Wish List

ü  To walk on the sands of the cleanest beach in the world. The one where water is in sky blue colour. To touch mother earth’s creation. Feel it…Pants unaffected.

ü  To feel snow…Make a big ball. A neat one that will complete ‘Santa in Snow’.

ü  To eat, the most professionally barbecued chicken in the world.

ü  See Rome. For I have heard it’s the oldest and the most wonderful. History at its best. And, remember to salute Julius Caesar.

ü  To feel breeze, while on a Verna.

ü  Sleep with the most comfortable bed sheet on… To turn back and forth without any fear and thought. 

ü  See a Mosquito “No No” world.

ü  To love Mynas, parrots and Penguins. But “No No” to dogs. Because Gorillas in cage are better than Dogs in Streets.

ü  To step into a glass house… If at all there is one in this world.

ü  To tell Harry, for all the joy he brought in and his super Wizard and Sorcery drama. To Rolling – For super imagination.

ü  To see Sherlock Homes – And say he is a real hero… And pass it on to the Master storyteller – Doyle.

ü  To steal some powers from Indira Gandhi – “The Woman”.

ü  To reach the borders of America and write to Obama that America needs no definition. Because America is any day equivalent to “A beautiful dream”. But to love India – As that’s where I belong to!!!

 

To always love…

Be loved…

To remain best friend – for those who matter.

 

The Sunset

Picture somebody dead being moved in a decorated cart. The journey is going to be pretty long. Extending to Hundred…Thousand miles. With them they take away memories of countless days, nights and years in closed lockers. Will they remember us when they are gone? Is the closed locker opened now and then to show them what it was when they lived on earth? How is it for them there? I do not wish to discriminate that the good head to heaven and bad to hell but I do believe that they head to this hallow. A hallow which is the home for the dead. According to me, it’s the new home where all the dead in a family reunite forever. My grandma and grandpa should be there. United.

Awestruck I’m when I tend to remember certain things. They gave me a home. A home many children miss today. If I look through the old photographs I realize how fortunate, I was to have enjoyed a childhood that most children today are denied. A home to go to, every weekend, and every vacation fitted in so well as a child. That home in Keeladi (my grandparent’s home) gave me love, tears, games, sweat and the food, I can’t forget. If I could think back, I can still remember how it felt to dig that mud to build a hut (We were satisfied with huts, never even dreamt of castles). Then dig deep into drainage and look for mango seeds (The combination is of course, weird). I cherish visiting temples, bare foot…feeling the heat. I can still hear voices of child play, running, jumping and screaming. Dirty clothes changed at last for a good meal and sleep. These are experiences that make your life wholesome…glad I had a share of that in my early days – A memorable childhood.

When we’re young, we do not realize what it means to be a part of a home. A home whether you like it or not binds you as a family. A home that made you look forward to vacations and weekends. A grandma who touches your chin and smiles, a grandpa who gives a curt nod when you convey your greetings and most important it gets impossible to imagine that you ever lived in a home that was never locked!

My grandparents live in hallow these days. I’ve convinced myself that a portion of their soul lives in hallow whereas the other portion lives in a photograph in my bedroom. That photograph is important to me because I captured it, years ago and both of them were looking at ME and ME alone when I took it. So obviously, I was in their mind that second, so the charm kind of works well with me.

The remarkable thing there is that they never advised me of anything other than to eat on time and take care of my health. But there is lots they have conveyed through actions, their way of life and most important the respect that they truly deserved from people around. They have set their hearts on the greater gifts. They have chosen the path which surpasses all others. The path of love, the path seeks to nurture, the path that always heals. I realized it was their strong commitment to love and all of its qualities of patience, of its desire to seek to understand before being understood, to rejoice in truth, combined with their unwavering devotion and faith to God that had been the secret to their success.

Most of all a well organized life.

The home is still there, in the same village. But I’m sure as the true masters rest…the original warmth is lost. Only memories shall dwell in all those hearts that love them.

It’s like my grandma mixed up this magic potion which she had stumbled upon, many many years ago in order to build a “home” that seems to elude the most. A home, a shadow that is gone now.

I never knew that a sunset could hurt so much…

I often wonder about this

I often wonder about this

Snow is rare!

Have you played in snow? Do you know how it feels on a cold wintery morning? I’m asking you this, because I don’t know much about it. Chennai is never really cold.
Years ago, we lived in Hapur, Gaziyabad district, Uttarpradesh. I was 5 then. It was winter, there was plenty of rain. The rain drops were super cool and the result was a glaze.
So, what is glaze?

Freezing rain is the name given to rain that falls when surface temperatures are below freezing. The raindrops become super cooled while passing through a sub-freezing layer of air, many hundred feet (or meters), just above the surface, and then freeze upon impact with any object they encounter. The resulting ice, called glaze, can accumulate to a thickness of several centimetres.

Courtesy: Wikipedia

I have seen and experienced glaze. I remember touching the ice that fell down in the open space beside my home in Hapur. The chill and shiver are still live in my memory. That was the last I saw something close to snow. Nature is a gift to man, isn’t it?
The snow, the glaziers, the mountains, the wonderful rivers, the sea and many more are little bundles of gift from nature. The science behind Nature fascinates me. How creative is God? How much thought would have gone into creating this beautiful world?
…And how easily we ruin it.

Those Cinderella shoes

I was so upset the other day, pissed with a person who would no longer be a friend. So irritated was I that I decided to do something that would cheer me up.

So, I went shopping.

I went to Bata showroom, in Mylapore, Chennai. I scanned the shop and found this pair of shoes. It’s white, plastic finish with a jazzy bow on it. I named it Cinderella shoes. On a day, when my mood is just fine I wouldn’t pick it up because I hardly wear anything that is showy and noticeable. But that day I picked it up.

I tried it and kept looking at myself in the showroom’s mirror. I loved them on my foot. Of course, I bought it. Not 1 but 2!

But, why???

I still wonder. I felt the urge to buy it. It pleased me, amused me and made me feel different.
One pair is safe in my cupboard. The other is displayed in my living room. I wear it, look at myself in the mirror and then take it off. Is there a psychology behind this kind of activity? Are all women like this?

I don’t know, but when the white Cinderella shoes glitters in the dark, I just smile.

My Grandma… Amachi

Our South Indian culture doesn't allow one to deliver eulogy during a Funeral. Hence I take this opportunity to say how special my Amachi (Grandma) is.

I stand here today to remember this great soul for her strengths, achievements and contribution to others. It was quite hard for all of us to witness the painful process of aging that she patiently challenged. Ageing couldn't rob her of vitality and clarity even in those last few days.

 I choose to talk about her as she has been there always to love us. I have been fortunate to grow up in this shadow, that her absence creates the deepest vacuum in me. Her story is an amazing one that should remind us all of how lucky we are today and instruct us in how to face and overcome the unpredictable ways that life deals.
When I think about Amachi's life and try to understand her contribution to the family and village, I realize that she was a person deeply committed to the welfare of others.

She has been selfless in her love towards every single person who sorts her assistance. In my early years, I knew her simply as a woman who loved me and would treat me with kindness during my visits to Keeladi (A small village in outskirts of Madurai, Tamilnadu). I remember that each visit had helped me grow up, learn a lot and get accustomed to life itself. I will never forget all the trips to the fields with my beloved Thatha (grandfather), shopping with a tiny list to the local shops, the continuous food onslaught and the community of village friends that my cousins and I developed during those days.

She was a remarkably non-judgmental individual and had few preconceived ideas of how one should live their life. Her famous saying, "Saptiah (Did you eat), pall kudi (drink milk)" keep ringing in my ears. She showed me how to sew on buttons and taught me chain stitch. My stitches weren't as neat and tiny as hers, but she was very proud of my accomplishment when I stitched my first sunflower. There are so many memories - I can't possibly write them all.

The best about her was she always communicated a willingness to accept the fact that changes occurring in the world during her life would likely lead her grandchildren down a different path than the one she had chosen. I always felt totally supported by Amachi and knew that she would judge my progress based upon my personal happiness rather than by comparing it to the choices she had made. I have to say that she was a voracious reader who hardly got an opportunity to step into school. But I am yet to meet someone like her who is so worldly in thoughts and action. She is an inspiration to millions in the world who struggle to go to school. My Amachi's life tells me that School is essentially not the place to be educated. Self learning is a key to her success.

I always knew for sure that Amachi meant a lot to me. She had been that strength I had leaned and now I clearly know how fortunate I am to have grandparents who knew only to love and care.

I love her because she taught me how to love. She has never kissed me or hugged me… but has always blessed me.  I remember her touching my chin when she sees me enter her home. It brings tears in my eyes when I think of this wonderful human being who has been for ever true to the people she belonged to. Her trust in God and the last spiritual journey to eternity is the most honorable death one could experience.

I want to remember Amachi's legacy as one of compassion, selflessness, commitment to others and unconditional love. That is how she touched me and this is how we shall describe her to the next generation. When asked, I will always say that Amachi was truly a great woman who has dealt unthinkable challenges and have lived a sacrificed life. I sometimes want to say "Thank you", hope she hears.

61 Years of married life. Her devotion towards Thatha whom she serviced with so much love shall ever be remembered by me. As I have personally witnessed many moments of such devotion. One wouldn't have seen a huge crowd during her funeral but I am sure that her death moved many…Every tear that was shed during her demise prove how she dwelled in our hearts.

I close my eyes I can still hear "lalu" the way she calls me. She could have been there for some more time, is all that I keep telling myself. It is disturbing to sink in the fact that she isn't there anymore…


But I am sure she still lives there…or rather I want to believe that she is still there. 

THE RENOVATED GUESTHOUSE

THE RENOVATED GUESTHOUSE

(A tribute to THE home…)

I happened to see this video on my maternal grandparent’s home. The video had been taken soon after the death of my grandmother. It’s a huge house made of bricks, wood, iron and concrete. Any house transforms itself to a home truly because of the people who live there.

As the video camera captured every single spot in that huge house, it was time for me to come to terms with reality. I think it was also important for me to see where the house I struggled to walk with those tiny legs, at the age of 2 has changed many folds.  Nothing against the current inhabitants but I would definitely blame the cruel game time plays with us.  Time is destined to bring in change. That change had been cruel. As the video camera continued to move from one location to the other, I’m forced to sit back and think.

My grandparent’s home stands in the middle of an acre of land. It used to be surrounded by trees of all kinds. A couple of trees stood in a row in front of the house. You could see cows, their calves and buffalos tied strongly to each tree. As a child I would go slowly near one of the cows and then when the cow is about to turn I would run as fast as I can. My thatha (grandpa) who sits in the verandah reading his newspaper will look up and caution me to be careful. The fear for my protection and the care he had for me came with much force in his voice. I have to insist that the care and love was the same till the very end.

Grandpa used to sit in a big and comfortable cane chair in the central verandah of our home. He wore white dhoti and white cotton jipa (Similar to a shirt). He read the newspaper one after the other and was a very serious man by nature. Besides his chair their used to be smaller cane chairs around him which was for the visitors who frequented the place. That cane chair is gone and now stands a fish tank there. The central verandah hardly has any permanent chairs there. Maybe visitors aren’t encouraged! You never know, every action can build in umpteen different meanings. No sarcasm intended, I swear!

As you enter the house there is a huge living room. During grandpa’s days the living room had a small black and white television. Later he got a color TV. As the TV is switched on, you will see half the village children slowly walk into the house to watch Doordarshan. If grandpa is not in good mood he would slightly raise his voice and these children will run away. But if he is good tempered, the children get to see good old DD. There had been times when my sister, cousins and I used to sit in the comfortable sofas next to thatha and patiently wait for the DD screensaver to vanish! Then the DD music and so on…



Room after room it wasn’t the same. The age old kitchen had become a mini room. Grandpa’s room which was called office room earlier had become study room. The famous Janatha room where the women of the house had their tailoring machines and the girls had their dolls changed to a kitchen. The car shed is more or less an attic room. Rooms upstairs didn’t go through much change because it always belonged to the current inhabitants (The future heirs).

The home had a well and a cowshed. Time ensured that they vanish. I still remember the days when I used to throw banana peel for the cow. As child you would be scared to go near the cow and feed it. That was grandpa’s method of feeding the cows.

These can be rightfully called the ‘bygone days’. Gone are those days when grandma’s cook made food for the whole village and made variety of evening snacks for all. Food was available 24/ 7. Now the concept of 24/7 is applied only in multinational corporates. 

As I follow the camera I could feel that the past had love in many forms. A grandma who touched your chin when you entered her home, a grandpa who always wanted to know If you had your food on time, aunts and uncles who gave you that sweet smile. I remembered the loud chattering and laughter that came from all the different rooms when you enter. That love and touch is lost or maybe reserved for the few.

Family feuds restrict many to enter that home now. But anyway even if you go, what do you get to see? Photographs of your dead grandparents remind you of all that has been lost in one flash. The ambience and the atmosphere scream at you that it’s not your home anymore. It reminds you that your childhood is now a memory and all the genuine love is lost when amachi and thatha finally rested.  

As I was getting used to the cruel change, I realized that, the video was finally over. A friend of mine peeped in and looked at the video.

She said “Wow! That’s a beautiful guesthouse.”

I didn’t retort and didn’t even explain it to her that the house there was once a home to many. In fact for many years, as a child I used to think that the house was a palace and my grandpa was a rich king. I silently looked at her and I’m sure she noticed the tears in my eyes.

A legendary home which has seen nearly 5 generations is a temple. Any legendary temple loses its value the very minute, any connection to past is wiped out. Memories are there to be preserved. Complete renovation of any kind to legendary homes, disturb and hurt memories. 

Oops… I think you noticed the INTENDED sarcasm?