A matrimonial requirement

One of my favourite reading items on Sundays is the matrimonial section of 'The Hindu'. We sisters used to go through the malayalam section of the matrimonial especially, having read the whole thing and found that this part is the most amusing.  No, it was not for searching for grooms for ourselves.  It was read for time pass,  to see what people wanted for their children or for themselves and how they put it in the open domain.   I have continued this habit to date.  My husband, every time he sees me opening that section, jokes if I am on the lookout for a new groom for myself.  Then comes the next question, what new am I looking for.

All the time, he knows what exactly I am looking for.  I am looking for those matrimonials that make me laugh, make me pass a remark and make me angry.  It gives me a idea of how men and women give advt either for themselves or for their children.  Some of the most hilarious ones I have come across are as follows:


1.  A prospective groom had given his age, qualifications and that he was living abroad.  Added at the end was HIV -ve.  That was the age when AIDS was in the news and it was talked about as being more among those living in foreign countries.

2.  Nair groom from aristocratic family - this is one that is found very often.  Aristocracy existed in Kerala, yes.  It was abolished long ago.  But there are so many people still living in the past.  Nair families whose ancestors served under kings continue to think they are past of aristocracy.  We have to ask what job these ancestors did ?  But two three weeks ago I found an advt where someone from lower in the caste hierarchy called himself from an aristocratic family.  This when members of this caste should not cover their torsos and their shadows should not fall on a person of the higher caste.  How come he is part of aristocracy ?

3.  A bridegroom, Kama from Hyderabad (I remember the details because he advertised in such big columns repeatedly for two weeks and my friend told me that Kama was a caste in Andhra) needed a wife.  He was 45 and above living in one of the posh areas of Hyderabad.  He was outgoing, broadminded, rich and so on and needed a wife who would look after his child and be someone who would stay at home.

4.  A man above 40 looking for a bride in her late 20s.  What was he thinking ?

The one that got me wondering this sunday was from a prospective bridegroom looking for a girl who was family bonded.  That is a nice quality to expect from a girl.  That she be attached to the family.  But, did he mean she should be bonded to her family, meaning her parents ?  Would he like that in the long run if she loved her family more ?  Or did he expect her to become bonded to his family on marriage.  Bonded - bonded in what sense ?  Bonded out of love ?  Or is it bounded by labour ?  Made me wonder.

 

Natu Panchayat

The other day, driving down to work, I came across an interesting incident.  There was this father, groggy after being woken up from sleep, still in his night clothes and his two sons on the road, dressed tiptop in their school uniforms, shoes and ties in place.  The threesome were waiting for the school van to pick them up.  In the meanwhile, an issue had arisen, I guess.  There was one child complaining to his father, with all actions and pointing to his brother.  The brother was standing quietly, yet nodding his head from side to side.  A sort of indication that all is not true.  Yet, the brother was pointing a finger at him.  All this time, the father, still half asleep was sitting on his bike and trying to listen to the problem, probably praying inside, hoping that the school van would arrive at the earliest.

This reminded me of the natu panchayat's of yesteryears now being shown in movies mostly.  (On the side, taking a class in management, I mentioned the panchayat system and asked the class if they knew about it.  Immediately, one student says, 'Yes'.  Another says, 'Nattamai'.  The third was the best. 'Sombu'.  Which threw the class into another round of laughter.  So much for movies.) 

Anyway, this poor father, still asleep was trying to show interest in his sons little quarrels but was so sleepy.  I slowed down the car but didn't want to invade into their family time.  Anyway, it felt good to be on the road in the morning and see that life continues the same way.  We grow up, but the same things happen everywhere.  I was reminded then of the many panchayat's my parents had to sit in.  The three of us were a handful and with so many quarrels, sometimes, we used to get a whack or two from our parents.

To parents and natu panchayats. 

This Republic Day

For the first time in life, I have not seen the parade on TV or gone for a flag hoisting - things I have not missed till date.  Every republic day and independence day in the past ten years, I have religiously attended a flag hoisting either in college or the university.  If I have missed any, it would be because I was traveling.

This time around, the feeling was missing.  Not the sense of patriotism, but the sense of pride in my country.  The pride that I had, that I am an Indian.  The scams, the Kashmir problem, the Binayak Sen case, and increasing knowledge of caste and creed prejudices that remain entrenched even in urban centers made me pondering.

When I encountered the same issues personally, I felt disgusted and helpless.  I kept quiet not in acceptance but in the knowledge that the person standing before me professing that the caste I belonged to was somehow lesser,  was a fool and a bigot(forgive me for such strong use).  However, it also told me that education, no matter how high(the people whom I encountered were from very well off families and highly educated) does not necessarily educate.  I have not forgotten the incident - no.  The thing that helped me ward it off was the confidence I had that I am lesser than no one.   For that I have to thank my parents.  However, I have to confess, that it did eat my mind as to how I was lesser being talented and educated.  I continues to-date.

So, every time I read the paper and find a similar incident, I understand how someone from a less economic background, impoverished and insecure would feel.  It also told me that this country is not free.  More than half her people suffer, from discrimination; a feeling of being lesser mortals, a feeling of having been left out, sidelined, neglected.

Then there are the poor.  When people are becoming richer and richer on one side, there is a large population who live day to day.  They suffer, quietly.  The independence and republic day is just another day to them.  A day of work.

Whither independence ?  Of course I am happy that I am not under foreign rule.  No doubts about that and I value what my forefathers have done for me.  But then, what have I done ?  Have I done something ?  Not yet.  So, what should I celebrate ?

Escaping Responsibility

The Sabarimala episode is a tragedy. To rub salt into the wound, the cause of the stampede and the reasons for the same have been sidelined. Instead, what has become the core point of discussion is whether the Makaravilakku is man-made or not.

Of course, knowledge about the practices and doing away with something not according to customs is welcome. However, I think it is common knowledge that the light is man-made though pilgrims believe that seeing that light is divine. There are certain boundaries that are unseen and to be untouched. One is where religion and science touch. This line is questioned so much today, that instead of trying to avert tragedies, the finger is pointed at customs and beliefs of people.

A good disaster management and crowd management plan would have saved lives and much more than that averted this tragedy. No one is ready to answer questions as to why vehicles and people were allowed to congregate on the small hill in such mass numbers. Also is missing the answer to police personnel who should have been there to avert such an incident happening. Instead, the matter being questioned is belief of the people.

If that is the question, then the belief that God exists itself can be questioned - can't we. Man needs a reason, a reason to exist. A reason to understand his place in such a large world. A reason to rationalize his suffering. He needs something to place his trust on and believe that something would change his life for the better. That the power he veneres, will help him through the troubles he is facing. That is why lakhs of pilgrims undertake penance and take the arduous trip to Sabarimala. Instead of questioning beliefs, the government would better do to use the money pilgrims are offering in the temple to better use and provide better amenities. The question to be asked is how much of money offered in the temple is used for amenities and better of the Sabarimala complex ? I am sure that the government is spending the minimum and taking the money for other purposes. It has been preparing plans after plans and spending money on plans rather than coming up with something comprehensive.

So, let people believe what they want to believe. Of course, sensitize them to reality but don't question their beliefs and ridicule them, directly or indirectly. Especially when a tragedy like this which is man made and could have averted happens. Take responsibility and do something which changes things for the better. That is what a responsible government should do - but for that matter, where do we have a responsible government today ?

Blog of a blog

I had written a blog when I decided only a countdown will help me finish my book. And then, later, I wrote a blog on how it ended. I failed to write everyday, given the chaos that ruled my life in the middle. So, here are both the blogs

107


107 days to go! That's the target for finishing the book. Taken on this challenge, as nothing else has worked. Missed deadlines, unfinished targets, name it... and I have done it all. So, decided to try and write down what I have done everyday, hoping that it will help me, for whom writing is the most boring task in the world after the long bout of creativity. So, starting today, you will hear all the nonsense that goes in writing a book, dear blog. And hoping that when the count turns 0, I will not have a page more to write. And I will be free like a stork, to go back home after the long migration. To build a nest. To start life again, armed with the experience of the new territory visited and explored.

So, here I go !


How the countdown ended

Well, I did start a countdown - to finish writing a book by May 31st and I forgot to write about it. I finished the book by August 15th. The going on I couldn't relate as I was just too engrossed or pure irritated dependent on the time and day. It was hectic, writing, writing, writing. Sometimes, it felt like it would never end. Sometimes, it was smooth sailing. Sometimes, it felt like smooth sailing but landed me in troubled waters.... Truthfully said, I did do some writing everyday, some days more, some days less, some days nothing at all. Finally, it ended. However, when it ended, I was left empty. I didn't know what to do with the time. I felt like I had lived in a different world and had been transported suddenly to a different one. Felt like in a vacuum after all that stress and strain which took a toll on my health and my normalcy. I used to rage, cry and laugh, more than normal, sometimes inexplicably. Anger was on the tip of my nose all the time, waiting to explode, into flames, to burn anything in its path to ashes, fine as there can ever be. Finally, I did put a full stop and submitted the same. And then there was the void to handle. After raging and ranting, there came a sudden peace that I couldn't take. I felt like I was not working, lazy, felt like I had so much time when I had previously had much.

Took some time to figure out the new way of life. New timings, new routines. Night became day, and day became night. Instead of waking up at 8:30, I had to overnight shift timings to 6:00 in the morning; hit the bed at 11:00 instead of the 1:00 a.m. at night; in the process my body rebelled, protested, tried to shut down. I used to feel sleepy through the day and wide awak when the clock struck 10:00 p.m. Then there was the new routine and regimen to adapt to. Remembering timetables, calculating internals, valuing answer scripts, evaluating assignments. Instead of a few people with whom I interacted, now it is a herd. I have to address a large gathering everyday, and most of the time, my brain is racing, trying hard to think ahead of talking, instead of the slow and steady momentum it had got used to. At the end of the session, I feel nice. However, I didn't feel the high, the kick I got doing research, when I had read a paper and found something interesting, or had come up with something new. I felt sad and was left wondering 'from heaven whereto"....

After four months, my brain still rebels, refuses to follow the regimen. It asks for the old place, the old environment, asks for a walk through the forest, breathing in the smells of the wild flowers. It wishes the quiet and the calm offered by a forest, the music called research, rather than the tumult of the concrete roads with traffic racing to fill every inch of tar.

I need to figure out how these two worlds can co-exist. How best I can adapt ... that is the work now.

Tales told by Mystics - Manoj Das

Prof. Hrushikesha Mohanty, my research supervisor, presented a book to Arun as a momento for a talk he gave. The book turned out much more precious than the talk itself. For me that is, as I knew what Arun was talking about, given that my research area was connected and I had the chance to go through the slides before and ask questions, too.

The book is a collection of stories, fables told by mystics. A lot of stories are ones heard before. However, when read again, they give new insight. Besides, there is timing for everything. And time teaches you a lot of things. It gives answers to questions you asked and never found an answer for. In my case, some answers came through the book. Questions about life, balance between good and wrong, about happiness. Important questions, silly questions, all my questions, that I always wondered about.

The book should be something that is advised in schools as a must read for children and owned by libraries in schools and colleges, I think. For it is easy to read, and at the same time enlightening as such stories always are. The book does have a few typo mistakes and can do with a little editing.

Diwali - the festival of lights

The 5th of November, is Diwali (actually Deepavali) , the festival of lights. Diwali is celebrated to commemorate the victory of good over evil. During Diwali, we light oil lamps(clay lamps usually) called diya. We also burst crackers, wear new clothes and share sweets.

There are many stories surrounding the festival. In the north of India, it is the day Lord Rama returned with Sita and Lakshmana to Ayodhya following his 14 year long exile in the forest after vanquishing the Rakshasa(demon) king, Ravana, thereby tilting the scales towards goodness. In the south of India, it is celebrated as the day Lord Krishna defeated Narakasura(the Asura king) in battle.

Jains and Sikhs also celebrate Diwali. It marks the attainment of moksha by Lord Mahavira and hence is a joyous occassion for the Jains. For Sikhs, it commemorates the return of Guru Har Gobind Ji to Amritsar after freeing 52 Hindu kings imprisoned in Fort Gwalior by defeating Emperor Jahangir.

So, Deepavali is celebrated in all parts of India and in Nepal also.

The habit of bursting crackers stopped once we(my sisters and me) turned twenty or so. However, we do celebrate Diwali, by waking up early, having a bath and praying to God. We get in touch with our family and wish each other.

For most people in India, Diwali is the grandest festival. Companies pay bonus during Diwali. All workers get a bonus actually (non-skilled workers). It is also the time when most families buy clothes, and in some cases, the only time when the whole family gets new clothes.

From childhood, I have seen the joy on people's face once it is September. First we have the pooja days (Navrathri). We pray to Goddess Sarasvathi, Lakshmi and Parvathi. We perform pooja for our books, asking Goddess Saraswathi, the Goddess of Learning to bless us. The next day, is Ayudha Pooja. we do pooja for all the implements we use - from the spanner and screwdriver by the electricians, to the axe-saw blade used by the carpenter, to the bus driven by the bus-driver. It is meant to signify that we hold these objects in esteem as they help in our livelihood. They are the tools which help us in our everyday life. For me, it is my books, my laptop and the stove I use in the kitchen, which help me in my everyday life. I thank that these things help me better myself and perform better. On Vijayadashami day, we pray to God and use these implements. Many children like me, started my education on this day. Most kids have their initiation(vidhyarambam) on this day. Then, a month later, it is time for Diwali. So, the festive mood that starts in September continues till Diwali every year.

I love the culture in India. There are so many festivals, reminding you and giving you the big picture. It helps you remain rooted and brings you closer with your family. It is also a time when we get holidays.........

The Sound of Metal ------ againnnnnnnn

Well, the bum of my car is jinxed. I will have to get an exorcist to get the devil away from it. After having been hit twice on the back, the finale was on 3rd November. We were driving to a wedding reception and had stopped the car at a signal and turned the engine off. The signal being 120 seconds, we, Arun and I believe in saving fuel and reducing the emission of harmful gases. So, we had switched off the car and were yapping away happily. Going for a wedding reception, my husband looked handsome in his formals and he said that I looked great in my silk saree. All other days, I hardly care to dress. All I think about in the mornings is cooking up breakfast and lunch, and dashing off to college. Sometimes, I am worse than a student. My hair is a complete mess when I reach the college, and if I remember, then I comb it. Else, that is my look through the day. So, I guess Arun was happy that for once, my hair was in place and I had worn a little jewellery, which again I do very very rarely. So, both of us were sitting there yapping about this and that when our world was shaken. There was a huge thud and both of us hit out heads against the roof, went forward and came down. Yes, fools that we were, we hadn't worn our seat belts(Please, please wear your seat belts even if you are dressed for your own wedding). An auto-rickshaw had come in full speed and hit us from behind, throwing us up and down, and our car had inturn hit the Maruti Zen that was standing in the signal a feet away in front of us. All this despite our car having had its hand brakes on. It took us two minutes to gather ourselves up. Both of us rubbing our heads, looked at each other and got out of the car. To find that our boot had caved in and our bonnet had sunk in. Thank god it was an Indica, made of heavy metal, and not our Maruti 800. It would have crumpled like paper and the auto might for all you know have been sitting comfortably next to us, all dead.

The driver said that the brakes didn't work. That was a total lie. He had either dozed off or was drunk and had rammed his vehicle into ours. The sound of metal was too much to bear. It rings even today, five days after in my head. Now, I am scared of other drivers, of their capacity to harm others, even when they are stationery. What can you do on the road if drivers don't care at all.

Luck is too much to place your life on. So, for this I turn to God. The only thing both of us were thankful about was that we were not hurt. The huge amount we have to pay(despite the insurance) is painful. But, it is okay compared to the fact that all of us are safe(The auto driver had hurt his teeth and nose, otherwise is fine. The elderly gentleman in the Maruti Zen was not hurt too).

Hope people drive safely and are as allergic to the sound of metal on metal as me.

Vacation Time

Back to college for work and now, am finally getting into the routine. The pace is very slow, hardly any motivation, thereby creating the need for self motivation.... which is difficult to come by. However, it is november after the exams and so, it is time for vacation. Yes, at the end of every semester, we get a vacation, two weeks during winter and four weeks during summer. It is one of the perks we get for being a teacher in a college. Okay, government staff get more. Six weeks in winter and eight weeks and more in summer.

I am excited and scared about the vacation. Excited because I have time for myself. Scared as to what I will do with all that time. With the last two years gone in a haze, having worked even on a sunday, I don't know what I will do for two weeks of total off. Shall I paint, or join some singing classes to continue something that I let off in school. Hmmmm..... or shall I read all the novels I wished to read in the last two years and kept putting off due to work. Or is it going to be hardcore research - software testing. Or shall I eat and sleep, thereby catching up on all that sleep I lost. Ya...... that will make everyone else jealous :). What am I supposed to do ?

I have been trying and trying to draw up a plan, but a few days have gone by in the trying to plan activity. At this rate, my vacation will pass me by.

Still trying to plan.....

Manufacturing defect

Yesterday, talking about students in the staff room, I heard a staff tell that a particular student somehow gets away with things. While others can't. Isn't this something that is heard so often, I thought ? Something that you experience at home, at the workplace, generally in life. You might be the hard working one, but someone else takes the laurels. Similarly in all spheres of life. In the class room, there are students who get away with their pranks, while others get thrashed(not literally) for playing a small one, that too innocuous. Then there are siblings, where one sibling gets beaten all the time, yet the one inflicting the injury gets away with it often. Meaning, besides getting beaten, the former takes the added hurt of being unprotected. Then, there is the workplace where every working person comes across this so often. Getting passed for a promotion, getting the back slap individually for team work. It happens even in the family. The person inflicting the hurt gets the sympathy whereas the one who goes through it, whose dignity and self respect gets eroded is blamed. Adding insult to injury.... is that what they call it. But that is light. In case of personal relationships, talking about it outside is difficult. However, if tears will run down your cheeks at the click of a button, or if you are old, or sick, then no matter how bad you are, sympathy is always with you.

Why is this so ? Each of us reads the proverb 'Never judge a book by its cover'. Still, how often do we do it. How often are we judged by our appearances. I remember my sister's experience. She was one who used to work hard and at the same time have fun, openly. She believed in that. However, I was a little different. I was someone who used to work, and have fun, however not openly. Especially in front of teachers. Out of their purview, I would have fun. Somehow, I separated the two. She joined the same college when I left, for the same course. And she being used to doing everything openly, got caught and often scolded. That was okay by her. The most injurious part was when the staff used to tell her how good a student I was and how bad she was. How they couldn't believe I had a sister like her. That caused her a lot of hurt. She used to keep complaining. I felt bad for her. I could not completely understand for I personally had not gone through such an experience. However, the hurt in her eyes revealed all.

Why can't people take others for what they are ? Why judge ? And especially, why base your judgement on the superflous, without knowing exactly what is going on ? When it happens to me, I wonder why people don't see the truth. Wonder why they are so blind. Why doesn't man use his experience when he relates to people. Each of us has definitely had an experience where we have been misjudged ? So, why not remember it when we are passing judgement on others ? Or is this the way we have evolved, with a defect. Manufacturing defect.

In Istanbul - with Orhan Pamuk

I was in Istanbul this weekend, courtesy Orhan Pamuk...... no, not really, virtually. That is what his book did. Took me to Istanbul, to Nisantasi and the other surroundings of Istanbul. The yalis, beautiful and burning, so much a part of the identity. Not to mention the pashas. The view of the Golden Horn, the smell of the Bosphorus....... Pamuk shows how a person identifies with a city, and the city lives inside you. How one becomes part of the city, breathes the city, understands and lives the city.

I felt the 'Huzun' get into me as I read the book. It did really get me melancholic, a strange kind of melancholic at the end of it. No, I did not cry, nor did I feel discontent. Actually, resigned is the feeling, and it did take over me powerfully.

Istanbul is about culture, the co-existence(not happy always of course), the resignment. The book shows the amount of research and reading he has done. It also shows how he has breathed the city. The only thing lacking was the food aspect. Towards the last fifty pages, when I ruminated over what I had read and assimilated it, I found that food was one aspect of the Istanbullu culture that he had not spoken about much and wondered why. Was it because he wasn't a food fanatic. But then, in his early days he speaks about how he was hungry and kept eating. Finally, towards the end, he does speak about food, but in passing. He does not attach Huzun with the food of Istanbul. He does not speak about how the smell of the food added to the Huzun. This because, he has discussed how every aspect added to Huzun. I wondered why ? Or is it that is is by default so.

I guess any city that has a river, large lake or a seashore has a more definite personality than those that do not have. Because, they become the focal point of the place. The point which infuses life and takes it. The point that gives continuity between generations, aids transformation and enriches culture. So, it is for the Bosphorus with reference to Istanbul.

Whenever they showed Istanbul on the TV, I always wondered why I felt a tinge of sadness. No, I am not telling it in hindsight. The music that played along with the pictures were oriental - maybe that was it. Or was it because the places looked old. Or was it because the pictures had people who were not dancing and laughing. Rather it had people who looked resigned, not content. Now I understand. Pamuk has spoken about a city like no one I have read. His love for the city(may I call it that) comes thru the way he writes about her. Of course, with fifty years spent in a city, it does define you totally. But then, how many people put that in words. Or how many people think about it that way.

Reading Istanbul, I am reminded of my home town. The place I grew up. She has a beautiful river passing through her. Trichy has culture, old glory(not as much today), architecture and music. However, westernization is taking over here too. When I reminiscence about my Trichy, I remember the bridge over the river and spending sunday evenings with my parents silently looking at the river flowing by, the breeze gentle on your face. I also remember her fury, when she overflowed and flooded the city. I remember the fort area and the Rani Mangamma palace. All falling prey to the new. The old places becoming older. However, I love my place and she is still the best in the world. Pamuk through his novel helped me bring out in words what I felt for Trichy.

Above Average by Amitabha Bagchi

I spent saturday and sunday reading Amitabha Bagchi's 'Above Average'. The book I must say(according to me) didn't reach there. Ok, first the positive. The english was good, the writing style direct and expressive. There are a lot of incidents related in this book, all intertwined. Some hilarious, and some making you sad. One of the good things is that it speaks about places in Delhi, especially Mayur Vihar and gaves a rather good account of how the view would be. The book is good for light reading.

But then, the book did not leave me with anything at the end of it. Ok, it is a first novel from someone who is not exactly a writer(meaning, not a writer by profession). I understand that. Yes, it is the life of Arindham Chaudhary as seen from his eyes, his views and his experiences. But somehow, there is something missing that I am unable to pinpoint. It feels like the author has not revealed something and has left it unsaid. It feels like out of 360 degrees, something like 90 degrees of the picture is blurred. It is not like the ones where the end is left to the reader to choose. No, it is not that. It is like he didn't want to reveal some aspects of the character/characters. He wants to protect them, yet writing a story about them. Only the superflous layers have been shown. In case of some, there is only a mention of them where required.

Maybe I am growing old and the book is meant for students, meaning people of that age. The college stories are okay though some of them feel like they were introduced to add some effects. Besides, the IIT campus life has been discussed in some other books and it feels like a continuation of the same. Understandable that campus life cannot be different.

It was not a book that was rivetting. Rather, it was a book I put down many a time and picked again, hoping I would see something different in the pages to come. The last few pages just summed up or hastened to bring things to a conclusion. And when it was over, I wondered what I got from the book.

Maybe I went in with expectations. Of finding something, of learning something. The only thing I noticed is the way the stories and incidents are presented, in and out, intermingled.

(The above is my personal opinion only).

A kid's fantasy

The other day, when returning home, I had a tiny tot, most probably going to play school, coming in full speed in front of the car and shouting 'stop, stop'. Usually, I get angry with parents who let their kids play on the roads unwatched. I also stop and tell such kids to take care and stay away from the road. But that day, I decided to indulge in this kid for whatever reasons, I still don't understand. So, I stopped the car. He said again, 'Stop, Stop'. I said okay. Then he turned around and looked in all directions. Then he walked to the side of the road, and said, 'Ok, Go'. I took some time to start the car again. Immediately, he announced, 'You can go'. I laughed at the kid. He probably decided to play the policeman on the road. I could see him in the rear view mirror, smiling happily and clapping his hands at having successfully stopped the car and played the part of a policeman.

Kid's always have these fantasies of playing policeman, fireman, teachers, doctors, drivers.... As a kid I don't remember having any such fantasy, though I used to take class for my sisters. There used to be a board at home and every holiday, I used to take some class for my sisters, or used to learn writing on the board. So, sometimes I wonder, whether it was this that has made me a teacher today. It is strange what we fantasize on as kids, and how, those jobs become worthless when we grow up. Especially those of policemen and firemen. Most kids play these roles but wouldn't think twice about them when they grow up.