It is Saturday. A day of the week I look forward to for multiple reasons. Start of the weekend is probably the last of the reasons, as to me, everyday is weekend and life itself a never-ending weekend. My Saturdays are special because they start with this absolutely super filter coffee that my mom makes. Here’s an excerpt of our conversation over coffee:
Amma: Yes Baby. I am ready. Why don’t we trot out to Ratna café for some Idli Vada
I: Po Ma. Vera Velai Illai
Amma: How about Besant Nagar Sevai kadai which you’ve been threatening to take me for over a year now?
I: Amma, please, I don’t feel like driving now
Amma: (Opens fridge with a sigh to plan menu for the day) Ey.. Beans carrot irukku di, un super pulao sappitu rombha naal aachu. Panni Kuden..”
I: Maska will get u nowhere mom. I am not making anything.
All this while I have been only partially paying attention to what she said because I have The Hindu Property Plus in hand and am busy underlining interesting finds to start my tele-calling exercise. “Amma. Listen -Penthouse in Valmiki Nagar .Price negotiable", I call out.
Shall we go see it? replies Amma(Pupils dilate. Drooling begins) She reacts like this because she instantly goes down memory lane to the time when, walking hand in hand with my Dad in some posh locale , the two of them used to check out the houses they passed and remark “Damn-Good-This-House. Dash-Good-That-House” - alternatingly in a silly sing-song way and get back home feeling as if they’ve lived royally in every one of those palatial bungalows.
My tele-calling and tele-apartment-shopping stops after half an hour or after hearing a few over a crore kind of prices(whichever is earlier). At this point Appa joins me to discuss shooting real estate prices and our dropping share prices (if you are thinking, ‘wow, she must be loaded”, then I’ve achieved the desired reaction.).
My friends are amused as to why I chase after penthouses et all I have no intention of buying. The same reason men chase women they have no intention of marrying I suppose.
But on deeper introspection and analysis of symptoms, I have diagnosed that this is a dreaded congenital disorder affecting Dr.TNB’s clan. It cannot be cured ever, because we will always want that one room more and keep sighing and singing “damn good this house, dash good that house” today and every Saturday.
P.S: I am live blogging this today and its great fun. Amma has resigned to the fact that this is just another Saturday. She’s made the most delicious Pongal and Gothsu and served me at the PC as I work on my blog. As usual she started out by asking me for sevai(idiappam) and ended up doing me sevai(service). Love you Mom. Can’t wait for next Saturday.
Saturday, March 31, 2007
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Forty-Plus Friendships
None of my friends (and a few close relatives who are more of friends) over forty years of age like to be addressed as a forty-plus friend. Don’t know why the truth bothers them so much. ( I am ok with being thirty plus) . To me their forty plus wisdom, maturity and intensity make them even better as friends. Their sanity and stability juxtaposed with my lack of both makes it a balanced and super friendship.
I am not always insane though. The sane me surfaces whenever I have to bail the Forties out of their mood swings and mid-life crises.
I only wish these adorable forties knew how precious and wonderful they are and took care of their health. Because, they have an incredibly selfish younger friend who wants them around and active when she goes through her mid-life crisis.
Is that too much to ask? ( maybe I should advance MY crisis by a decade!!!!)
I am not always insane though. The sane me surfaces whenever I have to bail the Forties out of their mood swings and mid-life crises.
I only wish these adorable forties knew how precious and wonderful they are and took care of their health. Because, they have an incredibly selfish younger friend who wants them around and active when she goes through her mid-life crisis.
Is that too much to ask? ( maybe I should advance MY crisis by a decade!!!!)
Monday, March 26, 2007
POnzzzzzzzzziyizzzzzzzn Selzzzzzzzzzzzvzzzaaaaaaaaaaaaaaanzzzzzzzzz
My grandma is one of the faithful readers of my blog. I love writing for her.Even if she has to be given a printout and explained the context everytime I post something. Even if she feels i should be writing for The Hindu or I am wasting my time. Even if, after reading my ramblings, she always comes up with"Ellam Seri. Thamizh le ezhudina evalo jora irukkum?"
She urges me to read thamizh novels so I can improve my vocabulary and start writing in thamizh.
I want to. I really want to. But there is a problem. Within 5 minutes of focussed thamizh book-reading, I fall asleep. Instant sedative.
But you know how grandmas' voices can be. Keeps taunting one like an asareeri.
To delight Patty and improve my sense of self worth, I picked up a couple of thamizh books from a friend who also gifted me Ponniyin Selvan in the hope that I would one day graduate to reading literature.
After toiling through the 2 lovely books for over 2 months, I have graduated to Ponniyin Selvan today. z z z z z z z z z z z z z zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
She urges me to read thamizh novels so I can improve my vocabulary and start writing in thamizh.
I want to. I really want to. But there is a problem. Within 5 minutes of focussed thamizh book-reading, I fall asleep. Instant sedative.
But you know how grandmas' voices can be. Keeps taunting one like an asareeri.
To delight Patty and improve my sense of self worth, I picked up a couple of thamizh books from a friend who also gifted me Ponniyin Selvan in the hope that I would one day graduate to reading literature.
After toiling through the 2 lovely books for over 2 months, I have graduated to Ponniyin Selvan today. z z z z z z z z z z z z z zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
Saturday, March 24, 2007
My yellow STUNNER
I drive a yellow car. Just bought it a couple of weeks ago. When I chose yellow, I did it spontaneously because I just love the colour. Also, I have pretty much done the rounds on all the other colours in my previous cars. So why not a yellow?
My yellow car is obviously a stunner. A stunner usually invokes only two types of reactions from the observer. Either a WOW or an ARGGHHH. Only, the wow my yellow stunner invokes may actually mean “ARGGH. How could she do this?” These observers don’t know that I am adept at figuring out whether their wow is a wow or an arrgghh. Maybe they do. That’s why they suffix the “WOW” with.. “I mean…TOO MUCH..COOL” etc. ( relax I know what you are trying to tell me). Some people get gutsy enough to ask me “ How come you chose yellow? Your daughter must lovvve it”. (Hey the mother loves it even more!) Some others actually tease me outright on my choice.
As you can see I am having a good time making out who’s honest and who’s not. But no offense. People have their views as they get to see the yellow more, not I sitting in the drivers seat.
But my yellow stunner becoming such a hot topic of debate drove me to do some research on effects of colours on people and colour connotations. My research tells me that inherently, people are afraid to be stunning, daring and different. They would rather blend.
On yellow I found that cheerful sunny yellow is an attention getter. While it is considered an optimistic color, people lose their tempers more often in yellow rooms, and babies will cry more. It is the most difficult color for the eye to take in, so it can be overpowering if overused. Yellow enhances concentration, hence its use for legal pads. It also speeds metabolism.
So by corollary, if people honk louder at me in traffic, it is my yellow working its magic on them. I didn’t break no rules!
But, who cares about psychobabble. Cheers to my yellow stunner!
My yellow car is obviously a stunner. A stunner usually invokes only two types of reactions from the observer. Either a WOW or an ARGGHHH. Only, the wow my yellow stunner invokes may actually mean “ARGGH. How could she do this?” These observers don’t know that I am adept at figuring out whether their wow is a wow or an arrgghh. Maybe they do. That’s why they suffix the “WOW” with.. “I mean…TOO MUCH..COOL” etc. ( relax I know what you are trying to tell me). Some people get gutsy enough to ask me “ How come you chose yellow? Your daughter must lovvve it”. (Hey the mother loves it even more!) Some others actually tease me outright on my choice.
As you can see I am having a good time making out who’s honest and who’s not. But no offense. People have their views as they get to see the yellow more, not I sitting in the drivers seat.
But my yellow stunner becoming such a hot topic of debate drove me to do some research on effects of colours on people and colour connotations. My research tells me that inherently, people are afraid to be stunning, daring and different. They would rather blend.
On yellow I found that cheerful sunny yellow is an attention getter. While it is considered an optimistic color, people lose their tempers more often in yellow rooms, and babies will cry more. It is the most difficult color for the eye to take in, so it can be overpowering if overused. Yellow enhances concentration, hence its use for legal pads. It also speeds metabolism.
So by corollary, if people honk louder at me in traffic, it is my yellow working its magic on them. I didn’t break no rules!
But, who cares about psychobabble. Cheers to my yellow stunner!
Friday, March 23, 2007
OPEN SESAME!
Nobody opens doors for me. And I’m not talking about the doors of opportunity. I am talking about simple manual elevator doors.
When you take the elevator alongwith your friend/colleague (any equal in terms of physical ability) you would expect that, when the lift stops, your companion volunteers to open the door just as you do. Eventually, one of you moves faster than the other and the door gets opened.
In this whole process, there is no discomfort even if you ended up opening the door, because the other person came forward or at least made a polite gesture.
But here’s what happens in my case. When the elevator stops, my companion(gender no bar, salesmen no bar) invariably suffers a momentary paralysis attack and goes into complete stupor. I am expecting this moment because I am almost always exploited on this aspect. So I try and outwit that person. Pretend to be in stupor too.
Stupor versus stupor. Tick. Tick. Tick.Tick. TICK TICK WHAMMM! That's my panic attack propelling me stronger than the force of gravity in the direction of the door. Out shoots my hand to open it.
I LOSE.
Stupor doesn’t work for me. So I get creative and try other tactics. I fiddle with my cellphone or my watch at that precise moment to keep my hand from rushing to the door. Once I even tried a mosquito-bite-on-my-foot excuse to bend down and get the companion to open. Sometimes this works, but only partly. Which means: the companion opens door, steps out and BINGO-stupor strikes him again. He walks out in comatose condition and gets away without waiting to help me close the door behind us.
The extra polite recorded voice from inside the lift that beckons me to “PLEASE CLOSE THE DOOR” sounds to me like a saucy “Ha! Lost again? Face it. You are a born DOOR-OPENER. Go on now. Close it”.
I WILL. DAMN IT#$$%%^^&^$#@@!$%^^&&#$%^^^&*
These days I take the stairs leaving companion to fend for himself.
“Sado-masochistic” you say. But “Companion go to hell”, say I.
(The elevator takes you there faster). HE HE HE!
When you take the elevator alongwith your friend/colleague (any equal in terms of physical ability) you would expect that, when the lift stops, your companion volunteers to open the door just as you do. Eventually, one of you moves faster than the other and the door gets opened.
In this whole process, there is no discomfort even if you ended up opening the door, because the other person came forward or at least made a polite gesture.
But here’s what happens in my case. When the elevator stops, my companion(gender no bar, salesmen no bar) invariably suffers a momentary paralysis attack and goes into complete stupor. I am expecting this moment because I am almost always exploited on this aspect. So I try and outwit that person. Pretend to be in stupor too.
Stupor versus stupor. Tick. Tick. Tick.Tick. TICK TICK WHAMMM! That's my panic attack propelling me stronger than the force of gravity in the direction of the door. Out shoots my hand to open it.
I LOSE.
Stupor doesn’t work for me. So I get creative and try other tactics. I fiddle with my cellphone or my watch at that precise moment to keep my hand from rushing to the door. Once I even tried a mosquito-bite-on-my-foot excuse to bend down and get the companion to open. Sometimes this works, but only partly. Which means: the companion opens door, steps out and BINGO-stupor strikes him again. He walks out in comatose condition and gets away without waiting to help me close the door behind us.
The extra polite recorded voice from inside the lift that beckons me to “PLEASE CLOSE THE DOOR” sounds to me like a saucy “Ha! Lost again? Face it. You are a born DOOR-OPENER. Go on now. Close it”.
I WILL. DAMN IT#$$%%^^&^$#@@!$%^^&&#$%^^^&*
These days I take the stairs leaving companion to fend for himself.
“Sado-masochistic” you say. But “Companion go to hell”, say I.
(The elevator takes you there faster). HE HE HE!
Friday, March 09, 2007
My first TV commercial
I modelled for Dinakaran newspaper. The commercial will be aired on Sun TV starting tomorrow, everyday till the end of the World Cup series.
After a two year compering stint with Jaya TV, doing a TV commercial was a totally different, yet BORING experience. 16 hours of shooting for a 40 seconds commercial(in which I appear for 15 seconds) vis-à-vis one hour of shooting for a half an hour program as anchor. Big difference.
What I did find exciting though was that I got to dub my own voice.
Also I met several interesting people who wanted to give an arm and a leg for that 15 second appearance. And some gifted children who stole the show by being absolute pros belting out numerous variations in expression that the director wanted.
After a two year compering stint with Jaya TV, doing a TV commercial was a totally different, yet BORING experience. 16 hours of shooting for a 40 seconds commercial(in which I appear for 15 seconds) vis-à-vis one hour of shooting for a half an hour program as anchor. Big difference.
What I did find exciting though was that I got to dub my own voice.
Also I met several interesting people who wanted to give an arm and a leg for that 15 second appearance. And some gifted children who stole the show by being absolute pros belting out numerous variations in expression that the director wanted.
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