Pillar to Post

2010-10-28T09:26:00.002+05:30

My addiction to auto-travelling is due to many reasons.
1. I am driving-challenged.
2. I have arthritis and cannot board buses.
3.I hate waiting for buses.
Since I am a seasoned auto-traveller, I feel I am highly qualified to advise people on the rules to follow .
You must know that auto drivers follow Newton's First Law of Motion :viz(I love the word viz- it is now becoming extinct)An object continues in its state of rest or uniform motion in a straight line unless acted upon by an external force.
Hence never disturb a sleeping/gossipping auto driver-they have increased the auto fares mainly so that they have more time to relax.
Autos are uni-directional- they wish to continue travelling in the same direction until they come to a dead-end,so never ever ask them to turn around.
They hate U-turns.This I have found out, applies to all auto drivers. Unfortunately we have to take a U-turn to reach our house.The auto drivers either tell us U-turns are not allowed, which we rubbish loudly, or grumble so much our day is ruined.
They never have small change.They are experts in approximations. They always round off the fare to the nearest tens.They hate people who produce the exact change,

One should be careful about airing one's political views while travelling in an auto.Even if you are airing it only to your captive audience-your co-passenger-remember that Big Brother is watching you.If the auto driver's political affiliations are radically opposed to yours, you might find yourself suddenly and unceremoniously thrown out.
Never talk religious sentiments.The Driver's ID might say he is A clean shaven Nanje Gowda but the driver might be a bearded Abdul Gafoor.
The inscriptions on the back generally give you a lot of information about the driver.Unfortunately you can only read the inscriptions on other people's autos."Swetha- Swaroop' Happy small family .Appa ammana ashirwada-Parents have paid for the auto- willingly or unwillingly.Rajkumar's photo- better speak shudh kannada or else.
A couple of days I autoed to Avenue Road in the evening. Wrong time. wronger place to be in,but couldn't be helped. We tried to catch an auto to return home. A stream of empty autos went past, refusing every 'sawari'.They all turned left, and stood in a line.All this with a humungous Hoysala parked right there!I went up to the inspector .seething with righteous indignation and complained. The inspector immediately took up his walkie-talkie and bellowed to his assistants to"get Madam an auto".The whole of Avenue Road froze for a moment and then you could see a lot of autos running for their dear lives from the vicinity.But for one or two of them it was too late, The assistant nabbed one and hollered for the madam ,and immediately a lot of impostors swarmed around him.We got into the auto and heaved a sigh of relief-too soon.The auto driver travelled a few yards to be outside the purview of the Hoysala and stopped.The driver demanded that we should pay extra -Pray,why, demanded my husband-for the time wasted in the peak hour traffic replied the driver.A heated argument ensued. Meanwhile I was busy taking down the the number of the auto.I switched on the camera in the cellphone and clicked a few bad mug shots of the scene. The driver caught on and started the auto, He took us home in the most circuitous route and dumped us in front of our home unceremoniously.I scuttled out of the auto like a frightened cockroach , glad to be in ine piece.
And last but not least, always pray while travelling in an auto--pray that the driver has had a good breakfast, doesn't have acidity,or a nagging wife,hasn't been jilted by his girlfriend-or just chant a shloka or take a valium.
If all fails,do not despair==the metro will soon be here!!

Pedestrian woes

2010-08-26T17:29:00.008+05:30

Being a pedestrian in the world of snazzy cars, scooters, motorbikes, scootys , and bicycles is a tough job. If you are a NRI and a pedestrian by choice in India(My God!!Drive in Bengalooru traffic! Never!) you get sympathetic and respectful nods. But a desi pedestrian has a tough time.

FAQs for the regular pedestrian :

1. How do you ever get around, ajji,(when I haven't dyed my hair) or aunty (when I have )....
Answer : This one is tough. Yes auto fares have gone through the roof and my arthritic knees protest when I clamber on buses. Add to this drivers who start the bus when I am still on the footboard,"Ajji, we don't have all day, climb fast" and it is a major problem.

2.How do you ever cross the roads?
Answer : Crossing the roads is not a major problem. you go to the zebra crossing and pretend to never look at the voluminous traffic. The pedestrian lights bleeps for exactly 25 seconds which you can manage if you are either a star sprinter or if you can fly. If you are neither ,just cross the road after taking a deep breath and reciting prayers. Have deep faith in the karma theory or chant 'Que sera sera'.
Look sternly at any driver who is revving the engine threateningly. Alternately, if there is a policeman around, you can get into an argument as to how it is impossible to cross the road so fast. they generally guide you across the road and they will glare at the drivers for you.

Another good option is to pretend you are an ambulance and bleep furiously and cross. The drivers then will either really think you are a human ambulance or that you are an escaped lunatic (after all Nimhans is really closeby) and let you cross the road.

If all else fails , keep all your transactions on your side of the road. Choose the friendly neighbourhood bank on the same side of the road.

I was trying to cross Southend Road the other day , when I saw a senior citizen in the middle of the road , with the traffic whizzing past , The poor man had a neck problem and could turn his head only in one direction.He had managed to cross half the road , by turning right, but was now unhappily stranded in the middle of the road, I bravely went to his rescue, following all the aforesaid rules and helped him. I could already see the halo around my head. He thanked me profusely and said, "You can cross the samsara sagara , but not a Bengalooru road"!!

3.Do you have to depend on others to ferry you around?
Answer : This option actually saves a lot of headaches. Depute work.. cos, well, they can use a vehicle and you can't.

4.Can you do multiple tasks in a day?
What multitasking? Those days are over. In this day and age, if you can survive crossing the road even once a day- your job for the day is done.

And with that we come to the end of our Q & A session. For any further questions or complaints on road safety and best practices for pedestrians - well there's nothing you can do ....go back to chanting your favorite prayer and take the first step in good faith.

2009-08-23T13:59:00.003+05:30

My friend's blog set me thinking, as all her blogs do. She is truly a thinking woman's blogger.('woman' here stands for all of mankind,just like 'No man is an island').
Well, my marriage has lasted forty stormy years, and I do feel I am eligible to dispense words of wisdom.Ofcourse, you might say, ' It is not growing like a tree, In bulk doth make Man better be' etc. nevertheless I shall proceed.

The first thing to remember is that togetherness is highly pernicious to a marriage.It would be ideal if one spouse is a night owl, and the other an early bird.The less time you spend together, the longer the marriage will last. (just like King Vikramaditya's' kaadaru maasam ,Naadaru maasam') My husband and I have an ideal arrangement.He goes for a walk, after I return.He sleeps when I finish my afternoon nap. In the evenings, he goes for music concerts, I am busy with tuition.As the day ends, he watches tamil serials, I watch Hindi serials.It is imperative for a good marriage to have as many TV sets as possible.Channel selection has been the reason cited for so many divorces.

It would ofcourse be ideal to have pre-nup agreements on major issues. But in India this would have the man running helter-skelter out of the engagement. There is sure to be a great aunt lurking somewhere who is sure to say"My God! what kind of girl asks for this?".

This would be ideal, because it is never the big issues that cause rifts in a marriage. "Is Barrack Obama a good president?, Should Jaswant Singh be expelled from the BJP?", these things don't break up a marriage.It is the little things that do.
What are the little things? When I was a newly wed, Bangalore was a heaven on earth. Winters were very chilly. Our bedroom had , believe me, six windows.My husband used to open all six, and have the fan on, full blast. He never noticed that I was freezing .By morning, I would be an icicle. I had to stand near the 'venneer anda'(water boiler) for half an hour to thaw.Those were the days when parents were not so sympathetic.When I went to my 'maika' I complained to my father about this.He listened to me patiently and I was delighted. He got up thoughtfully, and I was sure he was going to call up my husband.Those days it was not so easy to make long distance calls.We had to call up trunk booking and the operator would answer only if she wanted to.She would say "Yes Moddom, I will call you back". If you were lucky, the call would come through by next week. My father was gone a long time, and I was a little puzzled. Then he came in and thrust a package at me. I opened the packet and found two extra thick blankets.I got the message, ofcourse.

Another thing that causes marriages to break up is snoring. If both spouses snore, they can snore in harmony, and even have snoring competitions. It is bad if only one partner snores. then you either use ear plugs, or just remember what I read in the digest -'Snoring is the best music this side of heaven, ask any widow'.

Food is again a contentious issue. Some husbands have the habit of comparing their wife's cooking to their mother's.I never had this problem as my mother-in-law had never cooked in all her life.It is best to practise selective deafness on these occasions-you might turn up the volume of the TV, bang a few dishes,hit the punching bag, count till hundred, but never ever fight.

Another major reason for fights is naming the offspring. I never had this particular problem, as my mother-in-law insisted on naming all her grandchildren.I had a friend who wanted to name her daughter Chetana while her husband insisted on calling her Sirisha. The child got so confused she ended up with schizoprenia. Just imagine, if the grandmother had insisted on calling her Indira, the child would have ended up with multiple personality disorder!!

Children's education is always another issue. Don't feel victorious if you get the portfolio. It has its pitfalls. Recently, my cousin's daughter,25, complained that her mother ought to have made her learn Bharatanatyam. "But, Diya, I wanted to join you since you were six, and you were the one who refused to " said my baffled cousin."Mother," came the irritated retort"I was too young.You should have forced me to learn".It is clearly a no-win situation.

The list is endless. But if you survive the first ten years, half the battle is won.I feel the government should institute Param Vir Chakra and MahaVir Chakra awards for people who celebrate silver and golden wedding anniversaries, Is anyone listening?

Glueless bonding

2009-07-17T22:19:00.003+05:30

I need very little to thrill me.I get an immense thrill when two jigsaw pieces fit together . There used to be a lovely 'ping' when they bonded ,but Seren hated the sound and silenced it.Being technically challenged, I couldn't put it back again.I didn't raise my voice because all this saatwik eating has made me docile.I can hear my pragmatic older offspring harumphing, but I do have these 'Thoda pyaar, thoda magic moments, when....

In the U.S. ,I see a lady with a nosering in the right side, the Tambram in me does a jig. I want to run forward and do a 'gale milana', only I know Altoid would disapprove.Once I did beam at a right nosering only to discover it was a hippie guy!

I sit in Sai Mandir and sing Sai Bhajans, and bond with all of them there.A wonderful 'yaadum oore, yavarum kelir' moment.(translates to' all places are mine , all men are my kinsmen')
I am in a souvenir shop, 'saat samundar paar, I am grinning at a magnet which
says 'You have to kiss a lot of frogs to find a prince' I ,raise my eyes to find an American smiling at it too and feel an instant bonding across all barriers.
I see a young American at the airport, reading Khaled Husseini.I want to hug her and say ' me too loves his books!'

When I hear the chant 'Sarve Jana sukino bhavanthu' and feel one with all the universe!!

Jigsaw!

2009-06-30T05:20:00.003+05:30

Flower Beds Jigsaw Puzzle

I have always loved jigsaws, and I always will.When we discovered jigsaws on the net, Seren was still in college .We used to compete with each other in doing it faster, and you should have seen her face when she came back from college and found that I had beaten her time record!

Seren always had a knack of doing jigsaws. She could assemble the pieces by their shape and colour, a skill I don't possess.The ones we love are Kincaid's. Altoid regularly supplies us with jigsaws.
So what is it with jigsaws? May be it is an innate longing for some order in this chaotic world.When pieces fit together, it really gives you a thrill,a 'God is in His heaven all is right with the world' feeling.

Poppy Jigsaw Puzzle

I do atleast one jigsaw a day (while in the good old USA ofcourse, in India I would get a whopping telephone bill) In case you love jigsaws here are a few! I suggested to my children that this craze for jigsaws and crosswords were the result of the trauma of my being the neglected middle child, but they do not agree.They feel it is too farfetched.

(s)tone deaf

2009-05-10T20:00:00.003+05:30

One of my life's regrets is that I am completely tone deaf. Coming from a family of music buffs who used to sit through all night music concerts of Chemmangudi and Ariyakkudi, I am so obviously the black sheep.My aunt did make valiant efforts.She got me really good music teachers. I used to wonder why my music teachers looked so pained when I sang.I really couldn't sing. My uncle who used to visit us , felt it his duty to make us practise our music. He told me much later that he used to feel quite nauseous when he heard me sing. It was a strong sense of duty which kept him at it.
My aunt tried teaching me veena ( after the neighbours started buying earplugs, I suppose)
She finally gave up on me.
My sister-in-law sings really well.She gives concerts also.Once when she had come home during Navaratri, I asked her to sing. Even though I am tone deaf. I like to listen to music, especially when I understand the lyrics, especially Dikshitar's.Later my older sister-in-law told me that she had said that she did not enjoy singing to people who are tone deaf.

That hurt! I imagined a lot of cutting retorts . It rankled. It rankled so badly I never ever asked her to sing again.

Just yesterday I was listening to some music on the youtube. The Ranjani-Gayatri duo. They were asked a question by a member of the audience.The woman said that she did not know any thing about music.. she couldn't identify ragas or anything , but she did enjoy listening to music.. was that okay? The answer was an eye-opener for me. Gayatri said that it didn"t really matter whether you identified the raga or understood the finer nuances.. if the music touches a chord in your heart that was the best reward for the singer.In fact connoisseurs listen to music on a fault finding mission.
Hurrah!I am back to listening to music.. Never mind if I think Kambhoji is Devagandhari!

Appa's filter coffee

2009-05-10T19:32:00.003+05:30

I read emolior's blog with great delight. I love compliments .I just soak in.Unfortunately not everyone in the house appreciates my filter kapi.
Until the time I left for the U.S. in 2002, my husband couldn't or rather wouldn't make his coffee.But when I planned to go I taught him how to. Now he no longer likes my coffee. He makes his own coffee.
When Emolior hears him in the morning making coffee in the kitchen, she feigns sleep.She will rattle something or if need be, kick me to get me to wake up. You ask why? Read on!
My husband gets his coffee powder specially ordered. It has 50%coffee and 50% chicory.He asks for tips on making coffee. Following one such tip, He put coffee powder in the filter, added three spoons of sugar(my mother said, a pinch) heated the filter red hot , ended up with coffee syrup as the sugar melted. The actual tip was , always slightly heat the filter to remove any blocks in the pores, add a pinch of sugar on top of the coffee powder .
He always makes the coffee real strong and believe it or not adds a spoon of instant coffee. The resulting brew can wake up the dead.Jet laggers like Emolior will never recover from their jetlag.
He is always hurt when his offspring refuse his offers of coffee.But pitrubhakti can be carried only so far, isn't it?

Tag Tag!

2008-11-23T22:03:00.004+05:30

Hello folks! I am back!

My oldest memory:
is of 'anju ruba rendana " My fees at school was five rupees and two annas and i used to weep and wail unless it was given as five one rupee coins and two annas! I wouldn"t accept a five rupee note!

Ten years ago:
I was still working and nothing much to worry except the tenth std results.

My first thought this morning:
What else? What should I make for breakfast?

If you built a time capsule, what would it contain:
Depends on how big it was and if I was going back or forwards...If backwards nothing much. I think they needed only fruits and fig leaves!

This year
bad .. ....worse .....but I am closer to God.

14 years from now
Why 14 years? Vanvaas?

PPP in a pickle!

2008-03-07T22:36:00.013+05:30

When the leaves of the mango tree in our frontyard turn that exquisite brown-green and the yard is covered with rustly dead leaves , I sigh: I know it is pp time again... No , not pillpopper time but pickles and preserves time.My aunt was a great pickler and preserver and March would always see the beginning of frenetic activity. Pickle jars would be cleaned and dried, plastic sheets washed...

First to make their appearance would be the curd rice accompaniment- the vad mangai.Vadumangais alas, were not available in Hyderabad and were imported via obliging relatives.The best vadus I have ever tasted were from Kutralam, my aunt's 'maika'.. where the vadus ,she assured us ,were from special trees. The vadus could not fall to the ground and were collected in nets tied under the trees. The vadus were just a single bite size , a lovely lime-green and absolutely yummy with curd rice ,the staple food of Tambrams. Remember this famous song.
Next in line would be an assortment of light pickles.....thokkus redolent with the flavours of methi powder, hing and gingelly oil, Ennai mangai with the right blend of salt, pungency and tang , morabbas with an exquisite sweet-sour taste....
Then simultaneously we would be into the vatrals and vadams. In the scorching heat of April , my aunt would create huge mounds of dough speckled with green chillies and seasoned with hing, with a liberal spray of lime juice. All the under 16s ( only girls mind you, no women's lib here) were sent scurrying to the terrace to get the arena ready for the great fat indian vadam spectacle. The sun would be a fierce orange blob and I would immediately start on a migraine.. but my aunt would be unfazed. If I had a headache .she would be having a worse one, and would tie a towel like a bandit queen around her head and carry on.I believed for a long time that my aunt was the reincarnation of some spartan general who would have willingly let the weaklings die ,believing in the survival of the fittest.
Suddenly May would be upon us, and it would be Avakkai time again. Avagai, the queen of mango pickles.Everything had to be right for this queen.. Previously all the spices would be made at home, but fortunately now we get everything readymade. The time had to be just right. The agni nakshatram had to be over but the thunder showers with hailstones shouldn't have ruined the mangoes. The mangoes which fell due to hailstorms were considered unfit for pickling, much like fallen women! My aunt would drag us to the market and haggle endlessly. We were the official tasters to check if the mangoes were sour enough. One bite and the tang would make our dendrites tingle.We would arrive home withe cut mangoes , half dead from the heat, but there was more work to be done. The mango pieces had to be wiped, the salt and chilli powder mixed.. Atlast it would be over. Three days later we would have a taste of the Avagai.. and it would be "If there is a heaven on earth, it is this ,it is this!'
Then I had made a resolution . I would never ever torture myself to make vatrals and vadams, But fate willed otherwise. But that is another story.

When my workaholic hyperactive aunt had a crippling stroke when she was 78, I wondered how she would cope with a sedentary life. But true survivor that she was , she switched to watching mega soaps and dispensing free advice to all and sundry.Now that is what I call a true survivor.

PS: The red monstrosity guarding the vadaam is thanks to my older daughter.For those who fail to recognise it , let me enlighten you here. It is the big bad wolf (Of red riding hood fame) in Grandma's clothing.

The Murabba recipe

2 Cups grated raw mango , Grated
2 Cups Sugar
a pinch of salt
4 sticks cinnamon
2 Tbsp chilli powder

Remove excess water from the grated mango , add sugar , cinnamon and chilli powder
Spread thinly on a plate
Cover with a muslin cloth
Leave it out in the sun for 2-3 days (bring it in each night :D) until the Murabba becomes syrupy
Store in air tight containers

family and friends

2007-10-15T20:08:00.000+05:30

Recently I was teaching one of my students civics and explaining what a family and community meant. Here is what the textbook said: the immediate group in which you live is your family. A group of families either living in the same area or having some common links or interests is called a community.
That really got me thinking. Families are getting ultra nuclear nowadays. People get euphoric over the old system of joint families and lament their extinction. But let me be brutally frank.I lived in a joint family and the first day of my nuclear family life I went bonkers. I could cook what I wanted, I could get up whenever I wanted( I kept getting up at five AM being a creature of habit nevertheless) Ooh what joy! But the flipside is that children have deleted the word adjustment from their vocabulary.They don't want to be "nice" to cousins they don't like.."not in the same wavelength"They would rather be with friends who have similar tastes.They don't want to like what they get but get what they like.
Liking what one gets is good. You can love a person unconditionally . You might dislike umpteen things about them but still love them.
Recently I recently read an article about a community of bikers who call themselves First Sunday Riders,all of whom love bikes and riding unchartered territories.When you share a common interest it is a wonderful bonding. When I go to Sai Mandir on Thursdays ,
I feel a bonding with the people there ...we are all devotees of Sri Saibaba . How much a common interest or religion or even a common sorrow or happiness unites people!
i must be getting old. I am getting more and more mushy and by Toutatis where is my old cynical self?

Here a tag there a tag

2007-09-30T19:13:00.000+05:30

I have been tagged , rather unfairly, I should say,as I cannot run.
Anyway here goes.
There are 3 rules.
Rule 1. The rules must be mentioned in the beginning of the tag.
Rule 2 You must list one fact that is somehow relevant to your life for each letter of your middle name. If you don’t have a middle name, use the middle name you would have liked to have had.
Rule 3. At the end of your blog post, you need to choose one person for each letter of your middle name to tag.
My parents didn't give me a middle name for the simple reason they didn't give me my first name either.I was an unwanted second daughter who grew up into an aggressive middle child. My second cousin twenty times removed grabbed the opportunity and named me.She later had three daughters of her own and gave them even uglier names.
The name I would like as my middle name is Nidhi (treasure,..not an unwanted second daughter)
N for neurotic (gene presented by mater)
I for insecure( if your parents allowed your second cousin to name you you would be too)
D for depressed( ditto same reason as above)
H for haughty or hoi polloi as occasion demands.
I for inimitable (one of a kind)
By the way, I had to discard quite a few impressive words. N could have been narcissistic but I couldnt be both insecure and that could I? I could have been an iconoclast, ignoramus, immunologist, or even a hexagon. ok let it go.
Now like I said earlier , I am too old to play tag , so I need volunteers. Bye.

subhadra.haha!

2007-08-30T21:49:00.000+05:30

Everywhere I go now I see huge billboards saying "Subhadra footpath" exhorting the pedestrians not to jaywalk, but to use the new improved footpaths. "Subhadra" !They must be joking. I have a torn ligament to prove that they aren't. Everytime I walk on these footpaths, I walk like a bashful bride, head bent down, searching for pitfalls. We live on a main road, on which a flyover was constructed recently.The flyover is like they remarked about the laser when it was discovered(quite wrongly as it turned out) the solution in search of a problem. A narrow service road runs alongside the flyover,( with a narrower footpath, which is not even a foot wide) on which all the buses ply at breakneck speeds

The educational institution on this road contributes to the hazards the pedestrians face. It has built an ugly portico which has further reduced the size of the footpath. It has leaky drainpipes which leak out effluents of unknown origin on to the footpath, which collect in puddles on the footpath. In addition they have two large spouts on the terrace which suddenly come to life and drench unsuspecting pedestrians. Get on the road and you hear a sudden blare and see a huge bus bearing down on you..and you either have a heart attack or get run over by the bus.
, What are the other options .... walk through the ground and get hit by a cricket ball or shouted at by an irate coach..No , I prefer the Subhadra footpath, thank you.

of pills and placebos

2007-08-05T14:38:00.000+05:30

Ha! what did my offspring say about pills and placebos? Just check out this article in the TOI
dated August 3,2007. the article says" People who expected to get pain relief from a treatment showed a greater release of dopamine in the part of the brain called the nucleus accumbeus.... In turn they were more likely ... to report pain relief even though they all received only a placebo"
Ha ha, all ye unbelievers,what do you have to say? ..I clearly remember all your snide remarks about pillpopping and placebos.
On a more serious note, so many times, I wonder if there is a God above, or is it all just fiction?
Despite all the karma theory, of which my father was a strong proponent, why do the good suffer, sometimes throughout life, while the wicked flourish like the green bay tree?
But I am still a strong believer.I need Him with an unimaginable thirst and hunger.
I can rant at Him and He will forgive me.
I can weep unashamedly in front of Him , He will wipe away my tears with a calm smile
I can do a hundred wrong things ,He will forgive me.
Only He can give me unconditional love.
He is the true mother. I need someone who is nonjudgmental-above all the pettinesses of life.
I need Him ,hence I am a believer.

I just need Him...
He is the ultimate Placebo. .....

Walk into my closet said the spider to the fly ..

2007-08-04T19:24:00.000+05:30

As I took my morning walk , that fateful day, my step was jaunty, my mood was euphoric. We had shifted, the movers had come and gone , no major breakages, the kitchen was already set up,all was well ,God was in his Heaven..
Now I always plan out my day during the walk. so too this day.Today was allotted for sorting out the clothes....that is Alto's. Since I had travelled wisely this time, mine took just under 25 minutes.
She had already told me to leave the winter clothing alone ..that could be unpacked when winter came and spring was far behind." Hallelujah '! sang my heart "that is 50% less work".
Came nine'oclock an assortment of suitcases, cardboard cartons, and bags appeared as if my magic. "amma, "said my daughter," there are some more wrapped around the glass jars" and blithely departed for work.
I took a deep breath, took a valium and started.First I separated the formals and then subdivided as Indian and western ..that was easy.Then I started on the skirts. that was when the nightmare started. They started from ankle-length and went higher and hi..gher until I could bear it no more. I sorted them out on the basis of length and labelled them in ascending
order. That was the math teacher resurfacing. Thank goodness they stopped a little above the knee.
Then the mindboggling trousers and shorts for every imaginable occasion... even one for doing sudoku in.Then I stared ....and restared. the garment I was folding had looked quite innocuous. It was a pair of shorts.. or was it? It was a shorts in the front but was like a skirt behind.How do I classify this? In my world of maths, black was black and white was white no 'tween shades of gray.I called up Alto..I could feel the fear in her voice" Has she burnt the house down?"I explained" Amma , that is called a skort!" she said. Skort! My God!
By evening it was all sorted out.. Everything I couldn't sort out I put under 'miscellaneous'.
You would think my daughter would be grateful. Not so. Come six'oclock I hear a shout from above..no not an" Ashariri"-- that was my ungrateful daughter -' Amma, where on earth is my black hand embroidered skirt ?' I rushed upstairs, and conducted a mini orientation course on where everything was. Then I asked my daughter' Dont you think it was much easier and better when you had just 6 sets of salwar suits and the seventh set made you feel like you were in seventh heaven' 'No' said my unrepentant Americanised materialistic daughter, surveying her overflowing closet, 'this is my seventh heaven' !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I have been tagged!

2007-07-20T22:52:00.000+05:30

Help! I have been tagged!
I have not eight but eighty things to say about myself, but do I want people to know these ? THAT is the question.
1. I suffer from acrophobia.I HATE rollercoasters, giantwheels all the things normal people love to ride in.
2. I love the word phobia. It sounds high funda..Instead of saying that I am ... scared of spiders I can say I suffer from Arthropodophobia.by the way my biology is little rusty..spiders are arthropods ..right.?
3.I dont have a single sports gene. I am bad at any sport or game....I am surprised that my husband who loves sports (he even watches re-re-re -reruns of all matches)hasnt divorced me.
4. I hate cooking. I frankly dont know from where my daughter got her love of cooking from . My motherinlaw never cooked nor did her motherinlaw.I cook because I love compliments and love oneupmanship.Go to 8 for further details.
5.I sing like an ass , I'm usually a zillion notes off-key

6.I love irritating my husband , a skill honed over the years. He is a hoarder,I am a thrower-out of things. Just today I cleaned his room thoroughly, I am waiting anxiously for the repercussions.Anyway, that is three months away.I dont think he's going to divorce me because

-- It is very difficult to get cooks
--He loves old things.. and I am practically an antique now.
--Alimony is too expensive and we cannot afford lawyers.
7.I keep my kitchen either spiffy clean or drop dead dirty
8.I'm terribly insecure , it takes about 3 compliments a day (I dont mind even repeated compliments)to keep me stable and reasonably sane

Now is the million dollar question , I do not KNOW 8 people , maybe not even 8 visitors! So please save me from ignominy and take up my tag , dear..dearest reader !(I hope you love compliments just as I do!)

Ahem (*Brandishes her cane*) , here are the rules
1. Each player starts with 8 random facts/habits about themselves.
2. People who are tagged, write a blog post about their own 8 random things, and post these rules.
3. At the end of your post you need to tag 8 people and include their names. Don’t forget to leave them a comment and tell them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.
4. If you fail to do this within eight hours, you will not reach Third Series or attain your most precious goals for at least two more lifetimes. (what does it mean?)

Mod Michaelangelo

2007-07-01T20:58:00.000+05:30

(Inside-Outside)

Weekends in India are like weekdays ,atleast for me. A heavier breakfast may be, a longer walk , a longer snooze. Here weekends mean going sightseeing ; This time it was catching up on museums in DC.we wanted to see only those I had missed out last time I was here.So..it was the Sculpture garden for us.One which caught my fancy was the 3D inside outside house (pic above) which changed perspective as we walked towards it.It really got me thinking...We are so judgmental about people when we meet them for the first time, seeing them through someone's eyes, through our own insecurities,then we get closer and see them quite differently.....see these sculptures as I saw them.

(Oh, what a tangled web we weave.....I didnt go into this parlor)

(A cat can look at a King, a crow can look at a sculpture. 3 guesses for what this is.)

the garden or rather weeden

2007-06-28T20:06:00.001+05:30

I am missing my garden rather my weeden back home. No, it is not one of those landscaped neat gardens that are shown on Inside Outside . A higgledy piggledy garden where hedges grow any which way, flowering plants forget to flower...an overgrown mango tree whose fruits are sour, whose branches block the sunlight and dont allow other plants to grow;I hear you ask "why then a garden?"
Think of the plus points.I can go and lecture them sternly on their performance or rather the lack thereof.No backanswering or arguments.I can sing to them.. they do not say that I am singing offkey.I feed them with muck(literally) and they give me beautiful flowers. I trim them ... they do not say "I would rather go to the beauty parlour"
The whole of the shimmering summer the stones thrown at the mango tree have contribued to my rockery. And think of the pleasure of sneaking behind an unsuspecting little brat who is throwing stones and threatening him with incarceration..
Can my offspring give me any of these plasures? Noway. Give me my Weeden anyday.

hyper-hyperboles

2007-06-27T23:24:00.000+05:30

My children believe in hyperboles. Every little idiosyncracy or fault of mine is magnified a multifold, decorated with a lot of exaggeration, to make it delectable for their friends. take these for example.
Hyperbole 1: I am a pillpopper. so ... there is a saying "For every malady under the sun there is a remedy or there is none" Only I believe "for every malady under the sun there is a remedy, period....in homeopathy. I came equipped with a veritable medical cabinet.pills for jetlag,airsickness,seasickness(that was clubbed as one..... I took the seasickness pills when we were flying over the Atlantic) pills for cold , cough.. you name it I had it. What is wrong ? they said all of them were alike and most probably placebos made for hypochondriacs..I pop the pills I am happy,, viva la placebos!
Hyperbole2: I am directionally challenged.kay I do get lost in Basavanagudi after living there forever...so does it justify the story that is going around that if they made me stand in front of our house blindfolded me and turned me around a few times I wouldnt know where I was, does it? Ok I do go for walks with a compass so what ? It is a free country isnt it?
Hyperbole3:I have no memory for faces though I can remember old grudges that go back 30 odd years with perfect detail.Okay I did not recognize my brotherinlaw when I came face to face with him in the market..they refuse to believe that it was because I was solving a problem in geometry in my head..but I really think I associate people with their places... or may be I lack cognitive skills or whatever they call it in IQ tests.I only hope I have passed on these genes to my children...i cant wait to see them surface... bye.. time for a pill ...

Hello world

2007-06-19T08:08:00.000+05:30

Pills are being popped...please stand by for regular programming.