Feel The Breeze In Ur Hair

Not Me….

noreply@blogger.com (Shree) — Thu, 28 Jan 2010 12:01:00 +0000

It is not me anymore….

Days are gone, I know

Ideas were a blessing in disguise, a boon.

Days are here, I know

Hints are a badger.

Days will come, I know

Proffers no more sprout….

It is not me anymore.

I was Him… The Kite Runner

noreply@blogger.com (Shree) — Tue, 05 Jan 2010 12:41:00 +0000

The optimist pleasantly ponders how high his kite will fly; the pessimist woefully wonders how soon his kite will fall. (Quote by - William Arthur Ward)

Last night I got to see the world acclaimed movie ‘The Kite Runner’ after postponing forever to watch it only after I read the book (which never happened). Just loved the movie every bit of it. To actually know that the movie was shot in China and not in Afghanistan is itself hard to believe.

No no. No review of the movie here. All those childhood days spent by Amir and Hassan flying kites, brought back memories of my own childhood (as usual). I was transported back in time to the days when we had the kite flying season, the hot hot summers. My brother was a very avid Kite Flier and with me having to say, I was his Kite Runner.

Being 5 years younger than him made him the BOSS and me him supporter. I wonder who in the world chose the summer days as the season for flying kites. May be its the time of the year when kids have enough time to make or buy ‘n’ number of those crazy kites and tan themselves to look like urchins. I do not know how they make kites any where else in the world except how my brother and his friends make.

It is an art making kites that can actually fly. Lots of paper thin(???) scrap papers or polythene sheets, home made glue, newspapers, those thin sticks on the leaves of coconut trees, twine, spool, etc filled our small house’s living room. Most of the trial kites made were from newspapers. Forget about all that and listen to how these guys made me their slave during the kite season.

As in the movie, fellows did not just fly kites for the fun of it, it was mostly to cut the kites of others. So you see, we needed a lot of strategy in doing this. Core competency was in the twine that gets wound in the spool of the kite. I was like this Hutch puppy back then (literally) going around my brother the whole day during the vacations. So I was asked to help (??) with the processing of the twine. You have got to make a paste of some ingredients to apply on the twine, let it dry and then spool it up to the kite. Now, a non-kite flier could never guess what makes that yucky paste… it has powdered glass pieces, eggs, Maida (all purpose flour) and neem tree glue (the brown sticky thing secreted in the tree – the deeper the cut made in the tree, more sticky glue is obtained). As a fan of my brother, I was honored with the job of powdering the glass pieces, getting the neem tree glue while its still sticky (am confused if we used this glue), make Maida paste in the right consistency. After all this is done, the experts break in the egg into this, apply it to the entire bundle of twine and the end product is what is called Maanja. I have no clue why its called so.

The maanja takes 2-3 days of preparing time before its gets attached to the Kite. The swing bars, push-up bars in the playground and the clothes line posts are used very effectively to dry this twine. No gloves those days… so polythene covers played the role. Role up 2-3 polythene bags to your hands and start working the maanja on the twine. After 3 days the cut-throat weapon of the Kites community is ready.

All the hardships vaporize in to thin air when we see our own kites soar up into the clouds like colorful hawks, out there to catch its prey. The kite flying competitions that we had with kids from neighboring colonies, foes turning into pals, sharing kite and maanja making secrets, all was fun. As soon as a kite was cut, me the Kite Runner for all of them on the ground & on the terrace shouting out, ‘I’ll get it, I’ll get it’ until I get it. I loved the funny, cute, wiggly tails that the different kites had. The sad part was, I always chased those kites and wanted them for myself, which never happened. The owners claimed it back :(

Unlike in Afghanistan, flying kites in not banned in the city where all this happened back then. But unfortunately, summers for the kids now has no place for the Kites. Its more of video games and movies. I wish and hope the parents who had the fun and thrill of flying kites in their childhood encourage their children to cherish the taste of it.

New Year Resolution...

noreply@blogger.com (Shree) — Mon, 04 Jan 2010 06:55:00 +0000

To Take more photographs of The Bold, The Beautiful, The Good, The Bad, The Ugly, The Friends, The Desperate Housewives, The Kite Runner, The Weddings, The Funerals, Children of Paradise, Children of a Lesser God, Party (Wedding) Crashers, The Animal, The Wild, The Road not Taken, A Bend in the Road, The Mystery and all other things that interest me... and did I miss A Breakfast at Tiffany's, A Life Less Ordinary, A Pretty Woman, A Roman Holiday...

So CHEESE :D

So Visit http://opticaltrance.blogspot.com/ to get a glimpse of my shots :)

Lust for a cost comes with a cost….

noreply@blogger.com (Shree) — Wed, 14 Oct 2009 05:27:00 +0000

Last week I planned to have a movie marathon and in the process happened to watch this Korean movie titled ‘Samaria’ or ‘Samaritan Girl’ by none other than the great director Kim-Ki-Duk. With it my movie marathon halted for a whole week. The movie affected me so much that I went around telling anybody who would listen about the theme of the movie.

As the thought kept haunting me, I came across a news snippet on a similar subject - http://edition.cnn.com/2009/WORLD/asiapcf/09/24/hongkong.teenage.prostitution/index.html?iref=mpstoryview

Yes.. the Samaritan Girl is a similar story happening in Seoul (if am not wrong) where two young girls Jae-yeong and Yeo-jin, both in early teenage try to make money to get air tickets to Europe, their dream destination. Jae-yeong is the one who does the ‘job’ and Yeo-jin handles the calls, clients, cash in a diary and keeps a look out for cops for her. The movie gives a glimpse of the family background of Yeo-jin, who is the daughter of a loving cop dad. There is not a mention about Jae-yeong’s family at all.

The story is presented in a way that Jae-yeong actually enjoys what she does and calls herself ‘Vasumitra’ – a mythical famous prostitute in India, but Yeo-jin has her own reservations about what they do to save money. She keeps advising Jae-yeong not to get emotionally attached to anyone but as you could guess, our Jae-yeong does get attracted to a musician, one of her clients and all goes wrong. In one such situation where Jae-yeong is with a guy and Yeo-jin loses few minutes in alerting her when the cops come to the motel, Jae-yeong jumps out from the second or third floor of the motel and is hurt really bad. In the hospital, Yeo-jin tries to get the information about Jae’s parents but she wants to meet only the musician she had fallen in love with.

Yeo-jin tries to persuade the guy to come visit her dying friend but the cost she had to pay becomes her virginity. But alas… Jae-yeong dies with a beautiful smile even before her best friend brings the musician to her. With this ends the part of Vasumitra.

The second part of the movie is the one that does justice to the title of the movie… the Samaritan Girl. Now the heartbroken Yeo-jin feels guilty for what she has done and wants to get rid of the diary and money that stays as the testimony to their action. Just when she burns them off, she realizes that she can do better than just burning it off to get away from the guilt. And here comes the Kim-Ki-Duk twist. She wants to return every penny earned to the rightful owners… but how? After having sex with all those men - as a tribute to Jae-yeong. This was the part that ripped my heart. Girls that young do not know what they get themselves into and what more they do to get out of the guilt feeling.

The scenes where older men meet Yeo-jin is really painful, especially when one elderly guy calls up his own school going daughter to check if she is in the tuition and not with any guy like this girl he had slept with. Now comes the next stab in our heart. Yeo-jin’s dad who happens to be a cop comes to a motel to investigate the murder of a young girl and sees his daughter in the hands of a man in the opposite building. The ‘almost dead’ expression on the father’s pain is just….. With this ends the second part of the movie.

In the final part, the father sees the innocent sleeping daughter of his in their home and weeps silently thinking what has happened for such a fate to befall his daughter. He stalks the men trying to meet his daughter. He even encounters one such guy in front of his family, hits him hard and asks ‘How can you sleep with a girl younger than your own daughter’ and leaves the place. The guy realizes his guilt and commits suicide by jumping off his multi-storied apartment. Yeo-Jin meets another guy again in the park and her dad knocks him to death in the restroom there. Yeo-jin sees the corpse, does not realize who has done it, scores out his name from Jae-yeong’s diary and throws it off, indicating that she is through with her tribute. Her father sees the diary and appears to understand something and that his daughter will not get back to this.

The same day, he packs some food and suggests to Yeo-Jin that they visit her mother’s grave and spend the weekend in the country side. And they do just that. During the trip, Yeo-Jin expresses a desire to drive the car but is scared to try it. In the next shot, we see her father driving the car in a very remote jungle…IN the river water, not on the banks and the young Yeo-jin fast asleep in the car. Her father gets out of the car and when Yeo-jin gets out too, she calls out for her dad and the next thing we see is her father strangling her to death and burying her. But wait… that’s only a dream or possibility. When she wakes up, we see her father painting the pebbles on the river bank in yellow color to pave a route and teach her how to drive within the painted path. While she is at it, we hear her dad calling up some cop and providing them the location of their whereabouts. Just when we see Yeo-jin getting a hang of driving on her own, a patrol-car pulls in and the father silently leaves with them.

Yeo-jin tries to drive fast to reach her dad but gets stuck in the muddy bank and with that the movie ends. Its left to the viewers to assume what happens next. What will she do all alone? Will she get back to prostitution? Or, will she be more responsible being alone? Will her dad be released soon to take care of her daughter? Is teaching her to drive mean that her father things she is a grown-up now and has to handle things on her own? Too many questions… and there can be equal number of answers.

It was a beautiful story and I felt these kinds of movies should be showed to all teenage school children to educate them the consequences of their immature decisions. Wish I could do something about this….

So Long Farewell….

noreply@blogger.com (Shree) — Fri, 14 Aug 2009 05:30:00 +0000

Greatness is not in knowing history… but in creating history… and she did.

This is in continuation of my post on (Tuesday, September 30, 2008) about our Visalakshi Avva only that in less than a year after that post, she is no more. Her soul left her material body on July 26th, 2009 and I really do not know where her soul wanders or does a thing called soul exists.

Talking about dead people’s soul, I had a weird fantasy when I was a kid. My paternal grandma was dead before I was born. So I used to wish so badly that her soul becomes my best friend and help me in the exam hall with answers without anybody’s knowledge. I used to wish she would convince my parents through magic to take me to a restaurant someday… or to Kodaikanal hill. Going to eat-outs did happen… but the tour part never happened :-D. May be my granny had other plans… if only the ‘soul’ really existed.

Jokes and juvenile desires apart… the truth that hits hard is my Visalakshi avva is no more. The great lady who strode this earth until a month back will never again be available, at least not to our mortal beings.

On 19^th of July - Sunday, avva had fallen down and hurt her leg. Her 86yr old body was not able to take the strain and made her bed ridden. It was a shock to all of her siblings. We always used to tease that avva would live for another 10yrs at the least and watch all the current mega serials (soaps on TV) come to an end. But as fate would have it.. avva died without knowing the end of those stories.

On Thursday (23^rd), when mom called me to say that avva had collapsed into coma and wanted me to come there ASAP… I had no control over the tears that knew no boundaries. When I reached Pollachi on Friday, avva looked to be in a deep sleep, only that she did not want to wake up when called. She never came out of her coma. The day had MANY people visiting her.. her surviving siblings and their off spring, her cousins, grandpa’s relatives, etc. All had come in the anticipation that it would be her last day.

But the brave woman that she is, she was struggling to come back to normal. I say this because the many doctors in our family kept telling that she is a will-powered woman and her pulses were getting stronger. With hopes that she would recover, me and mom came back to CBE on Sunday (26^th) since I had planned to return to B’lore the same day. But within few hours we got to hear the much anticipated, not at all pleasing news. Avva passed away at 3:45pm on 26^th July, 2009.

We rushed back to Pollachi and I was in a confused state looking at avva’s body. No tears came. I was only able to murme “why did you wait for us to leave and then die”. I know.. it sounds weird. Avva moved on without any trouble to herself and others… in other words, peacefully.

We the grandchildren present were Radha akka, Arthi, Jagadish and myself. All the others were off in alien lands not able to be here nor … I do not know how to end this sentence. I believe all of them were as speechless as we were. I saw Radha akka weeping silently and understood how much she loved avva. And there was Arthi with no commotion at all and of course Jagadish who was running around doing all that is required for the funeral. Maama, avva’s eldest surviving child, was inconsolable, but he composed himself as was required.

My anna (Magesh), an introvert, didn't have much to say (at least to me). His sad, broken voice asked me “I feel like seeing avva for the last time… will it be possible for you to send me some pictures”. That explained a whole lot of things to me. Later on, I did manage to send few of the photographs to anna and my cousins living abroad.

Meanwhile, Ramu anna had sent across an e-mail to all of us about what avva meant to him. Wanted to share that with you all…..

Date: Monday, July 27, 2009, 2:00 PM - From Ramu Anna:

Like every other grand children, I also have enough sweet memories with my Avva Visalatchi. Who is not famous but if someone could write a book about her, she has enough in her life as famous as any other great souls lived in this earth.

Though she provided a shelter to our family during our tough time, she started filling my memory after I was four. My first memory about her was, going with her to local bargain vegetable market where people buy things in small quantities (Kurru). Later years, I remember my chittis wedding and how she managed every single activity such as negotiating contracts with different peoples like manavarai alangaram (wedding hall decoration), Jewellery Sekar, Adikai head cook, buying groceries from wholesalers and etc. I remember, she hosted her home for her niece and nephews wedding too. Later when I was 6 or 7, I regularly going with her to ration shop and also timber mart to buy Woodstock and also wood dust. It was sometimes fun and also boring if the queue was long. The reason she took us, we could get extra since I was an additional headcount. Later years, Radha also joined with us. When we start each academic year, she brought us second hand books from others and also prepared note books from unused pages from previous year. She took me to hair dresser asked him to do a close cut so that I don’t need a hair cut for another 3 months. She personally worked with our tailor to stitch our school uniforms with folders and each year shed removed stitches and we used them for at least 3 years. From that age, I learned every basic thing such as how to live even with limited fortune, necessity of survival and also taking care of the family, why and how to help others with what we got.

Later years, we continued living with her. Many many good memories. Some of the best things that I got are only from her. For instance my first cycle, computer science course and also due to my poor higher secondary marks, I used her help again to get UG college admission.

She was like a Ala Maram (Banyan Tree) for us. She raised her children and also helped raining their children. I am very sure; every one of her grand children has similar stories like mine about her contribution to success of their life. I never remember if she kissed me even once but I know she was loving me and her other grand children to the core. A great soul full of love but never afraid of anything including her own death.

I have seen very closely at many times on how she worked on every possible thing to spend and manage her fortune, helping her family, her sibling's family, her children and grand children but I have never ever seen she has requested any help from anyone or at least from us.

With full of tears in my eyes. I am saying this, she never gave me an opportunity paying me back, so Avva made me lifelong Kadankkaran (debtor) for her.

Ramu – grandson of Visalatchi Ka

Date: Wed, 29 Jul 2009 00:45:35 -0700 - From Me

Hi All...
As ramu anna rightly said... avva was just more than a mere grand mother to all of us. I think we all carry a trait of her in us... and are glad for that.
I've attached few photos from her funeral.. a few snapshots of her last stint on this earth... Missing avva a lot.

Thursday, July 30, 2009 12:01 PM – From Ramu Anna again

Vanima,

Thanks for pictures. Though it is sad to see, it is very consoling by accepting the fact about the successful journey completion of our avva.

We need to understand the fact she has fulfilled her dreams and wishes in a nice way and here we are to continue ours in the same manner.

I don’t why every time I think or write about her, tears are just coming. I never thought myself, I would be grieving so much for her death.

Avva is simple, courageous, hardworking and No selfishness.

Thanks a lot for those pictures

Ramu

Thursday, July 30, 2009 7:55 PM – From Amutha

Hai all,

When I heared avva being sick and it's about time. I didn't quite know how to react... I was wondering , is it because I am here... But when I read ramanna's my tears started rolling without my knowledge.

All I was hoping was that she would b there to see Arya but she had her own plans.

I am sure that all of us will have our own memories of her.

Thanks to Vani for keeping us updated good or bad

-Amutha

And my reply to Amutha just read…

What are cousins for...

Cradle of Mirth...

noreply@blogger.com (Shree) — Thu, 25 Jun 2009 09:42:00 +0000

“When the first baby laughed for the first time, the laugh broke into a thousand pieces and they all went skipping about, and that was the beginning of fairies” - James Matthew Barrie

A little smile and a wet smooch from him would kindle a sense of mirth to even the saddest souls. Yes.. That’s what my one and half year old nephew is. He had come over from the US for a short vacation and I got to spend only fewer days with him. But those days will remain etched in my memory forever.

In the photos that my S-I-L shared over the years, we always saw a plump kuttu (the little one) with a lot of hair. Once they landed in the airport, we got really confused to see her carrying a leaner kuttu with a mushroom haircut and with really cool goggles. Initially I did not know what kind of emotion was flooding inside me when I saw my only brother’s kid. Then I realized it is because I’m seeing a part of my brother in him. Kuttu resembles my brother so much… which my S-I-L is not very happy aboutJ. All my elder relatives say my brother used to look just the same as kuttu looks now. I can imagine how my brother was when he was little. Kuttu is adorably playful but it seems by brother was a brat J

The initial days when he kept clinging to his mom was as adorable as when he got comfortable with our home and started walking around. The way he walks is like a little butterfly fluttering with its tiny wings. He bends his hands and raises it to shoulder level to balance himself. Can u imagine it? Wish you could have got the chance to see him walk/ run around the house. Kuttu just loves my mom… his granny. One call from her and he would drop even his favorite toy and go searching for her. And the way he heeds to his granny’s way of feeding him and bathing him is a sight that you can watch the whole day. Cutie pie. Mom calls him poonakutti (kitten). It’s because she like the ways his little pink tongue keeps coming out when he had his food just like a kitten. My happiest moment was when someone asked him where “athai” (paternal aunt) is and he immediately turned around, looked at me and gave his most beautiful acknowledgement smile.

I love the swing and so does my kuttu. Know what, my nephew is the next Sivamani in the making. He loves the drums and he tries his hands on all/any object he could reach and starts beating it like a drummer. And he likes to see the wheels go round-&-round in any vehicle that passes. I think that’s why he was so fascinated with the exhaust fan in our kitchen. He would walk into the kitchen and ask his granny to switch on the fan in his own baby language. The minute we switch it off, a sharp sound come from him. We used to switch it off again & again to hear him talk gibberish.

Kuttu just loves the SUN TV music. He does not take his eyes off the TV when they SUN TV logo music comes on. He even learnt to reach up to the TV and knock the TV screen when it comes. Also he likes to be photographed. The problem is instead of smiling from where he is… he would move his head forward and keep it close to the camera and wait for us to click him. Funny kiddo.

There are few things that kuttu does not like. He does not like to have his hair washed. That is he does not like it when the water flows over his face from his head. He hated sharp horn noises. Somehow he never wanted to drink water. So we started to include a lot of water into his main course food. He is kind of a cleanliness freak. His mom had mehendi applied on her hands and he dint want to touch it. It’s the same with food. He would ask anyone of us to feed him but never wanted to pick the food and eat it himself. He was ok with eating biscuits himself since they do not stick to your hand.

There is so much more to tell about him. I spent only few days and could not stop thinking about him. I’m jealous of my bother and S-I-L who get to spend every day with him and admire his every move. Whether or not it is my brother’s kid… a baby is always adorable and even a small movement of its little fingers could bring us immense joy. “A baby will make love stronger, days shorter, nights longer, bankroll smaller, home happier, clothes shabbier, the past forgotten, and the future worth living for”. I wish I too would get a chance to give the world a cradle of mirth of my own.

Reciprocate…

noreply@blogger.com (Shree) — Mon, 20 Apr 2009 13:39:00 +0000

Recently I had a row with him about the fact that I never reciprocate his feelings for me. His complaint was that I do not even approve the love he bestows about me. I have always thought myself to be a very considerate, empathetic and sympathetic person. When I sit back and ponder, I wonder it was all just a mirage.

Before I realized this, I always felt angry towards my kith and kin that no one understood me and that no one had time to empathize for others. It’s the same with everyone. In our busy and selfish world, we all feel that others do not value our opinion and nothing happens when we do not respond. All wrong!!!

I have come to accept that all of need approval and recognition. At least, I do. I do not like to write much in this blog since I do not get any comments except from Jesh. You may say it is because the posts are not very interesting. Then comment is so. Tell me it is not very interesting and hint me on how to improvise it.

I get upset when people do not reply to my mails. I’m a person who emails only very few and only if they are close to my heart. And when I do not get a reply… I feel inferior. I feel that the person who I feel is important to me does not feel the same about me. I keep opening my email inbox umpteen times with the hopes that I would have got a reply.

Yesterday was my brother’s birthday. I sent him an e-card wishing him. I also spoke to him over phone and wished him. There is no need for him to reply to that e-card. But since morning I’ve checked my inbox around 20 times. This act of mine is even more ridiculous since he lives in the US and there is almost no chance for him to wake up in the middle of the night and send a thank you e-card to me. Ha ha ha !!

Or even trivial is my expectation that people should recognize when I wear a new dress, hardly visible ear studs, etc. My list of seeking others opinion is endless and so are my disappointments :D

If reciprocating for an email matters so much to me, I wonder much of approval is required in our daily lives. Yes! I have read that we should not be influenced by what others think of us or what others feel about us. But I am very much influenced by what people say or do not say of me. Be it a good comment, I would gladly hug them and say, “You made my day”. Be it a negative one, I would frown a little and say, “I would give you another chance to be impressed” and would try to improve myself.

Then again, there is a big problem to handle. If I try to impress one person, they would expect me to keep up the standard. This part is difficult… I need to think deep about this and learn to accept that it is not always necessary to impress others and others opinion is not always important.

Miss u my friend…

noreply@blogger.com (Shree) — Mon, 09 Mar 2009 09:44:00 +0000

They (?) say absence makes the heart grow fonder
No, I do not want to grow fonder of you…I would rather have you near me fighting…

Again, I hear it's better to forget than remember you and cry
I would rather cry every waking moment and in my dreams… rather than forget you…

You told me once… For everything you have missed, you have gained something else, and for everything you gain, you lose something else.

I do not know if I would gain any thing if I lose you… but I would rather gain you by losing even myself.

I read someone quoting “Without you my life is like a broken pencil”
How true…. My life too has NO POINT without you….

My tears for you flowed along with the rain drops that washed my face… will miss and love you until we could find that lost tear.

To Sansu & Jesh…. Missing you both a lot (I know u guys hate each other for no fault of either of yours… but thanks for loving me).

I like these…. ‘Coz I like YOU….

noreply@blogger.com (Shree) — Thu, 05 Mar 2009 12:44:00 +0000

There are certain things in this world that I really have accepted to like even without realising why. Just yesterday I was wondering why did I like those things just like that… and did find the answer… I like those… coz I like someone who liked those… Simple.. isn’t it?

Would like to list a few…

Anna (elder brother): Since I love, admire and respect you more than anyone, I would accept anything you even seem to give a thought to. But few things that I really like because you do Lemon Pickles, Che Guevara, Periyar, Eggs, Paratta, etc etc

Sasi (Friend from college days): Though we are not in touch much… I still cherish our friendship. You taught me what it is to really be a ‘friend’. Just to be friends… you sometimes turns out to be my foe. I simply adore Harry Potter and it is because you introduced me to him.

Sansu (Sanusha- from my previous job place): What are you to me de? Friend or a sister -as all used to ask us… no its not because both of us wear glasses :D. Your are the best de. Do you know what all silly things I like coz I like you… GJ (for Gulab Jaamoon – Thats how u & limi call it), books, Calvin & Hobbes, PJs, hunting quotes for GTalk, being in love, trying to dress presentable, Raajma curry, Fish fry (even more after I knew u loved them), etc etc … the list can go on.

Jeshu - Rajesh – :): What more have I got to learn to like from you dear? I tried Baasandhi for first time since that is your favorite sweet, I started reading Charu ‘coz u like his work, visited Puttaparthi since you spoke of Sai always, started watching world movies and classics after you showed me to appreciate them, and few more da. I can’t recall them now :)

Anand (cousin): You are more a friend than a cousin ananda… Im trying to turn a vegetarian now… but still I started liking dried fish curry coz of u..

Motte (Rajan): You stayed with me lending a shoulder every time i cried…. never once were you the reason for my tears. Thanks da. I like Grilled Chicken and prawn fried rice more since the past 5 yrs… coz of you :). Ok… you started liking grilled chicken coz of me… its a tie-up.. forget it. Then again.. it just because of you that I open my eyes to appreciate art… modern or traditional. More like this…

Actually speaking… I have or rather had a BIG list of people who I adore and things that I like because of them. But am not able to put those into words and put it here. Its OK though. I know there are few things that all of us like just because the person we love likes them. Isn’t it?

Love all… Like all….

Masakali... Masakali...

noreply@blogger.com (Shree) — Wed, 25 Feb 2009 07:25:00 +0000

Until today, the About Me part in my Facebook… Orkut… Blogspot… always read “I am what I am”…. Now I’ve found a new word to describe myself… Masakali (THE song from Delhi-6 movie).

It so symbolizes me… free bird. At least that’s what I try & wanna be.

Free to think…
Free to travel anywhere my heart yearns to…
Free to live with someone I love…
Free to read the books I feel to…
Free to cook & relish what I like without bothering about health or diet…
Free to wear clothes suiting my mood rather than follow some corporate culture…
Free to be an atheist or theist… as it suits me at the moment…
Free to break traditions… rather than following the code “do not be the first to break traditions”…
Free to do the job I like to… like running a restaurant or juice bar or a library…
Free to express my feelings, emotions…
Free to have my own sweet little circle of friends… without any inhibitions…
Free to watch even the stupidest movie on earth without people judging me on that…
Free to own the out-of-date mobile phone model… and not having people stare at it…
Free to listen to devotional songs without actually understanding what the lyrics mean…
Free to trek up to a hill top, sit by myself on a dangerous cliff and wonder what nature is NOT…
Free to sit under a slanting glass roofed room and watch the rain water slide & then drop to the ground like tear drops…
Free to capture random moments on the digi cam…
Free to catch up with people I love… whenever I feel to…
Free to destroy men who exploit women and vice versa…..
Free to feel fear and courage....
Free to voice my difference of opinion of works of well acclaimed authors, celebrities, friends and foes…

The list goes on & on… In short, FREE is what I want to be.

Serve mankind…. when, where and how?

noreply@blogger.com (Shree) — Mon, 16 Feb 2009 09:54:00 +0000

“I always tried to turn every disaster into an opportunity.” - John D. Rockefeller

The first half of this article is about this quote by John DR. It is Monday, the 16^th of Feb 2009. Came to office a little early and had few minutes to catch up on the current news on TOI – Bangalore Edition. The main reason I wanted to read the e-news was to get an update on the Ram Sena (Lord Rama’s army ??) & the pink chaddi campaign that happened on the V- Day.

There are many articles on these two groups about which I do not want to elaborate much. The once news that caught my eyes is about the decision made by the Ram Sena head about the pink chaddis they received as a sign of protest. If it would have been me in that position of getting thousands of free underwear free of charge (though in the name of protest), my first impulse would be to send them to the needy. That was exactly what was decided by the Ram Sena initially, as per the news paper. However, they decided against the noble idea and decided to pollute the environment by burning them. How stupid can people get??? Just ask few of your sena members to sort out the good ones from the heap and pack them off to the numerous orphanages or homes for the disabled. Ok… your sena is too proud to sort through the heap… because to them it might be an insult rather than make use of the opportunity to server mankind, even in a small way. If that is your problem, why not ask volunteers from these homes to help themselves with the stock. Ok… the sena has decided to burn them all… so will it be. What have I got to say here.

But hold… I too will have a day when my voice will be heard loud and clear through the NGO called iTONE Foundation ©. Heard of it before??? I doubt it. This is the foundation me and my partner have decided to initiate once we have the proper means. It means “In Times of Need & Emergency (iTONE)” Foundation. By the way, there are other “itone” organizations that is dedicated to medicine, job consultation, IT concern, iPhone, etc. Hope people do not get confused :). I wish no one else uses this name for a soul saving organization, before we get it registered legally. We (me & him) were discussing about the under privileged lot in India and wanted to do something for them. I was inspired by the article I read in last month’s RD – about Jet Li’s ONE FOUNDATION.

In my previous post I had written about how blessed and beautiful I am and of course, many of us are. But there are countless others who lack the basic necessities. When I read about One Foundation, I was wondering if we have one such in India. Even if there is… it will not hurt to have one more group called the iTONE Foundation, who will work to have a better tomorrow, starting today. In fact, I would very much like to adopt the policy of One Foundation, that is… 1 person + 1 dollar + 1 month = 1 big family. Because, though we have the heart to move mountains, we require the means, the money to get the equipments to move it.

In India, may be we can start each person donating just RS: 10 per month, towards a SOS activity. How less is RS: 10? A hot plate of samosas from the college and office canteen, a parking ticket in a cinema hall, half the price of parking ticket in a mall, a cheap ball point pen, a piece of chocolate, a part of debt you don’t pay back a friend or forget getting it back from a friend, and the list goes on. Our staunch beief is that our fellow Indians definitely would have the heart to spare 10 bucks every month for iTONE… coz one never knows when they would themselves be a benefited by iTONE.

To start with, few of the SOS activities we aspire to do through the our iTONE are

Provide scholarships to “eligible” students who cannot afford to pay their tuition fees (at least up to their higher secondary education).
People who want to quit being sex workers and start a more refined life in spite of knowing that their income would be far lesser than what they make now.
People who once were forced into being the bad-elements of the society and are willing to start a new life.
Collect and send relief funds and basic needs to places struck by disaster… either man-made or god-made.
Set up camps to create awareness to the public about AIDS patients in our society and help the unfortunate victims
Invite doctors and other experts to spread awareness about the effects of drugs, liquor, tobacco, etc to students

It is a long way to go… and according to us, no destination is far if you know who to ask for direction and guidance. Few milestones to cross are

Kick start this movement by getting this organization registered and copy righted.
Form a team of responsible citizens who share a common desire – to serve mankind.
Talk to volunteers and management of other NGOs to know how they work
Initiate celebrities (actors, authors, sport icons, etc) to support our cause… coz their words though few would reach far
To meet people in different walks of life to research on the feasibilities
To set a official web site and logo to project our ideas and accept innovative ideas from others like us. (Any web designer reading this willing to volunteer – for free?)
Open up a bank account dedicated to the funds of iTONE foundation
Meet the youth and the elders alike to seek their volunteer ship and contributions
Persuade our NRIs to become active contributors… etc

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But WE have promises to keep,
And miles to go before WE sleep,
And miles to go before WE sleep.

My request to the readers of this post to pitch in their ideas and guidance to help us move forward in serving mankind.

Blessed and Beautiful …

noreply@blogger.com (Shree) — Wed, 04 Feb 2009 09:21:00 +0000

“My imperfections and failures are as much a blessing from God as my successes and my talents and I lay them both at his feet.” -- Mahatma Gandhi

I’ve never thought about writing about “beauty” again after my own post on Monday, May 14, 2007. Last week I had been to my cousin’s home. For some reason, I took out a stamp size photo of mine and she said she wanted one for her keep sake. I was glad that even she (whom I know since birth) prefers to keep my picture as a memento. But my happiness was short lived. She took out one of her photograph and started comparing facial features. After much evaluation, she repeated the same thing I’ve heard from few times before. It goes like this..” Your lips are defined, eyes are good… nose too seems OK… but somehow… the whole picture of you… does not look good. There is something negative about the way you look, unlike the way I do”. I could hear my conscience saying smoothly “Don’t bother”… but being a normal human that I am, I told her “sis, I’ve heard this before. So let us not keep exchanging the same info again”. She appeared very cool, ‘coz she was busy with the photos.

Since childhood, I grew up with cousins, friends and classmates who looked better and appeared beautiful. One cousin of mine had a pathetic nick name for me… ICU (inferiority complex YOU… as it comes in the Tamil movie Gokulathil Seethai – IC Mohan, if am not wrong). It actually took me years to come out of this weakness that grew with me. After this recent episode of photo comparison, once again I sat back to think in what way I am blessed and beautiful.

Let me list them here so that I can remind myself time and again whenever the ICU part of me peeps. I’ve a heart to be kind most of the times, mind to feel all emotions, a selfless ego, enough grey cells to work in the IT field (as my friends tease me…not much is required for my kind of job) and to analyse between right & wrong, am not deaf except to unruly comments like my cousin’s, am not blind to ignore the beauty around me, sturdy legs fast enough to catch the bus that starts to move just as I near the bus stop, strong hands to do all that I do, skills to come up with something creative, etc. What are my other blessings... a family with whom I can patch up even after the worst fights, friends to luv and be luved back, a job to keep famish away, soul to pray for everyone, a possibly bright future with a nice family and kids (am being optimistic), etc.

Actually speaking, everyone and everything that has and will make me smile even for a moment in my life time is a blessing. It might not hurt if I mention, even those moments and people who have or might make me cry are blessings to me in disguise.

With so many graces bestowed upon me, how can I think am not beautiful... or rather, how can anyone think so. So presenting to you all... the Bold and Beautiful... ME :D

Till Death Do Us Part....

noreply@blogger.com (Shree) — Thu, 29 Jan 2009 07:06:00 +0000

When two people decide to part ways, it isn’t a sign that they “don’t understand” one another, but a sign that they have, at last, begun to --- HELEN ROWLAND

It is a really tough topic to ponder on, given to all the things I've come across... seeing few being relieved to be separated and few others in tears after taking the wedding oath to stay together forever. There has always been this confusion about when it is fair to seek a divorce. Be married for a very short period, say a couple of years.. then they say "you have lived with that person too short a period to judge each other and seek a separation. So you need to put in more years to know enough before deciding". Ok, fine... they were married for around 5-10years.. and the crowd crows "Didn't you know you were not compatible for so many years? There definitely should have been a bond that should have kept you guys together for so long. Rather than breaking apart, you should rebuild the bond". Now, there is this couple, married for 20 long years and now want a divorce. And there is this noise you can hear around saying, "come on... you know each other so well and have been part of the other's life for two decades. What will you achieve by parting now. You DO NOT have an identity as "you" any more. The society always will recognize you ONLY as Mr & Mrs Couple."

Hello... will someone not stop this nonsense of advicing when the couple could find some peace. It sure looks like a brave deed by the couple who have divorced but trust me, it is not that easy. The trauma one goes through is a psychological pain equivalent to triple coronary bypass surgery. Read this comparison on the net. How true!

While in India, and from a "typical" middle class family run more by the "4 people (aka society)" rather than the family members, being married or separated is merely a influenced relationship. Wait.. I do accept that love does exist in many surviving marriages, but scenes are different in other households. First, the girl is forced to marry a guy because he is educated and is employed. What about her likes/ dislikes for the guy? Her cries reach but only to deaf ears. Then there is this emotional blackmail of their family "prestige" being ruined. So, the girl being an emotional freak herself, brings herself to the level of a slaughter animal and gets married any ways.

Now the real problem starts. The girls instincts did not fail her. The couple knew from the very first month of their married life that they were not meant for each other at all. To make matters worse, the in-laws did all they could to blame the girl for all the misunderstandings by intruding into what the girl cooks, eats, wears, spends, who she talks to, about her jewelery, when she can visit her parents, etc. But took NO step to ask or think what was wrong with their son to make the girl not like him (the word HATE here would sound too harsh). Sounds simple.. ha? Wish the readers would get into her shoes bare foot, walk a while to know the bites.

Here is another incident that happened to a not-so-close second cousin of mine. They were married for 7 long years. May be it is the height of the seven-year-itch, as they say. The man wanted a divorce. Reason: the lady could not bear him a child and is a talkative. The lady wanted to stay put in the relationship. In spite of : he being a drunkard, incompatible, lets his sister boss her around, lets his parents to abuse her emotionally and her parents financially. I really do pity this girl. I have also seen couples who support each other emotionally in spite of not being able to have children.

I can keep on giving episodes of all the painful separations that happen. Opposites do attract... in magnets. However in a relationship, there ought to be more compatibility to stay attracted and remain together forever. I do not think there are any couple in this era can claim that they could keep on admiring all the differences they have and live contented for ever. Another possibility is to learn to appreciate the differences, search for things compatible, work on it and make life more peaceful.

Please note...Neither do I quote that MEN are the root cause for the break in a relationship nor do I say that people should get divorced immediately without trying to make the relationship work. I wish these birds do not become vulnerable after the painful episode in their lives. It would be best for them to grow new, strong wings, face the wind and reach new heights, lands and achieve more. My second wish and prayer is that the Indian society does not treat them any lesser than the so-called-happily-married women.

“As I make my slow pilgrimage through the world, a certain sense of beautiful mystery seems to gather and grow.” --- Arthur Christopher Benson

noreply@blogger.com (Shree) — Mon, 19 Jan 2009 11:07:00 +0000

Hmmm it is quite some time since I wrote (spelt as s-c-r-i-b-b-l-e-d) something. In a way to end the year 2008 in a very pleasing way, I went to two religious places with family. Yeah… I know its not like me to go out with family… but I did. Wanted to pen a few things about the trips… a long one.. beware :)

Trip 1: An “on an impulse” visit to Puttaparthi with mom.

It was around 8am on 20th Dec… a sunny Saturday and I had all the possible excuses and reasons to stay home and laze around. But mom had this feeling of visiting Puttaparthi after watching the Sathya Narayana Pooja telecast from Prashanthi Nilaya. And as a good daughter (that I am not), I decided to take her to Puttaparthi for the evening darshan of Sathya Sai. I told her clearly… we are to return back the same day since we did not know anyone there nor did we know the place. But as always, I was the first person to pack an overnight kit minus the essentials (soap, tooth brush & paste). I enquired around and made sure that Sai was in Puttaparthi and started our trip. Reached Majestic Bus Terminal at around 12:30pm which meant we won’t be able to return the same night. Again, we were enlightened with the information that the 1pm bus was not available that day and had to take the 3pm bus.

I really want to share a small episode that happened in the bus station. The bus to Parthi came at around 2.30pm. After boarding the bus, I asked mom to stay put and went to rest room. Just as I came out, I noticed a young girl (Rathna) crying a lot. The keepers of the rest room were talking to her. Being a person who does not trust anyone, I assumed they were abusing her and spoke to her. She told me shes from another town which was 3hrs away from Blore and she had ran away from home since her parents scolded her often and that she didn’t know what to do next. She was crying so much that a small crowd encircled us to watch the drama but not many to help. A guy in the crowd was a little too generous. After much coaxing and advising, Rathna agreed to go back home and got her relative’s phone number. The generous guy waited until I spoke to the relative in my broken Kannada and Ratha finished her story to the relative. Finally the relative assured to come and take the girl back home. In fact the guy (in the crowd) took out 200-300rs and asked her to go back. May be his intentions were good… but the way he kept touching the gal’s hand to offer money didn’t look very appeasing. Finally, I had to leave the girl with the care takers there and had to go on the way to Puttaparthi.

While all this was happening, another thing happened in the bus in which mom was waiting. A very humble looking lady seems to have spoken to mom in Tamil about the seats. They picked a conversation and both looked pleased when I came to the bus. It seems that aunty (Lakshmi) is a resident of Puttaparthi and is a staff at Prashanthi Nilaya. She offered to take us to her home to refresh and on reaching there, she also arranged for our stay there with her a boarding house just next to hers. Since it was very cold, she even woke up early to get us hot water for our baths the next day. Though she did not come along, she helped us with all the needed details to have a very pleasant and memorable 2 days visit to Puttaparthi. In fact, we were even happier since our trip was complete after the morning darshan of Sai.
These two incidents made me realize “What goes around, comes around”. I felt the need to help the girl Rathna and it came back to us in the form of Lakshmi aunty. Don’t you all think so?

Trip 2: A not-so-well planned visit to Manthralayam with relatives.

(I started writing this blog during the first week of Jan 2009 and am trying to finish it today. Many thoughts, memories and opinions that were flooding my mind then have trickled down a lot. I still continue to write about this trip to remind myself details about it.)

Dec 28th, 2008 – The last trip for the year - to Manthralayam with 11 relatives, inclusive of my parents. My uncle (dad’s cousin) told me that we will reach Manthralayam the same night at 11pm. That’s 13hrs from Coimbatore, my home town. If I had travelled that long in a flight, I might as well have reached US of A, taking the shortest route. But I was all ready to visit Ragavendra Swami in his abode. Yes… visit him, because as history & news quotes, he is still alive in his Jeeva Samadhi. (Samadhi means higher levels of concentrated meditation…. And not death). I just found the exact meaning. I assumed Samadhi meant “dead”. How ignorant!!

We had the usual family train travelling experience, with food packed from different families, shared, complimenting – sharing recipes if it tastes good, giving hints for better tastes, gossiping about relatives, about movies, etc. We crossed Puttaparthi en route to Manthralayam and it actually felt good to revisit the rail station.

We reached Manthralayam by 11pm, lodged at APTD guest house. The next morning, we went for the 8am Dharshan. Since it was a Monday, there didn’t seem to be much crowd. As usual, I became very pious when in the temple and could feel the vibration of… don’t know what that is.. but I get a feeling of presence of something… someone…who you can trust. I feel this more when I talk to Lord Krishna.

After that we hired a cab and left to a place called Nava Brindhavan, which is in the banks of the Thungabadra River in the state of Karnataka. We had to cross the then slow flowing river in a small motor boat to reach the temple. This place is revered for the Samadhi of 8 saints. The place was quite but for few tourists/ devotees like us. I wanted to take a dip in the cool river, but time set a constraint on my small wish :)

From there, we travelled another 15km to reach Hampi. Here again we had to cross the river to reach the Virupaksha temple, which is said to be the oldest temple in that region. Monuments and architecture never seize to astonish me. The temple was just so AWESOME. The sculptures, the layout was all so beautiful… and so was the mood of the people there, most being tourists. The enthusiasm there was so infectious that it seems to catch the entire crowd there. Unlike Bellur/ Halebid, was able to find a lot of westerners here. I heard from localities there that these people stayed there for quite some time to study about Hampi and its rich culture. I indeed felt proud to be an Indian and part of the heritage.

The best thing I liked in this age old temple is the the image of the main Gopuram that passes through a small vent in the wall and its reversed reflection is seen in a small room well inside the temple. The scientific knowledge of our ancestors does not fail to keep our modern thoughts humble. Again, cause of time constraint, we had to return without feasting our eyes on the other monuments in Hampi. We returned back to Manthralayam.

The third day of our trip, we had time until 12.30pm, the time we would board our return train. So it was decided that we will take our bath in the supposed-to-be holy Thungabadra river and all of us headed to the bank at 6.30am. To my dismay, a small dirty pool of water was all that said a river actually flowed there during the monsoons. Though my relatives did take a bath there, I though against it and came back to the lodge and had a decent bath. Now I sincerely prayed that the source of the tap water wasn’t the ‘river’ or at least it was processed well. High hopes… ha!

Once again we went for Dharshan and had a good one too.
We were told that there is Anna Dhanam (food distribution) in the temple and it’s would be a blessing to have food there. I even got coupons for the meal. But now is the saddening part. I saw a placard directing us to a dining hall inside the temple campus itself. On enquiry, they told me that the food will be served at 10am. I took my parents and relatives to the place only to be humiliated. They said this place is ONLY for Brahmins and that food will be served in another hall outside the temple campus, for non-brahmins. Not just the Brahmins working in the temple… just any tourist who claims to be from a Brahmin family. In fact, the guy there did not even give us the holy water (theertham) and shooed us off. All of us were really upset. We were grumbling among ourselves about this untouchability that is followed here, a temple which was built on the land donated by a Muslim. Another tourist, should be a Brahmin by birth, said that’s because they will have to tell their pious Gothra and some sloga there. What the heck. Does that mean all non-Brahmins come from bad Gothra’s and are not children of God. He also suggested that we can just tell our gothra and have food from the Brahmin dining hall. But we didn’t want to do that.

Later I asked a friend (of Brahmin birth) about this and in fact, he had reasons to justify it. I too agree that if the dining hall is exclusively for the Brahmins who work in the temple, then all is fine. Every place… be it a temple or a corporate office, it had its own dining area for the employees. But how can any sundry tourist with the sacred thread on this chest and a different slang be allowed this honor. I wish someone would remind the temple management the principles of the great saint Ragavendra Swami.

With a little bitter feelings and lot of cherished experience we returned from Manthralayam. I do not know if I would go back to Manthralayam again (unless I get a divine instruction to come there), I would most definitely go back to Hampi someday, stay there for 2-3 days, at the least, and explore more about the place or just to sit in the high rocks to watch the sun rise and set. I forgot to mention the most important thing that kept me surprised. The whole area, be it Manthralayam or Nava Brindhavan or Hampi… all had huge rocky hills on either side of the road and the banks of the river. Each mould made me wonder how nature holds these rocks together. Hail Nature!

She can change your life…

noreply@blogger.com (Shree) — Fri, 05 Dec 2008 09:14:00 +0000

“The key to change... is to let go of fear.”

In a sense, yes! She did to mine! May be… just may be… she can change your life too, like she did to mine, though not to the greatest extent. I can tell you how.

In your busy schedules, at times you have the heart to not feel guilty and indulge yourself to a nice hot dinner, a comfy couch (bed in my case) and a TV-DVD all to yourself and no one to judge you about the dress your wear, the angle you are inclined to and the movie you have settled down to watch. Sounds like fun. Isn’t it? In the recent days, I’m seeing more such lucky nights J

And the movie I saw yesterday was Amelie from Montmartre (the English title for the French movie Amélie). I want to write so much about the movie but don’t want to write a review of it and spoil the fun of watching the movie. On any given day, I would recommend this light heart-touching comedy flick.

A one liner about the movie… it is about a girl, obviously named as Amelie (played by Audrey Tautou), who has a cute little mischievous smile throughout the movie. She happens to help a 50yr old man get a glimpse of his childhood through the toys she recovers and how the happy-tear filled face of the man prompts her to help people around her. She goes out of her way to help others but she realizes through another person that ‘self help is the best help’ and finds her love. She understands that letting go of fear can do wonders.

Needless to mention are her wild imagination of things happening around her. The unspoken moments that Amelie shares with Nino (her love) are short and sweet. The extra second that she lingers while kissing on his eyes… is just so cute. And the ‘am happy and contended’ expression on her face when she goes around in the streets of Paris in Nino’s moped seems to make her entire life seem fulfilled.

Coming back to how she influenced me… she made me to realize that helping others is not always the best option… helping ourselves to get what we want is more important, even if the attempts are small and the need trivial.

Definitely a ‘do not miss’ movie… she is out there to change your life forever.

Hero Worship……..

noreply@blogger.com (Shree) — Fri, 24 Oct 2008 11:52:00 +0000

Hero-worship exists, has existed, and will forever exist, universally among Mankind.

Always wanted to write about few people who are in my list of heroes and who I hero-worship shamelessly. In fact my list of heroes is never fixed… it keeps moving up and down like the equalizer in WinAmp with different colors as well. Red for most favorite, amber for steady favorite, green for recent favorites, yellow for those I like but don’t dare to disclose to anyone and those who drop off from my list get merged with the black background.

Anything uttered by Rajini kanth (always red in my equalizer) off-screen can make me ponder over that for many days to follow, even if it sometimes is controversial to his earlier quote or is outright illogical. He inspires me to set a style of my own (no luck yet), to travel around the world, and also to leave everyone I know & abscond to the Himalayas, Rishikesh or Haridwar. Then there is this guy named Kamal Hassan… who haunts my dreams only as the numerous characters he has portrayed or rather lived on-screen. No words to describe that. Any nonsensical so-called-romantic dialog articulated by Ajith and Brad Pitt on-screen can bring butterflies in my stomach. Then I do like Ganja Karuppu (listed under yellow)… with his horribly shabby appearance and funny accent. And I used to be in so much awe for Sidney Sheldon, until I realized the person is a HE and not a SHE. Still I do esteem his books and wouldn’t mind reading all his novels for another umpteen times. I have heard enough to hate Hitler, but somehow, his crude courage in his 5 feet body inspires and shocks me simultaneously. I love Calvin and would do anything to have a kid like that (Of course, if I get the boon of immense patience) and make my life more interesting. Ok…… I know am being silly. But they are few of my heroes and I do worship them. Who is to say not to?

Now is the reality bites part. The sad part is these people in flesh or fiction don’t even know that I exist. Does that make a difference to the way I feel towards them? No, it does not. Neither do I want to meet these folks and spoil the glamour I feel towards them.I was searching for a quote to be used for my GTalk and happened to see this one “Each man is a hero and an oracle to somebody, and to that person whatever he says has an enhanced value”. How true!!

I sit back and think about some people who crossed by path and made a difference. All my friends and relatives are my unsung heroes and I don’t have it in mind to talk about them here. An example of people who inspired me… my teachers Bama(math) & Nagalakshmi (English) in school. Is it because I adored them that I liked the subjects or is it vice versa? No idea. Whichever way it is… both have been a very pleasant feeling. There are many more people who I have come across… who are heroes in their own little and big way.

Hmmm… I thought of not writing about my relatives as heroes. But I do want to write about by brother (anna) who has always been my hero. Is it because he was my first play mate, or was it because he was my first friend, or was it because he was my first study mate, or is it because I realized he was my sibling and not just a play mate, or was it because he is guardian, or was it because he is my role model or is just his presence in my life… I cannot think of which makes him my real-time, all-time hero in flesh and blood.

Whatever it is… he means the world to me yesterday, today and many more tomorrows to come. There have been times when I trusted his every motive to be beneficial to me and the days when he boasted that I am the best sister anyone could get. We crossed days when I thought he was the most selfish person on earth and me the most ridiculous being. There have been days when I did not want to hear his voice at all and then days when he made sure to avoid talking to me. There has been too many not-so-happy events in the recent days where I am put to test about the hero-worship I have towards anna.

I wish people realize that we can create lifelong connection only with some and cannot be forced to stay put with someone just coz someone else wants you to. I wish life was much easier and people can keep aside any hard feelings. I wish, I wish, I wish…. Too many wishes and very little time to wait to for the wishes to become true. I am trusting only on the hope I have, to set me free, coz I have realized that that fear can only hold you prisoner (The Shawshank Redemption)

Gosh… the blog was intended to mean and sound something nice but it has ended in a sad way. I do not have any intention to change it. As I always say… this page is a vent to my feelings and am glad to let out some pressure through this.

So much has been said and sung of beautiful young girls, why don't somebody wake up to the beauty of old women?

noreply@blogger.com (Shree) — Tue, 30 Sep 2008 10:40:00 +0000

“It is now time for another write-up”. This thought came up last night when I happened to read one of the short stories of author Sujatha, titled “V.G.R”… a leaf from his collection called “Sri Rangathu Kadhaigal (devadhiagal)”.

I need not elaborate on the story for Sujatha’s fans. But to others like me… it is about a mathematics teacher who lived long, had a very grand death ceremony, is still remembered and has a scholarship program running in his honor in the school where he used to teach. But the sad part was, he had a slow and lonely death with no one near to care for him.

Neither I am a rightful person to throw light on Sujatha’s work nor am I going to do that. As I was reading the story, my thoughts went around my grandparents for a small fraction of time and wanted to write couple of lines to keep myself a little satisfied.

Saraswathi: My dad’s mom. Never knew anything about her. I heard that she passed away even before her 6 children finished school education. Not a pleasant death though. I wonder at times what it would have been like to have a paternal grand-mom around. Dad has one very grainy photo of her. The few features that can be seen remind everyone of my dad’s second younger sister – Bharathi. This meant we were only able to visualize a shadow of how grandma would have looked like. Mom said that on the day of their wedding, dad asked mom to take care of his siblings the way a mother would. I think she did her part well. In fact, mom named me after grandma… ShreeVani (Vani meaning Saraswathi).

Sundararajan: Saraswathi’s husband. My dad’s father. I and my brother were not much connected to him as the other grand children of his. So was my dad. Sometimes it haunts to think how disconnected a family could be. Grandpa passed away this April (may be on 7/04/08). Dad normally sends him money every month. But since he was abroad during grandpa’s last few months, it was my responsibility to send him money every month. And I am happy that I could see to his needs at least in a small way. Even now when I think about him, in spite of all hard feelings, I still tend to have a soft corner for him, the only reason being… he gave me MY dad.

Krishnaswamy: My mom’s dad. I like him for few things and hate him for one thing. Until he got bed ridden two years before he passed away, he was always active as a bee. He would tirelessly stitch nice skirts, blouses, etc for us granddaughters. I don’t remember if the boys got anything stitched by him. And for his age, he would traverse a might distance during his evening walks. And when he visits us, he would at times (very rarely) give us 50np or so for candies. Any given day I would be grateful to him for having altered my school uniforms from the previous year to be used for the following academic year. I will never be ashamed of that because he used to do such a good job with my clothes. These are few things that I liked best in him. Now comes the reason I hate him. He had a darker skin tone… following which each of his alternate born kids (1st, 3rd – my mom, 5th) were not on the fairer side and that resulted in me having a not-so-fair skin tone.

Visalakshi: My cutie pie grand ma. Mom’s mother. Avva (means grandma. I also read on the net that ‘avo’ – pronounced as ava, in Latin means grandma too) from here on, can be described as nothing short of Mother Teresa or Rani Lakshmi Bai or both or simply comprise everyone into Visalakshi. The way she cared for each of us will make any one see Mother Teresa in her. My mom and her siblings will never forget the days (years???) when avva used to put up a fight to meet the needs of the family and how she taught her kids that self help is the best help and made each of them grow up strong and independent. Know what, in those by gone days, avva has been the Counselor of Pollachi. They say she had actively participated in politics until forced by husband and in-laws to see to the welfare of the family alone. Mom has told us stories about how avva had kept the family stable during financial crisis and helped every one moved on. I sincerely believe that she inherited all the good genes from her father – Nataraj. And by the way, avva is very fair toned and her 2nd and 4th kids (both daughters) are fair skinned too.

Being all this and more does not show a trace now in her life at ripe age of 84. All my aunts, uncle and mom say it is really very difficult to take care of her now. No… neither is she bed ridden nor is disabled. The problem is she has taken refuge in watching TV soaps and reading any kind of Tamil novels. She keeps asking for the time with a phantom fear that she might miss a show on TV or if she has not yet finished reading a book within her planned (???) time schedule. Avva is a person who used to be very strict about the way she wears her saree and how she ties her hair bun. But now, she has moved on and has accepted to wear nighties and has a very short hair cut. Tears crept into my eyes when she looked up from her book and said, “See… how short they have cut my hair ” and went back to reading her no-name novel. The last time I visited her on (16/08/09), she said to me,” Ha… after so many days you’ve come to see me. I like Bholi (a sweet) a lot… nice that you bought me some. It has been ages since I tasted once of these”. This time, my knees went weak listening to an old lady remembering that I did not visit her. Does that mean she would have thought about me once in a while in between her TV shows and reading spree? If she could remember me in her not so steady memory line, why don’t I remember her more often and visit her as well. All said and done… I wish I could life a full life like hers and have a family that would care for me if I happen to live that long.

Etiquette please ......

noreply@blogger.com (Shree) — Fri, 19 Sep 2008 10:32:00 +0000

Ha.. Etiquette for everything and most importantly, of the rest room in common places.

During end of last week and the beginning of this week, there were few emails sent from some RESPONSIBLE female colleagues in our floor at my work place.

The first one spoke about the basic etiquette to be followed and pleading the so called, high paid PROFESSIONALS to help maintain hygiene in the toilets. The event that triggered this event was that some unlucky soul had to finish an urgent nature’s call and finally found that the flush not working. I was one of the lucky few who were not destined to face it. SOS :)

After the house keeping guy came to the rescue, we could breathe again. And on Monday again, there were few reminders of healthy habits and requests, a mail on indirect finger pointing and another mail on standing up for self-esteem to say ‘Do not point finger at me. I am as shocked as you are when I witnessed the scene in the rest room’.
All this made me write about the rest rooms we come across in common places like the malls, movie houses, bus & rail stations, etc.

When I used to work in Chennai, me & my roomies happened to go to a very small theater (near Thiruvanmayur bus stop) to catch a much talked about movie "Engal Anna". I could really kill the person who recommended this movie to us, but wasn’t able toL. That being a small talkie, the crowd that normally throngs the place is of the lower middle class or lower class economic crowd. We were very skeptical about going to the loo during the intermission. But we went anyways and were really taken aback. Yeah, you guessed it right. It had one of the most clean and well maintained public conveniences I’ve ever been to. This made me change my perception of judging a place by it size and crowd.

I can go on describing about the numerous public wash rooms we encounter. But I wanted to write about the unpleasant experience I had in hi-fi shopping malls in Bengaluru.
As everyone know, Bengaluru malls give u snap shot view of how a westernized world looks like, of course until you take a peep into the women’s wash room there. The girls waiting to relieve themselves look so pretty with their cute clothes and make-up that it makes people like me to feel totally out of place in a beauty pageant dressing room.

Then you get your turn to use one of the rooms and all the fairy tale images of the models outside and who just left that room crashes with a loud thud as I drop the toilet seat (of course after draping my hands with almost a whole roll of toilet paper). I was reminded of the funny quote about marriage that goes as "Those who are out want to get in and those inside want to get out". The quote was so apt at that moment. These washrooms are the most disgusting places you could find in a so-called modern hang outs. I really pity the housekeeping ladies there and pray that they do not get infected with some horrible disease. And I do not want to imagine anything about the male convenience room at all. It no wonder that many shops keep their washrooms under lock & key and don’t let customers use them :)

I sincerely wished that day that I had a digicam handy to click the mess they have left, to run around all those gals who created it and yell out in front of their friends/relatives about how stupid they are behind closed doors and stick the photo on their face. These people need to be trained at gun point.

I spoke about the small theater in Chennai before to show you the contrast between the people of the supposedly higher class and the normal people for whom going for a movie once a month itself is a luxury. I am a person who usually has a soft corner for the working class and this episode makes me move more comfortably with them rather than with the "models" beautifying the malls’ corridors.

Blue is my favorite color.... but not today.

noreply@blogger.com (Shree) — Tue, 19 Aug 2008 07:26:00 +0000

I am in one of my colorful moods -blue, red and green. Yeah… I am sad, angry and jealous.
I wish someone would spare some time to ask me what is causing me these mixed emotions. I know it is a very busy world out there and no one have the time to ponder over their own feelings and emotions.
Am sad since I don’t have anyone to trust and belong to.
Am angry because I don’t get to be me but to remain a puppet.
Am jealous as everyone around me seems to be happy in spite of their problems.

Being composed is one thing…. Composing oneself is a different plane altogether
Smiling from soul is one thing… Smiling just with lips is another dimension
Taking the beaten road is one thing, taking the road less travelled is another… Journeying through a non-existent road is where I’m treading on.

Even now I’m wondering why I write this on the blog… but can’t help crying out for peace for my heart that’s in pieces.

Shree's Day Out... Alone

noreply@blogger.com (Shree) — Wed, 16 Jul 2008 11:19:00 +0000

“The soul that sees beauty may sometimes walk alone.”
I was unemployed for the first time after a long gap of 4 yrs and 2 months. Unemployed for one day on 15th July, 2008.

My last working day with SRIT was the previous day which ended with a lots of tears (only from my end), gift of a beautiful saree, a grand lunch with team @ Bageecha and of course, the relieving letter at EOD.

I had to join my new organisation today (16th July, 2008). So that meant I had one unemployed day all for myself yesterday. Am writing the following as it happened on 15th July, 2008.

8:00 am
I ask a friend… how much are the tickets @ Lido on a weekday and she says… 100bucks. I wonder… 100rs on a damn busy weekday?? She immediately says… may be its Rs.80. I think… and think and then decided to do the thing I always wanted to do. Go for a movie all alone.Speculated for another 45min, rushed to take bath, packed an apple for snack ;) and was out ASAP.

9:20 am
Am already in bus stop still speculating about whether to go or not. But I have to and get over this mental block I had of goin alone for a movie… I know it sounds crazy for lot of people and I can hear them asking…Wats the big deal here?

Point 1… even now my parents freak out if I go for a movie… with friends… in Blore or Coimbatore
Point 2… am not a person to spend 100rs for a senti Hindi movie in a multiplex.. DVD costs cheaper
Point3… am the club leader of the people who think movies are to be watched with friends
Point4… am not smart enough to face the people who stare at me in the queue when I say “1 ticket to Jaane Tu ya Jaane Na – 10am show”. Yeah.. that’s the movie I went to.

9:40 am
Was in the theater. I thought it will not be crowded. But the ticket counter was crowded, will LOTS of gals’ gangs, which reminded me of my own college days when we used to bunk college (pssst… my parents dnt know abt that yet). While in queue, the guy in front of me got 1 ticket to the same movie. I was happy I was not the only member in the loner club today.

9:55 am
Around 50ppl decorated the hall… almost 80% of the seats were empty. I was lucky (as if) to get a nice seat in an all empty row… imagine that… empty rows to the front & back and me in the middle. Felt eeir but good.

10:00 am
Jana Gana Mana music composed my ARR. Beautiful. Then the movie started… for the first time in my DTS expierence, I could sense the real surround system. The title had a saxaphone playing as the BG score… It seemed to eminate from different corners of the movie hall. It was such a beautiful experience. Now I would say, it was all my mistake that I never cherished the DTS effect in the innumerable films I’ve watched. I did find the difference when I watched Jodha Akbar… but now, it was very much mesmerising since the theater was almost empty. Beautiful is the word for that.

Upto 12:50 pm
Mmmm thats it… the movie went on.. Good entertainer. Reminded me of a tamil movie in which Prasanth & Shalini starred. Had my apple… finished the movie and came back a winner… like in Who Dares Win :)

The existence of forgetting has never been proved: We only know that some things don't come to mind when we want them

noreply@blogger.com (Shree) — Wed, 18 Jun 2008 10:25:00 +0000

For the sense of smell, almost more than any other, has the power to recall memories and it is a pity that you use it so little.

Today morning, while I was on my way to work... I felt some old memories spring up for no reason at all. It took me back to the Ganesha temple near my childhood home. I visualized myself go around the temple.

Then bang.. it hit me why I remembered that place. It was this not so common sweet fragrance that floated in the early breeze of polluted Bengaluru. The melodious aroma of the flowers that used to grown in the temple. I don't know the name of it.. a tiny white flower with orange stalk. This plant was behind the temple and a garland made of this flower ever adorned the deity there.

As usual, this event made me think of many other trivial things that remind us of things we do not give time to think about.

Every time it starts to rain, I look up to see the drops fall between the branches and I get relocated to Bandipur National Forest where one of our teams outing was. And that leads me to have a fast forward view of many other good memories I've had when it rained, like the first time I had to eat ice cream when it rained and how I fell in love with it and made it a habit to yearn for ice creams when it rained heavily.

Just on another hot day, the zephyr took up a role of a mild wind and started a small whirlpool of dry sand and with it all the tiny things on the ground. This brought back memories of my early exploring days in my dad's village.

A good smelling barotta ( thats how the layered paratta is called in my place) takes me instantly to the small food stall near my school. Believe me.. even time I've yummy barottas, I remember the days when dad used to cheer me up by getting it from that shop.

A cool frenzied breeze hits my hair and I recall a beautiful evening in the Injambaakam beach behind the Sai temple. A rounded pebble or shell makes me get into the time machine & travel to either Rameshwaram or Kanyakumari. Any chocolate wrapper brings back the days when there was promotional offers of bring back 5 wrapper and take one candy free or making characters out of the wrappers by folding it in fans and placing a knot in the middle. Looking at the full moon brings back a a smile as I remember how I told a long lost friend that I wanted him to see the moon while I was talking to him over phone, telling how though miles apart we still saw things the same way, etc etc.

I can't claim that I only recollect only sweet incidents. Sometimes those bitter emotions of the past come up to the throat like bile. Life is but a two sided coin that adds value to the journey called 'existence'.

OK... thats it for now. I don't want to keep elaborating more on this. If this article helped you remember tiny such things that trigger long forgotten memories, I'd feel honored for that and very happy if you leave a piece of that memory in the 'Thoughts Expressed' option below.

Books! I dunno if I ever told you this, but books are the greatest gift one person can give another.

noreply@blogger.com (Shree) — Mon, 02 Jun 2008 10:03:00 +0000

Each moment that you are happy is a gift to the rest of the world. And books make me happy.

Back in school, I had access to the library at school and to read the books recommended by teachers and thus they gifted me another new world. Thanks to my wonderful dad as well who gifted me a membership at a private lending library to read all the books that caught my mind and a subscription to RD magazine for more than a decade now. Wish I had the sense to retain all those books, since back then.

Completed school days… lending library closed out… and my reading spree reduced to a great extent until I knew some girls in my college class read books too… but I ended up reading all those the stupid M&B and Silhouette books and very few good publishes. Reading all those M&Bs made me think that all handsome doctors fell in love with the nurse and all CEOs with their secretaries, got married and lived happily ever after. I used to feel sad that having taken up Math as my major in college, I would never become a nurse or a secretary in this life :(. Then there was this Sidney Sheldon’s fan image you have got to have. If you have not read them as a being from Venus, then you are not worth calling yourself a literature fanatic.

Having friends with similar interests is a boon… at least when it comes to reading a lot of books… just so that you could share the books and save a lot of money ;)

Sasi was one such person who liked books… not exactly the kind I was used to, but then I am really glad she introduced me to Om Sri Hari Puthar (my way of pampering Harry Potter).

Then comes Sansu* (name changed to protect privacy :D) with all the qualities of a prefect (courtesy HP) who could suggest, lend and later gift very good books too. I read books to remind myself that books are fun and of course, to keep my imaginations alive.

My love for books got revived in Pune when I got to live with Anjum for 5 long months, for a project. Every minute of my time outside work was devoted to the VAST collection of books she had. Thanks to her… I never realized until then about how much I missed the divine moments alone with the books.

Now, most of my friends with a flare for books are not very near to me physically. But, the fires that they helped rekindle keeps me reading everyday… rain or shine.

This month’s books craze shopping got me 4 books and got all of them as gifts from our favourite book store Blossom Book House in Brigade Road, Bengaluru (Sansu introduced me to this place). To me, its the only good place in that zone, next only to nothing. I would recommend any book lover to try this rocking place.

The books that I got by luring my friend were...

1. The Name is Rajini Kanth – Dr. Gayathri Srikanth

2. Silence of the Lambs – Thomas Harris

3. Message in a Bottle – Nicholas Sparks

4. Men are from Mars and Women are from Venus – John Gray - (Borrower is yet to return it).

I know this month is going to be fun with all the reading... Shree is all set to enjoy her days with her best friends.

Anyone who says they have only one life to live must not know how to read a book. ~Author Unknown

noreply@blogger.com (Shree) — Tue, 27 May 2008 10:57:00 +0000

Reading between lines and frames :)

I’m very famously infamous among my friends for the speed in which I read any of my books. I always knew that it is because I cherish each word in the story I read before moving to the next. But somehow, when I read academic books back in school & college or even now when I read some techie stuff to keep myself updated, I can literally see the pages fly off very soon. Am really not sure if I did read anything on this techie pages, let alone actually learn from that intellectual stuff.

I got to see this beautiful movie ‘The bridges of Madison County’ last year. Cherished every single frame of the movie. It is about a true love story that went unnoticed while the couple lived and made history after their death. No… am not going to write a review on that.
Last month, I got lucky to find that book (original print) in an Old Book Stall in Coimbatore. When I read the book, I felt the characters come alive and felt the movie repeat telecast to me. I was able to visualize every move of the people in the book. This, I thought was because I had already seen the movie.

“Not so fast”, said my heart, “this is what you do with all the books you read. That is the reason you take forever to finish a book”. I realize its the truth. May be everyone read by imagining the characters do the opera for them when they read any book. But to me, my heart and mind waits until even the back drop and the music match to the text that dances in front of my eyes. May be that’s the reason I take so long to read.

The same happened with me when I read ‘Love in the Time of Cholera’ (Waiting for a chance to see this movie as well, to see if the visuals are as good as my imagination). The story was set in a time period similar to ‘Gone with the Wind’. Trust me… it took me nearly 2.5 weeks to complete the book with all this imaginations draining my energy :) This is what I would call ‘Reading between lines and frames’. I wanted the whole frame to be ready before I could let the characters do anything next. But it is really fun to read it this way. By the way, did I tell you, my great buddy Jesh introduced me to the classics like Gone with the Wind & Bridges. I wish more such recommendations come from him.

If one has the patience and love for imagination, I think everyone should try this. Only advice is, if you had borrowed the book from a friend, foe or a lending library… try to increase the pace of the creative thinking, finish the book without damaging it and PLEASE return it.

To me Books are my Best Friends.

God!!! We Survived

noreply@blogger.com (Shree) — Fri, 21 Mar 2008 11:04:00 +0000

Guilty as Charged… But never on parole :)

I came across a post in a Discussion Forum reading 'TO ALL THE KIDS WHO SURVIVED the 1930's 40's, 50's, 60's and 70’s!!'

It was all about kids born before 1980 and the joy they felt as born-free humans. I noticed that it was not just me who very often pondered over the memories of childhood (like kolam, bicycle masti, etc).

It is so true that we were more crazy than the kids we see the since the past two decades.

The post had a lot of memories listed down... the few that reminded me of my own childhood are here...

* First, we survived being born to mothers who smoked and/or drank while they carried us, giving a chance to our children to be proud that their mother too didn't smoke or drink.

* We had no childproof lids on medicine bottles, doors or cabinets and when we rode our bikes, we had no helmets, not to mention, the risks we took talking to strangers.

* As children, we would ride in cars with no seat belts or air bags, just in case someone gave us a car ride.

* We drank water from the garden hose and NOT from a bottle.

* We shared one soft drink with four friends (pitching in everyone's weekend allowance of 1re each), from one bottle and NO ONE actually died from this.

* We ate cakes and real butter and drank soda pop with sugar in it, but we weren't overweight because WE WERE ALWAYS OUTSIDE PLAYING!

* We would leave home in the morning and play all day, as long as we were back when the streetlights came on.

* No one was able to reach us all day. And we were O.K.

* The one photo session day in school was one of the most hated days of the year but still we got our uniforms pressed for the great day.

* We did not have Playstations, Nintendo's, X-boxes, no video games at all, no 99 channels on cable, no video tape movies, no surround sound, no cell phones, no personal computers, no Internet or Internet chat rooms..........WE HAD FRIENDS and we went outside and found them!

* We fell out of trees, got cut, broke bones and teeth and there were no lawsuits from these accidents. Most often, our friends became the doctors treating us ;).. Lest parents knew about it

* We made up games with sticks and rubber balls and although we were told it would happen, we did not put out very many eyes.

* We rode bicycles or walked to a friend's house and knocked on the door or rang the bell, or just walked in and talked to them!

* This generation has produced some of the best risk-takers, problem solvers and inventors ever!

* We had freedom, failure, success and responsibility, and we learned HOW TO DEAL WITH IT ALL!

And if YOU are one of them… CONGRATULATIONS!

I wish our kids would get a glimpse of the funny, cranky life we had and know what they actually missed. I bet my life to the fact that all the latest gadgets available could never show them the bliss we experienced years back.

If you remember such events from the past and that which are hard to see in today’s world… do drop a few lines about them. I know each one of you are thinking about them with a smile on your lips .. :)

I love walking down the street and seeing faces and drama and happiness and sadness and dirt and cleanliness.

noreply@blogger.com (Shree) — Thu, 06 Mar 2008 05:47:00 +0000

Yesterday I was hurrying to catch my office bus when I noticed the huge trees on the 100ft road in Indira Nagar getting a trimming. When I say huge trees and trimming… I want you to imagine the magnitude. Thank God, it was just a grooming business that happened and not a complete destruction of the being that has seen more generations pass by than any human. I was wondering what it would feel like to get on top of those trees and do the task of chopping it off.

All said & done, who clears the mess that was left behind. This blog is not about cutting or planting trees. Today I write about the people whose life keeps haunting me since the day I started working in Chennai. My job there required me to start to office by 6.50am…when the city was just waking up and prepare for the bright day ahead.

My hostel was just around the normally very busy area of Adayar where people of all working class flock together. The few minutes I wait for the first bus to go to my office will remain ever green in my memories. The bus stop was just opposite to a Hindu temple and adjacent to a mosque. The heart melting music from the temple and the verses read in the Dharga failed to impress me over the other sound that fell as music to my ears.

It was the sound of the brooms of the street sweepers. I bet no one is as dedicated and patient like these people who do this not very pleasing job. Of course, they have taken up this job for feeding their family. In their hardship, I saw the gods I failed to see in any of the holy places.

The area I’m talking about has lots of petty food joints and Biriyani centers. With no proper garbage disposal system, the road corners become the major dumping zone for all the wastages. The stink & the mess would make anyone to puke if they stay there for more than few minutes. The workers I saw every morning cleaning up these mass looked more pious to me than Mother Teresa. But by the end of the day, it is back to square one.

In Bengalooru too, I push myself to work in the IT sector after having a glimpse of these divine beings every morning. Few of the regular cleaners see me almost everyday as I rush to work and know me too, that we smile at each other and move on.

After knowing the life of these people, I vow to myself every now & then not to litter & pollute my surroundings… but habits die hard. My attempts to store the biscuit/ chocolate wrappers, bus tickets, etc until I find a garbage bin have failed 50% of the times. I know am not a perfect citizen… but am still trying to help stop pollution. I wish you would too :)

Certainly this is a duty, not a sin. "Cleanliness is indeed next to godliness."