Epicure - today's word.

- The one that describes me to the dot. Here's the dictionary definition - courtesy Merriam-Webster.


epicure
ep·i·cure
Pronunciation:
\ˈe-pi-ˌkyu̇r\
Function:
noun
Etymology:
Epicurus
Date:
1565
1archaic : one devoted to sensual pleasure : sybarite2: one with sensitive and discriminating tastes especially in food or wine
synonyms epicure , gourmet , gourmand , gastronome mean one who takes pleasure in eating and drinking. epicure implies fastidiousness and voluptuousness of taste. gourmet implies being a connoisseur in food and drink and the discriminating enjoyment of them. gourmand implies a hearty appetite for good food and drink, not without discernment, but with less than a gourmet's. gastronome implies that one has studied extensively the history and rituals of haute cuisine.

Vanity.

I am sure this is a repeat title, but it just has to be:-)
The first thing remarkable I noticed about my appearance or the first thing remarkable about my appearance that got me noticed rather - was my jet black, lush, long hair. I wore my hair in two lengths ever since I grew out of that semi-bald toddler look my mom so fondly remembers - Long and very long. There was an occasional self-style that I treated myself to and chopped inches off of the long mane, not just to look good, but to experience the satisfaction of making a pair of scissors cut through a mass of hair, but other than that, I wore it long. Until recent past nothing has changed much about the hair in question. Of course, it succumbed to the flipping pages of the calendar and reached the medium density level, but the hue remains jet black - naturally occurring jet black that is!
So, in the frenzy of re-inventing myself for my daughter's first b'day and compensating for the unlost post-preg-paunch, I took a drastic step , followed my horribly off fashion intuition and got my hair chemically straightened. Now, did some one say not to improve on things that don't need improvement? I was probably grooving to a Rahman tune with my iPod earphones plugged in and I missed listening to that piece of advice. It was pure bliss, none the less, since there was zero frizzy, zero work for my gently and rarely used hair dryer and it was a lazy lady's answer to the prayer said to banish bad hair days! And then - the real enemy arrives, slowly but surely!
The roots.... Wavy ones. And my hair took no time in transforming from manageable to menace. And, then - then, I had to listen to my kind of in sync fashion intuition and cut my hair short, Not Demi Moore or even Katie Holmes short, but below the shoulder short. The cute young stylist form Juice or B Blunt - I don't remember, convinced me to go shorter, but being the dominant female species I am, said no in a way he could not dare to convince me anymore:-))
Walking out of B Blunt (or Juice - both were so adjacent and my brother actually booked the appt) I felt like a blend of Kareena Kapoor and Preity Zinta and really loved the way my hair shun the split personality with half slick straight and half naturally wavy hip length hair.
I should have left it at that. But no, I didn't! The shoulder length got a little longer and I being the impulsive, adventurous, free spirit I am, ventured into the UN-comfort zone and on a whimsy, cut my hair above shoulder - Just in a justification that I always wanted to wear my hair Demi Moore short ever since my husband's cousin and My cousin's hubby (both different ppl BTW) thought I looked like her ten years and thirty pounds ago!
So, from Hip long to Shoulder short, my journey through the hair style roller coaster offered me all the thrill, apprehension and nervousness expected of a roller coaster ride from a non-thrill seeker like Moi. I think the Kapoors and Zintas are now replaced with the very awkward, "Before" Kajol in KKHH. The plain vanilla hip length braid that swayed like a simple pendulum is now feathery short, tomboyishly dense and slips through the scrunchy that attempts to hold it all together. It rips me off of my identity, my Indianness, my feeling of comfort when I hold the roots of my long braid and coil it into a neat bun at the nape of my neck while vacuuming and doing dishes. The hair is gone, it'll come back soon...but what about my comfort? Well looks like it has to wait too....or may be, I'd lead my life way too much in the comfort zone and a part of me is liking the risk I'd taken. Or may be not!
May be I wont be noticed for my hair any more. Will that make me be noticed for -say - my lack of hair??? No idea. But I really wanted to kick the ass of that know all, self proclaimed professional beautician i ran into that asked me, in her horribly false put on accent, to look at pictures before getting a hair cut the next time around (Like I am moron enough to entrust my hair to a stylist and ask her to have the time of her life chopping it off!). I think that her hair style sucks BTW...and this blog is hereby rated PG 13. Wait, not the whole collection, just this one - and may be a few more!

Time to sleep - and miss the coil of my crowning glory. Ahh....should've used that as the title!
ha ha ha......

The End!

When I was in primary school, I had great regard for our Telugu teacher Mr. Murthy - Mr. Murthy, the funny, intelligent and sensible teacher of all. He always had witty one liners and quirky comeback lines that I use on people till date. I often found myself admiring his insight into life.
One day, he wrote a quote on the black board which read "The end of Education is Character." I was in sixth grade and the word character didn't mean anything profound to me. One day I watched a tear jerker Telugu movie aired on Doordarshan and wondered why the leading lady would not accept the silent-admirer colleague who comes to her rescue when her abusive husband and her lover who promises her to bail her out of the situation ditch her. I asked my mom "Why doesn't she accept his love and live happily ever after?" My mom replied in the voice of a true, blue blooded Indian woman that the integrity of the Heroine's character loses its charm if she accepts and goes away with anyone that crosses her way! Of course, at eleven, it didn't make any sense to me as to why the story should end on a sad note when this lady finally finds a man that loves her for who she is. But the word 'character' loomed loud and big in my head.
So - is character suffering when you can be happy? Is character about making the right choices, saying the right words and doing the right things to make yourself and the people around you happy? Why did the know all Mr. Murthy say that the end of Education is Character? These were a few questions that crossed my ever inquisitive pre-teen mind.
So, back to education, whose end I am about to discuss with my august company - the world wide web. I had a conversation with someone this afternoon and we discussed a problem another person we both know is having bringing up her kid who is being spoilt rotten by her hubby. The hubby - the sweetest, most sensible guy you'd ever meet does all the right things for his family and does too much of what he perceives as right things for his daughter - by giving in to her every request, demand and order. It seems he even teaches her the right stuff - takes interest in her academics and inculcates in her a reading habit probably to help her find her way to an Ivy league school in future. From how grave the child's behavioural problem appears, I told my friend I was speaking to that no matter where the child goes to study and no matter what degree she brings home - if her perspective is not in check, she'll be miserable the way she is being brought up.
I have seem smarty pants who are quiet immature in day to day situations and high school drop outs who sound more mature and learned than your average Phd professor. So, what is education all about and how are educated lot going to fare better than their uneducated brothers and sisters? Will attending a prestigious school change the way you think? Will it put your perspective in place, will it make you more sensible, more sensitive? I Believe not!
Education does not end where 4.0 GPAs begin. It does not end when Certificates of Merits are awarded in fancy graduation ceremonies. It certainly doesn't with a big fat paycheck. In fact, it only begins there. True education should offer us lessons about perspective, about arranging our priorities, about perception of right from wrong. True education should teach us how to carry ourselves, how to say the right words, how to treat people below us, how to stand firm and tall in the face of hindrances, how to respect others for what and who they are and how to live our lives in a way that positively impacts us and the people around us. All that perhaps sum up into the single word Mr. Murthy used a couple of decades ago. A word that concludes education. A word spelled "Character"

Confusion.

The arcade
Looks like an open circuit
Form the front window of my car.
Like monochromatic, illuminated Lego blocks
Arranged with mathematical precision.
The parked cars look like they might overflow
Onto the busy streets.
People don't really make an appearance there.
They are there, but they are not conspicuous.
People - young parents, older couples,
High school kids and Security personnel
Armed with the clink of coins
Disguised as neatly folded dollar bills
And tiny slick credit cards -
Loiter around - peeping through the enticing window displays
That beckon to them
Promising happiness in the form of
A brand new dress, Kitchen Gadget, Curio trinket
Or updated makeup.
The clink of coins bounce back and forth
Through numerous hands and cash counters.
The inconspicuous people,
The innocent, inconspicuous people,
Rush there, armed with what they perceive as the paved way to happiness,
Peace of mind, satisfaction, gratification
Exchange coins
In a desperation, passion, obsession
To find
One thing, perhaps more than one thing!
The only thing my peepers see
Through the freshly washed front window of my car is
A crystal clear, conspicuous, careless
Confusion.

Okay, this should have been prose! LOL.

Glass bubbles.

While enjoying a scoop of cake batter ice cream and admiring Marie Osmond's after pictures in Nutrisystem pop up ad, It stuck to me that I have a ponder about - no, not weight loss anymore - but about a thing or two about parenting, sportsman spirit and dealing with disappointments in life.
Aarti's third birthday celebration was totally unplanned until last afternoon. I decided that I'd finally had to throw a mini birthday party for her just to keep up my word. So I decided to gather a few girls in the neighborhood and plan for a high on merry low on money princess party. A part of the high on merry thing was the plan to crown the best dressed princess of the evening.
I informed all the moms that there would be a "best-dressed princess" title and prize to be won and all girls should come prepared:-)
It all was received with much enthusiasm till a mom I spoke to this evening sounded skeptical about the idea over the phone. "I think the other girls would get disappointed" she said. For just a flash of a second, I reconsidered my decision to name a best-dressed little girl but then I thought - is it really a good thing to shield our babies form disappointments? I mean, in the bigger picture, the whole world runs on a choice of the best in the perspective of the person or group making the choice and all of us cannot be winners. So what if one of the little girls really outdoes the rest of them? Can we teach our kids to recognise excellence in all fields and appreciate it? Can we - instead of telling them that they are the best, show them how to gracefully accept not being on the top and strive to reach there and also appreciate the ones who are ahead of them?- be it playing dress up or solving algebra problems? I think we can. We should. We cannot put our children in glass bubbles and show them only victories and no loses, smiles and no tears and Achievements and no disappointments? Can we in the long run promise them only the best life has to offer? And will they really appreciate winning without losing and achievements without pains?? So , I really think I'll bring up Aarti teaching her to accept herself the way she is and bending and accepting defeat when the situation demands. If she ever has a sibling I'd love to teach her and her sibling that life will never offer them the same things and thus, I cannot buy both of them shoes or clothes because I am buying it for one of them and the other might get disappointed or might feel that I love their sibling more. Nay, never so. I think I need to do things only on an as needed basis and raise them secure enough to understand that being in a glass bubble that Shields them form disappointments will not take them anywhere. Now, there might be arguments that a three year old might not need to face all the brutal truths of life right away...but what can a child accept in future if she cannot accept sharing a toy or calling someone else better dressed? Yeah, there will be yelling and shouting, perhaps tears but eventually there will be peace within themselves and in their surroundings.
So, should we not all prepare our children to gear up and compete and nurture a sportsman spirit in them? may be we should. I certainly should and I will start it by picking the genuinely best dressed little girl on Aarti's big day!

Finding voice.

All day today, I'd been jumping form one random blog to another. Some talked about memories of large cities, some about atrocities on women, some about the so called resilience of Mumbai which is actually helpless, some about ample bosoms and some about fashion fauxpaus. The more I dug into people's style of writing and pattern of thinking, I was coming back ponder on my own style and pattern. I once told my friend that I can recognise the music director if I listen to a song (based on the style of the song and the instruments used) and I actually do a pretty impressive job identifying them. Rahman usually has unusual instruments cutting through the flow of the song( Remember the harmonium in 'kehna hai kya - Bombay'? ) Anu Malik has a variation of the tune (or lyric) repeat thru the composition and Illiyaraja is all about electronic instruments, chirping of birds and sheer melody. Music needs a mention here since I'd long associated all forms of expression to creating music - Every person has his style, his own signature and his own melody that chimes in with the words and actions. I'd seen that most females my age are passionate about ponders with a cause - The ones that question social norms and rediclue stereotypes. At some point, I was really not sure if the profound voices lead to profound thoughts as well or vice-versa. So... how exactly are we supposed to find our voices, the features, the pseudo physical form of our communication? Is it difficult to establish a personality for a two-dimensional communication or does pausing at the break of sentence or stressing on the right word change our voice (things that are not possible when one types one's thoughts on to a virtual screen or writes on a piece of paper!) I sometimes find it difficult to imagine what a person must be feeling when typing say, a general scrap on Orkut or writing wall to wall on facebook if they do not say something like :-) or :-O or :-( at the end of what they type unless it is a obviously happy, sad or mad statement. These emoticons have become the voice of WWW connection. K seems to end her blogs with powerful questions and statements. The ones that justify her powerful topics. S has found a juvenile voice and talks about the Doc that could have kissed her the first time :-)) S seems to be so attached to his Bubin and all the blogs invariably end with Bubin said this, did that, laughed at this and grinned at that! No complaints here - Bubin became his voice. That's all - And it really is cute. I neither know or read enough about Josh, Kiara, Crimson or Lisa , the random bloggers to comment about the voice they have found. I for once, seem to be in a creative spasm but I keep on going in circles sometimes. Like I'd said in my recent attempts to write poetry, I have so many flashes that have the potential of finding my very own voice, but they seem to fade as quickly as they appear and I resort to talking about a conversation with Verse, a bout of anger or a search for Zebra print handbag. I think my current genre is 'abstract' or 'confusing' to be more accurate. I think I am safe that way and just camouflage my creativity with confusion or may be it is confusion as creativity. I am sure I am not searching for my voice, but I do hope I find one. Something that can make everyone have a glimpse of what I am feeling when I am typing something - my own abstract DNA, my own, my very own - what was that? Voice - I guess :-))

In Search Of!

What are you looking for?
Verse asked me!
I wore a perplexed expression
And looked back to see if she was talking to someone else.
No - She wasn't.
I was stuck with a question
That hadn't an answer.
A question that wasn't a question at all?
In that very flash of a second, I look within.
For answers, for reasons why I look
Like I am looking for something.
Am I really?
I figured I am.
Verse looks back at me,
Repeats her query
Looking me in the eye.
Her face stern, her mood serious!
Now, I have an answer.
An ambiguous one.
I know I am looking for many things.
How many can I name? None.
Is it peace? Is it identity?
Is it just a little spirituality?
Is it wealth? Is it love?
Tell me how I can answer this. Tell me now!!
May be it is not many a thing.
May be it's just one.
That one thing I wish to find
And put all searches behind.
I search for zebra print bags
And earrings I misplaced.
I search for ways to keep the house clean
I search for instructions to be a mom!
I search for the perfect jeans,
And T shirts with side slits.
And bottle green brocade saris
But all these quests just seem empty.

I still am in search of something
And verse still look at me
With hopes to find an answer.

For now I am in search of an answer!
An answer that can convince her
That I indeed know what I am looking for!!

Unnamed.

Like a volcano
Bubbling to erupt
Something in the stomach churns
Creates a ripple effect.
The heat expands the heart
Spreads to the head
And makes us lose our cool,
Reason.
Makes us unruly beasts
Our tongues utter un-meant words
Our eyes shower ambers of hurt
Anger takes us nowhere.
Just alters us from inside
And changes who we are.
Forgiving Does!

Animation

Transform me, O take me
To an Eneimone or an Apartment in Paris
Over looking the Eiffel.
Make me Remy, the culinary expert
Or Nemo, with the lucky little fin!!
Give me a magical touch
With Gossamer wings and a wand.
Let me make a castle out of normal land.
Fiona's thick long braid
And the Donkey's funny bone
Should transform me into a class of my own.
Let me oh let me be
Timon the meerkat
And make my comedy timing
The talk of the town.
My own little space,
Under the vast blue sky
Limitless, flawless and filled with adventure
Where good prevails
And love wins
And All creatures act like human beings.
Make me a little girl again
Make me simple, make me innocent
Make me a part of the make believe world
Make me carefree -
And as free as can be!

Sly

Tip toeing on dainty feet
Carrying the burden of a mature thought
Like a performer trying to balance
But still looking effortless.
Tip toeing to relieve
Tired winter feet
From the added pressure of a weighty thought -
Shielding the soft flesh
From being extra bruised -
Never knew, thoughts add to weight
And glide to a physical form.

Color

From Crayons to water color cakes
From Spice racks to eyeshadows
From flowers to Birds
From visions to words -
Color colors my every little wish
To express my inmost desires
Be it to create or just admire
The numerous shades that beautify
Every virtual lane my thoughts tread.
Am I just trying to give it in black and white
As to what color means?