Hide-n-Seek

There is a sure-shot method to get a grown person turn red with embarrassment almost instantly. It involves the process of meeting their parents, hoping they remember their child's glorious childhood, and re-kindle their enthusiasm to share the minutest of details. One question you can ask is: Do you remember how baby goliath used to play hide-n-seek? To date, I have not heard this question back-fire. All parents who have spent hours on their mother's knee learning the value of truth, will tell you, how daft their little one was at the game. In fact, I am quite sure Newton's mother will tell you that her son tried to hide himself behind an apple as a child.


It is quite fascinating to see the game of peek-a-boo mature into hide-n-seek. Suddenly, closing one's eyes in the middle of the room, means nobody can see you! Give me a break. When they do hide, you can be almost sure, it will be a choice between spot A and spot B. Spot C becomes too varied. Of all the things the things I like to see best is how they come up with hiding spots when in a hurry.


"Hurry up! Amma will be coming in any moment...hide!"


Keep the pressure on, and see the kind of spots they come up with to really enjoy hide-n-seek. For example, this is where I "found" my daughter hiding when I came home one day. I had to try to avoid tripping over her, given that the box was in the middle of the room. Nevertheless, I spent five whole minutes shouting out her name, and looking for her in every other room, before feigning surprise at find her here.


I started mentioning this to one of my friends, and guess what, her sister came up with? My friend's hide-n-seek past! To protect the privacy of the friend, I shall refrain from mentioning the name, and other details. But, let's say it was highly entertaining to imagine that a highly qualified person with a keen intellect also started out with a deplorable hide-n-seek history!


Another related story that I put up soon, is my brother's hide-n-seek history. Boy, that would be a read!

His and Her Closets

I walked into the house, and surveyed the surroundings. I was out looking for a house that would satisfy my desires of a dream home. The living room was large, with a minor raised level constituting the family room where the family could have their meals. The kitchen needed some upgrades, but roomy and airy! I stepped into a pretty large room that was ridden with cobwebs.

"Is this a walk-in closet", I asked?

My realtor nodded, while the old lady, who lived in the home, looked at me quizzically and decided to ignore my question. We stepped into another bare room, and I exclaimed :

"WOW! A HIS and HER closet. This is lovely!"

The old lady, who now bore an uncanny resemblance to my grand-mother, looked at me like only a grandmother can look at a grand-child, and said she has around 10 sarees that she folds and keeps in her steel gray trunk. The first room was used to store the bags of rice after a harvest, and the smaller room was for storing maize. Why did she need such large rooms for clothes?!

At which point I burst out laughing, and got up from my sleep. I kept thinking about paati's face and smiled to myself!

The day is not far-off when folks walk into village houses in Singaperumal Kovil (a tiny village near Chengalpet) with similar comparisons, since Chengalpet has now opened up to IT firms!

Stuffed

I am stuffed with food.
I am stuffed with good food.
I am stuffed with good Chinese food.
I am stuffed with good Chinese food that I did not order.

Every so often you find yourself in a place where it is not possible to form an opinion. The feeling where you rack your brains, and you get no vibe! It was into one such place that my friend and I peeked into for lunch. We were handed a menu that has seen better days in the past, and engaged in our banter, before being approached by the owner.

We asked him for vegetable soup. He nodded his head, and asked us whether we were both vegetarians. I affirmed with a nod of my coconut. He touched his hand to his heart, and said he would take care of our lunch for us, and disappeared without a squeak.

I was wondering what he would send for us, since he had not asked us about our preferences - spicy, sweet, mild. Do we like tofu, broccoli? Nothing - nope - not a whiff.

We idled a little more, before some heavenly soup came alongside an appetizer (I don't know the names of the dishes I ate, because the owner sent us something that wasn't even on the menu) Soon, an entree consisting of vegetables arrived too.

I must say, this was a very different kind of hospitality, and one lunch I enjoyed. The company was great, and so was the food!

Father Knows Best!

While growing up, I remember thinking that my father was the know-all of all times. I now see my daughter going through life with the same fairy-eyed notion in her head. I asked her to come to me, so I can put on a pair of shoes, and she ran away at lightning speed to her father, claiming he knows best. I rolled my eyes and let it go.

He felt particularly heroic when she ran to him with her skort and shoes, proclaiming in her sweet baby language that her father only knows how to put them on ("appa-ku theeyum!").

I looked on, and decided to let the results speak for themselves. My daughter was tripping and losing her balance every third step, because of two notable reasons:
(1) Her left shoe was on the right leg and vice-versa
(2) Both legs were in one leg's opening in the skort

Appa-ku theeyum - ny foot and big toe! I watched on with amusement before I took off her skort and shoes and put them properly again!

My Hero!

Lady Prudence & I

I looked in the mirror, and spotted two strands of white hair this morning. I know I have always had one strand that grows out of the same spot in my scalp with bull-headed determination, no matter how hard I try to uproot it, but the second one was new.

Now wait a minute.....wait a minute!

I was supposed to be wise by the time the gray hairs came! I have always wondered how the hair would know when I became wise enough for the colour change to start. Now, I see that the hairs just give you some time, and hope Lady Prudence has taken her turn and shone her brilliant rays on you. If you were goofing around while it happened, well...sad luck!
Assuming Lady Prudence follows a round robin style to make fellas wise, I would have to wait around with graying hair to get wise. All this while folks around me can look at my graying coconut, and assume I am wise.

Hmm....now, that's sounds enticing. I could offer a ton of advice that sounds more convincing than it really is, thanks to my "wise look". There is one problem - I need to get friendly with some younger dudes/dudettes who are willing to take my advice. Teenagers are out, since they don't listen to advice. I am quite young myself, so I would have to target my advice at audience aged > 19 and younger than me.

For those of you who have read this post probably know, that even if Lady Prudence scorches me with her rays, there is no way I am getting any the wiser. So, I shall live in harmony with self, few white hairs and a song on my lips!

Related links: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gray_hair#Effects_of_aging_on_hair_color

Happy Pongal!

I have to start this post out by stating that eating is not one of my daughter's preferred activities. We expend considerable ingenuity in getting her to eat her meals without making it seem like a drag for her. I sometimes wonder whether she has read the studies warning people against junk food, because she prefers to eat none of that either. I see children in her day-care center munching and snacking with relish, while my little one sticks to roaming around with a juice cup, whose level seldom diminishes.

For Pongal, I had made vadas and payasam. As is customary, I set it in front of God as an offering. Just before performing the minor ritual before the offering can be eaten by us, I noticed a tiny hand sampling each of the vadas with a nibble, and placing them back on the plate in an orderly fashion! Never had I seen her sample some food like that. To offer the cutely bitten vadas to God was at once satisfying and rewarding!

There is a reason we call children Gods!

Happy Pongal!

Freedom

Freedom of Speech & Worship
Freedom from Want & Fear
Where liberty's torch is gleaming
And our way of life is dear

These were the lines in one of our school songs, the song affects me in more ways than I had imagined. I am witnessing a demonstration against the Bush regime imploring the US to stop sending more troops to Iraq.

This is what I love about freedom of speech. There is a small band of protestors gathered in San Francisco, replete with drums and bugles.

I love the sight of these determined people out in the cold, standing up for what they believe in.

The only thing that baffles me, is the fact that the Iraq war has been compared to Vietnam war so much, it should have sent unsettling signals when the first set of comparisons started. To sustain it to ensure that the Iraq war is the costliest mistake in really difficult to comprehend.

A mistake once is just that: a mistake
Same mistake twice : A stake too dear to miss

Why G-Shock gave me a Shock

Last week, my 10-year old nephew, Siddu, got a Casio G-Shock watch worth $100. I heard all about it from his mother, who also sent me this mail justifying the purchase. This was no mean purchase and there is a history that goes with it.

The following is the list of justifications offered by Siddu regarding why it was absolutely mandatory that he owned one!

Our comments are in blue.

1) Adarsh and Prabhman had G-Shock watches. Atleast Adarsh studies well and tops the class, I guess he deserves it, BUT Prabhman always gets marks that are lower than mine...even he has one.

2) When we went for the Scout camp, the guys with alarm clocks on their watches used to get up on time and they were so mean that they did not wake me up....I got up only when Sir came and called. So I need a watch with an alarm clock! (Psst: He still needs to be shaken up at home to get to school on time, though the alarm clock has arrived)

3) I lost watches before ( he lost 2 worth Dhs 10 or 20 each!!) because I had to remove them for PE class or cricket practice! I would leave it somewhere and not find it. With a G-Shock, it is for 'Sportsman' so I don't have to remove it each time. Even if a cricket bat 'got it' or I did a 'dive for a catch', it won't break.

4) For athletics, you can set the timer for races....I depend on someone else to do it for me ( to check if Sir is timing me right). I can try and beat my time each time!
My sister claims I could have become a far better athlete had I been given a G-SHOCK by my father. I was the more athletically inclined one in the family, and hence this comment.

5) It has a back light that is so smart...it works like a torch. In case I get stuck alone in some dark mountain also, I can use it to see. He needs company even to go to the next room at night!!!

6) If I want to know the time in California or London, I can use this watch. Remember last time you were checking the time for a phone call for your office, you checked on the Internet...next time you can just ask me.
My sister wanted to know the time in Vienna for a conference call. Yeah next time she can JUST ask Siddu to plan her international conference calls!

In the light of all these justifications, he got it for the following reason : He was given Dhs 100 as pocket money for his scout camp. He brought Dhs 92 back ( he bought a packet of Lays Chips, a juice and Bourbon biscuits with Dhs 8 , he explained ) and said

" Amma, I saved up for my G-Shock. If Maama gives me pocket money ( he gives him Dhs 5 a week), I will save that also and pay for it. It costs Dhs 146 ( Adarsh said so - the penultimate source!) ...so how many weeks of pocket money should I save?"

My sister's heart melted for keeping track of his expenses, for thinking of saving for something he wants and for being honest. As a reward, he got his G-SHOCK. As it happened , his dad selected a better model in the range and paid Dhs 375 instead of Dhs 146.......this model has a cool blue dial and a better shock absorber!!!

I wait with bated breath for the First Person of Indian Origin to bag the Olympic gold in Athletics, and if he happens to be from my family - what more can I ask for?!

An Inconvenient Truth

I am not a huge fan of movies. Every once in a while, a movie comes along, that brings about the following conversation in our household:

Man of the house: Saumya.....I've played the movie. Could you come and watch it?
Self: I can see it from the kitchen, while I am loading the dishwasher.
The titles start, and the man of the house glimpses in my direction, and he cannot even see me, so, how could I be watching a movie?: Can you come here now?
Unfazed, I reply that I can hear the conversation while wiping the floor.
Man of the house: GRRRRRRRRRR....No, this time you are coming here and watching it properly.
Self: What's the BIG Deal??? I don't enjoy movies as much as you do - so you go ahead, I'll join you in a moment.
10 minutes later, the tone hints on exasperation: For heaven's sake, come here, and watch the movie.
Self: Okay, okay...am almost done. I just have to <insert 6 totally unrelated, mundane task list here>


It is at this point in the proceedings when you can see a grown man pull a grown woman from the kitchen, and switch off the kitchen light. The grown man then follows aforementioned grown woman closely to ensure no u-turns are taken, and plays the movie. Usually, I sulk for the first few minutes before getting immersed in the movie. Invariably, I end the movie by thanking him for making me watch the movie. You see, my husband undertakes great pains to select movies I like and am sure to enjoy. I really appreciate that - I really do! He not only knows my taste, he actually makes me enjoy my life.

After scene above was enacted successfully on Friday night, we sat down to watch Al Gore's documentary: An Inconvenient Truth.

Let me just say this: my thought process has been altered. I don't think I see the world with the same eyes anymore. To those of you who have not yet seen this movie, please do so as soon as possible.

We owe it to ourselves, and our children.

Beautiful Girl Weds Naughty Boy

Beautiful Girl Weds Naughty Boy

The headline screamed in the fertile districts of Trichy and Thanjavur as a wedding took place between the Beautiful Girl & the Naughty Boy. In what has been termed a Made-for-each-other match, the beautiful girl and the naughty boy have remain wedded to each other for over 36 years. The Naughty boy still retains his boyish charm while playing peekaboo with the beautiful girl who stole his heart eons ago.

To those wondering about the context of the post: here is some light.

My father, being the fun-loving guy, was given the title of "Naughty Boy" this morning. At about the same time that he was gloating about his new title, my daughter proclaimed that my mother is a "Beautiful Girl". And that is the story of love between the Naughty boy & the Beautiful girl. My daughter loves playing peekaboo with her grand-parents. So, now I envision them youngsters (chinnan jirusugal) playing Peekaboo at home. It is the beautiful girl's job responsibility to tag the little minx along, while looking for the naughty boy in hiding.

After all these years - a headline that resounds true!

Word Verification

I had to turn on word verification while commenting. The reason is, I had a very persistent blogger enticing me to earn extra $2000 just by filling out online surveys. It looks like something needs to be purchased for a throw-away price of $79.99, and then the riches are mine for the asking.

I haven't verified these sources yet, but I am assuming there is a typebox asking me to enter my credit card number, checking account number in which to credit my dues, address, and any other personal identification I feel like divulging. Once done, I pretty much have to twiddle my thumbs, and randomly click on online surveys, and watch the money flow (The sentence obviates my need to specify the direction of money flow)

Every time I read something like this, I can't help looking at the reference comments. There is Joyful Jane falling all over herself claiming this liberated her from her dejected depravity, and she is the owner of a Mercedes Benz in just six short months. This comment is followed by All-you-can-get Alex, who is all but ga-ga over the site. For good measure, solely for skeptics such as myself, there is a Cautious Curie who says, she did not believe in the site at first, but later her new-found riches helped turn her torn down hut in Louiseville, KY into a mansion at Orange County.

I am going to pass the easy riches for the N-th time, and hope the California lottery picks me as a winner instead.

I need to get paid for this!

I am at training. The building nearby has lots of windows facing mine, and every now and then, I end up looking at the slides of the presentation passing up the interesting insights I've gathered by looking at the neighbouring offices. I have the information, that no amount of HR effectiveness can gather.

For example, I now know that the bearded bloke in the office on the 14th floor, and endowed with a window office drinks too much coffee. He needs to cut the caffeine. I saw him drink 3 cups in the afternoon yesterday. I pardoned him thinking it must have been a stressful afternoon. Now, he is already on the second cup - that is way too much!

The attractive lady in the office next to the bearded bloke has a fantastically decorated officespace. Now, you know where her time and energy is going. I even saw her tidy up her desk this morning.

There is another person who keeps glancing to the right wall while working. I am not suggesting there is a television hosted there. It might well be strategic acquisition plans or telephone numbers. But even though, I tried cocking my head to 33 degrees, and increasing the height of my chair to catch a better snapshot, it is a bit hard. So, I am going to go with the Television idea. OR I could brand her a narcissist in my mind, and assume a mirror filling the right wall.

The office above the bearded bloke and the attractive lady has been empty for 2 days in a row. What sort of employee takes time off during the holiday season - huh? huh? huh???

Gosh......I really need to be paid for stuff like this.

Candid Candy

What a paradox that 'Candy' and 'Candor' sound so similar, yet mean entirely different things. In fact, could there be such a thing as Candid Candy? Interestingly, these two words are etymologically different. Candy traces its origins to the French word, 'Candi' and the Arabic 'Qandi' made from crystallised sugar 'Qand'. Maybe that is the origin of names for the Indian sweet Kalakhand too.

Candor, on the other hand also traces its origin to French - 'Candeur' and Latin 'Candor'. Candor implies the absence of sugar-coating, or an honest opinion.

While I value candor, I love candy, and I need both in my life.

Blast from the Past

Yesterday, as I made my entry into the station, I stumbled upon a former colleague. It has been around half a decade since we had seen each other, and the hour's journey was not sufficient to catch up. As we were chatting about what happened to various people's lives, I realised that the particular project we had been colleagues in, was different in many ways. First, it was pulled through against enormous odds and second, most of us were practically living at the Bangalore office for almost 2 years!

So, when I did start talking about the various folks from the project, and the paths each had taken along life, it was certainly interesting. Much like pollen, we had scattered to various corners of the globe, and I suddenly realised that the only thing I remembered about folks were the good qualities in them. The friendly chatter, the kind hearted, the selfless. I am sure that there would have been unpleasant qualities that I'd have cribbed about when I was "in" the situation. As time passed however, only the happy moments stayed.

Though I have not stayed in touch with many them, there have been many a moment when I have thought about each of them. I am sure the converse is true, and the thought that I can go to some of them any time I need to, is comforting enough.

I stepped out of the train, and a person was looking at me intently, before hesitantly asking me whether I was working in Company 'X' 7 years ago. I nodded and found that he was the project mate of my best friend.

Well....well!

Vegetarianism

I am told it is a tradition. Somehow the news of Bush releasing 2 thanksgiving turkeys the day before Thanksgiving makes me really sad. Not for the fact that the turkeys can now live, but for the fact that when sitting down for Thanksgiving dinner the next day, you can visualise that it is remarkably similar to the birds that took flight yesterday.

I try to rationalize that when people are served processed meat, they are not thinking about the animal in question. Fair enough: how often do we think of the condition of the cows when drinking milk? Had we lived on the farm, and Bessie the cow was not feeling well, or wanted a walk instead of giving milk, we might have let Bessie out on the pastures before approaching her when she feels like giving milk. In the store, there is just reduced fat, lowfat and whole milk. Bessie might have been sleeping when the milk was taken from her - but, we don't know that, and that absolves us of waking a cow deep in slumber.

So now my question comes back to relating the animal to the meat on the table. Do people do that, and when they do, does it trouble them or not? I am just trying to think of the meat-eating thought process here. Any insights are welcome. My vegetarianism from birth has endowed me with only 1 view.

Crusades: Imagination Vs Imagination

Eyes large as saucers, voices as vehement as can get, we demanded:

"Who/What gives them the right to throw out processed, dry foods, and that too at Bangalore airport?"

The group, gathered around a table with sumptuous food, demanded between tasty mouthfuls. It was actually quite an effort to sound affronted when every movement sent a divine taste surging through the tongue. But, we are all known to be a determined lot, and piqued we were.

The topic under discussion was that one of my aunts was forced to leave behind much of her belongings at Bangalore airport. The "sambhar podi", and the various dried powders that can be mixed with boiled rice were all thrown out, we were told by our every chagrined parents. They had heard the news from one of their neices, who must have sounded quite convincing, because it actually prevented them from carrying too many things. We discussed the possible causes, criteria used by the airport authorities in such cases, and sounded rightfully indignant about the whole process.

Later that afternoon we placed a call to the aforesaid aunt, and tried to learn the magnitude of her losses. Come to think of it, my mother started out on quite an apologetic note while asking about it. She explained that she had a tube of Bengay in her hand-carry by mistake, and was forced to throw that out in Frankfurt airport. That apart, some other food packets of hers, were placed in check-in baggage, instead of the hand-baggage. That was all there was to the whole story!

I cannot imagine how many rounds this story must have made, before reaching my parents in its current shape! Every story-teller tied their own ribbons and balloons to the story. Soon the story took its current form:

A monstrous team was out on a vicious rampage at Bangalore airport, stripping legitimate travellers of their chutney mixes, and filter coffee.

I can't help remembering the cartoon we used to see on Doordarshan about the balloon that burst in a house. Soon, the story takes on epic proportions before police arrive on the scene fearing a violent gunshot crime-scene, only to find a disappointed little girl, looking quite sullen because her balloon burst!

I am now seriously wondering the basis on which religious wars are fought. Most of our religious books were passed down through generations by word of mouth before getting penned as books. So, we use the combined imaginations of centuries to take offense against another form moulded by centuries of ... imagination!

Ramblings of a Marathon Support Group Member

I do not wish to belittle the achievement by stating it as another marathon. Nevertheless, yesterday my husband finished another marathon along with 2 of our close friends.

The arduous hours of training, the "interesting" pain(Yes - he does state that the wrenching pain is interesting!), the accompanying medal were all taken in the spirit of a true sportsman. While volumes get written about the marathoners, nothing gets written about the support groups (in this case, a sturdy troupe comprising of the 3 wives, 1 toddler and a teenager). So, I have decided to pen the support experience.

Through the training sessions and the carb-loading phase prior to the Marathon, the support group has no mean task. There you are, with your unswerving loyalty to your loved ones, dishing out all the wonderful dishes. There is the potato fry (just the right shade of golden with the crispy texture), the fluffy rice and the creamy soups. On the subject of potatoes, I could swear they mock you from the frying pan, and just would not stop enticing you till the darn dish is over. I could feel the extra burden during the carb-loading phase. The only thing I can thank God for, is that the carb-loading is a short span of time. I ran a pantry in the kitchen serving hot dishes every 3 hours. You could judge by the loose pajamas I wore that day to make room for the extra carbs.

All the carbs safely tucked in, the marathon day arrived. While the runners braved the early morning weather to venture into the first part of their marathon, we, the supporters braved the roads and got together with bananas, apples and baked potatoes at the Mile 18 touch-point. I had mild butterflies in my stomach, just hoping that they will be fine and running sans injuries. Already, we knew one of them had an injury and had slowed down. At this point I could tell you that no amount of carb-loading prepares you for the elated sensation you get when you see one of your close friends running towards you in steady strides. You want to tuck into some baked potatoes for support, but you refrain. One must have self-control!

We stood watching groups of people run by. The plan was for us to give the runners a boost at Mile 18 with baked potatoes and bananas, and then head to Starbucks to get a boost for our hoarse throats and proceed onto Mile 21 and then to the finish line. It turns out that there was a mis-reading, and that the Mile-18 point was indeed Mile-15, and we had missed 2 of the 3 guys.

We are a sacrificial lot, as mentioned earlier, and we decided to forgo the Starbucks visit, and dash it to Mile-21. We checked our watches, and sped away as fast as our cars would take us without drawing the attention of cops. During this particular ride, my toddler decided to fall asleep. So now, we parked at the 21-mile point, lugged a 2-year old on my shoulder and legged it across a Farmer's market cum bakery exhibition (I swear the temptation never stops!) to cheer the boys on. Guess what, they just left!

We now had the dubious reputation of chasing the marathon runners by car, and they were leading!

This was no time for dilly-dallying. Decisions had to be made, and fast. We decided to look askance at the wafting smells of baked products, and got back into the car, determined to get to the finish line before they did, and guess what?

WE DID! HA!

We reached the finish line ahead of the runners, and managed a decent photo shoot at the very end at least!

Great job guys: No mean feat. I am proud of you all!
Good job support group: No mean f(e)at.

Football Shoes

I may have to acknowledge my brother-in-law's prophetic powers here. Last year, during their visit to the US, I had blogged a post called 'Children of Heaven'. The blog drew attention to the shoes my nephew purchased. They were football shoes for heaven's sake. Of course, we all tried rationalising with him that football shoes may never be used by him. He enlisted my brother-in-law's support and got himself Nike football shoes.

A whole year has lapsed since. Here is what my sister had to report from Dubai:

You know Siddarth is not 'into cricket' these days 'coz it stinks'! The 'cool dudes' are 'more into football these days' ! I think the 'these days' started soon after the World Cup...the Ronaldo...Ronaldino types started with all those appalling hair styles. Siddarth only wears sleeveless T-shirts nowadays to show off his 'biceps' and he eats every meal only for his 'biceps'!!!

Yesterday, he was making lists in every scrap of paper in the house....he called it 'Team Planning'. There were phone calls being made and received from all the 'dudes' the whole afternoon and heated discussions were on. I usually do my best to ignore all this unless it gets out of hand and I find it difficult to live in the house..! Then I called and enquired...all hell had broken loose!

Here is the narrative :
Siddu : Amma,you know Pranith? Okay...he is the football hunk of our class and he was the captain of our team!
Me : What 'team' are you talking about? I thought athletics practice is going on in school now for the Sports Day?
Siddu : Yeah...that's going on, Maaa- that's the first thing we do every morning before class! These are football matches...are you going to listen to me?
Me : Oh...I will listen...go on.
Siddu : Can you believe what Pranith did yesterday? Something real daft!! He went and scored a goal for the opposite team!! He actually 'sent the ball into the goalpost for 6B' !! Isn't that real dumb?
Me : Yeah...I guess it is quite dumb!!! So what happened?
Siddu : The whole team said ' Down Down Pranith' and pooed him out of being the captain! Dumb Pranith!
Me : Ummmm....then...
Siddu : Usually whichever dude is the VC ( Vice Captain!!) gets to be the captain,right??
Me : Yeah right.
Siddu : This silly dude is Pranith's pal and turned the post down! So all the guys voted me to be the Captain! So the great Siddarth is the Captain of 6A!!!!
Me : Oh! Good. That's why you are so busy, is it?
Siddu : Yeah...I need to plan the team before tomorrow's match, right! The Centre Forward,Mid Forward the Defender, Goal Keeper...do you know all this at all??
Me : No da...I don't know much about football!Siddu : You are such a bore, maa! One day when I have time...I will teach you!
Me : BTW, Siddu when is the match?
Siddu : Everyday,Maa..we play 6B every day during the break!
Me : Oh...who conducts these matches?
Siddu : Us! But 'football sir' gave us a 'thums up' so that the school team gets stronger!

She then reports that this whole match thing is the break time play of these dumsies, and that there is a big gang mafia going on in the break time!

I wish I were around to see some of these "matches"!

Background Music

Did you know I was a radio star? I have performed a few times on the All India Radio (I meant that to sound pompous) Before you go and start searching for my name in the halls of fame, let me put it in context. There is only 1 important characteristic in all those programs. Nobody can make out that it was me. The only way one could have guessed is by listening to the announcement prior to the program proclaiming my name in the list of students performing.

To be fair to my father, he recorded one event. When he rewound the tape and listened to the program again, he figured it would be enough to just retain the announcement section, since the rest of the program could have been performed by anybody. So, he promptly used the tape to record M.S.Subbulakshmi songs when he got a chance. It would have been nice to have the announcement proclaiming my performance followed by MS singing. Tut Tut....That was not to be: the announcement got over-written too.

So my claim to fame is solely by word of mouth. It goes like this: List of students in today's program: Subashini, Venkat, ............., Saumya,......!

I was a versatile performer. I sang at times(never solo lest you start bad-mouthing AIR), and some other times performed in skits. The school stationery manager stepped forward gallantly and mentioned that he had left an illustrious career in the theatrical industry to serve the school, and therefore he should be the person who provided the background music skits. We nodded and the practice sessions started.

To state it as mildly as possible, the background music was HORRENDOUS. Every place in the play where you think some quietness would do, there was music blaring. Some other places where mild music would have done the trick, we had garish music making us shout out every line in order to be heard over the music. I would not call the program a fiasco, but there were no folks waiting outside for autographs. The highlight of all this drama was the lunch we ate at Annapoorna restaurant in Coimbatore (Plus: the day-off from School to drive down to Coimbatore, perform and get back)

There are times in my life when I envision my life as a movie, and there is background music. So I see myself cooking *Sax playing mildly indicating a chef's beauty being developed* Never mind that I am making Rasam and vendakkai curry. It provides spice in my life! The washing clothes, folding them section gets a banal harmonium. Playing with my daughter and taking her on walks gets melodious flute accompaniment.

I have worked hard at directing my life, so why not revel in my role as music director?!

Wars

I know why the US starts wars in far-off lands.

It is a place to groom future presidents.

X: I am going to contest the presidency
X's much older opponent Y: Which wars did you fight in huh? Come on you! Tell me which war you fought in?
X: None
Y: NONE!!!!
X: But...but there were no wars for me to go to.
Y: Well..too bad. There is no metric to measure your patriotism. I went for the War in Dracola Land. I know the pain and suffering and I would like to use this office to make the world a better place to live in. So you're out!