In Loving Memory

The auto pulled up in front of a small provision shop. The quiet of the dawn was broken by the rumbling of the engine as it halted. The light was on in the shop, casting a bright glow in the otherwise dimly lit street. Colorful bags of Lays Chips were hanging, lazily waving in the morning breeze.

Next to the shop, small but lively houses were lined up in two rows, forming almost a tunnel like appearance. Calling the space between the houses a road, would be too kind. The narrow strip hardly gave space for two people to walk side by side, yet large motorbikes stood parked precariously against the walls connecting the houses.

Every house had one step under which a small groove was carved in to let excess water flow and drain. The steps themselves were decorated with intricate patterns painstakingly drawn in the morning light.

Climbing out of the auto, the driver helped my father with the suitcases. Jammed in the middle of my carryon and my mother, I climbed out, eager to stretch my legs after the bumpy ride. Standing on the pathway away from the road, I helped unload our bags and began the journey of rolling them into the narrow alley.

Carefully maneuvering the suitcase I stopped in front of the third house on the left. My mom was behind me and my dad ahead of me. Pressing the door bell, we stood outside the gated door.

The door opened and a face peered through the iron gates. Clad in a pink and green saree, hair combed to perfection, face glistening with talcum powder, she smiled excitedly at seeking her family.

“Segu, vaa”

Her excitement evident, she ushered us inside her home. The lights in the hall were off, but the one tubelight in the kitchen was blazing brightly. The fans were out, and the lamp in in the adorned swami room was ablaze.

“Kanni raasi neyargale, inniki…”

I inwardly groaned at seeing the familiar astrologer on TV. The next few days, I could be assured that this astrologer would be a part of my wake up call.

Helping Appa, we pushed the suitcases into the room on the far left. A small room used mainly for storage, I could see the neat pile of pillows, a small mirror, a container of talcum powder, pottu packets, and 2 combs on a shelf. The familiarity was overwhelming.

In the hall, the lights and the fans both on now, and Appa sat on the sofa. Amma came and nudged him as Atthai stepped out of the kitchen with the same excited smile on her face. We stood and, as customary, we did our namaskarams for my grandparent’s photos which adorned the entrance, majestically looking down on us with such benevolence.

When we did our namaskaram for Atthai, she stood next to the fragrant swami room, in front of the TV. 

This was where she always stood. 

The process was so automatic for me. First, face the entrance, do namaskaram for Paati and Thatha, next turn around and face the TV and do namaskaram for Atthai. Upon reflection, I don’t know if I ever knew any different at that time. The movements may have been mechanical, but I know that the significance was not lost on me, even at that age.

“Virchiga raasi neyargale…”

Now back on the sofa, Appa signaled to me to get him some water. Atthai, not missing this exchange of gestures, quickly asked, “Kaapi kudikriya?”

Before even Appa could say, “Vendam-ka”, she got up and bustled to the kitchen. This was what she did best, this was what gave her happiness.

Knowing that resistance was futile, Appa drank the coffee, and then told her to sit down. Again, I got up to put the coffee tumbler in the sink. Child labor never ceases when with your parents.

“Iru, rava laddo, kai murrukku laam panirken, konjam eduthikriya?”

I looked at the clock, the time was 7:30.

7:30 AM.

7:30 in the morning!

Hardly an appropriate time to be eating rava laddos and murruku.

If this isn't a testament to the fact that you are always spoiled when you are with your family, then what is? Kind of makes up for the child labor factor, doesn’t it?

This time, Appa managed to get the words out, “Vendam ka, ippo thaan coffee kudichen.”

Amma chimed in “Okkaarungo ka”

Again, Appa gestured for me to get some water. This time it was accompanied by the standard “Oru rendu bottle-a roppi fridge la vechudu”

“Tring Tring” the land line rang out. Next to the red colored phone was a stack of papers, a pen holder, Atthai’s glass case. The shelf below it held a few magazines, newspapers, and old copies of Twinkle/Jughead/Betty & Veronica comics.

These comics were courtesy of my cousins from their prior trips to Trichy. They would give me company for those hot afternoons when there was nothing much to do.

“Makara raasi neyargale…"

“Tring Tring” again, the landline called us. Appa answered the phone and I heard the usual

“Helloooo…mama”

It was Anand Anna, calling to see if we reached safely. I knew in a few hours, he would be on his way here.

By this time, Atthai had stood up and was standing next to the phone waiting to see who had called. Amma was rummaging through our hand luggage to find clothes and toiletries. I was still filling the water bottles.

Amma glanced at me, as I closed the fridge door, and the look conveyed that I was to quickly take a shower and get ready. Emphasis on the quickly.

Curiosity abated, Atthai came up to Amma and asked, “Dosai pannatuma?”

Amma immediately said, “Ippo onnum vendam Akka, poi kulichitu varatum”

“Iru venneer vekkaren”

Atthai shuffled back into the kitchen. Taking advantage of this momentary gap, I quickly ran to Amma and told her to take a shower first instead. My extremely logical reasoning was that this would ensure that by the time I got in, there would not be any unwanted surprises, such as cockroaches, lizards and the occasional frog.

Amma resolutely refused under the pretext that she would need to wash my clothes, unless I want to do it myself? Not wanting to give up but also not willing to add more work to my plate, I turned to the one superpower we have as kids, whining.
 
As our voices raised, Appa shot a glare at us. Superpower or not, somethings are not to be tested. I shut up and went to take my shower, grumbling about the unfairness of childhood.

Atthai's hamam soap was in the dimly lit bathroom, and placing my things next to it, I heard her say,

"Veneer kothikarthu, jaakarthai"

I grumbled in response. Quietly she whispered, "Seekrama kulicha, Jevvarisi vadaam pandren"

All of a sudden, taking a bath didn't seem like too much trouble!

Thus began our vacation in the sunny city of Trichy, in the quaint Andar street, under the loving care of my Atthai.

Many years have passed and with it some people have, as well. However, if I close my eyes now, I can still hear the bustle of the city waking up, my Atthai fretting over my parents and the sound of hot water being poured into the bucket just as the TV blares, “Meena raasi neyargale…”

The Good Morning Effect

As we battle the chilly weather, I wanted to shine some light on an observation.

My commute to work is incredibly tedious and long. It's not something that I fancy on a day where the temperature is cold enough to freeze boiling water. That being said, I realized while at home, staying warm, how much I missed the Good Mornings that I would hear not only at work, but also on the train.

Every morning, rain or shine, when I walk to my desk, I am always greeted with a good morning from my peers. In turn, it is an automatic response for me to smile when returning the greeting. I end up smiling until I reach my desk and start working, which enables me to start my day in a good mood. On the train, the conductor, as he does his rounds for tickets says thank you to every single person as well as a good morning at every car. This not only wakes us all up, but also makes us subconsciously acknowledge that the morning is going to be "good".

I've listened to many discussions from Infinitheism leader, Rangarajan, where his followers always start by saying "Happy Morning". This got me thinking, what is it about these words that happen to put us in a good mood? Can we substitute these words with a "Whats up?" or another form of acknowledgement and still feel the same warmth?

Studies show that man craves attention, however, to some extent, we also crave validation. At a very psychological level, we need a certainty about our day. Now, practically, speaking, there is no way to achieve a 100% certainty as we never know what could happen, however, an assurance that it's going to be "okay" is what we fundamentally want. By smiling, we are using a nonverbal method of communication to convey that we are glad to see a person, as well as releasing a rush of endorphins. This achieves the need of man to be wanted, or liked as a part of the community. When you combine all these things, in the form of a 30 second greeting, it becomes magical. When we return this greeting, we are not only exchanging these positive actions but also basking in it.

To me, it's incredible to see how much just a single greeting from a conductor, or a colleague can brighten my day. Many times I have gone into work with a disturbed mentality, not really ready to tackle the day, but when I hear that "Hey! Good Morning", I automatically smile.

So the next time you are at home, or at work, or just bump into someone, see if you can remember to greet them. You might have a million tasks to complete, but at that moment just take 30 seconds to brighten a person's day. You never know how much of an impact that could have on them...and even more so, on you!

To all the lovely peers, conductors, and bus drivers who have warmed my day during this cold week....Thank you! 

Thiruvadurai Special

Nearly every household in India will be eating kali and kootu today for lunch. It took me a lot of digging around to find what exactly the significance of Kali and Kootu is. When found the sweet anecdote, I couldn't resist sharing it!! So heres a story to go with your lunch today ;)

Cedanar of Naukoor, a disciple of Paddinattu Adigal, used to eat only after feeding  Saiva devotees.
Due to a constant bad weather, a bit like what we have now (yay snow :( ), he could not get together all the essentials for a proper meal. Thus, he had no option but to mix water with flour and prepare a mashed paste.

Lord Siva understood his predicament. He wanted the people to know how sincere Cedanar's devotion was, thus, he disguised himself as a Siva devotee,visited Cendanar’s hut and enjoyed what was given to him as food.

The following morning, temple attendants saw the premises scattered with the mashed paste. Lord Shiva had eaten the prasadam and it had created a mess within the temple. Inquiries led to an understanding of Cendanar’s piety and he was thereafter bestowed with all due respect.

This incident took place in a Margazhi (January) Thiruvathirai. This is why Thiruvathirai Kali forms an important prasadam on this holy day.

As for the kootu, I couldn't find anything of historical significance. However, my mother's explanation was that there needs to be a balance. Too much sweet would cause a stomach ache thus balancing it with vegetables and protien in a savory dish would help the meal digest better.

Either way, its surely a delicious celebration! :P Happy Eating!!! 

The Horlicks Expectation

"Nerupuda!" screamed the theater speakers. I looked around and saw this old mama snoring away. Next to him was an open murukku packet. He probably snuck it into the theater. Unfortunately, there were no more murukkus in it. It was a pitiful sight.

Every where I turn, friendships, relationships and other ships are being questioned based on one's opinion of Kabali.

I watched Kabali after reading all the reviews (sila vishayamlaam anubavichaathaan theriyum). Because I read the reviews, my expectation of the movie was severely lowered. I found myself enjoying the movie more than my family did. Many of the positive reviews that I read, claimed that people need to watch this movie as a director's film and not as a Rajni film. I like to think I tried to embody that.

When we walked out of the theater, quite confused (You too, Tiger?!), my parents were karuchukottifying the movie (I'm sorry, there really isn't an English word that can truly capture the emotion behind 'karuchukottifying').

Amma, who went in with a lot of expectations, was so disappointed, even I felt ashamed. So, to pacify them and to point out how vetti I am, I mentioned the reviews I read and how one should view this as a directors movie.

When I said that, Appa stopped and just looked at me. He asked a very interesting question, "When we go to the store and buy horlicks, we expect it to taste like horlicks, not bournvita!!"

Now, without getting into whether horlicks or bournvita is better (bournvita, obviously), this got me thinking. Many people, like my father, view Rajnikanth as a brand. The actor has his own structure and style. When regular, non-die-hard-fan goes to see a Rajni movie, they expect that sort of image.

Kabali barely had that.

One can definitely justify it and say that Kabali was an initiative to try and go deeper than Rajni the brand and bring out Rajni the actor. All that said and done, in the end, we see him as "Superstar" and the expectation of that image is never going to go away. It's too late to change that.

To put it in another way, in this movie we can replace Rajnikanth with Ajith, Vijay, Kamal, Jayam Ravi, etc. However, can you imagine Baasha without Rajni? How about Annamalai? Arunachalam?

No way!

That is solely because those movies were made for him; for his style and his attitude. He was the perfect fit for that story. However a director's movie, as general as Kabali, can be made to fit anyone.

One might say, that's why the pro-Kabali reviews claim to not view this as a Rajni movie.

Well, that might have been the case, however, this was not promoted as a Pa Ranjith movie, but as a Rajnikanth movie. It was branded with the superstar logo and the hype was all around Rajnikanth (as it should be!). So, like my dad said, you go in expecting a Rajnikanth movie and come out with a Ranjith movie. Obviously that won't sit well with the audience. It's like Kuselan all over again!

Kabali had a very nice concept, however it wasn't a story worth Rajnikanth. Pa Ranjith is a brilliant director, without a doubt, however, Kabali would have probably been a lot better if the main character was played by someone else. Expectations would have been a lot different and the chances for success would have been greater.

I loved the actresses and their roles in the movie. They were all so powerful and so well done. However, I wish they had casted a 'Raghuvaran-esque' villain rather than an international villain. I understand the whole "social" message that was trying to be made, but again, people viewing this as a Rajni film will look for that hero-villain chemistry.

Santhosh Narayanan killed the music. I think, that was the only part of the movie I really enjoyed. The BGM kept the momentum of what was ultimately a slow story and enhanced the grace and style with which Rajni was shown on the big screen. The sound effects were great. The sharp noises when Rajni glanced over and all the gunshot sounds were done very well. Moreover, it was fun to see the sleeping mama startle awake at each action sequence. Unfortunately, that was more entertaining than the movie itself.

Whether you want to compare it to horlicks or bournvita, the fact of the matter is that Kabali is not a Rajni film. It is a disappointment to those expecting the "Superstar" image and hype.

Kochadaiyaan, Lingaa and now this....I am apprehensive to see what's next (Endiran 2?! Kadavule!) 

The Jamun Fruit

I recently read a beautiful novel by Chitra Banerjee Divakuruni, titled "The Palace of Illusions". It is a retelling of the Mahabaratham from the point of view of Draupadi. Beautifully written, one can easily see the young scared girl grow into a strong queen and become the vengeful woman responsible for the Kurukshetra War. Draupadi goes through the motions of falling in love, being unconventionally married to five men, forced to undergo a harsh lifestyle due to the Pandava's misgivings, and be jealous at the other wives these men chose to take; basically, she is portrayed as any other normal woman with insecurities and the strength to face them. It is a wonderfully written book and I would highly recommend it to anyone asking.

One subplot that really caught my eye was the love Draupadi had for Karna. The book states that when her Swayamvaram was planned, an artist showed Draupadi a portrait of Dhuryodhana, and she found herself gazing at Karna, who was also in the painting.

This "crush" grows into a more profound liking that is thwarted only because both Krishna and Draupadi's brother intervene when Karna tries to participate in the Swayamvaram challenge. To avoid a fight, Draupadi steps down and asks Karna if he knows of his lineage, knowing well that he does not. A humiliated Karna swears vengeance on her. It is because of this, according to the book, that Karna issues the order to remove Draupadi's clothes. 

During the war, when Karna visits the dying Bheeshma, it is shown that he, too, has strong feeling for Draupadi. It is just that both their egos are too big to accept and apologize to one another. Thus, from the beginning, the mingling of love versus duty shape the entire book into a beautiful story.

In all the traditional versions of the Mahabaratham that I have thus far encountered, there is no mention of this forbidden love story. However, I later found that this was a result of a Jain folklore that was worked into their version of the epic. 

The story goes as follows....

Apparently, while in exile, the Pandavas and Draupadi stumbled upon a little grove. There, a single Jamun tree stood. There was a very ripe, low hanging fruit and Draupadi plucked it without a second thought. As soon as she held it in her hands, the tree spoke, saying that the fruit she plucked was hanging there for 12 years and it was being preserved for the Rishi who had been meditating. He was going to end his tapas later that day and his first meal in those 12 years was to be that fruit. However, now that Draupadi had plucked it, the Rishi will go hungry and she would have to face the consequences. 

Hearing this, a flustered Draupadi calls out to her husbands to help fix the fruit back. They all try, but in vain.

The tree then says, "Draupadi, if you had the power of chastity then you, yourself, could put the fruit back"

Surprised, Draupadi states she is completely faithful to her five husbands, even more so, only the one she is supposed to be with for that year. The tree refuses and says that she is not being truthful. Digging deeper, Draupadi states she loves Krishna, but only as a brother and nothing more. When she tries re-attaching the fruit, it doesn't work. A frustrated Draupadi asks the tree for help and the tree responds by stating that there must be someone else. 

That is when Draupadi realizes and confesses her hidden feelings for Karna, stating that "If I had married him, I would not have been gambled away, publicly humiliated and called a whore". Thus now, with a clear conscience, Draupadi is able to attach the fruit back to the tree.

This is why it is said that Jamun fruits color your tongue purple. One must be absolutely truthful and clear of sin to avoid the discoloration. The moral of this fascinating tidbit is that when one accepts the truth, even if its a sin, they are cleared of any demerit that their actions might have caused (I guess I better start confessing that I ate those cookies... :) )

It's these kind of stories that makes me wonder how many facets to these epics there are. Reading "The Palace of Illusions", I was able to see the Mahabaratham from a completely different angle. Although tedious, I think it would be amazing if there was a way to see it from the view of the Kauravas, other Queens, Maids etc. We focus so much on the heroics of the Pandavas that sometimes we forget that there are multiple sides to a story and maybe, just maybe...

...not everything is as it seems!

Coffee

The frigid morning air caressed her, seeping through the woolen blanket. The dark clouds enveloped her house, shrouding it in a dewy shawl. Shuddering awake, she blinked the drowsiness away and stood. Grumbling slightly at the cold and even more at how late she was going to be for work, she hurriedly dressed and stepped out into the windy city...just as the first rain drops began to fall.

As she commenced the tedious walk to her office, the aphotic skies menacingly followed, escorted by boisterous winds. The relentless rain finally forced her to accept that she would have to step indoors for a while. Spotting a little yellow cafe, she decided to go in and wait out the storm. Being late for work, already, what more would a few extra minutes do?!

The cafe was a quaint little place; a few cozy sofas next to a bookshelf haphazardly adorned with old classics in various levels of wear and tear. The floor was an array of whimsically patterned rugs on which mismatched tables and chairs were delicately placed. Although the bizarre layout was laughable, the rhythmic thumping of the rain on the crooked windows made the whole cafe seem warm and inviting. The only thing that looked out of place was what seemed to be a new stainless steel counter to the left of the door. On it's shiny surface stood a glass jar, next to which, a sign read "PAY HERE". A couple dismal copper coins lay at the bottom.

Brushing off some of the water from her now damp clothes, she frowned as she took in the peculiarity of the place. Curious to see what she could find, she walked up to the bookshelf. A particular gilded title caught her attention and she picked it up. Book in hand, she made herself comfortable on an old, worn, green couch. Flipping to the first page, she studied the timeless words and tried to make sense of what she was holding.

"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife", she read. Puzzled, but too distracted with mentally preparing for the meetings she had, to care, she mindlessly thumbed through the aged pages, looking up at the window every once in a while to see if the storm had stopped.

Yawning, she was about to get up and find something else to do when she spotted him. He was right behind the jar on the counter and she was very surprised that she hadn't noticed him before.

She could tell he was rich, perhaps Colombian or Brazilian, and that roused her excitement. Gazing shamelessly with an unbridled desire, she observed that he was tall, dark and definitely strong. He was hot, perhaps a bit too hot for her, but she knew the more time she spent with him, the more compatible they would be. The sweet but musky scent that lingered around him lured her and she knew, with certainty, that she could not leave without him.

As the rain slowly halted, the first rays of the hidden sun seeped through the window. The birds began their ritualistic morning song and she tore her gaze from him to look outside. The fresh drops on the flowers gave her a sense of peace. She knew what she had to do.

With a burst of confidence, she approached him, took him by the sleeve and walked out of the shop, stopping only briefly to drop a few crisp bills in the jar.

As she turned the corner, her phone beeped with a message that her morning meetings had been cancelled. Marveling at how much better her day was turning out to be, she held him tightly and walked into the sunlight.


Back at the Cafe...

On the couch by the window, lay a book long forgotten, marked with a fold on a yellowing page that read, "In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you..."

Summer Travels -- Ironwood Pt 2

**Check out the first part here!!**

As most of you know, I was not at all enthusiastic about this trip. As we left to go for the trail, I was excited at the possibility of walking and gaining points on my new Fit Bit (which is great by the way). Gym shoes  soaked up the mud as we walked down to the trail. The sound of roaring water was enough to keep us moving. We took plenty of pictures on the way there. The stairs were made out of wood and swayed a bit as we went down. However, the descent wasn't that bad and it was actually a bit fun. When we reached the falls, my heart stopped. My God, it was amazing to see. White river rapids and such swirls rushing downwards. I just stood there awestruck at the majesty and beauty that water could show us.

Well, I was awestruck the first time. A little bit more the second time (the rapids were louder). By the 5th time, however, I was done. How much nature can a girl take?! I wanted to see something cool, like a bear, or a wolf or somethinggggg other than water.

We soon realized that the only cool place to visit after we hit ALL the trails, was a tiny family owned Chinese place. Ever heard of the term, don't judge a book by its cover? Well, don't judge a restaurant by its decor. They place was hideously decorated but oh my GOD the food. THE FOOD WAS SOOO GOOOOOD!! Probably the best Chinese/Thai food joint I have ever been to.

From there, we went back to the hotel and just chilled. Gossip, UNO, politics, music and everything else you can imagine when 10 very loud and fun loving people get together, accompanied our night. After another wonderful rest on the very soft bed in Comfort Inn (I should get discounts from them now for all the marketing that I'm doing for them, here), we headed home.

Honestly, although, I never was enthusiastic about this trip, I look back on the pictures and I can't help but marvel at the natural beauty of Ironwood. Its been over two years now since we went, and to this day, some of the best photos I have are from that place. The memories might be a bit fuzzy but I can still hear the white rapids, smell the musty earth, and feel the cool breeze..

So, is there magic in Nature? Visit Ironwood and let me know... :) Oh, and don't forget the Comfort Inn :P #marketingpoints

I lived to see Leonardo win an Oscar

Perhaps one of the most awaited days (except probably the Presidential Election, but honestly Leo > President). February 28th, was monumental. Leonardo DiCaprio, after a long excruciating 22 years of waiting, won an Oscar.

Now, my mom has an uncanny skill of making everything into a lecture. However, when I told her about Leonardo's grand win, what she said hit home.

 "See! he didn't give up".

Can you imagine fighting your way through gossip, rejections, failure, no opportunity, no money and working your way up only to have to wait 22 long years to get some recognition? I'm sure the academy had their reasons for making Leo wait so long, but still! It seems so unfair that Jared Leto could get an oscar and Leo couldn't!

Why didn't Leo boycott? He was nominated so many times and never won, he could have just said "Screw it, I'm not going to act anymore!" and it would have been in his right to do so. Infact, I'm sure many of his fans would have even supported the decision, just to put some heat on the Academy.

However, he didn't. He kept working towards his art, crafting it and perfecting it. Now I ask the question, why can't the Carnatic music industry be the same way?

When Sudha Raghunathan won the prestigious Sangeetha Kalanidhi in 2013, there were so many protests. The great, so and so  never got the award, why did she get it? Where was her superiority in comparison to the great so and so? The worst part is, sometimes it was the great so and so who was offended and not just his/her fans. This has provoked a lot of animosity towards the committees that form the awards. It has created a lot of tension and many people have lost sight of what means the most; the art.

Yes, its frustrating if someone who came yesterday bags the award and you, who has been slaving way at it, doesn't get it. But that's how the field works! Many great artists have gone unrecognized. I have spoken to a few who've told me specifically to stay away from the entertainment field, because they were frustrated and annoyed from the lack of recognition. I do understand that sometimes there is a underlying hand of politics that plays (esp in Indian entertainment) in determining these awards, but the true greatness is not in receiving the award but rather what you do to get it.

Leo was persistent, he was patient, and moreover he respected his art. 22 years is a long time to wait for an award, but look at all the films he has given us throughout those years. To me, they are more valuable than any award. They teach me that being an artist is the highest form of recognition for anyone.

Can you honestly say after looking at Wolf at Wall Street, Titanic and Catch Me if You Can, that someone other than Leo could have done justice to those roles? No! The same way, can you look at Suprabatham, Baja Govindam and Katrinile and tell me that you can picture someone other than M.S. Subbalakshmi? I doubt it.

That, my friends, is the best award that an artist can get. Achieving that is much greater and much more difficult than getting a plaque or a tiny golden statue. Sure, its frustrating, sure it will make you mad. However, your day might not be too far away. The trick?

"Never give up"