Meanderings and Reflections

A full bladder and bed bugs

2012-01-24T14:10:00.001+05:30

I AM FED UP. After a long process of thought and discussion, my husband and I decided to travel by the government bus to Chennai. We have had a history of bad experience with using the government transportation for commutation. I guess we made a grave mistake. This experience made me wonder why government services are always so very unreliable in every aspect (read hospital, public transport, toilets and the list goes on).

To our dismay, we found that the seats we had occupied has other inmates as well - Bed Bugs! Phew! I still have skin rashes that itch every now and then. When I googled 'bed bugs,' I was shocked to read the effects of the bite. I quote Wikipedia: skin rashes, psychological effects, and allergic symptoms. I started imagining about every single detail that I had heard of bed bugs:

They are very hard to get rid off.

I thought that they were long gone from India

They multiply in hundreds . . .

I thought, "Wikipedia is right. I am having psychological effects after the bite."

Now, bed bugs were the first problem. The second one is the unavailability of clean toilets or toilets itself. This is one place where I think, "If I was a man . . ." Why? A man can pee anywhere in this big country called India but a woman cannot do so. Hence, even when the bus stopped at two or three places, I could not empty my bladder. With the itching on one hand and a full bladder on the other, one can imagine how the travel would have been.

Now, this brings vital questions: Why does the government does not choose to take care of the resources it has? We hear of the crores of money being sanctioned for the welfare of the general public but in spite of that any government run service is appalling. I have asked questions as these many many times but I just wonder what can be done to solve this and many other issues. It is for this reason that when I imagine travelling, I always imagine travelling in Europe and other places but not India. Travelling in India would be quite a beautiful experience for the foreigner or the wealthy traveller who chooses exotic hotels and state-of-the-art transport. But for a backpack traveller like me, travelling in India is a nightmare, when I think of the toilets.

The experience has led me to swear to myself that I will never ever take a government bus when I have the option of taking any other transportation provided by private vendors.

Even as my mind cringes at the thought of that journey, my hand itches the rash given by the bed bugs. Let me itch, while at the same time, I ask you for your thoughts and suggestions on this topic.

If interested, you can read this article by Kalpana Sharma,which links lack of sanitation and school drop outs, which appeared in The Hindu on 22 Jan, 2012.

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Quotable quotes that make our life easy

2012-01-21T13:29:00.000+05:30

Inspite of me being a big sucker for quotes that fill my insides with warmth, rejuvenation and smiles, I often wonder about the context of the quotes that fascinate me. Many a times, I reckon that the quotes that we liberally use in times of need, were used in a specific context and time. While it seems quite easy for us to extract two lines from what a Mark Twain or a Gandhi quoted, we often don't see the larger picture.

On the other hand, quotes by great people always seem to uplift us and it appears that they have uttered those quotes just for us. And today, these quotes by great men/women are doing in the rounds quite often. Instead of posting what I had for dinner and tea, I always like putting up inspiring and wacky posts as my status messages. Why do I do so? Whenever I open my page, I see those wise two liners and instantly I warm to the truth in those lines. For a minute or two those lines assure me that in spite of the many failings of the human race, there is hope, love, joy and peace. Sometime I wonder whether I am using these quotes as a pill that instantly energizes perhaps, like Ginseng or a Viagra. Perhaps, yes.

On days when time is slow paced, I wonder about the context of those quotes which I greedily lap up. Why did Maya Angelou or Michelangelo say something? Did they know that years after they have uttered the words, it would be quoted and re-quoted by eager people who gain strength and energy by simply reading those quotes. Do great people such as Gandhi, Indira Gandhi, Coco Channel and others also have quotes that gave them inspiration? What makes people great? Power? Do you and me have quotable quotes within our selves? Whose quotes are clarified to become quotable quotes?

I did not hear my dad quoting extensively except from the Bible and few leaders. Neither did my grandfather. Maybe, today's exposure to the plethora of materials available gives us access to the speeches and letters of men and women who were great in their own fields. And, a line here and a line there from their interviews, speeches and other sources, might have been extracted and re-quoted in life-improvement websites, which in turn are used by people like me. Well, whatever said and done, these quotes are indeed grabbed greedily by me.

Maybe, someday, someone will quote something from what I have written and I will be completely oblivious about it AND maybe someone will blog about quotable quotes.

What's your take on this, dear reader.

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Romanticising the term 'single mom'

2012-01-17T11:26:00.001+05:30

After a lovely break from the routine humdrum of my usual life, I am back to blogging and reading blogs. Among the many things that surfaced from the break, one was the fruitful discussions I had with my girlfriend V. I was telling her how the tag 'single mom' is almost used like an occupation/job. One of the contestants in a popular reality show is a single mom and while every other contestant is introduced as SK, 37, Entrepreneur; RK, 26, Lawyer and so on, one contestant was introduced as WE, 29, Single mom. Now I was baffled. Why was WE introduced as a single mom and not by her profession. Is being a single mom another profession or is the media romanticing the term, single mom.

Viewing many programmes in the telly, I observe that there are many single moms who are often introduced with the term single mom. While there are single dads as well, they are never referred to as single dad. Are we as a society raising single moms to a pedestal and while we are secretly happy that we are better off, are we trying to pseudo-sympathise with the moms who are single. Why should the term even be used? Agreed that single moms are doing everything single-handedly but why choose that tag?

It is not enough that being a woman itself invites many troubles (not everywhere but atleast in India where harrassment/teasing/stereotyping/discrimination is quite rampant), the added burden of being a single mom and also romanticing it is a bit unwarranted for. But it should be noted that the single mom tag is mostly used in cases where the woman is divorced. What about women who are widowed? Even they are single moms, raising kids without a man and also bearing the brunt of bringing up children in a society which can be quite taxing on various aspects of life. And, there are men who are divorced who sometimes get the custody of children but do not carrying the tag/label of single dads. Why?

It's strange that on one hand we love to hate stereotypes but on the other, we also tend to glorify a certain gender for doing something which is not as great as it is made out to be.

I certainly wish that the term single mom is not used as a professional tag for in the world that adores equality (atleast it professes to be), the term seems quite inappropriate.

And, it would be wonderful to hear your thoughts on this.

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Contemplations on Flatulence aka fart

2012-01-10T13:07:00.002+05:30

Human beings have different interesting dimensions to them. One of them is the way an individual responds/reacts to sounds. One such sound is that of the fart. It is a natural process in which a person releases intestinal gas. Well, a process as harmless as a fart is something that evokes different responses from people. I have always been interested in these expressions that always remain unnoticed and unspoken.

Kids, especially, are quite thrilled when they hear the sound of a fart. They don't see any strings attached to the sound and the smell. Things like etiquette, politeness and formality does not matter to them but they do realise that the one who releases gas is an object of fun. One has to be careful for the kids harmlessly rattle away the statistics of the sound giving importance to the after-effects of the same.

I have seen (and heard) older people who don't restrict themselves when they have the need to release gas. They do so effortlessly without any reaction. As kids, we tried hard to supress our laughter when we heard a fart. But why does a simple act of releasing gas evoke so much laughter and fun. Is it the sound or the smell or the fact that the sound is released from a very unlikely place. Why is it that a burp and a hiccup is not seen as funny as a fart or a snore? On that note, farts and snores are the most laughed at sounds made by the human.

And how did a fart get into the notes for etiquette. Why is it not proper to fart in public? If one can sneeze and cough, why not fart? Especially with women, farting is a vice with a capital V. A fart by a woman is worthy enough to be the fodder for gossip. Why? I don't understand this fascination with farting. Just ignore and carry on. Why does one need to supress sniggers, look away and pretend to keep a straight face.

And to add to the facts and figures, we have farts that are common to a specific community and as all tall tales begin, this one begines like this: You know people from x community are always farting, no matter where and when. Who thought culture would intervene here. Maybe, it's the food habits of a specific community.

I don't know what more to think and say. You tell me.

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Gender appeal and blogging

2012-01-05T11:13:00.000+05:30

I have often wondered whether the gender matters while one chooses to follow/read a blog. For me, it has not been so but sometimes I do think that seeing a pretty/handsome face in the wee About me space makes the blog content more appealing. I certainly think that for some individuals, gender appeal certainly exists while blog-surfing. I can even say that following a particular girl's/guy's blog is the new form of virtual flirting.

Now what makes me think so, you wonder. I have seen many of my cousins' blogs where the content is not something which I can write home about but the followers . . . uhmmm. I could see all the guys who were flirting with her follow her blog. And my cousin is in her early 20s. Well, I thought it was only young people who were so but I have also seen many young men/women who flock to the blogs where there are cute profile pictures. Whether the pictures are fake or not, I don't know.

Blogs also pave way for getting to know a prospective partner, maybe. By becoming a follower, one can assess the content of the blog and hence the personality of the writer. One should know that these people who follow blogs using the gender appeal mode seldom read the entire posts; they are quite happy reading the titles and hence assuming what the content would be and also the writer.

For those who thought blogging was something for the closet writer to find a page, well, you have to look around. Blogging and following has many strings attached. I hope one does not get tangled.

On that note, if you have a funny bone, check out the website genderanalyzer.com to find out if a blog is written by a man or a woman.

Gender appeal, anyone?

Image: Internet

Expecting changes

2012-01-03T10:32:00.000+05:30

I have just returned from a class. The students seemed to be in a hazy state of mind and looked at me blankly when I posed a question to them. The question was: What are you expecting from this year? Save one student, all the others stared at me as if I had committed a great earth-shaking blunder. Well, I was completely amazed. One student even told me: I expect nothing. Well, here I am trying to be as normal as possible after coming back from a two-week break and putting on my best smile and trying to initiate a conversation.

Sometimes it so happens that every day passes off as something similar. A new year is not seen as something to look forward to and it passes off as boringly as the other days. I guess it's very easy to be cynical and try acting as if nothing matters. It does take an effort to expect something with the breaking of another new year. Afterall, we are getting another chance to repair the past where things weren't as favourable. Maybe everything was perfect in the bygone year and hence one does not feel the need to expect anything.

There were years when I was a cynical being. Trying to be a killjoy when someone announced a birthday or a new year wish. I completely wiped the joy that was vibrating from the individual. He/she was subject to my theories of nonsense and only after I released my dose of vitriol, would I let that person go. Now, when I look back, I regret those moments and times when cynicism took hold of me. That is precisely what happens when one reads too much of newspaper. Then one day, I stopped being cynical. I started seeing the joy that these moments bring. A new year is a gift. It is definitely an opportunity to start afresh. It is a time to again pick up those bits of us which have been neglected, overlooked and abused.

Coming back to my class. I didn't want to bore my students on the morning of my first class with them, by giving them a lecture on how to expect something from the year and making it happen. Well, they will know when they have to know. Time is a great teacher, isn't it?

So, what do you think?

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Looking forward to 2012

2011-12-31T10:10:00.000+05:30

This year has been quite eventful in every sphere of my life, I should say. For the first time in my life, I got chicken-pox; After years of toiling, I submitted my Ph.D thesis and I also willingly gave up my single-hood. Well, the aforementioned were the highlights, if I may say so but there there have been other aspects of the year which gave life a wholesome effect. Blogplicity, an interactive blogging community gave me lovely blogger pals and their blogs, this year.

Looking back, I am older than last year and younger than what I will be next year but that has not hindered any process and progress, of course, I have changed my moisturizers and lotions. I have lost touch with people with whom I used to correspond and interact when 2011 began. I do miss them but then life had other paths which were already carved out, for me and them. They will always be on my mind and I wish them good health, prosperity, wholesome life and above all joy in every sphere of their lives.

Learned to compromise in a big way and also learnt that compromise is the only way in which life can go on without much breakdowns. Well, I don't like that word now. It irks me: COMPROMISE.

Reading the variety of blogs that are littered over blogland, I realise how much topics are out there and how much is left to explore. I must say that 2011 has been a boom time for many blogs. Well, well, . . .

For the first time, I was stranded in a train while the cyclone Thane passed. When I read of the many deaths and destruction caused by the cyclone in today's paper, I realise the intensity of the situation.

I don't know whether I have become wiser this year but I know for sure that life is full of surprises (perhaps, shocks) and those arrive at a time when one least expects them. And that the phrase, 'I have moved on,' and 'Move on with life' is quite overrated. Even some institutions which have been held dear by many are quite overrated. Well, some people don't realise that truth. Good for them. A little funny for people on the other side, like me, for instance.

The world has lost many artists that have coloured my growing up years. Though their deaths didn't affect me personally, I do miss their presence in this world. That they lived in the same world as me gave me solace. But now they are no more. Maybe good for them to have escaped this life.

Inspite of everything, the new year holds promises and new beginnings and I look forward to it with the same child-like pleasure of my early years. The new year does have something, isn't it. William Arthur Ward is just right when he said:

“Another fresh new year is here .
. .
Another year to live!
To banish worry, doubt, and fear,
To love and laugh and give!

This bright new year is given me
To live each day with zest . . .
To daily grow and try to be
My highest and my best!

I have the opportunity
Once more to right some wrongs,
To pray for peace, to plant a tree,
And sing more joyful songs!”

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Wishes for the season

2011-12-19T11:22:00.000+05:30

Dear Readers:

It has been wonderful to interact with you in the past eleven months. I will be away for about ten days now and shall see you just before the year comes to an end. But before I leave, I leave you with best wishes for this lovely season.

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Moths and related thoughts

2011-12-17T12:57:00.001+05:30

When the day slowly fades and dusk appears, many moths make an appearance in my home. These moths are dull looking creatures which sometimes irk me and sometimes don't make any difference to me. Yesterday, a dead one was lying on my kitchen floor and while I was looking at it intently, my thoughts meandered to many things related to moths, one of them being the film The Silence of the Lambs (TSOTL). And, TSOTL is always Hopkins, Hopkins and Hopkins. I remember when I first saw the film, I was smitten by the personality of Sir Anthony Hopkins. His suave dialogue delivery, his intelligent observations, his philosophical demeanour, his love of fine food and the way he responds to Clarice saying, "Good Evening, Clarice." I wondered if any man could be as polished and splendid as Hopkins. I would weave imaginary dialogues with Hannibal and enjoy the witty repartee.

Whenever anyone mentioned TSOTL, I would rattle off about the excellent dialogues of Hopkins, often to amused looks by the listeners as Hopkins was a cannibal in the film TSOTL. Many times I have observed that people tend to look only at one aspect of the character in question. Hannibal, being a man-eater, blinded people to other facets of his character. Inspite of being appalled by the manner Hannibal eats human brain in one of the films, his character in the film and the two sequels, have never ceased to enthrall me.

Anthony Hopkins' signature on a photograph of a still from the film, The Silence of the Lambs

I don't know how many have watched the film TSOTL and reveled in the finer aspects of the film like the dialogues and the way the mind works. I have watched the film several times now and time and again, I seem to enjoy watching just the dialogues between Hopkins and Foster. I like films which have cerebral dialogues delivered flawlessly and smoothly. I don't remember any other character as well as I do this one.

As for the moth, I swept the place clean and returned to my thought of Hopkins. Now, if you haven't seen the film, you might wonder about the connection between the film and the moth. I guess, you have to find that out by either watching the film or reading about the same in Wikipedia.

When one thought leads to another and another, one can get quite comfortable and rooted to a place, say the couch or the bed. After all the thoughts are done, time seems to have gone by effortlessly. Reality strikes hard and seems dull like the colour of the moth. One cannot have imaginary dialogues with Hopkins forever.

So, what are your thoughts after reading this post.

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Meandering on my calling

2011-12-15T12:46:00.000+05:30

For a long time now, this thought and related thoughts have been filling my mindscape and I haven't been able to arrive at any conclusion. Teaching is a noble profession. It is indeed . . . until I began officially teaching at a University. Now, this is ambition and calling for me. I had always imagined that if one has likes to do something and pursues the same, it will be fulfilling, wonderful and all that jazz. But nurturing an ambition and actually pursuing it are two different paths. Hope you get what I mean. I had assumed that since I like being with young adults and also liked literature, teaching would be the ideal occupation, if I may say so. Well, the whole world also thinks that way. And, teachers are always looked upon by almost everyone. This rosy bubble coupled along with my desire made me a teacher. I have also shared many tales of my occupation as a teacher in this blog, which many of you have read and commented.

But somewhere down the line, I realise that possessing a love for something alone does not keep you going. The practicalities of the real situation sometimes wriggle the initial enthusiasm and drain it drip by drip. I had always presumed that the industry of education is quite a sane place. Time and again, I have been proved wrong. Back-stabbing fellow teachers, cut-throat competition for popularity, messing up marks in favour of a favourite student, and many more tales fill the education industry. Now, when I think back, I seem like a fool who thought that all was fair in the world of teachers and students. I wonder about my calling. But mind you, leaving a job which pays a salary at the end of the month, is not easy. When lovely quotes which says, If you don't like your job, QUIT, I wonder. I wonder whether it is as easy as the quote makes it out to be.

Another thought that niggles me while on this profession is drawing the line between being emotional and professional. I always tend to relate at a personal level with most of my students. I laugh when they are happy, pat when they are down in the dumps, nod when they walk with their love interest and advice when they want me to. But this attachment always sends wrong signals to the students. They tend to assume that if I am close to them, then that will earn them more marks. But I just cannot give marks freely. I give them the marks they deserve and that strains the relationship. The student assumes that I have two sides to me: the friendly one and the that of a strict teacher. And, off she/he goes about telling everyone how I gave him/her very low marks. Phew!! What do I do?

Only this job gives you two months holidays and you can come home early, blah, blah. Well, I do accept that fact but in the term days, the amount of pressure and stress that is loaded on the individual is enormous. The students' faces always clears many a cloud and gloom - Well, I accept that as well but how long? Sometimes, I think that it is quite early to arrive at such thoughts as this post carries. I have been teaching here only for a year and before this I was in a dreamy residential school called Rishi Valley, which I blame for my higher standards of expectation.

I also understand that wherever humans are present, there is bound to be jealousy, competition et al, but then enlightened souls in the education department ought to be different from the others (so I thought/still think).

Sighs. Such a long post. Tell me, what do you think.

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I cook, I click, I post . . .

2011-12-14T15:18:00.002+05:30

The recent avalanche of food blogs, pictures of food on Facebook and the delight in exclaiming, "I love to cook" has had me thinking. Decades ago, feminists outcried against the fact that cooking and kitchen were the rightful place for women and during those times, women tried liberating themselves from the kitchen and other labels. But now the woman of today has risen up to the fact that cooking is a skill which she wields quite efficiently. Displaying the various items cooked on social networking sites, lay claim to the attention that she needsfor her rightful skills.

But has this phenomenon reduced woman again to the confines of her kitchen? But if she is enjoying the glory, what is the problem? And, I am also wondering if the media with its glossy cookery shows and glamorous chefs has again pushed the women to the same old place albeit a bit classy in the present day.

All said and done, I enjoy cooking as well as eating but have still not ventured into posting pictures of the food I eat everyday. Perhaps, I will never do it. Why should my private table be set in front of the whole world? Is it to prove that in spite of being a working woman, one can cook delicious stuff by effectively managing time or is it to prove to the world that exotic dishes is not the privelege of a select few or why should Nigella Lawson get all the drools and wows. Well, the whole idea of exhibiting food at social networking sites shouts out to the fact that cooking has once again become something that one should feel proud of.

Though unproven, it is for a fact that the kitchen is the brewing place of many a quarrels between the women of the house, that of the mother-in-law and daughter-in-law reigning supreme amongst the others. And as it has been oft said, 'The way to a man's heart is through the stomach,' it is no doubt that food and exhibiting food is a fashion statement in the present times and for now, it is to stay.

I forgot to mention, the word 'food porn' which is in vogue these days has me in splits!!! Who thought porn would venture into the world of food (chuckles).

Eat well. Stay smiling. What say, dear readers.

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Stifled between cultures and world views

2011-12-11T12:17:00.001+05:30

Growing up in the eighties without a television-set and certain other gadgets, life seemed to be very simple and devoid of the layers that now come to possess me. Long time ago, I wrote a post on how dualisms suffocate me and meandered on my identity which seemed to cris-cross several identities. I feel children growing up in today's world will face the nagging problem of being stifled between cultures and world views. And, it's not only children but many individuals like me who are faced with this dilemma. Let me explain.

Being born in India, there is a specific culture and value system which is present inherently within us. With the onslaught of globalisation and different cultural perspectives of the so-called West, one faces a crisis when it comes to adhering one's own culture as well as accommodating into the Western culture. I cannot draw a line of demarcation between cultures but there are some characteristics that are quintessentially Indian. One glaring example of this is the concept of 'space.' Years ago (atleast from the conversations I heard), there was nothing like, "My personal space" but now this phrase has become a predominant part of every second conversation. Perhaps that's why there is a conflict between the joint-family system and the nuclear one. Personal freedom is being underlined in red by every single individual but this was somehow not given much importance before. I cannot say whether it was good or bad. Somehow, it seems to me that India always put others first and then the self. The seeping of Western media, ideas and MNCs into our psyche has blurred the ideals and values that our culture possessed. Now, I don't mean to be parochial but this is a hard fact that one has to come into terms with.

In turn, the West is now turning to Yoga, spirituality and other quintessential Eastern systems for values and other gratifications while we, on the other hand are swinging between two extremes of the East and the West. Sometimes being caught between these two world views makes one hazy and nauseous. As someone, I don't recollect who, remarked that in today's world, religions, cultures and other systems are placed in the global supermarket and it is up to us to choose whatever we want and follow the same. But why choose something when we have something quite invaluable? Perhaps, it is another dimension of the global to embrace many cultures and practices. Well, I wonder. I, for one, cannot see the world as home!

This post was quite an existential rant, if I may call it so. If you make any sense out of this, please do share your views.

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"You belong to the throwaway generation"

2011-12-07T12:10:00.001+05:30

A few weeks ago, when one of my senior colleagues opened his lunch-box, he remarked: "Susan, I've been using this box for the past thirty years. My wife used this lunch-box when she was at school and then I used this when I was teaching at Madras and now here it is." I wondered about the years and the stories that the lunch-box carried. I asked, "Sir, didn't it occur to you to change the box?" He replied, "It was good so why change it?" Overhearing this conversation, another colleague remarked: "You belong to the throwaway generation. We are the keepers." Now, this comment unsettled me. "Do I belong to the throwaway generation?"

I have seen my relatives keep many things that belonged to their ancestors. I never imagined that it had to do with the generation. Forgive me, but America's sociologists like labelling each generation. For example, The Baby Boomers, The Rock-n-Roll, and so on. I have also seen documentaries which mention that the manufacturing houses don't make products that are intended for long-time usage in today's world. Throwaway products rule the roost. Looking around, I find that most products are intended so. But the throwaway tag directed at me, was disturbing. I don't mean to deny that sweeping generalised statement of the generation, but there are exceptions.

There are many references to clearing away clutter from our houses. And if one observes, the objects that add to the clutter are those which are kept for the sake of sentiment. And, after a period of time, the objects add pride to the owner. It is not without a feeling of pride that one remarks: "You know, my great grandmother used this towel/bed/fork/spoon/napkin/knife . . . and so on." Well, I respect sentiments and if the object is in usable condition, there is no need to do away with the same. Now gradually, I am sounding like one who is the rightful member of the throwaway generation. I find that keeping things that one does not use is absolutely unnecessary. Maybe, I don't know where to draw the line.

This discussion here, brings to my memory a few lines from Pamela Redmond Satran's quote, "Every woman should have."

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ..
a good piece of furniture not previously owned by anyone else in her family…

Going by the quote, I realise that sometimes having objects owned by others carry the negative energies and failures of the previous owners. So why not possess new goods when one moves into a new home and life? Do I still seem to belong to the throwaway generation? Maybe, I cannot deny that fact. But I do confess to having keepsakes which I cannot part with easily.

So, what do you have to say on this topic.

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By any chance, are water and creativity connected?

2011-12-01T19:28:00.001+05:30

Maybe it is just another of the many coincidences, but I am beginning to think that there is some mysterious connection between water and creativity.

Let me explain: Three places that drive my mind to uncountable thoughts: potty, sea-shore and bathroom. If you ask me what is the common denominator present in all the three places - Yes, it is water! Water is present in the potty, sea-shore and the bathroom.

Of course, being alone in a place forces oneself to concentrate on one's thoughts and hence the creativity puzzle is partially solved. But in the sea-shore?!?!? Even when I am with friends and family, thoughts just gush within and I'm forced to give in. I think it's the influence of water. Now as I am writing this post, another thought just crossed by. Yes, the water present in alocohol. When one is under the influence of alcohol, one gets quite creative and imaginary. Well, now that is another line of thought.

Coming back to water and creativity. This post was born out of two potty sessions and developed while at the shower. You see why I am growing stronger into believing that water and creativity are connected.

Well, what is your take on this? Maybe it is the same for you as well.

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Encouragement as opposed to giving a false sense of self-worth

2011-11-28T10:09:00.001+05:30

Being a teacher and a human being with an acute sense of observation, some points just cannot be missed. Increasingly, in my profession I have observed fellow colleagues who for gaining popularity and fan-fare feed the students with a false sense of self-worth in the form of encouragement. This led me to look into the nuances of encouraging an individual. How does one define encouragement?

Instead of looking at the meaning, I thought I will look into some of the synonyms of the word encouragement: boost, goad, spur, instigate and so on. Well, all the listed synonyms give a sense of pushing the individual to perform to the utmost of their abilities. But there is a catch here, sometimes there is a fine line that divided words of encouragement and empty words which instill a sense of false self-worth. If a student x is lazy and not focussed, I could encourage x to dig deep into herself and bring out her true qualities. But I could also do something else: I could attribute the feeling that inspite of not doing well, x is the best. By doing the second, I would lead x to believe that x is the best, inspite of knowing that x is not.

Well, sometimes in the pretext of encouraging a student, one should not attempt to destroy the knowledge that a student has limitations. Limitations are part of every individual and overcoming those limitations and moving ahead is a challenge everyone faces on a day-to-day basis. But to feed thoughts into a student's head that says that there are no limitation, leads to a very fatal outcome.

A teacher's greatest killjoy is when a student challenges the teacher that she/he is not respecting the student's worth. A teacher/individual ought to respect each person for what he/she is and strive to encourage in order to stimulate the students but sometimes this encouragement is done in several neagative ways by some individuals, who are gradually engaging in instilling a false sense of self-worth in a student. And I for one, cannot tolerate empty words of false self-worth.

What are your thoughts on this subject? I hope you get what I mean.

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Incest, imprisonment and revenge

2011-11-22T13:39:00.001+05:30

When I last did a post on a Japanese film, a reader, A. J. Poliquit commented: "Films from the Far East are slow and calming with memorable music." Having AJ's comment in mind and the backdrop of the movies that I have already watched, I sat down to watch the Korean film, Oldboy. The film was definitely slow (in the beginning) but not calming.

The protagonist is locked up in a cell for 15 years, without knowing why he is locked up. I had tremendous difficulty in following those parts as I was completely oblivious to what was going on with him. It almost seemed that along with the protagonist, even I was perplexed and confused. The film's narrative was also a bit confusing as it went back and forth between what happened before, during and after the 15 years of imprisonment. In fact, one had to pause, go ahead and then resume the movie, in order to understand the narrative scheme and the plot. Movies like this one, though keep me glued, exasperate me.

It is after some time that one realises that the imprisonment is an act of revenge for something that happened in the past involving the protagonist and two other individuals who were students of the same school. When I came to this part, I understood the title of the film (Ahhhhhhhhhhh. A long sigh). It is after this part that the movie gets exciting. What's next? What's next?

Then the story rapidly moves forward with shots of the past cradling the present. A tale of incest is revealed. After sitting through all this, one is left wondering about the different nuances of life, relationship, crime and emotions. The film is definitely a thriller and it thrills you in different ways sometimes leaving you with a bitter taste.

The film has some distasteful scenes. Let me mention two. In one scene, the protagonist eats a live octopus and in another he chops off his own tongue.

This film from the Eastern world shook my sensibilities and I am short of words when it comes to praising the craft of the director, Park Chan-wook.

Watch the film if you can digest incest, imprisonment and revenge sprinkled with some gory scenes.

So, what kind of films do you like watching? Will you watch Oldboy, if given a chance?

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This thing, that thing, which thing

2011-11-14T15:57:00.001+05:30

The word thing, I guess, should be the winner of the contest "One word for all." It is much easier for anyone to say 'that thing' rather than the actual word that should be used in a particular context. Take this example:

X: I like that thing in your T-shirt

Y: Which thing?

X: That yellow thing

Y: You mean that smiley?

X: Yes, that smiley thing

Well, every object, emotion, idea is reduced to a 'thing' or 'thingy.' Lets's see another example,

A: I think I have a thing for Josh Groban

B: Same here. Even I have a thing for him. Do you think we should write a thing for him?

And, it is not only young people who use the word 'thing' as a substitute for words but also adults. And, I must hasten to add that yours truly is also found guilty of using the T word for lack of memory of the original word.

The usage of the word in certain contexts almost ends up in double meaning. For example, the T word is used as a euphemism for sexual organs and sex itself. People saying, 'my thing is itching' or 'we did the thing' is not quite uncommon. But it does get hilarious when people say, 'My book is on your thing' (here, thing refers to bed). But the beauty of this kind of 'thing' communication is that the speakers who are part of the conversation perfectly understand the connotation of the word 'thing.'

Using the word 'thing' for almost every object or feeling, the literal meaning of the word is forgotten. But, that is secondary because communication is what matters and so anything is fine!

Now, let me leave you with the video of the song That Thing You do! from the movie of the same name. And why did I choose this song? Well, you guessed that one, quite right.

What do you think about thing and do you do the thing thing (winks) always?

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What's your worth?

2011-11-08T18:35:00.000+05:30

Clothes maketh a man says a popular adage but sometimes this adage is taken a bit too seriously by many merchandise sellers. Sales personnel at many retail outlets literally try to guess the worth of the customer by the way he/she is dressed. Now, don't get me wrong here. I am not propagating shabby dressing sense or pleading the cause of people dressed carelessly. I am just trying to say that a person should not always be judged by the manner of dressing. Some people just don't care about their dressing. Period. Take this professor who is my colleague. He is an intelligent academic scholar who is well read and quite quirky as well. He has his own eccentricities like we all do and can be a perfect illustration of an 'absent-minded professor.' Once he happened to visit a popular upmarket book-store and at the entrance, he was warned, All the books here are very expensive. Well, the security would have no idea that the person in question holds a PhD from one of the most prestigious institution in the country. All that mattered was that the professor was dressed quite shabbily.

A person's worth is determined by his/her clothes. And, if one is not well dressed then it is assumed that the person cannot afford 'decent' clothes and hence a poor man. Well, if that that is the case then is monetary worth determined only by the appearance? History records that many geniuses never cared about their presentation in public: unkempt hair, dirt-filled nails, different footwear for each leg, button-less shirts and an open fly.

Having said all this, I would also hasten to add that it is quite impossible to blame the security as he with his limited knowledge of the world matches the outward appearance and the monetary worth. His world is limited to the equation: money=well-dressed and poverty=shabby clothes. He cannot estimate that sometimes there are also individuals who do not care about how they look for their mind is preoccupied with things that are far more important to then than smart dressing.

And, I also don't negate the fact that well-dressed people do have an edge in this world which gives importance to sheen and outward looks. Afterall, Clothes maketh a man in the world and Bacon's Reading maketh a full man is only limited to certain circles.

So, what is your take on this. Do you make first impressions based on clothes or do you wait before arriving at a conclusion?

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When the graduates protested

2011-11-05T20:35:00.001+05:30

Yesterday I was at one of the oldest Universitys of the country, University of Madras, to attend a convocation. The governor, Dr. K. Rosaiah was there and the guest of honour was the UGC chairman, Prof. Ved Prakash. Normally in a convocation the degree certificates are given and then we come back home. But this time there was some extra zing to the whole affair. There was a fight and a resolution along with a promise.

First, it was announced that only one student from each department would come to the dais and receive the doctorate degree, as the programme had to wind up within an hour. For some time there was no much flutter and then it came. A PhD graduate who had come to receive his doctorate protested that he didn't want the degree just handed to him. He wanted to receive it from the governor. His point was valid. One comes from afar off to only find that the degree would be handed over to him not on the dais but where he is seated, will definitely cause irritation. When that man rose in protest, many graduates joined him and protested the plan. But through all this, there were many graduates who were just seated. For them it did not make any difference. If I was there in their place, it wouldn't have mattered to me. For me, my degree would matter and not whom or where I got it from.

In the picture L to R: Registrar and Controller of Examinations (in yellow) Dr. Leo. T. Alexander, Vice-chancellor (in purple) Col. Prof. G. Thiruvasagam, Governor and Chancellor of the University (seated) Dr. K. Rosaiah and a graduate receiving his PhD degree.

The Vice-chancellor and Registrar came into the picture. They pleaded with the graduates to return to their seats. Their plea fell on deaf ears. Phone calls were made and there was visible tension in the eyes of many officials. Finally the VC announced: All of you will receive your degrees from the governor. There was an applause and peace had descended on the faces of the protesting PhD graduates.

Seeing all this, I wondered that many times we are quite content with whatever is thrust upon us. Sometimes it is assumed that people will accept whatever is doled out to them quite willingly. Even in the convocation, if one man hadn't started that protest, none of them would have. This goes for everything. I think of Auden's poem, The Unknown Citizen. A citizen who is quite invisible and does not have his/her individual voice. How many years we have been so and will continue to be so, I imagine. And, having said all this, even I am like that citizen who accepts and conforms. After all, life goes on.

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An ode to a trusted companion

2011-10-31T10:11:00.000+05:30

For the past few months, John Ronald Reuel Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings, (hereafter TLOTR) had been my faithful companion, never leaving my side except for the time I spent at the University and few hours on food, sleep, conversation and other things. Now that I have completed the trilogy, I sense a vaccum. For long, Frodo, Sam, Merry, Peppin and others filled my time and I laughed as they laughed and was sad when something was amiss with them. When the fellowship of the ring was broken, I was quite anxious that the party should get together again. Well, let me stop gushing and continue with the post.

A book (both fiction and non-fiction, but in this case, fiction) provides an assortment of emotional vagaries within us. Not only we are transported into the time frame of the book but we also integrate the lives of the characters within our own. Their quest becomes ours, their thoughts colour ours, and sometimes their anguish becomes ours. And if the book is like TLOTR, one spends a considerable time with the book which has three parts, with each part consisting of few hundred pages. The characters no longer belong to the book alone but are very much part of my waking time.

Not the characters alone, but one tends to imbibe the language and vocabulary present in the book. The evil characters in TLOTR, are Sauron, Saruman and the Orcs. At the time of reading the book, any student who gets on my nerves is an Orc and any person whose intentions are crooked and vile is Saruman. I don't know whether you notice but metaphors and similes are largely from the book which is being read. Ah, and how did I forget Mr. Gollum! Gollum-like is my favourite phrase now!

In more than one way, the book becomes one's companion, leading one through strange lands, people, language and experience. Now that I have parted with Sam, Frodo, and others, I am restless for laying my hands on other works of J. R. R. Tolkein's. And some works fill us with wisdom that comes in handy during unexpected times.

Before I end, let me leave you with a quote from Part I of TLOTR.

“All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

Now, what do books mean to you, dear readers?

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The innocence of not knowing prices and value of things

2011-10-25T16:40:00.000+05:30

Long ago, when I was a kid, it was wonderful to think that everything was possible and easy in life. For example, it was quite common to think that I will have a house by the sea and have a large telescope in my living room which would enable me to view the craters of the moon. Alas! the world from the eyes of a child is seldom based on practical calculations and pragmatic decisions. That world is Utopia, I reckon.

It is quite amazing to observe that as children, we don't estimate wishes and dreams through money. But that innocence slowly fades when one enters the teens. The harsh reality of money and value seeps into the thoughts and slowly the wishes disappear. All that one wants, as a teenager is something removed from the fantasies of a child. The "house by the sea" slowly vanishes and what is visible is the great idea of a 'career.' The becoming of something (I mean in a profession) is the ultimate beacon to be reached. Parents, teachers and well wishing adults remind us to remember what we have to become in the future. Even the path to a career needs money but that can be attained, anyway.

In the meanwhile, the child that we were talking of in the first paragraph, starts attaching a price to everything material. A house costs a lot of money and a house by the sea costs even more. Dreams have to be dreamt based on the cost price. Then the wishes no longer remain wishes. They become pursuits.

The other day I was thinking of how as a child, I wished for so many things. The wishes were just wishes and not something that I should possess. Wishing is one and possessing is another. I hope you get what I mean. We wished because we liked to pass our idle hours in thinking of something. It used to be a lovely pass time before sleep folded us up in her loving arms. But now, when sleep eludes, I calculate the price and wonder when will I be able to accumulate money to buy X or Y. It is at this juncture, faith enters. As a child there were wishes but no faith but now there are wishes and faith.

I guess the cycle has to go on.

Well, I don't know whether I made sense in this post. If this post kindled something within, then would you care to share what was kindled? I would be all ears . . .

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Cannot let go . . .

2011-10-20T12:54:00.001+05:30

Let me tell you a story: In the Mahabharata,Parashurama was the instructor of the warrior Karna, born to a Kshatriya motherbut raised as the son of a charioteer, or lower class of Kshatriyas. Karna cameto Parashurama after being rejected from the school of Drona, who taught thefive Pandava and one hundred Kaurava princes. . . . One day, Parashurama wassleeping with his head resting on Karna's thigh, when a beetle crawled up andbit Karna's thigh, boring into it. In spite of the bleeding and the pain, he neitherflinched nor uttered a cry so that his teacher could continue his rest (Sourcedfrom: http://www.agnihotrausa.net/Lord-Parashuram.html).

Well, I told you the story so that my post becomeseasier to relate. Like the warrior Karna, who did not budge when the beetle wasbiting him so that he would not rouse his master, I find it extremely difficultto budge when someone holds my hand and falls asleep. This mostly happens inthe context of younger kids and cousins who come home.

The young ones hold my hand and drift away to sleep.In spite of sleeping soundly, they don’t let go of my hand and this causesimmense conflict within me. When I sleep, I always like to toss and turn untilI fall asleep and hence would like to be free of any physical contact. But someof my cousins and sometimes even my sister tend to hold my hand which restrictsmy movement. Somehow, I think that if I move or try to disengage their handfrom mine, their sleep will be disturbed and so I continue to lie motionless.Many times it has so happened that when the person holding my hand tends tosnore, I think that I can safely but gently disentangle my hand. But it seldomhappens so. The person immediately stirs and also awakens. When the person’speaceful slumber is disturbed, it causes quite a furore and hence I tend toavoid movement of any sort. I patiently wait for the time when the person turnsto the other side eventually letting go of his/her clasp on my fingers. Untilthen, I somehow try (sometimes successfully and sometimes unsuccessfully) tounclasp my fingers from theirs. Sometimes even when mosquitoes tend to bite me, it is difficult to unclasp the fingers.

Though Karna’s sacrifice was quite an extreme oneand mine cannot come anywhere close to his experience, the basic premise of theargument is movement.

Well, how comfortable or uncomfortable are you indisengaging yourself from another’s clasp while they are near-sleep or sleeping?

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Signature and related thoughts

2011-10-15T11:25:00.001+05:30

Our signature speaks for us. I don't mean the way we sign our names but the words we use to end the post comments, mails and letters. For about three years now, my signature line has been "Joy always" and the reason for that is a wee story that I would like to share with you. But for getting wind of the story, I would direct you to my dear friend Corinne's page, where I have the honour of writing a guest post titled Joy Always.

Corinne's blog which is titled Everyday Gyaan (Gyaan translated as knowledge in Hindi/Sanskrit) is a place where one could find inspiration for living life amidst the ongoing stress, tension and niggling emotional downsides. Corinne infuses wisdom and knowledge through her personal stories, which in turn leaves the reader with warmth and calm.

I leave you with the pledge which is found in Corinne's blog. Be refreshed and strengthened at her place.

Joy always :)

Images: Sourced from Corinne's website.

A worthwhile journey this far

2011-10-12T17:28:00.001+05:30

It has been quite a journey and how! This day, the 12th of October, 2008, my first post titled Coversations while traversing on a rainy day in an auto was written. That day I just knew that I had to write down my experience of that travel and the platform provided by Blogger seemed ideal. I didn't even know about comments, followers, templates and other things. I just chose a name for this corner and typed in my first post and hit the 'Publish' button. The thought that people would read a post by me did not enter my mind. I imagined that this wee place would be the one where I would record my insignificant observations and personal reflections.

After I wrote the first post, I didn't even check my blog. I had forgotten all about it until November, when something painful happened. I wanted to escape the pain. I wanted to divert myself. I wrote . . . and wrote. I never looked back. Blogging has come to mean many many things now than the first time I wrote that post on a rainy day. That post was published in the morning at 07. 09 am. I wonder how I got to writing something that early in the day. And that post received only two comments :)

The journey has been wonderful this far. To all my followers, commenters, blogger-friends and anonymous readers: THANKS. You have been the best part of this endeavour.

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SLR clicks, stale jokes, a big TATA Grande and lots of bloggers

2011-10-10T11:31:00.000+05:30

For the second time, I bravely attended a bloggers meet alone. The last time, I attended one organised by Indibloggers, I met some good bloggers with whom I am still connected via blogs. This time the meet was at The Hyatt Regency and Tata Grande sponsored the event.

Though less apprehensive than the last time, I put up a bold front as I was a 'veteran' blogger and one blogger meet old. I slowly walked in and registered myself and got a stamp on my wrist which confirmed my registration. Picking up a tall glass of juice, I scanned the room for familiar faces. I was disappointed as I could not spot any (either no one from the last meet had come or I had forgotten faces). I settled beside an animated group and after few awkward moments of silence, I barged in: "Can I also join you guys?" I was warmly added to the group and then on I began non-stop . . .

All the while we were in that ball room of Hyatt, someone or the other was clicking pictures, either in posh SLRs, or digical camera or through mobile phone cameras. For once, I did not mind the flashes though making myself unconsiously ready for the angles.

Some bloggers were given 49 seconds of fame which allowed individuals to talk of ther blogs and other things. The Tata Grande people were also there to promote and sell their 'grand' SUV. Well, people were given test rides and so on before the actual meet took place.

After some time, I did spot few familiar faces and I was genuinely glad. It was wonderful reconnecting with Websnacker, Srivalli and others. In both the meets, I met a blogger who maintained 49 blogs!!! Can you beat that? I was astonished at his ability to prioritise time for all his blogs.

The food was sumptuous comprising of blueberry tart, chicken roll, potato croquette, chocolate . . . (I don't remember what it was. Maybe a pudding or a cake!) and tea/coffee. I met some more bloggers over food and chatted about their blogs and interests.

The clicking and flashing of SLRs were still going on. I bet I am there in many photographer's pictures (I hope that people do trace me and send the photographs).

Like last year, we were all given free T shirts. This time it was a grey one unlike the last time which was black. And, again like last time, I walked out with a lone kid who was working at Amazon in the books section.

I came alone and went home alone, just like last time. I guess this would be the norm for me.

What lies JUST IN FRONT

2011-10-07T16:21:00.000+05:30

When sloth determines our actions and words, we do the most funniest of things. And these actions are funny not to the doer but to the observer. My friend, let's call her Z, always has the habit of picking the clothes that are right in front of her, in the cupboard. She never finds it necessary to look thoroughly for other clothes that are neatly folded inside. She just picks the one that is in front of her. This could be said of undergarments too. What is arranged in the contact position of the eye is the one that is immediately picked.

I have observed this trait when men buy vegetables and fruits. When I say men, I am of course generalising. Not all men have this trait. Well, . . .. Men tend to pick the veggies that are just in front of them unlike women who dig through the basket and look for the 'good' ones.

My students!!! How can I possibly forget them. Any assignment or any essay BANG, they go to Google and pick the very first link, which ultimately happens to be the great Wikipedia. And when that 'wikipedia' essay comes to me, I promptly mark PLAGIARISM and ask them to revise the same with an original analysis.

This habit also talks of something else. The act of complacently picking what is RIGHT THERE. If only one digs deeper, there could be the possibility of getting better things. I can understand that on certain days, one is too lazy to look for better clothes hence, selecting something which is right there in front.

Similarly, when one is not too bothered to cook food, every food item that is readily available on the table is eaten, and the person in turn, gains a lot of extra calories.

So the key word is time here. Lack of time, zest and interest paves way for picking up something which is right in front. The extra step to find out if there are better options is usually overlooked.

Well, are we grabbers of what we see in front of us or are we diggers of the unseen.

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"I feel as if I was inside a song"

2011-10-03T10:03:00.001+05:30

If you've read The Lord of the Rings, Book I, then you would remember the lines that make the title of this post. Sam utters the line to Frodo, after listening to a song. After much thought, I realised that there are some songs which leave you much with the same thought: "I feel as if I was inside a song, if you take my meaning." Some deep baritone voices have this effect on me. I can almost picture myself within the song and after the song is long over, the trance remains.

The genre of the song does not matter for this experience. The song could be a spiritual or a romantic love rendition. Whenever I hear Denver crooning You fill up my senses . . ., I always find myself inside the song, almost feeling Denver singing to me and telling Like a walk in the rain . . . The same feeling happens when Presley croons, Wise men say, only fools rush in . . .

I wonder what gives this feeling? Is it the voice of the singer or an experience or the effect of the lyrics. The song, voice and lyrics envelops the being and one is transported into a different time and environment. Sometimes film songs do this as well. Probably that is why many Indian films have songs to describe a particular emotion. When love happens, the girl and the boy are transported into a place where the scenery is lovely and both break out into a song filled with thoughts of love, longing and desire. And laymen, who fall in love, take refuge in those songs, imagining themselves instead of the actors. Like Sam, common people get "inside" the song.

I am sure that many songs also have the same effect on you. They pull you such that you find yourself inside a song. Have you felt the same way as me?

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Tell me

2011-09-29T17:02:00.002+05:30

It has been a long time since I thought of this question to ask you. Let me ask you now.

WHAT IS THE BEST COMPLIMENT THAT YOU HAVE RECEIVED?

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Teacher talk

2011-09-23T11:49:00.000+05:30

Where do I begin . . .

There are so many intricate things that make up a significant part of a teacher's life. I thought I would record some of them here.

A teacher is supposed to be impartial and give equal status to all her/his students. I agree. But I also cannot disagree that there is this one student whom the teacher likes. The reasons may be varied - a helpful attitude, an ever-present dimpled smile, a thoughtful mind and many more. But the catch is that the teacher should never single out that student. Afterall, the teacher is someone who respects every student for what he or she is. Therefore that special student brings a smile to the teacher but is never singled out for any sort of preference.

Some students' attitude and behaviour is very similar to the teacher in many aspects. This kindred behaviour brings an enthusiasm to the teacher but the teacher has to supress those feelings and go on.

Certain students are cleverer than the teacher in terms of analytical thinking. Eventhough, the teacher might not admit that in the class, the teacher is quite in awe of that particular student. The teacher should also be able to maintain the levels of appreciation, in case the other students might fell inadequete.

Laziness and refusal to work can be tolerated to a certain extent but if that is the usual mode, then I just cannot help but be highly sarcastic and irritable. Sometimes it is difficult to maintain a demeanour which oozes patience, kindness and positivity.

I am a graphical person, which is translated as I can imagine doing gory things to students sometimes when they tend to rattle my nerves. Let me demonstrate this trait: If a student gives absolutely out-of-the world stupid answers, I would like to lift that student (in my mind, of course) physically and throw him/her outside the window. When the student sits still inspite of my 'performance' in class, I would definitely feel like shaking that student hard in such a way that I could hear his/her bones rattle. Well, obviously I cannot do such things but sometimes I do tend to act that out much to the amusement of my students.

It is interesting to observe students when they are in love. The student sometimes cannot balance his thoughts. At those times, the teacher admires the state of the student but also knows that being in that state forever is not advisable, hence . . .

Do you feel the same? Do you have any other similar feelings/instances to share with us?

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Pray, keep me away from china and white

2011-09-17T17:26:00.001+05:30

I can spare a passing momentary appreciation for delicate cystals and china but possessing them is something I cannot imagine. While I could even manage to drool over the delicate figurines of birds, angels and shepherd boys for five seconds, I quickly move away for fear of breaking them. Well, I have never had buttery hands which drop things but when I see swarovski crystal figures, I run. I cannot imagine myself holding those glassy figures or letting them adorn my house. They just demand too much care and soft handling. One has to constantly be wary of the fact that if there is a slip of the fingers then the precious figurine will become smithereens. So, I stay away from such objects that require extreme care which again requires patience. Hence the preference of wood for jewellery and art. Wood is more earthy, easy to handle and does not seem delicate such that even a slight slip would yield a crack on to it.

Similar to the delicate crystals, is the colour white. Though it is deemed for its purity and lack of blemishness, I am slightly apprehensive when I pick that colour for a dress, table cloth or any other thing. When I don a white outfit, I am very conscious that I should not spill anything or I should not sit in a place which has even a small iota of dirt. This niggling feeling does not allow me to enjoy the present. If I take coffee, instead of savouring the beverage, I think: "My white should be careful. If coffee spills, then it will leave a stain." Even if I let go of my 'care-taking' for a few seconds (which does not happen), I will return to the old thoughts of staining my white dress.

Sometimes I console myself saying: "When one has had heart breaks, why worry about breaking pretty dolls." But that thought is not helpful. While broken hearts are not tangible, broken china and crystals are.This argument can be extended to whites as well. People take great care in preserving their whites and in the process turn the material into some sort of a prized possession. Well, if one has maids to take care of every single chore, then whites wouldn't pose much of threat, I reckon.

Black is lovely: no tension, no ironing and no conscious thoughts of spilling liquids that stain. In fact, it so happens that when I am wearing black, I don't ever spill anything. Without being conscious, I carry it off quite well. And, I look good in black as well :)

Well, blame the whites and the chinas and swarovski crystals. They rob one's peace of mind.

So, learned readers, as always, I am awaiting your two bits on this topic. I bet you like black better than white.

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Driving without being in the driver's seat

2011-09-14T15:21:00.001+05:30

Please keep in mind that this post is not about the metaphorial driver's seat but the real one. I am quite an aggravating passenger if you are a slightly rash driver. Sitting inside the car (with all the doors locked and the glasses raised), I can bend if I see a truck arriving at a safe distance. In spite of not being at the wheel, I act almost as if I am driving and start panicking. Worse, I start alarming the driver and make grunting noises as if I am instructing her/him to drive carefully.

It always seems easy to not be in control and act as if the controls are at my mercy. This happens even while watching a game on telly. Some people get quite agitated and start saying, "If only I was there, I would have . . ." While I bend and make noises sitting in the seat next to the driver's, I tend to forget that I AM NOT IN THE CONTROLS.

Similarly in life, we enjoy giving directions to people in their lives and advice them how to live and conduct their lives. Though it seems easy to act and shout while being the observer, the real test arrives when one is in the driver's seat.

While the cricket player playing elsewhere cannot hear the moans and groans of the audience sitting thousands of miles away, the driver sitting next to you while driving gets quite bugged when he/she hears the exaggerated sounds from the passenger.

Sometimes it is better to keep the mouth shut. It saves a lot of energy and trouble. I need to remind myself that I should be a cool passenger sitting next to a confident driver.

So, what kind of a passenger are you?

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SHIT!!! Yes, you read it right

2011-09-12T10:52:00.000+05:30

A month ago, our University inaugurated its first Film Club named 24. We invited director R. P. Amudhan and also screened three of his films, out of which one was titled SHIT. And, in case you are thinking of the swear word, please change gear as the film is about the literal shit. The film carried a social message on manual scavengers in a place called Madurai in Southern India. The camera follows a woman, Mariamma, who cleans the shit of people in a street adjacent to a temple in Madurai. In a country where people don't even use the left hand for any thing except for cleaning shit, here was this woman whose occupation was only cleaning shit with both her hands. In spite of herself feeling disgusted, she carried on the job as it was her source of income. A country which is seen as a developing one still has pockets as these which speak of parallel histories, a far cry from the "developing" status quo.

I must admit that I could not bring myself to watch the film closely. I was appalled, disturbed and felt disgusted seeing the visuals in the film. The director had used close-ups and the camera followed the lady as she was cleaning shit. The film was in complete realistic mode and believe me, there was no trace of any neo-realistic mode. I think you can imagine what was shown on the screen. Shit, in its raw form, could not be seen by me. This documentary brought several questions to me: Does art create a nauseous feeling? Can art be so brutal on my senses (esp. the visual)? Why couldn't I watch the documentary, after all, it's human waste?

Later, in the discussion, the film-maker revealed that one of his objectives in making the film was to disturb the viewer, and he did succeed.

Another film by the director was on the happenings at a crematorium which showed dead bodies being buried and cremated. While the images of dead bodies did not create any nauseous feeling within me, shit did. I thought that I am quite comfortable with death rather than shit!!! And, many like me, agreed that death was more aesthetically pleasant.

I'm not one for scatology, as art or anything else. But I must say that when I saw the woman manual scavenger cleaning up after everyone had finished their business, made me wonder about my disgust. I am still left confused and disturbed.

I am not providing the link or any material on the documentary SHIT but if you are interested, you could google the name of the documentary and watch the trailer. A complete version of the film is not available on the internet.

I would like to know what is art to you? Would you be fine in watching literal shit on screen and off screen? Maybe you could tell me.

Image: Internet

Tell me what you think

2011-09-06T15:12:00.004+05:30

Squeezing the creative juices but forgetting the filter

2011-08-28T12:58:00.000+05:30

Writing blog posts has somehow become quite addictive. I see it as a means to squeeze my mind and force the thoughts to spill over as posts. But I come to realize that this exercise sometimes takes a toll on me. I find myself questioning the minutest things so that I come up with a curious post. There are days when the post presents itself to me that I cannot but sit and have to record them down. But sometimes these posts don’t arrive and knock at my door. On days when the posts don’t arrive, I am left with an urge to write but cannot do so as I find nothing interesting to me. On days like that, I am left staring at almost every plausible thing and wondering if ‘this’ could be the victim for my post.

Many writing gurus always remark, “Write something every day.” But what does one do when one cannot write anything. It is during those dry spells that I try to squeeze and extract the remains from something which has already been squeezed dry. Since there is nothing much to squeeze, the filter is discarded. As a result of the discarded filter, the posts don’t seem satisfying.

Blogging saved me from a terrible patch in life (when I started out) and I’m glad that it is a worthwhile addiction but I also cannot disagree that everything has to be prioritized. Well, well, don’t get ideas that I’m taking a break or quitting blogging. This is a frank declaration of a passionate blogger.

Or perhaps, I forgot the filter when I wrote this post :)

What say?

Image: Internet

Locked away memories

2011-08-24T15:16:00.000+05:30

I wish I could slot types of memories in my mind/heart and have a folder for each set. Each folder will be labeled according to the kind of memories. Of course, some may overlap but that is okay, it cannot be helped otherwise. One folder would be titled ‘school’ where I will store all the memories that were part of my schooling years: friends, loves, teachers, exams and others. Another folder would be titled ‘betrayals’ where stories of lost loves would be carefully arranged. The folder, of course would slightly overlap the one titled ‘school.’

Some folders would last the entire lifetime while certain folders would require deletion as they interfere with the present. The past runs continuum in the present but there is also a need to gradually erase the volatile memories which have the ability to cause hazards in the present.

Some folders would be shared with friends, parents, children, teachers and certain others, while some folders will have a password which would prevent anyone from looking into the contents. Some folders need updating while certain others are preserved.

Memory is dynamic which is constantly changing. There are some memories of places which are better preserved in the memory alone. The place in the memory might be completely different from the present place and therefore it is better to leave the memory and the place alone.

Songs form a greater space in every folder. I will store songs from each period of my life and connect the same with certain incidents in my life. For example, the song “My heart will go on,” will remind me of my under graduation, where I bunked class to see the movie “Titanic.” I will remember that I disliked Leonardo DiCaprio and adored Kate Winslet. But in the present, I have grown to like and admire the acting skills of DiCaprio.

Sometimes I will rummage through the folders to exact that bit of memory which made me happy or sometimes I will crave for that smell which will lead me to a particular memory.

I will think of a certain time when the song “Peaceful Easy Feeling” by Eagles was playing but I wasn’t listening to the song but now when I listen to that song, I think of that ‘certain time’ with melancholy.

The urge to delete the folder named MEMORIES is strong at times but I am also aware that however I try to erase that folder, it will always remain in the system.

Image: Internet

LaBels limit me but save time!

2011-08-17T17:08:00.000+05:30

Sometimes for want of a better word and saving time and energy, we resort to already existing labels. In the process of using a particular label frequently, we deny ourselves the opportunity to think beyond that particular word. Conveniently we slot people, objects, places and other things. Therefore it requires a feminist to point out and condemn labels that define women, are sexist. If not for them, we could not have realized that we are slotting women into a particular category.

Just take a look around you and you find that there are labels for almost everything. It is these labels that slowly make way for prejudices and stereotypes. Spaces have to be either urban or rural/country side. But most of the times we use labels just because we can’t think of any other word. Most of the times, these labels are also historical and sociological. Things are simplified for historians and sociologists if groups of people are slotted into a particular label.

In academics, one can observe this trait predominantly. If an individual gets slotted into a particular label, then that one remains with him/her throughout the career span. Even if the individual has changed loyalties and prescribes to another, the tag is sure to follow. It is therefore quite difficult to remain in the academic circle and not be labelled. These labels can sometimes be the area of an individual’s research. For example, if someone is passionate about the theory of post colonialism, then he/she is labeled a poco (short form for postcolonialist). Unwittingly, one gets pulled into the vortex of labels.

Labels can be limiting and suffocating. I am trying to think an alternate to this. I cannot seem to find any. Perhaps, you could suggest something. I would like to read what you have to say on this.

Image: Internet

Stars in my bedroom

2011-08-13T13:17:00.000+05:30

The place where we are presently living cannot be characterized as urban or rural; it is somewhere between the two and could be called semi-rural and urban. Ah, sometimes these labels limit us from categorizing. Well, I hope you agree that everything cannot be slotted into labels. I am digressing from my topic, so let me get back into the groove.

Sometimes when sleep plays truant, I lay awake and wonder. It is at those times, that my eyes are fixed to the tiny sparks of light that flit across my room. The dark room gains a glow from these tiny fire flies which have somehow wandered into my room through the open window. Sometimes, I see the light through the mirror and I must tell you that the reflection of the fire fly’s light in the mirror makes a lovely sight.

You should know that fire flies don’t dwell in urban spaces. They are found only in the country side as there are not many lights there. Perhaps the presence of many lights in the urban and semi-urban places has rendered our eyes blind to the luminous fire flies.

The weaver-bird (Ploceus philippinus) which weaves its nest beautifully supposedly catches these fire flies to light its nest. Many villages have an abundance of these nests hanging from trees and sway gracefully in the direction of the breeze. One could spend a lifetime looking at those nests swaying back and forth. I am yet to see a nest in the dark. I am waiting to see that spectacle.

These flies spread light and warmth, niggling my senses and thoughts when I find that sleep has betrayed me. Looking at those stars that twinkle in my room, I slowly fall asleep and dream of weaver birds and their glowing nests.

Have you seen fire flies/ weaver bird’s nests? Does your living space bring you joy?

Image 1: Internet
Image 2: Internet

No No No

2011-08-06T19:47:00.000+05:30

Now I know how wrong I was to judge Amy Winehouse's music by looking at her personhood. I had always associated her music to be dark, meaningless and that of just another dope singer on the block. Looking at her bee-hive hairstyle and rehab stories, I couldn't make myself think that she could produce good music. All the while, I had made these judgments without having listened to her music. The smallness of my personhood comes through examples as these.

After her untimely death, there were many reviews which chose to focus only on the '27 Club' and not her soulful music or her voice. But there was one review which piqued my interest towards Winehouse. I read that obituary quite carefully and the writer, though mentioned the 27 Club, did not choose to make that his sole point of reference to Winehouse. The way he described her voice and range, could have forced anyone to go and listen to her albums. I don't know whether others did that but I precisely did that: listening to different songs by Winehouse. I started with Rehab, which faintly reminded me of CCR's "Someone told me long ago/There's a calm before the storm,/I know" from the song Have you ever seen the rain?. I liked the feel of Winehouse's Rehab. I listened to all of her songs that were on You tube and boy, here was a fan of Winehouse's voice.

Well, I don't much listen to songs by girls/women, as they are mostly mushy love songs with a voice that drips honey and sweetness. Of course, there are some exceptions to this and Winehouse was one who did not have a stereotypical voice (wiki tells me that she possesses deep contralto vocals). Now I feel sorry that the world lost someone as her at so young a age. If she was alive, there would have been many soulful songs that would fill the idle hours of many souls like me.

I should leave this judging business, otherwise I will lose out on many things. What say?

Image: Internet

I hear footsteps and know that it is you

2011-08-02T15:09:00.000+05:30

This has almost become a passionate obsession. I believe that I had this trait in me but did not notice that it has become habitual and compulsive. I had to guess the person from the footsteps I hear in the corridor. It so happens that one does something for a lark before one realizes that that which was done for a lark has almost become a part of the daily routine.

Working on the computer, I am engrossed in something but almost as a reflex, my ears pick up a sound that is at a distance: footsteps. I start guessing. Maybe it could be SG or PR. As the footsteps come closer, I know who it is. It is like a challenge between my two minds. The two minds debate and finally one wins. The process gives me immense joy. If my guess is correct, I get quite ecstatic. But all this involves only me. Sometimes I do whisper to the person sitting next to me that X or Y is coming. Unwittingly, the person sitting beside gets involved in the anticipation of matching the footsteps to the person. If I win, I look at the individual beside with a look that proudly exclaims, “I told you, didn’t I? I am always right.” Guessing a person by the footsteps is not a great feat but I consider it something to be proud of as not many are tuned to identifying footsteps. How small things come to mean so much is something that has never ceased to amaze me. Even while I type this post, my ears hear the footsteps and try to match them to the person.

Now, I hasten to add that I cannot recognize every footstep. I have to know the person before I could identify the footsteps. It is strange how different people walk, thereby bringing a distinct sound to their footsteps. Even barefoot walk has a particular sound which can be identified.

Weird obsessions and habits! What is yours? Counting, perhaps or is it adding the numbers of a vehicle’s registration. I do them as well!

Image: Internet

Why the word ‘simple’ baffles me everytime I hear it

2011-07-27T15:14:00.000+05:30

Usually while describing a learned professor, the word which is oft used is ‘simple.’ Sentences like, “He is quite brilliant but very simple,” is something which I hear quite a bit. What exactly does this word mean? Simple, I see, is used in different contexts. For example, “Today I have cooked a simple meal,” “My thoughts are always simple,” “They are very rich, but quite simple,” She has a way of dressing very simple;” I am a simple person with not many ambitions.” Mind boggling, isn’t it? This word has almost seeped into many contexts.

In the context of food, it could mean a preparation without many spices and that which requires less cooking time; in academics, it could mean that in spite of having qualifications which run up to two lines, the individual is not proud; in terms of societal standing, it could mean that in spite of having abundance of wealth, the people live lives devoid of pomp and glory. Well, . . . I have even read blog posts which begin with, “Today’s post is a simple one.”

Now I have a problem with this usage. Take this context, for example: if a woman has no wealth, but tries to act rich by the way she dresses and talks, she is spurned by many but if people who are rich don’t display their wealth, they are called ‘simple.’ How does one digest that? Does simplicity reveal itself only through the exterior? Just because one does not dress extravagantly or uses less spice, does the individual/object become simple? It has to be something more that, I reckon.

By using the word ‘simple,’ does one categorise people, food, film, character, etc.? Can one word be used to signify different traits? Are we lazy to exploit the other words in the English language and therefore use a single word to describe heterogeneous contexts?

My professor always says: “There are no synonyms in any language. Every word has its own context and cannot be replaced by another.” I think he is right. What do you think?

Image: Internet

If you like it then you can take it

2011-07-22T10:59:00.000+05:30

The shades of gray are deeper in certain spots of everyday life. Many times I tend to admire something in a friend's or relative's house. My comment goes something like this: "This bangle looks beautiful." Immediately the response would be: "Please take it." Well, when one admires something, it does not essentially boil down to possession and if I like something, it does not mean that I want it for myself. This kind of situation presents itself to me on many occasions.

The action following my comment of 'liking' is usually a gesture of love and affection. It also means that if I say that I like something, it is an indication that I would also like to possess the same. But the funniest part is that people are quite generous when it comes to small objects such as pens, key-holders, bangles, etc. but not bigger objects such as furniture, computer, dining table, etc. I reckon that it is quite easy to be a giver when it comes to insignificant things but others, no way.

I could extend this topic to a slightly different tangent: food. When I express that I like the taste of a particular dish, it does not mean that I would eat a lot of that dish. Impossible. This situation happens most of the time with me. The moment I make the mistake of saying: "Tasty curry," I can be sure of the hostess serving me extra helpings of the 'curry.' An expression of appreciation does not always mean that I want more. If I feel like having more of that dish, I would definitely do so.

Someone somewhere would have tweaked the course of civilisation by expressing appreciation towards something that was needed by that individual and bang, it has been flowing steadily through our culture.

Well, what do you think of this.

Image: Internet

Possessive of experience

2011-07-15T14:41:00.000+05:30

Humans are complex beings and sometimes this complexity manifests in the most unexpected moments. When one imagines the personality of oneself, the rough edges are carefully glossed over when in a joyful mood. But when reflection gets deeper, the rough edges glare and threaten to disturb the still surface of serenity. This is precisely what happened to me recently. A friend shared an experience and it so happened that that incident resembled an experience of mine. I could not partake in my friend's experience as I suddenly wanted to savour my experience and shield it. How could my friend experience the same one as mine. I was overwhelmed and wanted to ask my friend to stop. I know that this is not a very good thing to do but sometimes it does happen.

I found this behaviour of mine rather strange. One can become possessive of objects and individuals but experience. Possessiveness of any kind is not quite healthy and it goes hand-in-hand with jealousy. And jealousy is not a virtue! But trying to be possessive of one's experience is a complete surprise.

When I began writing this post, I found the human being as a rather complex creature but now I alter my perception to saying that there are diverse facets to a human being, out of which some seem complex. I am glad to see another dimension of the personality.

How about being possessive of experience? Are you? I don't think so.

Discovering along the journey . . .

Image: Internet

What do you think?

2011-07-12T13:52:00.000+05:30

The last post titled, "Thoughts on the words 'missing home,'" saw some interesting insights on home and place. Not long ago, I had asked a question in one of my posts. The question was: What is home to you? The post provided many insights on home and similar thoughts.

On that note, I would like to pose another question for you to ponder and answer:

CAN THE WHOLE WORLD BE SEEN AS HOME OR IS HOME A SPECIFIC PLACE?

Image: Internet

Thoughts on the words 'missing home'

2011-07-01T18:27:00.000+05:30

While sojourning in Kerala, several things made me miss home. The newspaper was one such thing. But it must be noted that while in Chennai (which is home), I don't crave for the newspaper. This attribute made me reflect. The fact that in Kerala, my husband's home, subscribed only to the Malayalam newspaper made the difference. In Chennai, just seeing the English newspaper was a comfort factor. The comfort was that I could read the paper any time I wanted to and that it was in a language that I could follow, whereas in Kerala, the script of the newspaper and the foreign language gave a different feeling. Just a look at the newspaper gave a flash of home and the treat of reading the newspaper at home, made me think of home rather fondly. I wouldn't call this factor as 'missing home,' but I cannot get closer than that.

I write here especially about the newspaper as I missed reading the paper but the language that made me miss home was English, which is not my tongue. It is quite strange that despite the fact that English is foreign but that language made me miss home is quite amusing. Paradox, isn't it? Now gradually I begin to wonder whether the post is on 'missing home' or on paradoxes?

Another aspect were the smells. I missed the smell of home and there was no specific smell which I could think of but I guess every home has its own smell. Do you get what I mean? But those were the initial "missings." After that I got used to the new font (Malayalam) and smells. Humans are quite adaptive, aren't they.

And now . . . I miss the smell of Kerala home. Life goes on.

Image: Internet

"Can I sit by the window, please?"

2011-06-26T11:49:00.000+05:30

I have always liked sitting by the window whenever I travel, be it the car, bus, ship or air-plane. This attribute which was easily granted when I was a kid, gradually fades as age advances. It so happens that when one is an adult, one is expected to give up the window seat for a kid in the family. I find this quite annoying. I liked sitting by the window when I was a kid and I still do.

Whenever a child (while on a trip) is crying or throwing tantrums, the first pacifying act would be to take the child to the nearest window. If all the window seats are occupied by other children, the window seat that is occupied by an adult (in most cases, me) is politely demanded. How I dread those demands? As one grows older, one is expected to always let go even if the individual holds a passion for the same.

All adults invariably accept to let go when one is asked to. I wonder how this change happens. Are adults people with no preferences? This sacrificial attitude of adults is something I cannot come into terms with. While children are given whatever they prefer, adults are supposed to be passive when it comes to express their likes and dislikes. This is more common with the womenfolk, who always let go (for their husbands, children, elders . . . the list is long). Sometimes the chicken thigh (another preference of mine is always given to a smiling kid who makes it clear that she/he can eat nothing else).

The cycle goes on when that demanding child grows up and lets go for another child. I wonder what happens to preferences as one grows old. That window seat is always my preference and somehow I try to get it (carefully negotiating the seat from children).

Do you like the window seat, in particular or are you a no-fuss person who can sit anywhere? Sometimes small things like a window-seat gives moments of happiness and joy. It almost seems like watching the world go by while one is sitting cocooned in another world.

Image: Internet

Sojourning in god's own country and other things

2011-06-22T18:43:00.000+05:30

It has been a long time since I ventured here. Among the many things that I did during this long break, one was getting married. Getting married has landed me for the time being in a state in South India known as Kerala, which is called as "God's own country." The slogan that has been used by almost everyone to describe this state is not without reason. The whole state seems to be one grand village such that one cannot actually draw a boundary between the rural and the urban. Covered with coconut trees and rubber plantations, this place is a perfect getaway for the urban citizen. I am not here to describe the state of Kerala. Google can do that for you. I am here to describe my sojourn in the place.

Getting married also gives one a passport to many luncheons and dinners hosted by kind relatives. Since I am relatively new to the place, I am given many smiles accompanied by hugs and wet kisses. I'm not complaining. Getting married in India is after all marrying large families. A repetition of food items has now become my greatest nightmare.

The abundance of green cover and sweet water makes the place a sought after one by tourists. The houses are palatial with lovely wood furniture and door frames but they are empty of people. The houses have spaces but the sound of chatter is not there as the children and grand children are away in foreign shores. They come down once a year. Most of the houses we visited had only aged parents with children living ten thousand miles away.

A thousand thoughts mated and spawned a trillion blogposts in the crevices of my mind. I did not write them down as I believe that the thoughts which remain will be written as a post. Since the place was new, my mind was teeming with ideas and observations. I hope to share some of them here in the forthcoming days.

All said and done, I MISSED interacting with you. I should have written a note of absence but I did not. My apologies. I look forward to catching up with your recent posts and bang! commenting also shall begin. Hope you have been well and happy.

Joy always :)

Image: Internet

The unique language and world of bloggers

2011-05-20T19:57:00.000+05:30

Listening me talk the other day, my non-blogger friend was just amazed with disbelief. What?!?!? Your blogger friend's birthday and to say that you haven't even met him/her. Well, all I could do was give my sweetest smile and say: "You won't understand, until you're blogging." Well, today there seems to be a divide between bloggers and non-bloggers. We bloggers have created a quasi-world where our language is filled with blogs, bloggers, posts, facebook groups, etc., which the non-blogging world views with part amusement and part disbelief. The world of bloggers and blogs can be comprehended only by those who either are bloggers or sympathetic towards blogging.

The steady growth of this blogging community is almost like the real community and despite the fact that most of us haven't met or even talked, the friendship quotient is mutual and agreeable. Sharing of joys, anger, frustrations, paranoia and other feelings comes without any iota of second thought. The comfort zone from the virtual to the real world is also something that a non-blogger cannot understand. When I told my friend that one of my blogger friends called me on my birthday and we ended up chatting for one hour (which is 1 a. m. in the morning), drew loaded stares.

Hearing my tales of blogging and bloggers who are my friends, my non-blogging friend has come to terms with the fact that this is indeed a fantastic relationship where without having seen and talked to, the comfort levels are quite relaxed and happy. Blogging also has the unique power to bring in people from various parts of the world and when they get into contact, it is not them alone but also their country, culture, family and unique tales.

Leaving out one or two untoward incidents, this world has enabled me to blossom in many hitherto unknown aspects of myself. I am indebted to all my blogger buddies. You rock my world!

Now this is a rather heartfelt post which I'm sure many will also share. Do you feel the same about blogging and having blogger friends?

Image: Internet

Wondering about names for the nth time

2011-05-16T12:18:00.000+05:30

Do you know the famous poet, activist and diplomat Neftalí Ricardo Reyes Basoalto? Chances are that you might not know him. The name does not ring a bell. Do you know Pablo Neruda? Well, ofcourse. Neftalí Ricardo Reyes Basoalto was Pablo Neruda. The name was chosen Pablo (since it was a simple name and also belonged to Picasso) and Neruda (after the famous Czech writer Jan Neruda). Well, Pablo Neruda chose his own name!

Long time ago when I was growing up and also around the time I was revelling in my teens, names were carefully chosen by parents. Apart from the whole identity cliches, there are also other tags that have become synonymous with names. The names were believed to carve out destinies and mould an individual. If parents wanted their children to have leadership qualities, the chose names such as Alexander or Napoleon and if they wanted their children to become scientists, names such as Issac/Kepler or Radhakrishnan were chosen. There was a belief that the names will determine the character of the individual in concern. There were small bits of stories attached to names. Almost everyone knew the meanings behind their names and thus were able to rattle off name-histories without batting an eyelid. And above all people loved listening to personal histories behind names.

But sadly, or perhaps for the better, the whole concept of name-history is slowly being wiped off. Gen-X is not quite aware of the meaning of their names. Some of the names sound quite bizarre and almost downright incredulous (like the one in the image). The question: "Your name sounds nice, what does it mean?" draws blank looks as if I had asked them something completely stupid or senseless. Well, I might be a bit of a romantic when I talk of the past and the attitudes of the past but you must agree with me that name-histories are quite interesting.

Well, reader are you happy with your name or have you chosen to change it like Neftalí Ricardo Reyes Basoalto did? Do you know the meaning/history behind your name?

Image: Internet

Other NAME posts by me:

1. Dropping names and playing wise

2. Pausing to hear your stories

3. Mumbo jumbo of changing names

4. Roommate

5. Mamma calls me Joe

6. The big hype over retaining the maiden name or taking the husband's name after marriage

Give an inch and they'll happily take a yard! Phew!

2011-05-11T20:39:00.000+05:30

These people are quite ubiquitious, especially at homes! You might also have come across these kind of people. They are present everywhere. Sometimes when one is browsing pictures in the camera, a particular picture catches your attention and you are unable to hide your enthusiasm. You call out to the immediate person next to you: "Look at this picture. Lovely, isn't it?" The person next to you also cannot hide the curiosity and glances at the picture. Well, you wait for the camera mobile to be returned. But No. The person flips through the next picture and the next. You start getting a bit impatient. "I gave the mobile so that you can see that particular picture, not everything." A sheepish smile but the mobile is still not returned.

This happens with newspapers as well. You innocently give the paper to the person sitting next to you to read one tiny tid-bit of news that is quite funny/amusing or relevant. The person not only reads that particular news item but takes the privelege of reading other news items as well. Then you think: "I should not have given the paper." Too late.

Food! It happens all the time. An innocent request: "Can I take a bite?" Oh yes, you can. You realise later that one bite is nearly half of the entire food item. Icecreams, burgers, fruit juices are the usual suspects.

Some people just don't do what is expected of them. They have to walk that extra mile in grabbing a yard. Give them an inch and they will happily usurp a yard. Well, the ways of the world!

Do you grab a yard when allowed only an inch? I do sometimes (only sometimes, not always). Human foibles, afterall.

Image: Internet

When twin emotions accost you back-to-back

2011-05-09T12:46:00.000+05:30

Sometimes it so happens that two extreme emotions seize you the very same day making you wonder whether happiness or sorrow should be the signing off emotion. I find this very strange. Sometimes a friend would call up in an otherwise very happy day and give some news which would unsettle you. The news would be a harbinger of guilt as you find that rejoicing has to momentarily pause before the friend is consoled. Crossroads, I say.

Many a times I have seen friends go through this phase and so have I. After the twin news, the mind just weighs and one settles down with an emotionless state and wonders about both the different emotions which occurred back to back.

I find that when one is accosted like that, the best way is to let go of any strong feeling that might lead to heaviness; Heaviness of being happy when another friend is in a not-so-happy state of mind.

I guess exposure to media has made us immune in some way as we are faced with different kinds of news items that anger, surprise, hurt and make us happy. I wonder about kids. They seem to be so very oblivious of emotions, that they can switch over quite easily.

Reader, what is best when the situation is such that twin emotions accost you back-to-back? Just BE or sway?

Image: Internet

Easy in the head but in reality . . . don't ask

2011-05-04T11:18:00.000+05:30

Have you ever noticed how easily one can rise the pitch of our voices in the head but in reality it is absolutely next to impossible. Many a times, I have to admit that I have been naive enough to get the notion that if it is easy in the head, it can be done easily. And boy, how wrong was I! I imagine singing perfectly well in soprano while in reality I am an alto. In my head, I reach the high pitch without any strain and voila, in reality, I completely mess it all up. I am and will be an alto, I reckon.

This happens even with a picture of how the food will appear before it is cooked. I try to imagine a taste and appearance based on my head's preconceived notion but in reality the taste will be way different from what I had thought it would be. Probably, I guess this is the main reason that few studies conducted on romantic relationships, some months ago, proved. Women (maybe men too) imagine that their love life will be exactly like those shown on romantic movies but find that reality is a different ball-game altogether.

While it is easy to imagine and arrive at a picture perfect recipe/tune or any such thing, the real comes as a surprise. But I learnt my lesson quite some time ago and so I don't much trust my head's picture. I have to see it and then think: I am not so bad, after all.

So, does your mind also give you tantalising pictures that sometimes are different from the real?

Image: Internet

The Author's work OR his/her life

2011-05-02T11:02:00.000+05:30

Now this is an old debate. I am only rekindling this topic as I find that it constantly niggles me.

Many times we tend to read an author for the wonderful world she/he creates and along with their usage of words, ideas, expressions also colour our perceptions. But what happens when we read something in the tabloids about the personal life of that particular author? Do we like the work less or could we read the remaining works of that author without allowing the tabloids to influence our judgment?

These thoughts started stirring my mind when the issue of golfer Tiger Woods and author/publisher David Davidar started filling the pages of the newspapers. I enjoyed the game of Woods and reading a novel by Davidar. I still like them for their works. But when news of their various dalliances hit the stands, I was a bit perturbed. I wonder why? I never knew them personally nor did bother to know about their lives before reading their books but why do I feel a bit unsettled when the papers reported on them? Probably reading their works, I have tuned myself to think that they are as wonderful as the yarn they spin.

Presently I am reading a book called Bookless in Baghdad by Shashi Tharoor, the charming politician and prolific author and journalist. The book in concern is a collection of Tharoor's essays about reading, writing, writers and other interesting aspects of life and literature. Reading the book, I am growing to like the man and his candid style of writing but at the back of my mind I can't stop thinking of his recent marriage (his third) to a Dubai socialite. I brush the thought aside and justify that the personal is something that I should not be concerned with when I am absorbed in his writing. But it seems a tad difficult to separate.

This brings me to the all too cliched saying, "No one is perfect" but as public figures, do people expect their lives to be exemplary? Does the whole package matter: the works as well as the personal life? Can people not see Tiger Woods just for his golf and not for his personal life? Why do we become so involved? Why is the morality within us always itch when we read of the dalliances of authors and sports persons we admire and cherish?

Well, I suppose I will still read Davidar's works and watch Woods' game but I also cannot forget that they 'did' something that was not taken kindly by most of the people.

Now I want to know what you think of this topic? Personal Life? Work? Talent?

The last farewell - Meanderings on the Japanese film "Departures"

2011-04-28T19:45:00.000+05:30

Staying at home, I am quite privileged to watch many wonderful movies of different cultures in World Movies channel. Two days ago, as I was accidentally changing channels, my hand paused when I saw a very solemn scene on World Movies. It was a scene from a Japanese film titled Departures. I must say that I enjoy watching movies from China, Japan and Korea. They are slow, calming and the music is something that long remains after the film is over. The films are always subtle and gentle. Well, that is for another post. Now coming back to Departures.

The protagonist is a cellist and after losing his job becomes a professional in assisting departures (death). The customs and rituals associated with death in the Japanese culture were so very solemn and graceful that death did not seem morbid at all. The protagonist's work was to clean, dress and make the body presentable. He does his work very well and as he goes about the process, he learns to love his job.

Death in various cultures has never ceased to interest me. This was the first time I was seeing the Japanese rituals of the dead. The respect given to the lifeless body is something quite touching. Perhaps the belief that death is not an end but only a passage to another life is demonstrated through the solemn rituals and ceremonies.

I don't know whether there really exist professionals who assist death in Japan. But if there are, I would like to talk to them and ask many questions.

What are your thoughts on movies of different cultures and professionals in assisting departures?

Are there any special rituals for death in your part of the world?

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Amazed by words over and over

2011-04-26T15:12:00.000+05:30

Recently after a talk by an eminent personality, my Professor commented: A fine example of logorrhea. My ears stood up on hearing this absolutely new word which rhymed with diarrhoea. The word is quite novel to me, even my computer's word document fails to recognise it (It thinks I have confused the spelling of gonorrhea).

The meaning can be roughly translated as a diarrhoea of words. Well, the word means excessive use of words and diarrhoea is excessive (you know what).

Words marvel me and I can ceased to be amazed by them.

Logorrhea, anyone?

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Settling Down . . . whatever that means

2011-04-24T19:43:00.000+05:30

In India, maybe elsewhere in the world as well, the two words settling down are quite frequently heard when one reaches the age of 20+. People often throw up the question When are you planning to settle down? The question actually means When are you getting married? But it is quite unsettling that the phrase settle down refers to getting married. An individual's whole life takes on a different turn when he/she gets married but that is referred to as settling down. And settling down is not the remotest phrase to refer to marriage. Well, . . .

But I found that the phrase settle down does not refer to getting married alone. It could refer to getting a job after studies or getting children after marriage. But whatever those two words signify, settling down does not happen unless one feels that life is enough.

Another issue that constantly niggles me is the question: Settling down after what? Does it signify settling down after boisterous youth which has been spent in wanton and frivolousness? If that is so, then it cannot be homogeneously used for every individual. But many people (even those in the "young" bracket) choose to ask the question almost as if it is something quite natural to ask.

But contrary to what I have mentioned in the first line, the phrase sometimes is used while speaking to people who have just gotten their children married: Now you can peacefully settle down, as your children are married. In this case, does it mean that the only impediment to settling down was the marriage of the children? Well, not necessarily. But I reckon that the words settle down refers to a state of zero-worry and tension. It points out to the fact that marriage, children, a home and other things make sure that the individual is in a position where he/she can rest and sit back.

Whatever said and done, I think that one cannot settle down in life as life requires us to be in action while also being restful and calm. So, marriage, secure job and other things are part of life and not something which causes an individual to settle down.

Well, what do you have to say on settling down in life?

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Life sans phone, baths, bed, and many other things

2011-04-21T14:34:00.000+05:30

I missed being here and interacting with all of you. Chicken pox, a viral infection, cut me off from my usual activities and confined me. By force, I had to create a world wherein I dwelt with my thoughts and more thoughts. Since computer, and other gadgets could potentially cause a strain on me, I was kept away from all of them. For the first time in my adult life I experienced a different kind of living sans baths, mattress, spicy food and other things. But I must admit that being with my head for company was not always welcome.

But there were many interesting things that happened. Chicken pox, in these parts of southern India, is usually viewed as possession by a goddess known as Mariamman. People here believe that she has caused the pustules and therefore must be treated well. The person who helps us in our household chores was very reverent towards me. I found that a bit stifling. People are advised not even to look into the face of the person who has contacted chicken pox. While there were many instructions for me, I would like to narrate some of the quirky ones: no brooms, footwear, mirrors and combs are to be allowed in the room where I was quarantined. I was warned not to see the mirror as it would induce fear within me about the way I look. This would eventually anger the goddess. The goddess detests any form of cleanliness and so cleaning agents like water and broom were not allowed anywhere near me. I was only allowed to keep a bottle of water for drinking.

Eventhough these practices seem obscure in today's world, I could see some sense in them. It is also strange given the different religious sects we belong to, one has a combination of beliefs that one chooses to take and discard. Another person who frequents our house, though is a Roman Catholic, believes in the rituals and respect that shrouds the viral infection, chicken pox. Inspite of her being a strong practitioner of Catholicism, she had a list of do's and don't's for my mother, when she knew that I was infected with chicken pox.

Well, I also managed to pick up a book which had been lying for a long time in my book-shelf, Mark Tully's India in Slow Motion, which talks of the corruption that exists everywhere in India, thus causing the country to move in slow motion, inspite of its many progresses. What a fitting book to read in times of chicken pox!

Life goes on.

What has been happening with you? It might take some time for me to visit your blogs and interact but I will be back to scan your words and thoughts.

Cheerio!

The 'hum' as a potential weapon . . .

2011-04-07T09:16:00.000+05:30

I don't know whether you have had to face this situation but in our home, it happens. I can't say whether it is a reflexive action but it sure does get on your nerves. Usually when an argument is going on, my sister starts humming a tune. Now, please don't think that it is a voluntary act. Well, it can be but I'm assuming that it isn't. She starts humming and sometimes even starts singing something. I somehow think that she does this to prove that her point is right by choosing to irritate the other party (read, me). When she starts this humming, a thousand reactions brew within me starting from the violent to x-rated violence. Well, I don't do anything but fume within me.

My sister doesn't stop with a single hum. She hums endlessly. Somehow, I see this humming as different from the pleasant humming. I wonder at how simple acts like humming and singing can be used as a potential weapon for irritating someone. Well, it is not only my sister, there are many others in whom I have observed this action. When there is some argument going on, they either start singing or playing some songs in their mobile, which is extremely annoying.

How many expressions to irritate people in an argument. Now, getting reflective, I might think that the problem lies within me as my mother or any other individual has not chosen to complain about this act of humming and singing. It is only me. Perhaps, there is a live wire in me which reacts when people choose to hum when the situation is not quite fit for humming.

People sometimes sing to mask their fear. While walking in a path that is dark and fraught with strange sounds, people choose to sing so that they don't have to hear the scary thoughts within their heads.

Afterall, Nero was fiddling when Rome was buring (Aside: Is that why the software used for burning CDs is called Nero?!?!?!?).

Now, dear reader tell me, have you imagined the power of the 'hum' and 'song' as I have shown you.

Image: Internet

Are some bloggers essayists?!?

2011-04-03T12:26:00.000+05:30

Reading through the definitions of an essay form, in preparation for my postgraduate class, I was consumed by the thought that many of us bloggers could actually be essayists. Just take this definition from Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia: An essay is a short piece of writing which is often written from an author's personal point of view. Essays can consist a number of elements including: literary criticism, political manifestos, learned arguments, observations of daily life, recollections, and reflections of the author. While famous essayists like Hazlitt, Lamb and others chose the medium (newspapers) that was available to them in their hey days, many writers today use the medium of blogging. But what differentiates bloggers from essayists is the fact that not many people in those days chose to dabble in prose; It was seen as the purview of a gifted few unlike blogging which is taken up by many people in today's world.

Reading Lamb's essays, I wonder whether many bloggers unconsciously follow his style and way of expressing themselves. Lamb is one of my favourite essayist and today, as I read his essays, it does not seem very different from the posts I have been reading in some of the blogs. Nostalgia, humour and intimacy made Lamb's essays memorable and lucid. His writings were devoid of flowery language and high-end vocabulary. His style was quite simple and therefore struck a chord with many literature students and others. Even our blog posts do much the same.

One thought which kept recurring within me as I scanned line after line from Lamb's essay was that if Lamb was alive today, he would have been a well-read blogger.

A few lines from Charles Lamb's essay: The South-Sea House

"Of quite another stamp was the then accountant, John Tipp. He neither pretended to high blood, nor in good truth cared one fig about the matter. He "thought an accountant the greatest character in the world, and himself the greatest accountant in it." Yet John was not without his hobby. The fiddle relieved his vacant hours. He sang, certainly, with other notes than to the Orphean lyre. He did, indeed, scream and scrape most abominably."

This post was an extension of my reading of Lamb's essays. I wonder whether my dear readers have thought of their writings in a similar fashion. Tell me.

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2. Internet

Selective sharing of information

2011-03-31T09:05:00.000+05:30

It so happens that I cannot discuss everything with everyone. I don't know why but I have this peculiar trait in me. Perhaps it is not quite peculiar as I think it is. I have few close friends but that does not mean that everyone knows everything about me. I choose to be selective. Now, why do I do this? I cannot fathom why. It is not about trust or any such thing. I am made like that, I think.Now this trait is not limited to friends alone. I choose to be like this in any relationship. I safeguard some bits and pieces about myself within me. There is this feeling that I should have something which should be savoured by me. Only me.

But there are some downsides to this trait. Many a times, people feel that I am not quite open with them which in turn leads to issues of trust. It is difficult to tell people that I want certain things to be in my private chest and not open to scrutiny by any one. Usually people say that love is something where there is nothing hidden from the other person. Somehow, I can't buy that. Inspite of keeping my wee stories with me, I can love endlessly. Is love only measured by transparency? No.

Well, I am sure every individual has certain things that form a vital part of their personality, which are meant to be only within them and not shared with anyone, however close. I could never be one who divulges every single detail from potty habits to bedroom antics. I choose what to say and what to treasure within me. The non-sharing comes from the fact that if I let it go, it will be not be something that is exclusively mine.

We all possess some traits as these and that is what makes us who we are. So, dear reader, what is your take on this topic?

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Unawares and stealthy: Thy name is change.

2011-03-28T16:02:00.000+05:30

Change is quite a strange creature. It attacks you but is careful enough not to let you know. No matter how much you try to understand yourself in terms of change, you realise that all that is only theory, which exists in the crevices of your mind. Sitting smug, you imagine that you know everything about change and how it is the only constant feature in life. Just the other day, I received a mail from an old friend. The person had replied to my mail after four long years! The mail also had the mail I had written. I was quite surprised to find that I had written something like that. Well, I had changed from what I was then but the realisation was like a chuckle which escapes unconsciously.

Take another instance like trying to wake up every morning for a walk. Everyday, I say to myself that I will get up the next day for a walk but the day breaks but I don't get up for a walk. Now what is so special about that, you wonder. Well, two years ago, I could get up without any effort and bang, go for a walk but now, it is no longer possible. I have become soft in my resolute. But just because I could do that two years ago, I think that even now I can effortlessly do it. Change has crept in. I pretend to be unaware. Laziness has taken hold of me. It is change, nevertheless.

I have seen that change is defined in many ways by different people: physical, mental, intellectual. Now, which one has more importance, I cannot say. But the saddest part is when does not know that she/he has changed. I felt quite sad for myself when I realised that I had changed from a person who was quite active to a person who is gradually becoming a bit slow. I know that this is something which can be changed but then, I don't worry about it as I still cheat myself into believing that "Well, so what . . ."

Sometimes, my ability to rant gets the better of me. Let me stop. How do you see change slowly spread its wings within your heart, mind and body? Do you see when it's coming or do you wonder whether it has really come?

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Role models/Mentors/Godfathers: Do all humans need them?

2011-03-22T14:47:00.000+05:30

It is not very uncommon to hear someone saying: He/She is my role model and has always influenced me. When I heard those words, I was just quiet, wondering whether everyone ought to have someone like that in their lives. Many people influence and inspire us but can we find all glowing qualities in a sigle individual?

People fail us. Not everyone is perfect. Well, every human has his/her own feet of clay. Now, I don't mean to say that perfection is what I am looking for. I just want to be amazed at the intrinsic characteristics of every individual I meet. Spiritual leaders are an inspiration for many but what their image stands for and what they are, is something most people don't realise.

When I was a child, I always held my mother to be my role model. Well, everyone said that they had someone as their model and I didn't have any, so I said that my mother was my role model. Today, that makes me smile. I love my mother and can relate to the many problems she faced but I just cannot see her as a role model and keep her apart. She is very much a part of me. She is real, tangible and human. Role models don't make mistakes, so say the people. But my mother is human and humane, prone to mistakes. Well, I am not talking of my mother here, so let me carry on.

There have been many who have stood for various things in my life. While I can admire one quality from x and another from k, I cannot think of anyone who is flawless and most perfect. Everyone can become a model for me at some point in my life. I seem to have a peculiar weekness for the common man/woman as my role model instead of celebrated people like Gandhi, Einstein and their ilk. They seem quite far away and stand for something that is distant. Well, sometimes I can relate to those streaks of greatness in them during my 'other' moods.

Well, do you have a role model who has never let you down? Do you look up to someone when you think you are facing something that seems quite endless? What is your take on this subject?

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Great moments come quietly

2011-03-19T20:44:00.000+05:30

Well, this post is the aftermath of a long awaited event. For four years, I had been working on my dissertation and finally on Thursay, I submitted it. It was a calm feeling. Numb. Still. Calm. Neither was I ecstatic nor jumping. I, of course, updated my status on Facebook. But it was more like an intimation to people that I had finally handed it in. There were many who wished me well and stood by me through the gruelling process of writing my thesis. Instead of writing to every single person, I let them know that I had handed it in.

The path wasn't an easy one. Many times in the process of writing, I thought of quitting but there were many who egged me on and gave me the strength to hold on. I had even written an angst-ridden post, "Anxieties of a research scholar," exactly a year ago.

This post reflects how great things don't always come with a bang or create butterflies all around. It arrives and leaves. This post is also a rendering of thanks to all the dear ones who were constantly encouraging, inquiring and wishing me positive energy. You mean a lot to me.

Life goes on . . .

Are your big moments also quiet and still? I know it is not always.

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The like/love debate

2011-03-16T17:16:00.000+05:30

For a long time now, I have heard different people of varied age groups utter: 'I love him but I don't like him' or 'Loving is easier than liking.' Well, I do understand the semantic difference between these two words but what puzzles me is the line: 'I love her but liking her is not quite my forte.' I had always assumed that the next step in liking has to be loving.

Coming to the usage, many times people associate inanimate objects with 'love.' For example, one says, 'I looove cheese' or 'I looove butterflies.' But can one actually attribute love with cheese and butterflies. Isn't 'like' the word to be used? While in personal relationships, one graduates from 'like' to 'love,' how can it be that one can 'love' somebody without liking him/her?

In that way, I'm glad that Facebook chose the word "like" instead of 'love' to show appreciation for a comment or picture. Well, this must be one of the few things that is worth praising in Facebook. Coming back to the like/love debate, I guess for many it doesn't matter whether it is 'like' or 'love.' As long as it suits the hearer, it is fine, is the attitude. But for certain contexts, using the appropriate word is quite commendable. Take for example this sentence: 'Joe, I love your wife, she is a fun person.' If a woman utters this, then Joe will be happy but if a man utters this, Joe will definitely squirm, unless he is one happy and jolly person (not many are so). So, I guess language has to be properly used.

Inspite of meandering through the terrains of 'love and 'like,' I still cannot comprehend how someone can love an individual without liking him/her. Care to explain?

I wish you happiness and love, always :)

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Flirting with intelligence or Intelligent flirting?

2011-03-14T21:21:00.000+05:30

I have always believed that flirting is an art which can be mastered only by a few. Though there are many kinds of flirting, one that I subscribe to is the flirting of the intellect which invariably connects to the individual. Talking about music, art, literature and culture is something that I immensely savour and enjoy. Flirting, which involves the above mentioned factors has always attracted and fascinated me. While attraction which involves other means like excessive flattery and unnecessary gibberish which passes off as subtle tools of flirting, flirting of the mind is something which involves intelligent conversation sprinkled with a liberal dosage of names such as Kant, Aristotle, Bach, Monet, Gogh, Shakespeare and the like.

Now don't get me wrong and think that name dropping is intelligent flirting. No. One has to truly know atleast something about the personalities who make up the creme de la creme of intelligentsia. This kind of flirting, I must say, is the playground of only a certain section. Now, I am not berating flirting of other forms. I can only talk about something which I like and believe in.

Flirting via the mind is quite beneficial to both parties. One gains knowledge,has stimulating conversation and of course impresses the equally integellient listener. I guess this kind of flirting comes with age and experience. But one must be wary of imposters who pretend to make intelligent conversations but are actually hollow on the inside.

Sometimes many of us do flirt even without knowing that we do. Maybe intelligent flirting is so.

All said and done, I conclude by saying that flirting (of the intellect), to me, is an art which cannot be mastered by many.

Well, life goes on. What say ye?

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The boredom syndrome

2011-03-07T17:51:00.000+05:30

"I'm bugged with work."

"Facebook is boring"

"T. V. is boring"

"Studying is boring."

"Bathing is boring."

"The day was boring."

My mother always says, "These days everyone is bored with something or the other. I was/am never bored. There was always something to do or think. But these days, though people complain that there is no sufficient time, they still get bored. Quite strange."

The lines uttered by my mother made me think and observe my vocabulary closely. Sometimes even when there is enough work to do, I randomly proclaim: "I am bored." This line is not uttered by me alone but many others who just say "I am bored." While I have never heard such utterances from my grandfather, uncles, aunts and mother, it is quite common to hear them from people in the present day world.

Why do people get bored? Are they genuinely bored or are they just exclaiming the words? While I tend to utter it for situations like valuing examination papers and the like, some choose to add the word 'boring' to almost every single act. Sometimes even life gets boring for people. Now, if life gets boring, what is the best solution? Change life or better still, die? Well, even that has a solution, according to self-help books.

I think the word 'boring' has replaced many other expressions. Being tired, overworked and the like is replaced by the boring syndrome. What has caused this change, I wonder? Is it the worthlessness of today's lifestyle or the plenitude that has caused saturation?

Well, for some blogging has become boring and so has reading posts.

What do you have to say about this sudden shift where everything has become boring?

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"Meet my dad, he's my best friend"

2011-03-05T22:08:00.000+05:30

The parent-child relationship can take different hues and turns. But one thing which baffles me is the proclamation of the child saying, "My father/mother is my best friend." I am never able to get over the fact that parents can be friends of their children. Well, I can understand that the relationship between parent and child can be great and quite affable but friendship is something I cannot reckon with. Well, how can a parent be a friend? Impossible.

If parents become their children's friends, I can foresee many problems there. Parents, to keep up with the child's lifestyle resort to acting like the child in terms of clothes, language, among other things. I would like my parent to be different from what I am, in terms of language, style and disposition. If my father or mother speaks the language that I speak, using the same slang and other things, it may seem cool but then where is the line that separates us? Generation gap is but natural in a relationship that is apart by ages. I guess that is healthy. The parent can speak of a time that is hitherto unknown to the child.

Every relationship has a specific role to play and though there can be occasional slipping in roles, there cannot be a role-reversal. I would like my parents to be friendly but not my friend. I have read and heard of many parents who want their children to share everything with them. It is quite healthy on some levels but there are some things that cannot be shared. On the other hand, if a parent claims to be a friend, then the parent has to invariably think and share the child's problem as a friend. While some parents find it easy to be a friend when it comes to using language and style, in the areas of problems, the parent has to precariously tread between roles.

After having said all this, I should add an disclaimer that these are my observations and perceptions. I am not yet a parent and so my observations are only hypothetical. But I do think that when I become a parent, I will be a friendly parent to my kid and not a friend. If I become a friend, my child would get a tad confused.

Well, parents and others, sound me on this trend.

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Under the radar at all times

2011-03-03T17:59:00.000+05:30

Being a teacher is lovely. No doubts. But being a teacher entails responsibility. Now I would like to see responsibility in two ways. One, where the individual is by default responsible and two, where the individual has to be consciously reponsible. But then one cannot always be categorised strictly into either one of the categories as there are moments and times when an individual slips between categories. Isn't everything in life like that? Well, that is why this post is so titled.

Every word and deed of a teacher become quote-worthy material. This post can also be seen as an extension of an earlier one titled, The perils of being a teacher of English. Sometimes I have to be quite wary of my words and examples as I am aware that I am being watched intently. The ability to switch from one role to another comes quite easily to a woman (Statistics say so, it's not me) but occasionally it does become a tad tedious. When among friends, I let lose my guard but then I suddenly realise that my students are around. Changing from a teacher to a friend and again a teacher requires immense acumen. I'm sure you will agree with me. Even the role of parents are quite similar. But parents have only one or two kids in comparison to the teacher who has to be aware of her/himself when in the presence of many kids.

My language, both verbal and non-verbal and style, when with students becomes different when in a formal classroom. Though I don't think of myself as a conventional teacher, there are times when one has to be taken seriously. As I write this post, I wonder what my students will think of this piece of writing? Are they aware that their teacher is not a teacher alone. Some eager students (whose enthusiasm for the subject is absolutely admirable) accost you while taking a break and suddenly the bliss of reverie stops mid-way and reality (as a teacher) cloaks one's personality.

It's wonderful to know that students admire and look upto you. On many a gloomy day, my visage is brightened as I enter into a class full of eager (and not so eager) faces. But in spite of all that, I feel that I am under a radar at all times.

Professional hazards, anyone? Some hazards are just an outcome of excessive thinking and analysing.

A companion piece to this post: Corinne Rodrigues' Do You Follow The 'Rules'?

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Too much of a slave to imagination

2011-03-01T11:19:00.000+05:30

People say that students of literature and the like are given to too much to imagination and fantasies. Well, I won't deny that but at the same time I would also say that it is a sweeping generalisation. One such imagination for me is when I undertake travelling of any kind. Whenever I board a bus/train or flight, I always imagine that I will meet interesting people and have conversations which would stimulate and excite me. Well . . . I guess I imagine and fantasise a bit too much.

Last night, I travelled by train. The passengers who were with me did not even smile at me. I was bit hesitant to make conversation as I thought that all of them did not want to be disturbed. And to top it all, all of them have their mobile phones and laptops to keep them company.

This morning, as I was waiting to get off the train, the man who was with me in the same compartment started talking to me. And we found out that he had gone to the same College as me and also belonged to the same department. Bang, we started . . . but alas! we had very less time. His words still ring clear: "Gosh, I should have spoken to you last night. These days people don't want to be disturbed and so I didn't talk to you." I wish he had spoken. How often we assume so many things but the assumption is not without a grain of truth. People do not want to be disturbed. Gone are the days when travel meant sharing stories, food, addresses and other things. I know of some people who have fallen in love while travelling in trains. These days everyone is in their own world either fidgeting with their mobiles or tapping away in their palm/laptops.

Coming to imagination, as I mentioned earlier, I used to be excited to travel as it involved meeting new people but I guess I should curb that imagination and be practical. But a sliver of hope still runs within me. I shall not give up. Some of my flight journeys also have been quite boring as the fellow passengers don't much talk. They don't even smile. Well, I sometimes think that I have to take off my rose-tinted glasses when it comes to travelling but I will not do it anytime soon.

Travel tales, anyone. What kind of a passenger are you? Do you like to talk or do you prefer being cocooned in your make belief world ignoring the other passengers?

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Forgiving and forgetting . . . I could add a clause there

2011-02-26T19:52:00.000+05:30

Waxing eloquence on forgiving and forgetting is all over the place. For some the combination is lethal. For some forgiving is easier but not forgetting. For some nothing matters. After a woman-to-woman discussion with my sister on this subject, we unanimously agreed that while forgiving and forgetting is easy with some individuals, it can be completely impossible with some.

No matter what the issue is, with some individuals, we find it quite hard to practice forgiveness. Perhaps, it is their disposition which is quite sardonic. While some others we can easily forgive even though their act is quite unpardonable. Why?

I agree that the human being is quite a complex creature with a bundle of contradictions. Sometimes living itself is filled with paradoxes and ironies. Such is life. But forgiving and forgetting is something which is quite an everyday process for most of us.

While it takes the utmost courage and strength to forgive as well as forget, it depends on the person who has committed the wrong. I can easily forgive and forget some individuals while I cannot do so with certain others. This kind of partiality is not quite becoming of me but I still DO it.

Well, I wonder what is your attitude in forgiving and forgetting. Can you be uniform across the board or are you like me?

Image: Internet

What do you have to say on this?

2011-02-23T10:55:00.000+05:30

Observe the picture carefully. It is a masterpiece by Pieter Bruegel. The painting is titled, "The Fall of Icarus." Assuming that you, worthy readers, know the myth of Icarus, I proceed to ask you a question. Why is this piece titled "The Fall of Icarus," when Icarus is not prominent in the painting?

I am never ceased to be wondered by the title of this painting. Now I wonder what you have to say on this.

Image: Internet

Adults and estimation of time

2011-02-21T10:38:00.000+05:30

It all starts when one has kids. Well, you don't have to have your own kids, cousins, aunt's kids will also serve the purpose. Ever noticed that while walking with kids, they tend to ask: "How much more should we walk?" And pat comes the kind reply: "We will be there in a minute" or "We've almost reached." Now whenever the poor child asks the question, we tend to give the same reply. The innocent kid who always trusts, nods sadly. Adults don't intentionally lie but pacify the kid assuring him/her that the distance is not too much. Legitimate.

Now what is a bit puzzling is that even with adults, some people resort to the same behaviour. Take for example, returning calls. If someone tell that she/he will call in ten minutes, nine out of ten will never call in ten minutes. If one calls back and politely demands why the call wasn't returned, the answer one gets is something like this: "I said ten minutes. You are very impatient. Don't act like a child." But it is past twenty minutes. How do we account for this estimation of time at the other end?

More than being callous, some individuals give an estimated time that crosses their mind at that precise time. They don't ever think beyond that particular situation. Similarly, the numbers two and five are very popular with people. The expression, "Give me five minutes" or "Give me two seconds" is quite common. If you haven't noticed this, please do so. You will be surprised at the number who use the numbers mentioned above, of course without sticking to the specified number in time. Five minutes will always be twenty and two seconds will always be five minutes. So much so.

Time is relative. Agreed. But when it comes to others' time, it is precious. One cannot take unsolicited liberties with other people's time. While giving a time limit, it is better we try to stay with it.

So, what's your take on estimating time.

Image: Internet

The perils of being a teacher of English

2011-02-19T14:17:00.000+05:30

Not one.

Not two.

Wait, till I narrate my tale of woe.

Though I cannot deny the wonderful attributes of being a teacher, I must admit that being a teacher of English has many many strings attached to it. Firstly, people (all sorts: students, immediate and extended family, general acquaintances, friends and others) think that you know the meanings of all the words in the face of the earth. Second, your grammar has to be flawless and your writing precise. Third, you are always called by relatives to clarify doubts, write invites, essays for children, fill up forms and other inane forms of writing.

Let me stop with the list.

One thing which instantly puts me off is that while I am engrossed in my work, I sometimes receive a call from a cousin living in another city, requesting the meaning of a particular word that she came across in the newspaper. Depending on my mood, I respond to the situation. If in a sober and peppy mood, I take it in my stride and feel elated that people call ME to get word meanings. But if my mood is slightly under the weather, the caller will be given a liberal dosage (I shall illustrate with the exact words): "Do you think I am a mobile dictionary. You are plain lazy to look up a word and thus call me from nowhere. Don't you know that the dictionary has all the words you are looking for. Lazy ##$%&*."

Assessing the situation, it looks like not only teachers of English but all teachers are expected to be all-knowing. But teachers who teach English and languages become the most targeted of the lot as language becomes indispensable (read language teachers as well) in everyday life.

Off late, every teacher of English is supposed to have a blog. The conversation starts of like this: "Oh, you teach English . . . then you must be having your own blog." Well, incidentally I do have a blog but why are there so many stereotypes associated with a teacher of English. I can go on with my meanderings but I shall take heed of your patient disposition and stop.

Maybe you also belong to the category of people who view teachers of English as all-words-knowing and super man/woman-in-grammar. If yes, please state the basis of your theory and if no, you are blessed and may your tribe increase.

I welcome all teachers to vent, rant, complain and add your woes as well :)

On second thoughts, I think that we (teachers of English) ought to be better than the common man in knowing the nuances of the language. Contradiction? Life is so . . .

Image: Internet

Contesting the term 'Non-Vegetarian'

2011-02-16T11:21:00.000+05:30

About two months ago, I read a book by Kancha Ilaiah titled Buffalo Nationalism: A Critique of Spiritual Fascism. I agreed on many things he had to say but one argument that stood out is the usage of the term 'non-vegetarian.' Ilaiah contests the term 'non-vegetarian.' He coins another term "meatarian." Somehow Ilaiah seems to say that by using the term non-vegetarian, it gives an impression that vegetarianism was the previous order and after a point in history, people started to eat other food items such as meat and related products.

Now, I am not quite aware of this part of history but his argument seemed quite sensible and valid. Why should one divide the category of food based on vegetarianism. It is like a racist exclusion of one group. Though the term 'non-vegetarian' is used quite commonly by all and sundry, the sudden realisation that the word spells out a division which quite favours vegetarianism is quite amusing and interesting (no wonder, I wanted to write a post on this).

Well, some of you might ask: What is there in a name? But name is the first criterion by which identity is established. I am being quite mild here on this issue but if you read Ilaiah's book, his scathing remarks might leave many with a taste of ash in the mouth.

All said and done, vegetarianism and meatarianism is a matter of personal choice so please don't take this post as a tirade against vegetarianism or vegetarians.

After having read the book, I have resolved to use the term 'meatarian' instead of 'non-vegetarian.'

What say, dear readers? Which term do you prefer and do you agree with me when I say that meatarianism is a suitable word than non-vegetarianism?

Image: Internet

Why we follow whom we follow

2011-02-12T21:46:00.000+05:30

The "follow" button in Blogger has become the most favoured as well as despised button of the blog authors and readers. When one begins to blog, the button is looked with yearning and getting followers one by one gives a sense of unique self-esteem which inflates the ego. One feels that there are people who like the writing style and content of the blog. Well, this is just the beginning. After a considerable number of followers decorate our blog, we gradually learn that following a blog is something like the art of flitting from one blog to another, reading the most recent post, and voila! pressing the Follow button. It becomes a formality.

Recently, while going through my blog's followers, I found that many individuals follow my blog while only few are regulars. I think they base their opinion of a blog by reading the most recent post and instantly hit the Follow button, little knowing that they never will venture in the same place again. Sad. Following blogs has become more like a return gift where if one follows, the other reciprocates by following. For a very long time, I meditated and mulled over before following any blog. I had to read atleast three to four posts of that blog before I could press "Follow." Even now I do that but have lost the verve of yore.

Following has become more like a social obligation where one leaves a visiting card to everyone present. Social butterflies who are adept at hopping from parties to parties make good bloggers who follow any blog quickly but seldom take time leave comments or even visit the blogs they follow.

So, if I don't follow your blog after you have started following mine, it means that I am reading your posts and wondering whether I should Follow.

Well, these thoughts were an instant emptying of the meandering mind. Why do you follow whom you follow? Do you take time to follow a blog or you show your kindness by returning another blogger's favour and following.

Image: Internet

No turning back, no turning back

2011-02-09T11:06:00.000+05:30

The title is inspired by a song sung in Sunday school which says that no matter what, I will follow Jesus and there will be no turning back. Well, many bloggers resort to the technique of "no turning back" when it comes to comments. If I make any comment on a specific site, I make it a point to visit and see if the post's author has responded to my comment. Some bloggers who receive many comments don't reply and that is perfectly understandable as their box is filled with many many comments. But as bloggers, do we actually go back and see if our comment has received any feedback or observation. Many a times, I have had wonderful insights on my comment. The author of the post would have clarified or explained something which I had inquired or asked in my comment.

Do you think that by commenting alone, we have proven that we have visited our favourite blog? Well, it does not end there. I see most comments leading to effective dialogues between two individuals. Sometimes it so happens that another commenter also adds to the conversation and thus the dialogue becomes vibrant and interactive.

To be honest, I just like reading replies to my comments and hence I make it a point to go back and check on the blogs that I have left a comment. While many of my friends have a deluge of comments and thus don't reply to individual comments, they show their appreciation and clarification by emailing me or sending a message through Facebook. How I value those mails and interaction!

Finally, by going back to the blogs we have commented, we also get to read other comments which support or negate the point we are trying to make and hence we can identify people with mindsets similar to us.

So, how do you look at the issue of "no turning back" Do you go back and check the responses to your comments or do you visit a site/blog only when you need to comment when a new post is published?

Wishing you a lovely remainder of the week.

Image: Internet

On arriving at a universal consensus on taste

2011-02-06T12:40:00.000+05:30

Taste buds and food go hand-in-hand, no doubt but can one arrive at a common ground on taste. Is it possible that my definition of tasty food might not actually be yours. Many a times I find myself staring at food which is proclaimed to be tasty ( now I am not speaking of different cultures, here) but is a let down for me in terms of taste and sight. Did I mention that the sight of food is a great turn on for me rather than just the taste? The colours, textures and smell are like a prologue to me, before I start the process of actual eating. It is for the reasons mentioned earlier that I find it difficult to eat in the dark. I need to see and feast my eyes on the food before I feast my tongue and stomach. So much so.

Now coming back to the subject of universal taste, I wonder if the definition of 'tasty food' differs from one individual to the other. I can understand when the notion of 'tasty food' is diverse for different cultures but does the notion abound for individuals connected by the same culture. I definitely think it is. Now there is another string attached to this. Food cooked by mothers always carry universal value to the children. For me, sadly, it is not so. Food, for me is independent of sentiments and other values. I cannot appreciate food just because it is cooked by someone very special. Well, I might sound harsh when saying this but believe me there are disadvantages when you falsely commend something that is not, er, quite delectable. You will be forced to eat food that you don't fancy, just because you made a polite (false) remark unknowingly.

After having said and done with everything, I am quick to pronounce that though the definition of 'tasty' might be universal for some food dishes, it cannot be so for every single dish. After all, taste lies in the tongue of the taster!!

Well, your valuable thoughts on universal taste and food.

Image: Internet

Conversing in the dark

2011-02-03T10:58:00.000+05:30

Have you ever had soulful conversations in the dark?

When a friend or cousin comes over to your place and you find yourself wanting to share so many aspects of your life to him/her, you forget that it is time for sleep. Often personal and intimate conversations, for me, happen at night. The darkness is some sort of intoxication which loosens and makes me talk non-stop. I have observed this trait with many people of both sexes. Once there is the shroud of darkness where one can hear only the voice and not see the expression on the face, dark secrets are easier to spill.

I often wonder about conversing in the dark. Why do people feel so comfortable talking in the dark? The individual knows the person sitting beside is a confidant and can be trusted with anything. But still darkness is something which acts as a wonderful catalyst for speaking of the innermost thoughts and feelings.

And while this soulful conversation takes place, one can observe patterns on the wall made by the tiny light orifices. If any vehicle passes outside, the shadow of the objects outside make patterns on the wall. If these patterns interrupt our conversation, we are more than happy to watch the moving figures.

I might have had innumerable such conversations in the dark with friends, parents, relatives, colleagues and students. No matter what the topics were, it flowed seamlessly. Shame, guilt and other strings were cut lose. Sometimes tears which would flow involuntarily were masked by the darkness (ofcourse if the sniffles are absent).

Finally, we never know when we fall asleep. Sleep comes unawares and the next morning leaves us with a feeling of camaraderie -- a process where each other drank freely out of the cup of mistakes, pain, love, laughter and guilt.

I love those conversations in the dark.

Have you had such 'dark' conversations?

Image: Internet

Fascinated by Chronobiology

2011-01-31T21:24:00.000+05:30

Picking up the latest issue of a weekly magazine, I found an article which gave insights into the natural rhythms of the body. I have read of the circadian rhythm before and was aware that our body followed a certain inbuilt pattern when it came to sleeping and waking.

Now the term 'Chronobiology' was quite interesting to me as 'time' is something that holds an eternal fascination for me. Myths on time always make interesting reading material. Now sleeping and waking processes may seem to be only a singular aspect of life but those patterns determine almost everything that happens to us.

Small changes in our sleeping time can cause havoc to almost every aspect of our life. Quite mind-boggling! Imagining myself to be quite productive and slogging away a few nights in the week can turn my body topsy-turvy. Well, what can a few nights of sleeplessness do to me, I can think but chronobiology proves otherwise. All of us have our own rhythms and patterns that are genetic and environment-based.

Artificial lights, watches, alarms and the like have tampered our natural body rhythms and in the process made us slaves to work and more work.

By reading about the rhythms of the body, I realise how often that I have not let my body be according to its own rhythm. I have forced, cajoled and bribed it to work mercilessly. Here, I find that I have to mention the tribals who don't have any clocks or alarms but still maintain time accurately. No matter how tired they are, they do not wake up late, says the article.

I would love to listen to my body. I do not know how easy this is going to be. Well, do you honour your body's rhythms? Do you slave or love it? Maybe you love it but still slave it. Well . . .

Image: Internet

Accidentally . . .

2011-01-29T19:25:00.000+05:30

Yesterday, I was collecting words.

One was up there, sitting in the bo tree.
Another was in the banyan.
One was wandering in my street.
Another was lying in the earthern jar.
A green word lay in the fields.
A black one was eating flesh.
A blue word was flying
With a grain of the sun in its beak.
Every single thing in this world looks like a word to me.
The words of eyes.
The words of hands.
But I do not understand words I hear from a mouth.
I can only read words.
I can only read words.

~ Shiv Kumar Batalvi

After my evening walk, I straight walked into the Library where a book called out to me. The title: A little book on MEN by RaHuL RoY. Accidentally I flipped the pages and arrived at the very last but one page where the poem was waiting for me. I thought I would share it with you. So, what do you think.

Image: Internet

The concept of getting dirty

2011-01-27T10:56:00.002+05:30

Observing myself, I find that though I like mud and don’t mind using it for some purposes, I am not quite comfortable with getting dirty. Though oft I speak of getting connected to the earth by doing some physical activity, the fact is that when I have had a bath and I come across some task wherein I have to get down into a muddy place which also has water, I try finding excuses to escape that particular situation. It is for this and many other reasons that I cannot become a tribal. Dealing with many facets of tribal literature and their way of living, I find that their world view and lifestyle seems to be closer to the earth. Their tasks which include fishing, hunting and other activities involve a lot with getting muddied. I feel that they share a very vibrant and passionate relationship with their environment.

How much ever the tribal way of life fascinates me, I am forced to come to terms with the fact that my lifestyle is completely removed from theirs. Maybe my sensibilities and sense of awareness on diverse cultures are perhaps a degree higher than an individual who has done, say, engineering or rocket science but I am no different than the average city dweller for whom getting dirty is not very pleasant.

Now coming back to the concept of getting dirty, there is no such concept for a tribal. There is no distinction of the dirty in their everyday life. They have a sense of order and harmony but dirt, I am not very sure. Being clean, I think is a very modern concept, which emerged after the onset of Industrial Revolution. With the increasing plethora of advertisements which force hygiene as a way of life, it is but natural that one repulses anything dirty or even something remotely brown or gray. The very idea of clean clothes, hands, feet and head has made our living highly conscious and wary of dirt.

The only willing parties to getting dirty and brown are children. They roll, play and sit on mud. Some kids even eat mud. As they grow older, they start adopting the ‘clean’ ideologies of the elders thus forsaking the concept of getting dirty. Another set of people who are willing parties to getting dirty are potters, painters and the like. But sometimes their profession is so that they belong to the realm of ‘artists’ and thus in a way privileged. But even the artists get ‘dirty’ only when at work. I might be wrong here, but still.

Sometimes when we internalize some aspects of what we read, we think that it is quite easy to ‘become’ something, little realizing that while some things are wonderful to be imagined, the reality is far removed.

What are your opinions on this? Do you like getting dirty or are you like me!?!?

Image: Internet

"I think it would be fun to run a newspaper"

2011-01-21T16:58:00.000+05:30

Finally. Yes, finally I did see the oft praised and quoted movie: CITIZEN KANE. After a long time, I allowed myself to be sucked by the willing suspension of disbelief. I found time to watch a movie, a good one that!

While the film has received rave reviews for many many aspects of film-making, I enjoyed traversing through the life of Charles Foster Kane and his projected self. Above all, I see the film as a wonderful tribute to the print medium: the Newspaper.

The newspaper determines Kane's life and vice-versa. While there were many businesses in which he could have made money, Kane chose the newspaper. While the ethics he followed were completely Kane-stamped, the popularity of the medium those days was well-exploited. Certain lines from the film hold true even in today's given world. Kane says, "The news goes on for 24 hours a day" in response to one of the editor's claim that they work for 12 hours only. In today's scenario, this cannot be truer where we have news channels which run 24/7.

In another situation, Kane remarks that if there is no news just make the headlines bigger and bolder. Well, we have seen instances of that as well. Kane chooses the business of running newspapers primarily because he could force people to think the way that he wanted them to. The media does exactly that! To imagine the power of media in those days (1941) is absolutely mind-boggling to the likes of someone like me.

Though Kane is depicted to be brutal, selfish, egoistic and cunning, I found that I started admiring his vulnerability. He was a child who loved playing with Rosebud and treated everything else as something which was just there and not relished by him. His line "I always gagged on that silver spoon" is example to that.

Finally, after seeing the film, I realise the the hype surrounding this film is indeed worth it. Making a film like that in 1941 truly deserves honour and glory. Orson Welles, I stand in awe of your prowess.

Have you seen this historical film? If yes, do share your experience with me and if no, please do see it.

Image: Internet

Acknowledgements.inc

2011-01-18T13:44:00.000+05:30

Every authentic book has a page devoted to acknowledgements where the writer(s) thank everyone who were instrumental for the making of the book. Though it is quite common to see acknowledgements in books, it has become a bit sparse in real life. I don't find people making it a point to acknowledge other people for their achievements, however small.

I find this streak especially in people who have crossed the middle-age bracket. Sometimes when they get some vital ideas from junior colleagues, they present the ideas as if it is their own and revel in the applause and admiration. Well, a single line acknowledging the person behind the idea would have gained the individual more admiration. I cannot make this trait a sweeping generalisation but I have seen this happening more often.

While younger individuals are quick to acknowledge the effort of others, people who are older fail to do so. Probably as one advances in age, the factor that they should be all-knowing encompasses their thinking which makes them unable to acknowledge any other individual thus grabbing the credit for themselves.

In India, we have a different system from the Western one where one does not say 'Thank You' for everything. Culturally, we are not quite akin to thanking people. Perhaps that cultural feature continues to dwell in every aspect of our life as well. But public acknowledgement is not mandatory but atleast a pat on the back will sure make a difference.

As I progress with this post, the thoughts that were dominant in the beginning are gradually beginning to fade as I think of our culture and its implications. But what reigns supreme in my mind is that every person needs that bit of acknowledgement as it is an incentive for performing better.

What is your take on this? Are you quick to acknowledge the role of people in your endeavours or do you find yourself a bit stingy with compliments?

“Darn it, the whole time I thought I was an introvert, now to find out that I’m an extrovert"

2011-01-16T11:44:00.000+05:30

Today when I opened my inbox, I had received an email forward from a good friend. The forward was about how the earth's wobble had caused a shift in the zodiac signs. The title to this post is an expression from one of the readers after reading the piece.

Many times I have imagined about this scenario: What if my zodiac changes somehow. Will I be happy about it? Will my stamped qualities undergo a shift? Well, I never gave much heed to those thoughts until I read the piece titled, "Sign of the times: Astrology Story soars like a comet". Reading the views of people on this bit of news, though a bit hilarious, shows how zodiac signs have become an important aspect of people's lives.

Some people start their day by reading what the stars predict for them. Imagine reading the prediction for Libra all this while and suddenly finding out that you are no longer a Libra but a Scorpio!! Wooh. The libran would have mindlessly bragged about how a libran was gentle, charming and sweet in comparison to the scorpio who was mean, stinging and jealous! Problem area # 1.

Now for those who have tattoos of their sun sign. A shift in the position of the earth would leave them with an inaccurate sun sign. They have to bear the brunt of a wrong sign as well as the thought of many hundreds of rupees lost. Problem area # 2.

Some expressions after reading the piece (you can find them in the article link given above):

“My whole life, I thought I was a Capricorn,” the 25-year-old New York publicist said. “Now I’m a Sagittarius? I don’t feel like a Sagittarius!”

“I believe it’s a zodiac scam”

Sometimes instead of taking the different characteristics of the zodiac to assess our personality, we let the signs determine our personality. Finally we find ourselves moulding us according to the features described in the sun signs.

Well, what if my sun sign changes, I am the same person albeit with a different sun sign.

So, tell me do you find this piece of information quirky, interesting or simply another "scam."

Image: Internet

From periphery to the centre

2011-01-12T12:43:00.000+05:30

For a long time now, this poem has been sitting in my blog's side-bar. I was amused by the poet's ability to present a serious topic in such a lighter vein. Read the poem and tell me what you think:

A FEW WORDS ON THE SOUL

BY WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

We have a soul at times.

No one’s got it non-stop,

for keeps.

Day after day,

year after year

may pass without it.

Sometimes

it will settle for awhile

only in childhood’s fears and raptures.

Sometimes only in astonishment

that we are old.

It rarely lends a hand

in uphill tasks,

like moving furniture,

or lifting luggage,

or going miles in shoes that pinch.

It usually steps out

whenever meat needs chopping

or forms have to be filled.

For every thousand conversations

it participates in one,

if even that,

since it prefers silence.

Just when our body goes from ache to pain,

it slips off-duty.

It’s picky:

it doesn't like seeing us in crowds,

our hustling for a dubious advantage

and creaky machinations make it sick.

Joy and sorrow

aren't two different feelings for it.

It attends us

only when the two are joined.

We can count on it

when we’re sure of nothing

and curious about everything.

Among the material objects

it favors clocks with pendulums

and mirrors, which keep on working

even when no one is looking.

It won’t say where it comes from

or when it’s taking off again,

though it’s clearly expecting such questions.

We need it

but apparently

it needs us

for some reason too.

~ Translated from the Polish by Stainslaw Baranczak and Clare Cavanagh

Image: Internet

Pondering and asking you to lend me your thoughts

2011-01-09T13:12:00.000+05:30

Do you think that only fear of consequences (loss/punishment) keeps (wo)man good and pious?

Can ecological sensibilities be inherent and intrinsic?

Awaiting your responses.

A strong woman, she is!

2011-01-04T19:35:00.000+05:30

What makes an individual strong? Well, I'm not talking of physical strength but emotional and mental. I often wonder at the usage of the word 'strong.' Often checking on the background of the individual, I realise that one is strong if:

1. he/she has been through failed relationships
2. deaths in in the family
3. extreme financial loss and coping through it
4. unsound emotional health at home caused by either parents, siblings or extended family

If the above reasons have been part of an individual's life and he/she has managed to stay sane inspite of all that, then the person is labeled as 'strong.' Now if a person has not been through the conditions mentioned above, then is that person not strong enough. We love to admire people who are 'strong.' I don't know why but the word has been abused over time. The tag 'strong,' though is highly motivating and encouraging, it creates a certain standard by which one is pigeon-holed. Every bout of failing constantly echoes the line: 'You are a strong woman.' Sometimes this creates a feeling of fear of failing. Just because a person is labeled strong, it becomes imperative that the person keeps up to the standard of being 'strong' always.

But the label does wonders to the self-esteem as well. On many a days when the spirit is down, lines like, 'You are a strong woman/man' and 'I know that you are quite strong to handle that' is always uplifting. But an overdose of motivating words can sometimes work on a reverse gear.

Another meandering as I start on with another year. Do you also think this way, sometimes?

Image: Internet

Joy and peace as you step into 2011

2010-12-31T11:05:00.000+05:30

You have done what you could — some blunders and absurdities have crept in. Forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day. You shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense.

~ Emerson

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We have survived . . . We move on . . .

2010-12-27T19:38:00.001+05:30

Well, another year is coming to an end. The rains left the roads with potholes and broken wires. The rains stopped long ago but the scars remain. We have survived that. India saw scam after scam where the figures of the scams left us baffled. We survived. Somewhere in the world, miners were rescued. We read and heard the news. We moved on. Aung San Suu Kyi was released after many years of house-arrest. Well, so what?

Politicians squander, people die of hunger, and many many events have shook our comfort-zones. Yet we have survived all of them and look forward to another year. Sometimes I wonder how I can be happy and look forward to another year which will be an exact replica of the bygone year. I keep quiet . . . accept that politicians will loot and celebrities will flash their assets. How does it concern me?

Yet, I look forward to another year, simply because I am alive and able to understand that the things mentioned above are beyond my control. But the hope is that there are things which I can control, like, my spending, maybe my weight! Ugh. Well. Small things bring joy and make the journey into another year promising and engaging. I survive because of those small things.

Well, what do you have to say on this?

Image: Internet

Imagining you . . .

2010-12-22T13:23:00.000+05:30

This is a post I began months ago but did not return to it as I was not so inclined at that point of time. But now after much deliberation, I've decided to jot it down.

For many months now, I have been writing and receiving comments, which gives me joy and makes me reflect. As I read the comments, some make me smile, some think, some delight . . . I just can't stop thinking as to how my readers will respond as they read my posts. Now let me explain, I can imagine some of you sipping coffee and reading posts . . . gently placing the cup down and writing a comment . . . and again sipping the coffee. It gives me immense pleasure to imagine you sitting miles away (sometimes you might be closer to me in geography) and doing whatever you have been doing, and stopping to see your dashboard. Maybe your room is spacious and your computer beside a window. Or maybe your room is small and known as 'computer room.' I have thought of this over and over.

But there have also been times when I cannot savour the posts of my favourite bloggers due to lack of time. At those times, I try not to give in to temptation and just race through the post for the sake of reading. If I cannot relish the post, I refrain from reading it as well. How we construct our own patterns and thoughts while performing a task, is always a wonder to me. Sometimes the tasks we do are very similar but by doing it in our own way, we lend it our signature.

A few months ago, imagining my readers was my favourite night-time activity, before sleep wrapped me up in her arms and gently led me away. Some of your faces I do not know but that does not stop my imagination. I know your names and so I think of a form and a blank face. The mind is simply amazing. It can contrive anything and colour it brilliantly. Now, I can go on and on about this strange meandering.

At the same time, I would like to know at what time do you like to post and read posts. What is the expression on your face while reading posts? Do you smile? Do you mumble and say, "Wow! That could have been me writing . . ." Do you imagine me as I imagine you?

Image courtesy: Internet

Roommate

2010-12-20T13:52:00.000+05:30

Living in a hostel for the first time and sharing a room with another person has given me new names and roles. I am a ‘roommate’ now. For the first time when she addressed me like that to her friend over the phone, I was flabbergasted. Was she referring to me? I did not intend to eavesdrop but I just wanted to know whether it was me. And indeed, it was me!

I have always loved to refer people by their names and not their roles. So when I was reduced to a mere ‘roommate,’ I must admit that I was a bit unsettled. That’s when I started rationalizing this feature of roles connected to people. It is quite natural to communicate using roles and it is just mind-boggling to know that Susan is not Susan alone but a roommate, teacher, daughter, student and so on. I cannot but think that I am many and still I am me. The whole idea seems so fascinating.

After that long thought on roles and names, I finally came to the conclusion that it is not always possible to refer to people by their names. For example, I cannot talk about my mother by referring to her by her name. I have to tell the receiver that I am talking to my mother and not …. Well, so many thoughts on roles and names.

Now, all said and done, I am your blogger-friend and not Susan. Well, I might be ‘blogger-friend, Susan’ but still . . .

So, what are you? And how do you perceive roles-names and what do you prefer to be known as? I think I can imagine your answers but I will let you speak . . .

Image: Internet

I almost told her but stopped . . .

2010-12-12T18:09:00.000+05:30

Life sure gets interesting with the advance of age. But there are some temptations which one has to avoid with the progress of age. One of the temptation is giving out free advice! Off late, I observe myself in some of my students and young colleagues. My students and some young friends are prone to committing the exact mistakes which I committed years ago. The pattern is the same, the texture is the same and as I notice their pitfalls, I am so very tempted to tell them: Better don't do this! or Maybe you should think about that. But I stop myself. I learned things the hard way and no matter what my seniors told me, I did not choose to heed. I went ahead and fell down headlong and arose.

But I should admit that staying away from giving advice does not come easily to me. I somehow have to say something about "When I was of your age . . ." I know that eight out of ten individuals do not appreciate free advice but still I have to chip in my two bits. Sometimes I try very hard to stop myself. I am compassionate that way. I don't try to imitate my seniors and advice the poor victims. But as one advances in age, there is this niggling urge to offer unsolicited advice.

But don't you think that age does this to all of us. We have walked a certain number of miles and that has made us into what we are. After reaching a point, when we look back we think that we could have avoided certain things. Perhaps when we see children and adolescents about to commit the same old mistakes, it is but natural for us to try and warn them. But somehow the free advice is not always taken in the way it should be taken. Therefore, I refrain. Let life teach them.

Now, I wonder what my readers have to say on this: Age and unsolicited advice.

Image: Internet

Someone told me . . .

2010-12-10T12:47:00.001+05:30

Off late, it has been quite hectic this side which does not allow me to post periodically inspite of bursting ideas and reflections. The meanderings go on but the posts remain elusive.

Observing people and wondering about them often proves quite engaging. I especially amaze at the different phrases that are dropped well-meaningly but unassumingly. The use of the phrase: 'Someone told me' or 'I heard someone telling . . .' has become quite common that it is sprinkled rather liberally in conversations. At that particular time it seems quite insignificant but that phrase is still carried over twice and thrice by individuals who again say: 'Someone told me . . ..' How often we just carry forward rumours and as such on and on.

I honestly believe that the art of conversation has many strategies but the most abused, according to me is passing on information without verification. I know that it is absolutely harmless on our part when we pass on something which we have heard as a second-hand information. But it would do no harm to verify our sources and then carry it on.

My students, especially, excel in this art. They always tell me something and when I interrogate them further, I get sheepish smiles and blank looks. It was then that I realised that even adults are prone to this behaviour. Most of the times these phrases might be the clever concoction of the speaker who wants to pass off something but does not want to be associated with it. Maybe it is a device to appear clever albeit till the conversation ends and a few minutes thereafter.

Well, whatever the motive, dropping phrases and attributing that to someone is not as smart. Or maybe it is smart!

Hmmmmm, so did someone say that conversation is an art and one can have the liberty of saying anything? What do you think?

Image courtesy: Internet

Alas! What has plastic done!

2010-12-04T17:05:00.001+05:30

While I was growing up, the corner shop was a vital part of our life. Every now and then, while in the process of cooking, my mother would need something and I had to run to buy that item. The best part of those shops, for my mother, was the bits of paper which were used to wrap the items. After emptying the contents, my mother would settle down to read whatever was printed on that bit of wrapping paper. Since many shop-keepers used newspapers, the wrapper would invariably contain parts and if lucky, full articles. If I was standing nearby, she would say: “You know these small bits of paper contain the best of reading material and you should never discard those without reading what is on it.” And she would go on reading whatever she could manage to read.

I was never very particular about that exercise until I suddenly noticed that we no longer had such small bits of stories (as I would like to call it) as wrappers. The papers were replaced by glossy plastic sachets and packets which had fine lettering printed on it. Then, I started missing those bits of paper. Sometimes the bits of paper would be answer sheets of students with the comments of teachers. It used to be quite interesting to stumble upon such items unexpectedly.

It so happens that whenever my mother used to get these wrapped papers, she would end up reading some beauty/cookery tips or some yummy recipes. My mother always would say: “I must remember to write this down.” But she will invariably forget and often times when she is preparing a dish, she would suddenly remember about that bit paper and rummage the house to find it. Little did she know that the paper would have been discarded by some smart member of the family who would see it as another waste material fit to be thrown away. But as history often repeats itself, my mother would get another bit of paper like that and would want to remember to write it down but would forget and the cycle goes on.

Last evening, I wanted to dispose something and so I tore a piece of paper. But that piece of paper had some interesting tid-bits of news and I ended up reading that whole piece of paper. And since the date of that particular paper would be somewhere in the past, it also carried some element of recollection of that particular day. While I was reading that piece of paper, I silently lamented the vanishing away of those corner shops and their paper wrappers. Alas! Plastic has stolen the small pleasure of reading unexpected stories and experience. And this is not the only thing that has been usurped by plastic . . .

Reading bits of paper, anyone? I am sure we all love those treats which come our way . . .

Image courtesy: Internet