The Daily Moo

Time is Money!

2012-02-22T01:09:00.000+05:30

Okay, so maybe it isn't, whatever. But I'd still like to stress that time is important and especially when it belongs to others. So, if you are one of those who waste people's time then, well, don't. Take as long as you want in the loo. Do what you want to with your hair. Stay late at work, take a shower before dinner. Hey, it's your life and it certainly is your wish. Just don't waste my time while you're at it, okay?

Granted, I'm not the most punctual of people. True, I've probably kept people waiting a few minutes too, just a few. But no way, never as blatantly as the following examples:

Couples who, when invited for lunch will turn up at 4.30 PM. Need I rant any further?
A person who will claim she is just 10 minutes away and will turn up after 3 freaking hours. Arghh!
People who will invite you to go out to dinner, ask you to come over first, and then take their own sweet time showering and trying on outfits. And then when you think you're finally on the way to that much-awaited meal, they will make stops to run their errands. Double Arghh!

Seriously, I understand that younger folks take their time doing things, I understand that it takes time to get kids ready, I understand that at a certain age time doesn't seem very important. I was not very time-conscious myself when I was younger. But with age, I guess it's not so unreasonable to expect some responsibility, don't you think? At least a sense of respect for other's time and plans.

Despite all the ranting, let me tell you that I'm actually a very, very patient person. I tend to give people second chances, and thirds and fourths, and several more after that. But then it gets too much, sometimes. Perhaps that's what I do wrong. Perhaps I need to skip giving chances and be honest the first time around. Oh, well.

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Food || Chocolate Cake in a Box – Easy Peasy!

2012-02-10T17:07:00.000+05:30

This Valentine’s Day,

are you married/dating/in a relationship and looking to do something special for your‘special’ one?

are you single andlooking to do something special for yourself?

are you sick of allthe hoopla every year and will be busy at work only to return late at nightwith no time to do anything special, but that’s okay because it isn’t even aspecial day anyway?

are you one of thoseeternal chocolate haters who will not touch anything with even a hint ofchocolate in it?

If you’ve answered in the affirmative to any of the above, Ihave just the thing for you. If not, I still have just the thing for you. Nomatter what your stance in life, this cake cannotfail you. Fine Print: And if itdoes, well, then you don’t know me and I’ve never heard of you before. :D

It’s Chocolate Cake in Box! Well, originally it’s not made in a box, but I made it and put in abox, and ate it out of the box, and then washed the box and put it away, andhence the name Chocolate Cake in a Box! And let me tell you, it was one of thebest comfort foods ever. It is also gender-neutral. As in, people can make it and enjoy with ease regardless of gender. Especially so, if you're a guy looking to impress your woman. :D

I made this cake almost a year ago, when I had lunch with mytwo best girlfriends. We ordered in some Chinese food that day, kicked back onthe couch and chatted away, and later for dessert, there were three spoons andmy Chocolate Cake in a Box! Needless to say there was a lot of 'mmming' thatfollowed. :D

So without further delay, I present to you the recipe of myChocolate Cake in a Box! Okay, I’ll stop saying that now.

There are two parts to the recipe – The Cake and TheGanache.

The Cake -

Believe me when I tell you this is the easiest and least messy cake to make in the world. No mixing bowls, no eggs, nothing!

Preheat your oven/convection microwave/whatever it is you use to bake at 180C/350F for 10 minutes or so.
Take an 8 inch square baking pan/dish/tin or any other shape that would hold the same volume. It must not be greased. In it, dump 1.5 cups maida (all purpose flour), 1 cup sugar that's been powdered, 1/4th cup unsweetened cocoa powder, 1tsp baking pwd, 3/4 tsp baking soda, and 1/4th tsp salt. Mix it all up with a spoon. In order to avoid lumps, you can sift the dry ingredients first.

Next, add 1/3rd cup melted butter (unsalted, room temperature), 1 cup warm water, 1tsp vanilla essence, 1 tbsp lime juice. Whisk it all around so there aren't any lumps in the batter.

Stick the pan in the oven at the same temperature for about 30 minutes. Or until a toothpick comes out clean from the center.

Cool the cake and put it in a Box! Or, just leave it in the pan and eat from it directly. Who cares, really?

The Ganache Frosting -

The name might sound a bit fancy if you've never made this before, but again, it's really really simple. A child could make it.

Take 50 g of Dark Chocolate and 50 g of Milk Chocolate. (Cooking chocolate that's available in any grocery store). You can substitute this with 100 g of semisweet chocolate if you like, or use more chocolate if you like it really sweet. I wanted it rather mild so everyone could enjoy it.

Chop up all the chocolate and place it in a bowl

To this, add 3/4 cup or 180 ml of Amul Fresh Cream and 1 tbsp unsalted butter (at room temperature).

Place a large bowl of water on the stove and bring it to boil. Then place the bowl of chocolate over the bowl of water, and keep stirring until everything melts and forms a smooth paste. It's really quite fun to do this.
Remove from heat and allow it to cool to room temperature. Your ganache frosting is ready!

You can pour this directly over the cake, or do what I did. Whip it! Preferably use an electric whisk or egg beater to save your arm from falling off. But it gets so much more creamier and yummier. Like this!

Note: This recipe has been adapted from this one, at JoyofBaking.

The ganache can be completed as the cake is baking. So once I had them both ready, I simply slathered the chocolate frosting all over the cake and took the box to my friend's. And then we dug in and this is what it looked like:

Huh, well won't you just look at that. Looks like we dug in pretty neatly. But feel free to make a mess as you please. After all chocolate is the tastiest when it's the messiest! :D

Happy Valentine's Day, folks! Lemme know what your plans are.

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Siesta

2012-02-08T22:21:00.000+05:30

Img Credit: h.koppdelany

I’m sitting in my aunt’s house, it’s newly constructed. I’mtrying to change my clothes. The walls are disappearing. What I thought was aroom turned out to be a balcony. I’m trying to hurry up. There are severalpeople in the house, several voices. They are related to me, very distantly. Mis nearby. He’s smiling, like an acquaintance. I feel a bond, but the bond isfeeble, not as strong as before. A young girl comes up to me, stands beside me.She is dark, sweaty, unattractive, overweight. Yet, she is well dressed. Shecalls me mum. She’s probably in her mid teens. She tells me she wants to goshopping. I tell her, sure dear, let’s do it. Now? Where do you want to shop,Delhi? Mumbai? Here, in Chennai? You name the place and we’ll go there. I feelthe need to indulge her. She hasn’t done anything wrong. She’s been a gooddaughter. She looks innocent and sweet. I like this girl. She tells me she doesn’twant to go now, because it’ll interfere with her studies. She says she wants togo after the exams, during the holidays before she starts college. I agree. Ican’t remember what she’s studying. I just know she’s my daughter, I have noother memory of her. I feel regret.

The scene shifts. I’m sitting outside a huge mansion. It isbuilt in the style of ancient Indian architecture but it’s new. I don’t knowwhat’s the purpose of this building but it isn’t someone’s home. I’m sittingamong a group of people and Sadhguru is sitting before us. M is somewhere inthe group, not beside me. I suddenly realize I’m missing something, I left itat the hotel. I need to go get it and get back. I start walking barefoot, thepath to the hotel is up a small hill. I walk ten steps, near enough so thatSadhguru’s voice on the microphone is still audible. He’s talking about astory, of the enlightenment of Lord Vinayaka, which happened on those hills. Ashe speaks, I look up and there is a temple of a Goddess on the slope. I realizethat I’m standing on the exact spot of Ganesha’s enlightenment. I am unable tomove. I need to go forward. I look back, I’m not too far away I think, no onewill miss me. I am overcome by the urge to sit down right there. I fall to theground, close my eyes. A song is playing now, a powerful one. I fall bang intomeditation. I go deeper than I ever have gone before. I’m forgetting who I am,I can feel it. The identity of Sumitra is getting all erased, wiped out.Everything is blanking fast. It’s scary, I panic. I want to go back, I have togo back. I force myself to get out of this. It’s like a black hole, pulling mefast into the void and I’m struggling to pull the plug. Finally I yank my eyesopen. I’m in my aunt’s house. Changing my clothes. I hear several voices. But Iam alone.

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My Loo, My Paradise

2012-02-06T08:01:00.000+05:30

Paradise, technically, is probably a place you would never want to leave. If this were true, then my paradise can lie in one and only one place.

The Bathroom.

In order to explain myself, I must start at the very beginning. The apartment I grew up in was a warm and cozy double-bedroom. It was just enough for a family of three - my parents and me. I loved that little home dearly, and I probably still do. The place is so synonymous with the word 'home' for me, that even today my dreams are filled with that apartment, and not my current place of residence. I had a nice room all to myself, but the bathroom was where I got all the real privacy I needed.

Our bathroom was neat and simple; it had a tub, a toilet, a basin and a washing machine. I can still imagine being in it vividly, as though I were there only yesterday. As an avid reader, imaginer, mirror-actor and day dreamer, it was the one place where all my antics would go completely unnoticed. And so I remained there for long periods of time. It was common knowledge in my family that once I went in, I rarely ever came out. People wondered what I could possible be doing in there for so long. Oh, if only they knew how the place came alive for me in more ways than one.

Img Credit: nanny snowflake

Most of all, I liked to read in the loo. Especially during exam-time, when I wasn't allowed to read any story books. I would stuff a book under my shirt and dash inside. Once the door was locked, people were hardly likely to bother me because, well, I was in the loo, doing my business! That's legal, right? So I read and I read, and then I read some more. Coming out with the book wasn't always as easy, especially if someone was waiting to use the bathroom next. So I came up with hiding places - outside the window on the sill, behind the washing machine, the bottom of the laundry basket. Soon, I stopped being bothered to retrieve the books at all, so I always had my stash waiting for me when I sneaked in. This went on for long, until my mother one day discovered a high stack of books sitting on the sill. It was not a good day for me.

While there are several other things I did in there (refer to this post for more info), I find reading in the loo to be the most relaxing and stress-busting activity ever. In fact, I will now sheepishly let you in on a little secret of mine. I have read so much in the loo that now I cannot spend more than 15 minutes in a book store. Because if I do, I will have to go! Seriously, every single time. M says I'm psychologically wired that way for life.

So as you can see, I have had a long-standing relationship with my beloved bathroom. It is the place I go when I am happy or sad, when I must think and ponder, when I must read, or simply to get away. No I really do not need an expensive vacation to get away from the stresses of life, a few hours in the loo will work out just fine. The bathroom is such an important place to me that it is the first thing I look at when we're looking for an apartment to rent, or even in a hotel room. If the loo is good, I am good too.

Img Credit: rockinfree

But I must tell you that I have a dream as far as bathrooms are concerned. A dream bathroom, if you will. That is, if I ever write a book that will make me as rich as J K Rowling, the one thing I know for sure is the kind of bathroom I will build myself. I don't really care about the rest of the house or anything, it could be in ruins for all I care, as long as I get this room right. And I will now tell you exactly what I have in mind (rubs hands together gleefully :D ).

A minimum area of 400 sq.ft.
Two toilet stalls, each with their own door and separate exhaust.
Two wash basins complete with mirrors and appropriate lighting.
Noiseless exhaust systems.
A shower room with glass doors, that also works as a steam room.
A bathtub.
A lounge area, consisting of but not limited to - a soft couch, a fully-stocked bookshelf, a massage table, LCD TV, laptop, WiFi connectivity, a bowl of exotic chocolates, a collection of aromatic oils.
A dressing area that has the softest of silken robes, the fluffiest of towels and the warmest of slippers.
Super-ventilation with sunlight and fresh air pouring in from all sides.

If you cannot possibly imagine the kind of room I'm talking about, please search Google Images for 'Luxury Bathrooms'. I assure you that you will still have no idea as to what I'm talking about. I have myself never set eyes on a bathroom like this except for in my imagination. If you do stumble upon a picture close to what I've described then pliss, pliss to be sharing with me, kindly :)

So now you know why my loo is my paradise. Do you share a special relationship with any of the rooms in your home? Do let me know!

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The Truth About Relationships

2012-02-01T20:57:00.000+05:30

It feels good to get back to my blog after a nice, long break. The mind's refreshed and brimming with ideas now. M and I had been to Chennai this past week, visiting with my family - cousins, aunts, uncles, nieces and nephews. We had a great time bonding with everyone, it was a happy and welcome break from being alone most of the time in Bangalore.

Photo Credit ~ left-hand

The best part of our visit to Chennai, I would say, is the stuff I got to learn about relationships. M and I do not have siblings and hence don't have any family bonding to do on a regular basis. We're pretty much on our own always. My extended family lives in Chennai and the last time I'd spent any time with them was a good half-a-dozen years ago. So as an adult, this was the first time I got to see what relations are like up-close, other than what I'd learned from my parents as a kid.

During my growing-up years, what I witnessed most around my grandma, mom and her siblings in the name of family bonding was mostly, gossip. People were always talking about someone who wasn't there at the time and it was never really anything good. There were too many misunderstandings to even keep count of. So my general opinion of extended family was really quite distorted. Though I never did make it known, I was always skeptical about the meaning of a family, when all everyone ever did was bitch about each other. I grew up not liking those discussions, and tried my best to stay out.

But this time, I really did see a very different side to my family. It think it was more so because my mother and her siblings are now older and have taken a back seat. It's more the generation of my cousins and their children and to a large extent, things are very different today. I ended up thinking that if this is what family is like, I'd love to be a part of it.

So I'd like to share with you the three most important truths about relationships I learned during this visit.

Truth #1: People are Basically Good

The things we hear on the news and other sources around us have possibly convinced us that the world is a bad place to live in, and that we have to watch out for ourselves. We're always warned of being robbed, duped or assaulted. I'm really not familiar with statistics when I say this, but in reality I think the contrary is true. In reality, most people are actually pretty good.

Photo Credit ~ Katerha

I spent a lot of time observing and understanding the way people talk and behave in the past week. I've also spent time in pitting people against what is being said about them behind their backs. And the truth, I feel, is that people are just plain good. Misunderstood, yes, but most certainly not as bad as they are made out to be.

What people certainly are, is defensive. The fear of getting hurt has basically robbed us of the ability to trust, and hence we doubt the motives of everyone around us. We also misunderstand the most basic of actions, failing to realize where certain words or behaviour might be coming from.

So the first truth is this: If you are able to get past the many guards and walls that people have built around themselves as protection, you will find that they are really as sweet and vulnerable as puppies. Yes, most people are really just good.

Truth #2: Affection is to People, as Pollen is to Bees

Deep inside each and every one of us lies a desire for recognition and appreciation. What people want out of relationships is to be understood, for others to be on their side, to see the world from their point of view. In short, everyone is looking for affection.

Photo Credit ~ PSS

An age-old wisdom that I've been hearing about ever since I can remember is that when you live in affluence, people will flock around you. Examples have been quoted from time to time, in order to drive this point. And yet, I don't see this to be true. In fact, the opposite is true. The more affectionate you are, the more people tend to enjoy your company. I'm a great believer of Mithe Bol, roughly translated to sweet or polite words, that are of course, not fake.

I was really quite surprised with all the affection that M and I received from my family. They all had gifts to offer us along with home-cooked delicacies, which was a wonderful gesture and completely unexpected. Far from the monetary value, what we saw was the thought behind the gestures and we were totally bowled over by everything that was done for us.

And so, the second truth is this: It's nice to be nice, even when you are being truthful, even when you are saying what you have to say. People appreciate being treated with the respect and courtesy that they deserve and this is what it takes to build great relationships.

Truth #3: It's Best to Turn Off the Super-Sensitive Radar

As we all know from our own individual experience, where there are relatives, there is bound to be an abundance of comments, advice and judgement. This is really a universal law of sorts and something that cannot be escaped. In fact, since every one is in the same boat, your relatives might be thinking the same of you. We are all guilty of having made comments on the lives of others at some point of time. There's no denying this.

So, what's to be done? Nothing, really. Acceptance is what makes everything easy. If you learn not to take anything seriously, and take everything in your stride, you will see that judgments and advice are a very small part of life that take up very little time. They are only blown out of proportion in our own minds, when we incessantly dwell upon them.

Other things that are common when relatives gather are comparisons and complaints . Sometimes people miss out a person or two while offering something by mistake, sometimes people genuinely haven't heard you because they were preoccupied, sometimes people were tired and didn't make that second dish for lunch or could only make you idlis for dinner, sometimes they might have miscalculated and the rice wasn't enough, or they forgot to offer you a bedspread or towel and you had to ask for it, sometimes people select the wrong color or material of clothes they gift you - these are really very, very silly things that I have heard people complain about for years and years.

So the last, and perhaps the most important truth about relationships is this: You really have to know when something is silly and let it go. You need to look at the larger picture, at how much effort has gone into something and how much people have done for you out of their own capacity. While appreciation goes a long way, nitpicking takes you nowhere.

Photo Credit ~ Arbron

So these are the gems of wisdom I've gathered from the past few days I spent visiting with my relatives. What would you like to add/subtract/confirm/oppose to/from these? Any of these apply to you and your family? Do let me know in the comments below.

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Useless Confessions - III

2012-01-20T22:56:00.000+05:30

I have to start this confession with a confession. I got nothing!

When I planned out this series in my head, I had three separate incidents in mind. But somehow, over the past three weeks, the third one has managed to slip out of my woozy brain. I can't remember it, no matter what. I spent the whole day yesterday racking my upstairs, but it just wouldn't come back to me. I can remember other stories, but they're just not as interesting. I know I should have written this down when I remembered, but I was lazy and now I don't have it. I'm so sorry to disappoint.

But of course, there are a few useless confessions I can still make. About my greatest useless fears. Now, I know there are people who think fears are useful because they help you do better in life, but believe me when I say that my fears are basically, utterly and absolutely useless. So today I'll talk about one of them.

This fear is so silly that I'm even ashamed to admit it. But yes, I'm afraid of Ghosts. I always have been and, I know always will be. Can't even remember when it started. I'll just go list out a few crazy fears I've had about ghosts over the years. Go ahead and laugh all you want, don't be shy now.

My first nightmare was of a little girl - who was headless. A large part of my childhood I was pretty scared that girl was going to show up in my room in the middle of the night.

I made up this thing about a phantom who rode a horse, broke in to kid's rooms through the window at night and stole them away. No idea where I got that from, but I spent many a sleepless night over him. Not your typical knight-in-shining-armour stuff, eh?

Someone in school told the story of Bloody Mary. That if you go to the bathroom, switch off the lights, close your eyes, turn around three times saying Bloody Mary, a crazed woman would appear with an axe and chop off your head. Now after this, every time I went to the loo, nothing came to my mind except Bloody Mary. You know, like the song that gets stuck in your head and doesn't go away. I would just rush through my business and dash out as soon as I could.

In my Grandma's house, I was usually allotted the diwan in the hall to sleep at night. And the hall window was right behind my bed. They kept it open at night during summers. So if I opened my eyes and turned around, I could see right outside the house. I was so dead scared that the bell would ring and I would turn around to see some chudail woman standing at the window, smiling her devilish smile.

The Ring. One of the scariest movies I've ever watched. I actually used to get scared that something would crawl out of the TV when I was up studying late at night.

Things have changed a bit, now that I'm older. Yes, I'm still scared but a little less and I've noticed a pattern. There are some houses/rooms where nothing happens at all, I'm never scared and I rarely get bad dreams. Then, there are a few places where I just cannot sleep once I'm left alone. It's just too involuntary to even know why. I just try to have someone with me in such places.

In spite of all this, I still do watch horror films. You know, like I'll be flipping channels and one of them would be playing a horror flick. And then I'll be too tempted. I know it'll scare the bejesus out of me and I won't sleep again for the next week or so, but I'll just have to watch it.

Geez, this post makes me sound like such a nutcracker, doesn't it? Tell me you have some irrational fears too, won't you?

Read up on my other Useless Confessions, Part I and Part II

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And These Are a Few of My Favourite Things!

2012-01-16T23:07:00.000+05:30

Photo Credit: {eclaire}

Blogs! I have come to love so many of them. And each week I discover new ones, all the time amazed at the beautiful posts people come up with. I read somewhere that blogging promotes mediocrity, but I don't really think so, when I see the super-talented people out there who now have the power to publish their own material.

Being a mediocre writer myself, who is struggling to gain a better understanding of the art each day, I am no real judge of who writes what well. But I thought it would be fun to share with you all, my dear readers, some of the endearing posts that I read each week. Just like we tell each other about great books, we should tell each other about great blogs, no?

I want to do this each week but I'm not sure if I will be able to, I'll try, nevertheless. I will be writing about the posts and not the blogs, the difference is important I think, because every writer has their finer moments, and their not so fine ones. So I may mention the same blogger more than once, or whatever, you get the idea.

So let's get started! A few blog posts I've read in the past week, that have kept me engrossed and interested in random order:

Note: These are not necessarily posts that were written in the past week, I just came across them in that time frame.

It's Fungi This post is by Srikanth who blogs at 'Journey of Life'. He talks about a walk he took one evening and saw something that compelled him to return the next morning with a camera. The unusual, yet beautiful sighting is documented with lovely words and some simply-superb photographs. It was a refreshing read.

Look What We Found Written by The Girl Next Door, right here in Bangalore. Wish she lived next door to me, I'm so craving some good ol' girl-bonding :( Anyway, she's written a great description of some amazing Bangalorean street food, that got my mouth watering right away. I gotto try this place as soon as I can.

Parenthood, and all that Jazz This is not one of her latest posts, but the one that struck me the most as I was going through her blog. She's Smitha, a 'confirmed Blogomaniac' who needs just Any Excuse to Write. In this post she articulated quite well the predicament her daughter was facing at school, and how she handled it. A common scenario faced by many parents, I suppose. The post is very much well worth the read.

Confidence Is The post is what the title suggests, oozing with confidence. The picture at the top says it all. As a person with a similar build, I could never pose for a self portrait with such an attitude. Nevertheless, Rashmi's words had a nice effect on me the day I read it, a bit of the confidence seeped in through my brain cells as well, working its magic. We girls should write and read such posts more often!

Awakening the Social Animal Okay, I so I cheat a bit, I read this more than a week ago, but I couldn't help mentioning it. The post is so reflective of the late-twenties-something girl that I have evolved into. Piya introspects at Yesterday Once More, inspired by a profound quote from Winnie the Pooh.

Heads You Win; Tails I Lose Another gripping work of fiction from none other than the talented Phatichar. I would describe it as unputdownable, but since it's a blog, I'd say it was un-unscrolldownable. :D

A Helping of Buddha Vikas wrote this at Vicky~Pedia, as a part of the KFC Fiery Grilled contest on Indiblogger. How he managed to find a connection between KFC and Buddha is something baffling to me, but he did and with awesome style. This is some amazing talent if you ask me, I would be very surprised if he did not win.

My Encounter with the Inevitable Again, I cheat. Keirthana has a profound conversation with her inner-self, somewhat inspired by the last one between Harry and Dumbledore. Made for a very interesting read. Some important revelations came out of it too.

That's all for now, folks. Don't forget to tell me about your favourite posts!

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Useless Confessions - II

2012-01-12T22:24:00.002+05:30

This post is the second of a three-part series I'm doing on Confessions from my past. The thing about them is that they're utterly useless. It feels good to write about them, though! Check out Part I here.

***

I was about 8 or 9 years old. We hadn’t gone on our usual trip to India during summer break, we had stayed behind. After dad went to work, mum and I went to a local health club for a few hours every day. A summer kids camp was on that year at the club, so we kids were packed away while the ladies splashed around in the pool and did their aerobics.

It was a fun camp for the most part. The organizers were mostly American housewives who were pretty good at engaging children in various activities. The kids at the camp came from various backgrounds – there were British, American, Arab, Indian (of course) and even a few African kids I think. We all mixed well for the most part, although I do remember a few curious stares and strange questions from the white kids. Some of them were polite and well behaved, while others were downright rotten.

I remember visiting an Ice Cream factory that summer as a part of the camp. There was also a trip to an Insect Zoo. The American kids had brought jars to take pet insects home. The very idea seemed repulsive to me then. We had games in the pool and the gymnasium and several other activities. I played baseball for the first time in my life. I just couldn’t get the hang of it. J

We had a couple of art classes that summer. One of them is where the story of my confession unfolds.

All the kids had assembled in a conference room at the club. The ladies took out several art kits and opened them, explaining to us what each item was meant for. Metal wires were to be twisted into loops and dipped in paint to look like petals. Several petals would be put together to make a flower. The flower then had to be stuck onto a board that made the base. That was the project.

The ladies began distributing the material. Turns out they were a few boards short, and some of the kids didn’t get any, me being one of them. I was pretty pissed. I thought the lady deliberately hadn’t given me a board so the white kids could have enough. I’m not sure why I felt that way. Maybe I had witnessed something of that sort earlier. Or maybe it was just my imagination at work. I can’t remember now.

Anyway, I was pretty mad. I glanced around the table, and then I spotted it. There was a board left unattended. It was just lying there, with no one around to claim it. I couldn’t believe my eyes at first, but I slowly began inching towards it. When I finally reached it, my hands itched. I knew it belonged to someone, I knew it was wrong to take. But I so badly didn’t want to be left out. I didn’t want to be the one to show my mom a half-baked art piece at the end of the day when all my friends had good ones. So I gave in to the temptation. I grabbed it and ran.

Back in my seat, I glanced around the room again. My little act had gone unnoticed! Thereafter I kept very quiet, silently working away at the instructions. Only for a while, though. Soon, somebody had started bawling in the room. I looked up to see a girl standing at the very spot of my crime. It was evidently her board I had taken. She cried and cried and cried some more. People consoled her but she refused to be consoled. She actually threw a tantrum, stomping away in fury. A part of me wanted to give it back, but then I had gotten stared already and I didn’t really fancy approaching someone throwing such a hissy fit. So I let it go.

Eventually they found her a makeshift board made of thermocol. She was silent the rest of the day, sullen and moody. I remember feeling guilty about it, I’m not the sort who likes to make people cry. The art had lost all its joy for me. It was the last time I’d ever taken anything that wasn’t mine.

So there you have it, yet another useless confession off my chest. Nope, no one knew about this until now. One less thing to take to the grave!

***

Do you have useless confessions to make too? I'd love to hear about them. Stay tuned for part III, coming up same day, next week.

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Thank You Purvi!

2012-01-12T16:28:00.002+05:30

I'd just like to make a quick note of thanks to Purvi, who graciously passed on her Versatile Blogger Award to me, among others. Thank you girl, that was a very sweet gesture.

I know most of you already know her for her blog is quite popular. For those of you who don't, Purvi is an amazing art, fashion and food blogger, who documents her beautiful work at Purvi's Creative Hub. The wall art pieces that she showcases through her blog are intricate and nothing short of lovely. True to the name of her blog, Purvi is extremely creative. The girl paints with coffee! Can you believe that? I can't even paint properly with regular paints. Go check out her blog for more information on her work.

Now, I'm supposed to write random facts about myself. Well, I think I write a lot about my life and this blog is strewn with several such random facts so I don't want to be repeating myself and boring you all.

I'm also supposed to pass on the award to 15 bloggers. It seems unfair to choose only 15 among the many beautiful blogs that I read. I would anyway be writing about the blogs and bloggers I love in the posts to come, focusing on one at a time. So I think I will pass on this one too. :)

Thank you once again, Purvi!

Stay tuned for Part II of my Useless Confessions, coming up later tonight!

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Books || Growing Up Bin Laden

2012-01-09T22:38:00.000+05:30

Note: The contents of this post might be perceived as sensitive by some. Please understand that I come from a very neutral point of view, free from prejudice against any religion. My intention is absolutely not to offend anybody from any walk of life.

When I first got to know about this book through The Hindu’s Literary Page, I knew I had to read it right away. There are few things that hold my attention as much as the topic of terrorists. I’m always interested to know about the people behind the acts of terror that we see and hear about. What kind of people are they? What drives them to do what they do? Why don’t they ever give up, even when they fail? What makes them so passionate, that they are willing to sacrifice life, even their own?

It was the answers to such questions that I was seeking when I first opened the book. Until I turned the final leaf last night, I was literally hooked on to the journey into the lands of the Arabs, and later that of the Pashtuns. All through, I learned many startling facts about the man who was until recently, the world’s most wanted – Osama Bin Laden.

Growing Up Bin Laden shows us a glimpse of the life lead by Osama, through the eyes of his wife and son. The book is co-authored by Najwa Bin Laden – his first wife and first cousin, Omar Bin Laden – his fourth son from Najwa, and Jean Sasson – an American writer who recounts their stories. It was written a few years before Osama Bin Laden’s assassination.

Through this book, I was surprised to learn that as a boy, Osama was held in high regard by his family - as quiet, studious, staunchly religious and extremely well mannered. No one could ever have guessed that this boy would one day be responsible for the death of so many people around the world. Although their marriage was arranged, Najwa and Osama had fallen in love before they were wed, as they often spent time in each other’s company as cousins.

The book presents us with two very personal and paradoxical roles played by Osama, as a husband and as a father. While he appears to have succeeded in the former, as is evident from Najwa’s account, in the latter he seems to have failed. The pages of the book are filled with stories of Osama’s neglect of his children, and how Omar was very keenly aware of it. On the one hand he permitted his wife to leave him and their home in Afghanistan when she requested it and on the other, he encouraged his sons to voluntarily sign up as suicide bombers.

There is no doubt about the fact that Osama was a highly intelligent man. A mathematical genius, if you will. But he was also ruthlessly stubborn. And a believer of violent Jihad. A powerful and dangerous concoction was always in the brewing, and the political situation in the Arab world only fuelled the fire.

Through the book, Omar bin Laden tells us of his father’s missions, his true motives. The following words were spoken by Osama, directly to Omar:

"First we obliterate America. By that I don’t mean militarily. We can destroy America from within by making it economically weak, until its markets collapse. When that happens, they will have no interest in supplying Israel with arms, for they will not have extra funds to do so. Their defeat and collapse may not come in my lifetime. It may not come in your lifetime, but it will come. One day Muslims will rule the world. That is God’s plan, Omar, for Muslims to rule."

Osama’s life vision was that “the entire world should be Islamic.” Omar goes on to confess that he felt “not one jolt of passion” for his father’s life.

It also came as a surprise to me that Osama was a frugal man. Although born into one of the richest families of Saudi Arabia, his wives and children were not permitted to use modern conveniences such as air conditioners, refrigerators and televisions. He believed that these would be a hindrance in the practice of true Islam. No, I suppose he was not greedy for power or wealth. He was only a man so driven by his belief in his interpretation of religion that he was willing to put everything at stake. Absolutely everything.

Which makes me wonder. I mean, put aside the fact that he was a terrorist. Put aside everything ‘evil’ he’s done. I know it’s hard, but let’s. What remains is passion. The man did whatever he believed was right. Without a day’s hesitation, without a day’s lethargy, without a day’s rest. How many of us can claim to be able to do that, with whatever we are passionate about in our lives. How many of us ‘good’ people can go about life with that kind of fire in the belly – to do the opposite of what he did. For the number of passionate ‘evil’ doers there are out there, are there an equal number of passionate ‘good’?

Of course, this doesn’t justify what he’s done. It’s just an observation, my observation.

Growing Up Bin Laden certainly makes for an excellent read. It provides the quality of a gripping novel of fiction, it’s a book one would find hard to put down. The sad thing is, the stories in it are true. And enough to give you goose bumps all through.

I’ll leave you with a few more quotes. The book is available on Flipkart, here and Amazon, here.

“During all the years of our marriage, Osama had always said that any of his wives were free to leave any time they felt the desire to do so.

Osama saw me several times before I left. He made a particular point of telling me, as he had when I had gone to Syria to give birth to Nour, “I will never divorce you, Najwa. Even if you hear I have divorced you. It is not true.”” – Najwa Bin Laden

“I often wonder if my father has killed so many times that the act of killing no longer brings him pleasure or pain. I am nothing like my father. While he prays for war, I pray for peace. And now we go our separate ways, each believing that we are right. My father has made his choice, and I have made mine. I am, at last, my own man.” – Omar Bin Laden

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When the Maami Wore a Burkha

2012-01-07T23:45:00.001+05:30

Passing time at the doctor’s office can be a big bore. Especially if you don’t have a good book or an interesting conversationalist for company. It’s usually my mom or M who accompany me and they’re no fun. Doctor’s lounges transform them into zombie-like versions of themselves, they simply stare into space, holding on to their chins, a small frown between the brows. No amount of my pestering can snap them out of it.

So over the years, I’ve devised several ways to amuse myself. The best one is observing people. I’ll admit it, I’m one of those loony girls who will stare until you’re wondering if there’s something stuck in your teeth. I know it sounds creepy, but I can’t help it, I just find people fascinating. I take in all the details, right from what they’re wearing to their tiny mannerisms, and then I make up stories about their lives in my head. Silly ones.

Some people look incredibly Indian, while others look like they might be from anywhere in the world. This always gets my attention. I wonder if this is so because of their genes, their dressing or their attitude towards life. So I give them a mental makeover. For instance, if there’s this ultra-hip girl in tight jeans and heels, I imagine what she would look like if she lived 30 years ago, in a sari, hair tied into a tight plait, and a big red pottu on her forehead. I do the same for guys, imagining them in a lungi and well-oiled hair. It’s funny to see in my head that they all fit pretty well into Indian costumes. Very rarely do I see someone who just doesn’t look Indian from any angle.

I do the opposite as well, put traditionally-dressed people in modern attire to see if they could ever ‘adapt’. Most of them would, my conclusions tell me. Cross-religious dressing is fun too. Like a imagining a woman in a burqa dressed like a Tamilian maami and vice versa. Sounds blasphemous, I know. But I guess it’s just my way of removing the tags people have created for themselves, realizing that essentially everyone is the same. Okay, that was too meaningful. This is a silly post. Moving on…

Yesterday I found myself waiting yet again, while the super-busy doc kept seeing medical reps. It was exasperating, of course, until my eyes fell on this person and then he had my complete attention. I found him so fascinating, I almost had the mind to walk up to him and say, Excuse me sir, I find you fascinating. I now severely regret not doing that.

I immediately started my Sherlock-Holmes-wannabe-type investigations. The man was visibly in his early to mid-forties, owing to gray strands, bags under his eyes, and a large paunch. He was pretty fair by Indian standards. I was guessing Muslim, and he confirmed it by answering his mobile in a pronounced Urdu twang. By then, I was hooked.

What drew me to him was that despite the telltale signs of aging, his face had retained a boyish sort of aura. He wore a perpetual frown, as though he was confused about something. Reasonably well-dressed, and yet I couldn’t help thinking that he was charmingly careless about things. I shamelessly listened in on his conversation, turns out he had forgotten his file and was asking someone to get it for him. Aha! One of my observations turned out right.

His gait and mannerisms suggested a certain amount of affluence, yet the powerful personality that comes from a successful career was missing. He kept glancing nervously at a crying baby in the room, as though he would have liked to do something to cheer her, but wasn’t too confident of speaking up. The man with the baby dropped his pen, and Mr. Boyish-charm immediately stooped down to pick it up. Ah, my object of observation had a good, helpful heart, I concluded.

My fun was interrupted when the doc was finally ready to see me. And then I forgot all about him, until now.

So this is what I do, more often than not. Not just at the doc’s, but at bus stops, railway stations, airports, pretty much anywhere I’m waiting. Please somebody tell me this isn’t too creepy. Oh well, it’s okay if it is I guess. The world needs more creepsters like me, or so I would like to believe.

One day, I’m going to muster up the courage to speak to the people I find interesting. Hopefully, when I do that, I will come back and tell you all about it.

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Useless Confessions - I

2012-01-05T21:21:00.005+05:30

This post is the first of a three-part series I'm doing on Confessions from my past. The thing about these confessions is that they are pretty much useless. But I'd like to have people know about them anyway!

***

I was little, very little. I don’t remember how old. I could walk and talk, but I was little. Keep that in mind, okay? Okay.

We were on a plane, me and mum. I don’t remember if we were coming or going. This is a very vague memory, almost like a dream. I was thirsty, I asked mum for water. She told me to go up to the stewardess and ask for it. Moms in the 80s had some new-fangled ideas about teaching their kids to be independent. Does this still happen?

So, I got out of my seat, went to that little place up front where all the stewardesses disappeared into. There were a group of them standing around, talking, laughing. I barely reached their knees. They looked very pretty in their silk blouses and short skirts and pantyhose and those smart caps they wore. I went up to one of them and tugged at her skirt.

The rest of the memory is sort of hazy, like in slow motion. She looked down at me and smiled. I said something that included the word ‘water’. She smiled even wider and nodded. Then she led me to this water dispensing thing, filled a small paper cup and handed it to me, before returning to her friends.

The cup was full and difficult to handle, I think. I took a sip. And then the unthinkable happened. I dropped it. One neat ‘splat’ and the cup was on the carpeted floor, water splashed all over. My heart was pounding, I was scared. The low hum of the aircraft was all I could hear, it was deafening.

I picked up the cup gingerly, walked slowly up to the stewardess and gave it back to her. She smiled yet again, took it from me and returned to her conversation.

And then I ran. Back to my seat and my mom, where I believed I was safe.

“Did you get your water?” asked mum.

“Mhmmm,” I nodded.

Every time I saw that stewardess come up the aisle, I was shit scared that she was coming to scold me, or rat on me to my mom. But she never did. I continued to feel pretty awful though, as though I had done something terrible. That was one flight I was very glad to get off.

I’ve never told anyone about this, until now. I had planned on taking my secret to the grave, but oh well, now I can go with a clear conscience.

***

Do you have useless confessions to make too? I'd love to hear them! Share in the comments, or do a response to this post on your own blog. :) Stay tuned for part II, coming up same day, next week.

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2012 Happenings

2012-01-02T21:02:00.002+05:30

In my last post, 'Reflections', I openly challenged the year ahead. I believe my precise words were, 'Bring it on, 2012!' Perhaps I was being a tad idiotic, perhaps I should have been a bit more respectful, for the 2012 fairy godmother appears to have taken my words too literally. I received a nice shocker right at the stroke of midnight.

No, it wasn't a beautiful white ball gown, or a Pumpkin-turned-chariot, or even a pair of glass slippers. It was nothing like I expected it to be. Ladies and Gentleman, as celebrations erupted in this part of the world welcoming the arrival of a brand new-year that has been proclaimed to bring doom to planet Earth, the thing that I received was a nice, long lecture from my mum. About why I should be having kids this year.

I'm not kidding. This is exactly what happened. M and I were up, doing this and that. We hadn't planned on calling anyone at midnight. Eventually, the clock struck 12. We looked at each other, smiled. Our arms outstretched, we moved towards each other, expecting to receive warm hugs. Instead, we froze mid-hug, when the phone rang. Smiles turned to frowns, and then quizzical expressions followed. We dropped our arms and M went to answer it. My parents.

I couldn't believe they had stayed up till midnight, but apparently my dad had insisted that they wish us first, before going to bed. So M spoke to Dad, Mom spoke to M, I spoke to Dad... That was all sweet and nice, I thought, until I spoke to mom. And then the lecture started. Let's just leave it at that.

For those of you who are wondering, no I'm not against having kids, but I don't know when it'll happen. It'll happen, I know that for sure. One day, I will magically know that I'm ready and everything will fall into place. It could be tomorrow, a few months later or whenever, I don't know. I believe parenting is a calling, and when it calls out to me, I will rise to the occasion. Anyway, baby-planning as a topic demands a post of its own, so I'll leave it at that as well.

The First Day

1st Jan turned out to be nice. We did go to Woodstock for breakfast, except that it turned out to be brunch instead. The poor guys were severely understaffed, owing to the fact that the previous night's party had gone on until 4 AM. Nevertheless, the food was yum yum, as usual. So, no complaints there. I actually wanted to take a pic to share with you guys, but I was too famished to even remember by the time food arrived.

We then went shopping for a scarf, but I ended up buying an omelette pan and a pair of house-pants. I call them house-pants for lack of a better term, but they are the most comfortable pair I've ever slipped into. So comfortable, that I never want to take them off again. I love my new pants.

The Second Day

I started a new workout regime today. It's real fun. Can't wait to do more!

More News!

In other spectacular 2012 news, one of my good friends has taken up a whopper of a new year's resolution. She calls it Mission Impossible, and I think the title is befitting. It is so amazing, and I think she's amazing for even attempting it. Hold on to your pants, I'll tell you more.

Rafath (that's her name), is one of my good friends from Google. The first important fact of relevance here is that she is a totally heels-crazy gal. She writes a shoe blog, where she showcases beautiful designer heels that are absolutely drool-worthy.

The second fact is that she has been trying to lose weight for some time.

So in a brilliant strategy that kills several birds with one stone, she has decided to put the two together. She's started a challenge to lose a certain amount of weight, failing which, she will be giving away all her heels. For free! Yes, you heard me right. For every kg of weight she does not lose every fortnight, she will be giving away one pair from her amazing collection of heels.

Oh, and she's blogging about it. So please go and read all about her mighty endeavour, here. She's already put up the first pair of heels on the altar - gorgeous red suede platform pumps.

Oh, and there's a double-incredible-nail-biting twist to this. An anonymous reader has promised to gift her a Giuseppe Zanotti pair, if she is on track for three months. Now I don't know much about heels, but going by her reaction it's pretty huge, and it's gotten her all the more pumped (no pun intended)! All we know for now is that the mysterious generous benefactor is male (oooh!), and presumably, rich. :D

That's all the exciting new from me so far for this year. How have your first two days of 2012 been?

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Reflections

2011-12-28T22:39:00.002+05:30

I’ve been reading a lot of bloggers talking about the year gone by and the year to come. Read so many good posts that now I’m tempted to do it too. I normally don’t look back or make too many resolutions for the future. But let’s see how this goes.

Photo Credit: Snapclusion

2011.

Jan

Spent the first month of the year in preparation for a Yoga retreat, so it was mostly a cleansing kind of diet/lifestyle. I had to eat a lot of fresh foods and I was practically meditating all day. Surprisingly, it wasn’t the most peaceful of months, I got to meet the several demons that live within me. It was like an upheaval of sorts.

Started a baking blog, that was pretty short lived.

Feb

Went to the retreat, it was an 8-day silence program. Confronted the demons. Killed some. Turned out sitting for 8 days with only just my thoughts, attempting to achieve true silence is pretty much one of the toughest things I’ve ever done. It was frustrating, I even wanted to run away. But there were moments when it was good, and then it was really really good. Came back with new perceptions, new understanding, the silence within me deepened, and so did my gratitude for life.

March

The beginning of a new life, in a new city. This was totally unexpected and unplanned. A few last-minute decisions and we found ourselves in Bangalore. 10 days in the company guest house, not a thing to do, no cleaning, no cooking. Was like heaven. Went around exploring, house hunting.

April

Shuttling back and forth, getting things in order, settling down. Reaped the true benefits of the silence program. Encountered a major personal and emotional setback, but brushed it away with ease. I was proud of myself!

May

Played tourist. Walked around. Ate well – Dosas and coffee mostly. Turned out people love Bangalore in the summer. Relatives came over, had a great time with them.

June

Finally started settling in. In-laws came to visit. They were majorly bored, mostly because we do not have a T.V. Took them around the city, they liked the weather and the vegetables.

July

Parents came over. At this point, we were having someone over every 2 weeks. Felt good though. Mom didn’t let me do a thing! Ate a lot of dosas. Discovered CTR and Vidyarthi Bhavan. Excellent.

August

I hated Bangalore. The weather made my allergies wreak havoc in my nostrils. I was sick most of the month. Birthday passed uneventfully. Hit two-eight. Two more years to the big three-O. Found out I didn’t feel any different. My brain lacks the capacity to feel old.

September

No respite with the allergies. Started blogging regularly. Settled in some more and started freelance writing as well. Took M to the ashram, it was lovely and I was genuinely glad that he liked the place. A new-found love for Sherlock Holmes happened, M and I watched the entire 1984 series on YouTube. Also discovered JustBooks and my reading has increased ever since.

October

The month was just one big sneeze. Nothing more to say.

November

Anniversary! The allergies settled down. M and I finally managed to get into a schedule. Exercise began to happen. Health began to improve. Life got better again.

December

Regular exercise for M and me. Both of us feel great. Eating healthy and well. Watched Dirty Picture, MI4, Don2. Loved the first, second was meh, puked all over the third. Decided to reward ourselves to a big, beautiful breakfast at Woodstock (our favourite place, hands down) on New Year’s morning for all the hard work we’ve been putting in. We’re dreaming and drooling all the time now :D

Over all, it’s been a year of solitude. Began in silence, ending it alone. Lived alone for the first time in my life. Discovered several things about myself, pulled my socks up and got more responsible. Refreshed and rejuvenated, all set to take on a new year. Bring it on, 2012!

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Life || The Guilt of the Feminine

2011-12-26T19:35:00.006+05:30

One night, I was completely engrossed in something I was writing. M had come home from work a while ago. He’d changed and everything, and then he asked me if I could get him some warm milk. I wanted to, but I was so involved that I couldn’t stop and break the flow of thoughts. I asked him to get it himself. He didn’t mind, but he was lazy so he went to bed.

I kept asking him to go take the milk, I knew he was awake. I must have asked him a dozen times when he replied, “Stop feeling guilty and just write.” I was stunned to realize that he was right. Ever since I’d refused him, a nagging guilt had refused to leave me.

Photo Credit: Mattzor

Do all women feel guilt?

M went on to tell me that he saw this in many women at his workplace, and he felt it was a major deterrent to their careers. Again he was right, I’d also met many women who would cringe and cry coming to work every morning, because they had left their babies wailing at home.

Why do women feel guilt?

I’ve been thinking about this a lot. From my limited understanding, I’ve concocted a theory of sorts.

Do we feel guilt because we’re losing touch with our femininity?

Let’s talk about feminine and masculine. No not as genders, but as qualities. As in, caring, nurturing, supportive, tenderness – feminine. Protecting, bread winning, survival instincts – masculine. This is how I understand it. A man and a woman have both the feminine and the masculine within. Each individual has different dominant characteristics. So a woman may have masculine energy, while a man may have a dominance of the feminine. It’s perfectly all right, that’s not where I’m going.

Perhaps, for those of us who feel guilty, there is a clash of the two qualities or energies or whatever you may call it, within us. Is it possible that while our feminine side beckons us to go and nurture our loved ones, our masculine nature wants us to sweat it out in the field, priding ourselves in our accomplishments?

Which then, brings me to the most important question – is there really point of balance between the two? Or will life just remain a series of events where either the masculine or feminine will dominate, only to average out in the big picture?

When you are committed to your work, whether it is to make a living or just out of passion, and your duty to your family is calling, which route do you take? Not just in the major decisions, but the small, daily ones. Is there a way of attaining perfect balance every single time?

Some would say that men need to take an equal responsibility at home, so everything is shared. I don’t think that’s the solution. Yes of course, they have to. But the chances are, even when the husband is doing the dishes while the wife works on a report, somewhere deep down inside, she actually might be feeling guilt. Maybe that’s because the feminine side of her wants to tell him to go relax while she takes care of him. While the masculine demands that she give her work the very best of her focus and dedication.

So, what is the solution here? Can the perfect balancing act ever be achieved? Has anyone ever done it before? Is guilt really a bad thing to feel? Sure it is unpleasant, but does it serve as a reminder of the things we might need to spend more time on? My theory has left me with more questions than answers.

Photo Credit: wonderferret

My hunch is that there is no universal answer to all these questions. It is highly dependent upon the individual at hand. Perhaps men feel just as guilty as women do, at least we are quite vocal about everything we feel. Maybe we need to stop ourselves and look deeper, reaching the very source of the feeling. The source always makes it much easier to deal with the issue.

Thinking back on my guilt, I think I have this urgent need to become a superwoman. I expect too much of myself, and that’s an understatement. I want to keep the house spotless all the time, all the work done, clothes done, dishes done, cooking – perfect, dressing – immaculate, hair – fantabulous, body – in shape, articles – all written and beautifully at that.

I suppose I must sheepishly admit that I can accomplish all of the above, only if I miraculously gain possession of Hermione Granger’s magic wand. Maybe not even then, Miss. Granger was never good at cooking charms herself, was she?

Photo Credit: Petroleumjelliffe

The answer to my guilty dilemma is quite evident, I need to learn to be easy – on myself and also the women around me. How many times have we mind-criticized the girls around us on their callous dressing, extra pounds, or inability to just get that child to stop crying? I suppose the time has come for women around the world to join hands and agree not to be so hard on each other. To stop judging each other and then feeling bad when we are judged. To stop expecting ourselves to perform the unthinkable. Maybe we just need to let up and let go.

So the next time I catch myself in the middle of a guilt-pang, I will happily remind myself that I am not wonder-woman, I do not have 10 hands, I cannot do everything at once, and that is perfectly okay!

Do you feel guilt? How do you deal with it?

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And the Winner is!

2011-12-22T18:05:00.004+05:30

Heylo ppls! Phew, what a week it's been. Highs and lows, it's been an action-packed seven days. Ever since I announced the giveaway, I've been waiting to write this post, writing it out in my mind hundreds of times each day. Each time, a new way to announce the winner. I know if I don't announce it right away, you're anyway going to scroll down first and see who it is, so go ahead, I won't stop you. :-)

Saw? Came back? Good, now I can talk more. I would like to express my heartfelt gratitude to the people who supported my week-long endeavour. Without you, of course, I would have ended up purchasing the prize for myself. So how thankful I am of your existence in my life, I shall let you know as follows:

Nags - for taking the time out of her vacation, just to participate and spread the word. That was very thoughtful of you, Nags.
Keirthana - whose words have encouraged me quite a bit, I cannot thank her enough. Also a wonderful blogger, I sometimes see her as a little sister.
Sruthi - This girl is almost 10 years younger to me, but I can relate to her blog posts in more ways than one.
Kalpana - One of my oldest readers, she doesn't fail to read a single post of mine. An amazing blogger herself.
Nikhil - The shameless fellow who reads and never comments, but was the first one to comment on the giveaway post. Sweet guy, just got married, congrats buddy!
Vikas - What a photo finish indeed. Entered the contest exactly 45 minutes before it ended. A great blogger himself, comes up with some profound stuff on his blog.
Spiff - An old reader too, an amazing writer, who I am sure is going to be a published author sooner or later.
Ravishankar & AS: Thanks a lot for reading my posts, commenting and taking out the time to participate. Means a lot.

And everyone else who participated, thank you very much!

There are some who couldn't take part, but support my blog nevertheless:

PeeVee - who generously lent me her blog space last week, thank you.
Muthu Kannan - The biggest critic of my work, his feedback is always bang-on, and implement-able.
Phatichar - A new reader, very encouraging and generous with his compliments. Amazing writer of fiction, he is.

And to everyone else who reads, thank you.

And of course, my husband M, who stands behind me in everything I do, perhaps the first person to ever believe in me.

If I've forgotten anyone, which I'm sure I have, I am thankful to you too, please remember that. And before I turn this post any more senti, let me move on.

How I Picked the Winner

I made a list of all the names from the comments on the giveaway post. Yes, I counted the bonus entries twice. Then I put the list in a List Randomizer from Random.org. So everything was nice and mixed up. Then I used the Integer generator to get a random integer. The person corresponding to the random number is the winner.

(Note: Screenshots with accurate timestamps can be provided on request.)

The Winner

Congratulations to Ms.Spaceman Spiff, you are indeed the lucky winner of the Complete Collection of Calvin and Hobbes Boxed Set. Please e-mail your address to me at: sumitra(at)thedailymoo(dot)com. I will promptly order it for you from Flipkart and have it shipped to you. I think the delivery is made in 2-3 business days, or so it says. Please do not die of happiness, I am not responsible if you do.

And please, please send me some good pics of the set when you receive it, so I can lust over it and be jealous of you!

Now all you people, go back up and read the rest of the post.

Once again, thanks a ton to everyone who supported and helped me out. The readers of this blog are the true heroes, taking up everything I dish out and spending their valuable time providing their insights and opinions. The gratitude will remain forever!

Merry Christmas Everybody!

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Excuse me, While I Eat!

2011-12-19T19:09:00.004+05:30

First off, there are three things you must know about me:

A. I have never been thin (like stick thin) in my life.

B. I am a foodie.

C. I have beaten myself up about A and B.

I'm writing to say that I refuse to, anymore. :D

Okay, so now you know what this post is about, let me e-laborate.

I grew up eating a lot of yummy food. My mom is a really good cook, and we went to these social gatherings often where almost all aunties were good cooks. My parents were never the kind to control me while I ate, they took pride in their daughter's healthy appetite (like all parents do).

Photo Credit: Logan (Creative Commons)

Unfortunately for me, my metabolism wasn't able to catch up. Result? FAT! I never really thought much of it myself, until everyone else (read: relatives) started pointing it out explicitly, telling me I needed to lose weight fast. Let me share with you the worst I heard - I was in the seventh class, when I overheard one relative tell another that no man would marry me because of my weight. I wasn't even fat, just a chubby kid. Sad, I tell you, some people are.

So then I started to get guilty about eating. I tried to change, and my mom helped me with it. It was like a yo-yo. I'd control, then lose control, then control again. I'd exercise a bit, then get lazy. Story of my life. There were fruit diets and those no-rice diets, then only boiled vegetable diets, all kinds of stuff. Nothing worked, but only because I couldn't stick to anything for long. I'm a foodie. I need good food.

Then one day, after a bad phase in life, I rose to the occasion. I cut out the rice, I ate only vegetables and proteins, I exercised like there was no tomorrow. I did this for 6 months. I lost a ton of weight. People wanted to know which branch of VLCC I had joined.

The results were nice, I was fitter than I'd ever been, but the no-carb diet had taken it's toll on my body. My hair lost its shine, I felt faint more often and my bowels suffered too. That's when I realized that what I had done was wrong. I could only maintain everything for a couple of years. Then the weight came back on, along with the food.

Photo Credit: Logan (Creative Commons)

The yo-yo was back, trying and failing. I didn't have the energy to go through one more crazy diet again, it just takes up too much. For those of you who are considering, this is how I always felt while eating just fruits or vegetables or eggs:

Faint
Tired
Hungry
Constant head-aches.
Constantly aching for food. I miss my paneer and mushrooms and warm rotis and hot rice and spice powders and everything else!

Too much control leads to too much craving. This was very true in my case. After a lot of thinking, questioning and analyzing about this entire episode with food, I've come to a few conclusions.

I do not need to lose weight to look beautiful, I already am.
I need to only be fit so that if I run up three flights of stairs, I won't be heaving like an angry buffalo.
I should not be trying out eating habits that I cannot follow for the next, say, 10 years.
I will not believe nutritionists.
I will exercise a fixed number of times a week, and take a break when my body needs it.
I should enjoy said exercise, and enjoy challenging my body each day.
I will not measure my weight, or my waist, thighs, arms, neck, cheeks, nose etc.
Last, but not least, I will not feel guilty when I eat!

So I did all that and more. I did not go on a diet. I continue to eat regularly. I started a work out schedule, and did not worry about sticking to it. I just enjoyed it.

Photo Credit: Logan (Creative Commons)

It's been a month now. I don't know how much weight I've lost or how many inches. I don't care. All I know is that I can run up one flight of stairs without panting, and that's something. My clothes fit looser than they used to. I feel energetic and awesome. I'm waiting for the day I can turn those 10 push ups to 20 and 15 dips to 30. Fitness is exciting, when you don't pressure it with too many expectations.

There are a few guidelines that I actually do follow, but it's not that hard.

I avoid eating out. God knows what trash they serve in the name of food. Very rarely, if required.
I cook what I want to eat. Home-cooked Indian food isn't actually all that bad for you.
I stop eating when I'm not hungry. I don't stuff myself when the food is tasty.
I include a lot of variety - a lot. So I don't get bored. You can see me in the store grabbing packets of all kinds of pulses and grains.
Remember the 5 food groups we learned in school - Carbs, Proteins, Vitamins, Minerals, Fats and Water? I have all 5 with every meal.
I take vitamin supplements. It helps a lot to stay energetic. (With doc's permission, of course).
I don't eat junk. No chips, chocolates, ice cream, cakes, bread, butter, jams or any other kind of nonsense. I even gave up baking. And you know what, I don't even feel like, when I have so many options stocked up at home.

I think I'm finally doing something sensible. And I pride myself for it. No, I'm not thin. Yes, people still tell me to go on fruit diets. I smile at them politely. What else can I do? When I see magazines with super-thin models, I remind myself that there's something called Photoshop.

Now excuse me, while I go eat.

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Life || The Practices of the Highly Imaginative Indian Parent

2011-12-16T22:57:00.004+05:30

I read somewhere that Indian parents of the 80s and 90s were an unimaginative breed of people. I politely beg to differ. I don’t know about you folks, but my parents were indeed, highly imaginative members of the human race. So much so, that they constantly indulged in the practices of the greatest minds of all time.

Photo Credit: Harlequeen (Creative Commons)

Writers, artists, leaders, great thinkers, I saw a glimpse of all such figures within my own home, in the very people who brought me into this world. I’ll share with you some of the performances that were commonly staged in my family, me being the victim, er… audience of them all.

Note: Translations to Italicized words are provided at the bottom of the post, in order of appearance.

Analogies

Long before I took the GRE exam, I was quite comfortably aware of and used to the concept of analogies. I did not even have to write down the frequently-asked examples of analogies on flash cards and memorize them. So well did they teach me, with real-life examples, such as:

Badam:Brillance, as Butter:Badam Halwa.

The more, the better! Needless to say, I was regularly fed with soaked and peeled badams (non-fat variety).

Logical Reasoning

Similarly, LR was taught to me at a very young age.

Najiba = III A

Sumitra = III A

Hence Najiba = Sumitra

Najiba = 100/100 in Maths

Najiba = Sumitra

Hence, Sumitra = 100/100 in Maths!

Simple, yet profound.

Lectures

Yes, my parents were quite accomplished when it came to delivering lectures. I would receive one whenever they felt their oration needed some practice.

One of the most popular lectures was titled, ‘Studying children will study anywhere’. This one was rendered particularly in the homes of relatives, family friends, etc. when I was expected to bring a book along to study, while the adults watched TV and chatted. A single complaint about the lack of amenties such as table and chair, lighting, mood, etc. would act as a trigger.

Since my father is Telugu and mom Tamilian, I was subject to dual-language versions. So I was alternately told, “Padikere pasanga enga venalum padipaange,” by one parent and, “Chaduve pillalu ekkadaina chaduvutaru,” by the other. An inspired version would include examples of the likes of Abraham Lincoln who studied under street lights.

Guest-Lectures

For my benefit and the betterment of my general up-bringing, my parents routinely invited their own parents, siblings and closest friends to provide the much needed guest lectures. Some of the whackiest ones were given by my Grandma, whose words I still cannot forget.

My beloved Paati wasted no time in telling me that I would grow up to be like Kanthamma, our maid, if I did not study. “See Kantham, she cannot read or write. Unaku kooda ade gadi thaan, if you don’t study. You will have to wear torn sarees given by others and wash dishes for a living.”

Quotable Quotes

Russell Peters was not kidding when he quoted his dad, “Somebody gonna get a hurt real bad.” This was routinely chanted in my house too.

Again, I got multi-lingual versions of this. “Yaaro nalla adi vaanga poranage ippo” by mom, and “Evvaro baaga thannulu tintaaru ippiudu,” by dad. Unlike Russell, I always knew it was me. No siblings, you see.

Another quote that got thrown around a lot was the one about the well. As in:

“Dad can I go to the sleep-over?”

“No”

“All my friends are going”

“If all your friends jump in the well, would you too?”

“K”

Memoirs

As all great personalities, my parents also narrated fond memories of their childhood experiences. Of course, these narratives always included a lesson, something for me to learn.

“What? Raise in pocket-money-aa? When I was a boy, I took the five annas my father gave me and saved it by walking five miles to the school in the next town. Children these days…” <Head bent and shaking>

“Inda kaalathu pasangalukku bhayame illama pochu. Naanga chinnapo we were so scared of our parents. Why, even now, at this age also I am scared of my mother.”

Inception

Ahh yes, the concept of planting an idea was discovered by my parents long before Christopher Nolan. In fact, multiple dream/idea planting sessions were conducted frequently, and I did not even have to be asleep for them. Example of a common post-lunch scenario:

Dad (Looking up from Newspaper): Sumi, what to you want to become when you grow up?

Me (Looking up from Hardy Boys): Umm…

Mom (Running in from the kitchen, Beaming): When she was born itself, I told Amma. Our daughter will become a doctor. First in the family.

Dad: You know, Mr. Verma’s son has gone to America to study his masters. One day…

Mom (Dreamy-eyed): I always wanted to learn the Veena when I was younger. Alas, my parents could not afford. But our Sumi…

Recitals

Yes, I was required to recite several things as a child. Multiplication tables were one of them. When I was in the second grade, my mother took it upon herself to permanently imprint my mind with tables. So she mysteriously procured audio tapes of ‘tables-songs’ that promplty replaced the Suprabhatam. Paavam, M.S. never knew that ‘times-two tables’ were actually her greatest competitor. Every morning, I had to listen and sing-along, accompanied with the correct taalam.

Rituals

Several rituals that mirrored the lifestyles of the accomplished were religiously followed in my household. The one I remember most vividly is the summer ritual of ‘Five Words’. This practice required me to read 2-3 articles in the editorial section of the newspaper every day of my summer vacation. I had to underline five difficult words, look up their meanings in the dictionary, and copy them down into my notebook.

As my laziness grew with age, I was pardoned, and the ritual was reduced to ‘Two Words’.

Newtonianism

This was perhaps, the most brilliant of my parent’s accomplishments. They were firm believers in the third law of motion propsed and proved by Sir Isaac Newton.

Every action, indeed, had an equal and opposite reaction in my house. Like if I told a bad word, my face would immediately be plastered with a slap. If I did not come home from playing immediately when my mother called me, the front door would promptly be locked. If I behaved badly in public, a tiny, discreet, yet painful pinch would follow on the underside of my arm, when no one was looking.

If you grew up in the 80s and 90s and cannot relate to anything I’ve written, I am sorry to inform you that your parents were quite unimaginative, as my reading-source states.

Translations:

Badam - Almond

Badam Halwa - Gooey, Yummy, Almond sweet

Padikere pasanga enga venalum padipaange/Chaduve pillalu ekkadaina chaduvutaru - Studying children will study anywhere

Paati - Grandmother

Unaku kooda ade gadi thaan - You too will suffer the same fate

Yaaro nalla adi vaanga poranage ippo/Evvaro baaga thannulu tintaaru ippiudu - Somebody gonna get a hurt real bad

Annas - old Indian currency

Inda kaalathu pasangalukku bhayame illama pochu - These days kids have no fear

Naanga chinnapo - When we were kids

Amma - Mother

Suprabhatam - A religious chant to be heard at the crack of dawn.

Paavam - Poor thing

Taalam - Way of keeping track of rhythm in Indian Classical Music

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The Blog is Ready, and so is the Surprise (Free Calvin&Hobbes Giveaway!)

2011-12-14T20:10:00.007+05:30

Update: And The Winner Is!

A while ago, I announced on my blog that I was going to give it a makeover. And now it’s ready! I love the way it’s turned out, I hope you do too! Let me know what you think of it.

I’d also said that a there would be a surprise announcement at the end of the makeover project. And now, the time has finally arrived. I’m honestly very excited about this. I’ve thought and thought about the right words to use while announcing the surprise, but I guess I’ll just go ahead and say it.

Keeping with the spirit of the holiday season, and also the fact that I love giving gifts, I’ve decided to do my very first GIVEAWAY!!

After much deliberation, I’ve decided on giving away something that I think most people would want to have. It’s exciting, it’s fun, it’s the best gift that anyone could ever give me!

And the gift is....

Drumroll…

THE COMPLETE CALVIN AND HOBBES 3 VOLUME BOXED SET!!!!!!!!

I love Calvin and Hobbes! Who doesn’t, right? Hmm, a small voice is now telling me to cancel the Giveaway and buy the set for myself. So before I change my mind, let me provide you with all the information.

I want to win! How do I participate?

You need to do two simple things to be eligible for this Giveaway:

Follow this blog in any one of these ways:

Follow on Facebook, here
Follow on Twitter, here
Follow on Google Plus, here
Follow via Blogger
Subscribe via RSS, here or Email, here.

Leave a comment on this post, stating:

In one line, what you like best about reading blogs.
Your profile ID, using which you followed or subscribed to this blog (for ease of verification and to keep things fair).

That's it! As simple as that.

Can I get a Bonus Entry?

Yes, you can! To improve your chances of winning the Calvin and Hobbes Boxed Set, all you need to do is promote this giveaway. Blog about it, tweet it or share it on FB, or any other way that works for you. Leave me a second comment with the link and your entry will be counted twice!

How will the winners be selected?

The selection process will be completely random and based on a lucky-draw, using Random.org. Please note that I will not be replying to any comments on this post, to keep the number of comments intact.

When does the Giveaway close?

The Giveaway is open until midnight, 21^st of December, Indian Standard Time. The winner will be announced on the 22^nd of December.

Are there any additional rules?

Yes. Here they are:

Only one entry per person. Multiple entries will be discarded, unless you are eligible for the bonus entry.
The giveaway is open to residents of India. I will be purchasing the boxed set through Flipkart and have it shipped to the address of the winner. People living outside can participate too, if you know a friend or relative in India to receive the prize for you.
Members of my family are not eligible to participate.

So, that's my very first giveaway. Hopefully there will be more to follow. Keep reading! All the best to all the participants.

Books || What I Talk About When I Talk About Running ~ Haruki Murakami

2011-12-12T22:16:00.002+05:30

If you are a runner, or hope to take up running sometime in your life, you must read this book. If you are a writer, or hope to become one, you must read this book. If you plan to do neither, you must still, read this book.

What I Talk About When I Talk About Running is a memoir, by Haruki Murakami, a Japanese writer.

Photo Credit: Upton (Creative Commons)

Humble.

This is the word that best describes Murakami. The manner in which he describes how he sold his jazz bar to take up writing, and eventually running, makes you feel like he did nothing big or great, and yet he did. The book made me feel thankful and hopeful that there are still such people in this world.

The man is in his 60s now, he was in his late 50s when he wrote the book. He took up marathon running in the later part of his life, middle-age. The way he’s trained his body to adapt to such a rigourous lifestyle is simply amazing.

The book could inspire you to run. Write too, perhaps. But more importantly, it opens you to a certain way of life, a certain attitude towards it. Like this, for instance:

My time, the rank I attain, my outward appearance - all of these are secondary. For a runner like me, what's really important is reaching the goal I set myself, under my own power. I give it everything I have, endure what needs enduring, and am able, in my own way, to be satisfied. From out of the failures and joys I always try to come away having grasped a concrete lesson. (It's got to be concrete, no matter how small it is.) And I hope that, over time, as one race follows another, in the end I'll reach a place I'm content with. Or maybe just catch a glimpse of it. (Yes, that's a more appropriate way of putting it.)

He talks at length about his experiences with running, participating in different marathons, losing the passion to run, and then gaining it all back again. Of his reasons for taking up running, he writes:

People sometimes sneer at those who run every day, claiming they'll go to any length to live longer. But don't think that's the reason most people run. Most runners run not because they want to live longer, but because they want to live life to the fullest. If you're going to while away the years, it's far better to live them with clear goals and fully alive than in a fog, and I believe running helps you do that. Exerting yourself to the fullest within your individual limits: that's the essence of running, and a metaphor for life - and for me, for writing as a whole. I believe many runners would agree.

He also talks a lot about his writing.

Writing novels, to me, is basically a kind of manual labor. Writing itself is mental labor, but finishing an entire book is closer to manual labor. It doesn't involve heavy lifting, running fast or leaping high. Most people, though, only see the surface reality of writing and think of writers as involved in quiet, intellectual work done in their study. If you have the strength to lift a coffee cup, they figure, you can write a novel. But once you try your hand at it, you soon find that it isn't as peaceful a job as it seems.

Murakami says that he writes one word at a time. Like he runs, one step at a time. And that’s all it takes.

The beauty of the book is that there is something quotable in almost every page. But this is the one that stuck with me the most:

Pain is inevitable, suffering is optional.

Try it!

Purchase from Flipkart: here

Purchase from Amazon: here

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Life || The Lake Where No One Lives

2011-12-09T00:17:00.004+05:30

Have you ever wished to get away to a place where there is not a living soul, miles and miles around you? Have you wished for silence so profound, that it engulfs your entire being like a black hole?

If you haven’t then you must. Consider it, at least. It’s a life-healing experience. I’ll talk about mine today.

I was around 16 when I first thought of visiting Kailash. The mountain in Tibet, in case you are hearing of it for the first time. I used to sit with my eyes closed every now and then, to get away from the stresses of preparing for exams. One day, I saw snow, some peaks. I imagined it was Kailash. I knew I had to go there someday.

Img Credit: Isha Foundation

That ‘someday’ came sooner than I expected. I thought I would go when I was much older. But when the opportunity presented itself, I decided it had to be taken. I convinced M, everything fell into place. We went last year.

All the time I was thinking of Kailash. Lake Manasarovar was on the itinerary, but I never paid much attention to it. A woman on the flight to Nepal asked me if I was going to take a dip in the lake. I told her that I had no idea. Kailash, and the moment I would lay my eyes on that peak was all I could think of. My dream was coming true.

The lake is on the way to the mountain. The drive was tiring. I was all weary, dozing off, sick from the high altitude. When someone said the word Manasarovar, I opened my eyes. What met them was something that I will try, but find it very hard to explain.

Img Credit: Isha Foundation

Untouched. This was the first word that came to my mind. And then all words stopped. The camera was forgotten. Everything was forgotten. There was a silence like silence was never felt before. It felt like I was at the very top of the world, at the highest point possible, although this is geographically untrue. It was a place that humans had not yet managed to encroach, to conquer, to spoil. A place where man was still at nature’s mercy, having to defecate in the open, camp out in tents, helpless when the rain water flooded in.

There was a Sathsang that evening. Stories were told, of the significance of the Lake. Of the supernatural beings that inhabited the place, beings from a different world. The beings that accompanied Lord Shiva. They might have been true, or not, but I wasn’t interested in them. This was not a time for speculation, not for me at least. It was a time to look around in wonder, absorbing like a sponge, at everything the place had to offer.

Img Credit: Isha Foundation

We were asked not to approach the lake at all until the following morning, after a meditation process would enable us to withstand the cold waters. We were asked to stay away especially after dark, for our own safety. The obedient people that we are, M and I complied with the instructions. We stayed in the tent all night. Rain was beating down heavily, steadily. Wild dogs started to howl at around 3 AM. I thought I heard a several female voices at once, but I couldn’t tell with the sound of the rain. It was not a comfortable night.

We were up the next morning at 6. The process started at the lake shore, where everyone gathered at around 7. It was still pitch dark. A light, persistent drizzle continued. We were offered a sort of liquid that we needed to apply on the very top of our heads. When I did, I felt an instant heat course through my body, a sudden surge of energy. A few pranayam exercises and chants later, we were ready to get into the lake.

Img Credit: Isha Foundation

It is said that dipping in the waters of Lake Manasarovar will cleanse you of all your sins. But this was not on my mind. Again, oddly, nothing was on my mind. Before I got into the lake, all the layers had to come off, the thermals, the jackets, socks, hats, gloves, everything. All I had on finally were a flimsy kurta and pyjama. By the time I was ready, almost everyone was done bathing. It was just me and another girl. We approached the lake holding hands. I did not know what the temperature was, nor what to expect.

When I first set foot in the waters, I did not feel the cold. I felt pain. From no pain, to pain. Just like that. And it only increased as we went further in. When the water reached our knees, it was as deep as we could go. It was time to take a dip.

My heart was pounding, in a way that told me I might not come out if I went in. My courage was faltering. The other girl went in first. Inspired, I did too. As I dunked and came out, the coldest I have ever been in my life, I began to cry. No, not from the pain. It was from the devotion that coursed through my entire being. I was broken, defeated. Nature had showed me where my place was, what it could do to me. I had no choice but to bow down. Internally and externally. To what, I don’t know. But I had to bow down, I felt nothing but reverence.

Perhaps that is what it feels like to be washed away of all sins. I dunked twice more.

The walk back to the tent was even more excruciating. I could barely walk, I thought my feet would be dead forever. Invisible teeth were biting away at them, there was no way I could ever recover from this state, I felt.

It took M and me over an hour inside the tent to get back to normal. As the countless layers went back on, in silence, the only sound that of clattering teeth, we sat it out, finally regaining the proper use of our limbs.

The meals tent was buzzing with activity when we went in for breakfast. Several small groups were formed, people recounting their experiences animatedly. M hung back, always the silent one, and I wandered from group to group, listening to different tales.

One particular group of people were talking softly, barely in a whisper. When I approached them, contrary to my expectations, they included me in their conversation. I learned from them of something that had taken place the night before.

A few people had apparently decided to disregard the rules and go to the lake at midnight. They had heard stories back home that this was the time when the supernatural beings came out in the open, so they wanted a glimpse at any cost. Perhaps to be able to have some interesting stories to tell.

Full of excitement, they ventured out, spotting nothing for a while. (Solving the mystery of the female voices for me). And then, one of the ladies told me, they saw something far away that was shaped like a star, zip out of the sky and into the water. That’s all they saw. As if on cue, one of the men in the group fainted. They had to drag him back to the tent.

This guy was still feeling faint in the morning and couldn’t make it to the process and the dip in the lake. Needless to say, their little expedition was found out and they had received a reprimand of sorts.

Img Credit: Isha Foundation

Later that day the sun was shining and people were hanging their clothes to dry over the tents. M went to take a nap. My lake-dip companion and I headed for the shore once more and sat there for a long time. Maybe an hour, maybe more. There was no one to disturb us, literally.

I stared and stared. At the lake, at the mountains, at the lake some more. Then I closed my eyes for a while. I felt like something was changing, shifting inside of me. Like I was letting go of things, healing. I experienced a clarity like never before. Rejuvenation is a small word, compared to what was happening to me.

The journey to Kailash continued the next day. But that’s another story.

The experience has touched me in more ways than one. The most significant change in me is that the hankering after material wellbeing has reduced. Wealth and comforts are a little less important than they used to be, there are other things that matter more.

A journey of this nature, to any place in the world, is perhaps what is known as a pilgrimage. It is a necessity for every human being.

Do you have any similar experiences to share? Is there a place like this you dream of visiting someday?

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Fiction || "She" ~ A Short Story

2011-12-03T23:51:00.005+05:30

My second short story :-)

She’s falling in love with him. Everything about him. His hair, his face, the sound of his voice, the way he looks at her. As they speak, she begins to realize that he looks familiar. She’s met him before, spoken to him. A sense of guilt, of betrayal lingers at the back of her mind as they converse. She’s cheating on someone. Who? Her lover. And then it hits her. She’s been in love with another man… the same man. They are two different people, but also the same. She’s leaving him for him. It doesn’t make sense. Yet, it does.

She wonders how she’s going to explain it to him, when a song starts to play in the background. Kahin door jab din dhal jaye… an evening song. Situations melt, like she’s coming out of water. She opens her eyes slowly, pushing back heavy eyelids with some effort. The song is now playing from her mobile, it’s her alarm. She checks the time. It’s the crack of dawn.

She moves her body over to the unslept parts of the bed, as she does every morning. She loves the feeling of the cool sheets under her skin. They relax her, help her sleep a little more before she needs to be up. She stretches out her hand, again out of habit, searching for human contact. Oddly, she finds none. She opens her eyes once more, he is absent. She looks around carefully. It’s a different bed, in a different room.

Pots are clanging far away. Someone has put on a tape of Suprabhatam. It’s only now that she’s fully awake, as the realization sinks in. As it all comes back to her. The dream. And reality. She wasn’t the one who cheated, the one who left…

She gets out of bed, tired, oddly blank. A shower ought to get things going, she thinks. The water is tepid. It irritates her. She needs her showers steaming hot or freezing cold. She needs the water to jolt her senses, shock her awake. Lukewarm water hardly amounts to anything. She is unable to adjust the valves the right way, the way he always did for her.

She’s all dressed now, ready to go. Except, she has nowhere to go. She follows her routine out of habit, although it’s been a month since she’s been to work. She couldn’t face them any more, the questions, the humiliation. She had to quit. She’s at the table, her mom serves her breakfast. They eat in silence. They don’t bother her at home, and she’s thankful for that.

She gets into her old car, bangs the door shut. It takes her a minute to figure out what to do. It’s been long since she’s driven this car. She thinks of it as an old friend. From a time before she knew him, before he even existed for her. She catches a glimpse of the back seat through the rear view. There’s a flash of memories, of old times, happy times.

She drives around aimlessly. It calms her, being on the go. Just going, somewhere, anywhere. It doesn’t matter where. She doesn’t want to stop. Stillness is bitter, too bitter. She must keep going.

She drives past his house. His new home, where he now lives with her. The proverbial other woman. The vamp. She burns with silent embarassment. Yet, she can’t help it. That he had the audacity to live so close by, that she had to pass by where he lived every single day, that she had been so devastatingly wrong in her judgement of him, she just couldn’t get her head around these things.

And so, she drives on. And on. It isn't until late in the afternoon that she returns. She gets out of the car and walks toward the gate. Her mother is speaking to a woman in the neighbourhood. She stops for a second in her tracks, unsure of what to do. Taking a deep breath, she braces herself and continues to move forward. “Just to the gate,” she tells herself. “Just make it to the gate. One step at a time.”

The lady looks at her and smiles kindly, widely. “Hello beta, how are you? How is your husband doing?”

Her breath is caught in her throat. A brief look of panic flashes in her mother’s eyes. She knows what she has to say, it was rehearsed several times before. And yet, each time, the question caught them off guard. A few seconds pass. The lady looks confused. Her mother starts to offer an explanation.

“I’m divorced,” she blurts out.

Her mother gasps loudly. The lady stares.

“It’s okay mom,” she tells her mother, holding hands. “I’m divorced aunty. My husband left me for another woman. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go take a shower. Nice to see you. Bye.”

She turns around and goes straight up the stairs without a single backward glance. She sits on her bed, wide-eyed, un-moving. It shocks her too, what she has done. And yet, it is oddly liberating.

“I’m divorced,” she repeats. “My husband left me for another woman.”

“I’m divorced, and my husband left me for another woman. Hi, there! I’m divorced. My husband left me for another woman.”

She says it, over and over, and over again. She says it with a smile, she says it with a frown. Each time she says it, it sounds more real, she is able to believe it. And then she throws her head back and laughs. Loud and long. Like she used to.

She picks up her mobile, calls her best girlfriends. She asks them out to dinner and plans are quickly made. Yes, it feels like old times, all right. She would dress up again. For her girls, for herself.

She steps into the shower. This time the water is just right.

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Books || Stephen King ~ On Writing

2011-11-28T19:14:00.006+05:30

A few months ago, I made a list of the things I enjoy doing, deciding to spend time doing each of these. Writing was on that list.

In an effort to understand writing better, I attended a Sunday workshop on creative writing. As it turned out, I didn't end up learning anything great over there. What did happen however, was that as I was participating in the various writing exercises, I realized how easily words came to me. And how they never stopped.

I decided to spend more time pursuing the art of writing. I got regular on my blog. I opened up Word docs at random and started to type. Suddenly, I was surrounded by diaries and notepads, scribbling away furiously. Read-able or not, writing is the one thing that absorbs me completely, holds my attention, as long as it pleases. My muse can have me, take me away, anytime, anywhere. Its wish is my command.

Anyway, there are two books I read that further inspired me to take my writing seriously. And, I'd like to talk about one of them today. It's written by Stephen King, and it's called ON WRITING.

The best thing that happened to me after I read this book was that I started to believe that I could write too. Earlier, when I read great and wonderful books, I used to wish I could write like that too, but I thought I never could. Mr. King reconfirmed that for me. Through his book he told me, of course, I could never write like that. But I could write like only I could. I could tell the stories that only I could tell, through my perceptions, that are unique to me. It was encouraging. I began to write more.

King puts forth his theory about the different kinds writers there are. This has stayed with me, and I think about it almost everyday. He says the four different kinds of writers are: Bad Writer, Competent Writer, Good Writer and Great Writer.

The interesting part is this: according to King, a bad writer can never become a competent one, and a good writer can never become a great one. But a competent writer can certainly hope, aspire and work towards becoming a good one. I have somehow taken the liberty to assume myself a competent writer, and spend every day of my life trying to become a good one. I hope I shall succeed some day.

I would say that this book is a must-read for anyone hoping to take up writing at some point in their lives. Even if you don't, the book is still an interesting read. Try it!

You can purchase the book here, or here.

I'll leave you with a quote from the book:

"Stopping a piece of work just because it's hard, either emotionally or imaginatively, is a bad idea. Sometimes you have to go on when you don't feel like it, and sometimes you're doing good work when it feels like all you're managing is to shovel shit from a sitting position."

Do you know of any inspiring books on writing? Please do share!

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Kolaveri Veri!

2011-11-27T01:03:00.000+05:30

Ha!

(Note: Flicked this off FB. Original cartoon seems to be from here: http://paultoon.com/more-angry-birds-vector-drawings-trouble-for
Oh, and please excuse the cows. They're just Moo-ing around for a while!)

Blog Under Maintenance.

2011-11-23T19:26:00.000+05:30

Apologies to you if the sudden changes have shocked you. I am in the process of re-designing my blog. And I'm doing it myself from scratch! :D So it's going to take a while. No, I'm not taking a break from writing. Posts will be up as usual, no respite for you from those, I'm afraid. But odd things may pop up every once in a while and disappear mysteriously.

To the few people who read my blog regularly and are kind enough to read this post, I will let you in on a secret. When my blog is ready in its new avatar, there will be a surprise to go along with it! Yippee! I love surprises, don't you?

Hope I get around to completing this pretty soon!