I was reading something that Sri Sri Ravi Shanker said on decision making. He says "freedom of choice leads to confusion and indecision." It makes perfect sense.

We have discontinued our daughter's preschool. I wasn't entirely convinced it was the right decision and desperately sought some divine sign that it was okay. For some time she seemed to be coping well but relapsed into cries at the school and was not exactly mixing with her classmates which was the primary intention of sending her to play school. Most of the kids are older. Two - years olds' are better with few children in the same age group who are similar in temperament. I guess the environment was not compatible. There were no children for the toddler group which would have been better. I so wish there was a mother- toddler group in town. I have noticed that children going to day cares from an early age do have some advantages. They are usually more social and less shy and we thought a play group would be the best of both worlds - few hours of social interaction. But we were prepared to go ahead only if she was comfortable with the idea. A month down the line I realised it wasn't working and to avoid any negative thoughts brewing in her mind about schooling, I thought it best to pull her out. We can wait.
I can't help but feel fortunate that I am not forced to send her away to play school like so many working parents. For many its an easy decision to make for there is no choice. The child often ends up spending a full day under foster care and at a very early age.
My daughter is 2 years and 3 months old and hardly needs me. And I am learning to live and cope to being pushed to secondary status in terms of importance in her life! I am reclaiming my space, lying neglected in months of dust. And I can't help but feel a contentment when it comes to my daughter... that I have given her my best and I couldn't possibly have done more. She is a happy toddler, independent, assertive and loads of fun. She is talkative, loves role playing and likes to be read to. She is a non fussy eater. She eats with the rest of the family, and eats what they eat. She likes to paint... and splash in her bathtub! Likes Andy Pandy and Mister Maker on CEEBEEBIES ...She is enjoying her toddler life to its fullest.
I can look ahead... without guilt or regrets... at a job well done. Its a good feeling.

I left my two year old crying at her school today. On the first day, she didn’t know what was in store and plunged into the waters without a problem. On the second day I had to sit in her class with her clinging on to me fiercely! And then she missed few days due to a cold. So today we had gone back to her school. I convinced the admin to let me take her home in two hours for two weeks. The play group was for a duration of four hours. And we had missed the first two weeks of orientation. If she coped, we would continue else withdraw her.
Well, staying away from home is a dismal prospect for anyone, whether a two year old or a six. Hell, I had knots in my stomach when I went to college at 17 something, leaving home for the first time. As my dad left me at the hostel gate with a pat on my cheek, I put up a brave face but my heart was sinking few fathoms.
Why start school so early? I wouldn’t have if there were kids at home or in the neighborhood. Or perhaps a park where she could interact with other kids. In the absence of either, I thought a play school would give her a safe platform to learn her social skills. I would have preferred a toddler – mother group but we don’t have one in our town. It would have been a smooth transition from the protected (and pampered) environment at home to a more social arena.
It doesn’t matter the least whether she is picking up anything of educative value. For one she will have to repeat pre-pre-school next year before getting admitted to pre-school. Our priority was that she got a chance to be with kids her age rather than grownups at home. I will be more than happy if she learnt to share what is hers. Or that crying doesn’t get you much. And that there are nicer ways to communicate than shoving and biting in order to get your way!
Its hard on her and on me. But sometimes you have to swallow bitter pills to get better. The sooner she learns to get along the more fun she will have making friends. It’s a whole new world. I like her school and I know she will be well taken care of there.
But I wait anxiously for the two hours to be up. I look at the hands of the clock a few hundred times every minute. I wonder what she was doing at that moment. Until now I knew everything that was happening in her life and now suddenly I had no idea… I suddenly cannot wait to see her and take her in my arms. To console her and me.
Its time to learn to grow up and let go. Chances are that my daughter will learn that sooner and better than me. I might never learn.

I was watching DD National channel after a long time, thanks to the World Cup T-20 coverage. So after India beat Afghanistan the channel was still on and soon they started airing this duet song by two singers. The girl pretty and decked up, sang “oh mere sona re sona” from the movie Teesri Manzil. She sang well but was hitting many wrong notes. I pooh poohed Doordarshan. “Cant they find better singers? I think I can sing better!” The guy next to her... all smiles... swayed in rhythm. The girl made up for her average singing with her on stage enthusiasm. I would have changed the Channel 'cept the 'remote' was remote! So I lingered on waiting for the boy to sing just to know if he was any better. And as he started mouthing the Rafi lines of 'oh phir na ulajh na hamse...’, I realised he was sailing in the same boat.
Then all of a sudden... I noticed that the girl was standing on crutches. And a closer look revealed that the nice looking lad singing happily was actually blind. I swallowed a lump in my throat... This happens only DD.

My fish bowl is unoccupied. All four fishes are now dead. 'Pele'. the last one to die lay at the bottom of the bowl. Heeding my friends, I intend to buy new fishes. And hope they last longer. This time round I decided to read up a little bit on fish rearing.
Here are two links I found informative.

http://www.ratemyfishtank.com/articles/56

http://www.essortment.com/all/howtotakecare_rorw.htm

Its been some time since I wrote something on my baby. Ah the indefatigable toddler! She sleeps late but more often than not, sleeps on her own. She likes me telling stories… as long as the central character is an elephant! She has an impressive vocabulary now. Hold her in front and she says "kangakoo"! I was pleasantly surprised the first time she used it! She can make herself understood almost completely although you do have to keep in mind the context since her pronunciation is still not 100 % accurate. . She is putting three four words together now into basic sentences. Is bilingual, speaking words in English and her mother tongue. Its funny to see her launch in to a soliloquy with words learnt interspersed with words manufactured! I realize that baby girls tend to emulate their moms. That’s how they learn and play. So my daughter 'cooks' ‘makes’ tea for me... mops and sweeps... feeds her doll... its so sweet to see her do all that. I now go to work for few hours in the morning. And an occasional site visit in the afternoons. But I make it a point to be home at noon to put her to sleep. She used to cry not because I was leaving but she wanted to be taken along! But these days she waves me good bye and it’s a relief. I don’t have to sneak out. I say a proper good bye and leave. And of course we have many mommy - baby times that I cherish. I like to take her out to the garden in the evenings to water the plants. Our bougainvillea sapling bore two magenta flowers. And this small Tabaernamontana dwarf variety we got esp. for her is in blooms. She likes to play in water and it’s hard to keep her away but I let her enjoy it. We sometimes feed the crows that visit us. She takes it very seriously. Calls them... kaa kaa baa (crow come) and then tosses the bread crumbs. She is delighted when the crows oblige her by swerving gracefully to devour the tidbits. We also see other birds occasionally. Blabbers, Cuckoos, Mynahs, Drongos, even Partridges. It’s a time of the day I enjoy as much as my girl. If it weren’t for these moments I would not have known that the laburnum pods when you pry them open have seeds arranged in compartments separated by a sticky black gum coated sheath. I planted few of the seeds just to see a plant grow ... and it did. Fascinating. My daughter has been a catalyst in helping me reconnect with nature in a way. I hope she grows up into a nature lover... watching birds and plants ... tending flowers, watering plants.

Sun shining thru'the pane
Cool breeze on my face
Too close for comfort
A nudge here a touch there
Sweat breaks on my brow
I can't heave I can't move
Everything comes to a stand still...
No no its not what you think
I am just STUCK IN TRAFFIC!!!!!

I am enthralled by hockey. I have always liked watching the game. And with the world cup being at home you couldn’t miss the action. Many other tournaments that India participated in often got little or no media coverage and we didn't know what was happening unless of course they won the tournament.
Indian hockey has always been entertaining. In fact an India Pakistan encounter is full of passion and superb wizardry. It’s easily the best in the business. So what goes wrong? Why can’t we win consistently? Out of 12 teams participating, India is world no. 12. They sure deserve to be way up in the ranking. Unfortunately there are no points for aesthetics. It’s the goals you score and those that you defend that earn you the points. Against Australia we were simply out played. They were the better team, though we put up a good fight. Two quick goals within minutes of opening and you are on the back foot all the time. With the pace of hockey you cannot afford to take your foot off the pedal. I think we could have beaten Spain in the last match. There was a serious lack of anticipation of the opponent’s moves. We were too slow to react at many points. And again trailing after two goals you are playing catch up. It’s always better to draw the first blood and then step up the pressure. India came back strongly in today’s match with England. Trailing once again we did well in the last half an hour to reduce the deficit by 2 goals. Two inspired goals... beautifully executed. But for 2 very good chances that we couldn’t capitalize on we might have won the match. And mind you England beat world no. 2 Australia and are the group leaders! So it was never going to be easy, particularly with our backs against the wall.
We might have lost but our heads are high. We played with passion. We have to improve on many aspects and we lost to better ranked teams. We can’t expect to peak only at the world cup and hope to win it. It’s about building a team and playing consistently. Much like the Indian cricket team. The least we can do is support our team. Stand by them even if they not winning. And hopefully the new dawn of Indian Hockey is just around the corner.
Cheers India. Thank you for the entertainment.

I was watching Pakistan's match with England the other day. Two of the Pakistani players are only 17... And that got me thinking... Sports must be a ticket to good life for young boys from poorer sections of society. In a country torn with internal disturbances and violence, I am glad to see these youngsters turning to sports and doing well. For there are others youngsters who are walking a dangerous road fighting for a different cause.... a cause without an end... brain washed into fighting pseudo ‘holy’ war... killing innocent lives... snuffing out their own which could have but been groomed into great champions. If all the passion and zeal of the terror mongers could be channeled into the right path, can you imagine the force they could become? So many youngsters from poor family are lured by terror mongers in to the quagmire of terrorism from which there is no return, except by death - A senseless death without a cause.
We must support sports in Pakistan. It might mean the difference between life and death for so many of the youngsters. And the victims of terror.

The winner takes it all.......

When India beat Pakistan 4-1 the team looked good enough for the semifinal berth. I wondered what was so great about cricket when hockey was faster and much more exciting, lasting a little over an hour and a half. There is not a single dull moment. You cannot afford to look away for a second lest there is a goal. Then we lost to Australia and the euphoria died. That is where cricket has been different. Its not the game per se. We share our sportspersons’ success and regale and relish drawing vicarious pleasure. One name – Sachin tendulkar, has brought so much joy to millions of fans. When they win... we win. When they lose, we are heart broken. And I realized, winning seems to be everything. Or at least is a great deal. Triumph and disaster might be imposters but they are not the same. I think we have been fed the wrong message over the years which has dulled us Indians into accepting a defeat easily. It took a Ganguly and then Dhoni to inspire their team mates in to believing in themselves and when we had won enough matches it got harder to accept defeat. Defeat feels more bitter after having tasted sweet success. No wonder they say, success is a habit. And today Team India is the number one test team in the world. Yes. Winning is what matters. Legal, clean, played in the right spirit. But winning is the only thing.

Let the defeat burn you,
Let the bitterness creep in your veins
Till you cannot take it anymore.
Cry in anguish, and in pain
And let it provoke you
To give it everything you got.
That last ounce of strength
For then
Success cannot be far.

Fish diary 5

I am sad. Honey breathed her last. she was looking tired and listless for two three days now. I cannot fathom why exactly she died. She was eating well. Perhaps i am not doing everything right with rearing the fishes... What do you do with a dead Gold fish? I didn't have the heart to throw her out where she might end up as cat food. I buried her. Pele and Mustard have survived so far. Do these fishes have a high mortality?

FISH DIARY 4

I am a little worried about Honey. She seems a little off color. Her movements are a little slow.

Yeh hai Radio meri Jaan!

Ever since private FM radio stations exploded into our lives, the radio has become ubiquitous. You switch off the radio at home, get into the car and put on the radio and then when you get off to go to the departmental store, they are playing the same station more often than not! Life is at its musical best. 24x7 music and youth talk fills up households. Each station competing with the other for air time and delivering what is most popular. Read Film music with a smattering of local news and views. Each FM station sounds like any other. Genetically engineered clones. Non stop chatter and non stop music. Only, you get the feeling that music here is on the back seat. It’s more like a filler piece that is disconnectedly sandwiched between small talk. Only a very small percentage of the shows actually end up discussing the music they are playing. It’s like arranging a song in between a prerecorded monologue.
Memories of my childhood summon pictures of the radio playing at home long before the television gate crashed into our lives and after it. With a radio, you don’t have to sit at a place and spend your time. You can get entertained while going about your chores and work. Radio was switched on at 5:55 in the morning with the still resonating violin theme followed by the news and then the music rolled on. Vividh Bharati has retained its charm in spite of all the competition. And what I like best is the variety. Predominantly film music, these are played under different shows. You have those on old film songs, new songs, request shows, music from one film, or a particular theme, ghazls, pop music, classical music, folk music, intercviews and even plays! More importantly, As a result, I can hum more than just the opening lines of song I know, and I can recollect more information on the songs thanks to AIR RJs and their presentation that includes mentioning the name of the movie, singers, music director and lyricist. You did not just enjoy music but learnt to appreciate and admire the great artists behind the making. Listening to private FM channels, I don’t know which movie they are from or who has sung them, let alone who the music director or the lyricist is.
These days you can email you requests or SMS them. But for the rest, Vividh Bharathi has not changed and I fervently hope they don’t ever.

The other day I was driving and had a minor accident. As a result the left rear view mirror is denuded and without a cap. It must have been my fault right? After all I am a woman driver.
I was waiting at a signal at the right extreme on the road with no more space to my right. As the signal turned green and we started throttling up to move on, this huge white van rammed into my left mirror which is hinged and it snapped shut with ferocity. I stared at the van as it drove past feigning ignorance. Really, what could I do? Chase after him brake in front of his vehicle and get out flexing muscles? Besides at that point I only thought the mirror had snapped close. Only later did I see the extent of damage inflicted. By that time, the van was a distant memory. So many instances have I experienced when vehicles have brushed past scrapping denting ramming nudging and yet they never stopped. And mind you it was never a woman driver whom I confronted. And I wonder if I ever did anything like that I am sure I wouldn’t be allowed to get away with it. A major crash and everyone rushes in to help or join the heated exchange of blames. In fact the locals take over the dispute. The escape is blocked. The victim is given reassurance. But these minor brushes are almost always over looked. No one bothers. The victim pays.
So I drive with a bruised car and I swear it’s not been my fault most times. If you are in Kozhikkode and see a scratched pink Estilo, its probably yours truly.

Fish Diary 3

Ash died. :(
We found him at the bottom of the bowl, lifeless. He probably died hungry. I had never seen him eat. But with every passing day when he still swam about, I hoped he was eating something when we didn't look. Perhaps he didn't.
The three fishes are now in one bowl.

Schoolbag in hand, she leaves home in the early morning
Waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile
I watch her go with a surge of that well-known sadness
And I have to sit down for a while
The feeling that I'm losing her forever
And without really entering her world
I'm glad whenever I can share her laughter
That funny little girl

Slipping through my fingers all the time
I try to capture every minute
The feeling in it
Slipping through my fingers all the time
Do I really see what's in her mind
Each time I think I'm close to knowing
She keeps on growing
Slipping through my fingers all the time

Sleep in our eyes, her and me at the breakfast table
Barely awake, I let precious time go by
Then when she's gone there's that odd melancholy feeling
And a sense of guilt I can't deny
What happened to the wonderful adventures
The places I had planned for us to go
(Slipping through my fingers all the time)
Well, some of that we did but most we didn't
And why I just don't know

Slipping through my fingers all the time
I try to capture every minute
The feeling in it
Slipping through my fingers all the time
Do I really see what's in her mind
Each time I think I'm close to knowing
She keeps on growing
Slipping through my fingers all the time

Sometimes I wish that I could freeze the picture
And save it from the funny tricks of time
Slipping through my fingers

Slipping through my fingers all the time

Schoolbag in hand she leaves home in the early morning
Waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile

ABBA

FISH DIARY 2

Ash is now black. I can barely tell him from Pele just that he is still a little smaller. These black sharks have silver stripes on their body and are quite magnificent. But dud wits they remain. The goldfish go for the food almost as soon as I put the food in. The sharks take a long time. Will I be able to put the two couples together in the same fish bowl? I so long to. But then again, the sharks are the more intelligent. They get in a frenzy trying to escape capture swimming round and round at a maddening pace as I found out trying to relocate them. I had a tough time changing the water in the bowl. But on the other hand its so easy to catch the goldfish. I wonder why they don’t struggle.
Have they been conditioned to docility after years of fishbowl culture? Perhaps they no longer remember the times when they were free and not imprisoned in a fish bowl. They have genetically evolved into these fish bowl creatures. Beautiful. Destined for Captivity.
Looking at these fishes in their bowl always remind me of these lines by Pink floyd from their cult classic ‘wish you were here’.
We are like two lost souls
Swimming in a fish Bowl
Year after year
Its poignant. I feel the helplessness. It would have been better to see them struggle and fight, show some spirit. But this acceptance of whatever comes.. this fatalism...

So many people I see around
Stuck in their lives like these fishes.
Dulled into acceptance.
With no fight left or a memory of it
Pecking what comes their way
Knowing not passions and failures
Success and disappointment.
Love and hatred
Pain and relief
A life devoid of desires
Just breathing
Waiting for the morningless sleep
Or are these enlightened beings?
Above the dualism of life
Peaceful without desires
Perhaps they swim
In contemplation
Of spiritual things
Laughing at me
As I peer down on them
With my eyes dripping pity
Running from one unfulfilled desire to the next
Stuck in the wheel of life?
An ignorant low being?

Time is a two faced monster
Bolts when you want it to trudge
And The Creep crawls when
You have nothing to do but
Wait for a blip
On the faraway horizon
Looking ahead into the hazy future
A day feels like an age
Look behind and half a century
Seemed to have passed in a blink

Some days
living life like I am
Aimless at times...
lethargic at other
Running sometimes like the hare
Wincing at the clock in his paws
On pensive evenings
I get the feeling
That time is running out
I can almost hear
the grains of sand falling
There is some unfinished work
Something more I had to share
Before the knell resounds

Death of a poet
An obituary to Girish Puthenjeri

I have grown up listening to music since my parents were music lovers. I heard malayalam music on tapes they bought or on AIR. When I started living in Kerala since my marriage five years back, I for the first time got in close contact with the language, the culture, the music particulary the fabulous flim music. My love affair with malayalam music has grown steadily over the years. And that is how I came to hear of his name - GIRISH PUTHENJERI. Every other song on radio seemed to be written by him which indicated the popularity of the songs he wrote . His was the only name among songwriters that I was familiar with other than the geat Vayallar.The name had such a nice resonance befitting a poet.
Though unfamiilar with the language I grew to appreciate whatever little I understood of his lyrics.
Amma mazhakaaril kannu nirenju Aa kaneeril nyan nanenju
The clouds of motherhood swelled with tears drenching me in the deluge
I was shocked to hear of his demise particularly since I had no inkling of his recent illness. As I watched the news coverage of his death I got to know the genius that he was. The whole Film Industry seemed to be grieving. I felt a sadness, inexplicable, since I did not know too much about him or his work. It saddened me to learn he died too soon at 48. He probably had so many more years of great work ahead of him. Or may be he did all that he could have achieved in his life time in a prolific career spanning 25 odd years. As Queen sang, "Only the good die young"...Freddie Mercury, Curt Cobain, JIm morrison. Outstandign muscicians or poets. They left too soon. Making us yearn for more. They chose to burn out rather than fade away.
The sky darkened as if in gloom. uncharachteristically at this time of the year. Perhaps nature mourned the demise of its favorite spokesperson.
A little after his cremation which the media covered like hawks, they moved on to other fresher subjects with an ease I found hard to duplicate. The chirpy songs on the radio seemed incongruant. Like we hadn't mourned enough. Like the world should stop for some time and grieve an irreplaceable loss a little while longer.
Ghalib knew what he was saying when he wrote
Ghalinb e khastha ke bagair kaun se kaam bandh hai
Roiye zaar zaar kya keejiya hai hai kyon
So thats it. Death, the most significant moment in our lives is just another event in the lives of others. Few tears are shed. Few lives of near ones will be altered irrevocably. A few sighs and then everything is back to where it was.
But a poet never dies. For he lives on in his verses delighting us, moving worlds, shatterring dogma, stirring up emotions... shining like a beacon showing us the way ahead.

As your heart bled
And you stripped your soul naked
The dripping red droplets
Became verses on the page
Clothed in music
They adorned a lover's lip
An aeon away
Burnt to ashes now
Find the peace
Your heart yearned for.
Sleep now
On Earth's bosom
Heavy with tears shed for you

Being married to a sailor, one question i am always asked is... How do you survive living separately? I think its the emotional dependence that they are talking about. These are from couples or friends who have probably never lived apart even for a single day. Before i met my future spouse i couldn't imagine it myself. I knew of friends who got married and continued to live in separate cities (sometimes countries!)because they worked there. (Eventually one of them got a transfer and they got together). I had wondered how or why they would want to do it. I guess I had no clue I was walking down the same road.
So how do I survive? Like I tell my friends.. Do I have a choice? So you live. You find reasons to keep your mind occupied. The first week is the hardest. The fact is you miss a person even when you are in the same house! When you are busy with your respective chores, you wonder what the other is up to...
I have learnt to switch my emotional buttons off.
But see the upside. When my spouse is back he is home. These days couples both working long hours, sometimes different shifts hardly get to see each other except during weekends which is spent buying groceries! You don't really get to see your children grow up unless you take a vacation. And also when we are away, we get our space. We bloom as individuals and yet the ties keep us together. I am not sure if that is so bad!
Besides, Distance stokes passion like winds that stoke a fire!

Bottle your scent

I would if I could,
Bottle your scent.
Preserved for posterity.
In small crystal vials
Labeled, stored on the kitchen shelf
High above behind pickle jars
Safe from prying, careless hands

So, when you are grown up
When you no longer need me
Trudging ahead to your independence
Calling me across spaces
From a faraway distance

I, old and wrinkled.
With fading memories
Of the delight you brought to me
I, alone in the empty silent house,
Pull out your old rag dolls
The busted car with three wheels
The shoes that I hid with squeaky heels

Racks of albums and yellowed
Pictures in which you grew up
My favorite here… wrapped in pink
Eyes closed, contented
Head resting on tiny hands
Scratched Cds I will play
To watch you cruise again
Or watch you mop the floor
With baby hands
Peering through the horn framed glasses
I will watch you
Mouthing the first syllables
Feeding the doll with the lotion bottle

I will bring down the vials
And sniff-in your innocence
The smell of your unwashed hair
Your pastry breath after a feed
Clean soft pink feet after a bath
Clothes dirty with food and mud.

And for a moment when I close my eyes
I can still touch and feel you
Like you were born yesterday

Misgivings of an apologetic native

Who am I? I ask.
Where am I from? I wonder
Bred outside in other cultures
Born away from my native land
Visiting on summer vacations
Speaking gibberish
I am an apologetic native
I am lost. I don’t belong.

Assimilating all that I saw and heard
In different hues, coloured.
No longer have I an identity
My own is lost in
A cauldron of odour
Restless like the wind. A free?
Or a loose?... spirit.
Bound for a nomadic existence
Searching for a rest place.
Where I can put up my feet
Where I belong

But are we not all nomads?
Mere mortals, from birth to death?
Stamped with a culture
By the accident of birth
Showing off our identity
See? I belong.
Defending, possessing.
Accusing, Judging
Departing from the stage
When the role is over

Ask not where I am from
For I cannot answer truthfully
Ask not where I am going…
I am like the river forging its destiny
Through rugged unknown land
Like the wind am I
Blowing across frontiers
Breathing in the smell
Of a thousand and more
enchanting cultures
I, a weary confused traveler,
Am just passing thru’
In this transient illusion

A verse to my parents


Dear mother
I love thee
I never showed it
For I never learnt to
I borrowed the words of my soul
From cards I chose with care
And hoped it would make up
For the truth I was too cowardly to share
Oh mother
Now that I am one too
I understand the pain you went thru’
And not just when I was flung out
From the warmth of your womb
Into this scary world
But oh on so many nights of pain and ague
When you held my fractured soul
When you put me first above all your needs
And indulged and spoilt me over
Mother
I still crave for the security
Of the beautiful home you keep
The doors always open
The food always warm
And on dark nights of rain and thunder
When I cringe under the sounds of the heaven
I feel reassured
For you slept in the next room
Mother Thank You
For inspiring
For nurturing

Dear daddy
You are my friend
In good times and better,
We had fun without end
You worked hard to bring home the bread
You drank the hardship of life
Till your throat turned blue
Father
I understand you
Your impatience, your temper
For I am so like you
I understand your sulks and your moods
For I inherited them too
You love sitting at home in the rain
And that’s the way I like it
We may not so often talk
But I am proud to be the chip of the old block
Dear father
You expected a great deal from my self
But I chose to follow my whims and dreams
But I hope someday you can
Let rest your frustrations
I didn’t get where you wished to see me
But I am where I like to be
Father
Thank you for the guiding hand
The encouragement and yet restrained
The safety net when I fell
The push when I needed to go ahead
Father
Thank you
For pushing
For consoling

FOREVER YOUNG

Travelling by train always fills my heart with joy. Its probably nostalgia, reminiscent of summer vacations and the long trip to my hometown. More than a bus or any other form of travel, a train journey is in itself a destination, cherished.
I travelled recently from Calicut to Tellicherry by train. A mere hour and 5 minutes journey time... But that was enough to send my heart jingling. There were these college kids flitting in and out of the coupe' looking like they rule the world. Nonchalant. Confident. Knowing they are watched. With faces glowing in radiance with dreams of their future. Not unlike horses raring to go.. to take on the world. I remember when I was one too. Albiet a little shy... wary of unwanted attention often imposed on a woman travelling alone. And yet adventurous. That was a decade back! I loved being 25. Young enough so life was still a clean slate. Old enough to know good from bad. The slender period of independence juxtaposed between the dependence and the dependents... I wish time could have stopped at that age. I think a tiny part of me got frozen at that wonderful age.
As one of the rambunctious college frequent stood near the door right next to my window and broke into love songs, I couldnt help but think... had I been younger I would have got peeved at that... embarassed.. thinking every whistle was aimed to pique me. Every song was sung to grab my attention and I would scrupulously avoid all 'amorous' eye contacts. I would hide my head in the hole in the ground like the ostrich! Now, at few days short of being 33, with a toddler asleep in my arms.. I was grateful and took it as a compliment. Which is more, I hummed along...:)

Fish diary

We bought home a fish bowl along with four fishes. This, inspired by a visit to our cousins’ home where we learnt it isn’t too hard to keep fishes. My 19 months old toddler says ‘mee’ for fish. ‘Meen’ is the word for fish in our mother tongue. Fish is a staple item on our dinner table. And fish was one of the early objects that she learnt to recognize in her picture books - From the grey scaled fish in the food section to the orange gold fish in the colors section. She was fascinated with the fishes swimming in the fish bowl at our cousins’ and that’s where the idea to get one at our place, sprouted.
When the student is ready the teacher arrives. Out shopping to our local shopping street, I noticed, for the first time, this place for pets. On a whim we thought of checking the place for fish and the entire paraphernalia for fish keeping was available much to our delight. We bought two goldfish and two sharks. Uh?? Yes, that’s this shark look alike without the killer jaws. The mouth is more like a hippo’s- wide with moustaches. I jokingly asked the vendor if they would grow up! Were they aggressive? Was it a good idea to put them with the gold fish? I was in for a surprise.
Along with the fish and the bowl, we got an aeration tube and fish food. Apparently, one of these mustard sized granules was enough for a fish per day. With the whole thing set up, I put 4 granules in them - one for each occupant. A little while later on a routine inspection I noticed that the granules had disappeared. Was I thrilled!
Its easier to keep track of them if they had names. Recently we painted our house and the shade we chose was called honey mustard. So that’s what we named the gold fishes. The smaller one was called Honey and the bigger of the two was Mustard. One of the sharks was a pale grey and so was named Ash (Asha, Aishwarya, Ashutosh.. or anything else as the long version of the appellation would be fine according to the reader’s preference!) The fourth fish was a charcoal black and I thought of black pearl as a suitable name. Now that was too long so we called him Pele! There was a free advice from my soccermonger hubby to name them Pele Maradona Messi and Ronaldo! And may be put in a miniature soccer ball inside for their entertainment. May be there would soon be soccer leagues arranged between different fish bowl counties! The Super Fish bowl premier league!!!Hmmm... mercifully all that remained wishful imagination and we stuck to the original names.
The next day after feeding them I noticed that Ash was scouting the floor of the bowl and rarely came up. Honey and Mustard were more sprightly. I was beginning to fear Ash was sick but a tap on the bowl right under it made it jump into a frenzied swimabout. The sharks once instigated moved at a lightening speed and at other times chose to languor at the bottom. At the next feeding time I decided to keep a watch on Ash. As I feared, all the four granules were devoured by Mustard! I had heard that too much food could kill the fish. I was now convinced Mustard would perish with his tummy bursting due to overeating! And Ash seemed to be on a hunger strike.
The next day I witnessed a repeat in the pattern and decided time had come to take matters into my hands. I took this fairly big serving glass bowl and using a tea strainer shifted Mustard into the new but smaller bowl. Now I could concentrate on the starved fishes with the glutton out of the way. I added few granules and found that Honey quickly sniffed it out and gulped it down in no time. All of it. By now I was convinced that the ‘sharks’ were about the dumbest fishes living in a bowl. And it was the need of the hour to separate the golden beauties from the dull greys.
Should I be interfering with nature? Why not let the fittest survive? Which meant that the goldfish would thrive and the sharks would most definitely perish. Two days had now passed and they hadn’t eaten anything. Too much of National geographis puts all sorts of animal preservation ideas into your head! So Action – SAVE THE GREYS – was put into action.
I thought it might be a better choice to put the goldfish in the fish bowl and the sharks in the improvised serving bowl. But attempting to catch the sharks thru’ the tea strainer proved impossible. Using all their reserve energy they suddenly charged all around the bowl to escape capture and I knew even if I caught them in the strainer they would simply jump off before being transferred in to the other bowl. So I did what I could. I caught the more docile Honey who joined Mustard in the serving bowl where they remain as of now. They have separate feeding sessions. Two granules for the Goldies which get polished off almost immediately. And about four for the sharks who take their own lethargic time .
I have seen Pele eat the granules but haven’t yet seen Ash feed. He is still alive so perhaps he is eating. May be the two fish are not meant to be put together. Probably the sharks have a much inferior olfactory sensation compared to the goldfish. And would invariably lose the feeding battles with them.
As of now the two bowls remain side by side with the aeration tube shared by the two in equal measures of time. All four fishes are alive and kicking.

The terrible twos are here. And the signs of what lies ahead has manifested. My toddler wants to do everything or most things on her own. She prefers the shiny sandals to boring brown shoes. Hates taking off a nice dress once worn. Wants to walk on her own, a relief to my tiring shoulders. Likes to eat by her self and in the process creates a colossal mess at the table! Yes she is having fun! Its fun teaching her words coz she is picking them up at a good rate. Though she only manages to mutter the first syllable of most words, she can make herself understood. My favorite right now is tilting her head to one side after she has devoured the butter I gave her and saying “ mo(re)!” My heart melts like the butter in her mouth! Yes she can say ‘Banana’ and the next target would be .. chechoslovakia? I have no idea if I spelt it right!
Her bedtime routine has gone for a toss. I still have rudiments of it in place but she now sleeps when she wants to. Never mind if she can’t stop yawning but prefers to stretch her playtime as late as possible. The easiest and fastest way to get her out of the bedroom would be to suggest “sleep” to her! Initially I was reluctant to change the routine and only managed to get her angry and wild and ever more difficult to put down to bed. It took my husband’s insight to make me let go off her routine. She sleeps late but it is definitely more peaceful. She still doesn’t sleep through. And now I don’t expect it. I prefer to wait for it to happen. There is nothing more I can do about it!
Very soon it will be time for preschool. Meanwhile I am stepping back on the career wagon. Change is on the anvil.

ANger that heals

An uncontrolled angry outburst
Can sometimes lend voice to the unsaid
When the deepest darkest truth
Swept under the rug of assumed tolerance
And deliberate mature understanding
Is liberated out of the crater
Stunning, heart breaking, destroying
And yet mercifully and delightfully honest
A break from the revolting hypocrisy
Perhaps burning all that is old and dry
And yet cleaning the slate
For something new and fresh to take life
To start anew
Without past pretenses

For someone who is afraid of close relationships lest my space is violated... networking is godsend
No I am not one of those lonely souls who is living in a shell. I like my small group of close friends whom I meet and talk to when I can. But I am crowd shy.
I like the space that networking sites offer me. Where I meet known and unknown friends across the virtual sea. It isn't unlike any other form of relationship. Except you can choose to get in touch with them personally or just air your thoughts while your contacts are free to water them or ignore. It’s like going to a work place where you meet familiar friends every day ... but never physically. You only share good moments. You can sign out any time you like. You can ignore. You can look into the window that they open for you and not beyond to see what goes in their lives. You do the same. There are no unwanted visitors that you have to attend to. You can shut out when you are in a mood to hibernate. You can revel when the spirits are high. Knock on doors... leave a message. See their kids grow up... or where they have traveled.
It’s strangely public and yet private.

Permanent in past

Future uncertain like writings on sand
Short lived, changing…
With every wave of whims and dreams
Wishes run amok like wild horses
Painting the blank canvas
With splendid colors
Wants displacing needs…
Sweet desires building castles of glass
Fragile, precariously hanging on the precipice
Shimmering in rainbow colors
Like a floating naked bubble
Destined to perish to nothingness
Future like a slow conveyer belt
Looming ahead, approaching…
Excitable fearsome hopeful

Time passes through the doorway
Of the present moment

And then

Events
Engraved on marble now
Permanent.
Joyful or sorrow but
Unchangeable.
Relegated to the archives of history
Stored in perfume bottles of nostalgia
Recorded as mere statistics
Etched in distant memory

Hopes die
Battles are lost
Dreams are shattered
Hearts sink
Tears inundate

You cannot do a thing
And all that you try to do
Changes nothing
You can hit
Prick. Kill.
But time marches on
Relentlessly
Dangling the carrot of future
Seemingly malleable
Destiny follows like the faithful shadow
Ticking the correctness of events
As was intended always
As was written
As it slowly sets
Into the unalterable past

Small talk

Let’s talk
Even if there is nothing to
Let’s ask how the weather is
What did you dine on today?
Or just simply ‘how was your day’
Small talk to keep the conversation going
To fill the awkward first meetings
Small talk to hang on to breaking strands of relationships
So family dinners are not shattered in silence

Small talk it is if nothing else
Pardon my persistence
For I ask the obvious.
I repeat the questions time and again
For its not your answer I seek
But the voice you speak with
Because when words dry up doors are shut

I patronize I control
Don’t fret too much about it
Anger is not a pleasant bedmate
So talk and let go

I sleep today with a blank mind
No regrets or nagging thoughts
Tomorrow is a brand new day.
For another cycle of
Small talk

My 16th month old baby taught me a very important lesson. This is how events unfolded.

I normally give her a bottle of milk at bed time before she is lulled to sleep. Its part of the elaborate sleep routine I have devised for her. That day inadvertently I placed her bottle on the side table where she was able to reach it. And now that she knows how to open a bottle lid by twisting it, within seconds she had opened the lid and the milk spilled 3 quarters before I noticed to my shock and disappointment. Normally it wouldn’t matter but on that day there was no more milk to give her and that was the last of it. I got upset. I looked at her with an unhappy face trying to drive the point home. She looked at me with a touch of regret and then, the talented actor that she is, put on the clown act trying to divert my attention pointing at something with a big smile. I didn’t relent. She moved away with her gait spelling "Okki dokki... mommy means business". I got angrier because she seemed to have no qualms about what she did!! Remember, anger clouds your brain? So I forgot for a moment that she was only 16 months old. I had managed to salvage a quarter of the bottle and had no choice but to make do with that. Plus I was still breast feeding. The best thing, I figured, was to move on (and not cry over split milk). I gave her, her quick bath followed by drying and applying lotion. But I wasn’t smiling. I persisted with a long face so she picked up that she did something wrong. What was I expecting? A confession from a toddler who cannot talk??? Am I the adult here?... 'Oh why did she have to take the bottle in the first place?” grrrr... Next up on the routine was getting her dressed so I took the diaper out and the night dress to change into for the night. But the little elf grabbed them and ran further from me. I got more peeved. “Oh c'mon now. Don't make me run after you, girl!”
It suddenly dawned on me that she was playing a game, inviting me to join. A game of catch - me - if - you - can. Mercifully, at that enlightening moment, better sense prevailed and I decided to join her. My demeanor changed. I smiled and ran after her to catch her. End result - she in my arms laughing and happy. My anger had melted away. Yes she taught me a lesson. When the other person is angry use humor. Now we all know that you can’t fight fire with fire. Right? But we forget. So I now know how to handle a bad situation or how to resolve a heated argument with my spouse!!! And that's not all. I proceeded to give my now dressed baby few board books that she likes to browse through before sleep time. But for a change, she indicated she wanted the bottle to feed. And she gulped down the entire contents. That’s when I realized it. She went for the bottle because she was hungry and wanted to drink the milk. Poor little angel! She wasn’t being defiant or naughty. When the veil of anger had lifted, I saw clearly that it wasn't her fault at all. I saw light only after I came out of the shadow of anger. And that’s lesson number two.

Ayudh puja in changing times

Ayudh puja. A day I looked forward to as a school going kid for once my mother had put my books (usually the dreaded mathematics textbook) for puja we didn't have to touch books for a day and a half. What bliss! For a change nobody told you to go and study. Of course that didn't stop us from sneaking and reading our favorite storybooks! No work... all play... all day long! The blessed days when there was no television or computers so we kids in the neighbourhood would climb trees, pluck fruits, eat figs and never feel hungry enough to go home but tanned playing in the autumn sun. What do kids do these days for a day and half? Watch TV I suppose. Or sit on the computer and game.There are no playgrounds, no parks to go to.
So thats what I did. I watched elephants and meer cats on Animal Planet with my 14 month old daughter. She loves them particularly the elephant calves. So much that she doesnt understand why we periodically change the channel and interrupt her( read commercial breaks). But I also make it a point to take her out in the yard to run around either in barefeet or with these squeaky shoes of hers. I only wish she had play mates her age in the vicinity but alas there are none. So we play with her toys instead. There is Noddy who is always goign to sleep and the Teddy who made an appearance on her favorite channel the other day. Except he was called koala bear! And of course there is her Doggie that sings different tunes.
Ayudh puja. The day cars and bikes get washed and dabbed with the traditional haldi and kumkum. And all machines implements and tools. As a new student of painting I felt the urge to place my paints and brushes for prayers. I do hope the divine blessings help me scale the magnificient and alluring mountain of painting. I think of spending some time on the computer and wonder. Are not computers our modern day tools? Shouldn't they be sacntified as well? Placed along with our books with a dab of haldi and kumkum! Oh I think I will just take my notebook and place it for Puja. Notebook here by the way is my laptop. :)
Changing times.

The frustration of revision

When do you stop a composition? The moment when you cannot add or delete any element. When it is complete. when the 'whole' composed of different parts put together in harmony, contrast or other design props is visually balanced to the discerning eye. A good painting is like that. Every stroke has a purpose. Every shade of color adds to the overall effect however subtly it might be. There are no accidents or mistakes. Have you ever written poetry and there came a moment when the lines feel complete. Sometimes you manage to convey everything in four lines. At times even hundreds don’t suffice.
I wrote the following lines intending to complete them later. These words just “tumbled out” as I like to say.

Let the follies be mine
Let the glory be yours
How can I claim all is You
For there are so many imperfections.

But I am not able to add anything. The lines say all that I want to say.

Often in my line of work as a designer we sit racking our brain to arrive at a solution which we feel is fairly well composed. We have balanced function with aesthetics, we have finalized the materials and specifications according to our design sensibility and the budget. We sit back on the chair happy at the outcome. It feels complete. We can't wait to show it to the client/superior for approval. But more often than not, the client asks for changes. Not the whole concept but only small things here and there....which very completely messes up the whole composition. These small things change the whole dynamism of the design. It is no longer complete. Remember what I said? You cannot add or delete. Any change leaves the design in disarray. So begins the process of re-balancing. Sometimes you succeed. Most times you have to let go of the most beautiful part of the erstwhile composition in order to accommodate a tiny insignificant alteration which is frustrating.
I once did a residential landscape for a client whose brief was a design within a small budget. So in lieu of that I chose brick as the dominant element and designed the paving lines according to the basic unit of a brick. At a later stage after the bricks had been laid in place, the client changed his mind and asked for granite cladding of the same. No harm done, but the original design using the brick module was made redundant. If I had had the freedom of using granite in the beginning the design would have been different in the first place. It would have evolved keeping in mind granite as a paving material.
What we seek in design is honesty of expression. Honesty of material. Let the basic material shine through and hold the weight of the design on its shoulders. But in the example cited, with that change the essence of the whole design collapsed not unlike a house of cards.
Changing a material is not as simple as that. Every material has an inherent property that affects the design. In the same project, at another location I had proposed granite cobbles and slab in an interesting composition for the entrance area. The client asked for a cheaper option and we explored different materials. Every time we changed the material or the brand, the dimension of the basic unit changed, and the design changed consequently. When the client sees the final drawing it might appear as mere lines. But only a designer and a sincere one at that can understand the labor that goes behind the simplest of design. After umpteen changes, with the client vacillating about the choice of material, haggling for reduced rates from dealers, we finally chose a cheap paving option. The resulting design was a poor shadow of what we had started with. I only hope that it lasts its guarantee period. If it doesn’t. Who is to be blamed? The design it seems is not the architect's creation but that of the patron's tastes.
In another example, when I was working in an architectural firm, my colleague was working on a multi storeyed apartment building and the plan and elevation was simply beautiful. It was the kind of design where the proportions fall in its rightful place and it deserved to come up in the skyline. But that wasn't to be. After the plan and elevation was approved, the client realized that a hotel would be more profitable and asked for the plan to be revised accordingly. That screwed up the entire design starting from the plan to the elevation. I don't know what happened to that project as I left the firm shortly after but something potentially beautiful was destroyed that day by the relentless dagger of commercial interests.
It’s deeply mournful to say the least.

Tough times are like bad medicine

It’s a huge struggle to give my little girl her medicine. She has come down with a bad cold that has become congestion and her doctor prescribed antibiotics. The sweetening technique by the pharmaceutical company did not work. My baby still cannot stand it. She breaks into uncontrollable cries and loud protests leaving me with no option but to force it down her throat. And that causes her to hate it more. While a little spills out, I hope at least something gets down her throat. I have come to hate it as much as she. I wish I didn’t have to give it to her but I know I have to, so she gets better. She doesn’t understand it of course and cannot understand why her mother is putting her through so much anguish. But within seconds after the unpleasantness during which she shrieks and cries at the top of her voice and is soaked in sweat, she is her normal self, smiling. I wonder, if only she struggled less, the medicine would be easily dispensed with reducing our misery. The more she struggles the more she prolongs the anguish.
But who am I to give advice. Am I any better? That got me thinking…All the bad times that we go through is like bad medicine that the Maker is giving us so we get better. So we overcome our vices which if left untreated would cause further agony and no spiritual development. And so no matter how much we struggle or protest or cry, we still have to drink the potion. The more we struggle the worse the situation gets. The maker like a mother is in pain too to see His children suffer but continues to deliver the tough times because they are for our good.

Be like a child

She stood on the bed leaning
At the head board, pleading
To be lifted And I, busy,
Near by, just out of reach
Thinking,
"One day she will fall"...
I tell her,"I'll be there soon, love,
In a minute." She excited,
Playing, jumping, pleading,
Tipping precariously ...
In a second landed with a thump on the floor;
I shout "NOOOO..." As if
The sound would some how
Cushion her fall
I watch helpless and horrified
I wonder later if I could have
Caught her. Did I have the time?
Had I, stunned into inaction,
Given up and let her to her fate?

Head down. on all fours...
A moment of silence
As long as eternity
And then the loud wail.
More in shock than in pain
I grabbed my little one.
Shaken up, I embrace her close to my heart
Soothing myself as much as her.
Hugging her warm little body.
I have nothing to say except
"I am sorry baby"
Over and over again.
I rub her nasty bruise gently
As it turned blue black.
I stroke her back slowly
As her whimpers died
The tears stopped running
Leaving a streak behind
She calms down and is quiet
Her head resting on my shoulders

I take her on my lap still shaking.
My heart pounding
I am close to tears
As I offer her my breast
She gratefully accepts and suckles.
The bruise is now a goose egg..
She hurt her head
Is she fine? I worry
I gently rub her belly
And with the nipple still in her mouth
She smiles and then laughs!
The fall now forgotton, I sigh.
Everything is fine.

Only I wish I forgot my pain
As quickly as my little girl

T r a n s i t i o n

Transition hurts...
When we are moving from one state to the other or one level to the other, we are letting go of the familiar and facing the unknown. Every level has two sides... good and evil. That’s a universal fact. So while we are frustrated with our present existence, when the point of transition arrives, we see all the negative things looming ahead, suddenly recollecting all the good things we must lose now! And that fills us with fear, fear of the unknown. Now suddenly we no longer recollect the miseries of our current situation, instead dread the change that is to come which glittered from a distance but is not so attractive up close!.
Death is a transition between two planes of existence.
It’s the passage that we walk knowing not what lies ahead. Its painful ‘cause we are letting go of all the things we have known and loved. And not knowing what we must face next. A little like, ‘a known enemy is better than an unknown friend’.
We are constantly seeking new pastures in life and where we stand is like a hot tin roof. Restless we wander in search of happiness… discontent, despite the fact that where we are is what we wanted except not the whole of it. But every moon has a dark side. And we cannot have one without the other.
Come to think of it, even during child birth it is the transition or the process of delivery that is the most painful! Its when the loved one is departing that we are heart broken. That’s why daughters (and their parents) weep when they get married.
Sometimes we imagine a bleak future and get anxious. But once there the picture might be completely different from what we imagined. Unfortunately the reverse is also true. The problem with dreaming or imagining things is that we extrapolate the present and so our state of mind in the present is projected into a complementary event in the future. But what we forget is that innumerable parameters are lurking in the shadow which can influence the future drastically.
I think we feel in control when we imagine our future as we want it to be. But the fact is we are not in control. Its living in a fool’s paradise. We can only control our present. This moment. Now. We can choose whether we want to be happy or sad or angry. Whether we want to waste this moment in lamentation or idle around or whether we want to “ fill the unforgiving minute with 60 seconds worth of distance run” (- Rudyard Kipling in IF). Whether we want to tread the transition like a river of embers or look at it like a gift wrapping paper to behold the future that is unraveled in time. “No anticipation. No hesitation.” (- Sri Sri Ravi Shanker)

Summon the razor edge of transition
And we shall look at it in the eye
We shall not stumble but walk
The tight rope with our head high

I love my country. I say that from the bottom of my heart. If I were to be given a chance to choose the country I wish to be born in, I would choose India. Everytime. I love this place. The diversity, the tradition and culture.. every square inch is teeming in the most amazing colors .. there is a new culture, cuisine, climate, language, geography with every mile that you traverse.. Where else can you get so much variety. There is so much to India that I don’t think any one person can see it all or even know it all in his entire lifetime. We can but taste a small piece of it. And savour it for all its worth.
SO many people intelligent, sensitive, caring, helpful, talented, creative…. I salute them.
Imagine what we can do if we all move in the positive direction as a collective whole, rooted in our tradition looking on and embracing modernity. We can change the world. We have. One man born in India has left a bit of humanity in every beating heart. The man of the millennium, our own Mahatma. And so many more.
If you look for dirt you will find it. The question is, are you missing the flowers in the garden, stuck on the weeds? Moaning and complaining instead of going on your knees to pluck them off? You can make a difference. Have you done all that you can?
On this Independence Day, let us be independent from our prejudices and doubts. Let us open our hearts and minds. Let us work hard and sleep well. Let each one of us fulfill our potential. Let us find humanity in every face we see.

Imagine there's no Heaven
It's easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us only sky
Imagine all the people
Living for today
Imagine there's no countries
It isn't hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace
You may say that I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will be as one
Imagine no possessions
I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger
A brotherhood of man
Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world
You may say that I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will live as one

John Lennon

Art v/s computer

The other day, there was a demonstration at the art school that I frequent. A renowned painter spoke on his life and works as did the faculty of the school. One of the key issues that came up was the relevance and scope of painting today. And that started me thinking… is painting a dying art, much like many other art forms where technology and the computer have taken over creativity?
Today at music studios there is no 40 piece orchestra or live recording. All you need is a computer and the necessary program to create any sound from any instrument. Luckily the singer is still human! Until now! As the exponents of our great tradition of classical music are aging and passing away, there are few takers from the new generation who have the desire to pass the baton forward. Imagine a world with no live performances by maestros with music only surviving in compact discs listened to in private. When I was a student of architecture, we toiled late hours completing our submissions on drawing boards bending and breaking our backs. Literally. Towards the end of my course we were introduced to CAD… computer aided drafting. Every successive architectural office I applied for and joined progressively replaced the drawing board with computers until the time when a drawing board and tee scale became obsolete in an architectural studio. I don’t know if students today can draft manually. I don’t know if I can! It’s been ages! I only remember that it was something I enjoyed a great deal using drafting pens on ivory sheets where imagination came alive on paper. Did you hear about this person who was playing solitaire on the table with cards? His friend popped in and asked, “Oh! I didn’t know you could play it without the computer!” Letter writing has long been buried, murdered by Internet! Even emailing is a thing of the past, making way for networking. The wireless world is bludgeoning in. Art is slowly perishing incognito.
Painting on computer is not new. In fact it is a recognized form of art. You don’t need colors or brushes or medium or paper. You can get any hue or shade of color without having to mix the colors. You can erase any blunder and rework. Is that the future of painting? Will our kids know and come to enjoy the joy of painting? Holding the brush instead of the mouse mixing the paints on the palette that emanates the faint odor of chemicals, the joy of mixing many colors to get that elusive brown or green and then applying it on hand woven paper where the texture adds to the character of the painting? Making mistakes and learning from them until you have perfected the lines and the tones…
Will manual painting end up as relics in a museum? It’s a scary thought….

The mysterious purpose behind mundane events.

Charles Dickens is one of my favorite writers. I love the language he commands in his books. His descriptions is like a warm azure sky after a rain shower… the cool air blowing on your cheeks and the rain washed roads glistening in the sun reflecting the milieu while the soft warm smell of musty earth gently rises to fill your senses. Simply beautiful. What is most interesting about his narration is that the seemingly umpteen scattered untied strings all come together neatly at the end of the story. He does a great job imitating life.
What ever happens in life has a purpose. A beautiful reason lurks behind every insignificant event that is unraveled in time. Very, very Dickensian!
My daughter is 14 months old. Sometime in my fourth month of pregnancy, my husband surprised me gifting a beautiful locket with a delicate chain. I loved it and would wear it at most occasions. Once at my parents place, I was trying to clasp it when the chain broke at its end. I was very disappointed. My dad offered to get it repaired.
I sometimes can get unlucky with gold.
I once bought a golden locket of Ganesha. Its now almost 5 years since. It was plain and simple and I liked it at first sight. The purpose of our visit to the gold shop was something else. I was with my husband, then fiance, and his father to select my thaali for our wedding. Thaali is the traditional chain that a groom ties around his bride’s neck and in the Nair wedding is the most important symbol of matrimony. I ended up possessing this locket as well. At that moment I didn’t have a chain to go with it. Few months later my husband got me a beautiful amethyst locket. And eventually we bought a chain. While it was perfect for the amethyst locket, much to my disappointment the wider end piece which connects the chain to the clasp would not pass through the small loop of the Ganesha locket. So I now had to buy a connecting link. For various reasons I never got around to do it until recently. When I showed the shop attendant my locket he said I will need two links. You see, the loop on the Ganesha was perpendicular and another link would become parallel to the chain so I would need two and that would look bad. The only other choice was to break the chain end, put it through the loop of the locket and seal it back. Too much of a hassle. So I went back home resigning to the fact that I will never be able to wear that locket.
A few days later I was at my parents place. My dad had still not got around getting my other chain repaired. Tired of waiting I decided to get it repaired myself. I took the broken chain in my hands and was hit by a bolt of lightening. Oh not to worry… I meant figuratively! What was I thinking… Thank God he did not repair it. This chain with the broken end would go through the ‘lonely’ Ganesha loop and it could be welded back meanwhile my other chain was free for my other lockets!!!
You had already figured it out? Oh! Anyways I got it done today and I am wearing the locket for the first time in 5 years since I bought it. And I intend to wear it for some days!
There is a time for everything and a reason. If one my chains had not broken I probably would have never worn the locket. Another loose end ... tied up!!!
Cheers to providence!

My daughter is now officially a toddler. Though she still crawls once in a while, she has learnt to walk erect which is considered a miracle in the scientific world. Not too many objects with two supports are stable. And it is one of the defining qualities of Homo sapiens in the evolution history. She can understand quite a few things. She knows many objects around the house by its name and understands few verbs as well. Pointing to a combination of things she can define a long action. For example, pointing at her squeaky shoes, our slippers and the door suggests she wants to be taken out to the garden!. She happily complies if you ask for a kiss or a hug and at times when in a benevolent mood, without asking as well! She is still a reluctant talker though. Her vocabulary still primitive phonetics at best.
At each passing day of motherhood, I marvel at creation. The slow unfolding of the journey of a human being from a single cell to an independent being equipped with speech, capable pf expressing himself in so many ways, capable of climbing the highest mountain, creating breathtaking art and the new age marvels... A person who suffers from chronic depression should only see the marvel that is the human body and mind and his self worth will improve several notches. Like somebody said, human life is worth a non stop celebration. Just being born is a blessing.
Meanwhile let me just enjoy my daughter’s baby syllables and shaky steps to independence savoring the last few days of her endearing crawl.

When you go visiting a new born

That a baby is a fragile vulnerable thing, will be agreed by one and all. And yet we seldom show the respect a baby needs. We often take the little one, whether ours or others, for granted. But because a baby is so sensitive utmost care must be taken to make them comfortable in this world. Remember they have just arrived in this cold outside world from the warm coziness of the womb. They are experiencing cold and hunger, harsh lights and frightening noises for the first time!
Baby etiquettes is what I term them i.e how to behave near a baby. This is a forgotten lesson else we just don’t care.
1) Don’t rush to go see a new born baby in the hospital. The mother or relations, least of all the baby, will not get offended if you don’t go visiting the very day the baby is born. Usually, the process of delivering is a very exhausting process for the mother whether natural or caesarian. The baby keeps her awake in the nights and so a new mother seldom gets any sleep. It gets worse when she is kept awake in the day by visitors. Follow the visiting hours even if the hospital doesn’t enforce it strictly.
2) When you do visit the baby and you wish to hold her or him in your arms, wash your hand. A baby is sensitive and you might be carrying germs from the outside world that the baby is yet to build immunity to. This is a healthy practice mandatory in the west and completely absent in India. Set a good example for other visitors. Insist on washing your hands in front of them.
3) Another very important thing. When you go visiting a new born baby, remember to speak in hushed tones, esp. if the baby is sleeping. I have seen many people come and lecture me on top of their voices insensitive to the sleeping or nursing baby. Many babies react violently showing their displeasure at the high decibel intrusion by bawling aloud. Don’t wait for the baby to do that before hushing up. Some babies are more sensitive to noise than others.
4) Have you ever attended the milk giving ceremony that usually takes place when the baby turns a month old? The baby is initiated to outside food. In the olden days, newborns where given diluted outside milk very early to supplement breast milk. Today’s research shows exclusive breast milk till six months is best for the baby’s (and the mother’s) health. Every ceremony that I was invited to featured throngs of people arriving and insisting to feed the baby with milk unmindful of the discomfort it causes the baby. The ceremonial Indian wick lamp is usually lit and the fan switched off. Added to that is the body heat of the visitors. The place becomes stuffy and uncomfortable for adults. Imagine what a baby must feel like. For our baby we insisted only one of the grandparents give the milk. My baby didn’t cry. Also, the outside milk is not digested by the baby and most babies fall sick after the ceremony. Tradition is good but if it’s not in the best of interests it can be diluted or given away. If your are at one of these ceremonies, resist the urge to feed the baby. The baby and the mother will be grateful.
5) If the baby or the mother is sleeping or feeding, withdraw and defer your visit for another day. It’s not your prerogative to see the baby. My baby was very hard to put to sleep and what was worse, would wake up at the slightest stimulation. Once a couple came to see her when she was not yet four months old and I had just put her to sleep with difficulty. Normally, the practice was to take the baby out. I refused to and insisted they come and see the baby in the crib with the lights remaining off.
6) This is something most people forget. If there’s an elder sibling under the age of four, make sure you get a gift for her or him as well in case you buy something for the baby. The baby won’t mind if you don’t get anything for him but her elder sibling is old enough to feel left out.

Rain . Painting . Art

It’s such a pleasure to travel in Kerala in the monsoons. It’s cool and green as far as your eyes run amok. The paddy fields glistening in all the hues of green that can be imagined... palm fronds dancing in delight as the rain embraces them…the rivers, swollen with water, a little muddy... always reminds me of a maiden in the prime of her youth, Seductive.
But all this when you are in the comfort of a car or a bus. Walking in Kerala in the rains can be a night mare if you like to keep yourself dry. If there are no puddles to greet you then the entire road is probably under water! Lift your dress as high as modesty would allow and walk in rain friendly shoes.
Off late, I have joined painting classes with the intention to brush up my painting technique. Water colors is my favorite medium. I get overwhelmed when I look at a master’s work in that medium. The vibrancy of a water color can not be achieved in any other medium. As I get deeper into the ocean of painting. I realize the style that most suits my personality is impressionism in water colors. Few strong strokes conveying the dynamism of life. Oil Painting with the exception of those in impressionist style is static.
Even in the heaviest downpour wading through water logged roads, I trudge on most mornings to my class for the sheer joy of painting for couple of hours. As part of the curriculum I have painted many still lifes', a live model, Dante Gabriel Rossetti’s ‘The First Anniversary of the Death of Beatrice’ And lately, one of George Stubb's Horse threatened by a lion theme. When the instructor fetched these books for me to reproduce, my first reaction was a sinking feeling … a profound doubt whether I will be close to even getting the basics right. But the trick as I have learnt from life is to take it bit by bit.
Any new unfinished task appears daunting at first sight. Many thoughts crowd your head, from a fear of failure to a nagging doubt if you will ever complete the task. Even thoughts to abandon the task altogether stream in as the going gets tough. Maximum force is required to move an object from rest to motion. So, you just do it. Begin. Bite small pieces and before you know it, you are swimming confidently in the middle of the English Channel with the end in sight. And one fine day with the joy akin to seeing the sun stream through rain bearing clouds, the task will be complete. Lo, You have learnt to drive. There! You just finished the Sistine Chapel. And you will wonder, “Did I just do this? That wasn’t so difficult!”
That’s what art is all about. It mesmerizes you. Its those moments when you are connected to your soul. When the world with its harsh realities are a distant thunder. It’s the same feeling of ecstasy when you are listening to music, or painting or writing poetry. Its just you and the words… you and the colors on the paint brush kissing and caressing the paper moulding the image you see in your eyes or mind. Its exhilarating. I guess it all boils down to passion.
Passion is what turns work into art.

What do you do when you are feeling low and depressed?
Try cleaning the bathroom.
How does it work?
The main reason for depression if you evaluate it is self pity. A feeling of frustration at your state wishing things were different. Keep yourself busy and help others and depression will melt away.
When you clean the bathroom, you get to spend some time with yourself, you get to finish a job that you have been puting off since ages and as the floor starts to shine again it lifts your spirits.
You can also try ironing clothes or arranging the wardrobe. Works the same way. The shift from a state of disorder to order instills the same state on your mind.

It was a dark moment in our lives when we were DUPED into taking up a resort club membership. Some brilliant marketing by the executive and we bought ourselves a white elephant. We were offered what looked like an opportunity of the life time, not to be missed. And we who hardly vacation bought a resort club membership. After paying a down payment of over 2la we also pay an annual fee of about 2000 Rs. And all this so we can stay at select resorts for free. The food isn't free nor the other value added services. In case a guest is using the membership they have to pay 1000 odd Rs as guest fees. And you can't book for a day. You have to book for at least 2 days. To make it worthwhile you better stay as long as you can. You are allowed 7 holidays a year. Ah, but you can't accumulate them beyond 21 days. And of course while you are there, you pay for your five star food! Ingenious isn't it? Did I mention the traveling expenses you will bear from your house to the resort and back???
The Marketing manager who thought of this concept must have become a millionaire many times over by now with money from gullible fools like us. No. That’s not enough... he must be given a noble prize in economics!
Every time I recollect our membership I could kill somebody out of frustration. So not to feel like total idiots, we are forced to vacation whether we want it or not at resorts they specify. And you better book 9 months in advance else the rooms might not be available. Cheers.
Kudos to Club Mahindra. May you prosper on other peoples graves.
And if any of the readers have money to burn, please buy a membership. Or better still buy it from me so you will get it cheaper than today's rates and I might sleep in peace!!!

My husband is a sailor. He sails for 4 months and is on shore for about three. Since he was here last my daughter grew very attached to her dad. Recently he left to join ship.
I had read that its best to say a proper good bye to babies while leaving rather than sneaking away lest they become anxious. I didn't worry too much about it since Istill haven't started working and intend to be full time with my daughter for atleast another year. When we went to drop her father at the airport, it worried us should she cry seeing him leave. Not only would it be emotionally very difficult but its very difficult to soothe her when she cries and she has one of those high pitched ones! So we were glad in a way that she slept through most of the car ride and didn't wake up until after we got home leaving her father at the airport.
For two days she seemed to look for him and then would get distracted with me or my in laws. I assumed she was alright otherwise. Then I noticed she was increasingly unruly two days after he left. She was taking shorter naps and consequently didn't get enough sleep making her tired and cranky and generally unruly. Initially, I suspected teething or some other illness. Also, when she woke up from her nap or sleep she would cry very loudly and in desperation. Otherwise she used to cry only loud enough to attract someones attention. She preferred everyone in the house near her. If one person was missing she would go in search of that person. That's when it struck me.
She was revisted by her separation anxiety!
Separation anxiety affects most babies at some time or the other particularly in the latter half of the first year. I thought my baby was through it.
Once i had diagnosed what the problem was i could deal with it. I gave her extra cuddles and spent lot of time with her particularly when ever she seemed to want me. I tried to stay within her eyesight as much as possible and also ensured others in the house were nearby. For two days I didn't indulge in any sleep training and just let her be. I breastfed her a lot especially in the night whenever she woke up. I generally kept her close to me. She was fine and back to normal in a day.
If your child is waking up often or is sleeping poorly, it may be due to separation anxiety.

Roger Federer...The greatest?

When I used to refer to Federer as the greatest tennis player ever, they didn’t agree. After all, he had never won at Roland Garros. The fact that he made it to the finals three years in a row in the past wasn't good enough. AND YET LAST EVENING THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT HE DID. He won his first French open and the relief and happiness on doing it was evident. His emotional side coming to fore proving his human status when there was a time people speculated if he wasn’t an android programmed to win!
Of course the Federer of today is no match for the Federer two years back when he played flawless tennis with his shots teasingly on the line time and again. He knew no weaknesses. And the more he won the more confident he became. He is not modest and yet when he said “I played incredibly”, it never sounded arrogant or like boasting. It was just plain truth that he backed with his performance again and again. Now he has equaled Pete Sampras's record of 14 Grand Slam titles. But that achievement took a back seat in lieu of his winning the much desired French Crown. And he is 27years old. Surely there will be few more titles on the way before he lays his tennis shoes to rest.
Federer's best is probably over. All good things must come to an end. But, to me he is the greatest with or without the Prized Clay title.

Recipes for babies
If your baby is not taking veggies, here is a recipe that you can try at home
Chop carrots potatoes or beans fine or you can grate these (its faster!). Fry them in a little butter (or olive oil). Add a little milk and cook it till soft. Cool it and serve. You can add it to rice if your baby prefers that. Alternatively you can also add some cheese and cook it.Its easy and fast. And your cheese eating baby will also down some veggies. And its tasty enough to be eaten by adults in case of left overs!
Let me know if you liked it.

My daughter is one year old.
How soon has this year passed? And how much has she changed. She can stand up and is on the verge of walking. Very soon she will be all but independent. With "parents" looking to hinder all the "fun activities". Making them go to school. Not letting them play in the rain etc etc... The hardest thing is her not wanting me all the time. And worse, she prefers to go to others over me and needs me only when she is hungry or sleepy. That’s hard when there was a time not too long ago when I was the centre and entire universe and she needed me completely and at all times. I think a part of me will die when I stop breast feeding. I hold on to that now for a little cherished one - to - one time with my baby. This is foolish sentiment knowing it’s for good. It makes her a stronger personality exposed to different people and experiences and it gives me more time to catch up on all things I had put on the back burner since her birth. But a part of me cries for the times already receding into the archives of the past. I guess its time to rediscover my life now. I must learn to let go of her tiny hand slowly. The same hand that I first saw move in a hazy black and white image during the fifth month ultrasound scan. Sigh!

Don’t let them influence you to let your baby cry out

I wrote an article previously about not letting people influence you against breastfeeding. Another out dated and worthless piece of advice is to let your baby cry out.
Being a new mother you may have heard these at some time or the other...“When your baby is waking up in the middle of the night interrupting your sleep and if you have reasons to believe she isn’t hungry, just let her cry out to sleep. (A two month old baby is smart enough to manipulate you?!) or "Don’t carry her around too much or she will get used to it. Put her down and if she protests just ignore her. She will figure out soon enough that no one is picking her up and will shut up.”
And listening to these words, many mothers bite their tongue and in tears ignore their helpless baby’s whimpers. And unfortunately when you have decided to do it there can be only two outcomes. The baby cries louder, gets angrier and grows up into a difficult child and a difficult adult. Else the baby sleeps alright and grows thinking the world is an indifferent place that will not listen to her or him. She doesn’t understand you are letting her learn to sleep on her own. She feels abandonment. He becomes apathetic and withdrawn. I don’t think any mother if she wasn’t misguided would have the heart to let her child cry out. Its just too heart breaking to see your little helpless and vulnerable bundle cry pitifully either in hunger or just to feel the warmth of her mother's touch. The cruelest thing you can do to your baby is to let him cry out. And if you do get inured to let your baby cry, you become insensitive to her needs. Thrust out into this world completely helpless she is entirely dependent on others to keep her well fed, warm and safe. Imagine sleeping under a warm blanket and suddenly pulled out of it and thrust naked in the cold, receive no comfort and be ignored. Is there anything crueler? Whenever you feel that your baby is manipulating you, think about it from her point of view. She needs something. She is hungry or in discomfort or just craves for your warmth and touch. Researchers have been advising the importance of attachment parenting not only to ensure a happy baby but also a happy child and a confident adult.
Attachment parenting in simple words means, breast feeding your baby, carrying your baby around if she wants it and never let him cry out.
Indulge your baby for a year and then slowly start disciplining with gentle ways of correction. Focus on good behaviour rather than the undesirable. Research shows that a baby brought up with attachment parenting out grows the dependence on her mother much faster than a baby that isn’t and what is more, these babies are easier to discipline as well.
I can vouch for that thru’ my personal experiences. My baby is a classic "high need" baby. She cried a lot as an infant and wanted to feed continuously and preferred sleeping in your arms and would cry and wake up when put down. She wouldn’t go to anyone else. Listening to popular advice I did everything to ensure she slept on her own but luckily I never listened to the advice to let her cry out. I attended to her and indulged her needs. I couldn’t bring myself to let her cry out. Today she still sleeps poorly but getting her to sleep is an easier affair. And what is more, she is no longer overly attached to me and is happy to spend time with her father and grand parents. So much that she needs me only when she is hungry or sleepy. And yes when she hasn’t seen me in a while, she comes running or should I say “crawling”to me with such a happy face that it makes my days worthwhile. I only wish I had carried her more as an infant. Perhaps today her sleeping would have been better too. With all the facilities today like baby carriers you can have the baby close to you and still be free to perform your chores.
One of the trickiest things to teach your child is to sleep on her own. Many adults find it difficult. And its called insomnia! While some baby do master the skill early on and are generally good sleepers through out, other babies are wired differently and find sleeping a terrifying thing. These babies have to be parented to sleep. But no matter how long it takes, eventually every baby learns to sleep on her own.
. And if your baby is a difficult sleeper and you are on the verge of letting your baby cry out, then buy "The no cry sleeping solution" by Elizabeth Pantley. I found it extremely useful and things have been indeed better since I started referring the book. Dr. William Sears has written a series of books on attachment parenting and against the crying out method. Prominently, The Baby Book and The Discipline Book. It will be highly beneficial to refer to them as well.
Letting your baby cry out is cruel and inhuman. What ever you do, don’t indulge in it. Follow your heart.

My team is the Deccan Chargers. Why? B'cos with the kind of batting line up they had in the previous season, it looked promising to walk away with all the glory. 'Cept it wasn’t to be. In fact it finished last with the batting never really clicking and the limitations in the bowling department stood exposed far too clearly.
I am a fan of VVS and regard him one of the most stylish batsman to ever have graced the game. But as a captain he failed to gel his team into a cohesive unit. After the poor first season it made good sense to switch my allegiance to Chennai or some other team. Belonging to Kerala, I don't have a natural and obvious preferred team. I dream of a team in the future from Kochi called Island Warriors or something but it’s highly unlikely unless the game is football. Cricket comes a distant second after soccer when it comes to popularity, also helped by the fact that there haven’t been too many players from the state who have done consistently well playing for India. Much is expected of Sreeshanth and let us hope he comes thru’ good. And so I had a ‘Down South’ choice of Bangalore Chennai and Hyderabad to be bestowed the status of "my team". No one will disagree that it’s more fun when you have a team that you support. There is a sense of competition that makes viewing more pleasurable. For instance, ManU in EPL or Brazil in the Football world cup soccer or even Federer in Men's tennis. Season one of IPL was disappointing on a personal note albeit I enjoyed all the matches. And while other teams made merry and the Royals from Rajasthan, incidentally, the team least expected to win, walked away with the cup, I sulked in an embarrassing silence. Come season two and the temptation to switch sides was real and growing. We all like to support winners deriving vicarious pleasure in their success to vitiate the banality of our life. But I didn’t. I decided to stick with my choice thru’ thick and thin. And so "Till Death do us part", even if it meant another disappointing season or seasons, as the case might be. I had made my choice for life.
The South African pitches are said to suit the bowlers. So may be the Chargers might just do well. The pitch will help their bowling which isn’t the greatest and they have wonderful batsman to chase down a challenging total. Prospects look good. And to help things along, they convincingly won their first match against Kolkota Knight Riders... RP seems to have come to his own after a not too convincing performance that saw him left out of the Indian squad. The fielding was refreshing. Every one seemed perked up and purposeful under Gilly's command. There was seasoned camaraderie and positive vibes resonating through the team, crossing the barriers of nationality and language. The momentum will be with them as they seek their next opponents. Winning is a habit they say. The new jersey looks cooler then the last season and in all everything seems to be falling in its place. And it all spells good news for the proprietors! Here’s wishing them the very best for the tournament.

An active 7 month old baby can be quite a handful as I discover first hand. My girl rolls and tumbles reaching for all interesting things within her horizon and she is not even crawling. I will need to be on skates when she does, and hope I can keep pace with her!!! I now sense her slowly evolving into a child from an infant. She can show what she feels with a growing armory of expressions. A disarming smile that can light up the sky, bubbling, with arms that fling towards you demanding to be held, kicks when she doesn’t like the fact that you have sat down after walking her up and down the world... chuckles when she is really happy about something, usually when she is lifted high in the air or when you lay your head on her tummy, a scared expression runs through her face at every unfamiliar sound seeking reassurance from you. A smile from you means all is well. I now understand the movie "Life is beautiful" where Roberto Benini never loses his sense of humor even in the milieu of the concentration camp refusing to let it get to his son, Smiling in adversity, reassuring... things aren't that bad! I am looking forward to the days when she is more mobile... more expressive and says "amma"!!!
It’s hard to imagine what she was like... a tiny helpless bundle snuggling in your arms. And now it’s like watching a tiny bud open slowly to soak in the sunshine. When I look at her fresh supple skin I become aware of my own drying skin. There are more grey strands visible and unfortunately these are the strongest of strands! While she represents the fresh and the youth I realize life is running out fast. For her the sun rises and I am closer to the sunset. The circle of life charges on. The old and withering leaves must fall and give way to spring and soft fresh green delicate new leaves.