Saturday, April 30, 2005

When I have started

....speaking anout photographic memory, Why shoul'dnt I just go ahead and recite (read type) a poem from my third grade??
Thanks Sr. gracy, your teachings prove effcetive after so long ( I do't want to mention how long, in fear of feeling old)

Little fairy comes at night,
Her eyes are blue , her hair is brown
With silver spots upon her wings
And from the moon she flutters down

She has a little silver wand
And when a good child goes to bed,
she waves her wand from right to left
And makes a circle over her head.

And then it dreams of pleasant things
Of fountains filled with fairy fish
And trees that bear delecious fruits
And bow their branches at a wish

Or aurbors filled with densy secnts
From lovely flowers that never fade
Broght flies glitter in the sun
Glow worms shining in the shade
Or talking birds with gifted tongues
For singing songs and telling tales.

Does the ending seem absurd? I wish there was a way to double check how well I remember the poem.
I should add that the line "Or aurbors filled with densy secnts" makes a lot more sense to me know, after knowing what an arbor actually is.

Maggie cuts her hair.

Any ICSE students who passed out ICSE during 1992-1998 will know what I am talking about.
I do not have a photographic memory, but Maggie, straignt from my seventh grade english text, was a living, breathing character for me back then.
"maggie cuts her hair" was an exerpt form a book called "The Mill on the Floss" by George Eliot. I wish I'd remembered the actual name of the author. George Eliot is her (yes, HER) psudonym.
So Maggie and her Brother tom and a bunch of aunts and uncles and her dad came into my life one pleasant morning. Our english teacher Ms. S taught us the lesson in an unforgettable way. This little girl maggie attempts to cut her hair(and actually succeeds with the help of her Brother Tom) She just does it not to look good or anything, She does it for validation, for making her uncles and aunts and her family think that she was clever.
I realted to Maggie. I probably did a lot of things for validation, for approval and for impressing others. Does everyone do it or is it just me??
Anyhows, Maggie left an impression on me. I still remember her form late early 90s and I think I will for sometime to come.
Now I know what I need to read next - "The Mill On the Floss" by George Eliot.
I know it is going to stir a lot of childhood memories, and that should probably generate a lot of nostalgic blogs.
Maggie sets her impression on a 12 year girl, long enough to sustain it through her twenties, by just cutting her hair. I wish it were that simple to make a lasting impression on someone's mind.

Cheek bones.

I read it in Allure this week about creating the illusion of cheekbones. Then I see some actress on TV wondering how to get her cheekbones "exposed" she sucks her cheeks in a pouts..but the coveted cheekbones fail to appear on her chubby cheeks. Then I read reviews about the oscars and somebody opines that Gwyneth paltrow's face is not as angled as it was before (from her post partom weight gain)
Ok, so what is it about cheekbones? Is it really as "in" as cleavage or botox infused lips?? Well, Then I see Malika arora Khan on the small screen, performing a steamy item number with our very own Shahrukh khan and the thing that stood out in her was not her pencil thin bod or her scandalous outfit. CHeekbones ofcourse! Her brown face looks so enigmatic with a sharply curved jawline and Cheek bones. She did'nt have to suck her cheeks in. She just had to purse her lips and pout. Lo and behold, you see one of the classic faces that had graced the silver screen. (I somehow find her teeth funny though! Ya, Jealousy thy name is woman)
Waheeda Rehman, Demi moore and Liz hurley are some names that come to mind when I think cheekbones. They really do make a difference and that's why they are so in.
I look at my five year old snap in search of cheekbones, I find them and actually find myself a lot more defined than I am today with my full face.
Next time I see someone striking somewhere, I'm sure to look for that angle, that structure that makes anyone's face a piece of art. If I have to look for them on my face, I better read Allure again.

Friday, April 29, 2005

On starting somewhere.

Have been lazy for the past four days. I did something else instead of what I was supposed to be doing. Have just painted my nails. I rediscovered a shade from my nailpolish stash. The one that I thought would be too garrish on me a couple of months ago. This one looks like my holy grail color , the one that is neutral, sophisticated and matches all my moods and outfits. For a change I am stacking a couple of diamond rings on my left hand and after trying that bare Escentuals hand creme in ULTA, I think, I really have diamond ready hands. I am so much for neutral nail colors.
Speaking of colors I always thought pink is My color, and probably white too. I get more compliments when i am in pink and or white. I should make a conscious effort to incorporate these colors into my wardrobe.
I looked at Max the other day, (when he put his 100 ponds on my feet and asked me to pat him. He looked majestic with his chocolate fur and auburn eyes) trying to find a perfect word to describe his color. Well, how can a chocolate lab be described, other than the word chocolate. I duuno. But I want to find another way of describing his deep hue. I think he is such a handsom guy.
I look at the hollyhocks in the backyard, blooming with rigor, Their color can be described as a burgundy maroon. I look at them and think of describing them differently. Probably calling them the color of afully ripe pomogranate seeds or red wine that I tasted in the vinery the other day.
How can I describe the color of the lawn in our front yard for instance, ya, Green ofcourse. But I really want to find another way of describing it, something that captures the true essence of grass. Just not able to do it due to lack of creativity.
Am trying to describe the colors of some glimmers and glimpses for terry. I hope I'll be able to do a good job ( I need to get over the writer's block before I can attempt in the first place)
Trying to describe the Beetle CD player I have on my computer desk now. It is a bright matte yellow for most of us. For me it is palomino. Don't ask me what that means. It is the exact color of the palomino Dooney and Bourke hand bag I own and never use, in fear of ruining it.
Well, well, well, I wrote today and that is what matters. I just read my blog and am surprised at all the non sense I'd writeen. I think I am capable of it, well, I just proved it to myself and that is a reason enough to believe that I am capable of it.

Monday, April 25, 2005

Have a hunch.....

For all things positive. I have seen somuch of positivity today in a dear friend's life that I am convinced that this is the start of a series of positive things in progress.
Let's see if my tarot cards are telling the truth:-)

Sunday, April 24, 2005

Lest you be judged.

Was immensely irritated by all the judgements M passed this noon. Boy, when will people grow up???
People grow up, grow up!!! It is time you did.

On winning and losing.

S comes home with a long face, obviously disappointed about the lost cricket match. He was blaming the umpire.
Sweet lil S, I believe you when you say so, but why are we not mature enough to accept defeat with grace????
(reminds me of how I though my Geography teacher Ms.Shilpa was partial towards a particular guy in the class which made me second in performance all the time:-, but hello, that was fifteen years ago!!!)))

On the exitement of......

....Recognising a composition as rag Kedar and actually being right abou it. The thing to feel proud about is that I remember a couple more songs that are based on this raag. Achievement enough to feel better about myself. I am taking music much more seriously now. Mrs. M, here I come!!!

On love of music.

Music had been an integral part of my being. My memories of singing go back to my preschool days. Thought I never knew or have any documented evidence of how well I sang, I for sure know that I was'nt very bad at it.
My breif stint of learning carnatic music started when I was twelve and ended when I was twelve and a half. At the risk of blowing my own trumpet, I should say my teacher was considerably impressed by the way I sing. Inspite of liking music and singing jingles and movie songs seriously ,I never felt drawn towards learning music as an art form.
My music teacher, an old man who walked with a hump, had a full head of white hair that almost resembled that of Pope Benedict paired with a non chalant face. His lessons were precise and professional but he was'nt animated or articulate about what he thought. His compliments were bland though his complaints were straight forward and outright rude. Needless to say this man was an ordeal that I went thru three days of a week. One day, amma probably thought she was forcing me and told me to stop learning if I wished to stop.
The following class, I went to him and told him that I was quitting. He rigorously shook his head and said okay and left without giving me a chance to react. No matter how much I hated sitting thru the class, I was disappointed by the way he walked out, not caring to ask me why I was quitting!!!
I never knew what I quit until after a decade.
The silver jubilee year of my life made me make some decisions to commemmorate it. Some wise and some foolish ones. The foolish decision was that I decided to get my ears double pierced and the wise decision was that I decided to pursue music as an art form.
The teacher I went to was nothing like the teacher I learnt carnatic music. She is an articulate lady who makes animated conversations and made Hindustani music look like a cake walk. She shows her approval with smiles and narrates interesting anecdotes about a particular raga or composition. I have realiesd that music is a natural part of me and I look at it as a form of self expression. I sing while doing laundry, while cooking, while gardening, in the shower and while I am doing daily chores. I listen to music all the time and am doing that even when I am writing this blog. I am convinced that quitting my carnatic class 12 years ago was one of the biggest bloopers of my life. I look back at my life in a "what if" mode.
What if I had continued learning with that old man???
I'd have learnt for 5-6 years of my life, dedicating a major part of it to learn, practise and master the nuances of classical music. I'd have enriched my life, felt the theraputic influences of music on my life, I'd have been a better person, more assured of what I am and what I want, I'd have had the satisfaction of doing someting worthwhile with the most important years of my life and ofcourse I'd have sung like my little sister, sometimes for an audience and sometimes for myself. I'd have also, probably, influenced my peers to experience the magi of music.
It pains my heart to see the five year old student who comes to learn Hindusatani. I am just about two decades late, but I am glad that I did'nt make it any more late than what it was.