To life .....

Somewhere deep down I think it has finally sunk in that the glass is rarely ever empty. There is much happening in life that can keep one engaged positively. And this positive engagement is what I believe ensures that the glass is never totally empty. In my viewfinder is the little patch of green next to one of our favourite restaurants. It was lunch time, the weather perfect, cool blue sky in the backdrop. That little water body that you see behind the trees, on its day, can stink you out of your mind but luckily  even the wind was blowing the right direction!

The idea of fun

It was funny to see me being tagged in a picture in FB, involved in giving birthday-bums to one of my batchmates during my days as an undergrad. It was funny because it was so uncharacteristic of me. I am and have always been (at least that is what I thought until the picture appeared) so not into the concept of birthday-bums, in fact I am quite anti it and my reaction to such events has typically been to stay clear of people who find it fun. In turn I used to be easily impressed by people who did not want to join the party and could resist the idea of holding someone they like on their birthday by their fours and raising them in the air just to kick their butt. Uurrrghh...

The other concept of fun that I have always found a tad difficult to appreciate is laughing at someone who was not trying to be funny,  that too in their presence. I am amazed how people do it and how many do it!

Anyhow being such a dadi-amma types, who has never known how to have fun, has been great. Really it has been, for one, I have never been spoilt for choices for who I want to hang out with..... And of course as the age tends to near the dadi-amma age at a rapid rate, I can take solace in the fact that my behaviour can only approach the age-appropriate limit!

  

Long time

This painting actually started last winter vacation. The sketch was made with much care and I was really excited about painting it. The painting, however, got off to a terrible start as I was completely out of touch with doing the acrylic paints with less medium (water), that makes it look more like an oil painting.  I had done a few messy petals and left it at that. There is nothing more dissatisfying than a good sketch spoiled by bad painting.

I had kind of forgotten about it till my good friend asked me last week why haven't I painted for the longest of times. That little nudge got me watching a few youtube videos and the one I really enjoyed was this one. It is really nice because she teaches not only how to paint but also how to fix your mistakes as you go along. I was decided up on doing the pear, as in the video, when I found my half-messed sketch in my crafts kit. I must say, that is one thing really nice about doing the oil painting style with acrylics, they are way more forgiving than water colours. They allow you to cover your tracks when the need arises. I had a brilliant time doing this and am hugely satisfied with the end product ......

Serves us right

Our entry, last year, into the tennis playing group in our neighborhood was a bit like baptism by fire. As neither of us (RRS or I) were as good and unlike in a team game where you could choose to hide in the background when you were a bit off color and pretend to be part of the game without being where the action is,  in tennis our shortcomings stood fully-exposed between double faults and unforced errors. The only thing we were good at then was turning up everyday, our game had no choice but to improve. It has been a fantastic addition to our life style. Apart from being a lot of fun learning to play the game and having a great bunch of people to hang out with, it has just seamlessly fit into our schedule. Largely because the court is a two minute walk from home and it is therefore easy for RRJ to join us once he is done with playing with his friends from the next block.

RRJ of course has his own set of reasons to like the whole tennis thing as:

• he gets to watch us play and take the parental role of nagging and giving expert comments like "why is your service so mokka (= bad)" and then proceed on to giving tips on how we could improve it, like "you need to do regular shadow practice"etc.!
• he is not told off for being late in coming back from play.
• he gets to play some more in the park adjacent to the tennis court.
• he gets to play a few shots at the end of our game in a proper tennis court meant for grown ups.
• and the aspect he perhaps loves the most is that without him needing to argue for it, he gets most of the days off from studying as by the time we are done and reach home, the scheduled study hour has elapsed by and there is only time for the bare essentials like food and sleep. He often hops around the house with that look of disbelief that all this is happening for real. 

Thankfully I am in that phase in life where I am getting the hang of how to observe my parental guilt with some detachment and not follow it up with a session of self-flagellation. Unfortunately though, I am yet to reach that phase when this detachment is sustainable even when exams are in sight. I pause my philosophies and tennis for those days and operate on damage-control mode and go through his notebooks, textbooks and worksheets as if it is my parenting that is due for assessment. My beastly avataar had a lump in her throat, when she read the sentence that RRJ had made in his class notes with 'greatest of ease':

On learning hindi

Breakfast table conversation during the summative assessment week.
RRJ: Amma what is the meaning of 'Paltoo'?
Amma: Domestic, why?
RRJ: No….. in the hindi exam we were supposed to make a sentence with it.
Amma: Hmmmm…..
RRJ: Even though I didn't know the meaning, I still managed to write a sentence with it……… Paltoo ki vilom junglee!

Such conversations shake Amma's belief that detachment from RRJ's studies is the way to go. Instead she is wondering if she should to convert into a junglee tiger mom before it is too late.

Blissful times

"Having the Korean soup that you made for me when I was ill, I realised you may not be the best cook but you are the best man for me" said the pretty bride. Listening to her vows it was hard to miss the sight of groom's family glowing with pride and unanimously voting her to be the best person for their much loved son/brother/brother-in-law/mama.

So there we were in Korea, far away from home, much happy celebrating a beautiful event very close to our heart, totally floored by the warmth of our Korean family, enjoying the awesome Korean food between sips of sweet Soju.

If complete happiness exists its soul was in Seoul last week.

Wedding in Seoul!

Among the choices for the movies to rent today, the special one is 'Old Boy': a Korean movie. You see, we are in the mood to embrace everything Korean as the countdown has begun for the day when I will be dancing on the streets of Korea 'aaj mere bhai kee shaadi hai, aaj mere bhai ki shaadi hai.' 

Book shelf

What does our bookshelf tell about us? That we need lot of self-help, and we give it in our case the top shelf. And since the universe seems more often than not to be working at stirring up my irrational beliefs, the most recent addition: 'A Guide to Rational Living', has been a critical one.

Scene1: Father prepares maggi for the child while mother looks on, thinking about the wonderfulness of life in general in spite of the soreness of her stiff neck in particular. In two minutes, the plate with steaming noodles arrives from kitchen, and with in seconds of being placed on the table, gets an accidental push from the ultra-cool-and-super-careless child and lands with a loud bang. Parents look down at the splattered mess and notice in their split vision,  the ultra-cool dude's horror stricken expression. The child unaware of the recent conversion of his parents to rationality was waiting for the hell to break lose like it always does in such situations. But to his utter disbelief one of the rational beings took a gentle u-turn back to the kitchen and put the water on for making another packet of maggi while the other rational being started getting the paraphernalia together to clean up various states of matter gracing the floor, all the while massaging her sore neck.

If you are looking for the path from being neurotic to born again rational, this is the book for you.

Terrific Ts

T1: Trikona asanas, highly recommended. Did feel silly and stiff on the starting day but now it being a few days, not so bad. The triangles are finally taking their shape.

T2: Tawa naans, highly recommended again. Will put up the recipe. Simple, easy and fast.

T3: Tea, it is just the perfect blend. Every day two times, god bless my father and his tea connections.

T4: Tennis, had awesome games last two evenings. Was glad to not mess up with the approaching shots, which has been my pet unforced error. It is a great feeling to be able to hit the ball where you want to. Looking forward to reaching the stage when I can hit it with the power I want to. Totally loved the doubles games last two days but am eager to check out if I can give a serious fight to my doubles partner in singles. Have been following some expert advice on youtube videos, I am sure it is going to show but that will have to wait for another day.

Letting it go

When is a good time to accept that your child is very far from being that little blob of mass with an alien face who needed every minute of your time but more of a grown up individual with a mind of his own? And if anything he needs from you, it is to stop breathing down his neck about every single thing. About TV, about food, about sleep, about studies, about time to leave home, about time to return home, the language…. oh the list is too long.

While RRJ takes  my (our) nagging quite sportingly and continues to be our good friend, I am a little tired of myself being this person who is not able to respect the notion of independence that RRJ seems to be developing at a rapid rate.

About ten days back during his exam week, RRS was traveling, that particular day it was already dark outside, time was well past seven, RRJ was nowhere to be seen and I was wandering in the street telling myself, "he has had it." After a few minutes I decided to check his friend's home in the next block. There I got to know he didn't come back with them. Walking back towards home I saw two thin legs and yellow bat walking up the stairs. I decided to wait and see what would mr. grown up do when he finds the house empty. I heard him opening the bolted door, "hello……. hello, Amma?" then there was silence. Trring… my cell phone rang in my hand, I had no choice but to pick up. "I am back. Where are you?" The guts! Where am I? Anyway as I walked up the stairs with each step I regained my cool and in the most mild manner possible told him that it was too late and I was worried and perhaps in the next hour he should bathe, eat and study for the exam next day. He didn't argue that there was no need to take bath or study. Later in the night while going through the grammar book I learnt a few things, like colours are actually adjectives and not nouns! And in the last page of the book I learnt a few more things:

D. Write five sentences about your mother.

1. my mother will cook nicely
2. my mother tells me the right things when I have fever
3. my mother tells me the right things when I have my exams
4. my mother works in IIT Madras
5. my mother is a 'nise' mother.

I was just so happy to read those sentences. Each of those, I know exactly what he means by them. Collectively, don't they seem to be talking about a sensible, calm and collected person. Perhaps from some angle I do appear like that. Or perhaps my son is indeed so grown up that he knows where what not to write.

Favourite moments of life.....

....... that I have no memory of.

Mush-journal entry

It was during a summer visit to Kerala, they had just come out of his parent's colony and crossed the main road. Walking carefully over the foot path which was more like an obstacle path they were chit-chatting about nothings while minding their steps. Early evening, the traffic on the road was much more than usual, in fact there was a small jam. Suddenly he nudged her saying he will be back and rushed into the jam heading straight to the city bus held up in the traffic. Bewildered by this sudden distraction she looked on, as he reached near the bus and poked at the elbow of this lady in mid-fifties who looked like she had had a long day. Irritated by the intrusion in her private space she turned to look at the irritant with an expression of extreme annoyance. She couldn't hold on to that for too long though as a split second later one could see her straining to recall where had she seen this man before and then 'click' the final jigsaw piece fitted in place and a huge grin spread over her face. The traffic started to move as he headed back to the footpath. She waved at her favourite student from primary class and he waved back.

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!

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.

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.

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”.