forgiving

Maybe that's what it's all about

Giving in for some one you love...

teach me

What would I not give to have a child's heart

That carries not the morning's slight into the night

What would I not give to have the child's trust

That allow it to jump into our hands on our call

Without a moment's hesitation of a fall

Knowing yet that in a few years the strength of youth will be a bygone memory

And memories will be all that I might treasure

Is it vanity that one should.try to impart the best of themselves to the child

Nothing can be taught unless we become the learners from whom we seek to teach.

In the child lies the teacher, though they don't even try.

there is only one problem

Photo me

I magiced it

My life is sunshined because of my daughter

When you throw grammar out,

You get emotions

When you throw words out

You feel the beauty

Language is such a problem...

grade 1

When 10 x 10 = 100 with an exclamation  mark!!!

the allure of cause and effect

To think

To do

To expect a result for contemplated action

Why can't we simply relish the blossoming of a flower or the vast sky or the perfect drop of water or the biting pangs of hunger? 

an unequal equation

A prayer that she should die before he did...

A belief that all those who died before their venerable spouses did were blessed and would bless all the woman for a similar fate. 

She wondered what the menfolk would do as an equivalent. 

Home

It was a dead house. It had not.heard the lusty cry of a hungry infant or a girlish giggle or an excited discovery of an insect for nearly four decades. It's inmates had moved - due to work, by way of marriage or simply died. And the house died a slow death - cobwebbed musty inevitable death that comes with old age, no new paint, no occassion to paint, no reason to celebrate - just old age pain of cracking pipes, peeling paint and Insect and reptiles proliferating where bovines had stood - ready to be milked by the numerous servants. The tiles on the toilet had started to come apart. The pathway was overgrown with weeds. Peepal and banyan tree saplings had started to sprout in the crevices claiming their rightful earth back. Arthritic windows with catracted stained glass panes and creaking doors with long forgotten locks and a bunch of menacing looking keys lay rusting in a key box waiting for someone to clean them up and use them. 

The memories lay in forgotten trunk boxes stacked in forgotten rooms with forgotten keys- Boxes of ancient initialled silver and even more ancient aluminum wares gifted across generations when the women married into the family. Boxes of documents and boxes of photographs; boxes of horoscopes and boxes of jewellery, boxes of craft work and boxes of gift boxes which had accumulated in the long ago time when happy occasions were celebrated in the house itself. 

cheers!

There is a special place,

Where you are given all the tear drops 

That you caused to be shed

To quench your thirst. 

As each drop goes down your throat,

You drown in the emotion contained in it. 

Happy drinking.

வேண்டுதல்

கொடுக்கும் கை வேண்டும்

நான் என்ற அகந்தை இலா மனம் வேண்டும்

பிறப்பிலும் இறப்பிலும் சம நிலை வேண்டும்

இருந்த போதும், போதும் என்ற எண்ணம் வேண்டும்

கடையில், இவை வேண்டும் என்ற வெண்டல் இலா நிலை வேண்டும். 

true caller

They were back after the break. She called for the bottled water. It had been a couple of months. She was surprised when he answered with her name, when she gave the delivery address. He said he could never forget her name. Same as his sister's. 

a disconnect

He yelled. She got disconnected. 

She spoke out. They got disconnected.

She sought help. They disconnected. 

movies list

Funny - how we relate every thing to our parents. My father loved movies - English, hindi, tamil, French and sometimes even Italian and japanese movies, though he couldn't understand a word of it. I never for a moment thought that he had no clue what was actually going on in the movie, because he would narrate he entire story based on his own storyline that went off in his head! 

He used to write down lists of his favorite movies and songs and books, so that we could see it sometime. If any of these oldien goldies came.on the tv / got screened anywhere, he would make it a point to take us and show it. We saw born free in woodlands on a Sunday afternoon. I think there were only the four of us in the entire upper storey! 

So, during the quarantine, I thought of introducing the kids to movies. And list them as suitable for their age, when I am at it.

Benjy - very good for 5 year old kids. They loved it. 

Sound of music - a bit difficult to explain why the police are bad.

Dunston checks in- they loved it, though it added on to my son's monkey behaviour a bit. 

Chitti chitti bang bang - awesome classic. 

Hatari - they really liked the animals, though it has a lot of smoking in it. 

How to train your dragon - 1 & 2 - good movies

Jumanji - a bit scary for 5 year olds, but doable. 

Moana - my daughter started to cry and couldn't see it through, as she didn't like the dad's disapproval in the movie. 

And we started buying.news papers again...

To make kites and pin wheels

And to sketch and make collages

To make papier mache

To pack fruits and legumes

To wipe up little messes

To lay on the floor before a haircut

To use as a stencil for painting sunsets

on a viral night

He worked on the cloud

She gazed at the stars

Romance set in

no longer my baby

As the days pass,

The pants grow shorter

They no longer want to be fed or bathed

They have their own friends and lives

They talk about things that i am not a part of

And i suddenly miss my babies. 

scary

Am so happy to have a John Smith kind of a name. You could Google, search on Facebook, search on Twitter, linked in and in n number of sites and find that there are 100s of "me"s around. And if you ever knew me, well - you have known me forever. 

middle ages

When a normal week means

No rushing to the hospital

No emergency calls from the school

And all household help is present.

The small pleasures of normalcy...

Mother

Take me gently - like a delicate flower
Take me even as the breeze lifts the creeper
Take me with no pain
Take me, so that I shall never again
Wonder if I am going or coming back

Take me to my mother
To my father and
to all those I hold dear
Take me with no fear

Take me so that I may
See the light at the end of my day
Take me,
Take me far away

Take me with a smile on my lips
And fond memories
Take me
Take me away...

Mother of a son

I never thought it would be something so special. The pride of seeing your son discover something and sharing his excitement with such awestruck, wondrous eyes. He makes me wonder all the time who is teaching whom, what.

Even as i try teaching him to eat with a sense of decorum and a sense of time, he is teaching me patience.  When I am teaching him about insects and gardening, he teaches me excitement at seeing caterpillars curl up and snails shrinking into their shells. He teaches me happiness when he catches a ball, letting go and yelling ooooohhhh when he wants to do a together "wolf maadiri kathuhu"  going on the scooter, sensitivity - when he becomes silent on perceived injustices and I have to explain my actions to him.

My child - my teacher. My son. My wonder. My very own.

Letting go

After 30 years, she finally decided to let go of the handles and felt herself fly on the cycle☺️. Life still had a few unanticipated smiles, after all.

Finality

When death is no longer sacred, or secretive.
When it's details are made into a formula
And the act itself reversible.
Like a chemical reaction...

Weariness

If death could recur

The roads were a pleasure to drive.

When a shoulder is missing

If I cry out to you, tell me that you will come back in his dreams and let him know you are there forever for me.

Signs of life

Clothes hanging out from balconies...

Not funny, J.

Mister - it is not funny to be across the globe and change your phone, social handle, address and become incommunicado out of the blue. There are people who think and worry about you. kindly call on seeing.

Madurai

The first city that i visited as a professional with my father. We visited the meenakshi temple in the evening. He had said that we would see the temple elephant, but were told that it had gone out just then. A bit disappointed, we saw the goddess and the lord, admired the 1000 pillar mandapam and then prayed at the kalyanasundaresar sannidhi for an early and happy marriage for my then 23 year old self. As we were going out, we saw the golden chariot being drawn. And then, we saw the baby elephant.

I remember my mother chatting on yahoo chat, saying that she had a terrific experience, with my father being completely unreachable for 2 days in madurai.

I remember staying at college house and visiting tafe with my father after returning from the US, thinking what a whole lot of tractors!!!

I remember visiting for Raj's wedding, when my mom had a really bad back ache for the first time.

Madurai - very fondly remembered.

Chindu chundakkai

I remember being put to sleep on my father's shoulders - he used to walk around the garden singing abcd... After my brother and i grew up a bit, he used to tell us stories and put us to sleep. Or rather, he used to fall asleep telling stories!! We would try waking him up or prodding him to tell us the story correctly. He used to reply that the protagonist of the story had gone off to sleep or was busy in a meeting or had taken the train and it could be continued only the next night. The stories would evolve every day based on what was happening in the city, in house, office, with his friends etc. We could also actively contribute and turn the story which ever way we wanted. Our favorite story was that of the chundakkai, a tiny bitter berry, which was always taking off from his mother plant and running away to explore the world.  In his honor, i present Chindu the chundakkai story, as it is evolving with my brats. I am just writing out the rhymes, leaving out the tamil story portion. Will try to get it out in a bit.

ஒரு ஊரில், ஒரு farmer தாத்தா இருந்தாராம். Daily, அவர், .தன் வயலில் வளௌந்த காய்கரிகளை பறித்து, தனது கூடையில் எடுத்துக் கொண்டு சந்தைக்கு

To the market, to the market, to the market off we go!
In a basket, in a basket, in a basket off we go!

Here comes a red car
The market is so far
Will you please take us along??
We will sing you a beautiful song

Carrots, beans and peas
Baked in cottage cheese
Yummy yummy yum
Thank you, my dear mum

Oh my, oh dear
You came without telling your mum?!!
She will fret and fear
search far and near
Wont rest till she knows you are safe and here.
What have you done, you naughty baby bum!!?

Baby answers...

What will you have for dinner?
I will eat light!

And i discover an innocent answer can lift me out of darkness!!

And they stopped buying news paper.

The note book lay forgotten amidst the numerous momentos and trinkets collected over the years. The metaphors rose and fell as the pages lazily turned under the breeze.

The rustle, more than the movement caught her attention. She snatched the book out of his reach, just as he was about to get it. It was snacks time!!

Aging

The first signs always show on the hands.

The butterfly on her breast.

The scar was there for all to see. The dark red lines etched deep over her skin. Emblazoned just above her blouse. Left anyone who visited her wondering how deep it went and how such a frail body had withstood so much.

No one would have guessed the tattoo to hold so much pain inside.

Abuse is never just physical.

Two is just right!;

What two little people have done to my life...

Taught me patience and loads of love

Laughter like no other, and bruises that are cured with kisses

To share and wake up thinking of one another, just so they could fight and squabble as soon as they are up

Wonder at ants and lady bugs and run around till the world goes round

Nursery rhymes on you tube and mysterious muscles and aches while making them eat

That pee and poo comes only when we start the car

That i will endure a thousand pains to make sure their world is sunshined!!!

of toes and fingers

Do you ever observe people's fingers and toes? They have so much appeal and personality. almost like a person's face. You can imagine what kind of work they do, how clean they are, how they might dance and fantasize how it would be to be touched by them. 

my precious...

It weighs so heavily on the soul...

Happy friendship day

There are a handful of people who have been there in my life - not just to hear me out, but who have given me good advice, shown me how to laugh at myself and at life, who have told me to square my shoulders and stand up. I may not keep talking to them or keep in touch for ever, but they know that they did me a good turn and I hope I have done them at least one too. I want to tell all of them that they have enriched my life, gifted me a smile without their knowledge and given me memories that I hold dear today.

the notebook

It is a dark thought that you will not be able to write any more. That there is no more poetry or music or dance left in you. That day after day will turn out to be a blank page and you can turn only one page at a time. That you know you have to stare at all the empty lines and only once you are done observing the emptiness, can you turn the page. You do not know how big the note book is. Only that you hope somebody has written beautiful words or music or painted a pretty picture in between the covers and you are patient enough to not tear it all up before you see it.

And you keep turning and turning. 

Killers

Unshed tears and unsaid apologies. 

Unexpressed love and unsaid forgivings.

Unforgotten squabbles and overrated egos. 

kuruvi saththam...

My grand mom used to explain how to find out if the ghee is done melting.  "kuruvi saththam Onji pona nei aayidithunu arththam" If you heat it any more, there will be a burnt smell. The same sound would hold good to tell you that the muruku and thattai and seedai were done frying. No more sparrows, no more murukku / ghee done in the house; let alone - metaphorically comparing their chirping to sound of stuff getting deep fried.

New age metaphors - like the rapid sound of keyboard firing away and the adrenalin rush of checking the number of messages after a two hour break of posting the new photos on facebook will soon rule the day. 

Visitor!

I opened the window and in jumped a chameleon! What a start to a friday :)

Indian spice

Asefodita - sounds like a greek godess. smells like body odour when raw! 

dark

Life is a lonely bitch - Dark chocolate alone makes life worth living.

My butterfly hero

The bangle was handed down one generation to another on her maternal side. It was a delicate openable one with screws to tighten it. Deep somber red rubies alternating with smooth creamy white pearls set inside alternating flowers and leaves in gold. Since it could be opened and closed, the bangle itself was smaller and used to bind her wrists a little bit tighter than normal bangles.

She liked it when he tried to clasp her hand and put on the bangle. This time, he tried to tighten it a bit more than required and the connection between the leaf and the flower snapped. Though the jewellery as such did not have much value for her, the fact that it held so many memories hurt. As endearing as it was, she wished he could be a bit less clumsy.

They were driving back. She was humming long lost tamil songs.She could never remember the lyrics. Only the tunes got stuck in her head. After the first two lines, any song turned into lalala or nanana... He was enjoying the drive and her music at a steady 120 kmph.

The butterfly was black with blue spots and got caught in the wiper on the windscreen. He pulled over to the side and gently plucked it out. It flew away.

She clapped her hands in delight and wondered if he had indeed broken the bangle. 

Faith...

It is difficult for a natural cook to bake. I love to cook spontaneously, using what ever is available in the fridge. It is extremely tedious to read recipies, ensure that you have baking powder and baking soda and sodium bicarbonate and maida and corn flour... aaahhhhh... The devil lies in the details. For a person who thinks any powdered grain - rice, wheat, kadalai maavu and if nothing is there in the house, a bit of powdered almonds/ pottu kadalai will do and add a bit of flair to the sambar - you can imagine how hard baking is.

Not just the ingredients - you have to be so precise about their measures. Some people talk in cups. Others in gms and yet others in ounces/ pints. So many measures!!! I am a person who just tosses in the rice in the cooker and adds how much ever water looks right. No half measures for me! You can imagine my frustration when the recipie asks you to add 160 gms of all purpose flour. Why cant it be any purpose flour instead?

The ultimate test is however when I need to take the cake out of the oven. I am never sure about whether it is done. Neither am I sure about when it is cool enough to turn out of the dish. I keep telling myself that I should trust the recipie and leave it in for as long as it calls for. It needs a lot of faith and a strong will to resist the temptation of doing things immediately. Baking calls for patience. A lot of it.

However - end of the story is very beautiful. I baked a wonderful eggless red velvet cake with wheat flour and butter cream icing and made a beautiful angry bird icing on top of it. :) And my nephew loved it!

what is there to choose?!!!

Hell - a state of permanent want and desire.
Heaven - a state of complete satisfaction with no wants.

I wonder why people would choose either! and I wonder why I wrote about hell before heaven!!

The season has begun

There is no place like home. No place that I enjoy so much. Just the months of November, December and January are sufficient to make madras the best place in the world. There is so much art and culture happening live in the city that it takes my breath away. I love the evenings with the crisp cool air, that favors the women airing out their traditional kanchipuram sarees. I love stepping into the serene atmosphere of kalakshetra - witnessing a performance there is akin to a transcendental experience. Music academy is the snobbish crowd. Narada gana sabha is for the aam-aadmi. Brahma gana sabha, mylapore fine arts, vani mahal, hamsadhwani - so many art clubs. How I love chennai! Much as I have enjoyed living in various places, this is certainly where I feel the happiest! 

growing legs...

My mom used to scold me when I used to ask her to join me in my search for my math homework notebook just before starting to school. She used to tell me "where could it have gone? Search in the same place that you used it last. It could not have grown legs and walked away some place..."

Some times, it really feels like things are willfully hiding from us. Part - 5 of a tamil book series was simply missing for two weeks. We searched in all places and then decided to buy another copy. So, finally on sunday - we went all the way to higginbothams, which was one of the few shops stocking this book and got another copy.

Today - exactly 3 days later, it turns up beneath the inverter in the new house.

aaargh~!!!

When pity hurts more than hurt...

Well meant pity hurts more than hurt itself. It is like the rest of the world has acknowledged your defeat, even when you think there is a standing chance. It makes the fight that bit more difficult. 

A star in the house

My cousin's husband used to tell me, that you just need to figure out if the person you were interviewing would be managable by you. If so, you should say yes and get married. You could not get the perfect man, because he would be a gentleman in some aspects and an a*****e in some...That if you felt a click for some reason, you should go ahead. 

Though most of the time, we make each other tear our hair out, I sometimes get a glimpse of totally unexpected warmness, beauty, appreciation and happiness, that it makes me feel that the person to whom I said "yes - I will", is "the person" in this world for me! 

He surprised me with a white and silver christmas star to hang outside the house yesterday.

Surprise~!

He said he wanted to drink with me some day!!!

you will understand when you grow up...

The first time, I heard somebody use a swear word, I could not understand the meaning of it. I must have been all of ten years old. A bunch of sixth/ seventh standard kids were fighting and they yelled "bastard". Since the conversation was on very heated terms, I thought he meant something derogatory, but did not know what it meant. I asked my mom what it meant and got scolded for being around people who used such words. I asked my dad and he said that I was not old enough to understand the explanations. Since there was no google with auto-correct options to look it up, I searched a dictionary - for quite sometime. (I did not know the spelling either...) The word would not go away.

Later, when I finally learnt that a bustard was "a big terrestrial bird" and that a bastard was "a child born out of wedlock", I was able to understand what it meant. But, by then, I also knew that it was supposed to be a slur on some body's mother and according to the tam culture, insulting a person's mother was worse than insulting the person himself. Like damning somebody even before they are born!

So, what is it about the word bastard, that people use it as a derogatory term? I might find the parents irresponsible for bringing a child that they knew they would not be able to care for. In most cases, I might find fault with the father for either being irresponsible or for abandoning the woman without sharing parenting responsibilities. Why in the world is it used as a swear word? Why is there such a mania for people to know their roots so exactly? Why is it a fault if we are unable to establish our complete parentage? Why would a single parent child be looked upon more favorably than a bastard child?

What is it about marriage that gives sanctity to birth? And I am left with just more questions than ever...