Change....

This year, Sonny boy has stopped having tuitions. He'd been having them for the last 3 years.

It was not that he needed extra coaching. It was more that since the tuitions were in the evening, we had found a way to keep him occupied till one of us at least got home. Our house keeper would stay till about 6-6.30 and then she'd have to leave. We'd reach home only post 7 in the normal scenario.  The tuition class - 4 days a week- would start at 6.30 and go on till 8.
The timing was perfect, giving us enough time to get home and for me to get into 'home' mode.  The only pity was that we got to see so little of him, where we could generally chit-chat.
But then, earlier too, there used to be no time for that. After getting back at 7, we used to have an hour or two of homework sessions- gruelling for both of us. The last thing I wanted after a day's work at office was to yell and shout at my easily distracted son. (And I was not happy with the Acha supervising homework either, for he was not bothered about the quality of writing, in the effort to finish the quantity.) It was my Mom who advised me to lookout for a tuition teacher, saying that that would be better than subjecting Sonny boy to the daily shouting scene. Though initially I scoffed at her and the idea of tuitions for a kindergarten kid, of well educated and articulate parents, looking back, it was such a lifesaver. Moms do know best! Always.

We looked out for, and found B ma'am. There's a saying that goes- When God closes a door, He opens a window somewhere. For us, God's window opened out to B ma'am. She's a gem of a person. Sincere, and dedicated to a fault. Sonny boy liked her and had a healthy respect for her. Soon, the Acha and I learned that she was a hard taskmaster, taking us to task if the son hadn't done his work. We didn't have to worry about school homework, but we had a new worry. Tuition homework!!!! And since she would call/sms both of us,  both of us took care to make Sonny boy finish his work on time- as much as possible.
When we had to shift houses in between, we took extra effort to find one on the surroundings and finally landed one in the same complex, ONLY because of her.

This year, she's moving out into her new house, which is why the tuition has stopped.  But we'll be eternally grateful to her for the period in which she took care of our son for us.  Now Sonny boy is 9 years old. Old enough to be left alone in the complex even if either of us aren't around.   But we still try and make that time as negligible as possible. Which is another reason we scouted around for other classes for him.

So now, he goes for
Carnatic music- Mon and Thurs  ( the last 2 years)
Badminton- Wed and Fri ( the last year)
Keyboard- Sat.( this summer)

He has a good ear for music, but he's not too good at the singing part.  He fails to pitch his voice high or low as required.. .  the modulation is not there. I don't know if I'm being too critical. The worst part is that, being laypersons at music, neither the Acha nor I know to tell him where and how he's going wrong. We know he's wrong, but don't want to correct him for fear that we'd be telling him the wrong thing. There has, however, been some progress over the last 2 years.

He's doing good in badminton, and has progressed to the next level.

Keyboard is a very recent addition. He started it during the summer, when he went to spend his hols with his Ammamma. And my Mom being the busy beaver she is, searched around for something to keep him occupied, and found keyboard and guitar classes. He was not too fond of the guitar- said it hurt his fingers. But he liked keyboard and wanted to continue. So- we've just found a teacher and enrolled him for classes.

The music and the badminton are in our apartment complex itself, but the keyboard classes are out. And the class lasts for an hour, which is best spent there itself. . . Which brings me to the question of whether I should also learn keyboard. Or some other musical instrument.  They also have violin classes, an instrument I've always been very fond of. Am very tempted, but am afraid that I'll not stick on. Also- I have never had any formal education in music, so am a bit diffident as well. 

Dark is beautiful

Stay unfair, stay beautiful, says Nandita Das in her campaign against the fairness fetish that is sweeping India like an epidemic. Till some time back, the fetish unfairly (pun intended)  applied only to girls, but now boys have also been bitten by this bug. Fairness, the great leveller, you could say.

While I was definitely not fair, my sister was darker than me. Thankfully, Mom was not the type to overly criticise us for our looks, and my sister was the lazy kind who couldn't be bothered to use all those potions- be they traditional or modern- to enhance fairness. So Dad's wallet remained intact. All we knew of fairness creams were the ads. (Vicco Turmeric was the more prevalent one. Fair & Lovely was yet to topple Vicco off the pedestal ) Till the time came for my sister to be 'seen' by prospective suitors.  No one specifically mentioned colour as a reason, but of the stream of suitors continued over 2 years. . . ! Finally, my BIL materialised right out of our backyard, so to say. Our families knew each other well, he'd taught her in college, and finally the match was arranged. But then, colour became a REAL issue! He was milk n roses fair while she was dark. The beauty regime started-  haldi, curd, athu ( husk of some plant), punnakku ( to make skin smooth . . . But the genes stuck to their stand, my sister was her dad's daughter alright! The pair got married. And in due time, were expecting an addition to the family. Started the pressure again- Everyone in your husband's family is FAIR, the baby has to be fair too, Drink saffron in milk, drink lots of fruit juices, eat that, drink this. . .  advice poured in from all quarters.

When I fell in love with the Acha, his looks had nothing to do with it. He was thin as a rake, and dark as a cloud. We used to link hands together and laugh at the fact that our fingers looked like zebra stripes. But he has a smile (still) that is literally like the sun breaking through the clouds. And he has a sense of humour ( still) that can brighten up any day, no matter how bleak it may be . Relatives brought in his skin colour, but fortunately or unfortunately, they had a whole lot of other issues to think of, so I escaped the fair-dark angle. And when Sonny boy was on the way, I puked from the second month all the way to the operation theatre, so there was nothing much anyone could advise me to take for the baby's fair skin.
Sonny boy has his Acha's skin. Dry and dark. But though dry skin is an issue at home, and I take lots of effort to make his skin less dry, I'm least bothered about the colour of his skin, which is why, it came as a shock to me when in one of his rare confidences, he said- I wish I was as fair as you. This was some months back, but this memory sprang up just now. I remember asking him why he said that. He shrugged and said- Just like that... everybody in my class is fairer than me. The Acha told him that Krishna was dark, and yet he was so popular and loved by everyone. But Sonny boy was not entirely convinced. Or if he was, I think he wished to be not as special as Krishna.
And I wondered at what went on in class/school. . . At how prejudices were sown in such a young age. . .

I can understand that it will take time in India for the fair equals beautiful  syndrome to be overthrown, as far as women are concerned. It is too deep rooted a belief. But when on earth did our men catch this fetish for fair skin?? I think Shahrukh and Shahid look pathetic in their ads advocating the use of a fairness cream.  Handsome is as handsome does, is an adage that seems to be getting whittled away by Fair and Lovely. Unless we take a stand at least now.
A sparkle in your eye, a smile on your lips,  a glow on your face, a spring in your steps- these are what the young men and women of today need to strive for. And these are things that emanate from within, from being a confident, happy, healthy person. Which is all you need to be. The colour of your skin is- should be- immaterial. 

Karkidakam and all that comes with it

It is the holy month of fasting for Muslims.  Hindus and Muslims have more in common than than you know-it is also the holy month for Hindus, starting from July 16th. The Karkidaka masam. Or the Ramayana masam. When traditionally, in most Hindu homes, the Ramayanam gets recited. Most temples have Ramayanam recitals too, during this month.
Closer home, my mother-in-law recites it aloud, and my Mom reads it silently, but read they both do. As for us- we do have a copy of the full Adhyathma Ramayanam that gets taken out and dusted every now and then, but we haven't yet reached the reading stage. However- the Acha's been reading C Rajagopalachari's Ramayan to Sonny boy. As of tonight, we've reached the part where Dasaratha is wailing his heart out to Kaikeyi over her heartlessness in wanting him to send his beloved son Rama away to exile for 14 years. Sonny boy as of now is captivated. While he knows the many stories and myths in bits and pieces, its the first time he's hearing the entire story together like this.

And since we were following ( or trying to ) an age-old tradition with Sonny boy, it got me thinking back to how the practice of Ramayana recitals started.

Karkidakam is the last month of the Malayalam calendar. And this used to be a period of torrential rains, when farming was an impossibility, and there would be a steep decline in crop production. The scarcity of crops led to the term karkidakapanjam (panjam meaning scarcity). This also being a period when people were prone to water borne diseases, traditionally people would sustain themselves on karkidaka kanji (gruel)- a concoction of rice and various herbs, ( my guess is that there would also be no vegetables, owing to the heavy rains, hence the kanji!) And that is how people started praying to God, and reciting his name, hoping for an alleviation in the monsoon, and for better health and better crops, and better days.

Since farmers wouldn't have much of farming to do during this period because of the  rains, this was also the month where they took rest and gave their bodies and health some good attention. Hence the custom of karkidaka raksha.(protection)  in ayurveda.

The association karkidakam has for me however, is of one of the tastiest meals I've ever had. This is because karkidakam is also the month where we remember our ancestors and offer prayers to them. While the rites and prayers are offered in the temple, more tangible things are done at home for the souls of the dead. We prepare the best loved items of the dear departed, and offer them a feast on the day of karkidaka vavu. ( new moon day) . A full 7 course (and more) sadya. With pickle and chips, and rice and curries and fish and mutton  and papad and payasam. . . . Mouthwatering, it is, always. Families get together on this day if they can to jointly prepare a feast for their loved ones. This time, when I remember my family that's passed on to the 'other side', I shall remember to click pictures and post.

The other, more recent association karkidakam has for me is of big lovely discount SALES everywhere. For karkidakam also  corresponds to the Tamil aadi, in which month it is believed to be inauspicious to start/buy anything new. Bangalore having its fair share of Mallus and Tams, every brand worth its name, comes up with a discount to entice the customer to buy. This continues to be most delightful, as all my Onam purchases (Onam, the harvest season of plenty comes immediately after karkidakam- all those prayers do indeed bear fruit) are made out of these SALES. I can afford to buy lovely stuff for my assorted relatives, and still not end a pauper. As long as the sale goes on, karkidaka panjam at least is a thing of the past.

Malayalam and me

I can read, write and converse most admirably in Malayalam, but, I have never ENJOYED reading books in my native tongue, as much as I do reading in English. Maybe because as a kid, there WERE more English books and novels that I was exposed to. Even now, I don't think that there are as many books for kids in Malayalam as there are in English. Which is sad, because I realise now that there are some beautiful writings in Malayalam as well. And I can hear the stories they tell so much better than a non-Malayali, because I know firsthand the setting, the mileu, the culture. . .

The earliest light reading that I did in Malayalam was of my Language non-detaileds. And I think a larger amount of my disinterest in the language was because of how my earlier teachers used to handle the subject. Their objective was to make us write the relevant answers in our exams. While this was admirable, and in which goal, I think they succeeded to a great extent, as far as a feel for the language was concerned, an appreciation of the felicity with which the writer expressed his views, feelings.. . they did nothing to develop a sense in children of that.This is true of my earlier English and Hindi  teachers as well, but thankfully, my Dad inculcated in me a love for the English language, that continues to this day.
In college, one of my cousins had to study a collection of Malayalam short stories in translation. Malayalam Short Stories- An Anthology , had gems by stalwarts of Malayalam Literature- Thakazhi, Uroob,Basheer and so on . I loved some of the stories in this- Rachiamma, Steadily Flows the Yamuna, A Blind Man's Contentment. . . but this was because they were a translation. I doubt if I'd have read them if those very stories had been available in Malayalam.

The next best exposure I had to Malayalam writing was the mallu weekly magazines. Any mallu who reads this would laugh, and with justification, for some of them were quite trashy. But to the best of my memory, the first Malayalam writing that I savoured was a weekly serial in Malayala Manorama- Upasana by Mallika Younis. Once this had been pronounced a hit by my Mom, grandmom and aunts ( we lived in a joint family then), I collected all the earlier magazines and thus read quite a bit of the entire story in one go.  Towards the later days into the story, there would be a rush for the paper boy, by all of us, to land hands on the magazine first and read what had happened to Lathika. . .  It was a lovely story on relationships, and even had a movie - Ente Upasana- made on it. Though the movie was a runaway hit, with popular actors Suhasini and Mammootty, I remember feeling a bit disappointed with how it did not do justice to the feelings of the protagonist, that were brought out so well in the serial. But then, that is the power of words, A picture may well be worth a thousand words, but equally, there are some writings that cannot be picturised.
However, that was about the only one that I savoured. Other writings did not hook me, and the reading was desultory,just  because the magazine happened to be handy.

Then I went on to University, to do my MA in English Literature. And paradoxically, it was there, while learning more about English language and literature, that I had my next exposure to the Malayalam language, in all its beauty. I had a Senior, and her room mate, a Junior in Chemistry, both of whom were excellent in their respective subjects, but shared a passion for Malayalam literature, and who took me along with them in their love of the language. But sadly, this did not last long. The Senior left, and the Junior had to concentrate on her Chemistry ( she also got another Zoology or Botany room mate who certainly did not appreciate an English senior coming and plonking herself in the room) . And  I went back to my English books, which was definitely easier reading for me. But the University was where I learnt to enjoy Malayalam poetry.Because till University, honestly, I did not appreciate much of English poetry either.

I left (had to) my MA incomplete when I got through the MBA entrance exam. After that, I met and fell in love with, and married my husband who enjoyed English and Malayalam writings with equal felicity.  I can write Malayalam better than him and have scored better marks than him too, but his teachers have given him a better education!  And it has been one of the things on my wishlist ever since- to read some Malayalam authors in their language, in my language.

Later, when Sonny boy came along, and started along the path of learning, the Acha, more than me, wanted to get him to learn the Malayalam letters. Maybe because he'd seen how I did not enjoy the language, inspite of having learnt it formally till the eighth standard.. . .But Sonny boy does not even have the advantage of being in Kerala, for him to learn his mother tongue. Its difficult enough for us to teach him Hindi (!!)  looks like he'll be following the same route as his mother. But I'd like him to be able to read and write Malayalam Its no mean thing to be able to converse and read and write in your mother tongue, no matter how accomplished you may be in other languages. And both the Acha and me are far from being one of those people who look down any language other than English.

In the meantime, Mayyazhi Puzhayude Theeram still awaits. . . . for the day an old lady will come strolling along.  . for her Randam Oozham at Malayalam Literature.

Unwell

Delhi could make Chennai look down shamefacedly last week, when it came to the humidity levels. It was HOT and sweaty. I'd thought that the worst of the heat was over. Not quite so!
A colleague and I got out of the airport terminal onto the concourse on Mon, and the heat made me think I was standing in front of an a/c vent. I moved, but the vent moved with me... which was when I realised , there was no a/c vent. It was humid hot Delhi air.

Had a recce and various meetings across the city, and kept moving the whole week from the humidity into air conditioned cab and office interiors and it took its toll. Attended an office party to celebrate a gold medal we'd won,  and took time out to meet a good friend. By Fri when I had to leave, I had the beginnings of a sore throat.

In Bangalore, we were welcomed back by pelting showers, and we got drenched before getting into the cab headed home. To keep the windshield from misting over, the a/c had to be switched on. (Otherwise normally, I do not insist that the a/c be switched on, on the drive back home, except in those stretches near Manyata TechPark and KR Puram bridge, to escape from the noxious fumes of other vehicles).  That was it. The soreness took a stronger grip on my throat.

And on Sat when I woke up, I had a throat that was majestically sore. By afternoon, I started feeling cold, and in the evening, I shivered like with the ague, for more than half an hour.

This is the second time that I had a fit of the shivers. I remember the first time was in my previous office. It was my first job, after having taken a 3 year break for Sonny boy, and since I'd just joined, I didn't want to take leave. I sat in the boss' cabin, in the a/c ( hadn't told anyone that I had fever) and started to shiver. LOL. It would have been funny if it hadn't been a bit scary. I just couldn't stop the tremors. I went back home.  The boss thought I trying to be dramatic or whatever, I got no sympathy from him. Of all the bosses I've had, I count him as THE Hari Sadu. No one else comes close. It gives me great pleasure to write that I have moved on and ahead of that guy. Ha!

So now, am at home on a Monday. Ages since I've been on leave, and that too, on a Monday. The fever's left, the sore throat is better, I just have a head that seems to be carrying all the continents on it. And all the oceans too. Its that heavy. If only that would clear, I'm good.

Traffic

In my last post, I mentioned that this week, I was going to try and catch up with movies. Well, I certainly meant it. My flight was at 10.30 am, which meant that I did not have to wake up at the normally unearthly hours I have to wake up on, on the days I'm traveling to the airport. And so, I did not go off to sleep either. It also helped that we were flying by the Boeing 787 Dreamliner. It really is a dream compared to the other domestic flights in India.

So I got to fiddling with the screen in front of me, and finally settled on Traffic. There is this thing about Malayalam movies- when they are good, they are excellent, and when they are bad, they can be pathetic! This one, thankfully, belongs to the former category.

The movie is about how entirely unconnected families and people are connected by a bizarre set of coincidences one fine day- 16th September- at a traffic signal. And how that tenuous connection binds a spell on an audience for 2 hours.

Rehaan (Vineet Sreenivasan) is a young man who's just finished college, whose ambition is to become a journalist and make a difference to at least one life through his reporting, and who's just landed his first job in a reputed TV channel. His first assignment is to interview the Malayalam superstar- Siddharth Shankar.
Rajiv (Asif Ali) is his best friend. And Aditi (Sandhya) is his lover, who has just gotten her divorce through.
He has a doting mother (Fathima Babu), and his father (Saikumar) is an extremely successful surgeon, who loves his son, but  is very clear that he's not going to use his connections to get him a job. But once he's on his way to his first assignment, he quietly makes a few calls, to make sure that the interview is watched by those who matter.

Sudevan (Sreenivasan)  is a traffic constable, who got caught in his first ever attempt, towards the latter half of his career, at taking a bribe ( in order to fund his daughter's education), and was suspended for the same. A friend takes him to a politically connected official to get his suspension withdrawn- by paying him a bribe! After two months of staying at home, he's finally off to work, and offers his daughter a lift to school, but she turns down the offer. A hurt Sudevan comments to his understanding wife that she must be ashamed of a father who got caught taking bribes.

Abel (Kunjako Boban), a doctor, has taken the day off to celebrate his first wedding anniversary with his wife (Ramya Nambeesan). On his way home, he gives a lift to 2 friends, one of whom is an inveterate womaniser, who delights in extolling his exploits with his latest ladylove.
Maria, (Roma)  Abel's sister is a hotshot senior executive at a radio channel.

Sidharth Shankar (Rehman)  is a superstar, for whom wife, daughter, family-everything else pales into insignificance beside his all important self.  His uncomplaining, long suffering wife (Lena) is the one who nurtures their bright young teenaged  daughter through his absences at home. The daughter is unwell, but the self centered star father goes about his busy schedule  inspite of his daughter being in hospital.

On 16th September, all of them are on their way to their respective assignments.. . .
 Rehaan is getting dropped by Rajiv to the television studio.
Sreenivas is on his way to office to join back after the suspension.
Abel is on his way to join his wife for the anniversary celebrations.
Siddharth gets ready for the release of his new film. . .
 when . . . .
A  lady driver nervously speeding away from dangerous eve teasers on bikes jumps a red signal. Her car sends Rajiv's bike flying and along with it, the riders.  Rehaan, the pillion rider sans helmet, is seriously injured, and goes into coma.

This accident brings another set of people together.

Siddharth's daughter in a hospital in Palakkad, can only live if she has a heart transplant. Rehaan is a matching donor, but the distraught father refuses to take him off the ventilator. However,  Aditi and Rajiv convince the parents to donate.
Then arises the next complication. There are no flights, and the only way to get the heart  ( from Cochin to a Palakkad hospital)  is by road.  All traffic on the route would need to be called to a halt while the vehicle sped at a crazy  pace through crowded towns and villages. 150 km , in under 2 hours, in rush hour traffic.

The city Commissioner Ajmal Nazar ( Anoop Menon) refuses to endanger the lives of millions of citizens for the sake of one life. The risks involved are too great, complications that could arise numerous, chances of success minimal. However an old and venerable Dr.Simon D'Souza ( Joseprakash)  convinces him to do so.
Sudevan offers to drive the vehicle carrying the heart in an effort to wash away the stain of dishonour that clung to him post the bribing incident. Rehaan's best friend and Abel, a doctor, accompany Sudevan.
The minutely monitored, frantic race against time starts.
All goes fine, and the trio make good time, better than expected. And then, the vehicle just-disappears. It is totally untraceable.

What happens next, why the trio go off the radar, how they manage to get back on track, but then lose their way, how the Commissioner cancels the mission in despair, and how the mission gets revived again... whether Rehaan's life does indeed make a difference . . . is the riveting second half of the movie.

The movie has been excellently scripted and edited.  All characters are equally important, and bring their own nuances to the table.Their performances linger on in memory-
the sensitive, idealistic young journalist...
the long-suffering housewife who finally flares up when she needs to secure the life of her daughter... (the role got Lena Best Supporting Actress award )
the anguish of  mature parents who stand to lose their son, at a time when everything is full of promise...
the heartbreakingly difficult decision to finally donate their son's heart

Anoop Menon needs special mention as the cop who needs to make tough decisions under pressure.

Sreenivas excels in his aam aadmi roles, and this movie is no different.  I especially loved that scene in the beginning, when after getting the suspension withdrawn, the politico guy berates him for taking a bribe. Sreenivasan mutely listens, and then is prodded by his 'experienced' friend to give the guy some money. He diffidently hands over the packet, for he's just been warned NOT to give a bribe. And the guy coolly smiles acknowledgement of the amount. Is such a satire of our times. :-)
The special appearance by veteran JosePrakash is indeed special, for the succint way in which he convinces the Commissioner into carrying out this mission.

Rajesh R Pillai , the director has indeed done a commendable job, as also have Bobby-Sanjay- the script writers. The pace of the movie keeps you glued to your seat. It is a total entertainer- with bits or romance, adventure, comedy, tragedy, villainy.. Racy to the last minute, the unexpected twists, if a little far-fetched, still add to the movie. Your heart is in your mouth as you wonder what will happen next, if Rehaan's heart will make it through the Traffic.

The movie won a host of awards- best film, best director, best script, best screenplay, second best actor, trendsetter award(!). It is apparently based on an actual incident in Chennai, and has been remade in Tamil as Chennaiyil Oru Naal. It is now going to be remade in Hindi as well. Quite a tribute to the success of the movie, wouldn't you say?

So slip on the seatbelts, and get ready for the ride, people, Traffic is indeed a movie to be watched!

Movie time... yes? no?

Once upon a time, a girl had all the time in the world, but was yet to have a laptop of her own. Ergo, all the movies she saw were from the theatres- at her workplace or her hometown. Inspite of having to book tickets in advance, dress up and get out, she saw a fair number. Which led to empty wallets at the month end.

Some years down the line, the girl got married, had a kid, moved up in the rat race. In her laptop now, she has some 10 movies at least- Hindi, English, Tamil, Telugu- all hit movies, that her friend at office has downloaded for her.

The bank balance still get depleted by the month end. But not because of the movies. The movies- they have been lying un-viewed for the last 6 months.

This week, hopefully, when the girl will be traveling for 4 days in the week. . . .
- she will not have to cook after getting back home from work,
-  she will have her own free time post dinner (not have to read a book to her son, or hug him close while he     makes his way to Dreamland),
- her dog will not paw her insistently to get up and walk her, talk to her
- her husband will also not be there ;-)

 . . . . she will hopefully get to see at least 2. She has
Rock On
Cocktail
O My God
GAW I and II
Ghanchakkar
Dabangg

Neram
Neethane En Ponvasantham
Ethir Neechal

Arundhati ( Telugu- with subtitles)
Ala Modalaindi

Any suggestions as to which I should start with?