I was lost in the glorious plans for the upcoming weekend and I suddenly heard a piercing shriek followed by maniacal laughter! It took me not more than a moment to realize what had transpired out in the hall in my absence. Our infamous, unwanted, uninvited, undesirable guest was back to spoil another beautiful evening!
Before you become judgmental and wonder against whom I was harboring such strong feelings let me tell you about this "Visitor" that we have been receiving. Its a black, scaly, ugly & smelly BAT (the last adjective is a matter of fact and not my deduction by having smelt it. Yes, you read that right, a tiny but a punctual bat, swooping inside the house at around 6:30 pm every evening and has us running helter-skelter in whichever non-bat direction we can find.
All those Batman fans out there, dont get me wrong.Batman sure is hot but bats are soooo not! When the bat is around, its a very funny and crazy sight that an outsider gets to see. The three of us (me & my cousins) are crouching with hands over our heads on the sofa more like we are stuck on a battlefield or are watching a scary movie than actually trying to ward off the bat.
The entertaining part of this comes when the bat swoops low over our head and that sets off Shru like we set off a live bomb over her head, she shrieks loudly enough to cross the thresholds of human hearing and enter the ones of dogs and BATS!This is funny and terrifying at the same time, Shru's antics being the funny side of it.I and Amri wud laugh our head off at that till that caused the bat to swoop back again in the room.
As if all this wasnt enough, Amri came up with the stupid idea to run around the house screaming 'Bat' at the top of her voice and you guessed right! Cause Shru to yell again! But there's more to it as this caused another bat to come swooping in! Like one bat was not enough, we had two on our hands now! More precisely over our heads!! I had to use an umbrella one late night, as a shield to duck behind, when I had to go out alone to turn off the lights(in the hall and run quickly back to the room and shut the door close) as our visitor had decided to come in late that evening.
Things did not improve over 3 days and one evening we '3 cowards'decided to ask our maid to rid us of this peril! Up she came to our home(probably laughing silently at our cowardice) and armed herself to face the enemy! Her weapon of choice was of course the most favoured weapon of all Indian women! The jhadoo/broomstick. The poor bat stood no chance against that. One swipe and we thot she had it! But she had missed, and after some running around the house she chased one out. The other flew to the room upstairs(which we found had been their roosting spot as some one had forgotten to close the open window above) and she chased that out too.
The excitement now mellowed we resumed our work, I all the time wondering if we would see a second of that visit. Which we did and it was a repeat of all the shrieking and laughing till the visits finally stopped thanks to the closed window!
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
K-PAX : The mind game
If you are wondering that it must be a write up or review of the movie K-PAX, relax! I am not going to bore you with the details. Its the thought process that the movie triggered that I am going to talk about now. For those of you, who have not seen the movie, the storyline is about an inmate(Kevin Spacey playing the role of Prote) of a lunatic asylum, who believes he is an alien of planet K-PAX and has come down to earth for a short duration. His psychiatrist's(Jeff Bridges plays Dr.Mark Powell) quest is to get Prote out of the illusion that he a resident of planet K-PAX. As Dr.Powell delves deep into the mystery of this man Prote, he comes face to face with the horrific past of his patient.
Turns out, a parolee out of the prison gets into Kevin Spacey's house and what starts out as a robbery, ends with Spacey's wife and daughter getting killed in the process. Spacey reaches home to see not only the bodies but the killer too present. Like a crazed man he ends up killing the murderer and tries to drown himself in the river, not being able to stand the agony of the deaths of two people he loved the most.
But, is instead, washed down the river with no memory of his former life. His claim now, is that he is an alien from the planet K-PAX in a distant constellation and has come down only to help his friend Robert(Spacey's original personality), who calls out to him in times of crisis. Now, as is obvious we can predict that Spacey suffers from a case similar to MPD or split personality.But the curious case is that we do not see the original personality of Robert emerge anywhere. There is only the new personality of Prote we get to see.
Now, what set me thinking was how the human mind works. The various intricacies of its working are way beyond me, but it sure does astound me. Its amazing, yet horrifying how it finds a work around for the trauma it encounters which are beyond the endurance of the body. We have all, at some time or the other experienced the deep shock of some unfortunate event in life where we are numbed by the situation. In case of physical incidents/accidents, its the body that numbs, leading to a weird calm that helps cope with the situation at hand, ensuring we don't get hysterical or lose our insanity. But when its an emotional trauma that is getting us bogged down, the mind tends to go into a limbo(not the actual limbo state, that would make us comatose), helping us to deal with the crisis when it gets beyond the body's limit to deal with the same. Its an amazing mechanism that lets the mind take over the body and deal with the situation at hand, with or without us realizing that.
But what happens when the trauma is so intense that the person is unable to identify with his real self and ends up identifying with another temporary personality that has been created by the mind/brain to ensure the person's sanity while dealing with the issue? Is there any way by which we can get the real personality back or in the least help the person realize about the problem without endangering their situation any further? Thats a question that will need some reading/research on my part, probably years of understanding too. But it does make for a good hobby to indulge in. There's a lot more to the layers of the mind than meets the eye.
Turns out, a parolee out of the prison gets into Kevin Spacey's house and what starts out as a robbery, ends with Spacey's wife and daughter getting killed in the process. Spacey reaches home to see not only the bodies but the killer too present. Like a crazed man he ends up killing the murderer and tries to drown himself in the river, not being able to stand the agony of the deaths of two people he loved the most.
But, is instead, washed down the river with no memory of his former life. His claim now, is that he is an alien from the planet K-PAX in a distant constellation and has come down only to help his friend Robert(Spacey's original personality), who calls out to him in times of crisis. Now, as is obvious we can predict that Spacey suffers from a case similar to MPD or split personality.But the curious case is that we do not see the original personality of Robert emerge anywhere. There is only the new personality of Prote we get to see.
Now, what set me thinking was how the human mind works. The various intricacies of its working are way beyond me, but it sure does astound me. Its amazing, yet horrifying how it finds a work around for the trauma it encounters which are beyond the endurance of the body. We have all, at some time or the other experienced the deep shock of some unfortunate event in life where we are numbed by the situation. In case of physical incidents/accidents, its the body that numbs, leading to a weird calm that helps cope with the situation at hand, ensuring we don't get hysterical or lose our insanity. But when its an emotional trauma that is getting us bogged down, the mind tends to go into a limbo(not the actual limbo state, that would make us comatose), helping us to deal with the crisis when it gets beyond the body's limit to deal with the same. Its an amazing mechanism that lets the mind take over the body and deal with the situation at hand, with or without us realizing that.
But what happens when the trauma is so intense that the person is unable to identify with his real self and ends up identifying with another temporary personality that has been created by the mind/brain to ensure the person's sanity while dealing with the issue? Is there any way by which we can get the real personality back or in the least help the person realize about the problem without endangering their situation any further? Thats a question that will need some reading/research on my part, probably years of understanding too. But it does make for a good hobby to indulge in. There's a lot more to the layers of the mind than meets the eye.
Monday, July 5, 2010
The Terrace Monster
This happened a few years ago when I was in school. We were getting the first floor of our house constructed and it was half way completed, with only the basic framework of the walls and roof done.
One windy evening, our neighbor Manjula akka came up to our house looking a little scared. On asking her the reason, she exclaimed that she had apparently seen a monster (dyavva, in our local gul lingo) up on our terrace. We scoffed at the silly idea and told her she must have seen some laborer walking on the terrace and let her imagination run wild. She was adamant that she really had seen something huge and moving about on the terrace. She insisted that we come up to her place and take a look as it was clearly visible from her front door. Try as we might we could not convince her that it might be some worker. But then we remembered that all the workers had left for the day as it was quite late in the evening for them to continue their work in the dark. We assumed it might be somebody else taking a stroll on the terrace for there was a cool breeze in the evening. She mentioned that she initially had the same idea and had called out to that person on the terrace (thinking it might have been either my Dad or me) but there was no response from the person on the terrace and she suddenly had seen the thing/ person roll about very close to the edge of the terrace.
Now me and my aunt were really curious as to who would be wandering (or more precisely rolling about) up on the terrace. We decided to take a look and see what or who really was up there. My active imagination took over me and I decided that it would be a thief up there waiting for everyone to go to sleep, so that he could break into the house and make off with all the valuables. Well, I wasn’t going to let that happen, was I? I, who read the mystery stories and adventures of Famous Five, Hardy boys, Nancy Drew would catch this thief (if there was a thief).
So brimming with this self confidence we all went to her place to take a look at her so called monster. It was pretty dark on our terrace and we being in the light of her house could not really see anything at first. Then a little while later, we could see something huge move about on the terrace. It was a little too big to be anything human and rolled strangely, almost inhumanly. I felt really queasy, it was not the thief as I had imagined or even remotely human. As we kept staring at it, I transfixed at the strange sight and my aunt curiously, there was a gust of wind which set the monster rolling and we see our culprit clearly. We burst out laughing, because what we had presumed to be an inhuman thing was in fact inhuman and non-living too. It was a huge plastic bucket which had somehow gotten entangled with a big cement bag and ended up looking like a huge bulky person (or dyavva) as my neighbor had claimed.
I have a good laugh every time I remember this incident and my over active imagination running wild and conjuring up non-existent thief and monster. So much for reading the various mysteries and thinking I could be like one of those characters!!!
One windy evening, our neighbor Manjula akka came up to our house looking a little scared. On asking her the reason, she exclaimed that she had apparently seen a monster (dyavva, in our local gul lingo) up on our terrace. We scoffed at the silly idea and told her she must have seen some laborer walking on the terrace and let her imagination run wild. She was adamant that she really had seen something huge and moving about on the terrace. She insisted that we come up to her place and take a look as it was clearly visible from her front door. Try as we might we could not convince her that it might be some worker. But then we remembered that all the workers had left for the day as it was quite late in the evening for them to continue their work in the dark. We assumed it might be somebody else taking a stroll on the terrace for there was a cool breeze in the evening. She mentioned that she initially had the same idea and had called out to that person on the terrace (thinking it might have been either my Dad or me) but there was no response from the person on the terrace and she suddenly had seen the thing/ person roll about very close to the edge of the terrace.
Now me and my aunt were really curious as to who would be wandering (or more precisely rolling about) up on the terrace. We decided to take a look and see what or who really was up there. My active imagination took over me and I decided that it would be a thief up there waiting for everyone to go to sleep, so that he could break into the house and make off with all the valuables. Well, I wasn’t going to let that happen, was I? I, who read the mystery stories and adventures of Famous Five, Hardy boys, Nancy Drew would catch this thief (if there was a thief).
So brimming with this self confidence we all went to her place to take a look at her so called monster. It was pretty dark on our terrace and we being in the light of her house could not really see anything at first. Then a little while later, we could see something huge move about on the terrace. It was a little too big to be anything human and rolled strangely, almost inhumanly. I felt really queasy, it was not the thief as I had imagined or even remotely human. As we kept staring at it, I transfixed at the strange sight and my aunt curiously, there was a gust of wind which set the monster rolling and we see our culprit clearly. We burst out laughing, because what we had presumed to be an inhuman thing was in fact inhuman and non-living too. It was a huge plastic bucket which had somehow gotten entangled with a big cement bag and ended up looking like a huge bulky person (or dyavva) as my neighbor had claimed.
I have a good laugh every time I remember this incident and my over active imagination running wild and conjuring up non-existent thief and monster. So much for reading the various mysteries and thinking I could be like one of those characters!!!
Saturday, March 27, 2010
How I discovered BBH
A few years ago I had a chance to read "The Bourne Identity" by Robert Ludlum. The critics review promised it to be a good read at the least and un-put-down-able at the most. That sparked my curiosity and I ended up, reading it over the next few days. Boy!! Were the critics right!! The story of an amnesiac Jason Bourne proved to be some story! As I discovered the true identity of Jason Bourne as a certain David Webb, an undercover CIA agent, brought in to bring down an international criminal Carlos, the plot turned all the more interesting and the novel ended. Now for the rest of the plot I had to read part 2 and 3 of the trilogy series, Bourne Supremacy & Ultimatum, which unfortunately I did not have at the time.
So I set off on my ritual shopping around Commercial Street, MG and Brigade road (I did that every semester vacation, spent in Bangalore). In my search, I finally ended up on Church Street, stopping at every street hawker's display of books in hope of finding those 2 novels. I finally struck gold when I discovered an old second/third hand copy of Bourne Ultimatum among those displayed. Now all I needed was the Supremacy, to complete the trilogy. But to my dismay I found out that even he did not have the book. It made no sense to read Ultimatum without the continuity of Supremacy, so giving it a try again I inquired if he knew of another seller where I might find a copy. To this he took a card out and handing it to me told me that further down the road was a certain book shop where I might find it. The card read “Blossom Book House”, and I thought to myself that it might turn out to be one of those expensive, pricy places.
Walking into the shop I was proved right, the books all stood in their hard bound covers and appeared way beyond my limited budget for the novel. The shopkeeper, looking at my perplexed expression inquired what I was looking for and directed me to the first floor where I would find it. Having been taught by mom and dad, that books are always a good investment I went to the first floor preparing myself for an expensive buy.
The sight that met my eyes, struck me dumb (Now that’s a difficult thing to happen since I almost always have something to say and very few things have the power to incapacitate my power of speech)!! But there I was, like I said “Dumbstruck, Awestruck, and all other of kinds of struck”! There were huge towering shelves filled with almost all kinds of books ever written (excuse the exaggeration, but you get the idea), neatly stacked into different sections in several rows. Never had I seen so many books and felt like reading all of them. Of course I had seen lots more in the college library when I happened to wander down there by mistake, but those books in the first place were the reason I avoided going to the library.
Between the racks/shelves were small plastic seats where one could sit and read for sometime before buying the book. There is no disturbance to those who sit and read through the books and are lost among the works of some of the best story tellers of old and recent times, the likes of which include Homer, Shakespeare, Jane Austen, Charlotte Bronte, Emily Bronte, Dan Brown, Robert Ludlum, Frederick Forsythe, Jeffery Archer, Leon Uris, Charles Dickens, Jules Verne, etc and poets like Wordsworth, Milton etc. I stood spellbound in a place where many people start improving their vocabulary.
Looking through the books, I did find Supremacy, but more importantly I had discovered a place which would turn into one of my favorite haunts in the time to come.
There are places much better stocked than this book house but this place has a certain unique-quaint charm to it. Browsing through the books you might come across an old forgotten book printed ages ago, like I found “An essay on criticism” by Alexander Pope (If you have read, The Da Vinci code by Dan Brown, its this person he refers to when he talks about A Pope, a friend of Isaac Newton), printed in 1902 in London and bought by an Indian gentleman in 1904 (I know the year of purchase, as he happened to sign the book with the year). I bought the book purely for its history of around 108 years. Now that’s a really, really long time.
That was how I discovered Blossom book house. Irrelevant of whether one reads or not, this place is worthy of a visit, where you find the latest literature in peaceful co-existence with the historical ones and vice-versa.
So I set off on my ritual shopping around Commercial Street, MG and Brigade road (I did that every semester vacation, spent in Bangalore). In my search, I finally ended up on Church Street, stopping at every street hawker's display of books in hope of finding those 2 novels. I finally struck gold when I discovered an old second/third hand copy of Bourne Ultimatum among those displayed. Now all I needed was the Supremacy, to complete the trilogy. But to my dismay I found out that even he did not have the book. It made no sense to read Ultimatum without the continuity of Supremacy, so giving it a try again I inquired if he knew of another seller where I might find a copy. To this he took a card out and handing it to me told me that further down the road was a certain book shop where I might find it. The card read “Blossom Book House”, and I thought to myself that it might turn out to be one of those expensive, pricy places.
Walking into the shop I was proved right, the books all stood in their hard bound covers and appeared way beyond my limited budget for the novel. The shopkeeper, looking at my perplexed expression inquired what I was looking for and directed me to the first floor where I would find it. Having been taught by mom and dad, that books are always a good investment I went to the first floor preparing myself for an expensive buy.
The sight that met my eyes, struck me dumb (Now that’s a difficult thing to happen since I almost always have something to say and very few things have the power to incapacitate my power of speech)!! But there I was, like I said “Dumbstruck, Awestruck, and all other of kinds of struck”! There were huge towering shelves filled with almost all kinds of books ever written (excuse the exaggeration, but you get the idea), neatly stacked into different sections in several rows. Never had I seen so many books and felt like reading all of them. Of course I had seen lots more in the college library when I happened to wander down there by mistake, but those books in the first place were the reason I avoided going to the library.
Between the racks/shelves were small plastic seats where one could sit and read for sometime before buying the book. There is no disturbance to those who sit and read through the books and are lost among the works of some of the best story tellers of old and recent times, the likes of which include Homer, Shakespeare, Jane Austen, Charlotte Bronte, Emily Bronte, Dan Brown, Robert Ludlum, Frederick Forsythe, Jeffery Archer, Leon Uris, Charles Dickens, Jules Verne, etc and poets like Wordsworth, Milton etc. I stood spellbound in a place where many people start improving their vocabulary.
Looking through the books, I did find Supremacy, but more importantly I had discovered a place which would turn into one of my favorite haunts in the time to come.
There are places much better stocked than this book house but this place has a certain unique-quaint charm to it. Browsing through the books you might come across an old forgotten book printed ages ago, like I found “An essay on criticism” by Alexander Pope (If you have read, The Da Vinci code by Dan Brown, its this person he refers to when he talks about A Pope, a friend of Isaac Newton), printed in 1902 in London and bought by an Indian gentleman in 1904 (I know the year of purchase, as he happened to sign the book with the year). I bought the book purely for its history of around 108 years. Now that’s a really, really long time.
That was how I discovered Blossom book house. Irrelevant of whether one reads or not, this place is worthy of a visit, where you find the latest literature in peaceful co-existence with the historical ones and vice-versa.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
LOCKED OUT!!!
This happened a few days ago on a Saturday. I was out learning Basketball with my cousin Amri (actually, she’s teaching me the game) in the evening and after the game (technically it wasn’t a game, it was just me running around the basketball court while simultaneously dribbling the ball and trying to aim at the basket, pathetically I might add and trying to score. Score in the real sense of scoring a point, not the other sense, PERV!!!) we started back home on her Scooty. As luck would have it, just about a kilometer away from the house the engine spluttered to a stop. Try as we might we could not get it to start again cuz the geniuses that we are, we had forgotten to take a look at the fuel tank before starting off like Roadies. For those of you who don’t know what it is, it’s a show on MTV where a bunch of fools (well not bigger fools than us seeing as they have the sense to check their fuel before taking off) go on a journey and perform tasks for money and immunity. So each of us took turns to push the scooty till the nearest Petrol station only to find to our chagrin that because of power failure, we would not be getting any fuel for at least another hour. So it was another round pushing the vehicle home, thankfully it was not all that great a distance.
It was almost dark when we got home and since no one else was home apart from us we decided to go upstairs to the terrace next to our room and stargaze. I have been interested in the heavens (I mean the night sky) since my high school and I know quite a little about the constellations (now I am bragging, I only know to spot 2-3 constellations, namely Orion, Canis major, the great bear, the scorpion etc), so I decided to educate my lil sister bout them.
So up we went, bolting the main door from within (mind you, I say bolting, not locking) to the open terrace. The first constellation was the Orion or Great Hunter as he’s called, as it’s the easiest to spot because of the three stars forming his famous belt. It took some time for Amri to get the complete constellation (help came n the form of his shoulder, the red star Betelgeuse, making it easier) since it was her first date with the Hunter. Next was Canis Major, which lies next to Orion. This again is easy to spot because the brightest star in the night sky, Sirius is a part of this 5 star constellation and also because it has a distinctive inverted Y or lambda shape. Before I knew, I was telling her about the few Indian and Greek mythologies that I had heard about or read and the time just flew.
It was time to get back into the house and surprise, surprise!! We had conveniently locked ourselves out when we slid the glass door a little too hard and the automatic lock had slid back in place!! The catch, no one else is home apart from the two of us and we lock ourselves out. As if that was not enough, my aunt reached home the exact minute and started ringing the bell. We started yelling at the top of our voice to let her know that we were locked out and it would take some time to sort the whole thing out. It took a lot longer(round about 20 mins) since the two of us had to calm down completely, as we were laughing hysterically at our own foolish predicament, when my aunt heard our laughter she told us to get our act together and get inside somehow. I tried climbing over the parapet and jumping down into the balcony below but gave up on the idea soon as there were no handholds or footholds for any grip and one slip, I would either land on the Mangalore tiles of the balcony roof or 6 floors on the ground, neither of which was a very comforting thought.
The last option left was to break down the sliding glass doors, and very frankly I was not all that happy to do that. So, to make sure that we had tried everything else possible before breaking the door down we started tugging hard at the door away from the frame. As were just about to give up, Viola!! The lock released with a snap and the door slid open. We heaved a sigh of relief, not about getting back in but for the fact that neither the main door nor the door upstairs had to be broken down. I learnt my lesson not to bolt the main door when I was home alone but rather lock it so that even in such situations it’s easier to unlock a door than having to break it down or sawing it off the frame.
Some day that turned out to be, first out of fuel, then out of breath for having had to push the vehicle and then finally locking ourselves out!! But all Amri and me did was laugh about it whole-heartedly, since both of us agree on the fact that it’s these silly goof-ups that make the journey called LIFE a little more fun and interesting.
It was almost dark when we got home and since no one else was home apart from us we decided to go upstairs to the terrace next to our room and stargaze. I have been interested in the heavens (I mean the night sky) since my high school and I know quite a little about the constellations (now I am bragging, I only know to spot 2-3 constellations, namely Orion, Canis major, the great bear, the scorpion etc), so I decided to educate my lil sister bout them.
So up we went, bolting the main door from within (mind you, I say bolting, not locking) to the open terrace. The first constellation was the Orion or Great Hunter as he’s called, as it’s the easiest to spot because of the three stars forming his famous belt. It took some time for Amri to get the complete constellation (help came n the form of his shoulder, the red star Betelgeuse, making it easier) since it was her first date with the Hunter. Next was Canis Major, which lies next to Orion. This again is easy to spot because the brightest star in the night sky, Sirius is a part of this 5 star constellation and also because it has a distinctive inverted Y or lambda shape. Before I knew, I was telling her about the few Indian and Greek mythologies that I had heard about or read and the time just flew.
It was time to get back into the house and surprise, surprise!! We had conveniently locked ourselves out when we slid the glass door a little too hard and the automatic lock had slid back in place!! The catch, no one else is home apart from the two of us and we lock ourselves out. As if that was not enough, my aunt reached home the exact minute and started ringing the bell. We started yelling at the top of our voice to let her know that we were locked out and it would take some time to sort the whole thing out. It took a lot longer(round about 20 mins) since the two of us had to calm down completely, as we were laughing hysterically at our own foolish predicament, when my aunt heard our laughter she told us to get our act together and get inside somehow. I tried climbing over the parapet and jumping down into the balcony below but gave up on the idea soon as there were no handholds or footholds for any grip and one slip, I would either land on the Mangalore tiles of the balcony roof or 6 floors on the ground, neither of which was a very comforting thought.
The last option left was to break down the sliding glass doors, and very frankly I was not all that happy to do that. So, to make sure that we had tried everything else possible before breaking the door down we started tugging hard at the door away from the frame. As were just about to give up, Viola!! The lock released with a snap and the door slid open. We heaved a sigh of relief, not about getting back in but for the fact that neither the main door nor the door upstairs had to be broken down. I learnt my lesson not to bolt the main door when I was home alone but rather lock it so that even in such situations it’s easier to unlock a door than having to break it down or sawing it off the frame.
Some day that turned out to be, first out of fuel, then out of breath for having had to push the vehicle and then finally locking ourselves out!! But all Amri and me did was laugh about it whole-heartedly, since both of us agree on the fact that it’s these silly goof-ups that make the journey called LIFE a little more fun and interesting.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
The good old summer days
As summer approaches I am lost in the sweet nostalgia of the good old childhood days.
The ending of February and beginning of March is usually one of my favorite times of the year, when its neither too hot nor too cold. The time when the trees start shedding their old leaves, as they get ready to deck themselves with a shiny, fresh, new leafy coat. And the old leaves drift down from their lofty post in ones and twos (sometimes in a shower) in the summer breeze, to make way for the new G-gen (Green-generation of leaves :D )
The love for this season is probably linked somewhere deep-down to the summer vacation of the school days and the freedom of having finished the annual exams. The summer vacations were more enjoyable than the winter cuz of two main reasons- one, they would be twice as long as the winter vacations and two, there would be no holiday homework assigned then.
There are a few things about this season that I remember more vividly than the others. The fragrance emanating when the dry parched earth eagerly soaked up the water we sprinkled around the courtyards of our houses to keep the summer dust at bay and to induce a sense of coolness (the summer temperatures in my hometown range between 40-48 degree Celsius any given day) around the time the sun started setting.
Another extremely vivid memory is lazing in front of the TV watching CN (Cartoon Network) on hot afternoons as we would be forbidden to go out and play in the sun, lest we suffer a sun stroke (not that I never tried, sneaking out carefully making sure Mamma didn’t notice. And I have never had a sun-stroke, wonder why the adults didn’t understand that?? Oops, yeah!! They never knew I sneaked out, until now), all the while receiving a cold blast from the air-cooler. And the icing on the cake for this situation would be my mum’s yummy, delicious home-made custard-fruit salad, an extremely wholesome food (containing a mix of rich dry fruits, seasonal fruits and milk). I would shamelessly hog it like I have been starving for decades and usually end up skipping either breakfast/lunch/dinner for the greed of eating two or three servings of it. And not once did Mom complain that I ate like a glutton, she always made it with a smile (I wonder how!!! But then I guess that’s how most Moms are), not for a week or two but two whole months from April to beginning to June. Feast every single day :D
It was during these days that I discovered my love for reading when one day I tagged with my Dad to the local circulation library and picked out some comics (not to read, simply to look at the pictures. There you have it!! I never was interested in reading, it simply happened “by the way”). I always wondered why anyone on this earth (including Ma and Pa) would want to read some thick, fat, novel so bland in illustration when there were so many colorful books around(Exactly my thoughts then, but gimme some credit.. I was only 10 then)? As I soon was to discover, it was not the illustrations but the amazingly well woven plot that kept people glued to the novels. I slowly graduated to mystery novels like the Hardy Boys, Nancy Drew and P G Wodehouse. Little did I know that this ‘by the way’ hobby would soon turn into a love for books (which has only grown and never dissipated) thanks to Dad for introducing me to the proper kind of literature at the proper time, specially the serious plots as I entered High School. It has been an amazing learning process.
I should be thankful to the long walks I take in the afternoon around the office campus after lunch, because it was during one such walk that a solitary drifting dry leaf from its parent branch triggered this memory, which started as a small trickle and then transformed into a smooth flowing brooke, bringing along with it so many other forgotten memories.
The ending of February and beginning of March is usually one of my favorite times of the year, when its neither too hot nor too cold. The time when the trees start shedding their old leaves, as they get ready to deck themselves with a shiny, fresh, new leafy coat. And the old leaves drift down from their lofty post in ones and twos (sometimes in a shower) in the summer breeze, to make way for the new G-gen (Green-generation of leaves :D )
The love for this season is probably linked somewhere deep-down to the summer vacation of the school days and the freedom of having finished the annual exams. The summer vacations were more enjoyable than the winter cuz of two main reasons- one, they would be twice as long as the winter vacations and two, there would be no holiday homework assigned then.
There are a few things about this season that I remember more vividly than the others. The fragrance emanating when the dry parched earth eagerly soaked up the water we sprinkled around the courtyards of our houses to keep the summer dust at bay and to induce a sense of coolness (the summer temperatures in my hometown range between 40-48 degree Celsius any given day) around the time the sun started setting.
Another extremely vivid memory is lazing in front of the TV watching CN (Cartoon Network) on hot afternoons as we would be forbidden to go out and play in the sun, lest we suffer a sun stroke (not that I never tried, sneaking out carefully making sure Mamma didn’t notice. And I have never had a sun-stroke, wonder why the adults didn’t understand that?? Oops, yeah!! They never knew I sneaked out, until now), all the while receiving a cold blast from the air-cooler. And the icing on the cake for this situation would be my mum’s yummy, delicious home-made custard-fruit salad, an extremely wholesome food (containing a mix of rich dry fruits, seasonal fruits and milk). I would shamelessly hog it like I have been starving for decades and usually end up skipping either breakfast/lunch/dinner for the greed of eating two or three servings of it. And not once did Mom complain that I ate like a glutton, she always made it with a smile (I wonder how!!! But then I guess that’s how most Moms are), not for a week or two but two whole months from April to beginning to June. Feast every single day :D
It was during these days that I discovered my love for reading when one day I tagged with my Dad to the local circulation library and picked out some comics (not to read, simply to look at the pictures. There you have it!! I never was interested in reading, it simply happened “by the way”). I always wondered why anyone on this earth (including Ma and Pa) would want to read some thick, fat, novel so bland in illustration when there were so many colorful books around(Exactly my thoughts then, but gimme some credit.. I was only 10 then)? As I soon was to discover, it was not the illustrations but the amazingly well woven plot that kept people glued to the novels. I slowly graduated to mystery novels like the Hardy Boys, Nancy Drew and P G Wodehouse. Little did I know that this ‘by the way’ hobby would soon turn into a love for books (which has only grown and never dissipated) thanks to Dad for introducing me to the proper kind of literature at the proper time, specially the serious plots as I entered High School. It has been an amazing learning process.
I should be thankful to the long walks I take in the afternoon around the office campus after lunch, because it was during one such walk that a solitary drifting dry leaf from its parent branch triggered this memory, which started as a small trickle and then transformed into a smooth flowing brooke, bringing along with it so many other forgotten memories.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
The scared squirrel.
It started this morning when I was doing my Sun salutations(I could have said Surya Namaskar but I guessed I'l Angrezify it.Enough of PJ then,I'l proceed with the tale.) that I heard the Squirrel chirping(am not sure if they chirp but you get the idea..).
I thought "Here we go again!!!Y do these guys(read squirrels)come down so often into the house and get lost?". I guess a little background is needed here...We have a room upstairs in our home(my uncle's penthouse if you should know)which is basically made for my cousins(with their inputs as to how it should be..Now that I have moved in with them since I started working i guess you could call it OUR room).We haven't moved there for the sole reason that its got Mangalore tiles for roofing & when the wind blows it howls like the room is haunted(U may laugh but I got goosebumps the first time I heard it, Freaky like a bhootbangla..).Now up there in those tile layering of the roof stays a family of squirrel..They often wander down into the room come down the stairs and get lost in the house..It was another one of those days..
I started wondering if I should post something bout those cute chipmunks who raise a hell when they get down into the house.The noise stopped and I assumed the noise maker had found a way outta the house.
I forgot all bout it, finished my yoga and went into my room, drew the curtains and turned around when suddenly something with claws fell on my neck!!I didn't know what it was and gave a cry of surprise(I was scared actually,not knowing if it was a rat or something else...I actually gave a lil jump too) and brushed it off my neck...
And there was the culprit!!!The squirrel which was lost and scared....So there I was scared outta my wits by the scared squirrel..If it could have spoken to me in my tongue I swear it wud have said "Who's the scared one now,girl??" (probably done a chicken dance too.Now I am exaggerating but again you get the idea.).
So much for me thinking the squirrel was scared...
I thought "Here we go again!!!Y do these guys(read squirrels)come down so often into the house and get lost?". I guess a little background is needed here...We have a room upstairs in our home(my uncle's penthouse if you should know)which is basically made for my cousins(with their inputs as to how it should be..Now that I have moved in with them since I started working i guess you could call it OUR room).We haven't moved there for the sole reason that its got Mangalore tiles for roofing & when the wind blows it howls like the room is haunted(U may laugh but I got goosebumps the first time I heard it, Freaky like a bhootbangla..).Now up there in those tile layering of the roof stays a family of squirrel..They often wander down into the room come down the stairs and get lost in the house..It was another one of those days..
I started wondering if I should post something bout those cute chipmunks who raise a hell when they get down into the house.The noise stopped and I assumed the noise maker had found a way outta the house.
I forgot all bout it, finished my yoga and went into my room, drew the curtains and turned around when suddenly something with claws fell on my neck!!I didn't know what it was and gave a cry of surprise(I was scared actually,not knowing if it was a rat or something else...I actually gave a lil jump too) and brushed it off my neck...
And there was the culprit!!!The squirrel which was lost and scared....So there I was scared outta my wits by the scared squirrel..If it could have spoken to me in my tongue I swear it wud have said "Who's the scared one now,girl??" (probably done a chicken dance too.Now I am exaggerating but again you get the idea.).
So much for me thinking the squirrel was scared...
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
A Story well narrated
Recently I received an E-Book version of Chetan Bhagat’s latest “2 states-the story of my marriage, from a colleague at work. After my tryst with Bhagat’s first novel “Five point someone”, I wasn’t all that keen on reading this particular book. Being a fan serious plot weavers like Brown, Forsythe, Ludlum I had found his work a little amateur.
But I was in for a pleasant surprise with “2 states”. The novel takes a look at the life (more precisely-love life) of the protagonist Krish Malhotra. It starts off with an unusual beginning with Krish at a psychiatrist’s office, having been sent there for a session with the Psychiatrist, as he’s been “GOOGLING” on ways to commit suicide. The reason being, his recent break-up with his long time girlfriend Ananya Swaminathan. We are taken on walk down the memory lane of Krish, next follows a typical Hindi movie style love story of Krish and Ananya at IIMA Ahmadabad-guy loves girl, girl loves boy but the parents don’t approve the match owing to the difference in caste (in this case the Punjabi-Tamilian differences).With a never give up attitude, Krish flies down to Chennai for his Citibank posting with his mind set to win over Ananya’s parents hearts. He succeeds and gets back to Delhi with Ananya in tow to execute the second half of the plan of Ananya winning over Krish’s mom. They succeed yet once again and decide to have a common holiday with their families so that the families can get to know each other better. The holiday turns into a fiasco when Krish’s mom insults Ananya’s parents and Ananya breaks up with Krish. The rest is for the reader to find out from the novel.
Bhagat shows a definite improvement with his new work, humor being an integral part of it. The humor is in the right amount and at the right juncture thus ensuring a good laugh.
I would recommend it to all serious plot followers as a light, one time read. I wouldn’t call it a must read but it is good enough to be read at least once.
But I was in for a pleasant surprise with “2 states”. The novel takes a look at the life (more precisely-love life) of the protagonist Krish Malhotra. It starts off with an unusual beginning with Krish at a psychiatrist’s office, having been sent there for a session with the Psychiatrist, as he’s been “GOOGLING” on ways to commit suicide. The reason being, his recent break-up with his long time girlfriend Ananya Swaminathan. We are taken on walk down the memory lane of Krish, next follows a typical Hindi movie style love story of Krish and Ananya at IIMA Ahmadabad-guy loves girl, girl loves boy but the parents don’t approve the match owing to the difference in caste (in this case the Punjabi-Tamilian differences).With a never give up attitude, Krish flies down to Chennai for his Citibank posting with his mind set to win over Ananya’s parents hearts. He succeeds and gets back to Delhi with Ananya in tow to execute the second half of the plan of Ananya winning over Krish’s mom. They succeed yet once again and decide to have a common holiday with their families so that the families can get to know each other better. The holiday turns into a fiasco when Krish’s mom insults Ananya’s parents and Ananya breaks up with Krish. The rest is for the reader to find out from the novel.
Bhagat shows a definite improvement with his new work, humor being an integral part of it. The humor is in the right amount and at the right juncture thus ensuring a good laugh.
I would recommend it to all serious plot followers as a light, one time read. I wouldn’t call it a must read but it is good enough to be read at least once.
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