A boy and a girl and a new dynasty …

The girl was 8 and the boy was 10 (give a year here or there). Till that night, their major preoccupation in life was skipping hours together mastering all the levels and getting educated from older brother who taught them capital cities of all nations, Latin numbers (alpha, beta, gamma, delta ending with kappa and lambda) etc. and all the ‘stuff’ one needs to know. They new names like Eurasia, Oceania, Middle East and Far East because of him.

That particular night, they were sitting on the cot and the boy was showing off his prowess in jumping tricks and the girl was in awe of the rubber limbs of the boy who was contorting his body parts like a circus monkey. Suddenly there was a great ‘THUD’ and a breathless yelp and great eerie silence.

They both knew what it was and rushed out of the house. Their guess turned out to be true. That was the cruellest thing they had witnessed in their experience of a decade.

The boy always wanted a puppy and she wanted whatever the boy wanted because she knew it must be good if he wants it. Because he was the one who protected her from ‘real’ danger. He told her when they were crossing the road to School to hold his hand, he was the one who beat up the pesky boy who taunted them, he was the one who made her believe that ‘Hanumantha’ is always with them, he was the one who held her hand in the night when she was afraid of ‘Vajramuni’ coming and piercing her stomach, he was the one with real strategies to escape if there was a cattle stampede, elephant attack or an earthquake….

Their home was a smallish building which was in the fashion of a train. 5 different sized living spaces one after the other. There were six people living altogether with lots of stuff since the father was a hoarder of old stuff.
That eventful night, the boy and girl rushed out to find the puppy which they had looked at with longing, in the drainage ditch. That puppy had wandered off from the locality of its birth and was ‘claimed’ by a pesky boy who got to keep it just because he was younger and peskier. It was rightfully the boy’s and the girl’s. Pesky boy’s grandmother knew it and she kicked the puppy forcefully and evicted it out of her premises.

The boy and the girl faced one insurmountable barrier – PARENTS. The boy showed his potential to be a great negotiator by tearfully pleading and agreeing left, right and center for whatever adverse effects parents put forward and the girl told the ultimate solution, she would go with two meals everyday and the third meal can be given to the puppy. There was agreement after lots of haggling over the price the boy and girl will pay.
• No dog poo or pee in the house
• They will be responsible for dog walks
• They will make sure it is clean and will never enter THE kitchen
• It shall not be a nuisance when it grows up and should stay out of the house

Counter considerations were put up by the boy and girl team,
• There will not be any poo or pee but just in case it happened then they will only clean it up,
• They want the puppy to be inside the house now because it is winter and it is cruel to leave it out but it will go out once it grows
The puppy which looked like a starved pirate came in to their home that night. It was the founder member of the ‘Chinnu’ dynasty. It ruled the roost from that moment on.
This dynasty was founded by the boy and girl.

To my gorgeous cousins

People keep talking about respecting each other in relationships. Though this is a key to all interpersonal relationships, I am focusing more here on man – woman relationship. I keep saying that I respect my partner and he respects me. What do I mean by this?

If as an adult I have to explain this to a youngster how would I do it?
This is to my young cousins who are just stepping into their twenties and are looking at the opposite sex in wondrous ways.

I think, respect is nothing but being aware of and accepting each others boundaries and borders. The ones that can be stretched, the ones that can be overcome and the ones which are non negotiable and stick. Awareness about these and being open and considerate about the other person is respect for me in a nutshell.

Just like we pass from kindergarten to graduation, there will be levels and nuances that we go on learning about the other. Otherwise respect would become a clichéd and revered laundry list of unshakable truths.

My dearest girls please know that when you have a person in your life who is ‘open’ and respects you for what you are, then know how you understand it and by knowing what.

Oh men beware of women we will emasculate you!

A seemingly polished patriarchal funda proposed in a new Hollywood flick interested me a few days ago.

The Funda:
Q: Why men lose interest in their ‘wives/partners’ to have sex, pay attention, to relate to them in a meaningful way etc. ?
A: These days, women are so sure of themselves, they have definite opinions, they are increasingly becoming control freaks, they are highly efficient, they are critical etc. in a nutshell women have become ‘ball breakers’. All these traits of modern women ‘emasculate’ the man and he does not feel like ‘The man’ in the relationship and is almost afraid/intimidated to touch or hold her….

I am not going to debate about the validity/stupidity of the argument or any such thing but share a few things.

1. As soon as there is talk about any bill which will help stop violation of women, there is a debate about how ‘innocent men’ will suffer from it.
2. There is a general belief that ‘sexual harassment’ at workplace happens only in places where people are ignorant.
3. Women get teased, ragged and raped because of their provocative dressing
4. Women who are open about relationships are loose
5. There are men who believe hiring women is a bad idea because they have more ‘personal’ complications and are under productive (pregnancy, children falling sick, safety issues at late hours etc.)
6. Most of all pregnancy prevention aids that are advertised and sold are for women
7. In two focus group discussions with women and men (separate), they were of the opinion that AIDS ‘comes’ because of female sex workers

For a change, wouldn’t it be refreshing if,
• Mainstream movies are made, where women put forward their views on sex, about importance of foreplay and the boredom they feel about ejaculation centeredness of ‘normal’ sex,
• There will be Ads which talk about female and male condoms more and less about injections, tablets, and what not for women
• Men’s underwear ad makers understand: We boil inside when we see half naked men jump for rescue emboldened by their new briefs and feel disgusted by the false image creation of women fawning over him for the same… are you guys nuts?

This list is huge ……

To end this, where is the start?

Strength of a woman

I was feeling all Sylvia plathish and acting wistful like Meena Kumari a bit and spent the afternoon listening to what my mother wrote about her friends and her take on 'strength of a woman'.

Best friend number 1:
She was 8 months younger to my mother and was married to a good catch at that time - A professional working in Bombay, he was handsome and city slick. When the boy came to see her friend (let us call her S) she was made to wear a pink 'city' saree which his sister got with her and her hair style was changed. She was 'approved' and got married. For some years there were stories of S in Bombay, S in Gauhati, S in Patna and the exciting life she was in. She had 3 children by then. At that point of time, my mother was intimated that S was hospitalised due to nervous breakdown and has become totally numb - no emotions, no movement and no interest in any thing. Later on when she visited her, she was better and told my mother that there was nothing to worry. She is moving back to her hometown with kids as the husband is changing cities frequently. This is a plan for children's education. But, her eyes were vacant and hollow. My mother came to know through her father that, S's husband was promiscuous and had married another woman and when confronted, had told S that 'she is not womanly' enough.
I am a childhood friend to her kids and she was a gorgeous woman in a classical sense (big eyes, long straight nose and the works)She never told anybody what happened with her marriage, she worked really hard to bring her kids up, lived most modestly through out her life and died with the secret inside at a young age.

Best friend number 2:
She was my mothers friend from childhood and they loved climbing trees and temple towers together. She was married off at an appropriate age to a respectable family with stable economic status. Years went by without much change and she hit her 40s. My mother heard from some body that her husband had remarried. She was horrified and did not know how to ask her friend. But her friend when they met shared her story thus; "My husband is at fault in this situation, the other woman is young, unmarried and a beautiful woman.Because of my husband, she was thrown out of her house and she lost respect in the village, where will that poor girl go for the fault that both were responsible for? so I told my husband to marry her and bring her home." As a twist in the story, that other woman gave birth to a daughter and died. Mom's friend brought her up as her own and now both of them live together.

Strength to abide by patriarchy and strength to cloak the struggles of the self under patriarchy ..... never the less strength of women then, now and forever...

Mood swings forth and back….

I am thinking these days about my moods and the moods of other people who are around me. Some times I feel like Sylvia Plath with an invisible bell jar over my head. This bubble keeps my thoughts in and distorts the thoughts which are shared by others.

I wonder why sometimes it feels so nice to stay miserable and wallow in self pity (self hate under the cloak may be!) when all I have to do to break it is take a walk or listen to music or cook a nice meal or curl up with ever readable bed side bibles (fried green tomatoes, Bridget Jones diary, Silhoutte romance, peoples magazine or whatever).

There is an invisible thread between people and we call it ‘connection’ or we call it relationship. Mine seems to have broken with many around me. There is a stop gap cork fitting activity called ‘get together to have drinks and dinner with conversation and music’ but it stops after that.

I am in search of my threads which connect me to the wider web of lovely people whose moods are not a swinging.

Romance means what?

The other day I was tempted to take a "Is your marriage as honest as you think" quiz from a women's mag (I wonder why women's mags have these quizzes and mens mags have the toys that boys need to have to get noticed or how big is your bicep or what women think of their body odour ...)

Ok coming back to the quiz, the drift of the questions was,
1. Do you steal from your husbands purse?
2. Do you watch porn when he is not around?
3. Do you think he logs into your e mail account to spy on you?

and it gets better, for all these psychotic questions if your answer is a NO WAY, then the analysis is, " My dear, you are way too honest and candid in this relationship, you need not share so much with him try to loosen up!!!"

I was thinking about what is trust and honesty and what is 'way tooo honest'...

As a young wife 8 years ago, I remember the way romance was between me and the hub dub,
we were thrilled to share the same cupboard and felt happy looking at our clothes together (graon .. I know) and when I fell sick for the first time, my novice husband made maggie noodles because he thought I would like it. I liked it but he made it adding veggies for the next meal thinking I would really like it (Ya I know, but the thought is what counts right?) May be, that was our first fight!

I was away for a week because I was sick (went to mom - Lalitha's warm folds and heaps of freshly made good food). When I came back, the person who took ages to write a sentence, had written two poems and best still he read them out in the night under the moonlight!

Has romance faded over the years? this might be one of the question some body might ask right?...

for my last birthday I was wooed with music, DVDs in the car seat, under the pillow, inside my bag and what not.

He wakes up early invariably every day to make us tea (never expecting that I should do it once in a week at least)

He knows when to order pizza - on those overworked tiring nights

He watches all my girly flicks and never comments on them (some he really liked too!)

He loves my family, he respects people who are important to me and he connects with all spheres of my life.

The man who never cried in any circumstance, wept when my father passed away


His hugs are tight and his eyes are kind.... this is more than enough romance I need

Journey down the memory lane …

What is my very first memory of my big brother???

First memory:
We were in the house where I was born, this is the house where I dutifully took off all the clothes as soon as I was dressed and washed them under the tap! (not in my memory) This is where hari went to the owner’s house and demanded for coffee and this is where akka wore ‘Angora’ sweater. Annayya played a game of slow motion with me. May be I was 3. The game was, we will stand in opposite sides of our front yard, after 1,2,3 we will start saying a n n a y y a a a a a a and c h e l l e m m a a a and do the slow motion run towards each other. The game ends when I collide with him and he holds me up after hugging and kissing me. This memory glows in my mind always.

Second memory:
I think we were in this asbestos sheeted house and may be I was 3 or 4. This was the house where mom and dad made us sleep on the cot and sat with umbrellas in their hand through out the night if it rained…
This is the house where hari and me were obsessed with the song ‘Dapuliwale dapuli bajaaaa, mere gungharoo bulaaathe he aa, some thing something ….
This is the house where akka wrote the story of a grandmother on a slate. This granny traveled encountering what not before she reached the other side of the slate. Her long journey was measured in the chalk dots and a background sound effect by akka tuku, tuku, tuku tuku….

This is the house where annayya decided to teach me to write a,aa,e,ee – (Kannada alphabets), years before I joined School! He was ready and I was ready. I remember him writing 2 letters first, holding my hand and tracing it once or twice and then telling me to go on tracing till the letter became as thick as a Jilebi (I was not supposed to cheat by holding the chalk horizontally). After that he will teach 2 more letters. I remember tracing like mad and going to him every twenty minutes and he started giving 4 letters and then also I went back for more and lo I learnt the alphabets in 1 day!! I am sure this happened because he made me enjoy the learning process. May be the rewards were higher and may be I loved his attention. May be he demystified the ‘learning part’..

Third memory:
We are in this house which had five corners in one hall. My mother thought it was not a good thing (Ai moola kompa!). This is the house where hari and me were given a joint bath with instructions from Naana. He will be sitting on the chair opposite us and told, hari soap your legs properly, aparna face means entire face put more soap etc.
This is where akka had truckloads of friends who streamed in and out of our home in all the waking moments.

Hari and me had range of emotions towards annayya. We were in awe of his physical strength and his brilliance. He was our shining star.
- I waited in the same room when he exercised with pots full of water as weights and his exercise ended with my favourite ritual, he would say that I am his dumb bell and he would lift me up and roll me over his back and pull me up from under his legs. I remember shrieking with joy always.
- Hari and me would beg him to watch while he had his bath. We loved his performance (now I realize how much he tolerated us, always wanting to see him do stuff as if he is a Television set with various channels!!). He would soap his hair (yes, he had lush strait hair then) and tell us stories of monsters with two horns (he would shape 2 horns with his hair), Chinese traveler (with his hair slicked back), angry ram (with spring horns) and what not. After that the bath ended with him lifting a huge green plastic pot full of water and pouring it on his head!! We could not wait for tomorrow
- Hari and me used to sleep in the same bed with our own mosquito curtain. Hari the sweet and gentle soul warmed my bedsheet before I came to sleep by huddling in it (after me snatching his bedsheet saying mine is cold several times). We would sleep and wait for annayya to come to ‘our tent’. After annayya was ready for bed, he would come to our mosquito tent and start the signature music tana tana tan then announce ‘Now friends, you are listening to Navala shravanthi, today you will hear the story of Ivan’ tana tana tan. Then he would start telling us Tolstoy’s stories with great animation and we would be rapt and hang on every word he spoke. After the story ended, amidst our protest the programme ended and we were told to sleep and the door was closed. We would bask in the story and go to blissful sleep.

I think I can write a book about my brother if I have to say everything he has shaped in me. What seeds of thoughts he sowed, what types of imagination he nourished, what in the world he is to me.
Word is not the thing.

Monkey Valley

I got out of the flight and was hoping to see my luggage in the conveyor belt and saw it. I took my luggage and went to the foreign exchange and changed my US Dollars to Rand. I came inside the airport, so many people carrying the placards and none for me! I was thinking what to do then I see a gorgeous woman and a young man coming to me and saying ' you are definitely from India - you look like Aparna to me' and lo and behold that was my pick up. The driver was a guy named Ricky and he immediately took charge of my luggage and said ' let me do this my dear you might be tired' and I was relieved. I tried to sms venky and Ricky was joking and saying 'tell your husband that you are with another man who is paying lot of attention'.... He was indeed a warm flirt he said, ' it takes 45 minutes to reach the place, since I am with a beautiful woman I dont know how long it is going to take, dont blame me if I am lost'... A total flirt he was.
I came to the venue, it was bang opposite Atlantic ocean and I took a shower before I met people, and the wind started again to blow and blow...

I met an Indian girl and a passionate mobile activist during dinner. She was talking about freedom phone and how it connects to people and the costs etc. I was thinking of Thayamma and Lakshmi and the mobile bills..
It is a bit top down place to envision technologies being useful to communities.

I have lost all my humour right now to tell anecdotes. May be the food is the reason.
All my meals are salads and fruits so far. Vegetarian means vegetables (cooked or fresh) and fruits to these people! I am slowly losing my appetite for breakfast, lunch and dinner as it is the same! Hope it is better in Cape Town.

I attended a open exchange forum on spanish poetry tonight. Gabby read the poems. She is a lesbian and she read about her upbringing and her images of love and sex. It was very interesting.
I am signing off with low creative juice in a promise to do better tomorrow!
One more culprit could be the cold. It is so cold, my hands are freezing, my body is in want of warmth and I cant think straight outside the room.
The warming factor is Malevo - the local potent wine - it is divine!

Boeing to Cape Town

I was in this longest flight of my life (nine hours) and since I slept very well in the Dubai hotel, I was wide awake.
This is for Madhavi's (Sorry akkayya) benefit - Everybody's seat has a TV with headphones and we can watch films, TV sitcoms (Yes venky Friends too), listen to music or see how and where the flight is going (impressive isnt it?)
I watched films non stop, drank juice, demanded for my vegetarian meal and had a can of Heineken beer (after seeing old women down two - three bottles of wine!)

Pilot announces in a grave voice - " For your attention passengers, we will be ready to touch down in five minutes, please fasten your seat belts, there will be mild winds, cabin crew will assist you with further safety procedures"
Knowing me you might guess what I thought at that moment.. why should cabin crew assist us and with what safety procedures more than seat belts are necessary? I tried to read the safety brochure - one extra information was 'bend your head forward in case of emergency'... Ok, Any way I decided to look down through and through. Woman next to my seat was sleeping. I looked at her for a while and she said ' dont worry Cape town is always windy, this happens all the time...
I was thinking why should the announcements sound ominous all the time, why cant they be cheerful and connect with people? It is a kind of snobbery right? Imagine two people compeering the flight announcements (Maniakka and Madevanna or Ningi and Siddanna types)
Mani: Anno Gaali badithaithe kananno eevatthuvi,
Madeva:Ye aden parvagilla manyakka iddidde alwa (houdu bidu) hangantha sumkirbedi, belt aakkali, innenara idre eevakkadeeru yoltharappa
Mani: Oudalwa, nam jaagratheli naavidre olledappa yaavatthidru, alwenanna

We had an uneventful landing and I got my luggage without a problem and changed sixty US Dollars to 496 Rands.

Dubai Millennium Airport Hotel:

9 November 2008-11-09

Time: 6.50 pm (Dubai time of course)

Guess what! My first ever international flight was delayed by two hours and I missed my connecting flight to Cape Town by arriving an hour late than the scheduled time. It also means that my luggage made its first international trip without hitches. Lucky cottons! Bet you will be there to meet me 

I was sleeping on my feet when the flight was finally announced in Bangalore. I was proud of myself for fighting my demons. There was a compassionate doctor from London who told me to plug my ears and see the effect it has on my nerves during take off. God bless her sweet soul it was dramatic.
But several things I noticed during my flight…..
Indian hostesses were a bit reluctant to attend to Indian commuters
Frozen breakfast – Though looked good, chilled my fingers and what is the big idea of eating a croissant and Parathas with channa masala for breakfast. Yes I know I am a bit stuck up on my food preferences .. anything above room temperature is fine I think.

More or less everybody who took the Bangalore Dubai flight was stranded for the day. I met a woman who was flying for the first time to meet her son’s family in US. There was a busy guy from UNDP who made his busyness very vocal and now I know that he is going to Switzerland and next week he will go to Ghana. He tried to chat up and I was relieved to have some social contact (Human beings – we suck at being on our own all the time!). We realized that we both need to be at the airport next day more or less at the same time. And then he asked casually whether I want to have some coffee. I clammed up immediately and Sridevi’s tear streaked face in ‘Gumrahh” came into my mind (Please trust me, I am innocent, pleaase). So I told him that I need to sleep and then told him that I will see him around and scooted off to my room. (to check how safe it is for me to stay alone!)

The room I am given is a spacious and luxurious double room with all the works. (Oh Venky, I miss you). I was sitting in the restaurant eating ‘Spinach lasagna, rice with vegetable stew and fresh fruit salad (it was organized in fruit shaped expensive crystal bowls seated in ice bed with lighting in strategic places which made it look like fruits from heaven) and I was thinking of the image people might be making of me. I wanted them to think of me as this ‘jet setting busy body of a woman who knows what exactly to eat in their hotel’. But, may be I was looking a bit lost and tired to give that impression (especially not in my wrinkly dress and pink shoes).

I have never looked forward to fly before but right now I am hoping and praying that I will soon fly and be in Cape Town with my fellow feminists from all over the world. Long live pink shoes and purple clothes.

I am trying to watch TV and on offer are music channels from India, one Hollywood film channel (Dubai One) and other Arabic ones. (never did a film promo generate such an effect as today – ‘You think World is a safe place, think AGAIN).

I feel like I am ‘pasted on’ to a travel brochure of Dubai. But, very interesting to be in it right now (no choice here!).

Musings before Cape town travel

The day before I left for Cape Town:

It feels a bit strange, lot exciting and an underlying current of anxiety which is running through all I do right now.

I got warmth and care galore and quite unexpectedly from various quarters. I will list it putting the most unexpected on top,

1. Bala called to wish me luck for the journey and made a date for after I come back !!! ( he is a good friend who lost touch after he got married two years ago)
2. People in the office got together (sneaked and planned to be precise), announced a surprise gathering and gave me a lovely bouquet of roses (all colours!!) and gave me a sweet card which translates to ‘Go in comfort and come back safe, and let everything be good’. This coming from a team which I thought was alien to me a bit either because they feared me or they felt the power difference I don’t know was a fantastic surprise which got tears to my eyes. I cant forget the round of hugs (though groaning a bit inwardly thinking I might be smelling of smoke and caring!)
3. Madhavi organized a party behind my back and we had a lovely time drinking a can of beer and convincing each other that we are not at all anxious! She gave a serious card which stated how anxious and excited she is for me at the same time tried to lighten the mood by giving a ‘sisters are through thick and thin’ type of funny card. A party organized by a ‘almost’ non drinker is a great surprise indeed.
4. Hari Prasad sent a message in his sweet language – ‘Happy Bon Voyage’ and look forward to see you kane,
5. Chin said ‘I am already missing you’ when I was in the bus from Mysore to Bangalore
6. Mom said ‘ I know you are going to be safe because I know Hanumantha the God of wind is with you and I hope you make your country proud’
7. Venky ( the husband) shopped till we drop with me and I have not heard no from him for anything, ‘venky this is a nice dress but it is very expensive’ and he said ‘please go ahead and buy it, I insist you buy it because you need to have this for your trip’ .. this is the manthra for everything so far
8. Kavi went to my office and spent one and a half hours collecting my stuff, and made sure that I am well groomed and my luggage is well packed before I left. She is a warm soul.
God, at some point it feels like I am writing to acknowledge what everybody did before I get into the plane (where what all might happen or not happen)…
I might feel very silly reading this ‘emotional’ account in fifteen days from now (after I am firmly back in my home town Mysore and in my home with Venky dear). But, I feel like this right now, so let me out with it..

Gender sensitivity and Bhuvi

Bhuvi is my 6 year old niece. She introduced a new game of 'make believe grinding'. We were sitting on the bed and we dutifully did the motion of grinding for a while (traditional Indian way where the right hand makes a big circle on the ground and with left hand grains are put into the small slot). I tried to talk to her and this conversation followed.

Me: Bhuviamma what are you grinding?
(I was playing my childhood game of 'acting like adults')

Bhuvi: What are YOU grinding?

(obviously she had not played this game before)

Me: I am grinding for Idli
(After I said this, I became aware of the gendered conversation I was building where women were sitting and doing all the work etc. etc. and I asked her kicking myself inwardly)

Me: What are you grinding?

Bhuvi: She took a pause and I thought 'oh no she is going to say Dosa now'.
After the pause, she said ....

'I am grinding WORMS'

Whew the damage was not done :-)

Perspectives... are they changeable like shirts..

I have often heard people say that 'some thing is some thing when seen in some perspective'....
I know this can become potentially boring rhetoric but recently I am caught in this dilemma. I gave my resignation letter. And of course I had my valid reasons from 'my perspective'. There is a process of renegotiation happening right now and things are put to me in a 'different perspective', so what happens to mine now? what happens to the management's? If there are no new perspectives emerging then this is a win lose situation. Do I want to do that? NO I wont.
So ultimately do we mean 'opinion' when we are saying 'perspective'? Opinion is subjective and demands the person to own it, perspective puts it in a broader and general universe, but ultimately what is it ...

Naanna will always be my Naanna

So many things happened between my last post and now. I lost my Naanna ....
I dont want to write anecdotes about him and I dont want him to become a story ..
I miss the smell of snuff on Chinnu's ears when I kiss it ...
I miss the rough stubbly cheek I kissed often ...

Unsung Heroines

Parvathi:

I always felt proud that Thikkavva (Mad granny) was there during my birth. I have heard so many disjointed stories about her, regaling in how mad she was, she was this and that... What I came to know over the years make me feel like I am digging into the past of a radical feminist. She was far ahead of her times ..

She was my grandfather's sister (mother's father). Her story as I know through my mother ...
She was born at seven months after 3 still births,…She was rolled in cotton, placed amidst Castor leaves and was fed through cotton swabs soaked in her mother's milk. This went on till she gained weight and seemed like a human baby. She was 14 when she was married off to Grama Purohit of Alampur Taluk. He was a rich man with 250 acres of land. In her days of glory, it is said that she had different jewelery for different days of the week (Yedu vaaraala sommu) and her hair was adorned with golden leaves that could be fastened to the length of the plait. When she gave birth to her first child, her husband ordered lorry loads of flowers for decoration of the house. Sadly none of her two off springs survived.

She became a widow when she was 20. Husband succumbed to 'medicine less illness'. By the time her parents got the news of the tragedy and went there, her head was already sheared, she was wearing red Saree covering her bald head. Her mother in law who was the picture of greed took hold of all the jewelery and showed some relative as the adopted son and tried to get all the property.

My grandfather entered the scene, had a fair idea of the law and registered a case on behalf of her. Warangal court gave decision in her favour and she got all her property over the years.

My grandfather suggested that she adopt a boy and he will be her support in her old age as well as he can take care of the property as he grows up. He volunteered to take care of the land till then.
She was a well read woman for her times and was not a believer of traditions. She was against adoption for the sake of security and asked my grandfather to maintain the property for her. As this thought clashed with his value system, he was adamant that she adopt and convinced her some how for that.

She would have been any other forgotten woman if she had followed what was expected out of her, content while rearing her boy, being of assistance in all the ceremonies in the near and far relative circles, blending in the background, being the last to eat in auspicious occasions...

Instead.....
She decided to venture out of the safe heaven of her Street (Which is till today called 'The -------caste Street) and into the Pataan geri full of muslims, into SC colony, wherever she went people were stunned and welcomed her with awe. She started going there and started talking to the men,women and children. She spoke to them about sending their children to school, counselled pregnant women to go to hospitals, scolded drunk men. They revered her presence.
She woke up at the wee hours of the morning to make a huge flask full of coffee, carried it to the Govt. hospital general ward, where the poor relatives of patients from far off places used to be. She was the friendly localite with a smile on her face, lending friendly ear to their woes and serving them hot coffee. Her presence was a balm for many souls.

Everybody thought if she is doing these outrageous things, then surely she is mad! She got the prefix to her name 'Mad' at this period and she knew it. There was a huge dam construction project taken up by the Govt. which would have submerged the town. Govt. offered resettlement lands and monetary benefits. My grandfather decided to fight against Govt. as the town is a historically important place with ancient temples and Scriptures. He was doing signature campaigns, strikes and applying for stay order in court etc.

She started making up catchy songs about the horrors of losing the town and how the lives are going to be affected. She walked through out the town and nearby villages singing. If people showed interest, then spoke about what is going to happen, generated lot of interest and support for the anti project efforts.
She never minced her words and was periodically angry at my grandfather for making her adopt. Some say instead she wished to be remarried.

When I was born, she came to be with my mother and help. Once my father remarked how come this dish tastes like this? And she told him, this is the only way I know to cook, if you want it better, you can cook yourself. My mom says only for my birth, my father took a long leave of absence from his work. I wonder why :-)

I remember her smell of Vibuthi and Camphor. Though she is not supposed to touch anybody till her bed time, she never hesitated to touch and kiss us.

She died when she was 75…..


Kamala:

She was the daughter of RajaVaidya of Gadwal province. She was born during the British Raj. She was an exceptional beauty with a hint of a blue in her eyes. People always turned their heads to look at her. She was married off when she was 8 years old. She had not attained menarchy so was still at her parents house and in a year she was told that her husband died and she is a widow now. She was 9.

Relatives started asking her parents to send her for ceremonies and functions. She came to Alampur on a visit to her uncle's house. She stayed on helping them. The sight of a waifish beauty in her teens carrying huge pots of water from the river became familiar in the street.

Ramakrishna was one of the idealistic freedom fighter who was stationed at Alampur to help settle his sister's property dispute. He used to wake up at 4 in the morning and used to do Yoga in the Thungabadra river bed. He always wondered about this girl who fetched water endlessly in such huge pots.

She always observed this man who did strange Aasanas so early in the morning.

One day, she was walking home with a pot of water, a horse driven carriage comes and stands next to her, a stranger climbs out and asks her “Do you know Ramakrishna?” She says yes I have seen him and I know about him. The stranger tells her, “Ramakrishna sent us to tell you that he wishes to marry you”, Kamala is all flustered and does not know what to say, and the stranger continues “he wishes to marry you TODAY, so if you are in agreement then you come with us in the carriage, if not he completely understands and will never trouble you again”.
She stood there for how long and thought about what all I don't know......
She went in the carriage and married the intriguing man on that very day!

Oh by the way she is my grandmother... I wouldn't be here writing this if she did not go in that carriage that day :-)

How much is enough?

Dont we all know and agree to all these sayings?

1. Money does not buy happiness
2. You can never buy happiness with money
3. Money is the root of all evil
...........................................

So what are we being conditioned to?
Money is also one of the moral taboos. Let us switch the word money with sex and see...

1. Sex does not buy/give happiness
2. You can never buy/get happiness with sex
3. Sex is the root of all evil

.........................................
Now can we see all our parents nodding in agreement !!

This I am thinking, after being in the development sector for a little over than half a decade....
Why do I feel like giving an explanation for asking for a raise?

We the so called 'modern people' say sex is the most misunderstood thing and advocate sexuality workshops for all and sundry to really understand and express it. Yep our parents are not liking it but...

Why does money become a taboo?
You want it then you are a mercenary
If you dont want it , then you are not settled, you are idealistic and your head is in the cloud!

We were in Andhra in a community. Then we had the luxury of living in a place surrounded by hills and showered by stars in the night. Great community dinners around campfire were regular features of life. Each month, we bought stuff like Hurricane lanterns - 2 (1 for kitchen, 1 for living room), mosquito net (for warding off dropping scorpions and snakes) 1 powerful torch - for going and coming back from the common loo with life inside the body....

Our dream break was to go to a city and watch TV like crazy:-D
We were happy as happy can be!
Though we were paid pittance in comparison to cities, we were the highly paid couple according to the local norms !
It did not take away the fun having a leftist, beedi smoking, rebel for a bozz who forgot my name often in the presence of his wife!

What am I rambling about?

We definitely have moralistic views about money...
And I am trying to condition myself out of this view....

our siren'dhri

Malli means,

1. The meow that sounds like a siren - When pouncing on our legs for milk in the morning and when running out of her fav shelf to greet us in the evening,
2. Colourful fur ball on the kitchen mat,
3. Four gentle paws sneaking on top of my tummy in the night,
4. A question: How can such a tiny tummy hold so many loads of shit?
5. A noise inside the laundry box
6. Paper balls a go flying
7. A Toe grabber
8. Sorry figure sitting and waiting on the compund wall
9. Death of everything that moves
10. Massage under the neck
11. Wardrobe doors are always open
12. Cat haters are tranformed
13. A leap,a jump and a flash of tail
14. Purrrrrrrrrrrr
15. Noiseless meow and touchless embrace,

This is how it started decades ago ..

Wonderland: (1994)

My wonderland was Grandma’s Kitchen,

So many shiny utensils,

Various stoves,

The scent of strong coffee,

Delicious things cooking continuously,

It was so alive!!

She was like a witch,

Desperate on preparing her

Priced Concoction…

Mother’s kitchen is more

Organised and tidy,

Cooks fried rice and channa batura,

Takes time and watches,

Santa Barbara in between

Cooker whistles

Seems happy but sometimes appears

Like an exhausted Goddess,

I am sure my own wonderland

Would be different

With efficient gas burners,

Oven, grinder, food processor,

Time saving recipes and

A man to share the burden,

But, on hearing it,

Why is the witch laughing and

The goddess amused??

Home is where the tongue fits ….

We were in Anantapur District for almost two years. Memories of bright and harshly sunny days come immediately to my mind.

The other pictures are of people bubbling with wit and a song on their lips.

People taking pride in their stoicism with respect to harsh living conditions and CHILLIES chillies and more chillies. I remember Rebecca sharp from Thackeray’s Vanity Fair. She thinks chillies are something which really taste how they sound ‘chilling to the mouth’… and eats a handful and sees the stars!!

One needs to go through an unwritten and an untold secret ritual before really establishing themselves as friends. You are served a highly spicy dish and your reactions are observed. The amount of ease and discomfort is evaluated. Did you shed a pint of tears or had half a liter of water running out of your nose, or did you disappear behind the cloud of smoke coming out of your ears or were you unperturbed and asked for more reveals your status with them. The initial reactions involving various organs going on RED ALERT will bring on a smirk and you will be cast as this eternal softie who lacks the strength and vigour to survive and if you ask for more, you are immediately one of the gang and you will get back thumping welcome to the inner society. You get to hear choicest cuss words, incredible stories about people who vanished from this earth after attempting to take the test and all the torrid details of everything you might not want to know….

I am writing this obviously because I belong to the exclusive inner society. I can never forget the day when I went with one of the fellows to document a Hill watchers committee meeting on one of the hills near Roddam. It was unlike any other meeting I had attended so far. There were seven scrawny windblown wiry men in their mid thirties reviewing their monthly activities. How many kilometers each was covering, how many saplings each had to water, status of each sapling – alive, dead and reasons, along with the animals harming the plants in the night. Strategies for reduction of damage caused by animals, and protection of saplings were discussed along with the new activity in preparation for summer – Firebreaks to protect the greenery from accidental fires was discussed. After the meeting, we stayed back to enjoy the view and the fellow ‘chiller’ takes me to see an incredibly shady tree and pulls out a pot kept well hidden in the shades. It was full of tender toddy turning alcoholic by the minute…. We sat there enjoying the fragrant and smooth elixir. .. Feeling each drop of toddy uniting us with the universal spirit and enlightening us about the meaning of life…

Now that the secret is out, if at all you pass by this region, you know why you were treated the way you were treated…

CHILL out and BELONG

What is this blogging business

This is such a pressure to write ...
Why should the first post has to be of the booker prize quality?

Just thoght I would start writing something again and now it feels like vainly exposing my diary to public !!

Ok
The deed is done and hope there will be something new and interesting in the coming days in this blog...