My dad started the madness. "A trip to Bangalore would not be complete without lunch at MTR", he declared. We discouraged him, because we knew how crowded it would be. But he insisted, adding, "If I die without eating there my unfulfilled soul would haunt you". So as good hosts, my brother and sister-in-law yielded. They were piqued too, on what made the place legendary.
With great expectations and greater appetites, we, the family of self-certified gourmets and good cooks reached the gastronomical paradise at 1 p.m. Entry to paradise was closed and 50 fellow bon-vivants waited outside. Jubilant to be a part of the top 50, we waited..and waited..
Our smug expressions were soon replaced by despair when we heard someone mentioning "token". We discovered that they served meals only in batches, and to reserve your seat, you had to buy tokens in advance. A snooty clerk declared that tokens were available for the 2.30 batch..an hour away.
"We can't wait that long. Lets go to Woodys instead" said Dad casually. "What?",we cried in unison, shocked at his turnaround. How could he do this? He had dragged us there. My sister-in-law fought though, " Daddy, dont you back out now. Let's eat here, if only to find out what's so remarkable about this place." She was right. Crowds thronged to MTR like devotees to the Tirupathy temple or shoppers to Saravana stores.
"Dont you have commitment to your goal? How can you give up on your dream so easily?", she averred passionately. Her appeal made sense. We hurried back to Snooty, who snubbed, "3.15 batch open now. Take it or leave it".
Curiosity, dogged determination and blasted hunger made us take it. We killed the next hour(wishing to kill Snooty instead) at scenic Lal bagh playing juvenile games with my daughter.
At 3 p.m we were back, salivating in anticipation. My feminine charms failed on the gruff doorkeeper who cried open sesame only at 3.45. Gruffy elbowed us in as though we were annakavadis minus the thiru-odus.
We didn't react. Tenacity was the leitmotif of the day. In true epicurean spirit, we attacked everything from the sweet to bisibela bhaath to thayir saadam. After dessert and meetha paan, we felt so stuffed, we needed CPR.
Little wonder that on the drive back home, there was no conversation. The silence was pregnant with food and memories of our exploits. I started to doze, a myriad pleasant thoughts of cozy beds, soft cushions and sweet lullabys, caressing me into a deep sleep.
Suddenly, a giant claw forced my mouth open, holding a tadpole.. trying to feed me. I lashed out with all my strength sending the tadpole hurtling down space. Cometh the claw again, this time holding a rat. Next wriggleth a serpent. "Stoppppppppppppppppppppppp", I screamed, fully awake, shivering and drenched in sweat.
"What happened?", cried Amma. Sipping water to calm myself, I narrated the nightmare to my sadistic fellow gourmands who laughed in amusement as they listened.
Not surprisingly, my christian sister-in-law could explain it. According to her, I had committed the Third Deadly Sin- Gluttony or GULA as it is called in Greek. What I had just witnessed in my nightmare, she said, was a demo of how they punished GULA in hell.
Billions of mortals commit GULA everyday!
Thousands of mortals commit GULA at MTR everyday!
4 sadistic mortals(My dad, mom, brother and sister-in-law) connived in committing GULA with me that very day!
One cheeky mortal-my dad-started it all, becoming the ORIGINAL GULA SINNER!
Therefore, my question to God...
Why was "I" chosen for the demo?
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Thursday, May 18, 2006
Perspirational Genius
When I encounter genius I cry. Sometimes weep. I wonder why? What is it that blows my mind away completely and brings the tears gushing out? Perhaps I am weak. Perhaps I am sensitive. Perhaps I am sublime. Perhaps I am insane.
It then dawns on me that I weep, not because of all the above reasons, but because I want to be that genius, and I am not. In fact, I may never be. I am tired of being Jack of all trades and master of none. I crave virtuosity.
My soul meanders desultorily in search of a meteoric streak of genius that will explode from within me. Is there a meter to indicate if i have it in me? Would I see a blinding ray of light to signal my stroke of genius? Maybe a bell would ring to bring epiphany.
Whatever the signs are, I'll wait, albeit impatiently.
Someone said "Leave your footprints on the sands of time". I can bet he didn't write a "how to" manual on the subject? Because you have only one way to do it. Be a goddamm genius!
Math Genius! Chess Genius! Music Genius! Literary Genius! What genius are you? I ain't one today. But, if genius is 99% pespiration, I still have hope.
I will perspire!
It then dawns on me that I weep, not because of all the above reasons, but because I want to be that genius, and I am not. In fact, I may never be. I am tired of being Jack of all trades and master of none. I crave virtuosity.
My soul meanders desultorily in search of a meteoric streak of genius that will explode from within me. Is there a meter to indicate if i have it in me? Would I see a blinding ray of light to signal my stroke of genius? Maybe a bell would ring to bring epiphany.
Whatever the signs are, I'll wait, albeit impatiently.
Someone said "Leave your footprints on the sands of time". I can bet he didn't write a "how to" manual on the subject? Because you have only one way to do it. Be a goddamm genius!
Math Genius! Chess Genius! Music Genius! Literary Genius! What genius are you? I ain't one today. But, if genius is 99% pespiration, I still have hope.
I will perspire!
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
Tele Buggies
Tele Buggies are people who bug us on the telephone. Here are some I've encountered with tips on how to tackle them..
'Apram'er
Beware of the 'apram'er. Someone who badly wants to have a long phone conversation, but can't take the onus for it. Whenever you pause while talking to him, he pushes you into carrying the baton of the conversation by simply saying ..'apram?' You fall for his bait and carry on about the neighbour and your dog. When you are just about to talk about the milkman, along comes the next 'apram?'. You take off again panting and puffing and wonder after hanging up, how you fall for it everytime.
Try this when you want to put off an 'apram'er--The moment you hear the question 'apram?', in your meanest voice, hurl a 'vizhupuram' back at him. That should silence the dangerous 'Apram'er!
Cut and Runner
He is phobic to long conversations. Maybe someone told him he'l get electrocuted if he held the line for long. Often , the cut and runner would have hung up to calmly sip a cup of coffee while you are still in the middle of an animated conversation.
To avoid being a victim of a cut and run accident, remember to take a deep breath after every 5 words to check if the line is active.
Just about to call'er
He wouldn't have thought of you for ages. But when you call him, he'd swear that you'll live to be a hundred years. The just about to call'er will not only enquire about your family, your health and everything under the sun when you call, but will also have the gall to ask you for a favour -all at your cost!
The next time you find yourself exploited this way, fight back. Tell him teasingly that he could do all his pleasant enquiries when he calls up and not when you call. Or better still, pretend that you are wanted urgently for some errand, so could he please call you back in 5 minutes and hang up abruptly. That should serve him right!
Comma Caller
The most tenacious tele-buggy is the Comma Caller. His cue to begin is your hello. He cuts the small talk and zooms in with his topic of the day. On and on, he goes whether you are interested or not. So eager is he to share his thoughts, that he forgets the fullstop at the end of every sentence. He is all commas and no fullstop and you are superman if you manage to get in a word edgewise. But fret not.
Here's what you should do when he begins. Place the receiver gently on the table, pick up your ipod, listen to a couple of your favorite numbers and while you are at it, take a short nap too. You earned it. After doing all of this, quietly pick up the reciever and cough or sneeze loudly and intermittently for ten seconds. This will surely disrupt the comma caller's flow and make him pause. Listen carefully for this pause and in between coughs, excuse yourself to drink water, adding that it was wonderful talking to him. That's it. You are freeeeeeeee!
And next time do install caller-id on your phone!
'Apram'er
Beware of the 'apram'er. Someone who badly wants to have a long phone conversation, but can't take the onus for it. Whenever you pause while talking to him, he pushes you into carrying the baton of the conversation by simply saying ..'apram?' You fall for his bait and carry on about the neighbour and your dog. When you are just about to talk about the milkman, along comes the next 'apram?'. You take off again panting and puffing and wonder after hanging up, how you fall for it everytime.
Try this when you want to put off an 'apram'er--The moment you hear the question 'apram?', in your meanest voice, hurl a 'vizhupuram' back at him. That should silence the dangerous 'Apram'er!
Cut and Runner
He is phobic to long conversations. Maybe someone told him he'l get electrocuted if he held the line for long. Often , the cut and runner would have hung up to calmly sip a cup of coffee while you are still in the middle of an animated conversation.
To avoid being a victim of a cut and run accident, remember to take a deep breath after every 5 words to check if the line is active.
Just about to call'er
He wouldn't have thought of you for ages. But when you call him, he'd swear that you'll live to be a hundred years. The just about to call'er will not only enquire about your family, your health and everything under the sun when you call, but will also have the gall to ask you for a favour -all at your cost!
The next time you find yourself exploited this way, fight back. Tell him teasingly that he could do all his pleasant enquiries when he calls up and not when you call. Or better still, pretend that you are wanted urgently for some errand, so could he please call you back in 5 minutes and hang up abruptly. That should serve him right!
Comma Caller
The most tenacious tele-buggy is the Comma Caller. His cue to begin is your hello. He cuts the small talk and zooms in with his topic of the day. On and on, he goes whether you are interested or not. So eager is he to share his thoughts, that he forgets the fullstop at the end of every sentence. He is all commas and no fullstop and you are superman if you manage to get in a word edgewise. But fret not.
Here's what you should do when he begins. Place the receiver gently on the table, pick up your ipod, listen to a couple of your favorite numbers and while you are at it, take a short nap too. You earned it. After doing all of this, quietly pick up the reciever and cough or sneeze loudly and intermittently for ten seconds. This will surely disrupt the comma caller's flow and make him pause. Listen carefully for this pause and in between coughs, excuse yourself to drink water, adding that it was wonderful talking to him. That's it. You are freeeeeeeee!
And next time do install caller-id on your phone!
Saturday, May 06, 2006
Kali Amma and The King!
Our family's conversations over filter coffee every morning are exciting discussions that cover anything from politics to gossip to recipes. Its a ritual we enjoy and can't do without. Especially when we critique someone's behaviour. This morning the victim was my mom.
According to the world...Amma is an elegant sophisticated and charming lady who is known for her grace, poise and patience. Someone who thinks before retaliating, never raises her voice and hardly flares up in anger. In brief a benevolent angel who can do no wrong.....
But my dad begs to differ...
When they have an argument, my mom takes Durga's or sometimes Kali's avatar. She retaliates vociferously and defends herself admirably-- and most of the time, wins the argument too. Poor Dad who has been labelled a "ferocious tiger" retreats like a beaten cat meowing back into his den.
I am usually a witness to Amma's kali avatars and this morning, I threatened to expose her "black" side to humanity. A victim of blackmail, my mom begged me not to "tell all". She reminded me of all her sacrifices in raising me and appealed to my gratitude. It didn't work.
Then she tried bribing. She promised to cook all my favorites and wait on me hand and foot like she did when I was in school. I still did not budge.
As a last ditch effort, she tried her final asthra -the brahmasthra. She said that if I truly loved my DAD, I wouldn't do it. "What is the connection?," I asked. Her reason-- spoken like a true pativrata-- exposing her kali avataar would also expose dad's saadhu avataar. Everyone who feared his ferocity would see him as the blue jackal who pretended to be king. Her mighty tiger would then be dethroned and she cant stand that.
That did it. To protect my dad's reputation , I reluctantly gave up blackmail.
Triumphant Amma still oscillates between benevolent Parvathy and angry Kali, and loyalist that I am -I still protect the King.
According to the world...Amma is an elegant sophisticated and charming lady who is known for her grace, poise and patience. Someone who thinks before retaliating, never raises her voice and hardly flares up in anger. In brief a benevolent angel who can do no wrong.....
But my dad begs to differ...
When they have an argument, my mom takes Durga's or sometimes Kali's avatar. She retaliates vociferously and defends herself admirably-- and most of the time, wins the argument too. Poor Dad who has been labelled a "ferocious tiger" retreats like a beaten cat meowing back into his den.
I am usually a witness to Amma's kali avatars and this morning, I threatened to expose her "black" side to humanity. A victim of blackmail, my mom begged me not to "tell all". She reminded me of all her sacrifices in raising me and appealed to my gratitude. It didn't work.
Then she tried bribing. She promised to cook all my favorites and wait on me hand and foot like she did when I was in school. I still did not budge.
As a last ditch effort, she tried her final asthra -the brahmasthra. She said that if I truly loved my DAD, I wouldn't do it. "What is the connection?," I asked. Her reason-- spoken like a true pativrata-- exposing her kali avataar would also expose dad's saadhu avataar. Everyone who feared his ferocity would see him as the blue jackal who pretended to be king. Her mighty tiger would then be dethroned and she cant stand that.
That did it. To protect my dad's reputation , I reluctantly gave up blackmail.
Triumphant Amma still oscillates between benevolent Parvathy and angry Kali, and loyalist that I am -I still protect the King.
Friday, May 05, 2006
Love me back!
When you expect love in return, your love ceases to be unconditional.
How can you ask for unconditional love, when you can't give it?
Love is a "condition". A sweet condition.
How can you ask for unconditional love, when you can't give it?
Love is a "condition". A sweet condition.
Thursday, May 04, 2006
Krithi's Law of Swimming
The day you struggle to swim the breadth of the pool and almost drown, the eight year old boy you want to impress laughs at your inability.
Addendum
The day you finally swim the length of the pool and even dive, he doesn't turn up!
Addendum
The day you finally swim the length of the pool and even dive, he doesn't turn up!
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
Die honorably!
I've always thought I'm invincible. But learning to swim has humbled me.
Today is my eighth day at swimming class and I still can't swim the length of the pool. What a shame! Children do it efffortlessly and I am amazed at how I have let my fear and anxiety cloud my basic instinct for survival.
But I am not giving up. I psyche myself to blow inside the water, do a namaste with my hands then bend, kick and join my legs, while coming out to inhale. Phew!! This isn't easy.
After a few trials of breathing kicking and namasteing, I feel buoyed to swim at the deep end of the pool and call out to eight year old Rohit to watch me(challenging eight year olds can do wonders to your ego).
I dive in and glide gracefully for a few seconds and start my first namaste. This feels wonderful. But suddenly my namaste clashes with another namaste under the water and before I know it I am drowning. " Rohit, heeelllp", I scream. But Rohit can't hear me as even i cant' hear my voice.
I move about in panic desparately trying to clutch something, anything that will save me.
I am terrified.. Of dying? Certainly not. What really scares me now is dying a cowardly ridiculous death. "Woman drowns in a 5 feet pool" the headlines will scream tomorrow. Oh noooooooooo! Can't allow that. I want to die in honor. Don't we all?
In a mammoth effort to save myself from a pusillanimous death, I leap, kick, blow, namaste and ahhhhhhhh find the bar. Eureka. I made it.
I know, that I am living to die someday. But then, I'm dying to live everyday. Today, I am glad to be alive, perhaps to die honorably another day.
Today is my eighth day at swimming class and I still can't swim the length of the pool. What a shame! Children do it efffortlessly and I am amazed at how I have let my fear and anxiety cloud my basic instinct for survival.
But I am not giving up. I psyche myself to blow inside the water, do a namaste with my hands then bend, kick and join my legs, while coming out to inhale. Phew!! This isn't easy.
After a few trials of breathing kicking and namasteing, I feel buoyed to swim at the deep end of the pool and call out to eight year old Rohit to watch me(challenging eight year olds can do wonders to your ego).
I dive in and glide gracefully for a few seconds and start my first namaste. This feels wonderful. But suddenly my namaste clashes with another namaste under the water and before I know it I am drowning. " Rohit, heeelllp", I scream. But Rohit can't hear me as even i cant' hear my voice.
I move about in panic desparately trying to clutch something, anything that will save me.
I am terrified.. Of dying? Certainly not. What really scares me now is dying a cowardly ridiculous death. "Woman drowns in a 5 feet pool" the headlines will scream tomorrow. Oh noooooooooo! Can't allow that. I want to die in honor. Don't we all?
In a mammoth effort to save myself from a pusillanimous death, I leap, kick, blow, namaste and ahhhhhhhh find the bar. Eureka. I made it.
I know, that I am living to die someday. But then, I'm dying to live everyday. Today, I am glad to be alive, perhaps to die honorably another day.
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
I have no excuse
My grandma wants me to be a writer. She also wants me to be a great mother, a successful career woman and a great housekeeper. That is when i am not learning tailoring or anchoring tv shows. So you see, she has a wish list and I being who i am, feel compelled to tick everything off. And if you are wondering how many are pending in the list--Ive done the anchoring, I sing whenever I have an audience(which would be just Patty most of the time), I have a great career, as housekeeper--i keep a decent house. On tailoring, I am yet to score. And ah!! Writing. Call it writer's block, inertia or sheer laziness, I havent put pen to paper in a long time. But now thanks to technology, I can not only write , but get it published too. I have no excuse. So Patty and all of you-- here I am at large all set to share whatever I am excited about. Hang on and visit me often. And Dad--do join me on board!
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