Day 4 - Quote

Forgiving saves the expense of anger, the cost of hatred and the waste of energy - Unknown.

Day 4 - keeping in touch.

The world wide web is the greatest invention of all ( may be the second greatest since I need to grant it to the Wright Brothers for the greatest invention ever -just a personal opinion open for argument! LOL) since it shrunk the world into a little neighborhood. All I need to do is punch a few keys and I am shooting across an instant message to my sister in Mumbai and gathering all kinds of information from all sorts of sources and shopping for missed souvenirs in a Venice based e-commerce site. Cool. Huh? But what is it about those letters that have ironed folds tucked away some where in a shoe box, as a trophy to the bygone days? The letters with yellowing corners and scratched handwritings feels like an emotional DNA of the people that mean a lot to me. Each letter presents to me a drug like ecstasy and transforms me into my childhood days. I rediscover feelings felt, joys experienced and friendships made and forgotten, buried under the debris of growing up.

Most importantly, it presents to me the effort each and every one of them carry with them and the anticipation, love and affection that was communicated from the sender to the receiver and back. I had a stash of stationery and stamps that were replenished at regular intervals. I spent a small fortune on cards - cards that conveyed sorrys, thank yous, love yous and thinking about yous. Each important occasion was marked in my agenda. I didn't miss any one's birthdays or important holidays and New years. The cards were mushy, the messages long and the time effort and cost involved were cumbersome (for a child/teenager's pocket) and that is probably the best investment I'd made in myself and my people. Today, snail mail stands as a testimonial of love, patience and caring. For the New Year, I made a few quick calls to my immediate family and chilled. Then it came to me like a flood - the great event of buying New Year cards to every one in the family and friends list. The pain to look for apt descriptions that would reflect my feelings for the receiver and the corresponding verses that I'd write to make them more personal. Then I logged into my numerous email accounts and wanted to send a group email to all my friends. Shamefully enough, some of them were long out of touch and I thought I'd be uncomfortable to pop out a random, generic New year wish. So, I looked through the list and sent messages to friends that mean a lot to me. I wrote clumsy little messages - but I made an attempt to detechnicalize myself and make an effort to tell them that they were in my thoughts - and that I think beyond me myself and my blood.

My friend Avi calls me on my b'day every year. It doesn't matter if he's in Timbuktu, or laid off or broke - he calls me. He speaks a couple of sentences but the impact lasts till my next b'day. Relationships are a great thing. Love is what bounds them. Effort is what keeps them alive. I hope we can all take a moment in our lives and ask after our old friends, send them little messages for major occasions and keep the thread of love strong. It need not be laborious snail mails and mushy messages - as I've said the Internet reduced the planet to a cozy neighborhood and if you are out of contact with people in your contact list - something is seriously wrong with that picture.

Day 3 - Holding on, letting go!

My expandable trinket bag was a pretty peacock blue, with a full blown peacock feather on the front and a zipper that expanded it from half inch to 4 inches to tote toiletries, hair bands, travel supplies etcetera. The inside had a mesh pocket opening in the center and a flap with loops for lip glosses, tooth brush, q tips and such. I was very fond of it. Enough to have hid it from the eyes of my niece who seems to have my kind of fetish for all girly things. She kept asking for it time and again and I kept postponing saying I'd give it to her once I head back home - secretly hoping she'd forget about the bag by the time I make that homeward bound trip.

But she didn't forget. And I had to let go of my pretty bag, albeit forcefully.

During my last trip to India, I had a similar situation with my mom except that I was in the receiving end. I insisted and fought to bring home with me a cute little gift box containing ylang ylang incense, patchouli and Jasmine scented candles sculpted into pretty little roses and miniature incense holder with hand painted elephants rising their trunks - sounds pretty. Isn't it? And the box in question migrated from my sister's stash to my mothers, so fairly enough my mom resisted giving it to me but finally gave in.

We all seem to have things we cannot let go of - favorite bags, junk jewelry, collectibles or even less valuable day to day stuff like our magazines and Tupperware that you use to send the neighbor your homemade cookies. We all seem to get attached to non living things like our houses, clothes and stuff and overlook the broader spectrum of things that actually matter like a little girl's smile when she gets a much coveted make up bag or a friend's eyes lighting up when you let her keep the handbag she borrowed.

I saw the Movie 'UP" where Mr. Fredricksen, a balloon salesman, uproots his whole house in search of an unfulfilled adventure he plans with his deceased wife. Finally he takes a U turn, loses his home and his dream adventure to unite a giant bird with her chicks. "It is just a house" He exclaims when his house falls off.

Stuff remains stuff. We don't bring any of it when we come to this world, we shall not carry any back with us. There are things to hold on to, things to let go - and sooner or later what matters the most is how we feel and how we make others feel and not what we have.

Day 2

Why do kids talk so much? Or do I have a specimen on hand??

Aarti seems to have one question after another. Once about rain drops running diagonally across the car window and once about why a certain kid on the street is walking home alone, what his name is, what his mom's name is, where he lives and if he is walking alone since he actually got lost!

It gets a little too much sometimes but I can never figure if it is more of fun or stress to keep listening to the puppy like yapping in the background.

Children talk perhaps, in the process of growing up and understanding the world around them. Then I looked into myself and I realized I am much like my little girl, except my yapping is all in my mind. My mind engages itself in a incessant monologue - once thinking over about what to make for dinner and once to introspect my actions and words. Sometimes it is writing mental blogs and at times it is singing to itself trying to remember a lyric from my teenage years. So the yapping is probably a universal attribute except that we are not as free spirited as a kid to keep talking out loud.

Right now at this very moment, my mind speaks to me, the incessant monologue and asks me how I am going to over come the invisible blocks I see to keep procrastinating my blogging - now that I vowed to write everyday. I just do what I do when Aarti launches her unanswerable questions. "What do you think?" I ask my mind! The answers unfold as I write everyday.

New year wishes.

Here's hoping all good things for all people around the globe - and hoping for the cliched but the much needed World peace.

Aal Izz sooo Well!

It was in late 2007 that I bothered to take the pains of going to the cinema theater and watching a movie - I promptly blogged about the movie since it was Aarti's first movie ever. Two years hence I, once again, bothered to haul my 'movie watching disdaining' butt to the theaters, this time to watch 3 Idiots, and here go the after thoughts.

3 idiots is one of those impromptu decisions. I was expecting to go watch AVATAR in iMax and actually have a couple of tickets tucked away in my sling pack but who knew 3 Idiots would be the first in Q? Actually, till the date of it's release I wasn't even aware of a movie named such. I am still in a positive hang over after the movie, and for the benefit of my readership (if any, ahem), I shall steer around specifics of the move and keep it spoiler free - which in other words means, I want to keep the review as abstract (or confusing if you may!) as possible.

One thing stuck me and kept on bludgeoning me all through the movie - the impossibly young look Aamir Khan, the mid-forty lover boy had. I am sure the rest of the world would agree with me. If age could be defied, Aamir knows how! Could be genes, could be soft focus lenses or could just be healthy choices and yoga and marathons - what ever it is, Mr.Khan makes his Khan counterparts look like chachas and maamas - his ofcourse!

And then goes the story line giving equal footage to all the 3 idiots in question. Sharman Joshi - hope I spelled him right - is a serious kind of an actor - had his last name been Bachchan or Deol, he'd have been the next hottest heir on the block but hopefully, talent would compensate.

Madhavan narrates the story - the look he has for his friend Rancho is priceless - kind of like the look Aarti had for Tinker bell and Peter Pan in Disney Land. Bebo got something wrong - the make up maybe - but who could blame her when she was cast opposite the fountain of Youth? Who could sustain such competition??

Bomman Irani needs a honorable mention - his character is awfully awesome - hats off to Raju Hirani to have conceived Virus and Rancho in his brain.

The music is scored by the guy from Parineeta - he did a good job. Specially with the title number. It aptly described the awe Farhan had for his friend - the only down fall being Aamir's screen presence. It was so strong that despite the powerful characterization of Rancho - all I could see hear and breath during the three hour run time was Aamir and Aamir alone.

Chatur Ramalingam, the new comer, performed like an ace - his distorted speech left the audience in splits. His expression were priceless!

3 Idiots is cinema that can make us proud as the biggest movie industry of the world. It focuses on entertainment while very subtly leaving a pleasant linger of the lesson it tries to impart.

Watch it once, twice, thrice and you'll probably not get enough of it!

Resolution

I have the state of the art Resolution. Not the Mega pixels kind, but the New Year kind that you make and break. I thought I resolved to lose 10 pounds last year. I have 10 more to lose in this one. So I should not bother about that. This year, I officially announce my resolution to blog every day - at least one line.

The commitment to this one is on display to the world wide web brethren. Be curt with your comments. Throw rotten eggs if I don't keep up my word!

LOLZ

And the main message for December the 31st goes -

Wishing all a very happy and wonderful New Year ahead. The clock struck eight - and the cuckoo cooed eight times. So, I, the superstitious gal, would want to take it as a wonderful omen granting good health, joy, luck, success, wealth, peace and such to all my - you get the idea - world wide brethren, family and friends and not just the ones that come here by choice and chance.

:-)

Steel Unicorn - a short story.

Disclaimer - all characters and incidents in this story are a fragment of my fertile imagination - any resemblances to people you know is a coincidence.

SHITTY FIRST DRAFT.

During my summer vacations, I loved playing in the generous yard in our grandfather's cute little bungalow with the humongous sky light - the one that formed in the center of the ceiling of a living room that was kept empty, saving the stool like bench that lay casually on side of the room, rested against the wall. The sky light was like a celebration of the elements though it resembled more of a hole created by an imaginary object falling on the carefully arranged tile roof and the sun, moon, stars and rain sifted themselves through the generous crevices of a cast iron frame. I often looked up at the frame, and wondered what purpose it served. It was definitely not there to stop the elements, nor was it particularly soothing on the eye (ruling out the possibility of an aesthetic) but it was there, like a crater, or a void on an otherwise perfect layout.

I enjoyed sitting there an gazing at the sunlight that haloed into the house - enjoying freshly squeezed mango pulp or reading the children's supplement of the Daily chronicle. Only one thing interrupted my idle thoughts- my uncle - the steel Unicorn. Unicorn was a tall, athletic man. with sinewy lean muscle shrugging on a teenager like body structure. He was a bachelor - a bachelor past prime (especially in Indian standards) at the age of thirty six. There were stories circulating about his bachelorhood - some blamed it on a failed affair though I could not, for the life of me, imagine this grump of a human being ever smiling at someone, let alone falling in love.
Unicorn despised idling, and laughter and gestures of affection. He had a strange nonchalance towards kids of all shapes and sizes, his nephews and niece included. He seldom spoke, except when addressing my grand mom for a second helping of rice or vegetables as she patiently waited at his table during his lunch. Unicorn ate like a bird - daintily picking on the fluffy rice sticking out of the spoon and cleared his plate without wasting a morsel of food.

Once in a while, as I idled away in the sky lighted living room, sitting crisscross applesauce on the stone- tiled floor that was grouted with uneven strips of cement, he used to stop and clear his throat like he wanted me to notice his presence in the room. I used to look up in an attempt to make eye contact - He would briefly look into my eyes and look away and hurry into the dining room to have his lunch.

" She should find better things to do with her time" He would speak to an imaginary being as my grandmother served him his meal "The girl squanders her time away" making sure that the conversation between him and his imaginary friend would be loud enough for me to eavesdrop on.

I was eleven and a half - a gawky little creature in pre-puberty. The aperture between my front teeth bothered me to no end, though the dentist assured my mom that it was just a matter of time that it would disappear. I was in a hurry to get rid of it. Just like I was in a hurry to grow at least a couple inches less as tall as Farah, that middle-eastern looking, drop dead gorgeous, most famous girl from the middle school who, owing to my huge misfortune, shared my class and bench with me. Unicorn scared me - but he intrigued me more than he scared me. I would sit on the bench trying to pronounce the tongue twister of a new word out loud as I'd read the Chronicle and notice Unicorn's shadow and peek at him through the corner of my eyes, still pretending to read. He would clear his throat and glide past me in his awkwardly agile gait.

To be continued.

New reads

The book was on the BN bestseller list for a long time - for a reason. Utterly optimistic and beautifully written. One of those books that you finish off in a go - even if it means you are skimping on your beauty sleep.

The predecessor of a chick-flick romantic comedy. Reading a British author made me realise how Americanized my English became over the past decade. Good for a weekend on a porch. Light heated, cliched - but fun.

The most remarkable thing about the book is the author - who penned it when he was 21 - Ben Shapiro, all of 25 years now is a man with strong values and will, though he came across as a little prejudiced towards the "Democrat" presidents and wannabes. Easy read - thoughtful, thought provoking and relatable to the "Indian" mindset.

You cling to my clothing
Like an extension of my being.
Your smiles and your tantrums
Amuse me to no end.
You fill my house
And my heart with a special light.
You give me happiness
In abundance.

Dress-up.

The other day, when entering into an enthralling retail therapy at walmart to load some daily essentials, I saw an older lady stride gracefully ahead of me - she wasn't your average older lady, may be she was, I am not sure, but she didn't seem like one, or dressed like one I should say. Her pants and tunic were a rich, deep purple, a hue that could put our own Barney the dinosaur's shade to shame - and her hat was an elaborate red, looking like a disguised Christmas tree sitting on carefully curled blond tresses - sequins, feathers and all that. I thought "Red Hat society" and wanted to approach the lady and say a nice thing or two about how gorgeous she looked had it not been for the burden of lugging along a 30 pound toddler on my hip and pushing the over sized cart. There was no way I could keep pace with her without running after her and making her feel stalked.
I gave up glancing longingly at the satchel purse she was carrying on her arm - a basket weave purple and red, made out of the seat belt material that I once saw advertised in a mag as practically indestructible and the current trend.
The lady, the attire and the accessories alerted my like a can of coke and I chanted the name "red hat society" in my mind like it were a mantra.
I give myself a lot of credit for psychic abilities. I was once told by a psychic (no I didn't make this up) that I was like her in a desperate attempt to make me agree to get a reading. I did not cave in By the way! Anyway, the psychic abilities in question are being discussed since the name "Red hat society" was something I'd heard while flipping channels and landed up on the shopping channel which is a very safe and entertaining option for time killing. I heard the show host mention the name red hat society and didn't hang around enough to figure out what it was.
Anyway, this lady, as I'd learned consulting Google later on, is indeed an ostentatiously proud member of the red hat society, a group of older ladies who dress in purple outfits and red hats and meet up for socials. Wikipedia listed the origin and how the society came into being. I was very much amused by the creativity and zeal behind the idea of dressing up like little girls would, in an attempt to pretend play, in a self-reminder sort of way, that no matter how old we get, we always hold on to the child in us. During my initial days in the USA, I was endlessly fascinated by the idea of celebrating Halloween by dressing up and actually going on the streets asking for candy! The whole idea was so out of the box - kind of like something a person like me would think of - spooky, and crazily funny. When I took a stroll on the culde-sac and sported moms and dads in costumes like pirates and Greek princesses, I had a feeling of taking a time machine and going back in time to watch fantasy characters. The whole experience was out of the world and one of a kind.
Dressing up holds a very symbolic meaning to me - unconsciously, we put up an external appearance in a 'look at how I am feeling' sort of way. We dress up for celebrations, dress down for shopping and undress - well, you get the idea - I was talking about showers dirty minds! LOL.

rated pg 13.

Which brings us back to the red hat society. It seems that ladies under 50 need not apply - or may be they could, if they are willing to be under age and wear pink hats.
I wish I had the creativity to think of red bikinis - I meant sarees - or salwars. Okay, forget it:-)) I am happy I have a blog entry which doesn't look like a kid going trick or treating - or so I believe - you are free to disagree ;-))