Eeeeeeeeeeeyoooooon
Eeeeeeeeeeeyoooooon
Eeeeeeeeeeeyoooooon
The incessant alarm got the better of my drooping eyelids, and I willed them to open, before half-heartedly leaving the cozy coves of my bed in the middle of the night. As it turns out, somebody's car alarm had gone off, and would not stop. Evidently, this was not the owner. But how do we decide what to do?
In the safe confines of our home, the course of action was unanimous: Go out and see who it is. I hold the supreme glory of casting doubts over everybody's aura of confidence by suggesting that the thief may be armed, could even have a gun, since guns are so easy to procure in the country. The story was now different - I watched the cloud of doubt waver and hang thickly over our heads. From brave strides, I watched the strides diminish to stealthy tiptoes, and "see who it is" deteriorated to "sneak a peak"!
The security agency was summoned, and I went to bed, musing about another episode, that had an entire street out in the early morning cold when a thief frequented our home in Chennai.
Belonging to the water-starved population of Chennai, my mother-in-law was extremely sensitive to the sound of gushing water. This unfortunate thief stumbled upon a pot of water, and set off that exact alarm. It was around 5 a.m., and soon the household was abuzz with trepidation.
"AHOI! AHOI!", screamed the menfolk into the darkness of the night, obviously in a bid to frighten the thief away.
The men conducted a meeting downstairs to gauge the movement and whereabouts of this fellow, while I was a silent observer of the goings-on from the balcony above. I observed that the men who proclaimed the loudest, that the best option was to storm into the backyard, were the ones farthest away from the backyard. Furthermore, they showed no signs of budging from their positions of command. The self-proclaimed early riser was busy defending his stance that he was up at usual at 4:30 a.m., and did not hear anything.
After a while, I heard a faint rumble. It grew louder and louder: I was alone upstairs, and had not much choice. I made up my mind on the next course of action, and briskly walked towards the dimly lit kitchen.
My stomach could stand the rumblings no longer, and I treated myself to a couple of hot dosas while the commotion slowly died down.
With the dosas in my tummy, I mused about the unfortunate plight and high stress levels of the career paths of thieves. They also share a queer relationship with society: Society fears them, and they fear Society.
Friday, February 24, 2006
Thursday, February 23, 2006
Peas in a Pod
I stopped short in my tracks as I headed into my workspot the other day. There she was - shopping around again in the same stores as I have! And, she has to buy the same colour too! So, there we were looking like 2 peas in a pod, while folks gleefully took note and asked us whether we had been planning this event. You see the same thing had happened twice in the same week!
* What's the big deal? *
Just this, I have spent a good part of my non-uniform clad childhood days wearing the same clothes as my sister and mark this: the girl next door! So, I react pretty much like a scalded cat when I see people dressed in same clothes. My father belonged to an elite clan of shareholders of a textile mill: so much so that when we walked into the showroom, all salesfolk came to personally attend to us, and served us with coffee and tea! (My theory was that, all salesfolk need to attend to the sole customers in the store, don't they?!)
The cloth purchased there was fantastic - there are no doubts about that. Some of the clothes have neither faded nor sport a tear after all these years! To top this, they had better rates for wholesale goods i.e. LOTS of cloth. My father - the economist who, would consume 3 cups of tea if they were offered for Rs.10 as opposed to Rs 5 per cup, bought into this scheme, and realms of cloth used to make their way home.
So, it was arranged for the rest of our childhood days that my sister's salwar kameez, my frock and my neigbour's frock would all be tailored from the same cloth. In fact, I even remember one instance when a cotton skirt for me, a salwar kameez for my sister and a curtain in our home were from the same cloth. Everytime I wore that skirt, I would pray that guests were not observant enough to match up the curtains and my skirt.
I wonder if my next-door friend remembers the clothes as vividly as I do! For me, I remember every tiny pattern on the clothes - how can one forget if we all looked like peas in a pod?!
* What's the big deal? *
Just this, I have spent a good part of my non-uniform clad childhood days wearing the same clothes as my sister and mark this: the girl next door! So, I react pretty much like a scalded cat when I see people dressed in same clothes. My father belonged to an elite clan of shareholders of a textile mill: so much so that when we walked into the showroom, all salesfolk came to personally attend to us, and served us with coffee and tea! (My theory was that, all salesfolk need to attend to the sole customers in the store, don't they?!)
The cloth purchased there was fantastic - there are no doubts about that. Some of the clothes have neither faded nor sport a tear after all these years! To top this, they had better rates for wholesale goods i.e. LOTS of cloth. My father - the economist who, would consume 3 cups of tea if they were offered for Rs.10 as opposed to Rs 5 per cup, bought into this scheme, and realms of cloth used to make their way home.
So, it was arranged for the rest of our childhood days that my sister's salwar kameez, my frock and my neigbour's frock would all be tailored from the same cloth. In fact, I even remember one instance when a cotton skirt for me, a salwar kameez for my sister and a curtain in our home were from the same cloth. Everytime I wore that skirt, I would pray that guests were not observant enough to match up the curtains and my skirt.
I wonder if my next-door friend remembers the clothes as vividly as I do! For me, I remember every tiny pattern on the clothes - how can one forget if we all looked like peas in a pod?!
Friday, February 17, 2006
The Letter "Esssssssssssssss"
My name is spelt as "Esssssssssssssssssss-a-u-m-y-a"
Twas the time when the milk teeth was a vanishing brood, and power cuts were the order of the day. The candles would be lit, and they would bring forth light (not enlightenment as is evident)As you don your mask of innocence, and say the letter "S", the family would watch on in dark glee as the candles fluttered, before dying out in the wind...."OOOPSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!"
I remember hearing with awe the fact that a powercut in Mumbai made it to National News! This morning, as I beat the morning yawns and legged it to the office - I was told that there had been an unexpected power outage, and we were welcome to go strolling in the park till power was restored - unless of course we had some work that did not require a computer! A generation ago that would have meant work as usual. But for us, it meant childlike glee!
Off we went gallivanting around town, picking flowers and sipping coffee before our world turned dim by the arrival of bright lights. Sadly, there were no candles to say the letter 'S' in front of.
Twas the time when the milk teeth was a vanishing brood, and power cuts were the order of the day. The candles would be lit, and they would bring forth light (not enlightenment as is evident)As you don your mask of innocence, and say the letter "S", the family would watch on in dark glee as the candles fluttered, before dying out in the wind...."OOOPSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!"
I remember hearing with awe the fact that a powercut in Mumbai made it to National News! This morning, as I beat the morning yawns and legged it to the office - I was told that there had been an unexpected power outage, and we were welcome to go strolling in the park till power was restored - unless of course we had some work that did not require a computer! A generation ago that would have meant work as usual. But for us, it meant childlike glee!
Off we went gallivanting around town, picking flowers and sipping coffee before our world turned dim by the arrival of bright lights. Sadly, there were no candles to say the letter 'S' in front of.
Friday, February 10, 2006
Couch Sporting
I'm sure people would call me a spoilt brat when it comes to exposure to sports - way more than a lot of children in India can afford. The School I grew up in had 14 large playgrounds, 7 tennis courts, a huge gymnasium, a swimming pool and even a squash court on the premises. Not that I accomplished much with all this, but I loved Sports, and have spent many an enjoyable evening on the playground.
Considering all of the above, you would consider me a decent "Couch Sporter"(a term I just coined to refer to those who immensely enjoy watching sports), wouldn't you?!
*Shakes head remorsefully* Tut Tut!
I simply cannot bring myself to watch a game. I attended the Lakers Vs Mavericks Game in a Stadium, and loved the experience! There were lots of people, pop corn, a complimentary clapper to create a ruckus in the name of clapping and a bunch of enthusiastic friends who were explaining the rules of the game to me.
Verdict: I enjoyed the acrobats' performance in the break-time more than anything else.
My office has been abuzz with the Super Bowl over the past couple of days. Many an American wife have I heard whimper that her hitherto affectionate partner will transform into a partially deaf person with a beer in hand on this particular evening. I banished my past apathy to sport viewing and tried again - I sat with my affectionate partner during the Super Bowl, and watched people ram into each other, while he explained the game to me.
Verdict: I found the advertisements more intriguing.
Cricket, a sport that has wooed countries of people fails to charm me as a watch-worthy Sport. This is one sport that enthralls all sections of people in our Society - yet, I find the game lackadaisical. In fact, many an ignorant year have I spent not knowing the difference between a "Six" and a "Four". When I did want to know, I held back cringing at others' perception of my own ignorance! One day, I braced myself for the worst, and asked a classmate of mine. I am sure he reserves better stares for worms before he crushes them under his foot. He tottered, and his speech stammered before he finally enlightened me!
I didn't even try watching this game, since it spans a whole day!
Oh what better method to ignore the chores at home, turn a deaf ear to all the ramblings, and shove in the bad calories that accompany the good snacks? Well...I will just have to live with the fact that Couch Sporting may be one of those gifts that I am not endowed with!
Considering all of the above, you would consider me a decent "Couch Sporter"(a term I just coined to refer to those who immensely enjoy watching sports), wouldn't you?!
*Shakes head remorsefully* Tut Tut!
I simply cannot bring myself to watch a game. I attended the Lakers Vs Mavericks Game in a Stadium, and loved the experience! There were lots of people, pop corn, a complimentary clapper to create a ruckus in the name of clapping and a bunch of enthusiastic friends who were explaining the rules of the game to me.
Verdict: I enjoyed the acrobats' performance in the break-time more than anything else.
My office has been abuzz with the Super Bowl over the past couple of days. Many an American wife have I heard whimper that her hitherto affectionate partner will transform into a partially deaf person with a beer in hand on this particular evening. I banished my past apathy to sport viewing and tried again - I sat with my affectionate partner during the Super Bowl, and watched people ram into each other, while he explained the game to me.
Verdict: I found the advertisements more intriguing.
Cricket, a sport that has wooed countries of people fails to charm me as a watch-worthy Sport. This is one sport that enthralls all sections of people in our Society - yet, I find the game lackadaisical. In fact, many an ignorant year have I spent not knowing the difference between a "Six" and a "Four". When I did want to know, I held back cringing at others' perception of my own ignorance! One day, I braced myself for the worst, and asked a classmate of mine. I am sure he reserves better stares for worms before he crushes them under his foot. He tottered, and his speech stammered before he finally enlightened me!
I didn't even try watching this game, since it spans a whole day!
Oh what better method to ignore the chores at home, turn a deaf ear to all the ramblings, and shove in the bad calories that accompany the good snacks? Well...I will just have to live with the fact that Couch Sporting may be one of those gifts that I am not endowed with!
Thursday, January 26, 2006
What's in a Name?
1) Name Concatenation (Regional deviation for South Indian Names)
My own explanation for name concatenations is that people try to appease the Gods by naming their offspring after them. Alas, the ratio between Number of children produced: Number of Gods they love is seldom 1:1. So, to appease all the Gods and themselves, they give the hapless one all the names rolled into one.
My Grandfather was an extremely pious man - I still remember him to be one of those people who was constantly chanting the name of God. An altruistic philanthropist, his love for God was imminent in the names he bestowed on his children. But he had too many Gods to please and the younger ones bore the brunt of taking on more name baggage. Why else would my youngest uncle be saddled with a name like Siva-Rama-Krishnan Kalyanam-Iyer?! (Because Shankara, Srinivasa, Subramania and Narasimha Gods were all duly honoured. By the time the 9th child was born, it was probably clear that 3 more boys may be a bit of a difficult target, and he settled for "Siva-Rama-Krishnan" instead.)
Apart from the aforementioned sons, he had 4 daughters, who he named as *Lakshmi. The Goddess smiled at his gesture, and gave him his daughters-in-law named bearing the remaining *Lakshmi names. So, we had 9 *Lakshmis in the immediate family -
(Santha, Maha(2 in number), Vijaya, Subbu, Raja, Seetha, Muthu, Jaya) * Lakshmi
2) Pretty Names
I, for one was hoping my sister would have three daughters, because I loved the names of 3 pretty sounding chemical names in my Chemistry lesson when she was pregnant.
"Oceana, Galena & Publica", I proclaimed, "would be their names". She could call the first one, "Oshi"! I have spent many an enjoyable afternoon taunting her with these names. It must have been at this juncture that she fervently prayed for a boy instead of giving her children horrendous chemical names! Thankfully, I matured out of this phase before my own daughter was born!
3) Names inspired by Someone/Something
The successful character in the Novel you read, that sweet daughter of a friend - they all play a role. During the time we were selecting my brother's name, I was actively involved in the process. I would bring to the dinner table all names I fancied. The name of my classmate who was kind, the name of my best friend, the one who caught a worm - anybody!
"Tony", I proclaimed one night. The truth was Tony had lent me a sharpener that day, and I saw no reason why anybody would not want to name my brother "Tony". Aforementioned pious Hindu grandfather's son got a jolt, and the name was dropped!
4) Rhyming Names
If you do want rhyming names for your children, would you need to take that aspect into consideration while naming the first child, or would it be a consideration when naming the second one? In any case, it does sound nice when sisters tell you their names are "Savitha & Kavitha" or "Archana & Aradhana"
Point to Ponder: How do you know which one is being referred to when parents bellow the whole name? Probably not prudent to question the foghorn at this juncture. The wiser thing to do would be to wait for the next broadcast before responding would be my guess!
5) Crocodile Names
There are more ways than 1 to get creative while naming children. My greatfather, decided to play the Crocodile game while naming his offspring:
Sethuraman
Ramakrishnan
Krishnaswamy
Swaminathan
Ah well....what's in a name?
My own explanation for name concatenations is that people try to appease the Gods by naming their offspring after them. Alas, the ratio between Number of children produced: Number of Gods they love is seldom 1:1. So, to appease all the Gods and themselves, they give the hapless one all the names rolled into one.
My Grandfather was an extremely pious man - I still remember him to be one of those people who was constantly chanting the name of God. An altruistic philanthropist, his love for God was imminent in the names he bestowed on his children. But he had too many Gods to please and the younger ones bore the brunt of taking on more name baggage. Why else would my youngest uncle be saddled with a name like Siva-Rama-Krishnan Kalyanam-Iyer?! (Because Shankara, Srinivasa, Subramania and Narasimha Gods were all duly honoured. By the time the 9th child was born, it was probably clear that 3 more boys may be a bit of a difficult target, and he settled for "Siva-Rama-Krishnan" instead.)
Apart from the aforementioned sons, he had 4 daughters, who he named as *Lakshmi. The Goddess smiled at his gesture, and gave him his daughters-in-law named bearing the remaining *Lakshmi names. So, we had 9 *Lakshmis in the immediate family -
(Santha, Maha(2 in number), Vijaya, Subbu, Raja, Seetha, Muthu, Jaya) * Lakshmi
2) Pretty Names
I, for one was hoping my sister would have three daughters, because I loved the names of 3 pretty sounding chemical names in my Chemistry lesson when she was pregnant.
"Oceana, Galena & Publica", I proclaimed, "would be their names". She could call the first one, "Oshi"! I have spent many an enjoyable afternoon taunting her with these names. It must have been at this juncture that she fervently prayed for a boy instead of giving her children horrendous chemical names! Thankfully, I matured out of this phase before my own daughter was born!
3) Names inspired by Someone/Something
The successful character in the Novel you read, that sweet daughter of a friend - they all play a role. During the time we were selecting my brother's name, I was actively involved in the process. I would bring to the dinner table all names I fancied. The name of my classmate who was kind, the name of my best friend, the one who caught a worm - anybody!
"Tony", I proclaimed one night. The truth was Tony had lent me a sharpener that day, and I saw no reason why anybody would not want to name my brother "Tony". Aforementioned pious Hindu grandfather's son got a jolt, and the name was dropped!
4) Rhyming Names
If you do want rhyming names for your children, would you need to take that aspect into consideration while naming the first child, or would it be a consideration when naming the second one? In any case, it does sound nice when sisters tell you their names are "Savitha & Kavitha" or "Archana & Aradhana"
Point to Ponder: How do you know which one is being referred to when parents bellow the whole name? Probably not prudent to question the foghorn at this juncture. The wiser thing to do would be to wait for the next broadcast before responding would be my guess!
5) Crocodile Names
There are more ways than 1 to get creative while naming children. My greatfather, decided to play the Crocodile game while naming his offspring:
Sethuraman
Ramakrishnan
Krishnaswamy
Swaminathan
Ah well....what's in a name?
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
A New Genre in the Footwear Industry
Boots, Clogs, Lace up (Oxford Style & Derby Style), Mocassin, Mule, Sport Sandals, Casual Sandals, Monks, Pumps, Sport shoes - running shoes, tennis shoes and sneakers. To this impressive list, I have the honor of adding a new genre. The latest entry into the footwear world is trend-setting, and multi-functional. I chanced on this model quite by accident. For people seeking asymmetry and anatomical variations for ideal fit, this model is surprisingly scalable and what is more, one size fits all!
Ladies & Gentlemen: Welcome the PLASTIC COVER!!
My prized discovery stems from an act of nonchalance. I had decided to wear a pretty pair of slippers to work that eventful day. I was waiting for my train to arrive, while I toyed with a pebble on the platform. I decided to clear the platform of this menace by kicking it onto the tracks. Not only did I get the pebble out of the way, I also sent my slipper along for company. I watched the trajectile motion of the slipper before it landed with a dull thump on the tracks over 10 feet below. The innocent pebble seemed to mock me from below - I ignored it's daunting gaze, and willed my slipper to climb back on.
Things were happening fast now - my train pulled into the platform, and I was forced to hobble into the train with one foot in a slipper. At this juncture, I can describe exactly how prized asses must feel: there is a tingling sensation in the barefoot, the body tilts at 10 degrees, ears flush and cheek colouring approaches crimson. Add to this, the exclamations from well-dressed commuters in Business attires and embarrassment is replete!
Well meaning co-commuters were questioning how I had managed a thing as daft as throwing out my own slipper. Fellow passengers who had witnessed the event at the station volunteered with more information for those not within hearing distance of my own explanation. Let's just say I blushed all the way home! Some people even advised me on the pragmatic use of shoes with laces!
As my station approached, I was touched by the number of people who offered me a ride home. One lady offered me a sock that she had bought that day. I politely declined the offer. Soon, I was presented with the perfect solution - the plastic cover. "At least, you won't step on gum!" as one commuter put it! This plastic cover requires no frills - only a pant under which to tuck the cover so that it does not slip off.
Speed and dexterity are minor compromises to be endured in this model. That apart, I sailed home like a sailboat on a perfectly windless day!
Ladies & Gentlemen: Welcome the PLASTIC COVER!!
My prized discovery stems from an act of nonchalance. I had decided to wear a pretty pair of slippers to work that eventful day. I was waiting for my train to arrive, while I toyed with a pebble on the platform. I decided to clear the platform of this menace by kicking it onto the tracks. Not only did I get the pebble out of the way, I also sent my slipper along for company. I watched the trajectile motion of the slipper before it landed with a dull thump on the tracks over 10 feet below. The innocent pebble seemed to mock me from below - I ignored it's daunting gaze, and willed my slipper to climb back on.
Things were happening fast now - my train pulled into the platform, and I was forced to hobble into the train with one foot in a slipper. At this juncture, I can describe exactly how prized asses must feel: there is a tingling sensation in the barefoot, the body tilts at 10 degrees, ears flush and cheek colouring approaches crimson. Add to this, the exclamations from well-dressed commuters in Business attires and embarrassment is replete!
Well meaning co-commuters were questioning how I had managed a thing as daft as throwing out my own slipper. Fellow passengers who had witnessed the event at the station volunteered with more information for those not within hearing distance of my own explanation. Let's just say I blushed all the way home! Some people even advised me on the pragmatic use of shoes with laces!
As my station approached, I was touched by the number of people who offered me a ride home. One lady offered me a sock that she had bought that day. I politely declined the offer. Soon, I was presented with the perfect solution - the plastic cover. "At least, you won't step on gum!" as one commuter put it! This plastic cover requires no frills - only a pant under which to tuck the cover so that it does not slip off.
Speed and dexterity are minor compromises to be endured in this model. That apart, I sailed home like a sailboat on a perfectly windless day!
Friday, January 13, 2006
Whale Watching
We had been to Point Reyes (a point on the scenic Pacific Coast in California, where whales are spotted with relative ease). However, the highlight of the visit turned out to be cows! The one-year old Fauna Research Crew Head in our team was fast asleep, exhausted from the long drive there, and her Grandmother practically had a hyper-tension attack everytime she missed another 4-legged creature. Normally, my mother is not excited enough to steer all conversations towards cows, if she chances upon a couple of them sitting by the roadside.
Every time an individual reacts in a certain way, there should have been a Cause i.e. the Cause-Effect Phenomenon. As it turns out, the reason for the exalted proclamations on seeing cows was an innocent visit to the Zoo a few weeks earlier. We had endeavoured to show our little daughter 3-dimensional creatures, since she loves the 2-D versions of these that she sees in her picture books and Baby Einstein DVDs. We planned a day to the Zoo, and arrived there with a Picnic hamper full of Goodies, and had a hearty meal before embarking on the Zoo tour. We practised the Lion's roar, and the Elephant trumpet for good measure.
Four enthusiastic adults accompanied the toddler into the Grand Zoo. We had been to the sprawling Zoological Gardens in Mysore & Hyderabad, and my parents were eagerly looking forward to this visit. We went in, and saw the following animals:
1) Cow - 1 number
2) Donkey - 1 number
3) Horse - 1 number
4) Goats - 5 numbers
5) Sicilian Donkey - 1 number
6) Parrots/Tropical Birds - 5 numbers
7) Jaguar - 1 number (The only "Zoo-worthy" animal as my Father would say!)
8) Some Squirrels (I couldn't bother counting them **BORED FACE**)
By the above standards, every street corner in India was a Zoo! We had been to a Petting Zoo (I figured that out later of course!)
So, when my parents saw cows minding their own business and grazing quietly, they could not stomach the fact that we paid to see 1 cow, while this many cows were there for no fee. Thankfully for them, the little one got up, and drank in the scene! She even had the good fortune of seeing a newborn calf that day.
I would have been happy if they had saved their enthusiasm for spotting Whales at Point Reyes - but Female Whales or Mother Whales are called Cows, so I'll just have to settle for that!!
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
Shake Shake Shake-a-shake Shake Shake
Caution: This article may contain details that could offend the shakers in our midst. If you are really passionate about shaking your legs - proceed with caution.
What is with shaking one's limbs? I was on the same seat as a born "shaker" the other day, and I landed up getting motion sickness (not from the motion of the train)
Shake Shake Shake-a-shake Shake Shake
Shake Shake Shake-a-shake Shake Shake
I was trying to read a book, but the whole seat was reverbrating with the shaking legs.
I walk into a meeting, and find a person bobbing up and down while merrily shaking his legs! I am unable to shake this thought out of my mind while sharing the same room with them. My mind wills me to hold their legs and stop them from shaking, but decorum demands I ignore it.
There are different kinds of leg shaking too:
(a) The vertical spring shake: This shake has the shaker bobbing his leg up and down, while vigourously shaking the chair, and occasionally the table too.
(b) The horizontal sweep shake: This shake has the shaker freely moving their leg from left to right, with each knee moving away from each other and then, toward each other again.
(c) The cross-legged foot shake: This shaker has the shaker sitting cross-legged, and only shaking the foot of the leg on the upper leg.
Of the categories above, the most engaging kind of shaker is the horizontal sweep shaker, in my opinion. You sit next to this person, and you are constantly sizing up the distance between your leg and the farthest point in the shaker's pendulum-like swing with the corner of your eye. You need to be prepared to move your legs swiftly if the situation demands it, right?
But, just look at a person intently shaking their legs, and you will notice that they seem to be enjoying their routine quite a bit - Well..................one of these days, my alter ego is going to pop out, and stop those shaking legs!!!
What is with shaking one's limbs? I was on the same seat as a born "shaker" the other day, and I landed up getting motion sickness (not from the motion of the train)
Shake Shake Shake-a-shake Shake Shake
Shake Shake Shake-a-shake Shake Shake
I was trying to read a book, but the whole seat was reverbrating with the shaking legs.
I walk into a meeting, and find a person bobbing up and down while merrily shaking his legs! I am unable to shake this thought out of my mind while sharing the same room with them. My mind wills me to hold their legs and stop them from shaking, but decorum demands I ignore it.
There are different kinds of leg shaking too:
(a) The vertical spring shake: This shake has the shaker bobbing his leg up and down, while vigourously shaking the chair, and occasionally the table too.
(b) The horizontal sweep shake: This shake has the shaker freely moving their leg from left to right, with each knee moving away from each other and then, toward each other again.
(c) The cross-legged foot shake: This shaker has the shaker sitting cross-legged, and only shaking the foot of the leg on the upper leg.
Of the categories above, the most engaging kind of shaker is the horizontal sweep shaker, in my opinion. You sit next to this person, and you are constantly sizing up the distance between your leg and the farthest point in the shaker's pendulum-like swing with the corner of your eye. You need to be prepared to move your legs swiftly if the situation demands it, right?
But, just look at a person intently shaking their legs, and you will notice that they seem to be enjoying their routine quite a bit - Well..................one of these days, my alter ego is going to pop out, and stop those shaking legs!!!
Friday, December 23, 2005
What's religious about it?
Christmas is round the corner - the streets are lit up, people have a spring in their steps, shopping goes on in a frenzy. Santa is charming his way into the hearts of thousands of children. Though, the origins of the festival are religious in nature, I don't see any religious bearings about it now. I feel like partaking in the celebration, though I don't visit Church.
The same can be said about Diwali - the festival of lights in India. The origins of the festival had religious bearings, but today it is more of a merry time with lots of sweets, time with family, new clothes and ornaments. The whole community feels inclined to partake in the celebrations.
Since most of the fun about festivals is the fact that the community enjoys it as a whole, when people migrate to another part of the world, is it but natural for them to adapt to the new festivals? Why can't my Diwali be celebrated around Thanksgiving time in the US? I'll start my own tradition of Onion sambhar and piping hot idlis for Thanksgiving dinner (with laddoos for dessert)! That gives us ample time with family, and opens up the festive mood. Every so often, I find myself rushing home from work to celebrate Krishna Jayanthi, Diwali & Pongal. I would like to morph Navarathri with Christmas. I could innovate my idol display with Christmas day decorations, and have cows, sheep and camels squatting under my X-mas tree!
Or.....I could just continue doing what I am doing now. Celebrate everything - be it Thanksgiving or Diwali, Krishna Jayanthi or Christmas, Navarathri, Tamil New Year, English New Year, Easter, Karthigai and many, many more! If being happy is the motive of these festivals, why not take every conceivable occasion to spread joy?!
Happy Holiday Season to Everybody - HO HO HO!!!
The same can be said about Diwali - the festival of lights in India. The origins of the festival had religious bearings, but today it is more of a merry time with lots of sweets, time with family, new clothes and ornaments. The whole community feels inclined to partake in the celebrations.
Since most of the fun about festivals is the fact that the community enjoys it as a whole, when people migrate to another part of the world, is it but natural for them to adapt to the new festivals? Why can't my Diwali be celebrated around Thanksgiving time in the US? I'll start my own tradition of Onion sambhar and piping hot idlis for Thanksgiving dinner (with laddoos for dessert)! That gives us ample time with family, and opens up the festive mood. Every so often, I find myself rushing home from work to celebrate Krishna Jayanthi, Diwali & Pongal. I would like to morph Navarathri with Christmas. I could innovate my idol display with Christmas day decorations, and have cows, sheep and camels squatting under my X-mas tree!
Or.....I could just continue doing what I am doing now. Celebrate everything - be it Thanksgiving or Diwali, Krishna Jayanthi or Christmas, Navarathri, Tamil New Year, English New Year, Easter, Karthigai and many, many more! If being happy is the motive of these festivals, why not take every conceivable occasion to spread joy?!
Happy Holiday Season to Everybody - HO HO HO!!!
Thursday, December 15, 2005
Dear Developer:
Recently, I was reading a blog on Echo's site, referring to the Indian software engineers' plight. I could identify with every aspect of it!
Indian software companies have quite a hierarchical structure - there are software engineers, senior software engineers, analysts, module leaders, project leaders, project managers, delivery managers, group delivery managers - you get the picture (The managed:manager ratio is sometimes as high as 1:1!)
Each of these people in the value chain need to feel valued, and feel obliged to contribute their share to the steaming cauldron already roasting developers in a hot pot of oil, over a slow fire.
A new proposal has been submitted, and after several victorious toasts by the marketing team, the project makes its way across the shores. A hapless set of developers are assigned to the project. A day into reading the requirements, and the optimistic developer is dreaming of how he should execute it perfectly this time...and then, he hears the timeline!
Developer To Module Leader: WHAT?! I know for certain this cannot be completed on time because of the following reasons:
(a) .....
(b) .....
(c) .....
Note: All reasons by the developer are in most cases valid!
Module Leader To Project Leader: I have spoken to the team, and it is certainly a challenge to take on this project, and commit to the timelines
Project Leader To Project Manager: The team feels there are certain difficulties in completing this project, but I am positive we can tackle these problems, given that we have x people on the team.
Project Manager To Delivery Manager: We have a wonderful team in place - all hard-working, bright people. So, though there may be some issues, I am sure we can deliver quality results in record time!
The Delivery Manager at this point smiles smugly (This may just be the break he was looking for in his career - a project that gets delivered ahead of schedule, if a little extra pressure is applied!)
Delivery Manager To Group Delivery Manager: We have an enthusiastic team in place, and am confident the project will be successful.
So, dear developer: Do not fret. Your conscience is clear. You have the right to voice your concerns, but management reserves the right to hear them!
Indian software companies have quite a hierarchical structure - there are software engineers, senior software engineers, analysts, module leaders, project leaders, project managers, delivery managers, group delivery managers - you get the picture (The managed:manager ratio is sometimes as high as 1:1!)
Each of these people in the value chain need to feel valued, and feel obliged to contribute their share to the steaming cauldron already roasting developers in a hot pot of oil, over a slow fire.
A new proposal has been submitted, and after several victorious toasts by the marketing team, the project makes its way across the shores. A hapless set of developers are assigned to the project. A day into reading the requirements, and the optimistic developer is dreaming of how he should execute it perfectly this time...and then, he hears the timeline!
Developer To Module Leader: WHAT?! I know for certain this cannot be completed on time because of the following reasons:
(a) .....
(b) .....
(c) .....
Note: All reasons by the developer are in most cases valid!
Module Leader To Project Leader: I have spoken to the team, and it is certainly a challenge to take on this project, and commit to the timelines
Project Leader To Project Manager: The team feels there are certain difficulties in completing this project, but I am positive we can tackle these problems, given that we have x people on the team.
Project Manager To Delivery Manager: We have a wonderful team in place - all hard-working, bright people. So, though there may be some issues, I am sure we can deliver quality results in record time!
The Delivery Manager at this point smiles smugly (This may just be the break he was looking for in his career - a project that gets delivered ahead of schedule, if a little extra pressure is applied!)
Delivery Manager To Group Delivery Manager: We have an enthusiastic team in place, and am confident the project will be successful.
So, dear developer: Do not fret. Your conscience is clear. You have the right to voice your concerns, but management reserves the right to hear them!
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Hide the Trash Please!
"Where are the dried prunes ma?" - I had left them in their dried pitted prunes cover in the refridgerator, and could no longer see it there. My mother insists it is right in front of my eyes. Dutiful daughter that I am, I open my eyes wider and look carefully. For the life of me, I cannot see it there! Back to mommie (Side note: I cannot imagine the day we would not go to Ma when we can't find things!) She swoops into the kitchen with an air of confidence, and takes one look -"See, there it is!"
I still can't see a Prunes container - am I going blind?! She waves in impatience and thrusts the Infant Formula Similac container in my arms. I open it to find Prunes in a grapes cover!
"PPLLEEAASSEE MA!! How am I expected to find this? "
"Do you want me to throw this container just because the formula is over?" - she asks with a look of incredulity on her face. I yield reluctantly. Slowly, my kitchen contains mustard seeds in Yogurt containers, dried fruit in Oatmeal containers and Olive oil in Gatorade bottles!!! Gone are the days when I had all uniform containers for all my groceries.
In fact, these days, I rush out with the trash bag diplomatically, lest she finds some stuff that I discreetly placed in the trash bag! Well, I can imagine that in their days, good containers were hard to come by, but if I were to preserve every piece, I would be standing outside for want of space in my home. Yogurt, milk, baby food, juices - the list is endless, and the recycle bin does overflow!!
Environmentally, we were better off with the milkman ringing our doorbell at 6 a.m. instead of placing 3 milk cans in the trash can every week!
I still can't see a Prunes container - am I going blind?! She waves in impatience and thrusts the Infant Formula Similac container in my arms. I open it to find Prunes in a grapes cover!
"PPLLEEAASSEE MA!! How am I expected to find this? "
"Do you want me to throw this container just because the formula is over?" - she asks with a look of incredulity on her face. I yield reluctantly. Slowly, my kitchen contains mustard seeds in Yogurt containers, dried fruit in Oatmeal containers and Olive oil in Gatorade bottles!!! Gone are the days when I had all uniform containers for all my groceries.
In fact, these days, I rush out with the trash bag diplomatically, lest she finds some stuff that I discreetly placed in the trash bag! Well, I can imagine that in their days, good containers were hard to come by, but if I were to preserve every piece, I would be standing outside for want of space in my home. Yogurt, milk, baby food, juices - the list is endless, and the recycle bin does overflow!!
Environmentally, we were better off with the milkman ringing our doorbell at 6 a.m. instead of placing 3 milk cans in the trash can every week!
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
Go Marathoners!!!
This time Lord Ganesha, the remover of obstacles, has Sriks marathon achievement to thank for 24 modak entrees. The pot bellied Indian God is my mother's favourite, and everytime she is concerned about something she has little control over - she feeds him tasty modaks! (How can this poor God ever reduce?!)
As the marathoner's wife, I had well-fed butterflies in my stomach. Citing the sole participant in the car, the entire pack of us tucked in liberally on the carbs! So far Sriks had managed to train without any major injuries, and I was desperately hoping that he would not injure himself at the marathon.
The plan was for Manu/Meera (these sweet folks shall henceforth be referred to as M&M) and self to go and drop Sriks at the start line, and then meet him at the 5th and 10th mile points before heading back to the hotel to pick the rest of the support team, comprising Kittens and my parents. Thanks to M's persistence, we spent the previous evening poring over maps, drawing up checklists and the like. Strategic plans are made to go awry. That night Kittens did not sleep a wink. Four hours and eight minutes after continuously singing "Old McDonald had a farm..." in the night, I felt like I had run a marathon, and I was in no position to accompany Sriks to the startline.
So M&M and my father braved the biting cold to wish him victory. The start was nothing like they had expected - men and women on the riper side of 70 mingled enthusiastically with teens and middle-aged. My father took it upon himself to encourage all the senior citizens, and was cheerleading them with gusto! He was screaming himself hoarse - "Go Sir", "Excellent Job Madam!" Since then, he has vowed to walk at least 2.6 miles regularly!!!
After the first few miles (which according to Sriks is a little difficult considering the body yearns for the warmer comforts of a bed!), he settled into a smooth pace! With M&M's encouragement and presence, he sailed through till the 10th mile. His half run timing was very good and showed he was keeping a good pace.
At the 20th mile, the whole gang was waiting with placards and our little one cheering - "Up Up Appa!". The air was vibrant with music, lots of people cheering the competitors on, and a band playing nearby. The road was done up like a wall, to symbolize the runner's wall (the approximate distance at which the body begins to run out of Glycogen, and the mind works against the runner).
We scoured the crowd waiting for Sriks. Running socks or no, every marathoner has to endure a rough patch: an unexpected blister had considerably slowed him down. We finally spotted Sriks - in spite of the blister his spirits seemed high, as we ran towards him! Keerthana was tremendously pleased to see him, and started clapping hands and saying "Up, up appa" once again.
The atmosphere was almost festive, and we were thrilled to see the aged and the young compete in a true spirit of sportsmanship. As we cheered people on, I could not help admiring the sportsman behind each of these people. What made them tick? Where did they get the motivation and drive to accomplish so great a feat? I will never know - all I know is that my respect for these tenacious people increased exponentially. Ardous hours of training, sore muscles, bad weather, and yet they smiled and acknowledged our encouragement. Go Marathoners!!!
The 24th mile was yet another rendezvous, and by now several runners recognized us, as we
waited for Sriks. The mascot for the Senior citizen i.e my father, and the youngest cheerleader present, must have made their marks! Now, a visibly tired Sriks came prodding on. He said he finally knew what it was to experience the runner's wall. As a person watching him train for this feat, I have never seen him low during or after runs. Though I encouraged him that he was almost there - the worry that his spirits were dipping crept into my mind. (I know a problem cannot be solved by worrying, but what else can one do? ) As a spectator, I could make a half-baked attempt at explaining the runners wall phenomenon, but I shall leave that to people who have actually experienced this(Http://srikris.blogspot.com)
We promised to see him at the finish line, and took leave. M&M did a remarkable job of tirelessly getting us from Spot A to Spot B, in spite of all the road blocks and one-way streets. Words cannot quite quantify how much their presence and help meant - so, I shall not even try! We managed to park around half a mile away, and dashed just in time to catch our man sprinting toward the finish line.
The head held high, firm, long strides and the sudden burst of speed as he neared the finish line echoed his achievement to the world. The man who had shied away from any distance more than a mile less than 3 months ago, had just finished a 26 miler, and proved that the mind is truly the greatest power in the world. With the right attitude, nothing seems like an unachievable altitude!
As we were admiring his medal - the air crackled with the news of an 83 year old woman, making it to the Guiness book of World Records, by completing the marathon on 5 hours and 10 minutes! And that, is the beauty of the human spirit. Just when you think, it can't be done - somebody does it!!!
As the marathoner's wife, I had well-fed butterflies in my stomach. Citing the sole participant in the car, the entire pack of us tucked in liberally on the carbs! So far Sriks had managed to train without any major injuries, and I was desperately hoping that he would not injure himself at the marathon.
The plan was for Manu/Meera (these sweet folks shall henceforth be referred to as M&M) and self to go and drop Sriks at the start line, and then meet him at the 5th and 10th mile points before heading back to the hotel to pick the rest of the support team, comprising Kittens and my parents. Thanks to M's persistence, we spent the previous evening poring over maps, drawing up checklists and the like. Strategic plans are made to go awry. That night Kittens did not sleep a wink. Four hours and eight minutes after continuously singing "Old McDonald had a farm..." in the night, I felt like I had run a marathon, and I was in no position to accompany Sriks to the startline.
So M&M and my father braved the biting cold to wish him victory. The start was nothing like they had expected - men and women on the riper side of 70 mingled enthusiastically with teens and middle-aged. My father took it upon himself to encourage all the senior citizens, and was cheerleading them with gusto! He was screaming himself hoarse - "Go Sir", "Excellent Job Madam!" Since then, he has vowed to walk at least 2.6 miles regularly!!!After the first few miles (which according to Sriks is a little difficult considering the body yearns for the warmer comforts of a bed!), he settled into a smooth pace! With M&M's encouragement and presence, he sailed through till the 10th mile. His half run timing was very good and showed he was keeping a good pace.
At the 20th mile, the whole gang was waiting with placards and our little one cheering - "Up Up Appa!". The air was vibrant with music, lots of people cheering the competitors on, and a band playing nearby. The road was done up like a wall, to symbolize the runner's wall (the approximate distance at which the body begins to run out of Glycogen, and the mind works against the runner).
We scoured the crowd waiting for Sriks. Running socks or no, every marathoner has to endure a rough patch: an unexpected blister had considerably slowed him down. We finally spotted Sriks - in spite of the blister his spirits seemed high, as we ran towards him! Keerthana was tremendously pleased to see him, and started clapping hands and saying "Up, up appa" once again.The atmosphere was almost festive, and we were thrilled to see the aged and the young compete in a true spirit of sportsmanship. As we cheered people on, I could not help admiring the sportsman behind each of these people. What made them tick? Where did they get the motivation and drive to accomplish so great a feat? I will never know - all I know is that my respect for these tenacious people increased exponentially. Ardous hours of training, sore muscles, bad weather, and yet they smiled and acknowledged our encouragement. Go Marathoners!!!
The 24th mile was yet another rendezvous, and by now several runners recognized us, as we
waited for Sriks. The mascot for the Senior citizen i.e my father, and the youngest cheerleader present, must have made their marks! Now, a visibly tired Sriks came prodding on. He said he finally knew what it was to experience the runner's wall. As a person watching him train for this feat, I have never seen him low during or after runs. Though I encouraged him that he was almost there - the worry that his spirits were dipping crept into my mind. (I know a problem cannot be solved by worrying, but what else can one do? ) As a spectator, I could make a half-baked attempt at explaining the runners wall phenomenon, but I shall leave that to people who have actually experienced this(Http://srikris.blogspot.com)We promised to see him at the finish line, and took leave. M&M did a remarkable job of tirelessly getting us from Spot A to Spot B, in spite of all the road blocks and one-way streets. Words cannot quite quantify how much their presence and help meant - so, I shall not even try! We managed to park around half a mile away, and dashed just in time to catch our man sprinting toward the finish line.
The head held high, firm, long strides and the sudden burst of speed as he neared the finish line echoed his achievement to the world. The man who had shied away from any distance more than a mile less than 3 months ago, had just finished a 26 miler, and proved that the mind is truly the greatest power in the world. With the right attitude, nothing seems like an unachievable altitude!
As we were admiring his medal - the air crackled with the news of an 83 year old woman, making it to the Guiness book of World Records, by completing the marathon on 5 hours and 10 minutes! And that, is the beauty of the human spirit. Just when you think, it can't be done - somebody does it!!!
Thursday, December 01, 2005
The Countdown begins........
Months of preparation are finally coming close to fruition - the marathoner in our home, is gearing up to a run coming Sunday.
Meanwhile, the marathoner's wife is busy preparing for the trip. A formidable list is already in place - months of procurement for the marathon are finally being put to use.
1) Running socks and running shoes!
2) The foot pod, the heart rate monitor and the watch to go with it
3) The Camel Pak
4) The ubiquitous energy gel packets that are strewn all over my house, thanks to my baby's interest in these packets - there are orange packets, brown packets and orange/brown packets!
5) The large GU20 box (Sriks you may do well to know that my mother has had her eye on that container to store her pickles. So December 5th evening, it may no longer contain what you think!)
6) The Gatorade bottles enough for a team of marathoners!
The Non-Marathoner's Guide to a Marathon (For last minute revision before the exam - *wink wink*)
7) Running Shorts and running t-shirt (Somebody please enlighten me why these running attires are always in a shiny, bright hue)
8) Sleeveless Jacket (The D-Day promises to be a cold morning)
9) Medical supplies - pain relievers, balms and the like
10) Walking shoes and Walking socks (Can one walk in Running shoes??)
One thing is for certain - my dear marathoner husband is going to miss all the food pampering that has been happening lately thanks to the Marathon. The specially prepared Potato fries and the extra dollop of lentils over steaming rice with ghee!! Enjoy on dear fellow!
Waiting to see you cruise through the marathon,
The Marathoner's Family
Monday, November 28, 2005
To Eat or Not to Eat?
A delicious box of cashew laddus lies innocently on the dining table. My heart wants to eat, but my brain calculates the calories. There is salad with lots of broccoli nearby, and it is definitely delicious, so I settle for that saying the sweet is reserved for after the meal.
To further my chagrin, my parents proclaim how in the old days, ghee was served in "dhonnai" cups, and nobody was any the wiser! Of course, these ghee drinking tummies have provided us with hours of glee! Under my wise tutelage, my cousins and brother all aged between 9 and 2, would eye-ball the said tummies from the side, and swing from the loft above for an aerial survey. The owners of the tummies were too sleepy to take notice - how couldn't they be after wolfing down a meal consisting of vada^, payasam, 8 different kinds of vegetables, pacchidi, platefuls of rice, kesari, dhals, lentils, rasam, sambhar and curd?
Total calorie intake of 1 meal approximately = (Total calories required per day) * 3!
The tummy game was played as follows. Once the surveys were completed, each member would provide a "guess-timate" of the size.
Unit of Measurement used: palm lengths
So, I could say 6 palm lengths, and quietly measure the tummy with my palm to see how far off the mark I was! Occasionally, the tummies would begin to turn midway through the measurement process (the owner trying to shift positions during the nap!) Then, we had to change strategy slightly and measure from the base of the tummy to the belly button and multiply the result by 2.
Thank god, these meals were not a regular affair! I cannot imagine the effect it would have had on people's health!
The other day, while shopping at Costco, we lingered longer than necessary at the dessert section. There were 4 different flavors of icecreams packaged together (competitively priced), a large box of Tiramusu (also competitively priced) and a box of sugary mini puffs (also competitively priced) to choose from. My brain unwillingly looked at the nutrional content on those containers and my hand put them back!
My heart stopped at a smaller store on the way back to obtain a smaller pack of icecream.
To use the most hackneyed expression of all time - ignorance really is bliss. Maybe, we too would have been wolfing down cartons of delicacies, had we not read about obesity, calories and cholesterol levels. And maybe, teams of brats led by nephews and neices would have been measuring our tummies!!!
^ Indian delicacies made with no regard to calorific content, but pays the best compliments to the tongue!
To further my chagrin, my parents proclaim how in the old days, ghee was served in "dhonnai" cups, and nobody was any the wiser! Of course, these ghee drinking tummies have provided us with hours of glee! Under my wise tutelage, my cousins and brother all aged between 9 and 2, would eye-ball the said tummies from the side, and swing from the loft above for an aerial survey. The owners of the tummies were too sleepy to take notice - how couldn't they be after wolfing down a meal consisting of vada^, payasam, 8 different kinds of vegetables, pacchidi, platefuls of rice, kesari, dhals, lentils, rasam, sambhar and curd?
Total calorie intake of 1 meal approximately = (Total calories required per day) * 3!
The tummy game was played as follows. Once the surveys were completed, each member would provide a "guess-timate" of the size.
Unit of Measurement used: palm lengths
So, I could say 6 palm lengths, and quietly measure the tummy with my palm to see how far off the mark I was! Occasionally, the tummies would begin to turn midway through the measurement process (the owner trying to shift positions during the nap!) Then, we had to change strategy slightly and measure from the base of the tummy to the belly button and multiply the result by 2.
Thank god, these meals were not a regular affair! I cannot imagine the effect it would have had on people's health!
The other day, while shopping at Costco, we lingered longer than necessary at the dessert section. There were 4 different flavors of icecreams packaged together (competitively priced), a large box of Tiramusu (also competitively priced) and a box of sugary mini puffs (also competitively priced) to choose from. My brain unwillingly looked at the nutrional content on those containers and my hand put them back!
My heart stopped at a smaller store on the way back to obtain a smaller pack of icecream.
To use the most hackneyed expression of all time - ignorance really is bliss. Maybe, we too would have been wolfing down cartons of delicacies, had we not read about obesity, calories and cholesterol levels. And maybe, teams of brats led by nephews and neices would have been measuring our tummies!!!
^ Indian delicacies made with no regard to calorific content, but pays the best compliments to the tongue!
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
Itch Itch..Brain Itch!
Old Mac Donald had a farm - eiya eiya yo!
A "Moo Moo" here and a "Moo Moo" there
Old Mac Donald had a farm - eiya eiya yo!
Hey.....wait a minute, I have been singing this song incessantly in my mind for the past 2 days. I have to push this song out of my mind. So, I embark loudly on a slower melody
"Govardhana Giridhara Govinda, Gokula ...."
The minute I stop, the itching continues.
"Old Mac Donald had a farm - eiya eiya yo!"
Maybe, I should try reading a book. Concentrate dear mind, I prod myself - I am reading, but my brain is going "Old Mac Donald had a farm - eiya eiya yo!" in the background!
Drastic measures have to be taken now. I get up, and embark on a cleaning spree. After all, if you are busy doing something, Old MacDonald can't get you - Ha!
Clean clean scrub scrub
"Old Mac Donald had a farm - eiya eiya yo!"
More vigorously - CLEAN CLEAN SCRUB SCRUB
"Old Mac Donald had a farm - eiya eiya yo!"
The house is sparkling now, and Old MacDonald still has his farm!
A nap maybe? I wake up singing "Old Mac Donald had a farm - eiya eiya yo!"
If you can't beat them, plead with them. So, I plead with my brain - "Oh please - please stop singing this damn song!"
"Old Mac Donald had a farm - eiya eiya yo!" it taunts me further.
I try to uproot this menace at the source. I had picked it up while watching a Baby Einstein DVD, singing along with my baby. Maybe, I could try another DVD - that should stop it!
YES!!!! It worked - I am no longer bothered about Mac Donald and his silly farm. I am now thinking about the sea turtle enjoying the swim in the sea.
"Ohh yeah - I am having fun swimming in the deep blue sea"
Maybe, it will be easier to stop this one from getting to me.........
"Ohh yeah - I am having fun swimming in the deep blue sea"
A "Moo Moo" here and a "Moo Moo" there
Old Mac Donald had a farm - eiya eiya yo!
Hey.....wait a minute, I have been singing this song incessantly in my mind for the past 2 days. I have to push this song out of my mind. So, I embark loudly on a slower melody
"Govardhana Giridhara Govinda, Gokula ...."
The minute I stop, the itching continues.
"Old Mac Donald had a farm - eiya eiya yo!"
Maybe, I should try reading a book. Concentrate dear mind, I prod myself - I am reading, but my brain is going "Old Mac Donald had a farm - eiya eiya yo!" in the background!
Drastic measures have to be taken now. I get up, and embark on a cleaning spree. After all, if you are busy doing something, Old MacDonald can't get you - Ha!
Clean clean scrub scrub
"Old Mac Donald had a farm - eiya eiya yo!"
More vigorously - CLEAN CLEAN SCRUB SCRUB
"Old Mac Donald had a farm - eiya eiya yo!"
The house is sparkling now, and Old MacDonald still has his farm!
A nap maybe? I wake up singing "Old Mac Donald had a farm - eiya eiya yo!"
If you can't beat them, plead with them. So, I plead with my brain - "Oh please - please stop singing this damn song!"
"Old Mac Donald had a farm - eiya eiya yo!" it taunts me further.
I try to uproot this menace at the source. I had picked it up while watching a Baby Einstein DVD, singing along with my baby. Maybe, I could try another DVD - that should stop it!
YES!!!! It worked - I am no longer bothered about Mac Donald and his silly farm. I am now thinking about the sea turtle enjoying the swim in the sea.
"Ohh yeah - I am having fun swimming in the deep blue sea"
Maybe, it will be easier to stop this one from getting to me.........
"Ohh yeah - I am having fun swimming in the deep blue sea"
Friday, November 18, 2005
The Namaskaram Account
As children, my brother and I maintained a burgeoning account titled "Namaskaram Account".
There were diaries galore and every year, I would religiously carry over the latest cash flow statement over to the next year. My brother and I were joint account holders, and our names were mentioned prominently on the page.
Funds for this account were procured from the following avenues:
(a) Money obtained as blessings
The process involves falling at the feet of uncles and aunts who would gush at what a lovely thing it is to do in today's world, and dole out the cash. We would mill around for the right opportunity, and "Thud!" (another inflow into the account) Once done, I would signal my brother to do the same and dutifully stand around to collect my brother's share as well.
(b) Secratarial work for my father
My father invested in shares. He had the luxury of having a career with loads of time to spare. He even had the time to apply for new equities. The chances of getting an allotment for heavily over-subscribed shares were a little less than winning the state lottery. He had the able assistance of an able secretary in me. Every share application filed would fetch me Rs 10, while every allotment would fetch me Rs. 20. To improve cash flow, I would innocently place every application near God, and seek his blessings before posting it!
(c) Money won as Prizes
Contribution from this source was a little late in the game, when I started winning scholarships and the like, but it was money all the same.
I also remember gallantly offering money from our account, if something was denied us by virtue of its cost. Thank God there was no overdraft facility. I must have asked for goods worth 10 times the amount in the "account" over the years!
For years, it provided my brother and I with work to do, and my father got what he needed - the devils were kept busy filing out applications!
I wonder what happened to that "account". Maybe my father used it up for my wedding!!
PS: I must admire my father for the innovative method of getting work done from me!
There were diaries galore and every year, I would religiously carry over the latest cash flow statement over to the next year. My brother and I were joint account holders, and our names were mentioned prominently on the page.
Funds for this account were procured from the following avenues:
(a) Money obtained as blessings
The process involves falling at the feet of uncles and aunts who would gush at what a lovely thing it is to do in today's world, and dole out the cash. We would mill around for the right opportunity, and "Thud!" (another inflow into the account) Once done, I would signal my brother to do the same and dutifully stand around to collect my brother's share as well.
(b) Secratarial work for my father
My father invested in shares. He had the luxury of having a career with loads of time to spare. He even had the time to apply for new equities. The chances of getting an allotment for heavily over-subscribed shares were a little less than winning the state lottery. He had the able assistance of an able secretary in me. Every share application filed would fetch me Rs 10, while every allotment would fetch me Rs. 20. To improve cash flow, I would innocently place every application near God, and seek his blessings before posting it!
(c) Money won as Prizes
Contribution from this source was a little late in the game, when I started winning scholarships and the like, but it was money all the same.
I also remember gallantly offering money from our account, if something was denied us by virtue of its cost. Thank God there was no overdraft facility. I must have asked for goods worth 10 times the amount in the "account" over the years!
For years, it provided my brother and I with work to do, and my father got what he needed - the devils were kept busy filing out applications!
I wonder what happened to that "account". Maybe my father used it up for my wedding!!
PS: I must admire my father for the innovative method of getting work done from me!
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
Some things never change
In the pre-digital era, the more useless pictures in our album at home were usually attributed to me. There you see my then kid brother measuring 4ft 3inches looking a grand 6 ft 4 inches, and somewhere else a touch of scenery gone all awry when taken from the moving train. From then on, I have always admired good photographers. Although, their talk of focal length, camera exposure and lens speed goes above my head, I love looking at the end result - a good picture!
I still remember the camera we had. It was a Yashica, and my father had paid a family friend to buy it for us from the Gulf. Photographs were reserved for special occasions, and the poses were standard too. The kids would be in front of our parents and there would be as many people as possible in every photograph (especially the earlier ones!) So, come any major festival, and you would find my sister and I dressed in clothes tailored from the same material and my brother, posing in front of my parents. (One of these days, I shall blog the economics behind the clothing in the same material, but for now - yes, we would be wearing the same shiny pink, or the same spotted blue!)
In all photos my father would be standing stark erect, and posing with a serious face. I have tried time and again to get him to smile in a photograph. He would smile, even grin or laugh before the flash comes on. But FLASH!!! Boom - there comes his serious face once again!
Yesterday, I was trying to get my father to pose for a photograph, and guess what? My father is standing erect with a serious face!!! The digital era may have swooped in with revolutionary changes, but I am glad some things never change.
I still remember the camera we had. It was a Yashica, and my father had paid a family friend to buy it for us from the Gulf. Photographs were reserved for special occasions, and the poses were standard too. The kids would be in front of our parents and there would be as many people as possible in every photograph (especially the earlier ones!) So, come any major festival, and you would find my sister and I dressed in clothes tailored from the same material and my brother, posing in front of my parents. (One of these days, I shall blog the economics behind the clothing in the same material, but for now - yes, we would be wearing the same shiny pink, or the same spotted blue!)
In all photos my father would be standing stark erect, and posing with a serious face. I have tried time and again to get him to smile in a photograph. He would smile, even grin or laugh before the flash comes on. But FLASH!!! Boom - there comes his serious face once again!
Yesterday, I was trying to get my father to pose for a photograph, and guess what? My father is standing erect with a serious face!!! The digital era may have swooped in with revolutionary changes, but I am glad some things never change.
Monday, November 07, 2005
Words don't speak
When I reminisce about my School and College days, one thing I remember vividly was the "Parting diary culture".
There were pink diaries, blue diaries, heart-shaped diaries, and of course those tiresome diaries with lots of questions:
Name:
Favorite Actor: **I am pretty sure my favorite actor then is not my favorite actor now**
Favourite Director:
Favorite Colour: ** What would one do with this piece of info?!**
Birth Date:
Zodiac: ** Derive from above - DUHHH! **
Interests:
These diaries are handed out with gay abandon to pen your "good-byes" in. People one shared a smile with, would thrust a diary into your hand. For most diaries, I had a standard quote on life, a word of praise and a reminder to stay in touch.
I chose not to write in my closest friends diary, because I had too many things to share, too many things to hold onto. The sentimental side of my brain cried that "Keep in touch!" meant people would not keep in touch, and hence the request to "Keep in touch"!
On one of my recent cleaning sprees, I chanced upon my own college diary. My college diary just contained the addresses and phone numbers of all my friends, with small notes to "Keep in Touch" Ironically, the people I am still in touch with, are the ones who had not asked me to keep in touch with them!
I thumbed through the diary, and I chanced upon one tattered piece of paper, that I had taped to the very last page. I still remember a close friend of mine thrusting this note in my hand as my train was chugging away from Coimbatore station. I was leaving my friends and family to take up my first job in Bangalore. I was too pre-occupied to notice the letter. I was scouring the station to see where another one of my closest friends, mentor and senior was. She had promised to come and see me off, and I was upset that she had not come. As the train chugged on, and I could no longer see my friends, I crawled my way back to my seat, still upset that she had not come. I opened the letter to see the shortest note of all time. The essence of the communique was:
I am really bad with words Saumya,so I shall try my best... Please don't be upset with me for not coming to the station to see you off. But, I cannot bear to say "Bye" to you.
Love and prayers for your continued success,
---------
And that, my friend, is powerful communication!
There were pink diaries, blue diaries, heart-shaped diaries, and of course those tiresome diaries with lots of questions:
Name:
Favorite Actor: **I am pretty sure my favorite actor then is not my favorite actor now**
Favourite Director:
Favorite Colour: ** What would one do with this piece of info?!**
Birth Date:
Zodiac: ** Derive from above - DUHHH! **
Interests:
These diaries are handed out with gay abandon to pen your "good-byes" in. People one shared a smile with, would thrust a diary into your hand. For most diaries, I had a standard quote on life, a word of praise and a reminder to stay in touch.
I chose not to write in my closest friends diary, because I had too many things to share, too many things to hold onto. The sentimental side of my brain cried that "Keep in touch!" meant people would not keep in touch, and hence the request to "Keep in touch"!
On one of my recent cleaning sprees, I chanced upon my own college diary. My college diary just contained the addresses and phone numbers of all my friends, with small notes to "Keep in Touch" Ironically, the people I am still in touch with, are the ones who had not asked me to keep in touch with them!
I thumbed through the diary, and I chanced upon one tattered piece of paper, that I had taped to the very last page. I still remember a close friend of mine thrusting this note in my hand as my train was chugging away from Coimbatore station. I was leaving my friends and family to take up my first job in Bangalore. I was too pre-occupied to notice the letter. I was scouring the station to see where another one of my closest friends, mentor and senior was. She had promised to come and see me off, and I was upset that she had not come. As the train chugged on, and I could no longer see my friends, I crawled my way back to my seat, still upset that she had not come. I opened the letter to see the shortest note of all time. The essence of the communique was:
I am really bad with words Saumya,so I shall try my best... Please don't be upset with me for not coming to the station to see you off. But, I cannot bear to say "Bye" to you.
Love and prayers for your continued success,
---------
And that, my friend, is powerful communication!
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
T-r-i-n-g T-r-i-n-g
I could tell the smugglers that their ploy was no good. Their most cherished possessions were in our hands. My spouse and I are running against time to hand in the possessions to the authorities. We can feel the chase getting hotter, and in a desperate attempt to save our lives - we run to my brother's help. He works in Google(^) The company requires all employees to stay in the office premises - each employee is given a room, and all meals are taken care of by the company. All employees are expected to report for Dinner at 8 p.m. in the dinner hall (I hope Larry Page and Sergey Brin aren't listening!)
** This is where I should include the link to the page on Google's work culture, but I shall desist **
My brother's eyes grow wide in amazement when I show him the priceless statuettes we are trying to save! (*) We decide to spend the night there.
The next morning, hubby boy and self are contemplating other avenues of escape, when we spot a trucking area in China. The terrain is beautiful - a serene river flowing a few metres below, and a mountainous region with snow-capped peaks on all sides. There is a gargantuan person fishing in the river below.The weird fisher is shooting at the fish, while standing in knee deep water. Irritated with the fact that the weirdo is shooting at the fish, my husband tries to stop him by banging him on his head. I watch on shell-shocked as the huge guy gnarls and picks my husband far above his head!
** I can hear my husband say: "Hey, I may be dumb, but I'm not THAT dumb!" **
Startled I start screaming and rush to his rescue........
TRRRIIIIIIIINGGGGGG! TRRRRIIIIIIINNNNNGGG!
Oh dear alarm clock! How much I loved your sound this morning?!
Footnote (*) : I can see why his eyes widen - the statuettes are laughing buddha statues that one gets for a dollar in China Town!
Footnote (^): No, my brother does not work at Google! And Google is supposedly one of the best employers in the world.
** This is where I should include the link to the page on Google's work culture, but I shall desist **
My brother's eyes grow wide in amazement when I show him the priceless statuettes we are trying to save! (*) We decide to spend the night there.
The next morning, hubby boy and self are contemplating other avenues of escape, when we spot a trucking area in China. The terrain is beautiful - a serene river flowing a few metres below, and a mountainous region with snow-capped peaks on all sides. There is a gargantuan person fishing in the river below.The weird fisher is shooting at the fish, while standing in knee deep water. Irritated with the fact that the weirdo is shooting at the fish, my husband tries to stop him by banging him on his head. I watch on shell-shocked as the huge guy gnarls and picks my husband far above his head!
** I can hear my husband say: "Hey, I may be dumb, but I'm not THAT dumb!" **
Startled I start screaming and rush to his rescue........
TRRRIIIIIIIINGGGGGG! TRRRRIIIIIIINNNNNGGG!
Oh dear alarm clock! How much I loved your sound this morning?!
Footnote (*) : I can see why his eyes widen - the statuettes are laughing buddha statues that one gets for a dollar in China Town!
Footnote (^): No, my brother does not work at Google! And Google is supposedly one of the best employers in the world.
Tuesday, November 01, 2005
Not so funny!
Yesterday was Halloween. I usually wait for kids dressed up to come and knock on my door, while I act surprised. Especially, the younger ones - the chicks, the tigers with squeaky voices, the batman with a timid demeanour, the superman hiding behind his mommy, the dainty princesses hanging onto their tiaras, while clutching their candy bucket tightly - Oh, I love the innocence on these children's faces.
Yesterday started out on a different note. The first bunch to knock on my doors, were dressed too eerily for anybody's good, and were not exactly top performers in the manners department. The language they used had no right to be uttered by boys their age, and merely looking at them sent shivers down my spine. I gave them candies and hushed them away. But, I could not help wonder at the point of festivities, if such is the case. I recall a similar festival in India, Holi. This festival has people smearing each others faces with colour powder and generally is a lot of fun. Recently, however, the convenience of masking one's face with colour has spawned rowdy elements to take advantage, and guess what? Not so funny anymore!
With increasing spending power, I wonder whether we are falling prey to vicious marketing ploys and giving people ideas to sharpen their darker side.
I understand the significance of Halloween, and how it all started to ward off the evil spirits in the harsh winter months. But if the warders became the evil spirits, who do we ward off?!
Yesterday started out on a different note. The first bunch to knock on my doors, were dressed too eerily for anybody's good, and were not exactly top performers in the manners department. The language they used had no right to be uttered by boys their age, and merely looking at them sent shivers down my spine. I gave them candies and hushed them away. But, I could not help wonder at the point of festivities, if such is the case. I recall a similar festival in India, Holi. This festival has people smearing each others faces with colour powder and generally is a lot of fun. Recently, however, the convenience of masking one's face with colour has spawned rowdy elements to take advantage, and guess what? Not so funny anymore!
With increasing spending power, I wonder whether we are falling prey to vicious marketing ploys and giving people ideas to sharpen their darker side.
I understand the significance of Halloween, and how it all started to ward off the evil spirits in the harsh winter months. But if the warders became the evil spirits, who do we ward off?!
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