59 posts tagged “blah”

Chennai_Weatherforecast

...is here. And how ! It seems only yesterday I was complaining about the delay.

It is never really monsoon in this part of the world unless there has been a cyclone or two, with wind uprooting trees, schools shutting down, our campus lake breaching ..so on and so forth, but the general feeling is already there, thanks to the periodic whoosh of dense precipitation as the weatherman says, and the damp and smelly clothes that won't dry.  Right now I don't have a sizable problem, as sitting in the varandah with a book, rosogolla and a comfortable chair, watching the kid dancing in the rain outside (and occasionally joining in) is soulful enough, but once all the clothes in the cupboard turn equally mouldy, and critters and worms start taking shelter in the confines of our nest, the expletives may start pouring with the rain.

That said, I never fail to feel the slight tinge of guilt in looking forward to monsoon from the safe confines of my solid roof when there are thousands on the street, homeless, huddled under jute sacks. As with all righteous guilts, I conveniently push it into the dark recesses of sub-consciousness, and gear up to enjoy the rest of the monsoon.

..until I have dry clothes to wear, that is.

Been a hectic few days, and unusually, not on the professional front as much as the home front.  Been pretty lax with Vox, but I guess the tide comes and goes all the time here. My next work deadline is a fortnight hence and I am anticipating a nightmarish period during then, for all my colleagues are away on personal crisis situations, and the burden of the deadline is pretty much on the onion.

 I need a break. And what's more..I am getting it.  Taking an impromptu, mid-semester, mid-term, mid-deadline vacation this following weekend, thanks to the spontaniety of a certain dude.  To Srirangam.  All three of us deserve it, we have been working hard and if we need to continue this pace of industry further, we need a change.

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What's up with the weather, I say.  Where is the trusted N.E. Monsoon that lashes our side of the world about now?  The sun god has shown no mercy on us this year, and every day is just as infernal as the previous, with no respite in sight.  If there are no rains in November as well, we are in for a tough summer next year, with water scarcity that can wreck havoc on our city.  It has happened before, and the memory of that period makes me dread what is to come.  Oh heaven, open up already. 

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Met two of my grand aunts this week. Both in their nineties.  Both dynamic women in the past, rag dolls now. One of them, the widow of the erstwhile GM of Southern Railways, who lived in a mansion in an arterial road, now lives in a tiny one bed room apartment with daughter's family, confined to a boxy room with no ventilation.  Repeats statements, very confused about people, senile, in short, but manganimous as ever.  Gifted me Rs. 100, despite her dependence on her meagre pension. But beyond the gift, what I would treasure is the affection with which she held in her bony, wrinkled ghost of a hand, mine. 

The other grand aunt, an enterprising businesswoman in her heyday; in an era where the woman's place in the house was the kitchen, is a broken old woman now, with paid servents to keep her company and home. The tasteful, expensive teak wood furniture she adorned her home with , now gathering dust in every corner.  She can't hear too well, but her memory is sharp. Her eyes clouded when I took leave of her, and she beseeched me to visit her more often.

Maybe I won't see them again, maybe I will.  They probably won't remember my visit.  But I made them happy for the time I was there. 

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End of ramble. 

in a graph.
I could replace "vacation" with "my typical day" and it would be just as true.

Graph

I have a question for all ye people out there who wear saree casually, i.e. not for occasions alone, but just-like-that.  When you have worn a saree and are at home attending to the million chores around, do you or do you not pull up the pallu around you and tuck it into your waist (see picture below, of course, minus the "oomph")? 

Tucked in

3 comments

I do, and I just realised I don't know why I do it.  Like dude says, it looks untidy, and doesn't serve any purpose.  Yet I do it ever single time.
Any ideas?

I got this as a mail forward, and am impressed at how true the points are w.r.t. me. All but point 21. I never watched movies, so I wouldn't know.  I also don't know who Salma Sultana was, but in my end of the country, Shobana Ravi wouldn't smile when the country was mourning.  But then, she never smiled.

Rosie

A half-page colour ad in the Hindu Metroplus attempts to sell Dove soap.  The tag line reads "Real women. Real Stories", and the ad goes on to say that "when you do see Dove's next commercial..blah blah...remember that these women are real women, just like you."

"Real" woman?  So, there are "unreal" women around?  Where do these advertising types get such brain-dead, meaningless phrases?  And why am I the only one online who seems to find it amiss ?  It seems the advertisement has stirred up quite a few discussions online, and one of them goes "What do you think of the current Dove ads featuring women with "real bodies"?"

That's even better. Real bodies, as against, what, virtual bodies?  False bodies?

An advertising blog says "Dove - Real Women, Real Skin".   Now we not only have real women and real bodies, we even have real skin.  This blog nitpicks that "Dove is Afraid to Use Real Women". So, what is it using?  Robots? Transvestites (who, I am sure will object being referred to as unreal women)?

And the "real" problem is that consumers fall for it. The real women ads for Dove has soared sales by 700%. The brand manager claims that the ad "..is so eye-catching and relates directly to real women everywhere. We were talking to women in the way they wanted to be talked to."

Uh uh,  no lady.  I don't want to be talked to like I am a brainless nincompoop who would understand what a "real" woman means. 

I would much rather be strongly rooted in the "real" world.

[[Ok Ok.. back to the "real" world with "real" deadlines and lots of "real" work]]
 

Nutcase

-  I think on my fingers.  I cannot, unlike dude, just sit at one spot and think coherently.  Not even something as simple as the recipe for vatha kozambu. I need my keyboard, or at least a paper and pencil and only when I start writing, thoughts flow.  I am so weird that if I have to discuss something important with dude,  I send him an email, even if he is literally a stone's throw away. When I am sitting doing nothing (if that is even possible), my mind usually jumps between banal, mundane, unconnected thoughts at the rate of 1 thought per millisecond.  I understood my  research only when I wrote up the thesis.  I am amazed at people who can talk about some idea or a concept or an incident coherently without writing it down. 

- I love garlic.  The more garlic the better. The pickle I love most is garlic, where thousands of the most, ahem, aromatic pods are marinated in salt and chilly. I love garlic rasam, especially made by my m-i-l. I loved, what would probably freak you out, the dish of garlic boiled in milk, that I was given after delivery, to enhance lactation. However, I HATE the smell of my entire body a few hours after garlic has been consumed.  Nauseatingly hate it. The memory of the most offensive odour is the only thing that prevents me from succumbing to my cravings. 

- Everything about me flows in cycles.  Even interests.  There would be a phase when I would obsess about some hobby, belief, activity, whatever.  And then there would be a phase when I would not be caught dead doing that thing I did.  This will be again followed by the obsession phase and so on.  Which is alright.  But in my case, during the wean period, I impulsively get rid of all materials related to my earlier interest and so when the obsession starts again, I start from scratch.

- I can never exhibit my anger (not annoyance or irritation, but anger) by anything other than crying.  That makes me weak, and my case is lost even before it began.  Hence, I avoid like plague, any situation that could potentially anger me. 

- I am NOT a mornings person.  I am most crabby in the mornings, and only after noon does my mood pick up.  It is best around bed time. 

-  Do you know that little nylon tag that is sewn at the back of the neck on t-shirts and other ready-to-wear clothing that says things like "Made in Kodavasal" and "Don't ever wash this dress" and "Size XXXXXXXXL" etc.?  I am allergic to it.  Neither can I tolerate synthetic clothes.  I do have a few synthetic sarees.  They look good on me, but I feel most uncomfortable in them.

- I am very impressionable.  If I ate salad one day, I would instantly feel healthier. When I have had half-an-hour less sleep than usual, I feel crabbier even if l don't feel sleepy.  When someone tells me something nice, I float on many clouds. When someone critisises me, my self esteem plummets.  I would be a perfect candidate for placebo and hypnotic studies.

-  I cannot believe I am thrity-something years old, and an adult.  So, when I see my daughter trusting me unquestioningly about everything, it truly freaks me out and I want to run to the nearest adult in the house and hide behind him.

- I don't like talking.  I cannot make small talk, if I have nothing important to say. I am often misunderstood as arrogant, but the truth is that I really have nothing to say.  I am just plain boring. And the irony is that I was the school orator/spokeswoman in days of yore.  I cannot imagine how I could easily get up on stage and give a speech to hundreds out there. Extempore too.

- I love to peep into passing houses, huts and temples alongside the track when I am traveling by train and imagine what people would be doing/gearing up to do etc. Especially around dusk when the lights in the houses would be switched on. This is one reason I hate to travel by A/C coaches, for it insulates you from humanity.I sometimes have this urge to pull the chain, stop the train and just drop into one of their houses, and find out what they are doing.  And it is gratifying to know that I am not the only one in this world that feels that way.

Image source: http://www.gifthounds.com/UserFiles/Image/nutcase.jpg     

Random

It is just one of the days I think, when rather innocuous statements in the newspaper makes you either ROFL or want to tear it to bits, or both.  Or sometimes think.

A model called Ritu Kumar reportedly says in an article on NXg, the Hindu's magazine for the next generation (?!), "I had put on some weight due to biological changes in my body..."
Biological changes?  Umm...like what, pregnancy?  menstruation?  Pretty corny statement, I say.

A tenth standard girl has this to say (again in NXg):
"I've seen girls of another totally 'cool' school, gloss their lips, use eyeliners, mascaras and perfumes everyday to school".
Behind the apparent disdain for the cool girls, does anyone other than I, sense the wistfulness of the writer having to wear boring uniform?

The new movie by Punit Malhotra (whoever he is) is titled "i hate luv storys. pls dun mind".
EXCUSE ME?

Someone tells Shanaz, the beautician that her face sweats if she puts on makeup and the powder becomes patchy.
Lady, you live in India -Chennai to be exact, where the humidity is around thousand percent on a good day.  What do you expect?

Priyadarshini Paitandi says "It's 3 a.m.  After a night of partying, you stumble home tired".
Thank your lucky stars, Ms. Paitandi, that you are not MY daughter.

Actor Saif Ali Khan confesses that his job involves working "in an environment of sweat and dirt and use the dirtiest toilets you can't even imagine".
THAT is one good reason I would never want to be an actor (the other being, of course, I can't act to save my life).

An ad for the movie "Dooms Day" reads: "Most terrifying film about the end of the earth.  The scenes of men eating man will dry your blood".
Blink.

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Recently heard from a parent in my kid's school that a hep-value school in Chennai (Porur, to be exact), greatly sought-after by the oomph crowd (notably NRIs returning to Motherland, inclined to complaining about how "hot, dirty and mosquito ridden India is") sends its school bus to pick up kindergarten kids from home at, hold your breath, 6.40 A.M. 

6.40 A.M.?  A thirty-something old mom of primary schooler, sleepily brushes her teeth around then.  I agree, this is not the model mom who has the household in well-greased working order;  the minutes in the morning between the time the kid wakes up (7.15 A.M.) until the moment she leaves for school (8.00 A.M.- the mom wishes it were later by a few hours- not that it would make a difference in the getting-ready-comedy though) is of intense entertainment value, but atleast, the child is not waking up at an ungodly hour in the morning, stuffing in breakfast before the stomach has woken up and travelling in a school bus racing against the sun.  The worst part is that the kids in the oomph school return home around 4.30 P.M., with pages of homework to finish. 

Whither childhood?

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Image: http://images.morris.com/images/athens/mdControlled/cms/2009/04/11/428250518.jpg

I could have said the following words, but that would amount to shameless plagiarism.  So, I give credit where it is due, recommended by my friend Doug.  Thanks Doug.

Why I Write
I do not really know. What I know is, and what I always write about is what is real to me; another night of many nights,  filled with laughter, tears, or  nothing, no lights, and moonlight slides through the curtains on those very familiar objects on my desk, and I remember an old song from my childhood, and the only way to remember that moment again is to write about it. I guess  that is why I write now.
   

Dreams

There is a Tamil film song that goes "Chinna Chinna Aasai", that roughly (literally) translates to "Small small desires".  Here are mine:

- See the sun rise over the Bay of Bengal.  The Elliots beach is a 10 minute-drive from where I live, but I have not yet seen the sun rise (from hearsay, a spectacular sight) because it involves (a) waking up at 4.30 AM, if I have to be at the beach at sunrise time of 5.00 AM. I have not seen the world before six yet in the past few years.  (b) finding a mode of travel to the destination at that time.  Now that I drive the car outside, this hurdle can be crossed, I suspect.

- On a pleasant Chennai day (when the weather is neither a scorching 110 degrees, nor is it raining cats and dogs), I would like to leave home after a cup of coffee, a refreshing bath and visit the Parthasarathy temple, to witness the early morning "Goshti" waking up the deity. Hurdle (a) still holds good for this one as the Thiruppalliyezuchi takes place at 6.30 AM.  I have done this earlier in life.  Wake up at 5.30, take a quick bath, walk up to Panagal park, take route 12 from there, get off at Ice house and walk to the temple.  Makes for a good physical and spiritual exercise. 

-  Wear a dress that fits me well, suits me fine, designed stylish, and is comfortable.  Is it even possible?

-  Sew my ear.  The heavy ornamental ear stud I wear has taken a toll on the ear lobe, which now sags, the hole for the stud bigger than it should be. I wish I could find a cosmetic surgeon who can stitch up the enlarged opening so that I can wear snug fit, styllish ear studs (although I suspect I won't).

- Eat molagai bajji (Jalapno fry) in the beach without worrying about acidity, cholesterol and E-coli. In my first trimester years ago, dude made molagai bajjis for his salivating pregnant wife, using the hottest chillies available in the Indian store, and when his eyes and nose watered at the mere aroma of it, I gobbled it up complaining that they weren't hot enough.

- Play volley ball.  I used to be in the team in school, and now as I wait for my daughter outside her school and watch older boys (why is it that only boys play ball in her school, girls playing stuff like Kho Kho?) play VB, I feel wistful to join them.

-  Write a story.  I used to write good stories in college, some of them even won prizes. Now for the life of me, I cannot.  Imagination has probably retired.

- Learn the Nalayira Divya Prabandam.   

- Read poetry - I cannot understand poetry that don't rhyme (e.g. "Tiger tiger burning bright")

- Fight with someone and not cry half way through it.

Listing them down has made one thing very clear in my mind.  I will do all of this in a year.  Hold me responsible for my words.

Image from http://dryicons.com/files/graphics_previews/midnight_dreams.jpg