The setting sun

The beautiful sight, that of sun setting across a largish water body, I saw first in TIFR more than a decade ago. The sequence of spectacular images starting from that of a flaming orange ball at an acute angle which makes the water look as if on fire. Then in the next shot, the flaming orange changes to crimson and the shape expands with horizontal streaks of purple, bright orangish pink around, the water surface almost at a tangent. Then comes the first dip, much faster than you would anticipate and before you know the water swallows it. You think you would hear a loud sizzling sound like when you pour water over a hot tawa, but no, the water gulps it down fast and smooth and you are left with this strange feeling. The feeling that you get after a train leaves the platform. All the mad energy and hyper activity of the platform packed and rolled in the train and gone.

Got reminded of it during a short trip to the land of yellow-black fiats. Sitting on the side of lake Powai with a friend and watching the sun set could see only the opening shot because before the orange could turn to crimson it went behind the hills and that was it. Loved it but missed the drama. Can't help but mentioning about the mosquitoes. Absolutely the most obnoxious lot, capable of piercing through the thickest of trousers.

Tete a tete with a T

The first thing any T-shirt of RRJ is subjected to in our home is removal of its brand tag. Just so that the synthetic piece of cloth doesn't become the epicenter of an extensive itching operation. While subjecting the third degree to the latest entrant to RRJ's wardrobe, a gift from friends, I got to read the following message written on the back of the tag

"Dear Mom
Wash me with tender loving care
I am allergic to dhobis
Iron me inside out
Buy me more often
Ta ta bye bye

PS: We'd like to get your kid hooked into the goodness of Tantra early on in life. That way he/she can grow up to be a 'free' spirit, and we can grow old to be respectable billionaires."

Such a cute ad! Made me almost keep the tag-letter with the T-shirt.

No point in having a point

Really it is point less. I mean when you say something which to you appears as simple as saying "that woman there in blue is known to me". And people around you are up in arms "that is definitely not blue, may be turquoise but definitely not blue" or " how can you assume that that person is a woman, I think it is because of your prejudice against women in short hair". I feel like pulling my hair, pulling them off their roots that they can see that they may have a point but that was not the point. Anyhow, such has been the communication between me and the rest of the world that I have set up a challenge for myself. Try to actively listen to others, i.e without switching off, but let the urge to say something come and go. Essentially shut up for a change. So as we walked up to the venue of an urgent meeting, I couldn't resist telling a couple of my colleagues about my resolution. While they were impressed that I didn't even wait till the new year for a resolution, they know me so well that they bet me a dinner if I could pull it off even for the up coming meeting. Oh how I sat through it only I know but I actually managed to earn my dinner after an hour's concentrated effort. After the meeting, the careful observer may have noticed my straight run to the eatery nearby with a friend. And yes the paav was warmed up in butter and the bhajee had a liberal dash of butter and there was a spoonful of butter just in case someone was missing the point. It was damn comforting.

On my way to pee

Cooler climes in Chennai are so very welcome. It is just wonderful to not have the sun beating down your head or sweat trickling along your back. The rains come and everything looks so fresh and green. Comes along the season of the heavenly fruit seetaphal, yes that is what even I call it now after fighting for years that seetaphal is kaddu and not shareefa. And these are the few months when I am able to wear trousers and jeans in Chennai without feeling suffocated my waist downward. These are also the months when the nature is on a speed dial. To attend these calls when I rush out of my office locking the door, I prefer not to gather any company along the corridor, but of course today I see a student and strike a polite conversation as we walked up to the T junction all the while hoping the guy turns left there but nope! Turning right both of us knew our respective destinations, the student found it too embarrassing and dashed ahead to maintain a distance before the men's room provided him the refuge. I tried not to laugh as the bladder was too full and my refuge was a bit further away.

A glimpse of the past

That we have come a long way, as parents that is, became evident to us last week when we had one of our friend and his family at home with us for a few days. Their two year old took us back in time when RRJ was that age. The time when I often wondered if I would ever be composed, calm and sane again. If I would ever be able to get up from sleep when I want to and not when I have to. If I would ever be able to complete a conversation and say a proper bye to people on phone before putting it down, or see RRJ in the vicinity of any milk product and not loose my mind. If I would ever be able to hear him cough and not worry about a wheezing attack and not be tense about every approaching meal time. If I would be be able to be in regular touch with my brothers and friends. If I would ever be able to take a step not worrying about what it would be up on, a toy on a good day and a bad day would be half spent trying to scrub of the smell only a two year old can produce. My vocabulary was rapidly reducing to the F word. F this, F that, depending on the strength of emotion I would mutter it under the breath or hiss it out, shout it aloud or if my memory serves me right there were a few occasions when I even sang it to a tune.

Then in the night when lights went out, I would sing 'ik din mit jayega matee ke mol, jag mein rah jayenge pyare tere bol' as a lullaby to RRJ and soothe my tired soul. A gentle reminder to myself to check on what I say. Little did I know, my little boy was listening to every bit of the song, not understanding a word but recording it like a tape recorder. It was such a delight to hear him sing......... Going through my digital records of those days, I rediscovered my delight last week.

Wait and watch

What a fun experiment with 4 year olds and marshmallows! Charming sniffing little lady.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M0yhHKWUa0g

Feeling blue

Feel so gutted. I never thought I would ever use 'gutted' or for that matter 'knackered' or 'buggered'. At the moment I need all three. Just got the lesson for calling my work as a 'friend' who introduces me to a different set of people. I guess I was being too nice there. A colleague very sweetly, in not so many words told me that there are two bright students who are finding my course not challenging enough. Usually I disregard this person's comments very easily but today I am clearly not in form. And to add to the fun there is a department meeting lined up for the afternoon right after the lab for which one of the machines is out of order. Oh I so love my work.

Work and/or life

Finding the right balance between work and life is an unavoidable exercise every family goes through. What works for one is an absolute no-no for the other. I just read this article (sorry, am not able to link it)

http://www.guardian.co.uk/culture/2009/nov/01/gaby-hinsliff-quits-working-motherhood

and it reminded of the question I have asked myself so many times, so what is this life after all, if we can't spare time for loved ones? Then to counter I ask then why does anyone work at all?

Work is strangely like a 'friend' to me, I go to work and it is always there, makes me feel appreciated, engages me, introduces me to new people, rewards me in many ways and of course it has a claim on my time and energy. No denying that there are times when I wish I could chuck it all out of the window and sit at home but without work I will be lonely, I know that. I remember a phase in my life when I was extremely happy and unhappy at the same time. While I had a life, I had no work. It was so weird, almost like a split personality.

I think working and having a life are not mutually exclusive. The essential ingredient is an understanding and supportive family, willing to share you with your work.

Lunches and bananas

At work I start fidgeting around 12:00 noon. "Oh dear its about time." In another 15-30 minutes or so depending on if I am in a conversation with a colleague or student and my ability or the lack of it to make an abrupt exit, I rush back home. On the way I press my Mom10 watch and switch from office mode to mother mode. Our friends drop RRJ home from school at 12:45.

As we walk up the stairs, I get to know who gave him trouble and who was nice to him. They get some imaginary blows and pats as per their karma. On entering home RRJ spots the basketball lying around in the balcony and starts dribbling for a while, then he straight heads for his computer, switches on the speakers and puts 'guzarish' of ghajini and makes me laugh with his Aamir Khan swagger in slow motion. The other songs that we listen to during lunch time are jai ho, piu bole, panchee nadiya and Roberta Flack's really old song "killing me softly". In between I eat lunch, RRJ wrestles with the lunch and then I give him the remaining food on his plate. The wrestling time is usually controlled as per my time commitments at 2:00 pm. Then he becomes 'dadu' for a while by removing the shirt and being in the vest and school shorts. Then I nag while I pack his daycare bag and slowly he changes in to a fresh set of clothes.

Then we make our way to day care singing louder than the racket my scooter makes at my super speed of 20 kmph. If we have time my scooter goes bananas and goes in to roads which are not on our way and then comes back the right way and then over shoots the destination and turns around and overshoots again and so on. While our carbon footprints get oversize we giggle and laugh and happily head for daycare and office respectively. Those are the good days. But life is not haha heehee, one of the many days when we get late, I had a series of meetings lined up for which I was in no mood to reach late for. I fed him, so lunch was fast, saved time on cleaning as well. RRJ obliged by changing his dress on his own while I got the day care bag ready. I come out of kitchen and he was already in the balcony. Good, superboy. I reach balcony. Not so good, sandals are yet to be worn, and superboy hanging on the rope meant for spiderman. A yell later we find the sandals. He slips his feet in but velcro had to be done by amma. Amma dutifully bends and both her purse and day care bag come off shoulder. Velcro secured, the bags back on shoulder, time to spare 15 minutes. Amma is the calmest ever, thinking, "I can even park the scooter near my office building and walk down to the other buidling for the meeting". Sweat trickles down her back. Amma kick starts the scooter which needs battery replacement for maybe a year now. Scooter starts in one try. RRJ in the meantime does his usual walking ahead and waiting like in a bus stop, shows his hand, I stop and he gets on and we reach the first left turn and then lightening strikes "Ammaaaaa... scooter said he will go bananas in the lunch time". No-no-nonono not today pleeease no time for bananas or bahamas.

"But the scooter told me. Amma..... please amma." Amma is caught off guard and responds by turning the accelerator, she is bad at handling "please amma" under pressure. Amma crosses her highest speed ever at 40 kmph. She looks as stern as possible, under the circumstances it wasn't difficult at all. We stop at the day care. RRJ seeing amma's determined look makes a peace offer " okay, I will go only if scooter goes bananas in the evening." Amma loses it now, forgets she is the adult here. "Scooter will not go bananas for many days". We make our way to the door, amma stomping ahead and RRJ dragging his feet behind. Pops out the maam. "What happened, RRJ is not looking happy?" RRJ looks sideway generally at nothing, very devdas like stance. " He wants a scooter ride" amma tries to make it clear it is not her fault after all.
"No. Not just ride, I want bananas."
"Whats wrong with bananas, you can surely give him bananas. They are good for health. And specially for him being so skinny."
"We would love if he had bananas, but he doesn't."
"But why don't you give him bananas, does he wheeze?"
"He wheezes but I don't think it is because of bananas, we want him to have bananas. As for now, he is asking for a scooter ride."
Eyes roll, RRJ continues his stare in to nothing and its not clear why amma bothers to justify herself. More sweat trickles down her back. A look at the watch and she knows she will get that oh-she-has-a-small-child look as and when she makes it for the meeting. On her way back, she presses her mom10 watch and her skin thickens by an order of magnitude as she switches back to her kick-ass office mode, comes in handy on such occasions.

Piles to go before I sleep

Accidents do happen. Against all your hopes and prayers they do. A misguided rocket entered into our other bedroom, making a big hole in the netlon and landing right in the middle of the piles of exam papers that I was one eighteenth done with. Boom, how that boom 'broke' our 'ghoom'. I entered the room, the sight was most alarming. The mattress was up in flames and the fire was rapidly consuming the pages and pages of clearly written answer sheets of the exam last week. In my attempts to quash the fire I had to use what I could lay my hands on, which was one of the piles which was still intact. I dumped it on the fire which seemed to do the trick. It became all very smoky and there were a few minor flare ups which needed some more quashing. I found the exam paper copies and the solution and the marking scheme neatly kept on the side. They also went and thankfully the fire was gone, phew! And then it struck me that with the fire was gone every little evidence of the exam I gave last week to my class. Dear me! What will I do, I can't possibly conduct another exam. Perhaps I will just prorate the previous mid-term's marks which was conducted as well as corrected by the co-teacher while was gallivanting in Malta. Yeah, prorate we did, just like the exams got canceled because earth quakes consumed my school on a monthly basis and presentations got postponed as the power-grid near by collapsed, no power no power point etc. etc. We all know that line of thought.

As if it was not painful enough, RRJ, knowing his mother well, has taken the responsibility of representing each student's case. Now I have to justify why I am giving anyone less than 10, you see esteemed lawyer Ben10 has a got a thing for number ten. Any less and he is up in arms. I am sure there is some silver lining to all this, I don't know what that may be....

Bombing the D-day

The day started with a bang, literally. To be factually correct it started with a bang-bang-bang-bang..... Some diwali fanatic's successful attempt to let the world within 2 km radius around him know the exact number representative of his well developed IQ at 5:00 in the morning. And then Mayhem followed. People! Anyhow, I didn't let my annoyance come in the way of trying out some grenades myself. Aha, you see diwali has got to be celebrated in style.

RRS had insisted that if I plan to do any frying for diwali then it should include that alu chop kind of thing he had the first time he came to my then home. Ma had very sweetly prepared a bunch of them, and my father in his characteristic appreciative style announced their arrival on the table " Oh here come the famous grenades". New to our family, RRS's usual equanimity received a severe jolt and he looked pretty much ready to bolt. For a fleeting moment he felt perhaps this was some kind of planned attack on him by disgruntled parents for showing undue interest in their daughter. And then he saw the 'grenades', and the whiff of fried alu reached him, his hand automatically reached for one. A few of them and he was completely sold to the grenade launching family.

So like the dutiful wife I am, I got the recipe from my mother and the morning was well spent rolling the alu mash balls in bread covering to be fried later in the evening. What else: making some gojas (recipe from my cousin), chole is ready, some bought sweets and some crackers. Very determined to wear a silk saree (have been doing every diwali for last 4 years!) which hasn't seen the light of the day for last ten years. That is our Diwali this time. Formally invited only students, a bit anxious about that. Somehow still not comfortable with the whole idea. I guess I will survive. Hopes are friends will drop in later and it will all end very well. Happy Diwali to you all!

Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Gham

Just finished a class and I am fluttering like a butterfly. There is something so crazy about the way butterflies flutter from one place to another. They go zig zag on a completely random path, one minute they look static and the next they are a meter away. Said simply, I am very bouncy and just so full of myself. Let me explain, today's class being in the post lunch hour tends to be very difficult, as most students come just for the attendance. If they remain awake then prefer the local chit-chat over the global event of my lecture. In a class of 150 students under the conditions I mention it is of course note worthy that in the last quarter of the class today I managed to engage the class in a discussion which led to them developing some of the ideas rather than me telling it step by step. Yay I feel like Kapil Dev would have felt holding the world cup in 1983. It is that rare an event.

Then there are days right after the class when I sulk for hours, shout at others and counter argue anything anybody has to say. Just because I couldn't answer the simplest of questions which results in more local chit-chat and the global lecture becomes a local event for me in which I mutter and stutter and doodle on the board and rub the doodle and more doodle. Boo hoo I feel like every other captain of Indian cricket team ever since then.

There is not an iota of doubt in my mind that if not few at least one person in the classroom is following the course very closely. The exam next week will surely confirm that that person is only me.

Friendly firing

Is it okay to keep mum when you disagree with your friend? Is it okay to ignore the feeling that you know why they are having the problem they are talking about and don't say anything as it might hurt them. It is difficult to know when a friend wants just a listener (always?) and when a solution provider (never?). Any chit-chat lasting more than exchanging pleasantaries results in at least one of the situations mentioned above. What does one do?

I guess it depends on what the topic of discussion is, how you present your case and of course the gender of your friend. By hit and trial it seems that it is safer to stay clear of making any comments other than positive on the beliefs and views of my friends about their religion, profession, spouses, children and family. Yes we still manage to find somethings to talk about! Since I am rather free with my opinion or fundas on every other thing, it requires certain level of guard. A slip here and there and one can end up hurting friends quite unintentionally.

Burger queen

The official title of 'big mac queen' was bestowed up on me by my office mates on successfully negotiating the first semester of my stay in the US with a big mac lunch almost every single working day. I knew I had it in me to make it big.

Twelve years down the line an impromptu lunch at a much respectable burger place in Chennai is telling me it is time the crown goes to someone more deserving. Dinner time is approaching, the lunch is yet to near the exit lane.

Cinema abbondanza

It all started when a while ago I read in Lakshmi's blog about the movies she saw during the summer. I was absolutely taken by the idea of watching movies on the laptop before sleeping. So with woofer and speakers in place and laptop perched on a table we have been enjoying cinema in plenty:

Titli-. Set in beautiful locales of Darjeeling, the movie is about a mother, her daughter and their chance meeting with a movie star. The incident disturbs their equilibrium, while the daughter grows out her childishness, her beautiful and graceful mother rediscovers her vulnerable side. Didn't know I could watch through a movie with Mithun Chakravarthy in it and like it too.

Anuronon (meaning resonance): Amongst the flirtations and friendships that develop during the movie, what was perhaps common to all characters was their search for people who share similar passions, values, emotions and ideas, people whose wavelength matches their own. If some of these people are of opposite sex and outside marriage then it can lead to different interpretations by society as well as spouses.

Khela: Being responsible for a child for a short while, makes a film director look beyond his single minded obsession for film-making.

Doser: is the 'other woman' in bangla. The other woman without ever appearing on screen and dying within the first few minutes leaves a trail of miserable people behind her. Konkana Sen Sharma is damn good as the woman scorned. Although both me and RRS thought the guy got off the hook way too easily.

Love Aajkal: Well, if that is love then what is not. While Deepika looks beautiful, vulnerable and not dumb, she finds it hard to look unhappy. Left me completely confused throughout the film. Rahul Khanna may agree with me. Saif, supposed to be the man in love aajkal, is a complete bore.

The proposal: A typical aggressive female boss and a submissive male subordinate. Chick-flick, rom-com, one can easily fill in the blanks. Did I imply I didn't like it? I am all for meaningless light hearted fun.

He is just not that into you: Another chick-flick. Nothing profound but very watchable.

Luck by chance: A very well made movie about film-making in bollywood. Konkana Sen Sharma's luck with love continues to be bad and Farhan Akhtar is lucky yet again to have a good script save him. He is understated to the point that he appears wooden. A young Amitabh say in Abhimaan or Anand in comparison used understatement to perfection.

Kalpurush: Another Bengali movie, a bit on the slower side. The different aspects of Rahul Bose's life are shown, childhood, professional and personal. Each more depressing than the other. Quite a nice movie.

Mighty aphrodite: Watched it again. Very entertaining.

Okay, time to rush as we plus parents are headed to eat out. Big milestone crossed: completed 35 years of existence.

Sweet or Sour

On my way in a taxi to the airport at 1:00 AM in the night, I couldn’t help but ask myself, “really is it worth it to be woken up with in two hours of sleep, to gulp down an anti-vomit tablet and head for shores so many miles away from family and home. To Malta, a country I had never heard of other than as the name of a fruit in my mother’s garden. A big sized orange with a centimeter thick skin and taste more sour than any lemon I ever had. Goes to say of my poor geographical knowledge, distaste for popping tablets and absolute dislike for interruptions to my sleep. As for family and home, I know, they enjoy my presence as much as a short absence.

After three days of tucking in a mix of continental and mediterranean food and desserts in between some technical talks and my own talk on the last day, the mood had a major shift. The prevailing sense was of that state of mind which one calls contentment. Sitting there in a lovely hotel looking out of my balcony in to St. George bay with boats rocking on the mild waves, bags all packed up and waiting for the taxi to arrive, I was wiser, at least about the geographical location of Malta. The name will surely have much sweeter associations than before. With all the sweetness around, there had to be a fly in the ice-cream: some co-passengers in the flight back. I was holding my aching head wondering “ Why do Indian men have to be so rude to air hostesses?”

Caught in the web

The wish as well as the hope of being a super human is the strongest in childhood before one realizes the futility of all of it. One fine day our son, RRJ, declared, “Amma, I will be spiderman today and everyday”, which essentially meant the T-shirt with spiderman printed on it will be worn every day then on. For the next week it was getting washed every morning, being worn by the afternoon, still damp, and removed only before going to school next day. What happened in the weekends is a dark secret people with exaggerated sense of hygiene needn’t know. A friend coming to know of our plight immediately dug out a couple more from her daughter’s wardrobe and one we found hidden in pile of some gifts. Four shirts and ropes hanging in the balcony were ample arrangements to keep the spidey spirit alive throughout the week.

Being in the friendly neighbourhood of spiderman of course had its undeniable advantages as he very soon started his rescue operation:
RRJ: Amma, I want to be strong like spiderman. Does spiderman have spinach?
Amma: Sure he does, but if you don’t like you don’t have to. (that was brave on amma’s part)
RRJ: Give me spinach and everything else. And hot-hot (pickle that is)?
Amma: Oh no, spiderman doesn’t have hot-hot because then he has to drink a lot of water to make it cool and he can’t enough food.
RRJ: hmmm… I will also not have. May be I can have only a little bit.
Amma: What happened RRJ, many days no fuss?
RRJ: Oh… I can’t fuss anymore. I am the spiderman. Spider man–spider man.

"Spiderman, Spiderman,
Does whatever a spider can
Spins a web, any size,
Catches thieves just like flies
Look Out!
Here comes the Spiderman.

To him, life is a great big bang up
Whenever there's a hang up
You'll find the Spider man."

The appointed hour-II

“So, how are things?” has been my standard opening sentence with all students these days. Lets them choose what they want to talk about, at least till the time the micro-manager in me can be curbed, which is typically five minutes at the maximum. The historical meeting that I mentioned in my previous post started on a similar note and the first five minutes were very pleasant, neither of us not quite knowing what was to follow.
S: “ I have the presentation in the CD, can I show? I think the code is working”
Bannu: “Oh yeah! Of course, please.”
And I took my position hunched over my snazzy IMac, waiting for the presentation like our son waits for his “Tom and Jerry” show. This work had been full off hurdles one after the other, and if the code is working then it better work well, I was hoping against hope. Two slides down…
Bannu: “Very nice, very very nice.” The simulations were looking absolutely terrific. And that was not all! Slide three and four were even better. I wanted to exclaim in joy and what came out was a shrill cry. It felt like pincers clamping near my inner thigh. Caught off guard by a scream as if in pain, the student almost fell off his chair, quite proving my suspicion about the stability of these ergonomic chairs with roller at the bottom. I myself was so shaken by the pain and even more by my own response that I stood up. And stomped about as if trying to shake off the pain as well as the embarrassment. The pincer had released the clamp but the pain was….. unshakable. The wonderful contours of the mises stress evolving with time as the crack initiated and grew were history.
Bannu:” I am expecting an extremely important call , right now, can you please leave?”
S (looking at his watch): “Leave? May be I can leave when the call comes” and then he saw my contorting face “ Okay” and immediately ejected the CD out.
Bannu: “Ouch” pincers were back on. My walk was more of a hop now. “ and please, can you pack your CD in the bag outside the roo ooh ooom? I can almost hear the phone ringing.”
Convinced that his guide had finally gone balmy the student ran out of the room closing the door behind himself, with CD in one and the bag in the other hand. I leapt to the door to lock it as he peeped in “Mam, when shall I meet you next”. “Ouch” was my response as I banged the door on his face and locked it. Hurriedly undid the ‘nadas’ of my ‘salwar’ to discover two bumps on my right thigh and the mutilated remains of two tiny ants like cherries on the top of two muffins. Two ants, who were the least impressed by our scientific progress and made their displeasure known in no uncertain terms. Over the next couple of days the muffins became two cakes and finally they merged in to one warm pancake.

As far as the student is concerned, it will take some time for me to get the student to believe that the abrupt ending of the appointed hour had nothing to do with him and that I had always expected him to be able to make the code work and that I am not any more crazier than I always was.

The appointed hour

"I exactly know what you tried, what you understood and where you got stuck, where things went as expected etc. etc." It was so frustrating not to get a chance to utter these words as often as I wanted to with my research students. Articulation of what they had to say, just like common sense had seemed to be so elusive. And then I chanced up on the solution, a solution as simple as: a weekly meeting, at an appointed time and very importantly for an hour.

Weekly meeting has been ensuring usage of some of their time during the week in pursuit of tangible outcomes, appointed hour is making sure that I am not excessively annoyed at being interrupted from important duties like updating my facebook entries among others. At the same time, the students are feeling confident that they don't have to have made the biggest discovery of the century to make an appearance. An hour gives both the parties the much needed time to assimilate the progress and decide the future course of action. And to discuss for an hour students automatically feel the need to prepare a presentation with the essential details. No need to tear ones hair, no need to shout, in turn no need to mumble, no need to flip through pages or hunt the latest file among millions of files in the same directory! The key to the conundrum was preparation, that's it. Life has been wonderful ever since.

But but but. Last meeting had to end very abruptly, had to literally push the student out of the room, face was red in agitation and the after effects lasted for 2-3 days. May be one can never be prepared enough..... to be continued.

You are sixteen going on seventeen

Let me have a look at my crystal ball, wait I don’t even need to! It is all so clear, right in front of my eyes, absolutely crystal clear. I have never felt so sure about anyone’s future like I do about yours. What do I see? I see many things but they come like a flash and then they are gone. Seem to be like highlights of your life. Yes, yes don’t worry, I see a man, looks fairly handsome to me but do you have to sound that desperate? I will come to that but let me start so here we go:

While you enjoy sleeping and breaking your own records of getting up late, go a bit easy on how you are not a morning person and all that. I see you up and about by 6 in the morning, dunking idlis in chutney and gobbling down white noodly stuff called ‘Iddiappam’ for breakfast, and heading to work by 8! I know it is hard to imagine but it is definitely you.

However impossible it seems Ma and you will reach an equilibrium, you will appreciate her a lot more with time. Please don’t sweat over the fact that your family is not picture perfect like you see in hindi movies. One of the relations will give you a taste of how it might be in other families, a learning experience of a lifetime.

Remember starting basketball in class eighth? Why don’t you start practicing again? One of the biggest decisions in life may depend on your interest and skills in BB.

Try to be a bit regular with studies, will help you in the long run. The bad news is that you will be punished rather severely for not paying enough attention during the UG years as you will be made to repeat some of those courses semester after semester, year after year. The good news is that the courses are the interesting ones and you will not be taking exams but giving them.

Enjoy the female companionship, future will have largely male dominated environment at work place as well as at home.

You are about to see this man, short and stocky with a mop of curly hair. You will love the way he drives through covers but your favourite shot will remain his straight drive. Things don’t really work out for you as SRT had his eyes set on his childhood sweetheart.

But don’t despair there will be another sporting hero, a little less of a global phenomenon but definitely more accessible as you will at least meet him in real life. Your up turned stubby nose and bushy eyebrows notwithstanding he will make passes at you. Catch them and convert them. Try not to get too distracted and at least once in a while do some studying…….what the heck, enjoy your romance.

I see a little child, oh boy, what a boy! Looks a lot like you, yes he does, wait don’t get that happy, behaves like you too! Very loud, stubborn, control freak, doesn’t listen to parents, not at all and what a temper! You must be on drugs to look so happy with all that madness around you. No daughter in sight though, you look too determined not to have any more issues of any kind.

Sorry I need to wrap up now, I can see you nearing 35, rather happy with life, the biggest worry at the moment is whether to colour your greying hair or not, teethwise: one root canal and one tooth has gone missing. You are married to a prof (don’t ask what happened to the sporting hero), for old time sake you go to courts once in a while, the prof notices the wistful look in your eyes whenever you go there but is pretty okay about it.

No more, no more, I can’t divulge anymore. I shouldn’t be a spoilsport. My dear sixteen year old self, live life the way you want and if it is any assurance you turned out just fine.

A fishy business

Loved watching ‘A fish called Wanda’ yet again. In the backdrop of a bank robbery of diamonds worth millions, this movie is a fantastic and funny tale of unabashed greed. Jamie Lee Curtis rules as Wanda who uses her abundant charm simultaneously on goofiest of an american con-man (Kevin Cline), a stiff-neck bank-robbery gang leader, a stammering gang member (Michael Pallin) and a pompous british barrister (John Cleese). Wanda remains very focused and determined to have the diamonds all to herself and has absolutely no qualms double-crossing her accomplices. Her plans go along well until the barrister finds her weakness for spoken Russian. John Cleese is adorable, his little trot while unclothing in anticipation is hilarious. And so is Kevin Cline when he pretends to be a CIA agent. An immensely enjoyable movie, gives a toss to propriety and correctness and makes you laugh out loud.

In quotes

The power of a quotation I feel comes less from the concise intelligent message that it conveys as much as it does from the authority of the author. Imagine your reaction when you read “ it’s a miracle that curiosity survives education”. “ Really? And I always thought education makes you think” would be a normal thought to cross your mind. Then your eyes find Albert Einstein signed beneath. Can you still disagree with him and that too about education? The bloke who knew so much must be knowing when he said that. You are left with no choice but to agree with the gentleman, wondering how mankind lost the opportunity of getting to know so many more theories just by educating this one man. A complete colossal loss.

The weight of the name does matter, I say so because I remember a particularly non-technical introductory class I took in which after a few planned gimmicks to make the subject and the teacher appear cool everyone introduced themselves, essentially a fun class doing nothing. The next day, since I have the habit of writing a recap of the previous class , I wrote “There is never enough time to do all the nothings you want” . Not even a buzz. I went on to write “Bill Watterson” under those words and that was plain magic. The Calvin in everyone was let loose and the whole class beat the life out of the wooden desks in appreciation.

The other day trying to make a point with a group of colleagues about a grave injustice that was being done, I was stumped when someone responded with two dohas by Kabir. Before I could deal with the fact that Kabir was on the other side, the perpetrator of what I perceived as grave injustice quoted Gandhi. I gasped for breath, my memory failed me, I just couldn’t think of a quotation that could take on Mahatma. Someone in my support pointed out to me “don’t argue with fools, they will bring you down to their level and beat you with the experience”. Another friend said “even the devil can quote the scriptures for his own purpose”. But with no big names and only two ‘anonymous’ on our side we stood absolutely no chance. My argument and I were completely lost in quotations.

How mean can I be?

The answer to that is as much as you want. When people without provocation go out of their way to come in my way, I am forced to find the 'mean me'. The one that squints her eyes, clenches her teeth, pulls her breath and lands an uppercut with a force belying her diminutive figure. The one that loves to see knees wobble and people fall down. Each time my hope is that I won't need 'mean me' or her ruthlessness anymore but people are people. Last week very reluctantly I had to engage her services yet again. The 'mean me' looked mighty pleased with the e-punch that she delivered. Seems to have bought peace for sometime.

The Domesticated Decade

This is in reference to the last ten years of my life
Yes a time indeed that long
It is the time since I became a wife
When a dear mallu married this bong

Most satisfying journey it has been
And I cherish the companionship
Ups and downs we have faced as a team
Nothing seemed a hardship

Ahem……
Being a time for celebrations
I am focusing on whatever is wonderfully right
Will save the significant omissions
For next time we have a full blown fight.

Give it a Miss

In the women’s competition at Wimbledon this year, apart from the umpteenth contest between the spirited and cheeky William sisters for the crown at a grand slam event, the other most notable happening was that Wimbledon has done away with the tradition of calling the women players by their title Ms or Mrs. Is calling someone by their title that offending? If not then why the fuss?

At this point I like to remember the story of ‘Her name and She’ which goes somewhat like this: when born she was called ‘so and so’ and then somewhere along the line she assumed the status of Miss Someone. The title quite an advertisement of her single status that one couldn’t miss in combination with the glow of youth, it was hardly surprising that few chance and awkward meetings with Mister Someoneelse took place. They decided to give it a chance and first names were exchanged and permitted, then few movies and dinner dates later nicknames took over. Things then got so mushy that even new silly nicknames were coined for each other. Sadly but inevitably some stability in the relationship was reached when they started calling each other names. Depending on which part of the world they lived in either they broke up or they got married and lived together ‘happily’ ever after as Mr. and Mrs. Someoneelse.

I don’t really see much of a problem with the initial titles being in place, it seems just like one of the many names different people call a person by, the problem is that for women there is this additional information about their marital status included which doesn’t seem too appropriate in this day and age. In professional circumstances it is downright insensitive to provide personal information of anyone, be it man or woman, which has no bearing on the person’s professional abilities. For women tennis players at least Wimbledon has finally decided to show a little more sensitivity even if it meant going against the British ethos of sticking by tradition. In one of the press conferences apparently Venus Williams when asked a leading question like which trophy she prizes most, put tradition in its place by saying that she has too many trophies and they serve well as make up brush holder. The eyes rolled all around and one could hear a stiff upper lip moving that little bit to utter “ how American”!

June 2009

A Song for the Occasion

When I am doing some mundane thing on my own like walking from one place to another or chopping vegetables in the kitchen and I hear myself humming, it baffles me that how often the song is just so right for the mood I am in. It doesn’t require any conscious thought and yet it is bang on. Mostly the RJ cells of the brain use the limited and oft repeated selection but can sometimes pull up a few surprises too. Like a very long time ago, mid-way my summer internship in Bangalore I moved out of an oppressive environment to a PG, the next day in the factory, in a very filmy way I just burst into ‘aaj phir jeene kee tamanna hai’ with all the cigarette cutting machinery and assembly lines making the back ground score. It was not quite a cinematic or operatic performance but the spontaneity was a manifestation of the huge relief I felt within. I was surprised myself. The song was never my favourite and I don’t remember ever singing it before or after but being a regular ‘chitrahaar’ watcher perhaps I didn’t miss the euphoria Waheeda Rehman felt liberating her aanchal from all the kantas of her life.

Apparently the significance of my humming is not lost on RR senior either, as he has indicated in so many words that he is pretty terrified of my involuntary renditions of “yahi voh jagah hai, yahi voh fizaen, yaheen par kabhee aap hum se mile the”. According to him the tune spells nothing but trouble as he seems to find strong correlation between the specific tune and an impending fight. While I find it difficult to accept that people can read my mind that easily, I do have regard for strong experimental data. RR senior himself is one of those people who consider letting people know his emotions rather beneath himself, humming tunes most certainly ranks even lower. But sitting quietly with long calculations, papers strewn all around and a laptop for company even dignified people have momentary lapses when the results of the calculations seem to match the simulation of the laptop. At such moments RJ cells of his brain play the repeat of literally one and only, that too an original composition. Given the genetic history and we both being educationists, we are trying our best not to read too much into the frequent singing of “we don’t need no education” by the kid.

On a final note, until my “favourite” student does the honour of graduating, my anthem climbing down the steps from office after any meeting will remain“I have a dream, a song to sing, to help me cope, with everything” with emphasis on “cope with everything”.

A Tryst with Sister Shivani

My aunt's late evenings are practically booked for her meeting with sister Shivani and I for one week at her place got a chance to be a part of these meetings. It was very timely for me because all evidences had been stacking up to prove quite consistently that I am a person of finite resources (energy and time) which evidently everybody is, but then I have these infinite expectations to be met and infinitesimal patience to handle anything that I consider not quite up to my liking to make life a tad too exciting. Listening to her was really nice in the sense I could completely identify with the difficult situations that she was talking about. Her interpretation and some pointers to how to deal with them and even better how to avoid such situation sounded so refreshing and also quite doable. While there were several pearls of wisdom, the one that got stuck in my mind and I am hoping to work on is "to not want to write the script for others". The next step "to not want to judge and analyse every action of others". Oooh that will be a hard one!

Vacation Notes

Just when life was appearing a never-ending list of chores to be done, every other interaction was driving me up against the wall and to top it all Chennai was experiencing the disorienting heat of agni paksham, we left for a long vacation. RR senior to Brazil and RR junior and myself to Bangalore, then all together to Shimla and Manali. Great vacation it was. This post is a collection of little nuggets on some of the thoughts that crossed my mind during the vacation:

Give the people you care for, a chance to see your better side. Strangers and acquaintances seem to be enjoying that most of the time.

Getting shouted at is something others dislike as much as you do yourself.

With the intent of constructive criticism, it is easy to get sidetracked and end up hurting the subject of criticism. The pitfalls to avoid: patronizing attitude, clever sentence construction, the desire to sound profound and the worst is repeating oneself. People do understand, it is just that when they are upset they don’t nod in agreement.

Bangalore beats Brazil any day. In Bangalore it was grandparents, indulgent mama and only one of the parents, Brazil on the other hand would have been both the parents and no daycare to escape to. If you were a kid which one would you choose?

Reading blogs of cousins you hardly meet or know well can be quite delightful. People seem to tell a lot more when not in person!

You can see the point of view of a child, you just have to try a little harder. Sleeping adequately, eating balanced food, being polite and courteous are not the ultimate aims of a four year old.

Blogging can be quite fun and addictive even if writing is not your forte. Is it because one is able to tell all that one wants to and more without having to witness rolling eyes, a glazed look, a stifled yawn or much worse an attempt to shift the topic?

Each parent should get at least two weeks off from parenting and spousing. Makes them appreciate the noise and notice the affection.

There is nothing as lovely and heart warming as visiting ones favourite aunt and uncle. Catching up, seeing each other’s present life, going for walks in the woods around Shimla, cooking together, the package is absolutely precious. It can’t get better if the kid falls in love with them.

A bus ride from Shimla to Manali lasts longer than people would have you believe. Bus drivers are reasonable people until they get overtaken, while they do realize that death defying stunts are perhaps avoidable but only when they get a flat tyre. The whole journey is very scenic but the last 4 hours of the journey are absolutely breathtaking with river Beas posing for the cameras.

Manali is a delightful place to be in. Within a mile or two around the mall, you can walk into apple orchards and beautiful nature parks, have lunches in cute outdoor cafes looking over the river and in the evenings enjoy the shopping or just the buzz of the mall. You don't have to be a people-watcher to notice that most couples are newly married, the women of himachal are very beautiful and they wear the most well cut patiala salwars. About men … ahem.. I can’t seem to wish away the sight, pointed out by RRS, of a young group of guys in undies with pot bellies hanging out try to take a dip in the river Beas. Unfortunately, the water was too cold and shallow to cover the ghastly sight.

If you like tandoori food do try the roadside offerings, they are way much better than any posh hotel or café has to offer but don’t give in to the craving for chaat as there can be rather serious consequences. It seems that it is the surest way of getting what the medical annals refer to as mountain diarrhea. Every walk thereafter will require a pre-walk and post-walk visit.

A toothache doesn’t know that you are on vacation and don’t have access to a pain killer in the middle of the night. Neither does it know any intensity less than what can numb half your face. To live through the excruciating pain try to convince your mind to focus on counting five breathing in and five breathing out (never knew pre-natal classes will be useful second time round).

A child growing up in Chennai finds it difficult to understand that in some places you don’t need fans, however, you do need some warm clothing all day and thick blankets in the night. Poor mother has to wake up every other hour to bring him back into the covers. Father of course can be trusted up on to contribute significantly by keeping the decibel levels of the snore reasonably high, lest mother may go into deep sleep.

The one person even when out of sight is never out of our kid’s mind is his best friend, NKR.

Let travel agent not talk you into flying MDLR airlines from Kullu to Delhi. They cost the same but are quite unprofessional and unreliable. Their pilots take took long to make it to the airport for a timely start and can pretty much unannounced land a non-stop flight in Chandigarh for god knows what. For people who have connecting flights from Delhi in different airlines it leaves no alternative but to open up their laptops. With those long hours to kill you get to know what is happening all around, it seems quite a lot in Shiney Ahuja's bedroom!

Back in Chennai, even though agni paksham is over it seems the information has not reach up and above. Chennai maybe a hot and humid place but quite certainly it is not the thermal expansion that is causing the change in shape around the abdomen and bums.

Jhunka Modified

Learnt from a friendly neighbour in Bangalore. The preparation is simple and tasty but since the dish is gujerati (okay, that is what she said) and the recipe comes from a tamilian who grew up in Bangalore, purists may question its authenticity. The tadka definitely indicates the tamil influence and brinjals are my own contribution to the evolution of the recipe. What one needs is:

• 3 onions (diced)
• 2 tomatoes (diced)
• 1 brinjal (1.5 times the size of onion)( diced)
• 1 cup fresh methi leaves or 3 teaspoon dry methi leaves soaked in water.
• 0.5 teaspoon urad daal
• 0.5 teaspoon chana daal
• 1 green chilli (chopped)
• 1 teaspoon mustard
• 5-6 curry leaves
• 0.5 teaspon turmeric
• 2-3 teaspoon besan mixed in water to make a paste
• 3 tablespoon dhaniya leaves (chopped)

Take some oil (2-3 tablespoons) in a frying pan. When the oil gets hot, add the mustard. As the mustard starts to bounce around add the daals. Let the daals start browning before adding the green chilli followed by curry leaves and the onions. Wait for onion to get a little soft. Add methi leaves tomato, brinjal, turmeric, salt and 1 cup of water. Cover and cook till brinjal is cooked add the besan paste and let it simmer for 5 more minutes. Add the coriander leaves and it is ready to eat with chapatis.

Sweet Nothings

Twenty hours of total flight time couldn’t take RR senior far enough that we couldn’t sit across each other and chat for hours. Thanks to technology (skype) family can’t be kept at bay, you are answerable for every minute of your time. A snippet from the conversation-
RRJ: Achcha what do you do when you are not talking to me?
RRS: Ahem, I do some important things ….. and after work for some time I sleep.
Conversation takes a detour and sometime later.
RRS: And what do you do when you are not talking to me?
RRJ: I think about you.
Oooh what a shot, score two-love, junior leading…… the audience in raptures, they absolutely love it!

No-Frills Biryani

On a break from steaming hot Chennai, it has been the most relaxing time in months. At parent’s in Bangalore, the kid busy with visiting mama, husband away in Brazil and parents busy hosting the hulla-gulla, has given me ample time for everything including an attempt at the food for the soul: chicken biryani. While biryani recipes get as elaborate as one wants but the one that works for me is one with minimum frills. Things you need:

• 1 kg chicken or 8 chicken drumsticks
• 2 onions (finely chopped)
• 6 pods of garlic (grated)
• 1 tablespoon of ginger (grated)
• 4-5 peppercorns (ground)
• 1 tomato (chopped)
• 1 green chilli (chopped)
• 1.5 level teaspoon garam masala
• 1 level teaspoon turmeric
• 1.5 teaspoon dhaniya powder
• 0.5 teaspoon chilli powder
• 1 bayleaf
• 4 cloves
• 1 stick of cinnamon
• 2 cardamoms
• salt for taste
• juice of 1 lime

--------------------------------

• 3 cups of rice
• 3 pods of garlic (chopped)
• 0.5 cup pudina leaves (finely chopped)
• 0.5 cup dhaniya leaves (finely chopped)
• 0.5 teaspoon garam masala
• 2 teaspoon salt

Take a liberal amount of oil ( around 5-6 tablespoons) in a large frying pan or wok/kadhai on medium heat. When the oil is reasonably hot put the chopped onion and let it fry till it looses it’s shape and crunchiness (say for around 10 mins). Put the grated ginger garlic, green chilli and pepper corn (wait 2 mins). Add the bayleaf, cloves, cinnamon and cardamoms. In another couple of minutes add the tomato, the powders, lime juice and salt and cover the pan so that the paste doesn’t become too dry. Once the tomatoes become part of the paste add the chicken and cook fully covered for 20 minutes on medium heat and 20 more minutes on low heat. In another pan heat 2 tablespoons of oil and fry the garlic. Add the rice and stir for a couple of minutes before adding 6 cups of water and garam masala and salt. Let it come to a boil and cover until cooked. Mix mint and coriander leaves in the rice. In a big pan put half of the chicken in a layer then put half of the rice and spread it over the chicken. Layer the remaining chicken and put the final layer of rice. Now with a big serving spoon toss the biryani a few times without making it too homogeneous. It is ready to be eaten and any mild raita makes an ideal accompaniment.

O Mentor Where Art Thou

A meeting with one of my favourite students has given me the rudest of shocks. There I was, a little smug of my ability to connect as a normal human being with the students specially a few of the under graduates and there he was telling me what a false idea that was. Just three years ago this bright little kid had his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm for anything challenging about mechanics and asking questions which made me learn and relearn. Unquestionable ability, the desire to learn and discuss being right there, all that we, the teachers, had to do was to expose him to the wonderful world of mechanical engineering. Now graduating, not a kid anymore, the student is convinced that mechanical engineering: academia or industry is just not for him. While I respect the growth of a person and their quest for their calling in life, but I can’t deny the sense of deflation I feel. There is something hugely wrong in our academic system, instead of inspiring a few who don’t even want to consider engineering as an option we are managing to do exactly the opposite. And I come to know of this transition in one of my favourite students after three years!

Seeing parallels between parenthood and being a teacher comes naturally to me perhaps because both happened to me around the same time. The under graduate student is like a newly arrived who slowly picks up the basic skills and the language of his/her profession for survival in the later life. We the teachers like parents must provide the infrastructure, we must convey the passion for our subject, but more importantly we have to spend some quality time. Even when the student wants to run to his/her peers we must want to share their joys as well as anxieties of these growing years. In this mad rush to satisfy all the demands of academia and self-growth perhaps it is easy to forget these are young minds who come to an academic institution with hope and aspirations. We cannot let them come and go without ever being involved with them.

Bumps and Nicks

The sight of myself behind the steering wheel driving out of our neat little campus into the sea of vehicles jostling for space right outside hadn’t been witnessed by many or one should say any. One could sense that there was a general consensus amongst the family members that my expertise should be reserved for rare occasions and it was a mere coincidence that such occasions never materialized.

The moment arrived while RR senior(S) and junior(J) were away for vacation to grandparent’s. RRJ’s school books needed a pick up from his school before 12 noon on a specific day. Being alone and free from family I had been going for frequent outings with my female friends. Impressed by their carefree driving my emancipated self was eager to give our car a much needed run on the city roads and what better time than when it is not under the protective care of RRS. I set out pretty confidently and 10:30 not being the peak hour for traffic, managed my way reasonably well till I reached just a few blocks from the school. To get off the main road into the by-lane I needed to cut across the road. I was waiting for that little gap in traffic when a giant scorpio van came in the reverse traffic and stopped wanting to make a U-turn. With a giant waiting for me to clear some space and time ticking by the feeling of being under the spotlight was getting ever stronger. I am not too sure what made me decide that the right thing to do was to step on the accelerator. The traffic not being visible behind the scorpio, it turned out not to be the wisest of moves after all. A lot of brakes screeched while I drove on into the by-lane almost running over an on coming motor-cyclist. Whizzing past the sudden confluence of many vehicles I was a bit dazed by the glares from all sides. There have been many instances when I have been known to misread people’s intent in their eyes but I was fairly convinced it wasn’t the case this time. Parking the car near the school I found only a black mark all across the left side of the car the as the tell tale signs of my near miss. The top millimeter of the bumper of a fellow car deposited on ours is not something to lose one’s sleep over, after all what is so bad about a little bit of give and take between road mates.

I could see the pile of books waiting for me but the teachers were not ready to let me come anywhere near without seeing proof of money deposited for fees. So there I was, it was just not the way back home that had to be negotiated but surprisingly I was all for it. I took a few deep breaths and made my way back without much to write about and got the all important little piece of paper. Back in the car, a little pep-talk was need of the hour. “Take it easy, don’t get pressurized into doing any thing, drive confidently” I repeated after myself. A few puffs of deep breaths later I was on my way, a picture of cool calm confidence. The pep talk seemed to have done a world of good as nothing could flutter me. The motorcyclists wanting to quantify the probability of survival against all odds, the buses asserting their space or the autos making last minute decisions on the direction of their path, absolutely nothing could stir me. Happy with the effect I repeated my little mantra one more time but by the time I was reminding myself to drive confidently I realized that very confidently I had driven a good 10 meters past the turn I was supposed to take. My immediate reaction was to come to a halt and put emergency lights on and do some thinking. I did. Not confident of making my way back any other way I started to reverse back with emergency lights announcing to the world to keep away from me for good reason. The people sitting on the road side did there bit by controlling the traffic and I did my bit controlling the car and together we managed to circumvent the little digression and I was back on track humming to the tune on radio.

Do our parents choose jobs for us?

Being the daughter of an academic, having both brothers in academics and being married to an academic is reason enough to not be in academics, and yet the fact is, I am. So is it our parents who choose our careers?

It is hard to deny the influence that parents have on the choices we make. Point of interest being careers, a simple dimensional analysis can be tried to narrow down the important parameters in the game. If we feel that our parents are reasonable and balanced people who are quite aware of what are jobs all about, it is going to be harder to discredit their projection of our future. Specially if the emotional bond is strong and the expectations, however subtle they maybe, are absolutely clear. Now, if there are other strong influences such as teachers in the school or an uncle or aunt it can actually create a second opinion forcing the child at least to consider more than one option and start thinking on their own. Finally, the more dominating the parent is and the more submissive the child is, the decisions are going to be largely parent's wish-centric. Putting these ideas as a questionnaire:

1) strong emotional relation with the parent?
2) high regard for the parent and parent's understanding of the reality?
3) clear expectations?
4) indirect statement of expectations?
5) parents are the only strong influences?
6) strong personality of parent?
7) meek personality of child?

Assuming the ability to meet parent's wishes exist, the more number of yeses we get the more likely it is that we follow the career path that our parents want us to. The inferences that one can make is that as a child if you wish to choose your own path spend a lot of time away from home in the formative years. Listen to inspiring people in various fields, read lot of books. On the other hand if you are a parent encourage child to think on their own starting as early as possible. While have high expectations don't make them very specific: be good and sincere is a non-pressurising expectation rather than be an engineer/doctor. I score pretty much 6 yeses and inspite of all my initial resistances without doubt I have let my parent's wish be my wish. Time to work on the next generation.........

Fish Slices in a Green Curry

This is a simple, tasty fish curry which uses very little spices or oil. While I like to prepare it in microwave but it can easily be prepared in a pan. What you need:

• 1/4 kg thinly sliced sear (=king mackarel = surmai) fish
• 4 garlic pods
• 1 green chilli
• a cup of coriander leaves
• 1/2 teaspoon jeera (=cumin) seeds
• 1/4 teaspoon black pepper powder
• 4 tablespoon coconut milk available in stores
• juice of 1/4 lime or 1 kukkum piece
• Water
• Salt

Take a flat microwavable vessel which you think can just accommodate all the pieces in a layer (don't put them yet). Grind or finely chop the garlic, chilli and coriander leaves. Keep 1/4 of the paste aside and put the rest of it in the vessel and pour enough water so that the liquid will cover fish pieces. Now add lime juice and black pepper powder followed by salt (approx. 2 tsp level) so that the liquid is on the saltier side. Put the fish now and microwave at 60% power for 13 min. Add the coconut milk and put for 2 more minutes. Now add the fresh paste that was kept aside.

It tastes very nice with plain rice. The curry is very watery and has a wonderful combination of mild tartness of lime, freshness of coriander leaves, sting of green chilli smoothened by the dash of coconut milk.

Why Does Coffee Keep Some People Awake All Night?

One cup of coffee a day keeps my sleep away
even if I am tired
I may drink it at any time of the day
in the night I am all wired

The sheer joy of seeing a child grow up around can make one forget how difficult it can be sometimes, I mean for the parents. While we, the parents, want to be the heroes/heroines who are always the cause of joy in their lives, we end being the villains/vamps who don't let them do the very things that make them happy, like stay up all night, scribble on walls, make calls to their friend's (4 year old's) homes the first thing in the morning, not take bath but if start a bath then not finish it, listen to the same story three times in succession and the list is just too long. In the bargain sometimes there are moments when both parties are in agreement and that is pure heaven. Such is the time of night just before we go to sleep with lights off when we have the time for "why questions": questions which begin with a 'why'. He loves it just to delay his sleeping time and we love it because we get to know what is on his mind as he keeps on growing. Initially when he just began to frame sentences most of the questions were to sort out what was bothering him all this while when he understood unfairness but couldn't articulate it. Most of them were pretty difficult to answer, topping the list would be: why so and so pinches me when I am sleeping in the day-care, why grand-parents have to go away every time they come, why do I have to go to school every day etc. etc.

And then thankfully we got technical, the focus being on wipers, the ones that go swish-swish on your windshield on a rainy day. "Why do cars have two wipers while autos only one?" We tried the big versus small windshield logic which worked for a few days but what about a bus. Oh boy! As a last resort we tried the sorry logic which can't be disproved but doesn't make any sense anyway: "people who drive cars like two wipers and people in autos and buses like to have only one." Quite pathetic, ruling out the possibility of any bus-drivers or auto-drivers owning a car but for parents of four year olds stuck with a question at the fag end of the day you must have only one emotion and that is sympathy. Not entirely convinced he let us off the hook several nights to come till he found the answer much to our delight. "Cars have two people in front while buses and autos have one", one wiper per person in front, your honor case is closed.

More growing up and we got philosophical. "Why must we share our things" etc. etc. But one of my favourites came the other night "why can't we be in the middle of the road while cars can?". I had to pause and was about to say that my dear son it is time I told you that it is a big bad world we live in where big bullies get their way but came up with something like if the cars drive on the sides their tyres may get stuck in the holes on the sides. "That is correct....... mmmmm but our shoes can also get stuck in the holes, no?" That was one big hole and my shoes were so stuck.

While for everything else there is your credit card
there are somethings money can't buy
Like answers to the beautiful questions
that begin with a why.

This is a space for me to pause for a while and write about random events or thoughts that colour my life. Where, sometimes dark, mostly light, the waves interfere and diffract but the focus remains always on me and all that is mine.