Tuesday, April 24, 2007

My Quit India Movement

I am a patriotic Indian and will do anything short of dying for my country. But this post is about my Quit India Movement-- My first step to quit India, to visit a foreign land, just for a vacation. Just to prove a point!

I am not your archetypal drooler who is enamoured by everything foreign. I am aware and appreciate the beauty of my country. But at some point it got to me, that in all my 31 years on Planet Earth, I hadn’t once traveled out of India to a foreign land. How does it matter, one might say! But, for someone who made her passport ten years ago and has waited patiently for a stamping till it came up for renewal-- it does matter a great deal!

I envied the lucky ones who were sent on all-expenses paid trips to exotic lands while I slogged to win sales contests only to fall slightly short of the target for Mauritius getting Mont Blancs instead (I have quite a collection of them, incidentally). Aim for the moon and you will reach the stars, they said. I did. Aimed for Mauritius and got Mont Blancs.

Why did I not attempt to take a foreign vacation? Maybe I wanted it come easy to me. Maybe I waited to see in what manner it would happen to me, if I didn’t make a conscious attempt to break the jinx.

I waited. And waited. Before I knew it my passport came up for renewal. That’s when then nightmares began. The same horrifying nightmare every night—A scene of me at the passport office patiently waiting my turn, when a condescending clerk would gently take me aside to advise, “Don’t bother with renewal, my child. India is such a beautiful country. Bharath Mata Ki Jai etc”. He seemed so real. So eerily prophetic.

Moved by my pain, my dad took my horoscope to a renowned astrologer. He hoped as I did, that the astrologer would give a placebo response that would put hope in my heart and a date in my mind. But alas! It was not to be.

The astrologer, after a long hard look at my horoscope-- took off his glasses in an exaggerated gesture. A sure, ominous sign that bad news would follow. “Don’t worry”, he said, “ Your daughter would have the world at her feet in as short a while as possible.” Translated, it meant, “So what if your daughter doesn’t go abroad, she will rock in India”.

At that instant, I realized that an emergency caesarean procedure was in order. There was nothing “normal” about my first foreign trip. I acted fast. I couldn’t let the prophecy of the darned astrologer come true.

I planned a Dubai trip with my family in a tearing hurry. My nightmares didn’t stop though. The face of the passport office clerk was getting clearer. I could even distinguish his features. He had an aquiline nose and long eyelashes. Disgusting combination. What’s more, the astrologer had somehow wormed his way into the scene, with an “I-told-u-so” expression pasted on his face.

I swore to prove them wrong and prayed fervently that I could. The tickets were booked. My visa came, albeit with some struggle. The D_day approached. I packed mindlessly. It didn’t matter what I wore. Quit India mattered.

I still had 6 hours to go for the flight. My nightmares became daymares. Anything could go wrong. Murphy tied for number one position alongwith astrologer and clerk on my hate list.

Finally, after what seemed like(and was) a lifetime wait, I stood at the emigration counter for the first ever stamping in my passport. When the stamping did happen, it was too rapid. A tad too fast, that my weak heart struggled to cope. I wanted to prolong the moment. All at once I could see a million white doves breaking free, wings flapping. Some angels in white frocks waving their wands saying tata to me ( blame it on Bharathiraja). Some trumpets blowed signaling my victory. I looked out breathlessly and caught the eye of my brother standing on the other side, beaming with joy. He waved out and made a thumbs-up sign. Later on, he assured me that he saw the angels and doves too. Sweet brother.

I went on to Dubai and had a fantastic time.

I am now “Foreign Returned”. Finally qualified to tell many an aspiring foreign traveler “Going abroad is no big deal. Bharath Mata Ki Jai!”

I have earned this privilege.
-----------------------------------------

P.S: My sincere thanks to the passport office clerk of my nightmares and the astrologer whose steadfast support made my Quit India Movement successful.

Tuesday, April 03, 2007

Ulysses and I

Kalavum Katru Mara means "Learn to steal and forget it". Not to be taken literally of course, the saying appeals to one’s passion to learn, discover and experience..

I have tried learning …
Carnatic
Hindustani
Violin
Bharatnatyam
Kuchipudi
Salsa
Veena
Drums
Tailoring
Sketching
I am a master of none of the above.
To be brutally honest, I have to admit that I have not achieved more than a minimal level of proficiency in any of these.

Then, why learn? Why Be a Jack of All Trades?

Why try something new all the time? I am mystified.


I have written a post earlier called “Perspirational Genius” which was an exalted perspective of my lack of mastery and my love of genius. I would love to discover a single streak of genius that will keep me focused on one of the above.

Will I then be at peace?

Maybe not!

Perhaps like Ulysses I am “always roaming with a hungry heart”, yearning to travel and discover what lies beyond. A few days of dullness or apathy is a pause. A dead-end. My voyage has no boundaries.
I need to hurry.
I need to run.
I need to move on.

Sunday, April 01, 2007

E-Squares

Writing something about nothing is an art practiced by few. I have nick named the practitioners “Edhukeduthaalum Ezhuthaalars(E-squares). To the E-squares, a smell from the kitchen, a sneeze, a morning or simply just being, are causes to write.

I picture them breaking out into a sweat with palms itching every two hours if they don’t write about what’s on their mind. Blogging is the biggest miracle to happen to them as they can write and instantly get an audience too.

I am writing this because I am an E-Square too. But a Eppovaavadhu Ezhuthaalar!
This means I write only when I feel dizzily pregnant with ideas getting all restless and laden with guilt.

Obviously I am extremely jealous of the other kind of E-Squares. Because for every one word I write, they write ten thousand.

But watch out for me! I ain’t giving up. I intend teaming up with the other kind of E-Square so I feel the rush more often and perhaps one day create my magnum opus too!

An Innocent Primrose Morning

I open my eyes at dawn
A serene rosy dawn
A lovely silken dawn

Take a deep breath
Feel its beauty
How wonderful to be alive

Right next to me
A little primrose bud
Sways and stretches
Wriggles a little
Did I hear it coo?

I move closer to it
Keen to smell it
Feel its breath on me
Press my lips to its tiny forehead
Kissing it. Smiling.
Willing it to smile back

Open your eyes little primrose!
Light up my rosy morning!
Blossom ever so sweetly and lazily.
And love me as I love you!

With a gentle shudder
It opens a cute reluctant little eye.
Winks at me
Tentative, yet titillating
Oh come on, baby primrose!
Wake up my sunshine
And make my day.

One last lazy stretch
Then I behold its dancing eyes
And a guileless wondrous smile

My beautiful baby princess
My little primrose
Blossoms awake.
Joyous as ever
To greet
Another innocent morning!