Saturday, August 21, 2010


        So, the festive season is open officially, so to speak.  Time when expenses skyrocket, when every purse seems shallow.  No wonder our poor MPs are fighting tooth and nail for their pay hike.  The festive season is when I can pack my guilt in a big iron box, lock it up, throw the keys away and merrily binge on every imaginable variety of sweetmeats for the rest of the year.
            But the dampener is the preparation part of it.  The adventurous lot try the extreme stuff for their adrenaline rush.  Some set out on long voyages across the oceans, some trek through dense jungles crawling with the man-eaters, some others scale the tallest mountains, while I choose to make sweets.  That is the biggest adventure of all.   I may set out to make “X”, end up with “Y” which looks like “Z” but tastes like none of the above!  My sweet-making sessions can beat even the most action-packed, adventure-filled, nail-biting, edge-of-the-seat thriller by its sheer unpredictability.  Over the years, these sessions have taught me one valuable lesson-NEVER to announce my plans in advance.  That saves me from a lot of ribbing from family and friends for my serendipitous results.
            But my dish would definitely have a fancy, catchy name like Jilpa Jelly or Modak Medley.  Not bad, huh?  Guess, it’s guys with a scientific bent of mind that lack imagination.  Want proof?  Just look at those lab guys in London who’ve named the Super bug as “New Delhi metallo-beta-lactamase 1 (NDM-1)”.  In the process, they have unintentionally provided   fodder for our news-starved 24 x 7 news channels to debate their hearts out all through the day and night at the audacity of these ‘goras’ to dare name the Super bug after our beloved capital city.
            It’s an entirely different matter altogether that New Delhi is now synonymous with the loot and plunder going on in the name of Common Wealth Games.  Our politicos and babus took the Common Wealth Games too literally and walked away with the wealth thinking it was common to all!  Forget about naming my sweet, we’d better rename the Common Wealth Games as the Common Games as the wealth is already gone!

Sunday, August 1, 2010


Anyone who has had to move homes need not be told what an absolutely tiresome experience it is.  And the more frequently it is done, the more horrific, even the mere thought of it, turns out to be.  I’m yet to recover from the last move and am still having nightmares!

Packing up is when we know how much clutter we have accumulated over the years and the unnecessary baggage that we carry, both physically and emotionally.  Letting go of both needs a lot of maturity and will power.  But more than that, it calls for some sleight of  hand and hoodwinking other members of the family to retain our stuff and throw out theirs.

None can probably beat us in hoarding things.  While sorting out the stuff in the boxes, these are some of the things I've discovered that hubby actually packed:
  • Notes taken down in class-circa 1975.
  • Old telephone directories.
  • Two carrier bags full of scraps of material.
  • Obsolete Computer magazines.
Well, I’ve listed below the things which hubby feels are redundant, but which after a prolonged argument (which you know who won), I managed to squeeze into Box No. 151:
  • Those little sachets of salt and sugar you get with your meal on planes.
  • Unopened, still gift-wrapped dinner/tea sets.
  • Collection of comics which I probably read as a pre-schooler.
  • My size 26 jeans which I optimistically save for future use.
We have been lugging around all this stuff untiringly for quite a few years now.  But when I think of the cradle that I used as a child still lying in my parents’ home, I feel a lot better!  Atleast I’m not that bad a hoarder!

Monday, July 26, 2010


            The other day my friend and I had been to a restaurant.  The seats were rather low–almost touching the floor, with bamboo slats lined up and bound together which made an uneasy backrest and seat.   My friend, unaccustomed to the seating arrangement had to struggle a wee bit to squat cross-legged on the low seat.  He realized how unwieldy his legs were-they just refused to remain tucked up!  To add to his woes was his slight paunch, which was getting in the way and jammed too much for comfort in the yogic posture that he was bravely trying to adopt.  I am sure he would have, or rather, could have only half-filled his stomach that day.
            That made me wonder about the vast variety of chairs that are available in the market these days.  Earlier, the types of chairs could probably be counted on the fingers of a single hand.  A few rattan (cane) chairs, wire chairs, steel chairs, wooden chairs were all that you could choose from.  But these days in the name of ergonomic designs, we get to see metals, fibre, plastic and many such stuff twisted into all shapes imaginable, not always easy on the eye (and the behind too, at times)!
         Mention chairs and it immediately brings to mind my father’s armchair.  During my childhood, father’s armchair was the centre of attraction in our sit-out.  It is a family heirloom beautifully carved out of shining teak wood.  I would wait for father to finish his morning papers accompanied by piping hot tea.  When he left for his bath, it would be my turn to enjoy the comfort of the armchair.  Even now, it is a different experience altogether to relax on that chair.  It lulls me to sleep in no time!  It is not just about ergonomics, it has a lot to do with nostalgia, probably.

Tuesday, July 20, 2010


Shaft of light

shining through darkness

Swirling winds

driving away dark clouds

Lashing rains

cooling the parched earth

Angel from the sky

driving away despair

“When storms gathered

blotting out the sun

You vanished never to return

with no hope in the horizon”

“Always with you

I was your shadow

Blinded by sights yonder

you lost sight of here and now”

Sunday, June 27, 2010


           The mugshot was quite attractive really.  Seemed a well-built, tall chap.  It was a friend request on Facebook.  I checked out his profile.  It was mentioned ‘Actor” against  ‘Work’.  Was he really an actor or was he shamming it?
            May be he was an actor doing ‘bit’ roles-one of the numerous extras that pass through the screen, sometimes without uttering even a single syllable.  But then there are actors who have managed to make their co-stars look insignificant even without uttering a single word. Satish Shah and Nagesh who played corpses from the movies “Jaane Bhi Do Yaaron” and “Magalir Mattum” flash past my mind immediately.  Cases where non-performers upstaged the performers.
            One of my friends does have the distinction of featuring in a movie.  During our school days, an Associate Director of a movie came scouting for kids to act alongside the “Superstar”.  We were excited about it and our night and days were filled with Technicolor dreams of our future celluloid glory.  The D-day came and we gathered hopefully.  The Associate Director was not sufficiently impressed by me whereas my friend was selected. 
Cut to a few months later, we had all assembled to watch the movie featuring my friend.  With bated breath we waited for the song featuring her.  And she shrieks gleefully “That’s me, that’s me!!”.  I cannot spot her.  I ask her repeatedly.  “Don’t you see the one next to the flower pot? That’s me!” she says proudly.  Well, now I see her-all covered up from head to toe in a cute pink bunny rabbit costume with not an inch of skin showing!!
Well, that brings to my Facebook star-I have no means of knowing if his acting experience was similar to that of my friend.  I rejected his friend request!

Monday, June 21, 2010


Phone rings incessantly

            disturbing my dreamy thrills
Pal speaks appreciatively
            highlighting my writing skills.

“Why the long silence, may I ask?
            No posts on your blog?
Posts came thick and fast,
            now why none?”, he barks.

Me: “Brain on strike now, yaar
            Refuses to churn out stuff
Parked like a petrol-less car
            without a clue to crank it up”

“Don’t worry, my dear”, he says
            “Common is this to writers
To work around it, many are ways
            Desperate situations, desperate measures”

“Ever heard of ‘sudal’?, he winks
            “Do a survey and surf the blogs
Choose what holds your interest
            this is full time business of cogs”

Never heard words sweeter
            that warmed my heart so
Like I got a load of Ferraro Rocher
            that I gobbled at one go!

So here I come fellow bloggers
            to ‘suttufy’ your matter
There are bloggers and coggers
            I choose to join the latter!

PS-1:  This is not a figment of my imagination and all characters are alive and kicking
PS-2: ‘sudal’ and ‘suttufy’ refers to cog in Tamil slang-in plain words copying.
 I graciously accept your thanks for enriching your vocabulary through this post ;)

Sunday, June 13, 2010


To know the value of one year... ask the student who failed the final exam.
To know the value of one month... ask the mother of a premature baby.
To know the value of one week... ask the editor of a weekly newsmagazine.
To know the value of one day... ask the wage earner who has six children.
To know the value of one hour... ask the lovers who are waiting to meet.
To know the value of one minute... ask the person who missed the plane.
To know the value of one second... ask the person who survived the accident.
To know the value of one millisecond... ask the Olympic silver medalist.
     This was in my mailbox the other day.  Though we may not have gone through all the above experiences personally, we surely can relate to each one of them.  After all, time is equally dear to all of us.

         Time holds a fascination for many of us.  During my school days, after watching a few sci-fi movies like ‘Back to the Future’,  I used to imagine myself being on the time machine of Doc Brown and the immense possibilities that it would open to me. 

        Would it not be wonderful if one were to travel back in time?  If we had realized the value of our carefree childhood days, would we have savored them better?  We are no saints and given an opportunity, there may be many wrongs which we would like to set right.  I can recollect quite a few occasions I was cruel or unkind to my dear ones without the thought that they may leave us never to return.  How I would like to erase those incidents! 

“There are some hours which are taken from us, 
  some which are stolen from us, 
  and some which slip from us.”
"The moments we forego...
   Eternity itself cannot retrieve."

       The present hides the future from us, a veil which offers no glimpse into the black hole that is our future.  Wisdom lies in living life to the fullest today, with no regrets for yesterday and no anxieties about tomorrow.  As Scarlett O’Hara famously says “After all, tomorrow is another day!”.  May be some day I will be wise enough to realize that! Time indeed, is a sacred gift, and each day is a little life. 

Saturday, June 5, 2010


            One of my  friends remarked that ever since we planned our summer  vacation, verses have elbowed out prose on my blog.  I could sense that he was green about his gills with my so-called poems and was hardly in a condition to take any more of the stuff.  So if this post comes as a welcome change then the credit goes to him and if not, well, the author’s to be blamed.
            Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens, 
bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens, 
brown paper packages tied up with strings, 
these are a few of my favorite things. 

This snippet from ‘The Sound of Music’ wafted through the air and that gave me the topic for my blogpost-‘A few of my favorite things’

o       Topping the list would be listening to good music, preferably  violin or flute in a dimly lit/dark room
o       Traveling with windows rolled down, feeling the wind on your face (never mind getting your hair messed up)
o       Watching the skies darken, awaiting the drizzle and catching the first rain drop in your face
o       Scared out of your wits by the flash of lightning but still awaiting the loud clap of thunder
o       When a big wave surprises you on the beach and soaks you to your skin
o       Walking bare-foot on the lawns feeling the grass tickling your feet
o       Starting your Sunday with a steaming cuppa and marathon session of newspaper reading without anxious glances at the clock
o       And, of course, the smell of wet earth soaking up the first rain drops

The list doesn’t quite end here.  But I can hear my friend’s stern warning to keep it short.  So, may be, whoever reads this can add to this list?  Now, wouldn’t that be lovely?

Tuesday, June 1, 2010


Cascading water drops wipe the pane clear
Flashes of light streak across the sky
Gusts of wind swirl through the leaves
Homecoming birds drive askew bewildered

Memories of a face reflected in the drops
Wind fury resuscitates the mind’s recesses
Ominous clap of thunder imitates your rage
Lashing spears of rain tear at the heart

Nature’s fury unbinds boundless forces
Threatening to smother, engulf, overwhelm
Sucking life out of living moments
Leaves in me a you-shaped vacuum. 

Tuesday, May 25, 2010


Thick green veil
Covering the earth
Snaking through space
Reaching for the skies

The lone tree in the foreground
Gazing out at the blue expanse
Emerald waters competing hard
To better the colors of dense foliage

                Eerie silence envelops
                Not a soul in sight
                Solitude is divine!
                It is the route to Heaven

Afloat on the calm waters
Time stands still
Sky, sun, sand and waves
Remain silent spectators

Languorous stretch of deep blue water
Seemingly floating strips of land
Verdant branches reaching for the sea
Landscape unspoilt by civilization

Seemingly still water
Loudly lapping tides
Gently rolling hills
Rains hidden in clouds

Should I come or should I not?
The Sun seems undecided
Peeping from behind the clouds
Laden with the golden showers

Sparkling sands
Dancing rays
Floating clouds
Divine place