable Indians at home. For many weekends now, it's been the same huge thick soupy vegetable stocks in which soaked, all left over veggies in fridge, stirred in to the biggest bowl at home, for some of which mom who would have had plans in the coming week. Keeping which crowd he prepares in such huge quantity week after week, god only knows. When it’s aromatically Indian, the taste definitely will have his Chinese touch. And during weekends when it’s aromatically Chinese, we can’t blindly bet on an Indian taste. We are left with no choice but to aid finishing it by the end of every weekend. Otherwise, the signature dish will be secretly refrigerated in its upper deck and will show up the following weekend for the kind of rich ingredients and flavors that had gone in.Mom lost her say longtime back when it comes to her now forbidden kitchen. And so did I. Only during those rare occurrences when he isn’t home during weekends, mom makes some authentic south Indian delicacy for me. Hands down she deserves a place in heaven just for this. When her man returns home on such days, his tempting hands try tarnishing such authentic food with his KK recommended spices to leave them inauthentic, in his new found style. Interesting to dad but insulting to mom sometimes my neighbors aware of his regular weekend signature dishes, would plan to take a portion of it to get rid of their weekend cooking plans. And the post week, they would peep in to applaud him for his effort. Mom would feel like dashing herself against one of that kitchen accessory. Since every atom in the kitchen is his favorite, he is so possessive about even a box or a cup lent to the neighbor. Here comes mom’s embarrassing moments when she has to track these missing items just for him.

Looks like i have revealed too many things about mommy's man.On her humble request, am letting the curtain down here but not without mentioning our Mango phobic memories. When I was in sixth grade, once he had a compulsive urge to make a bottle of mango pickle himself even without a tip from anyone around. His sis, a pickle expert in the family too was ignored from consulting. On a bright sunny Saturday morning, he decided to drop us all in schools and was on his mission - buying mangoes aptly for his pickle proceedings. To his delight since the mangoes were aptly ripe for pickling, he landed home with a tub full of mangoes. They were washed,sliced and pickled finally. To his disaster surprise he realized that he added salt to his generosity.Nothing could be done since the pickles were in huge portions bottled and found all over the kitchen. Mom instructed us to consume curd rice - salt + dad's disaster pickle for the whole summer vacation. At the end of vacation only ten percent of the pickle got over. We were the perfect victims of that disaster pickle until the next summer vacation. During this time, mausi visited us to stay for a fortnight. This pickle story came to her notice and she recommended adding some more mangoes, in a way by adding salt to our existing injurious mangoes. We lived with this disastrous pickle for another year. During the third summer vacation, when the pickle tasted decent enough as a pickle, mom clicked on this idea of gifting everybody who visited home, a bottle of his disaster pickle. You know we lived with this pickle for almost three full years. If you ask me, until now these ‘not so easy to forget’ pickle episode had been his best worst experiment on us.

Just in case you feel all this might be a fictitious exaggeration,you definitely got to be home for a weekend to risk your taste buds at least once. These days while dining outside with friends,I can’t get much wilder at the very mention of some one suggesting a Chinese hangout.Oops this isn't getting better ... let me sign-off but with a small suggestive note for you. After all this if you plan to drop by for a lunch or dinner at my place, specially on a weekend,u have a bravery award waiting from this house of kk, though not from kk himself.

U've got a mail Mr white tiger

Good Evening Mr.White Tiger,

All you must right away know from me is you ought to be privileged enough receiving this note since I don't write back to every author whose book I read. And as a matter of fact I haven't completed most of the books that I began reading especially books written by, one Ms Roy & another by Ms Sai which are still lying in my bookshelf with bookmarks on some unable-to-proceed pages, if you like me to draw some parallel comparisons. But that was not the case with your book Mr. WT. Reading 30 pages everyday for 10 roller coaster days were like gulping down tequila-shot-after-shot each day from a fully refrigerated bottle. Apart from your book, the three other books whose last page felt my hands on them until now were the ones written by our IIT-IIM author. Thought you would just like to know.

Now that you won the Man Booker prize, your book would sell in millions and you would already be counting money in zillions. Still having been impressed by your unique style of writing I would suggest all my friends to read this book, which might add few millionths to your existing zillions.And I promise I shall not claim any share from those zillions. You can have them all for yourself.

The next sets of things you ought to know from me are these.Since I received few hints in the beginning that the book is going to throw some light on entrepreneurship I read each page with some anticipation to receive useful pointers on the same. But all I had was disappointment since I had nothing to take away from your story as a useful tip, just in case I start something on my own someday. As one of the true reader of your first book I believe I have all the right to say this to you Mr. WT. However you justify, the path you took to become a successful entrepreneur is just not appreciable Mr. WT.I am still ok for not getting useful pointers from your story. But I must admit, I was hooked to your newly invented style of writing throughout the whole book which was just awesome. As a personal attempt, thought would try my hand in your style by writing this small note to you.

Precisely, honestly & most importantly, boldly at the same time innocently the way you have portrayed the inauthentic India to the whole world receives a big round of applause especially from people who see the same India as you did for holding torch on their lives through your book but I am afraid to say that you made a small mistake Mr. WT by writing it in a language which most of them unlike you and me cannot even comprehend, just in case if I was ready to read out to them. But you don't have to worry about it Mr. WT. I already narrated this story written by you to my maid and she did appreciate you for your work on this book.She will do her best to spread this by word of mouth, a very powerful medium even these days, she feels.

One thing which left me little lurched was, being a chauffeur you called yourself a technology driver. If you want to be called that way, all I know for sure is how bad the young women sitting two cubicles away from my desk in the office who works exclusively on windows driver technology would feel. But then for a good job done by you I think I should be able to handle her just in case she shares her feelings on this.

Now that you are in the limelight, you would be receiving millions of accolades and may be few millionths of brickbats from across the world. I don't expect you to be reading my note for long since it's time for you to be basking in your own glory of success. Btw even if you hadn't noticed I truly acknowledge this newly acquired writing style is inherited from you. I just have one last thing to say to you Mr. WT which I know will make you happy for sure.When I happen to reach the end of this book, the subtly sleeping tigress in me awakened with a budding spirit of entrepreneurship through many powerful sentences of yours. The credit goes to you Mr. WT. And my many thanks to you for this.Alright, will write to you someday when I become a full fledged white tigress, truly licensed to celebrate the spirit of Entrepreneurship.Until then

with your ferocious blessings
a budding white tigress cub
bangalore17

Ideal Idllys

Perhaps I don't know any South Indian home where they don't relish home made rice pancakes.What can be more divine than a super soft steaming idlly accompanying some freshly ground hot chutney.But in how many homes does the idllys live up to it's consistent shape,size and texture all the time.We might be ready to compromise on the shape & size but not on the soft texture,I know.Experience with an hard idlly could never make you turn back to it for a life time.

Some of the prominently liked idllys are plain idlly,kanchevaram idlly,carrot cashew idlly,ghee idlly & rava idlly.If the classification is based on size, then we have 14 idllys,Plate idllys,cup idllys & ofcourse the normal idllys.Then the sambar idllys-the most divine form of idlly for some.But i love it with the podi than with chutney or sambar.I grew up eating idlly with podi week after week from times memorable.And still the love hasn't diminished a bit.Hot idllys marinated in a combo of chilly powder+gingely oil leaves a pure magic on the tongue.The podi again has it's own set of classifications.Finely ground brown chillies with pods of garlic and salt, is one.Coarsely ground podi made of some extra urad dhal is another.What so ever , there is nothing like hot tender soft idllys with accompaniments of your choice.

If there are leftovers after a bunch of hours,thatz when i like it the most.The idllys can undergo a smooth supple transition to what we call the Idlly upma.Itz one of my favourite item for an hungry everning.By just tossing the torn pieces of leftover idllys under fire with handful of chopped onions,pounded garlic, a stem of curry leaves , few red chillies,urad dal & a spoon of oil,anyone can create a magic with the otherwise easily abandoned cold,rough idllys.

I had once been to this restaurant named - Murugan Idlly Shop,ironically when i was in a place outside the country.But they have prominent outlets in Chennai itself. The name was catchy and tempting my taste buds while I looked forward for some authentic idllys.My cousin did more justice to the money she spent in dollars for each relishing idlly that i consumed.Came the idllys after an order time of less than 5 minutes,small in size,pure white in shade and hot in a plate.They served all the possibly coexisting accompaniments but being a voracious podi lover, i went for it bravely.

Every attempt to unite those mouth melting idllys with podi+gingely oil was worth the dollar each idlly costed.Just like a cotton candy, at the very touch and a mild pull, the idllys found it's destined path from my hand to mouth in repeated successions until i was done with every single grain on my plate.That was one of the divine supper in my life,until now.The podi there however had a secret ingredient - ground till with added brown chillies,i believe.If you are an idlly aficionado like me,in Things to do before u die list you ought to include this -try eating an idlly there if not in a South Indian home like mine.Worth the money & taste.Ofcourse if u come home sometime for this feast,we don't charge.Itz free.

Radz Wedding

On that Sunday morning mommy disrupted my dream sequence while I was in a deserted island by sprinkling some jalam on my face which eventually dragged me out of bed & got me under the shower.Dressed like one of those bright looking homely damsel,all for Radz wedding,whom I initially thought I didn’t know.It was happening in the neighborhood wedding hall.Sulking from the moment I woke up, swallowing those big fat idllis served by dad,me and mommy stepped out to reach for an auto. While watching TV the previous day, I overheard mom’s side of conversation over the phone from which I could make out that few of her friends were canceling their sunday appointments just to catch up in that wedding.

‘Who is this Radha ma & whom is she marrying to ma’, I should have bothered to ask her when my inquisitive quotient preempted the brain while sat bundled in auto.I didn’t for a simple reason that I wanted to follow her for once like an innocent lamb without cross questions for all little time that I spend with her in a month.The auto stopped right outside the wedding hall. Strangely sandals and shoes mounted in huge heaps caught my eyes. Mommy checked if I wore the gold bangles that she handed me when I just stepped out after my cold shower. Fortunately I did, to avoid another suprabatham session during the mid day.The scene of guys clad in white silk dhoti with wrist wrapped in floral strings trying to figure out where they could offload those strings confirmed that we headed to the right place.Next to me there was this board embedded in a bed of marigold florals from which red roses stood bloomed as ‘Radha weds Krishna’. Mm.. what a match between this couple,I felt. Stepping in we stumbled upon Lochani miss(Mommy’s colleague + friend + occasional guide + our local neighbour) who displaying her usual 3 inch standard smile. ‘Miss correct timeku vandhingha’, she acknowledged. And they were enquiring about the other missing mrs & miss(s) while I caught a glimpse of the place we headed.All I could see were mamas on one side and mamis on the other with a bifurcation in between. But children were found allover. Most Mamis flashed in gold & silk. Suddenly an hand on my shoulder. I turned back. It was Lakshmi miss I suppose. ‘Miss edhu unga ponna ’(Miss, Is this ur daughter ?) she was scanning me all over. ‘Bangalorela irukkae nu neku theriyum.Enna panra ni ,yaroda iruka,enna vaisaraadhu ippo’(I know u are in Bangalore. What do u do, with whom are u there, whatz ur age right now) bulleting me with her questions like the one below a reading comprehension passage. I answered them in the same sequence gripping the fact that I can’t expect mommy for my immediate rescue. The session with Lakshmi miss ended finally when she plucked a portion of my cheek and fed in to her lips with a pucccch sound.Mommy had moved away from me by yards now, nodding her head in sync with the blahblah blaahs of Lochani miss. I went near them. Another display of 3 inch standard smile from Lochani miss.’Yyen miss nikaringaa … vaanga anga edam irukku parungoo.Vaa maa chellam’(y r u standing miss, come c therez place.Come ma dear) she clutched my hand. Once resting in the corner pointed … I actually came in to my senses.Mannnnnnnnn …. Radha was Radha & Krishna was Krishna themselves. Oh my god! I didn’t realize that I was attending a rewedding of a celestial couple on earth. They were performing the ritual of uniting an already united couple who live in heaven.

A group of oldies were standing near Rad’s idol and some near Kris’s. However the idols were separated initially to indicate that they were still singles. A series of funny rituals were on the go like carrying the bride in the palanquin along the bifurcation. Then popping Rad’s idol to show her a glimpse of her man (quite funny). Seeing which Kris folks hid Kris’s face. Then Radz folks pulled her pallu across her face to indicate that she was feeling shy. Floral strings were exchanged between groom and bride’s folks. Kids carried mud pots of clay containing a multigrain germination with shoots, three times around the idols. Then a new outfit for Rad from Kris side. Further to that Rad had a revamped look, completely decorated with new gold rings, bangles, anklets and few other engmatic jewelery pieces all over. A kiddo carried a lamp invited Kris to Rad’s place.Kris rode in the palanquin & reached Rad’s place. Rad’s people felt shy seeing men carrying Kris.They played some floral ball exchange games ….The whole hall was chanting rythms of ‘Jaisree Radha Nanda Gopala’ in a wide range of pitches depending on the importance of the event that happened between the idols. And the whole crowd followed the sequence of events anxiously chanting similar rythms giving a credibly serious ceremonial look .For a minute, it was quite refreshing from inside to spectate this wedding from the otherwise mundane cycle of comps-> cubes -> coffees. I was drawn in to these events in no time and was waiting to witness the crucial climax of Kris tying knot around Rad’s neck so that we could go back home soon for lunch. I asked mommy ‘how will Kris tie the knot now ma ?’.She took her eyes off the events in progress and said ‘wait & watch’. Couldn’t want tojump in any conclusion by predicting that some homosapien will tie those knots around Radz neck on behalf of Kris. The climax arrived. Wedding hall suddenly gripped total silence when there was a screen spread across the stage hiding the idols behind, with a pin drop silence. While impatiently waiting for few minutes, mamas & mamis were constantly in and out, playing hide and seek around the screen stacking up my curiosity.

When the screen was flung open, Kris was placed next to Rad & Rad all of a sudden had it(her license)displayed around her neck.Like a video unfrozen from a pause button,the music again broke the silence to highlight the fact that they lost their bachelors degree on earth now. To acknowledge the same, we were made to throw a handful of raw rice & rose petals soaked in turmeric on the united idols. And so did us to conclude the fancy wedding.Lochani miss was a great helping hand to bride’s folks in fetching bride’s attires from time to time projecting her diamond pendant which went in to the folds of her sari every one minute. Seeing mommy waving at her, she disappeared from the stage and reappeared near mom. ‘Miss kalyana sapadu ready, pongaa miss.Sapadu epdinu aprama solunga.Ellam namba pyyan thaaan’.Oh Kris ... I never knew from when Lochani miss’s son quit his dental practice and joined catering sector specializing in wedding food.

When mom disclosed that she’s already cooked lunch for us at home, Lochani miss was disappointed to hear the same. Anyways she let us go by stuffing two packets of coconut & beetle leaves in our hands. And …. and a bottle of saemiya payasam secretly to mom.‘Epdiyum oru kalyanama?.Aadhuku nan vera enga poromnae therinjika venamnu vera ponaenaa ?’ (A wedding like this?For this I went without wanting to know where i was going? )ooff !When we reached home, looked like dad had no exact clue of where we had been. So he asked me ‘Enga poninga ma’ (where did u both go ma?) Mein nae kaha ‘Radz Wedding,dad’. ’Weddingaa ?’ dad was astonished the way I was at Radz wedding, when mom was found tasting that secretly handed saemiya payasam.

Project CRIMAN

Mmm... post lion city trip,I gathered a whole new insight in to managing my micro finance & savings. This new outlook on figures printed in currencies wasn’t there in me before.At least three out of every 10 penny that I spent didn’t enjoy their true worth,I felt.And the fact that I spent more than usual money when compared to my regular monthly expenditure because of my trip,I opted to be tight fisted for next couple of months to strike a balance in my savings account.Suddenly the sense of value for money was surging in me like never before.So I began this project naming it ‘Piloting Criman’.Before tossing a rupee out of my pocket I asked myself twice if I should let this currency go.If I strongly felt yes then I would simply let it go. Apart from paying my rent & mobile bill,I was putting every other thing on hold or procrastinated it as long as I could.Hey hey ... don't jump in to a conclusion that - me a miser.Am actually not one. Know what ?it was like a sneak peek in to the whole new world of being a miser. Oops should I say being simple?Being in Silicon Valley of India,one knows how difficult is it to retain an extra penny in the pocket until the month end.Anything and everything that’s labeled as fun or frolic comes with a unique exorbitant price tag Am unable to believe those huge shopping malls as a place to chill out & relax.It only appears to me as a two monstrous money scooping malls.One can easily make all hard earned bucks vanish in less than a mad second in a moment of tempting joy, being there.Only to realize later that we could have very well lived without it.Not worth, I realized.

Come weekends.... I prefer to be under the blanket these days, the whole 48 hrs rather than stepping out even a lane away.The money in the pocket doesn’t seem to be very happy staying in its place.If saving is the only agenda then we tend to miss colorful quotients of having fun & sometimes some good moments that’s stays as residue in this mission of spending money like water.What to do ?Too much of saving and not spending at all. And too much of spending and no savings in all.Ooffff ! Both happen to be lose –lose situations.I was revealing to dad some months ack about my ‘Penny wise - pound foolish’ attitude.I would save and save on the few hundreds that I draw from the ATM but was stupidly generous to swipe my card that scooped out huge money invisibly.Oh fo ! what am I up to’suddenly a bulb glowed on the top floor, recently.So this CRIMAN project was born as my brain child. I chose to keep myself away from these shopping malls for a couple of months at least until the year ends. So when the month began all weekends at home reading newspaper for long hours, relaxed ablution,washing clothes to my best, cleaning cupboards, watering plants, unwinding the day with some soft music, gripping a good book to end the day & to catch some really good sleep.

Come weekdays, am happy for reasons many. Almost the whole day in office and free googling on anything & everything on the mind. And no penny for any phone calls.U know,am paid a four digit wage everyday for just googling & giggling ,sometimes.Sometimes for forwarding few critical mails too.Then to reach home late evening, have supper & doze offff.Wow! five full days of great savings each week.To buy a single missing grocery, let me tell you visiting Fabmall & Nilgiris are not the best options on earth unlike my earlier assumptions.All under one roof is an agreeable fact.But bringing home a bill that contains units of tempted items more than the essentials can't b the price that one can pay for visiting all under one roof malls. Isn’t it ?.The other day a team mate of mine offered a help to book a train ticket online from his pc in the office. So there was a page where I had to enter my bank’s credentials for an automatic money detection. Being not so sure of the next immediate page to be displayed,I enquired him. He said 'Nothing to worry. Your account balance will not be displayed’.

Scanning each others thought we chuckled. Once the ticket booking procedure was over,he asked me innocently 'How you able to save this meejj maany’. In fact he was spell bound knowing my account balance displayed at some corner of the main transaction page which I foolishly missed out.He revealed to me a week later that I became his source of inspiration to save money from that very moment which in turn inspired me to save more.He listed that he stopped visiting his regular weekend destination - Balaji Bar just because of me.Maa use to say - people who spend less water will spend less money.Actually very true, I discovered.Though my pilot attempt on CRIMAN project is coming to end in a week’s time, I realized that I was only enjoying this process of spending less & saving more.And that true happiness doesn’t dwell in the act of spending more money or hanging out but on those priceless solitary moments being at home.An interesting book costing one hundred bucks did spill more joy than a three hour movie costing five hundred bucks.And that a home cooked meal stands more satisfying than a candle lit dinner shelling out around a K in the dim light.And the coziness in wearing a bargained on the platform sweater doesn’t seem to derive from the newly bought branded jacket.Simply a sweet smile costing zero bucks does spread more happiness & joy in unseen ways, I realized.During this pilot attempt I was inspired by a distant bro who lives in the same city of mine earning in lakhs every month,chose to travel only by 2nd class during any train journey of his for the straight fact that he believed only in simplicity.And earning in lakhs did not change him & his life style in any way.There were so many interesting learning that came out of this CRIMAN attempt. And know what? I managed to save around a K :) in these two months time from 1/3rd of my wages that I drew out each month. And more surprises stood @ the end of this pilot attempt - a couple of my colleagues were crazy about the company’s jerkin that they gave us a year and a half back, fortunately when they had not joined. I got in to this surprising deal of a K for my old jerkin.I couldn’t believe it.Want to know where these are going in to?The piggy bank that Rohit promised me.Rohit you are getting me one to save these, right?

Moral - CRIMAN was a fantastic pilot attempt.Since I loved saving every penny out of it, am engaging in it as a DF(dedicated facility) from the new year.I know I still have a long way to go in this CMS project of mine & this is just the beginning.You just read a tyro’s write up on Crisis Management Simulation.

Pasir Ris Theory

Zooming boxes zipped in silence in to Pasir Ris MRT (Mass Rapid Transit). Pasir Ris is the last destination that people in this lion city can ever reach via the green line starting from Boon Lay, connecting its east -west corners.LED boards at MRT read accurately the countdown for arrival of trains.Penetrating Pasir Ris Library in floor 3 at Pasir Ris mall, in a minute’s time I went aphonic gazing at the integrally automated library & the huge collection of books on exhaustive categories at display there. My pash for books raptured that very minute. We were alike I felt, containing volumes of words inside but a streak of folded silence for the onlookers. On stepping out, silence still remained frozen in our minds. We exchanged no words. She stood beside, escorting me all the time until I was with her, with million thoughts crossing her mind in series. Life was silently pleasant that very minute waiting to experience another journey in the lap of luxury, by MRT, to get back home in simei.

I looked at her. Thoughts coiled into the past … I knew how hard she struggled until a couple of years back shuttling between her township & city right from her college days until she settled as a mentor in one of the city colleges.Her day dawned with a demanding bus journey till the city border. And then a drudging train journey in those suburban trains to reach the city junction, from where another local train to reach her city college on time. And back home everyday all the way to complete her assignments, demo preps, record works & to add meaning in her partially deserted parent’s life. She inducted many minds in her township by mentoring them in quantum ways in her subject of expertise everyday on reaching home back.She was not one of those cribbing babes, for traveling so far everyday. She added new colors in to her own life by taking new challenges at every new turn in those years. It all stood as bright feathers in her cap of victory.Oofff ... at last her struggle vanished like a dry ice in hand. She locked eyes with me dragging herself away from her rushing thoughts & smiled.

The train arrived in silence by then. When it stopped, the glass doors opened to offload & upload passengers. All the time the glass doors pointed right in front of the arrow painted yellow on the floor at the platform. No hassles no where. People just walked in straight before the doors shut themselves.From transit to transit the city stood more colorful. Obeying rules ran in their blood from birth. None touched none. None spoke to none. None looked at none. They believed to live their solitary e-lives even when amidst the crowd - typing messages, playing games, checking mails, tuning music on their ears, surfing net but never bothered to scan even the most stunning damsel (of their own breed ) who stood beside.They all looked alike. Fair like flour & flat like a four. They were all the same to my eyes. For a moment, where am I ? a prompt in the mind. A world far away from mine I realized. In intrinsic wrapped silence,sound of train zipping in and out of tunnels resonated in my drums.We dissolved the silence that we gripped in Pasir Ris when the train offloaded us back in Simei.

Playing Pranks

Rohit is my bessssss friend @ work place. The company hired us in the same quarter when we freshly stepped out of college.We worked in the same team closely, for long, amidst other seniors, on an assignment from a leading news agency in the world. Innocence had a bright stamp on his face, I felt initially. We hardly knew each other then.Days rolled by, when we stumbled upon the topic of crushes one day, while sipping coffee in a near by café. He chose to reveal on his crushes – explaining to me right from his puppy crush to his peppy crush that he had. I was taken aback when he revealed his outstanding crush count. If he meets them all one by one in a month’s time, still he would meet each 12 times in a year. Even I’ve had crushes – one in high school, another one in junior college & another one during my graduation. All vaporized like camphor cubes now.
Me: But your count seem to be alarming, buddy.
Rohit: I know daa… I got to wind up soon.
Months passed by. Now we are in different teams, working with different people. Yesterday, we happen to leave office at the same time. On the way home, what started as a mild drizzle, progressed as little heavy showers.To break the silence amidst cold winds, I started …
Me: Howz life buddy?
Rohit: Sighingly - Am happy that work is keeping me on my toes but then u c this CC of mine doesn’t want to settle for any less figures I guess.
There was a pause. Being his best buddy I thought I should give him my piece of mind on that.
Me: Buddy this isn’t the time for all this. You are not in your teens to dwell on this anymore.U got to realize that u will soon hold responsibilities beyond your age and will be expected to challenge the limits soon. Are you really behind it. Think again….
Rohit: I know daa …I know. I decided firmly this time. I know what to do now.
Me: Whatz that buddy. Can I also know ?
Rohit: As u said, not to dwell too much on this anymore but to begin another one soon.
My eyes spotted a big Manhole kept opened on the road side.

FYPI - Thankyou god, now people know all about Rohit and his mind blowing CrushCount.With this I can now sleep peacefully.

Life is calling …

Thud! I slipped on to the floor from my bed on a weekday morning, Just woke upto realize that I had been through a terrible morning mare. It shook me to the core. The only digestible fact left was, it wasn’t a reality. My mind went blank and refused to resume to its normal state for a while.I soon finished all my morning chores and rushed to work. My legs took one step after another without any conscious effort to reach my work place. On the way, I asked myself a question. If just a dream shook me to the core for a while, how do people manage to live with the every day reality horrors in their lives ?My mind gathered various incidents wherein people have had unending list of worries squeezing their heart, bursting their brain and boiling their blood, most of the time. As per my observations the ones topping the list were – unable to maintain healthy relationships with fellow folks,handful of insufficient bucks to satisfy their family’s needs, weird health related complications, fear of the future, bad luck following indefinitely, lack of self confidence for reasons unknown and the list topples down.

Life in today’s world is undoubtedly becoming exceptionally challenging, strange,unpredictable, hectic and some times quite unrewarding too. Haven’t you wished to dump all your stacked worries & wished you could erase them forever just like how the recycle bin on you desktop works. Haven’t you felt sometimes, as if your life was falling in to pieces & you reached no where after a long struggle that came your way, standing solitary not knowing in which direction to head to & on which shoulder to lean on,though you seem to be rocking to others eyes. Have you ever felt like wanting to cry outall your woes and ask for prosperity in life so that you could see what a peaceful & pleasant life is? Ever wished to fall back on earth without any fear, expecting some safe hands to hold you like the one in MetLife ad.Its quite true that at times the loads of life snaps the strings of confidence, rupturing the delicately designed mind. Have you been through this one too?Well you are not alone. Every single person beside you is floating in their own sea of problems, rowing against all possible odds in life, looking for a shore where one could buy some peace for what ever price it demanded, wishing for their long worry list to vanish soon & waiting for the wish list to come true. Wondered why is life not treating you very kindly, at times? And for some, most of the times?I believe if you can take your eyes off from all your problems for a minute and realize profoundly, it’s all an illusion, in a way. Ultimately, you are here, neither to lose anything nor to gain anything, materialistically. Each problem that you face while on earth is only considered to be a learning experience for your maturing soul (the invisible you, which most of us fail to recognize).After all life is only a bridge towards eternity. Why grumble too much when you are just crossing a bridge towards your destination which is yet to reveal itself completely. If you can keep this in mind and shoo away all your insignificant problems in one strong realization, believe me, life is really beautiful …Look at the world that you live with a new bubbling spirit. It will mean much gripping than what you perceived earlier. After all when you visit a south Indian restaurant, have you asked only for plain dosa any time (oops ! this is not to stimulate your hunger pangsright now).Or would you be happy eating only a plain pizza base with no topping ?.’Definitely No’, right ?. It’s the same with life too.With out these illusionary menaces… do you think there would be any value to this complexly architected yet could be simply lived life? Just get going. Explore, learn & imbibe things which you wish to. Trash things which you can’t relate yourself with.Carry a light feeling about life, anytime, because it’s never a harsh game intended to ruin you. Everyday is a celebration if you wish to enjoy the occasion of life.Have you experienced this? When you were extremely happy, enjoying and cherishingevery single moment that passed by ….how time flew with its best possible speed. And on a day when nothing was going your way, how time was passing the buck to its own minutes & seconds, dragging hours like ages.Just wished to share a concept called Muga from a book that I read years back. The book says, it’s the art of practicing to live life by enjoying the present moment without thoughts of the disturbing past or the much anticipated future, all the time. Initially it was difficult. But then slowly when I started, it was quite a rewarding experience to live by the concept.When you feel your shoulders are carrying too many responsibilities, rest them until you feel energized to take them back with zest. When you feel somebody disappointed you badly, let go and learn not to make the same mistake someday when your turn comes.When you feel terribly guilty about something in life, remember that you are not worth gripping it when it had bothered you enough. If you are looking for some inspiration inlife, look at the world to get some. If you still feel tired & worn out, it’s time for you to recharge and energize ASAP.Finally, when I reached my work place, I realized that each day designed to expire with a count of 24 hours, is to be lived like a time framed expiring dream in which nothing stands worth to be psyched out.

Why worry about things that will finally stand apart as insignificant measures in this boundless & timeless universe.Be kind to people around you, however they are. Help as many poor & needy. Strive forthe best without hurting people around. Be in peace with yourself, all the time. Try to get more out of life, everyday & experience the on going magic that weaves your life. Life will definitely pay you back with its rich dividends of kindness, when the right timecomes. Now, don’t you feel Life is calling … Where are you?

With Love - Surya

The bell rang like a cacophony in my ears, simulating a last bell people ring for the most honored in funerals. ‘Oh god! itz microwave hour now’, I wailed a little louder.All of us knew it was time for Shiv to eat our brains, spitting his half micro waved ideas on the subject in his grilled english. ‘Did u finish the assignment that he gave us yesterday? ’, I asked Saran. She looked absolutely not bothered for anything in life. And gave me a ‘No’ sign with her slightly curved lips but stayed fiddling with the Reynolds pen, trying to fit it in the slit on our wooded bench.

I was little agitated with my ineffective time management in life, unable to strike a balance between my college assignments & the short term IIT course that we girls enrolled us in.All of us belonged to 3rd ECE department.We were ten out of fifteen girls who zestfully enrolled us in the course but found hard to manage things since the IIT Campus was 45 km from our college.Commuting that far and to reach back home everyday was truely tiresome & Poornima added fuel to the fire by not giving us enough attention in the course hours.Can’t blame her blindly like that. She was a single and there were boys from Anna University in our batch just a couple of years younger to her, distracting her with their ‘out of the box’ questions.Otherwise her destiny was destined to be with all white haired, 65 + IIT professors. It was uncivilized on our part to have expected it from her ,in the little time available for her to #@*&^$!.And to add salt to our injury she believed herself to be the queen of DSP lab, where she worked as a lab assistant, which was our destination too inside the IIT campus.I felt she deserved one tight slap from me before our course ended for all the mental agony that she caused us.

Shiv walked hands free in to the lecture hall. Looked like he was lost else where thought wise unlike the other days when one can find him fasting outside the door from ten minutes prior to his session,with handful of lecture notes, chalk pieces and microwave bibliographies. He entered , marked attendance, clicked his pen on to his shirt pocket and declared us free.Unexpectedly he was not in the mood to transmit his microwaves on us that day. Neither did he talk about the assignments. Strange yet surprising, it was.Never had it happened in two years of his lecture profession in our college. Not even a single minute had gone waste by either speaking a torelable English or leaving us feel serious about him and his lecture classes.'Thanks Shiv. I wanted this break',I told myself.Being a back bencher,sat quietly in my place for once staring the black and white print of my microwave text, focusing the picture of microwave producing instrument drawn as modern art. A crinkled paper ball fell on my shoulders from the left side. Unwrapped it & there was a message

'Can we bunk IIT class today &
attend the wedding reception?
What say ? '
- Anu

Oh, I realized it was Sharmi Mam’s wedding reception the same evening.She bothered to invite us all amidst little time left to get prepared for her own wedding in India. Her’s was a little interesting story.She was desperate to do her MS in the U.S. She had a not-too-bad GRE score. She was two years elder to us, just like Shiv. She worked in our college as a lecturer for less than a year teaching us insignificant subjects until she got her student visa. She went to the U.S one fine day, following her dreams just to come back in less than 3 months carrying her wedding cards printed, to invite us for the occasion of beginning her new life with a stranger in her new strange land.She was dynamic & full of life. She was just like one among us, more like a friend than a lecturer, unlike Shiv. She was rich but down to earth,made her dream come true in front of our eyes.Very social and out going. Though she never impressed the girls greatly, all the boys in our college had a corner reserved for her in their hearts. The curiosity of seeing, whom she chose to live with popped in all our minds. But then I was too tired and really wanted a break from Shiv’s assignments and poorni’s lectures.I scribbled back to Anu

' Will bunk IIT class today.
But not joining for the wedding dear'.

And threw the paper ball back at her and found her excited discussing with others on what was everybody going to wear for the wedding reception that evening. Soon every body got to see my scribbling and pulled me to the chat zone to convince me.But I was desperate in having my break for the day. My folks felt I was tough on my decision and wanted me to join them badly. After few long unconvinced thoughts, I finally gave up and agreed to join them.Ambal’s face was gleaming with joy when I said ‘yes’ and Preethi felt succeeded in making me agree to them finally.We looked at our watches. We still had 45 minutes to go. As ever, we had our hot topics to discuss and Shiv watched us from the other corner of the lecture hall. May be trying to tune his ears to our exciting topics.Since girls struggled hard to make me agree, I became the target of bullying session for the day. In those 3 years time, almost everybody in the college knew Surya was my heart throb .Vani started slowly ‘So what is your Joe chéchi telling you ehh?’(Joe was Jyothika’s pet name that we gave her and media was telling us that they were seeing each other for some time then).So to simply make me fume, Preethi added ‘U know Devi , they have signed a couple of movies together now’. Bhavani added ‘Unga alluku vera velayae illiya ?’ (does ur man have no other job or what).I know I had explained to them for the nth ime about what I felt for him’. It is very true that I like him , but it was just his on screen chemistry that am in love with. Joe is his private life. I had never felt jealous of her.

In fact once I had felt none can match well with my man other than Joe in his real life.But my Eceian folks hardly believe me. They all pitch in at once, when I finish my statements on my man( in their slang). ’Don’t lie babe. We know u must be fuming to the core watching them together on the screen. But honey, itz reality. Don’t let that affect you much. Itz all part of life ’ as if I poured out to them,expecting such crazy condolence . Crazy these girls were, once they decide to bully someone. Finally our microwave hour ended. Shiv walked out clouded in some intro<->retro<->spection.

It was a customary practice that we gathered at my house, preened & primmed ourselves before stepping out to attend any common wedding reception. It had happened many times in those 3 years of our college life.Nothing unusual , girls unpacked all their make up kits, lip sticks, glosses, mascaras, eye liners, lip liners, rulers, eye shadows, base foundations and what not, turning the bedroom in to a mini Health & Glow outlet.In fact I get to see most of the latest cosmetic inventions in the market only during times likes these. And all of us fight to get the mirror focus and end up spoiling our natural beauty.Sahaya forcible applies modern art bindhis with the eye liner brush on most of our foreheads just to spoil the ‘not so bad’ looking girls.On this occasion, mom reached home with a bunch of bright yellow roses to place them in the newly bought porcelain vase. But she ended up planting one on each of our hair locks.Unable to deny my mom’s so loving gesture girls had nothing to say but to leave for the wedding reception with yellow roses planted on their top floors. It was 6.30 pm & was getting little dark outside.So mom suggested that we all leave early and in turn reach home early. So we all stepped out together to catch a rick with the huge bouquet that we bought for Sharmi mam.

Once on the road,I realized that vani had almost painted her face pink with her base make up solution looking really awful and little scary to my eyes for a moment when she smiled. I turned around to Preethi and she looked like another cute looking devil in the holly wood movies with her heavy beaded pearls lined up on the neck with her hair left open just not liking the idea of having a rose planted like us.Ambal chose to wear suki’s salwar since she came unprepared for the immediate party plans. Looked like we could clone Ambal twice and accommodate all in the same attire. Sahaya portrayed like an exhibition model displaying all her huge antique jewellery pieces from home. Anu was looking good but her lip stick was so dark and thick that looked as if some one plastered her mouth with a red glossy band.And it was difficult for a moment to decide in which gender should I be classifying Suki now, looking at the way she had preened herself. I realized that I must have looked equally funny in some way but was more conscious with my dark pink straw berry flavored lipstick and the yellow rose planted on my head.

The moment we stepped in to the wedding hall, our eyes by default focused on Sharmi Mam’s groom. Mmm … not very impressive at the first look. But then we had nothing to hype about it since he wasn’t handsome to any of our eyes. We found our college dudes in a corner having a huge round table conference at the wedding hall. The moment we walked past that side, there were huge laughter peels quacking the floor. I could make out y it was so loud. May be our comical appearances. I folded my lips tightly inside and licked the densely applied strawberry flavor. Also felt like plucking the planted rose. But mom's so loving gesture stopped me.Soon we settled in our own corner to calculate the Net Asset Value in gold of every 40 + aunty who passed us.Suddenly I found Vani staring near the entrance. Then Preethi and then Anu, Ambal, Bavani. I too turned around but nothing caught my eyes. Vani pressed my shoulder in excitement and said ‘Heyyyyy….. ur Man’. ’My man ?’.I knew they were kidding here too. So I chose not to turn. But then Preethi stressed the same thing. ‘Dev , ur Man’. I thought they all have decided to fool me for the cross face I had that morning.But then when Bavani stressed the same thing, I had to believe it and look for my man in the crowd. For the next five minutes I couldn’t spot him in the huge crowded hall. But then after some time I did.

Yes it was my man for sure. He was quite simple in a faded blue jean & a white T-Shirt appeared dipped in robbin blue and forgotten for days to rinse.‘Devi ur Surya is here with us today to make ur evening. Can u believe it ? ‘ Suki bashed. I was really over whelmed with joy that everning. Felt like talking to him. But then I knew it was really impossible,may be even to near him in this huge crowd. He never had that filmy air around him. In some time he followed us to the dining hall for the dinner. He happened to be seated in the next row. But definitely from an angle where I could focus him :-). My friends really felt happy for me. I was little thrilled ,when I realized that slowly the crowd was dwindling in the hall and he was still around. Preethi gave me a pilot pen and a blank business card when she left. Looked like she had it ready with her, just for me.I found him being a part of a 15 member circle formed near the wedding hall entrance. He was not part of any conversation that was happening in that big circle. He stood tying his hands tight around his abdomen and appeared choice less listening to that conversation. With little excitement, I approached the big circle tangentially,targeting the point where Surya stood. I stopped at a length of 50 centimeters from him. Sensing my presence, it was almost spontaneous during that late evening hour when he put his mobile in his shirt pocket and picked the pen & card from my hand to spread his choice of ink pattern on it. It was during those 10 silent seconds that I observed him from such a close proximity which I never expected would happen in my life.

When he was busy making his ink pattern, I realized that he was at least two inches shorter than me. Heart sank a little for reasons unknown. I asked my self in silence, ‘Does it mean that Joe chéchi is also shorter than me? ‘.He handed over the card and pen back to me looking in to my eyes. I felt elated. I thanked him. Like an automated reply he said ‘Ur welcome’. I turned away from him examining the ink pattern that he chose to spread for me. It read

With Love
- Surya

These were the words that took him 10 seconds to return me the card. He filled the card that I gave him by writing these three words big and bold. I liked the way he had stylishly stroked ‘S’ in his name. But I felt there was no trace of my virtual Surya in the man who filled my card seconds back. I found myself caught in the world of virtual reality for some time.I came home asking myself 101 useless questions. When I rang the bell, Mom opened the door and at once enquired ‘So how was the wedding. Did u girls enjoy it ? ‘. I said ‘yes’, showing her the card signed by Surya.She curiously looked at it and raised her brows in surprise. ’Siva Kumar payan thane ? ‘ ( Shiva Kumar’s son, right ?) she asked me. ‘Hmm’ came the reply from me. Dad also took a look at it when mom was holding it.He asked me if he was related to the bride or the groom in any way. But none of us had any clue about it. All were excited seeing him there.Thatz it.

It was 10.30 pm. Soon I changed quickly and finally got a chance to pluck the yellow rose from my top floor and lied on my bed in dark & silence – rewinding the whole day’s events in sequence, assimilating slowly the fact that I met my man that evening, pondering deeply over the virtual reality manifestation that I encountered. At around 11 pm, the phone beeped and I hurried to pick up the receiver. It was Rijo.’Hi da ,met ur man finally today. Very glad to know. So what did he tell you ?’.’Nothing’ I replied.‘ Whoz that ma? ‘ investigated mom. ‘Surya ma’. oops !! I hit myself on the forehead little harder re replying ‘Rijo ma’. Her investigation stopped at once she heard my re-reply.‘Haan Rijo bolo‘ I continued on the receiver. ’What da still in ur man’s thoughts ahh ‘ he made fun of me.Next day in the college bus, on the campus corridors, in the staff room, library, canteen, laboratory, anywhere and everywhere folks spotted me, they enquired curiously about how I felt when I met my man .I just smiled away at most of them. Even Loganathan sir was curious to know how I felt. When I entered the lecture hall, my gangsters were waiting to see the love note that my man gave me.I disclosed the note to Preethi first carefully pulling it out from a palm sized Milo – Book of Facts in which I decided to preserve it for my life time. She passed it on after a short examination to vani.But Anu was having it for a long time after everybody had a look at it in the class. When I went to collect it from her in the evening, she handed it over with a big sighing look at the card,muttering ‘Hmm...don't know when am I going to be lucky like u to meet my maddy, one day ‘.