Of Gods n goddesses, fine dining and finding things - part 1

 Kannur is a quirky land. With quirks that are lovable to the Kannur folk, but very weird, initially at least, for the non Kannureans.  

Our Gods too, are Gods with a difference. They are, you could say,  of the people, by the people, for the people. Muthappan is one of the human-Gods, who take on a godly character when he dons the headgear which is believed to give him godly powers.  Not all can do it, 40 days of strict vratham are a prerequisite for the human to be able to don the head gear n transform into Muthappan. Taking swigs of his favourite toddy, he dances to that uniquely Muthappan beat; jumping n smiting his chest with his sword, he mingles freely with his devotees, telling them stories,  listening to their joys n tribulations, accepting whatever dakshina the devotee can afford, and in turn, he comforts them, advises them, gives them direction, laughs at them, questions them and in some cases, extracts a fee for services offered. You are to go back n give him his due only if you think you’ve got what you prayed for. Here too, Muthappan can be very clear as to what is owed and what is not.  

There are different Muthappan kaavus throughout the length n breadth of Kannur. And if you offered up a promise at a particular kaavu, Muthappan has to be offered your thanksgiving at the same place. An uncle of mine prayed to the Muthappan at Kunnathur padi to help him secure a ‘job in the Gulf’. Muthappan told him not to worry, that he would definitely look into it, but that he should come n ‘see’ him after that when he came home. Within a month of that prediction, the uncle found a job, n happily left for Dubai. When he came back for a visit, he dutifully visited Muthappan. Now, Kunnathur padi opens up only for one month in the year. Since that wasn’t the month my uncle came down for a visit, he visited Muthappan at Parassinikadavu. In gratitude, my uncle clasped Muthappan’s hand, reminded him of his prayer n promise, and passed on the dakshina. Muthappan took the dakshina, told him that he was very happy to see his bhakta, and then gave back the dakshina to my uncle. Saying that he was very happy to see his Bhakta remembered his promise, but the dakshina needed to be given to Kunnathur padi, as it had not been asked for by the Padi Muthappan, not him. 

It is uncanny the way he can see into your mind and tell you things you aren’t aware of yet/you’re going to tell him. In the first month of my pregnancy, when I visited home, and visited Muthappan entirely by chance, he told me- you have glad tidings for me? About a little leg about to enter your home? 

And to another Canadian cousin, to whom I was acting interpreter, he reflected that she was going to come to a turning point/parting of ways. Said cousin was finishing her MBA n scouting for jobs, so we were a bit confused over the 'vazhithirivu', but then put it down to her finishing her studies n embarking on a career. I also gave allowance to the fact that I might have misunderstood him, for its not always easy to decipher what he speaks. But not so. Within months of her going back to Canada, she discontinued her MBA, and joined up for Medicine, following in her dad's footsteps. 

Definitely not a savarna God, Muthappan eats fish, n meat, n drinks toddy (or whatever tipple the devotees bring him). One of the things that endeared Muthappan to me was that his vahana was a dog and dogs could be seen freely mingling with the devotees inside the shrine. 

Muthappan is invited home as well, as an offering, and that is when the whole locality lands up at the devotees home. He has been known at times to wait even long after all assembled devotees have 'seen' him, for some devotee who was on the way and was delayed. The family might not have know of the relative’s impulsive visit or delay, but Muthappan always knew. And never let down his bhakta. 

Whichever shrine of Muthappan you go to, the devotee will always get a glass of tea, n boiled  vanpayar (cowpeas) or kadala. If nothing he will at least get flattened rice. And like he says, Muthappan never lets go of the hand stretched out to him for help.

To get to read or not to

Sonny boy used to LOVE being read to. But as he grows up, while he does read, I cannot call him a book lover :-(  Both the Acha and myself are voracious readers (I used to be, at least), and that he isn't, is a fact I find it very hard to reconcile myself with.

He can watch anything on a screen- tv, computer, phone, tablet- anything, and he can spend HOURS in front of it. Which gets my GOAT!

Now he's 13, and while he can hold forth at length with an audience ( he has his Acha's gift of the gab), ask him to write, and its a different story. He's taken French, and I'm the tutor, and we're at loggerheads with each other during our sessions, because there are so many words, where the French and the English are derived from each other, and he doesn't know, because his English vocabulary isn't good enough. Because he doesn't read enough.

I used to keep putting embargos on gadget/screen time, but the Acha was the more lenient, 'fun' parent. Whereas I was deemed the heartless non-fun parent. My worry basically was that all this screen watching was only adding to his lack of focus, and lack of persevering with anything. This year, the Acha finally woke up to the realisation that it might soon be too late, and his son might never enjoy letters the way we did. So, we've jointly told him absolutely no screens, except on weekends. And this we did, using the excuse that 8th, 9th, 10th, there was going to be an awful lot to study.

So far so good. It helped that his marks were not too good, which hardened the Acha's faltering resolve. Me- us moms are made of sterner stuff. :-D 
Hope he takes to reading. 

The reading bug bites again, phew!

It had been ages since I'd read any new books. I just couldn't seem to find the concentration to keep at it, or rather the luxury of time to get lost in it.
Things haven't really changed, life is as busy as ever. In between, I even let go of the driver and the cook that I'd experimented with having. But then, all of a sudden, I got back my reading mojo. And that fills me with joy. I'd dearly missed my reading.
I'd been buying books, of course, but instead of finding their way to the bed/bedside table, they eventually got tucked into the book shelves at home. Not any more but. It all started with some Agatha Christies I bought in Aug. Easy, familiar, much loved writing.
Then I bought an author I'd been wanting to read for a long time. I'd not been getting her first book, n I'd wanted to read that. I found it finally. Anuja  Chauhan, and Those Pricey Thakur Girls. I loved her. It was a little like Pride n Prejudice, a little like M&Bs, very very readable, eminently enjoyable. Need to get more of her.
Then I bought The Girl On The Train. It was a little difficult to get into initially, but then slowly the bait caught. I read it on the flight from Delhi,  I read it from home, I read it on the train to Kannur, and with barely a few pages left to finding why he did it, and if the girl on the train would get free of him, I forgot the book at my mom's. Aaaaarrgggghhhh!! The frustration!!!! I had to wait a whole month before I could get it back, but when I did, I was able to immediately carry on like I'd read it yesterday.
A dear friend gifted me Divakaruni's Before We Visit The Goddess. I love all her books, Palace of Illusions the most. . This one was different. It was one single story, but spread across generations. And as usual you get entangled in the skeins she weaves so skilfully, almost effortlessly. She makes you want to know more about each character. . . , it would almost be like Roots.
And then, I bought my first Dalrymple. The Acha was a fan and had read nearly all his books, but I wasn't much into travelogues. Even so, a couple of years back, I'd read Nine Lives ( that was my introduction to him) n been entranced with the lives he wrote about. This time, it was The Age of Kali, and I understood more about stuff I'd read only headlines about. I wasn't as politically aware at the time of those happenings as I am now and reading about some of  the whys, the whats and the hows, chilled me. I loved reading about the Madurai Meenakshi temple. I'd bought it because it also had a piece on Chottanikkara Amma. But I was disappointed with that piece. The Devi in his story is different from the Devi in my heart. But then, like he himself put it, you must be god loving( I wouldn't say god fearing either, I don't fear the goddess, I love her like a mother) , only then can you understand her power. Or her infinite grace.
That's all for now. 

Renewing jottings

Its been a while that I've been thinking to restart my blog. So many happenings left unrecorded, except for short notes on FB. And FB doesn't come anywhere close to blogging.

This year, Vijayadashmi was celebrated from Cochin. Owing to a death in my family, Sonny boy and I were unable to participate actively in the puja, but we made for very good passive onlookers. And after the puja ended, all family members got together, and wrote this mantra on plates of rice.
Om hari sree ganapataye namah
avignamastu gurubyoh namah.

We also wrote the first letter of the Malayalam alphabet. With much hilarity, as there was much confusion over new and old letters. but finally, all of us did manage to write, peeping into others' plates where required. A little 'chitting', but in a good cause. :-D

So here goes, once again. May the Goddess bless that this time there is no break.

Fatal February

Looking back, I think that Feb spelt misfortune for Trinity.

When we brought her home, after that terrible, horrible wound/burn in her thigh (we still don't know how it was caused!) we were soooo happy. And then in Feb, she got all listless and was off her food.. . .  sure sign of being unwell in a lab! The vet who came home to check on her, diagnosed it as pyometra, and thankfully immediately referred her to another vet who specialised in gynaecology. And he operated just in time. A little later, and her uterus would have ruptured and that would have been the end. But we got lucky that time. She was saved, her earlier vet continued the post-op treatment, and she got back to her old self pretty soon.
This was in Feb 2010.

There followed 5 glorious years. Till Feb 2014. I had gone for Attukaal Pongala, and had just come back. Trin had been left at home for the weekend while we were gone and Ratnamma used to come in to feed and walk her, as usual. She was overjoyed to see us back and jumped all over us.  But in the afternoon, she was off her food. The next day, Ratnamma said there were traces of blood in her potty. We took her to the vet, who said it must be indigestion and asked us to deworm her and gave us some other medication as well for an upset stomach.

She seemed to get better, her appetite was back. Till the next day, when she puked blood. I was at office. The Acha rushed her to the vet. She puked more blood and started passing blood in her stools as well. They said she must've been poisoned, and put her on drips. The Acha was asked to get her blood checked from CUPA Hebbal. The Acha called me and told me it was a bad scene and asked me to get over to the vet asap, as he was leaving for CUPA with her blood.
Till date, I have no memories of that auto ride. From Bannerghatta Road, to Varthur, I just prayed. For her to at least remain alive till I got to her. The Gods heard my prayer, she was alive. But so weak, so weak, she could barely lift her tail at seeing me. I had never seen my darling like that. And she kept puking blood and passing blood in her stools as well. Poor thing. She'd strain to get up and outside each time the retching started, and she felt the urge to go potty. She didn't want to dirty the place. It was all I could do to not break down, but hold on, I did. I stayed strong for her.

Finally the Acha came back with the glad tidings that she was not poisoned. Her blood report was normal. Our relief was short lived, though. For Trinity continued to be passing blood. The vets were unable to figure out what was wrong. But the drips seemed to have done some good. She was able to stand up, and a dull shine had come back into her eyes.
There followed a harrowing week where we'd bring her for her drips each day. Finally the vets consulted a professor of theirs. We took Trin there. Maybe it was because Trinity was a new patient and he was not familiar with her symptoms- he gave us a huge tome and asked us to read through a passage to see if the symptoms matched. The symptoms did. Based on that, he diagnosed haemorrhagic gastroenteritis (HGE). We were asked to continue with the drips and maybe a blood transfusion would be necessary if she lost too much blood. But he said to continue at the old clinic inspite of his clinic being so much closer to us. I will never ever take a dog of mine to him ever again.
A whole week was over and we were clearly doing nothing for a cure, except for giving her drips. We kept asking the vets what could be done, and the vets kept saying we had to wait and see. I learnt how to disconnect and connect a new bottle, so that we could give her drips from home.The next day, her vets gave her blood transfusion, as she'd lost a huge amount of blood by then. Was still losing.  But that didn't help. If anything, her condition worsened.  We tried giving her papaya leaf juice to get her blood count up.

The next day, ( Sonny boy's B'day) Acha and I decided to consult another vet a friend had recommended. At the new place, they took all the tests all over again. The blood had reacted, she had a bloated stomach, and her lungs had problems as well. The vet asked us to leave her there and come back in the evening. We'd never left her alone at the other clinic. But she was having some medicines injected intravenously, and she was terribly weak. We'd carried her in on a rug. She'd be unable to climb into the car, out of the car, into the house, and then repeat the same thing all over again in the evening.We left with a heavy heart. She was going through so much, it seemed kinder to put her down. But neither of us wanted to voice it. We held on to a small sliver of hope that she'd get better. By some miracle. In the evening we came back and awaited the vet with dread. He saw us and said that she was responding to the medicines, but was still very weak. He took us to her. She was standing up and delighted to see us, tail wagging nineteen to the dozen. She jumped on us, and whined happily. We were so happy we were nearly in tears. We hadn't thought to see her so well, so soon. We looked back at the vet and smiled a grateful, joyful, misty smile at him. He smiled back, but asked us not to raise our hopes, she was far from being out of danger. Anything could happen still. She was in the extreme stages of tick fever. But we were more filled with hope then, that at any time in the last nightmarish one week to ten days. The vet suggested that we leave her there and come back in the morning. We were glad to leave her there. We went and had a glad B'day dinner. No b'day cake as we 'd all been too worried for that.

The next day, we went to the clinic with hope, but she was worse. It was as if the previous evening, she'd known that it was Sonny Boy's B'day and didn't want to sadden him or us, and had put on a 'happy and well' act. She was happy to see us, yes, but she was disoriented, and didn't want us touching her face. She was in a cage kind of place so she wouldn't fall off (we presumed). Her doctor had left by the time we reached, and would come back only in the evening. We left with a heavy heart again. I kept looking back, not wanting to leave her there so forlorn, but the Acha told me to come off, as we needed to allow her to rest which she could do better when we were not there.

This was at about 2. We planned to come back by 4.30, after picking Sonny boy who'd be back at 3.30.. There was a colleague's wedding I had to attend, I planned to come, see, Trin and then leave, show my face at the wedding and then rush back.. At about 4 however, I got very restless, I just couldn't sit still and all I wanted was to go to the clinic and see her. And then I got a call from the doc. Asking us if we could come soon. I just knew then. I asked him- How is she? Is she. . . ? And then he told me that she was no more.

To my dying day, I think I will carry the regret that I didn't stay back with her that day. That I was not with her, holding her paw, holding her close, when she left.
Poor Sonny boy was devastated. He knew she was unwell, but was not prepared at all for her death.
We had our last drive with her that night, a spent Sonny boy on my lap and Trin on the back seat. . On her journey to the PFA pet cemetery at Kengeri.

Of dogs- well trained and otherwise

Sonny Boy is in Cochin for part of the Xmas hols.
An uncle there has a dog, Micky.
Ever since Trin left us, he's been happy to be with any dog that he comes across, and yesterday, he'd spent the day at Micky's house.
He just called me, and told me that I would be very unhappy if I saw Micky. Apparently, if you asked Micky to come, she would come, if you asked her to go, she would go, she would sit, roll over, and all that, at one's behest. Seemed to me to be a well trained dog. So I asked why I would be unhappy with that.
But Amma, dogs should not be so obedient! they should be naughty.
Speaks volumes for darling Trinity's obedience. :-D
Also- by now he's read Marley and Me ( the abridged version, not the full one, didn't want him to read the original one, I could barely complete it myself without tears trickling out of my eyes, and that was before Trin passed away) and he's entirely convinced a dog should be footloose and fancy free.
All we need now is the pitpat of little paws to enter our lives and enrich it once again.

Of sambar and varutharacha curry

And its back to square one. The cooking, I mean.

The first cook we had was good. Her chicken curry was delicious!! But she was unreliable. And would take leave often. She also skipped work for an entire week that I was away from home. Without any notice whatsoever. A hassled, irate husband told me to send her packing. Well, she had to come before I could send her packing, but what I did do, was to get another one.

This new one didn't have a mobile where we could call, but was punctual to the dot every day.Only thing was - she was a cook who couldn't cook. She made decent chappatties, which was what she made the first 2 weeks, but that was the most she could do. She couldn't make north indian (aloo capsicum), she couldn't make south indian ( morukari - similar to north indian kadi) . She had to be literally shown everything else. I asked her to make potato masala curry once-
"I want potato curry made with coconut.  Like the moru kari I showed you. .  but you have to saute it first. You know?"
"I know," she nodded.
Having had prior experience of her happy nods, I proceeded to tell her in detail what all I wanted in the coconut paste.. And I laid out all the ingredients to be sauteed- onion, red chilly, cumin, pepper, chilly, curry leaves, even the requisite amount of grated coconut.
And off I went, to facebook in peace.
I wish I had taken a picture of that curry.
Madame 'chef' sauteed it to perfection yes,  but didn't grind it!! The curry was full of grated, sauteed coconut and other stuff. Husband told me - "You and your varutharacha curry! She's a kannadiga, she doesn't know all that, ask her to make normal stuff."

I was traveling again, so I asked her to make sambar. I couldn't think any more normal that that for a south Indian. This was around the time the price of dal was shooting up. What can I say? She made sure that the husband  knew that she hadn't wasted any dal. He kept it carefully in the fridge for me to see when I returned a couple of days back. I could count alll the innumerable dals in the sambar, which lay separately along with the ladies finger and drumstick and onions and tomatoes.
He looked at me miserably. I didn't know whether to laugh or to commiserate. That was the straw that broke the camel's back.

So for now, its back to me and my 'divine' cooking.  And the husband is being very helpful, extra so!

Suffrage and doubts

Sonny Boy, now in 6th standard, was reading his Civic lesson. . .

. . . and was reading that if people were not happy with their elected representatives they could change them.
"Good!" And then he did a double take- "but what's the use?? You can only change them after 5 years, right?"
Right, my son, right. Which is why you need to be extra careful WHO you vote into power.


. . . .and then he asked me- did you vote as you soon as you became legal?
Of course,  Sonny boy, I voted in the very next election after I turned 18.


. . . .and then he asked- "did Ammamma also vote?"
I looked at him smoulderingly for wasting time with inane questions.
"No, really, because it says here that in the late 19th and early 20th century, focus was on giving voting rights to women."
 I grinned and said- Your Ammamma's not as much of a dinosaur as all that. She definitely used to vote. . . for very many elections.

Unsatisfied with the answer, he went to ask my Mom if HER mother was allowed to vote. He's bent on having at least some woman in the family who fought for suffrage.

Back to writing for the sheer love of it, just like that. . .

I've missed this space so. But inspite of that, hadn't feel like visiting either. It had changed, and there were too many good memories associated with what this space used to be.

Number one would be of course, the friends I made for life. All those girls I met in the virtual world, who then turned friends in the real world too, some of whom know and understand me better than family. Not all of them might be back in this space. But somehow, that's ok. And I'm back here. Like how I started. Just to air my thoughts. And I hope I like it enough to stay, or at least, drop in more frequently.

So many changes, so few things that've stayed the way they were.

I'm at my busiest at work. Two consecutive years of being a stellar performer, and then one year of being not-so-good. Makes me realise the value behind Avis' line- "we try harder" . I've also done things I didn't ever think I'd do. Go parasailing, white water rafting, build a team, fire a team member.. . . Its tougher being a boss, than being an employee. Its also when I've realised the value if having had bad bosses. BECAUSE I've had bad bosses, I consciously try to be at least better than them. But its still difficult to make people toe the line, when they're so obviously not cut out for it.

I've also been trying to make peace with the fact that I'll never have enough time for my son. That I'm a far far throw from the Mom I dreamt I'd be. That I'm not a fun mother, cos half the time, I'm too tired to be fun. Cos there's housework to be done. And cooking. And clothes to be folded. And newspapers and books and toys to be put away. Which doesn't in the least bother the other two humans in the house. Grrr.

That reminds me of the other huge change. Trinity is no more a part of our daily lives. Its a loss I try to come to terms with every time I see a dog, a wagging tail, friendly doggy eyes, a wet nose. Sigh. I so hope I get us another furbaby, but I don't know. Life is so uncertain. I barely have time for my son. And the husband takes responsibility for the son, but has categorically told me a dog is MY responsibility. Mean man.

And now, there seem to be some more changes down the line. Which is when I realise that little as it has been , the us-time has been there. And I miss them. Miss having the Acha around to yell at for everything. :-) Miss being able to entrust Sonny boy's homework to him while I potter about in the kitchen. This year, ( After the time we kept a maid for a week while I was pregnant) we've kept a cook for the first time ever. I don't like her food. And I don't like her in my kitchen. But it does save me some time. So I'm learning to lump it.

More later.

Madras memories. . .

Yesterday, I was awaiting a client, watching TV at their office reception when I got to know that there was a Madras Day, which was being celebrated yesterday. Apparently it's celebrated on 22nd Aug, every year, and has been prevalent from 2004 and more actively, 2008. . I'd never heard of it till yesterday tho'.

But it brought back memories. . . .

Going back to those mad, glad days of MBA, Madras was where the Acha, another friend and myself had gotten our summer projects.. .  I had to do concept testing among specialist doctors, for a dietary fibre supplement that was being launched. The Acha had industrial vaccuum cleaners as his product and he had to cover hospitals, among other establishments, as part of his research. The other friend, D, was doing hers in an IT company, but she started earlier than the 2 of us, and so finished her assigned project at about the time the Acha and I started. To say that the 3 of us had a lovely time would be an understatement.

D and I were staying with our respective cousins, at Velachery and Kodambakkam, and the Acha was staying at the World University Service Centre, Chetpet.  Either before, during or after our respective sojourns for the day, we'd  meet up and sometimes, the Acha and I got to club our journeys, as hospitals formed common ground for both of our surveys.
Having spent all my school holidays in Tamil Nadu, I could speak Tamil pretty well, but couldn't read. The Acha being a pretty resourceful fellow, learnt to read and speak Tamil enough to understand/make himself understood in the 1 month that we were there. While Madras had a very admirable and  reliable system of bus numbers, there still were some places where we needed to know the destination written on the bus boards. Once we had to go to some industrial park near Aadambakkam, and the Acha scoffed at me when I expressed my reservations over how we'd get there. He said all we needed was to get on an Aadambakkam bus. Since it was wayyy too far, we agreed to go together. We waited patiently, but the Aadambakkam bus just wasn't coming, and we were getting late. Finally there lumbered up a bus.
The Acha looked up at the board, and read-
"Aa Aaa,. . " The 2 of us got up from our seat at the bus stop.
"Aaa  da. . ."  We went eagerly to towards the bus.
"Aaa dam ba. . ." I looked at him irritatedly. "Read FAST, the bus is about to go!!"
"Yeah, wait!! Aadam ba kka..  .   AadambaKKAM!!! come on. .. !! its our bus!"
But the bus had its own idea of whose it was, and had gone its way, leaving me convulsed in laughter at the Tamil reading efforts of the Acha.

The Acha had some other experiences too.
Once we were at Kilpauk Medical College, and the Acha finished his vaccuum cleaner questionnaire with the Hospital Admin guy pretty fast. But me- I had to visit at least some 5 specialists, and await my turn with the patients and sometimes I'd feel sorry to see some of them pretty unwell. I did manage to get in before the medical reps tho'. My last stop was at the Gynaecology Wing. The Acha was asked to wait for me outside Gynaec OPD, but it also happened to connect to the Labour Room from another side. And while he was waiting for me, the Acha was confronted with women in various stages of labour,  in various states of undress, with multiple moans and groans, walking about between their contractions!!! After that, he flatly refused to come with me to the Gynaec Dept of hospitals.
So hospitals were out, but there still were some specialists who consulted from home.
There was this lady doc who was supposedly famous, and much in demand, and of course she was there in my list of doctors to be met. It was at the fag end of the day, and it so happened that once again, only the Acha was with me. This was soon after the Kilpauk incident and the Acha said that he was NOT coming inside with me to the waiting area.  I agreed, said I'd be back soon; and he waited outside on the road, while I went inside the gates of the house. The compounder gave me a smile. I smiled back at him warmly, I needed to get in ahead of any other waiting patients if possible, right? Thankfully, there were not many, and I requested the compounder if I could go in, as I'd not be taking much time, and had only a few questions to ask the doc.  He smiled and agreed, and I went in , had a good chat with the doc, and came out happy with my visit.
Not so, the Acha. Apparently, the compounder assumed that I was pregnant, and moreover, that the Acha was the father, as he was pacing restlessly up and down outside the gate. He'd gone out and asked the Acha to come in and have a seat, when the Acha declined politely. At which the compounder smiled reassuringly, and asked if it was the first one or something to that effect, and asked the non-smoking Acha if he wanted a cigarette. Coming out beaming, to greet a harried-looking Acha, I bid a warm goodbye to the friendly compounder, albeit the Acha's goodbye was rather strained.
I collapsed in gales of laughter when the Acha related the incident to to me.
Years later, when I was really pregnant and we were waiting to see my gynaec, we were to laugh over this memory, but at the time, I had no inkling that this guy would turn out to be the father of my child.

Sharing the Language of Love indeed!

Some months back, I'd participated in a Google Hangout to support Johnson's Baby's 'Share the Language of Love' campaign. Couple of weeks back, I got a totally unexpected call. And earlier this week, the pleasantest surprise met me at home. . .

 

I loved that it wasn't an impersonal courier, but hand delivered. I beamed delightedly at the delivery person, as I thanked him, and he beamed right back at me.
Being evening, Sonny boy was also home, and after the man left, he opened it. What wafted out first was that familiar, ever so  loved fragrance. It brought back memories of baby cuddles and snuggles,  and warm, soft baby skin, and all things baby. Mmmmmmmm. . ..  It made me wish I had a baby again. . . almost!

Sonny boy laid claim to the mug and the pen and the notebook. All the rest, he magnanimously allowed me to keep.
Thank you ever so much, Johnson's Baby! Its a most thoughtfully put together hamper.

From Sarjapur Road to HSR Layout.

So, end April, we moved- from a spacious 3 bedroom  in a sprawling apartment complex with all amenities; to a cosy 2 bedroom house in a peaceful layout. This, because we invested in another apartment- which hopefully will be ready to welcome us in Dec- and we needed to balance the EMI and rent with  the monies being deposited in the bank at the month end. We had been in the earlier apartment for over 6 years, and initially, all 3 of us, especially Sonny Boy, had some trouble adjusting, but a house has its delights.  

In this house, we don’t have a swimming pool, or a clubhouse, or a badminton court, or a big play area. But the first day itself, neighbouring kids came in search of my son. There were no small groups, just one large group, which welcomed Sonny boy into their midst.  The road is their playground. Cricket is the all time favourite, but football was all the rage  during World Cup season. Here, Sonny boy learns to tackle traffic on roads while he cycles.

Here, we don’t have a long paved pathway for morning and evening walks, but instead, the criss-crossing roads in the layout are wide, with shade giving trees on both sides, and peaceful dogs snoozing outside houses next to each other.  From provisions, to veggies, to momos, to curries, to dosa batter, small shops a walk away, sell anything you could think of, at economical prices.  The nearest little petty shop 2 min away, is only about the size of 2 aisles in the supermarket opposite our earlier apartment. But the lady/husband/neighbour there has everything at their fingertips. 

Tarkaaaari, paypaaar, sopppuuuu, hoovuuuu- I can hear all the local vendors going past, and can run down if I’m interested.  There even is an ice cream man ringing his bell invitingly as he passes by in the late mornings.. which brought back memories of my childhood summers. The only thing missing was the nelakadala man.

Maids cost a fraction of what they used to at the earlier complex. Neither do they dictate terms as to what will be done and what will not.

For more than a decade, we’d forgotten what it was like to have un-water-stained bathrooms, and taps and buckets.  With Cauvery water, we welcomed back clean bathrooms, and unspotty vessels.  Unsticky hair and clean white clothes. (as clean as can be expected of a 10 year old boy). Water ran in taps 24/7.

For more than a decade, we’d also forgotten what it was to not have electricity at times. Here the first time power went, we had to search out 10 year old candles. It reminded me of power cut times back in Kerala that we kids would look forward to.  We’d sit out on the verandah steps, enjoying the night breeze, swatting away the ubiquitous mosquitoes, chatting, playing word building, or making shadows on the walls. In this house, we don’t have a verandah to sit on, and the doors and windows have meshes, so thankfully very less mosquitoes, but once in a while, we do have a cande lit dinner.

We have 2 neighbours- one downstairs, and one next door. The downstairs family is nice- a family of 5- a couple, 2 kids( boys) , and the MIL-, but can’t say that about  our next door neighbours- a young couple. I have never seen such anti-social people! They have a particular antipathy towards the downstairs family the reason for which I’m unable to fathom. They complain that the kids make noise but in the 5 months we’ve been here, I’ve never felt it so. Our common maid told me that they complained to the downstairs lady, of the noise her mixie made, and also of the din her cooker whistle made in the morning! The house has a spacious car park, where all 3 families can park their cars and bikes. But, in the evenings, the next door man takes his car outside the car park and parks it on the road,  to prevent kids playing outside our house. That’s how nasty they can be. So far, we’ve not had any run-ins with them ourselves.

The only thing I miss here, is the click of paws on the floor. Sigh!

The 'Modi'fication of India

 Election Results Day, and the country seems engulfed in an orange haze. Change, they say is good, and Indians seem to have taken this very much to heart.

Like someone commented on FB, there was no Modi wave, rather, there seems to have been a Modi tsunami! All I can hope for now is that this tsunami spills well being and progress among the citizens, instead of destruction.

I had not been a Modi supporter. I did not vote for BJP, only because I didn't want BJP at the helm of the country. This was NOT because I wanted namby pamby Rahul Gandhi,(what a sad excuse for ANYTHING he is, unless it be a good Mama's boy!) or because I wanted Kejriwal either. Like I was commenting to a friend who was aghast that I hadn't voted for BJP, it was just that I was not comfortable with the fact that there were people in secular, tolerant India, who were AFRAID of Modi getting into the PM 's seat.  They may not have wanted a Congress or an AAP. But they certainly had no FEARS regarding either of them coming into power. Whereas there were strong fears over what would be the state of the nation with Modi coming to power. These fears to the best of my understanding were over secularism and the status of women.

But now that he has come to power ( And how!!), I hope that he is blessed  by God with powers to make our dear country powerful- economically, militarily, culturally, socially. That his tenure remains stable and that it can be remembered as a golden period for Indians. ( Like how in our history lessons, we learnt about the Golden Period of various emperors, I hope the next 5 years are his. For he has been projected as nothing short of an emperor these last 2 months. With men bowing to his lightest whim.)

1. I hope in his tenure, women across each and every state feel proud to be women. And are empowered to be equal citizens, walking shoulder to shoulder with men ,  in every sphere.

2. I hope that temples, mosques, churches, synagogues, gurudwaras, dargahs, all thrive in harmony. I hope religious fanatic cronies are kept on the periphery of matters, and not given undue powers or importance.

I do not profess to be very knowledgeable on the  economic and military strength of our country, but-
3. I hope that economically and militarily, we grow into a nation to be reckoned with. That Modi is able to let us blossom into a country that is prosperous, and self reliant. That we will be able to look any potential detractors in the eye, and make it very clear that aggression in any form, will not be tolerated, or taken lying down. No more Devyani Khobragades, please.

4. That we learn to be proud of our heritage. That as much as we take pride in our past, we go on to create newer landmarks, spiritually and materially.

5. I hope we hear less of corruption and scams, and more of meritocracy and efficiencies across all departments. That we have less of the super rich and super poor. That the gaps are lessened significantly between the haves and the have-nots.

6. I hope that every Indian, irrespective of caste, creed or sex,  gets water, food, electricity, and last, but not least, right to freedom of expression. Unshackled in any way.

Its a tall task, and there will be people waiting for you to take a step wrong ( as will always be the case when there are others vying for the same position).  
Here's to a good rule over the country, Mr. Modi! May you have good, capable advisors, and less of sycophants around you.  May you show your naysayers  ( I was one of them) that their fears were unfounded, and may you take our country to heights of prosperity.  God bless!

Of Gods and Goddesses

Today had a visit from our landlord, a good man, who in the course of other conversation, asked who our family deity was. And I told him that we worshipped all deities. Indeed he could see for himself that my puja room held a Vishnu and a Krishna and a Shiva and a Devi and . . . . lots more. But he was not satisfied. He insisted- you must have an ishtadevathai (favourite God)- all of us have one. . . I could see that he wanted ONE answer from me,  so I told him Shiva. He nodded in appreciation and told me that his was Lakshmi- Narasimha.

And then he told me, See, when you dig for water in a well, if you dig in the same place, even if you have to dig longer, you will ultimately get water. This saves you the bigger effort of digging in 3-4 different places. Same is the things with Gods. If you pray consistently to one God, you get more results.
I smiled, and agreed with the well-digging logic wholeheartedly. But after he left, I mulled upon that logic.

My principle is to not put all my eggs into one basket, I guess. When I pray, I pray to ALL my Gods. Starting from when I was a kid, to now when I'm the mother of a kid, from the mundane to the profound,  . I have changed allegiances, made joint petitions, I have prayed to Gods of a different religion as well, with as much faith as I did to my Hindu Gods. . . .  but never have I been consistently faithful to only one God. Some prayers were granted easily, some not, and some after a long wait, but ultimately, He/She has answered most of  my prayers. And if there has been a delay, I believe that He/She has a bigger plan for me.

The God of my childhood prayers used to be the Sundareswara in the local temple. The temple used to be the one I went most often to, and He was my fave deity, all through school and college, but even then, during exams, Saraswati used to occupy prominence.. .
When I went to University, Sundareswaran  changed avatar to Sreekantwesara, the deity at the temple in Calicut that I most often went to. And then there was Kadampuzha Bhagavathy, how can I forget Her?

Calicut University was in Malappuram district, and this temple used to be an hour's bus journey away. But the deity was a powerful one. . . The story I grew up on goes back to the days when Shiva and Parvathy were wandering as Kiratas ( tribals/hunters) . In the course of their wanderings, Parvathy developed a thirst, and wanted water. They searched some way, but couldn't find a water source. Parvathy was thirsty beyond words by now and  looked appealingly at Shiva. Shiva told her to wait there, and went hither and thither, but could still not find a river or lake or brook or spring anywhere nearby. He came back and reported to Parvathy that there was not a drop of water to be found anywhere near. A disconsolate Parvathy sank down to the ground and said she couldn't take another step till she had some water. She looked beseechingly at her husband. At this, Shiva the kaadan (forester) strung his bow and aimed his ambu (arrow)  into the ground. Lo and behold a puzha (mountain stream) gushed out. . he cupped the delicious water and gave it to Parvathy, who quenched her thirst happily. Belief has it that this place is where the Kadampuzha ( kaadan+ambu+puzha) temple is located.  The deity is Parvathy as Vanadurga. And the lore goes that here - since this is where Shiva overcame the impossible and got water for his beloved at her asking- if you ask the goddess for your heart's desire, she will prevail upon Shiva to grant it. . . The main offering here is breaking of coconuts- muttarakkal. The deity is a small idol on the ground and there is a wedge'opening in the floor in front of Her. The priest breaks the coconut and lets the water flow into the earth below,  symbolically quenching the Goddess' thirst all over again, and pleasing her. Hundreds of coconuts are broken here every day, but all that water miraculously disappears into the earth. The priests also have their way of reading the coconuts. At times, the nut does not break into 2 halves or is a nut gone bad, in which case it means that there is an obstacle to your request. To get the Goddess to overcome this obstacle, you are directed to go and get another coconut  and break it again. .  People come there in droves, to break coconuts for multiple reasons- marks, job, marriage, house, kid, overseas posting, tackling enmities. .. you can break a coconut for a non -Hindu friend too, ( you have to give the name and reason for the offering)  tho' they are not allowed into the temple.
Needless to say, along with the rest of my classmates, this was a Goddess that was visited very frequently during the 3 odd years I spend there, doing first my Masters in English Literature, and then my Masters in Business Administration.
There is another legend also, around another main offering- poomoodal- of the Kadampuzha  temple. Since Arjuna got the Pashupatastra from Shiva and Parvathy here, with which ultimately he prevailed over his enemies , the Kauravas, this legend is the reason why so many people come there for resolution of their shatrudosham ( harm from enemies). Booking for this offering however, are closed temporarily, since this has been booked for some years in advance.
Last year, during one of our trips to Calicut, when we'd been there, the temple was being renovated and we could not enter inside, nor could we break coconuts.  The Goddess has her moods, and only if she wishes it, do you get to meet her and offer her coconut water to appease her thirst. . . 

without you. . .

Tomorrow will be the 40th day since you left us.  Officially  40 days is a period of mourning for us mallus. I wonder if it ever ends, unofficially. . .

Not a day passes when you haven't been thought about, spoken about, LOVED, even more so than when you were with us, if that is possible.  There are time when my heart literally aches with wanting to run my hands over your fur. Feel your warm, live, breathng  body beneath my hands. Was this how you felt, my darling, when we left you behind at home on our Cochin and Kannur trips?

And the nights. . . those times when it'd be just you and me, either watching tv, or facebooking, or blogging (long back) and you'd curl up cosily along with me in whichever room I happened to be in. And then when it was finally time to go to bed, I'd get up and stretch, and you'd lift your head up sleepily from wherever near me you were, and thank your doggy Gods that this woman had finally seen fit to go to sleep. And we'd go together and join the Acha and Sonny boy. Where were those Gods, my darling, when you were being misdiagnosed?

Do you know that nearly every day when I get up and go to sleep, I wipe a few tears off? Do you see those tears, my darling, that no one else is allowed to see? Do you ache to lick them off my face and comfort me? But ah, there is no comfort. Only emptiness.

The Acha groans every now and then as something or the other reminds him of you. . .a fallen morsel of food, the crinkling of polythene packets that never failed to get you up and running to check enquiringly as to what was being opened. I don't think he ever expected to miss you so. But then, he'd never loved and been loved by a dog like you before. Never seen that unconditional love shining out of melting brown eyes, spread  in the house by the happy wag of your tail.

 These days when we open the car, a fragrant perfume wafts out. . . and I'd give anything in this whole wide world to have it smelling of you, and to have it looking totally unkempt with your fur peeping out from all nooks and crannies.

Sonny boy has his summer holidays. He's home with his Ammamma. He talks every day about the puppies at his Moothamma's and at the neighbour's.
About how they jump up till his knees, like you.
And how they nibble his shorts just like you.
And how they are jealous, just like you..
He told me tonight that he dreamt of you last night. Of you coming back from the dead, and that you grew flesh and then fur. He told me that you freaked him out when you came back from the dead.  but then, that you grew all that golden brown fur, "just like Trinity, and there was no patch also". And it was when he mentioned that patch, that it struck me how MUCH he misses you too.  Both of us kept quiet after he said that, each lost in our own sweet memories of you. And he said- 'she didn't deserve to die but". I couldn't agree more.

Can you come back from the dead, darling?

Mars and Venus

When I fall ill, I tend to curl up and draw into my shell. I shun company, especially solicitude and prefer to let the sickness work its way out of my system.

When the Acha falls ill, like a man, he lurrrrves attention, mollycoddling and generally making a mountain out of a molehill.

With our two opposite natures, when I fall sick, the Acha tends to be all over me, irritating me all the more with his solicitude.
When the Acha falls sick, I tend to leave him alone, catering to his needs, but not to his wants, offending the Acha with my seeming indifference.

The refrain is more or less the same in both cases.
When I'm unwell, every ten minutes, the Acha goes- "Jayelteeeeeee, you're unwell, ayyo paavam, what do you want, darling?" And I give him a speaking look and turn over to the other side.
When he's unwell, every ten minutes the Acha goes, " Jayelteeeee, ayyyyyyooooooo, am not well at all, I think I'm dying, darling, come and sit near me and stroke my forehead/rub my back/massage my legs. . . " I give him a glare and after perfunctorily performing whatever requested, walk off, telling him to keep quiet and take rest.

Lol. Whoever said opposites attract should be shot!
Poor Acha! Unwell, and alone, and having to take care of Sonny boy and T to boot! Muahhh, darling!

A full plate

Am in Chennai today and tomorrow. And after that, my boss is going to be in Bangalore on Thurs and Fri.

The Acha has been complaining of a stomach ache for a few days now. Is more when he walks or bends and stretches. Am worried that it could be appendix related.
These are times when I wish I didn't have a high pressure job. I'd hound the man into going to the doc or for tests, cos I wouldn't have much else to think about. But now- I have too much on my plate

1. Am doing good on numbers overall, but one of my team mates isn't doing too well on his numbers, not for want of effort. But somehow the results aren't coming through. ..
2. One of my biggest revenue earners in Chennai is down to half last year's revenue. . .
3. I want to cut down on the travel,, but seem to be having to travel more than ever now. .. .
4. Have been unwell, am better, but now the Acha has caught my nasty cold. . .
5. On top of it he has this nagging stomach pain. . .
6. Am worried Sonny boy will catch cold and get unwell too. . .
7. My usual guilt at not being able to pay Sonny boy the kind of attention I'd like to  is ever present!

With all this, am irritated with the poor Acha for falling sick.
Sigh. Whoever said life is easy?

T, Tommy, Brownie, Ghost and Blackie

I love dogs. Mine and others' and strays too. T, our Lab, has many canine neighbours who'd like to be friends with her. But since being friends with her requires also being friends with me, Madam will have none of it! Possessive to the core where I'm concerned, she chases away most dogs who come around wagging their tails when we go for our walks.

For starters there's Brownie and Tommy, two dogs who guard our apartment gate and who were already established when we moved in. One of the security guards gave Tommy its name, and the other one is a brown dog, hence Brownie. These two used to be friendly initially, but after T started growling and rushing at them aggressively, they got miffed, and decided to give tit for tat.  As a result, the whole apartment used to get roused whenever we took T out for a walk. Brownie and Tommy's favourite haunt was by the gates, in proximity to the security guards.  We'd have to pass the gate, which is when the rousing barks and snarls would begin. T, normally a most good natured and friendly dog, would metamorphose into her Hyde personality. Incensed at seeing the dogs in what she considered her territory, she would bark ferociously and strain at the leash, trying to get at them.  The dogs returned the sentiment wholeheartedly, grinning and snarling ill temperedly at T.
There was another reason for this, which we found out much later. When our maid used to take T out for her walk, she was allowed to sniff around the dogs' water bowl and food that used to be lying around (something that was a strict no-no with us). Naturally, the strays did not take this kind of intrusive behaviour lying down. Hence the mutual antipathy.
After a time, it grew to be such a scene, that I was forced to ask the guards to shoo away the dogs when we came  for our walk. I hated doing this, but there was no alternative. But even so, we'd still have an encounter on the roads, and Marley like scenes with either the Acha or I running where T led, were quite common. Which is when I decided to make friends with the dogs without T noticing.
Accordingly, the Acha would go ahead with T, while I would lag behind. Initially, I tried with some biscuits or snacks, but later just affection was enough for the dogs. They sensed that I liked them. They'd grin at T, and then once she was at a safe distance, wag their tails at me.  Gradually, the relationship grew to an extent where I'd shush the dogs instead of shooing them away, telling them that it was only us! Of course, this was also over a course of time, by when both T and the dogs had marked their boundaries and liberties, and had settled down into a wary tolerance that could snap at the least provocation.

Also by this time, lots of stray pups entered the scene- probably sired or borne by either Tommy or Brownie. And T got entirely distracted away from her old rivals. There were newer ones on the scene! But somehow, T's motherly instincts came to the fore with the pups, and  though enormously curious about them, she was never aggressive, the way she was with the adult dogs. Also the pups used to scamper away in fright whenever we drew near. Over a period, the pups grew up, but they accepted the suzerainty of T over her domain, and would slink away whenever we came close.

Until, Blackie and Ghost. These were a black dog, and a pale brown shadow of a dog respectively, both quite young, that would materialise out of nowhere when we turned onto a particular bylane.  The Ghost would stare at us unnervingly and keep its distance.  No wag of the tail here to a snap of the fingers or a whistle, just a quiet watchfulness.  As we approached it would disappear into the shrubs by the side of the road, coming out again to stare, once we'd passed.
Not so, Blackie. He was black as the night, and in the beginning, T would almost be on top of him, nosing around for a suitable shrub to pee on, before either of them realised the other's presence. A startled T would bark and make a rush for him, more out of jumpiness than any aggression, and Blackie would yelp and make a run for it, in panic.  After a couple of such bark-and-run incidents, both of them grew used to the other's presence. Blackie started to follow T on her route in his area. But his initial scare remained and he maintained a healthy distance from us. He however was responsive to gestures of affection made by me, though very warily in the beginning. The Acha would scold me for that, saying 'you'll make T jealous of her now, and soon we'll have rousing barks here too'. And the very practical Acha would shoo him off if he came too close.
But something about Blackie was very cute and I couldn't help talking affectionately to him whenever he was close.  Blackie would prick his ears in attention, and twitch his tail, but keep a  watchful eye on T and the Acha. He'd never come and rub himself against me, and lick my fingers like Tommy would. But Tommy was used to affection from the Security guards whereas Blackie was a total stray. Gradually, he came to wag his scrawny tail at my talk, and follow, but he didn't come come close enough for a sniff..

For the last 2 weeks, I'd been traveling and unwell, and had not been accompanying T on her walks. It had been the Acha and T on their own.
Yesterday, having successfully transferred my germs to the Acha, it was he who stayed back at home, while I took T for her walk.  In the distance I saw Blackie's silhouette.  He came trotting forward. His tail wagged nineteen to the dozen.  Clearly he was delighted to have me back. Not so T, who didn't appreciate the sudden closeness.  I was torn between saying a warm hello to Blackie and keeping him at a distance from T. If only the Acha had been there!  Another day, Blackie, soon. Lets just wait for the Acha to get better, so I can hand over T to him and devote some attention to you. . . 

Cheating. . . a bit!

So we near the end of the month, and I find that I only have 16 posts, instead of 28. And this is including the 2 last 2 posts. The next week, am again going to be traveling again, so I'm going to be running short of posts by the deadline. So, skewing the rules a bit, here's a review of a movie that I did sometime back on another site.  This was written some years back- before this blog came into existence.  I'm posting it as is, without making any changes to it. Cross posting IS posting, in a way. Isn't it?

I read and was touched by Movie Zombie’s review on Parzania.
It reminded me of a movie by a debutante director- Blessy, in Mollywood. The same subject, treated by a different director, which yielded another heart touching classic. 

Blessy, the director of this movie, has dedicated it to the late P. Padmarajan who was was one of the all-time greats of Mollywood and whom he used to assist . The movie is a real tribute to him. It  talks about the bond of love that can spring up and grow, between persons totally unconnected by blood/language ties. But society finds it hard to let that love flourish unhindered....

Madhavan (Mammooty) is a 16 mm film operator, who tours festival grounds screening movies. In the course of his travels, he falls across an urchin, Bhuvan (Master Yash) who decides to befriend Madhavan. Madhavan is initially irritated by the boy, especially as he cannot understand a word of what he says. But gradually he gets attached to the boy and when he goes home, takes the boy with him, as the boy is alone and friendless. He manages to gather that post the quake in Gujarat the little boy had somehow reached the shores of Kerala and landed up with street children.

Madhavan’s family consists of his wife Lakshmi (Padmapriya) and a daughter Ambili (Baby Sanusha). They too open their hearts and home to the homeless waif, especially Ambili, and soon they are like one big happy family, loving and laughing. Bhuvan saves Ambili from drowning in a flash flood and that is when Madhavan, along with us viewers, realises how much the once homeless, vagabond boy has come to mean to him.  Post this incident, the boy becomes a local hero, but that proves to be for worse than for better.

Local politicians get into the act and  question the motives behind Madhavan harboring the boy in his house and ultimately get the child put into a Juvenile Home. The entire family is distraught at the sudden turn of events. Madhavan tries to formally adopt the boy, but for this, he has to first prove that the boy’s natural parents are no more in this world. And so, Madhavan leaves for Gujarat with the child, for only Bhuvan can recognise/remember his home/parents. But Gujarat, once they get there, is nothing like the place in little Bhuvan’s dreams.  What happens next forms the end to the movie- an end that wrenches at your guts.

After reading Zombie’s review on Parzania, what struck me was that almost the same incident forms the base of the two movies- the loss of a child. But while Parzania looks at it from the point of view of the parents who have lost, and are still searching for their son (as a parent myself, my heart goes out to the parents, how terrible an ordeal every passing day must be for them! God grant that they get their son back safe and unharmed); Kazcha looks at it from the point of view of the little son who has gotten lost and is trying to find his way back to his parents, failing which, at least  get back to a family that loves him as a son.

All of the actors have slipped into their roles seamlessly. -Mammooty effortlessly portrays the gamut of emotions from tolerance to affection to the protective love of a father. He won the national award for his role in this movie. It is hard to imagine Padmapriya as a glamorous model which she is in real life- she is the epitome of a middle class Mallu housewife- a loving wife and mother. Baby Sanusha shows you how simply and unconditionally children accept  and love. The countryside scenes are typically God’s Own Country- green and lush, and with undulating backwaters and fields. The politicians are also typical politicians- they cannot see a good thing happening without having their names linked up with it, and in the process manage to muck up the whole thing and create bad out of good. The songs in this movie are a treat for the eyes and ears. The Gujju song Jugnu re where Bhuvan remembers what he can of his folks and his home, and the song Kunhe ninakku vendi which shows the love of a father for his son are especially poignant. Kerala’s monsoons are beautifully depicted in dappu dappu Janaki. Lyrics are by Kaithapram Damodaran Namboodiri and music is by Mohan Sithara. There is a foot tapping number in the backdrop of the backwaters..

But what struck me the most about this movie was the little boy Bhuvan.
Master Yash simply tugs at your heartstrings.any which way you look at it.. As a forlorn, homeless waif in the initial scenes. The way he tries to makes himself useful in little ways and sometimes ends up being more trouble than help reminds you of your own little ones at home. He worms his way into your heart with his cute little lopsided smile and chubby features. Your heart goes out to him when  seeing the happy togetherness of Madhavan’s family, he is reminded of his own mother and father, from whom he has been parted so cruelly, at so young an age. And the scene where after he rescues Ambili, everybody crowds around the girl and he feels forgotten is poignant. He knows he is part of the family, and yet he doesn’t feel enough part of the family to cry and get comforted, but then Madhavan realising this gathers him into his arms and holds him close, never to let him go, almost...
The despair and helpnessness of the household when they HAVE to let go of Bhuvan makes you feel so helpless too. And it is heartbreaking to see his bafflement at the remnants of the Gujarat of his dreams.

The movie makes you wonder about the  humanity of humans, the absolute uselessness and heartlessness of bureaucracy and at the power of love that transcends barriers of geography and language and age. And it makes you ache at the futility of certain things that have not changed in our lifetime, but maybe will in our children’s.

P. Padmarajan would be proud of his disciple Blessy Ipe Thomas’ Gurudakshina.

Finally. .. Tada!

The saga of the shoe rack finally comes to a (happy) end.

My corner stand, in my last post, was an off-shoot  of the search for the shoe rack. Finally after much traipsing around, in shops big and small, we finally found one.

I'd have much preferred a simpler one, without the slightly garish leather with the white stitches, but to tell the truth, I was fed-up and just wanted one that was big enough to hold all our current pairs, and newer ones to come.
I liked one that looked like a tallboy. The husband glared at me and told me that we'd have to maintain the number at whatever it was at currently, and to just buy the smaller one. It can barely hold the pairs of the three of us!

So- here it is- finally. :-)