Alive and kicking

Here I am, at the end of another year.. Years seem to just fly past. And the worst they do is increment your age as it goes.

Here’s wishing the world a happy new year 2010.

I shall keep this blog quite active in 2010. My first and perhaps only resolution that I’ve thought of so far.

My musical journey – Ri

My mother’s Thiruppugazh friend, Anna maami suggested I can learn with her kids. Sundaresh mama came to teach them. I went with my book to their house.

Sundaresh mama was a thin guy in his late 20s appearing for this senior exam in music. I didn’t know all this back then and it amused me to find a male teacher. I went to a school where all the teaching staff was female. I don’t remember much of his face or voice. I remember only V and S (daughters of Anna maami) teaching me to apply beetroot to my lips to make it look like I’d worn lipstick. At that age, I thought it was ultra cool.

Fine, so getting back to my lessons – I started from the very beginning. And went upto tharastaayi. This is the point where the teacher relocated to Chennai.

And so ended my tryst with the second guru leaving me back to square one.

My musical journey – Sa

It all began with G Chithi, who recognised that my voice was good and I can sing well..all this while I was 4 years old. She also taught me sa ri ga ma pa dha ni sa, and then gave up, going back to the suggestion that I needed a teacher.

My search for music teachers began there. After pestering my parents for another couple of years, they decided to find somebody who could teach me. My neighbours, 2 girls 10 years older than me were learning and their teacher would be willing to teach me. Enquiries were made, parents met her and I was ready to begin. Yippee.. I went along with the girls. The teacher insisted I call her aunty and that I need to drink milk and eat biscuits before I went to the class. It still beats me why she was so particular. She would enquire about it every class and if the answer was not affirmative, she would give me a cup of milk with 2 Parle-G biscuits.

As I started off with sa, pa, sa and later graduated to the ’sa ri ga ma’, she kept asking me to follow Shruthi. I didn’t know which of the other girls were Shruthi. I kept looking at the teacher if she could point out who Shruthi is so that I can synchronise my voice with hers. Her eyegaze focussed on the tanpura on her lap didn’t help much. After a month, I gathered courage to ask the girls who Shruthi was and they burst out laughing while I grinned sheepishly. One of the sisters, the kinder soul explained to me that it’s the harmony, and the sync is with the note of the tanpura amidst giggles.

Well, by the time I started out with janti varisai, my music teacher got married and relocated. I was forced to look for another guru.

Food in email attachments

Transport and communication: We see advancements in the two and it was once said that it is a race between the two. The one that wins would put the other out of business.

Well, to the real world now. Have you ever thought of how painful it is to drive long distances to get good food? Or the times when you’re working and so hungry that you wish food came to you?

Here is the Winvention you want (Winvention = Wonder Invention, I coined the term a couple of years ago)

What you do is – attach food like an email attachment and mail it across to the recipient. This can work in restaurants, fast food joints and also from your home.

Tangle..

Well, I must confess I think abstract many times. Which is why I can relate very well to every abstract post of Gaizabonts. And here is my first attempt at putting it across.

One likes to ignore the tangle. The complex web of intricate relationships, discords and disagreements. When one refuses to admit there’s a web, it’s easy to deal with it.  Go around it in a old deserted house as if it has to be there to complete it.

And there is disharmony only when one makes an attempt to untangle it, to break the cobwebs. The attempt to eliminate disharmony contributes to creating it. Or it makes one painfully aware that it was present and the aspect you tried to ignore is real. It removes the option of escaping. The safe and secure cocoons are shattered, just like the person who tried to untangle it.

Withering warmth

Somehow, the onset of holidays and vacation is not bringing the kind of joy that I expected. This is a personal post. Pretty pensive.

This post is dedicated to all people who once shared something deep and real called friendship. And the very same who have drifted far.

Yes, this includes you who just sends a mail why there’s no post on the blog for sometime. This also includes you with whom I have restricted conversations because we have different viewpoints on things. Also includes you who cites being very busy when I remind you of no phone calls. It also includes you who were my Friday lunch partner to try out all the restaurants in the area. And to go to Bengloor Habba and other places at the drop of a hat. To try out all whacky things. To make pledges to go bungee jumping.

This includes you all with whom I discuss all my plans for a road trip and for every 10 such intense plannings, one happens. All the reply-all mails with fun and frolic.

Life has lost its charm without all of you. The morning is a little less chirpy because your absence is felt. Our real and mock fights are substituted with a polite and diplomatic – How are you? Howz life?

The shopping till the last penny and thinking if we can afford to pay up when the credit card bill arrives and giggling about the whole thing is replaced with careful consideration and saying no. Well, wisdom, you see.

Your Good morning mails that used to arrive everyday and I’d taken for granted is now so so rare that I’ve given up even expecting it anymore. Missing the fight over the samosa where we used to call each other expletives for not being able to lay hands on the third samosa and eat everything like pigs..or say piglets?

Missing the privilege of pulling people out of cube where they’re doing something very urgent and important just because you want to drink juice and chatting for over an hour. More than everything, missing the liberty I’ve taken with all of you.

Fought with my inhibition of posting anything personal just because it makes me vulnerable. There’s just no point appearing strong when something inside wants the lost beauty and is hurting.

Mumbai in terror grip

All crises, however brutal is out there happening to somebody else while we shake our head in disbelief, express shock and still carry on with what we do always. When it happens to us, it seems unfair that nobody cares and the world is still busy haggling prices, cooking, eating out, and doing things normal that seems so unbearable.

While the enemy is out there garnering people, nurturing them to a common objective, even inculcating the feeling of purpose beyond personal life; here we are totally scattered. All that we offer is a word of mouth sympathy.

Is it so hard to identify with the pain and loss felt by hundreds of our countrymen living in the city paralysed with fear and living life with uncertainty? Do you remember the moments in life when you felt totally isolated and helpless? Loss of a loved one? Failing miserably in something? Losing all you have? What those people feel is much deeper and much more impact bearing than all that!

What do we do? How do we counteract? What is required? People sit up, take notice. What is required to go one step or ten steps forward? And reverse it? If it’s somebody else  today, it could be you tomorrow. And every time you leave things unchecked, it grows stronger with each victory.

I wish there was an answer.. just wish there was a way out.. When everything else is lost, hope remains. Let the hope for a safe and secure tomorrow never diminish. Let it glow bright in any human mind.

What to do? What to do?

Search for a co-worker : When people come searching for your neighbour and ask you if you know where he/she is, get up seriously, go over to the cube, look under the table and announce – “Your game is over. They’ve come for you”

Hide people’s footwear : Go sneak behind somebody who has their feet up and relaxing, grab one footwear and hide it. When they go to search it, sing jhoota ho ya chappal, aakhir kho hi jaata hai..

Ask if the phone line is working: and do this loudly. Announce aloud – phone line is not ok. It’s not connecting any calls and wait to listen to a bunch of people around you checking their phone.

Name the objects in your cube: Did you know that your phone is happier when you call it Tringa, laptop, keyboard all need names. Come on, how else would you differentiate between yours and somebody else’s when there is a dispute. clear your throat and say – my headphones respond to the name – sangeetha. And have everyone roll their eyes over when Sangeetha hops onto your head and dispute is settled. Of course, in your favour, silly.

Sort your cupboard with emotions: Look at the unwanted papers like looking at an era gone by, clutch it closely before deciding to toss it out. Shake your head, close your eyes and toss it in the bin. Full authentic.

Count your square feet of space: Do you know how much space you inhabit? And if you didn’t know, you inhabit this space for 1/3rd of your life. You ought to know.

A still reverie..

Visions of blue and green
Soft music reminisce a dream

Tread paths on grass disappear
The aroma of capuccino to linger

Charm, beauty and glory bid adieu
Fragrances dissipate, taking the cue

Frozen, yet strong not to perish
Lives on in the heart as a wish

Well, read on.. This is the preface..

I am bored. With a capital B. Totally, insanely bored. Had a deadline and was extremely busy for 2 months with time for nothing and here, I am. Wondering suddenly what to do with all the free time.

Well, since I made do with a lot of cereal, curd rice and the likes of it, I decided to indulge my taste buds and prepare something yummy. Well, me a good cook, of course. Made some decent noodles, albeit a with a little extra sauce and ran out of patience while making gobi manchurian that I ate the deep fried cauliflower florets and convinced myself they were much better than the end product anyways. Next day I goofed up in making Hyderabadi biriyani – it lacked the spice and tasted so bland. The “baby potatoes in spicy gravy” had a generous amount of salt that didn’t whet either my appetite or my culinary inclination. So, end of using the kitchen to kill boredom.

I guess I know what I’m going to do. Write a book. Yes, of course. Write a book. There’s been no bestseller of late and I want to give the random people at a party some juice for conversation.

Fella 1: Hey.. Have you read Aurora’s new book?
Fella 2: Oh.. This is not her first one?? Interesting!  I’ve wasted so many years of life not reading such genius work. Sigh!

Some excerpts from my book. It’s titled “Life, living it and loving it” Arre Waah. I’m a genius or what? I thought of that title in less than a second.

Coming back, the book will have interesting chapters about everything you wanted to know to live your life and at the same time, lurrrve it.

Chapter 1: Walking the talk in the park no matter how much dogs bark
Chapter 2: Preparing healthy breakfast that’ll make you run so fast
Chapter 3: Getting to work on time and drinking juice made of lime

To know the other chapters and to book a copy of the book, please leave a comment. I’ll tell you how you can order it with a huge discount and also be invited to the release of the book.

See you all there..