Dangling Conversations

I watched them as they walked in.

Everything seemed to be crumbling! Was it really dissipating? All these feelings of love and devotion, were they really temporary? These were the questions that hammered in both of their minds. Both their hearts were weary…both were weak. As they walked into the nearby Starbucks, both were hungry for sanity and needed their doses of caffeine. They did not talk much….they were tired of talking. As he stood wondering what to get her, she wandered off to see the new coffee presses on the display shelves, lost in her own thoughts. He came looking for her….

Do you want regular coffee or a latte?
Regular! Strong! The usual!
Do you want to mix in some milk?
No. Just regular and black! Strong!
Are you sure??
Yes!!
But I was hoping…
….yes?
Never mind!!

He goes back to the counter and starts ordering. He then spots the lemon pound cake…and orders a piece. He turns around to see if she is around. She lifts her head when she hears him order for the cake. Their eyes meet and they smile slightly. She walks toward the counter as the coffee gets ready.

“Could you please warm up the cake a bit?” She asks the check-out girl.
“No! It tastes better when it is cold. Please don’t warm it up.” He tells the check-out girl.

The Check-out girl looks confused.

But I don’t like pound cake cold.
Are you sure?
Yes!
Ok! Whatever you want!

Back at their table, she stirs in raw sugar into their cups of coffee and she opens her bag of cake. He stares out of the window and she offers him his coffee. He refuses, and she asks why he changed his mind…He does not answer. She offers the cake. “I hate warm cake”, he says…..
She puts the bag on the table and stares out of the window as well, stirring her coffee.

Is it really so easy to loose the love over a piece of lemon pound cake? They both wonder. They both tell themselves that it’s not about the cake, really. They both stare at the raindrops on the window pane. They both sigh….and they both remain silent. They are yet on the same page. They just don’t know it.

And as I watch them through the steam and aroma rising from my own cup of strong black coffee. In the background Paul Simon strums his guitar and sings softly of the pain in the stifling air above.

….And we sit and drink our coffee, couched in our indifference……..
In the dangling conversations…and the superficial sighs…are the borders of our lives…
And you read your Emily Dickenson…and I my Robert Frost.
And we note our place with bookmarkers…that measure what we’ve lost.
Like a poem poorly written…we are verses out of rhythm, couplets out of rhyme…
….in syncopated time.
Lost in the dangling conversations…and the superficial sighs…are the borders of our lives…

The minutes tick by slowly, the coffee is drained quickly.
His jaw flexes involuntarily and he tightens his grip on the table’s edge for a long moment and then it slackens.
Suddenly, he gets up, picks up his files & papers and coffee, turns around and leaves.
And she looks at his receding back for a bit.
Then she picks up her papers and goes after him.
And I wonder…did they go in the same direction? Or did they get into separate cars and drive in opposite directions?
I scramble outside to find out…..but they are gone.

The only relic of their lasting togetherness is a used paper cup with lipstick marks and an uneaten piece of lemon pound cake.

A homeless man walks into the store bringing with him the stench of poverty and cold. He looks around fidgeting in his pockets. Silently, he swipes the cake when no one’s watching. The bus-boy walks to the table, clears it and wipes it clean.

And they cease to exist.

All that’s left is a dangling conversation, in the mind of some stranger.

Doctors & Friends - I

What would this world be without doctors??
A lot sicker than it already is!

My first memory of doctors is from a time when I was 4 yrs old. We used to live in the outskirts of a sleepy coffee and orange growing hamlet called Mercara in the beautiful Kodagu district of Karnataka. Everyone that came to visit us had to give a toll fee to enter the hallowed hallways of Chez baby Chay, especially if they wanted to pinch her cheeks while making cute noises and be spared a painful finger bite. The toll fee was Cadbury’s chocolate. And since I was such a cute and cute baby, I was pampered rotten!! The results as you can expect was decay in my cute baby teeth. So at the age of 4, when I was on vacation at Chez Ammachi in another sleepy hamlet called Aruvankadu near Ooty, I got up one night screaming in pain and my poor grandparents got frightened. The very next morning carted me off to the dentist in Coonoor along with my mother, my doctor Chitti (aunty) and her very new husband, who were also on vacation. After some mood enhancing medications (…ahem!!) and a quick extraction, the dentist packed me off. I thought he was the nicest person ever, coz he said I could have ice-cream. The blood soaked piece of cotton in the back of my mouth sure tasted funny, but I was one happy kid that day!!

My grandparents lived right across the hospital in Aruvankadu. My Chitti worked there. And to control my soopeer-hyper mischievous cute self, I was threatened with many oosis and the like (oosi=injection/shot). And then there was that dreadful nursery rhyme that Sister Dorothy forced us to learn in my school in Mercara –
tumach is paiiining, tumach is paiiining, tumach is paiiining jush now….
call the docta, call the docta, call the docta jush now…
injucshan, injucshan, injucshan, jush now…
oppalayshan, oppalayshan, oppalayshan, jush now….
…..you get the drift right!!!!

I lived with grandparents for a bit and our frequent visitors were Dr. Rao and Dr. Reena and all of other doctors who used to drop in every other evening for a cup of tea. They were colleagues of Chitti and enjoyed our unique family with old people, a very young ‘people’ and plenty of love, tea, varki and conversation. Each evening Thatha regaled them with stories from his days in the Navy and Ammachi had stories from her day at the school.

By now, I was petrified of doctors. The moment I heard the familiar voices and greetings, I would run from whichever corner of the house I was playing pranks from, straight to the toilet at the back of the house and lock myself in there. When summoned I would refuse to come out….after much coaxing I would finally come out, say a quick hello and then run off again.

The final straw came when the same Chitti got pregnant and had the first baby I ever took care of. (That baby is now doing her Masters in NYU…how time flies by) By now, I also hated hospitals, the smell of phenyle and dettol, doctors and nurses….anything medicine. When the baby got sick, I refused to go with Ammachi. When I got sick I went….kicking and screaming all the way from the toilet to the doctor’s room. And after settling down, I told Dr. Reena, “If you have to give me medicines, please give me only benadryl or vicodin. Those are the only ones that taste nice. And please don’t forget succee” I was hooked to vitamin c even as a kid!! One time I had to be given a shot, and I was so brave about it in front of the doctor…and when I got home, I screamed for hours at least, claiming it hurt!!

Just within my immediate family there are 4 nursing homes, 10 cousins who are doctors, 1 who is in med school, 3 nieces/nephews in med school, 2 vets, 2 dentists, 1 uncle who is a doctor, 1 aunty who is a doctor, and 2 uncles who were doctors and who longer are alive. Some of my best friends are doctors and they are all over the world now. I am not even mentioning family friends now.

And how can I forget hospitals? Apart from the times when my grandparents were in the hospital (for very long durations), my ma had 2 surgeries, both of which left me in the hospital corridors for a month each time. My dad had some heart trouble…again a month or so hospital time. I was barely 15, and being the only child, I had to do quite a bit. That’s when I completely got over my fear of hospitals & doctors. Since then I have always had fabulous relationships with all my doctors, and there’s quite a few of them, both here and in India. I think I got my best training when my dear husband had to do a rather long hospital stay…it lasted a few months and I knew everyone in that big hospital, right from the security guards to the Director. I developed such good friendships, learnt so much and cherish each of them.

My respect for nurses increased tremendously as I watched them take care of patient after patient. The ayahs and maids thought nothing before changing soiled sheets or helping patients with bed pans and the like. And yet they are the least appreciated. They are not even respected. I did feel badly for the doctors. At the end of each day, I could see some of them – tired, exhausted, almost giving up on their desire to bring healing. The ones that seemed toughest in the ICUs and wards were the ones I saw sobbing in secret. Some were always happy – seemingly calm, and in the privacy of their cabins, they would tell me of their fears. Most people say hospitals are depressing, that the constant sights and smells of ailments and death bother them. I never felt that way. Even when faced with the possibility of the death of my husband of 10 months, I could not feel depressed. How could I?? All around me I saw people who steeled themselves and went about with a smile in the face of obvious agony.

I am so glad I am not a doctor. I am glad & thankful however, that I don’t flinch when I see sick people….even those that are very sick. I surprised myself when at this same hospital I was compelled to make visits to the general wards every day to meet with patients. I would chat them up, hold their hands, pray with them, and read to them…shush crying babies, comfort grieving families. I just had to do it…there was no way I could sit still. Those days were somehow very comforting….to be able to comfort someone in pain, is one of the nicest gifts one can receive. Someday I hope to be able to do it again.

While most people become doctors for all the right reasons, somewhere along the way, priorities change. Visions of bringing healing to the poor and downtrodden (great answers at interviews and such!) are traded for visions of wealth and luxury. I recently spoke with a young doctor, who has made a conscious choice to stay in a remote area in India. While his classmates and buddies trot the globe and make careers for themselves, he chose to follow the dictates of his heart. He will soon be made the director of a small hospital that serves thousands in the area. He has so many challenges to face – political, financial, lack of resources, doctors, equipment and what not. And I am so proud of him…He was mentioning about how so many doctors are not respected even by other doctors, just because they choose to work in rural areas and not go abroad and make it big. Sooner or later, many of them get disillusioned and quit. They get tired of the endless battles against a corrupt system and join a corporate hospital in the city. I don’t blame them…the system is sick…and there is no known medicine or treatment. But at least they tried!! And to my good friend – you know who you are….I am so proud of you!! Never mind the mockers and the jeerers, the world is full of them anyway. What the world does not have enough of are people like you….and we need more.


Another such doctor is my cousin Harsha. He read med school books while still in high school. I could not stand him when I was younger simply because our parents always compared us. He somehow was always everyone’s favorite, because he had his nose in school books and I had mine in everything else. Harsha is now a doctor, his brother is a doctor somewhere in Leeds and his sister is an intern at med school. I am so proud of them all….particularly of Harsha…he chose to remain in my hometown, tend his and my ancestral orchards and simultaneously run a hospital in a nearby village. It’s the only hospital in a radius of some 40 kms. Last year he almost got killed because he caught something while treating a minor epidemic in the area, but he is still going strong. I am so proud of all the doctors who after 5 years of sweat and toil, did not give up on the ones that need their expertise urgently.

For all my fear of doctors and hospitals, as much as I ran way from it all, I find myself drawn to the world of medicine and healing. I don’t read up medical journals and pay much attention to major breakthroughs….heck, I don’t even know the most common medical terms. I don’t watch hospital shows or medicine related reality shows on TV. Yet, these past few days, all I think of is hospitals and doctors….and all I think of is how I can help. What can I do??

I have been struggling with my lack of specificity in life. I am looking for a place to start living my dreams & purpose and I find myself lost in a foggy world between reality and potential . A friend suggested I write about what is dearest to me, what I believe in…and so I wrote this. Perhaps, I will find some answer soon…until then, I shall trek on.

And to all the doctors in my life….and to those in my virtual life as well – Thank You!! I do think you are God’s own workers tending His fields and healing His people. You make this world better and healthier. Thank You!!

I forgot the last lines in the nursery rhyme….
tumach is paiiining, tumach is paiiining, tumach is paiiining jush now….
call the docta, call the docta, call the docta jush now…
injucshan, injucshan, injucshan, jush now…
oppalayshan, oppalayshan, oppalayshan, jush now….

Iyam alight, Iyam alight, Iyam alight, jush now…
Iyam alight, Iyam alight, Iyam alight, jush now
thank you docta, thank you docta, thank you docta jush now….
thank you docta, thank you docta, thank you docta jush now….
byebye docta, byebye docta, byebye docta, jush now
byebye docta, byebye docta, byebye docta, jush now


PS: I know this post took on a serious note towards the end…but it’s straight from my heart.

B'day boy & fighter boy!!!

Yesterday was my honey’s birthday!! We had our celebrations and fun over the weekend. But on the actual day, from 6.30 in the morning he was swamped with call after call. Did you thinking the calls were from family and friends to wish him?? Oh no!! They were work related conference calls. In fact his day was so hectic that family and friends gave up after a while because of busy lines. In between, someone would get thru and wish him quickly, most just left voice mails. Besides, he now has mastered the art of conferencing on one line while making short yet important calls from the other. So the land-line as well as his mobile stayed busy busy busy!!
I made his usual treat of Doodh kheer, which he very graciously reminded me about, “for 27 years before I married you, doodh kheer had been a manadatory and key element in my birthday celebrations. Could we please revive some traditions?” How could I refuse??? I enjoy cooking for him and always lament that he has no appetite for anything sweet. And when he does ask for something sweet, would I refuse?? So I made his favorite meal, with his favorite dishes and the kheer as well. He gobbled his lunch in 10 mins while looking that the kitchen clock, grinning at me and blowing me fishie faced kisses alternately. And after the hectic day he had, he was left with an hour to pack his suitcase, shower and change before his taxi came. Yet another short trip but I am not complaining…it could be far worse. So while he said goodbye, he took another conference call. As I watched the taxi leave our driveway, I was filled with so much peace. Peace you ask??? I’ll tell you why!!

While most you reading this would think that he is a workaholic and comment about the sad way the busy birthday was spent, I was thinking about how hard he works for us. On most days he is up at the crack of dawn working, while I am still mumbling in my sleep about something that I am writing, he is kissing me to say “good morning, see you later…I am off to work”. The weekends are strictly for me and the home. Each weekend is packed with tons of activities, chores and pampering, so I never complain. In spite of his busy days, he finds occasions to call me, sometimes for no reason at all. He makes at least 15 calls a day and each time he has to be at some superb place without me, he makes sure to call me tell me how much he misses me. Ok…the man just is crazy about me!!!! And I am so so so blessed!!! His sole focus is making his family comfortable and our lives secure and on that endeavor, he toils ceaselessly! And I make sure my appreciation and admiration is communicated, but even on the days that I forget, his drive never dips. Amazing!!

Over the years, he has loved me with everything in him. And while reading DW’s Musings 15, I could not help but be reminded of this one incident early in my courtship with hubby. Even when we were ‘just friends’, he was always taking care of me and my honour!

We lived in the same neighborhood, well we were neighbours. And those days I had a kinetic honda that I whizzed around on. On one particular day, I was riding back from the local bakery with bread and veggie puffs (which the locals insist on calling pups!), when a couple of streets before ours, I was stopped in the middle of the road by 2 young men. They were drunk and I just happened to be the one to get caught. One man stood in front of my bike and held the handle bars, so I would not take off. The other man came right next to me, pulled off my clip from my hair, took a lock of my just shampooed and blow dried kesh raashi and sniffed in typical kannada movie style. Now I was scared!!! But I stayed calm and knowing that they were drunk, did not try any stunts, lest I end up killing them or something….and luckily someone they knew came along and dragged them away while grinning at me. Some vague comment was made and I rode back home. Till then I was calm. But the moment I parked I started shivering and since I was right under hubby’s window, I looked up. The tears welling up in my eyes were enough for him, he came running out to find out what happened. When I told him, he took me into my house and started interrogating me about Who? What? Where? I could see he was livid and knowing him well, I knew what he was thinking. My dad was in shock that such a thing could happen to daughter. I had 2 cousins who had just dropped in say hello and they were watching open mouthed. They had never seen a neighbour boy flexing his muscles and fists angrily because the neighbour girl was accosted on the road.

While dad was alternating between telling me I should not be riding on the roads and telling Hubbs that he should not be trying to hit others, Hubbs was getting angrier at my father and cousins. He mumbled something about do what suits you and then hissed at me angrily, “don’t u dare cry!!”. The tears got frightened and disappeared. Then he caught hold of my wrist and dragged me off. With each big step he took, I tottered behind him with 3 small steps. He took me to the exact same spot and pointed to a couple of guys at a nearby playground and asked if that was them. I nodded in affirmation, tears welling up my eyes again. He asked me to stay put where I was and went off to confront them. He had lived in the area for many years and knew each and every guy around there. He went up to the 3 people, asked some questions calmly and soon was slapping the 2 of them silly. What neither of us noticed were the 2 cricket teams sitting nearby. They were friends of the hair smeller and they came rushing to defend their drunken friends. Hubbs did not back down, he landed quite a punch and made sure he was in a position where no more that 3 people came towards him….(don’t ask me how…ask him! I have never fought with 20 odd people before!))

One of the things about casual gang wars in the Bangalore of yore was that they were respectful even while hitting one another. Besides, they knew who Hubbs was, knew that his grandfather was in the Forensics, that his uncle was a well known lawyer..etc etc. After some 10 mins, they were all pushing and pulling each other. Clothes were getting ripped off, hair was being pulled. It just seemed like a huge tug of war and I heard the odd thwack and grunting as well. By now my cousins were by me and we were all watching open mouthed. I was asking them to intervene when out of the corner of my eye I saw a batsman taking a swing at Hubb’s head with a cricket bat. That did it!! I could not watch anymore….I was going to jump in to save Hubbs, as soon as I had freed myself from my cousin’s sudden restrictive embrace. As quickly as it had begun, it got over. Just like that…they were saying peace and making V signs and apologizing to Hubbs and hitting hair smeller on the back of his head. I still don’t know what happened. But there was camaraderie, even respect.

As we went back to my house, I scrambled for dettol and cotton. Dad and cousins were trying to lecture Hubbs and reason with him.
Dad: “You should not hit them. We could have talked to them”
Hubbs: “You talk to them Uncle…in your classrooms they will listen, not on the roads”
Dad: “But fighting is not the solution. It serves no purpose”
Hubbs: “so what should I do then? Just watch while they disrespect my best friend?”
Dad: “We should have talked to them. We could have explained that what they were doing was wrong.”
Hubbs retorted hotly: “yeah, you can negotiate with rapists and murderers, I can’t!”

This was the first time in my family there was an incident as violent as this and my cousins and Dad simply did not know how to react!!!

And while I was applying dettol on Hubbs’s, fingers and knees, I was livid and confused. I was scared too…what if the he had gotten hurt seriously?? what if the bat had landed on his head???

Me: “so what was all the pushing and pulling about? Is that how people really fight?”
Him: confused look
Me: “yeah, I mean I did not even hear ‘dishum-dishum’”
Him: Jaw drop
Me: “I mean, I was expecting to hear a nice thud while you socked that bugger on his jaw. All I heard was thwack”
Him: glaring angrily at me. “I just fought 2 cricket teams coz one idjit wanted to act fresh with you and all you can think of is dishum??? Maybe if that bat swinging monkey had cracked my skull you would have been happy!”
Me: tears welling up at the thought again
Him: Softening when he realised I was trying to ligthen the moment. “Anyway, when you hit people you never hear dishum. You should know that better than anyone. After all you hit all the time"
Me: grinning and giggling
Him: beginning to grin and then flinching when the dettol soaked piece of cotton got him off guard at a rather bloody cut.
Dad: still confused, but smiling
Cousins: still confused but pondering what the chemistry between us was about.

Later that evening, the entire gang of cricketers came and apologized to me. Hubbs had lost a gold chain during the tussle…they looked for it and returned it. When Hubbs’ uncle heard what happened, he came over and asked Hubbs angrily, “could you not have called me as well!! Its been so long since we were in a good fight!!”. Of course Hubbs’ parents were wondering why their son was fighting like a mad man for the neighbour’s daughter…little did they know then. Little did we know, then!!

And that one act of defending me gave Hubbs more than brownie points. But then over the course of years, there have been so many similar incidents…and I have been protected, fought for, defended and loved every single time. But make no mistake; he is no street fighter, he never was. Eventually I managed to get him to control that fist, but the intimidation he employs now is even more intense. And I am just so proud of him!!

After a week, he asked me why I was not riding my bike around. I had no explanation. We spoke about fear and unjustifiable guilt. And I rode my bike again….I’ve always wondered why we did not grow up together. I would have been a better person!!

And now he fights for us in corporate America. Sigh!! He just called an hour ago to tell me he had a lousy flight. All because he wanted to be with me on his b’day and hence he decided on a red eye. I am so proud of him…did I say that already??

Romancing the Old.....

The past few days I have been grooving and grooving to all sorts of music. There seems to be so much to listen to and even more to write/talk about. Frank Sinatra, Nat King Cole, Dean Martin, Ella Fitzgerald, Aretha Franklin, Tony Bennet, Louis Armstrong, Ray Charles, Lou Rawls, Little Richard, Etta James, Gladys Knight, Chuck Berry, Buddy Holly…….the list goes on and on.

Simply put these oldies are the most beautiful, romantic songs ever written. Each song is a star in the skies that will just shine forever. Not one is replaceable and not one is forgettable. And all you young un’s, these are the songs to woo your sweethearts with. There is not one occasion for which a song is not available. These performers are the masters of life, love and heartache!!
No Avril Lavigne or GnR or Beyonce or Usher can replace this gold!! This is classic, vintage…the kind of music you listen to and listen to and then… touch your index finger to your thumb to make an ‘O’, kiss the junction of the index and thumb and then move them away from your mouth and separate the fingers….while your mind says…fantabulous, bellissimo…!! It’s like fine wine, a beautiful woman, a perfect moment….superb!!

But for the time being, I am going to stay on terra firma (as much as the lovely voice I am hearing will allow) and speak of the one singer I am enjoying right now….

Michael Buble. All of 25, from Vancouver, Canada, silken voice, wonderful with the sweet swing, that I am so very attached to. Read more about him yourself – here! He is incredibly charming for his age and seems grounded as well.

Sometime last year, while looking for some good old music, I came across his album named after himself. I heard the clips they had on the site and then took a chance, hoping that my $18 would be worth the music. I was buying old songs in a new voice, after all!!

Well, I am very happy to announce that I was not disappointed. In fact I was/am thrilled!! I highly recommend Buble to any swing enthusiast. He has just come out with a new album called ‘Its time’. From the audio clips I’ve already listened to, I know I am going to buy this one as well.

The Album titled Michael Buble has a wonderful collection of songs. While I love all the originals, I find that the newer renditions have an irresistible charm of their own. Classic contemporary, I believe is what its called!! (The Executive Producer is Paul Anka! Remember??...Ok kiddie poohs, time to get educated!!)


Right Ho! Now on to the music……

*With Fever, I find Michael’s voice just sneaking up on my senses. I automatically want to turn down the lights and dance with my imaginary serenader. Forget all the zillions of videos already made on this song, I create my own.

Fever - till you sizzle, what a lovely way to burn.

* First get Fevered up and then Moondance is the only thing that makes sense…..Its one of my favorite songs…err…I have way too many favorites, I know I know!!

Well, it's a marvelous night for a moondance
With the stars up above in your eyes
A fantabulous night to make romance
'Neath the cover of October skies……

Ok! That one has me swinging, smiling, and dreaming!! Off I go into October skies with my heart full of smooth desires….

* And now I find myself at a quiet bar, with just a few people, I hear the pianist sing the song with familiar pain and notes. Kissing a fool is just so sweet and with each note that soars in my head; my heart feels somehow light and heavy at the same time.

Fooled me with the tears in your eyes
Covered me with kisses and lies

I sway gently imagining something romantically sad. And I walk past the street lamp into the dark lonely night with a slow 3 step walk.

* Next, with the booming horns, begins the song that brings with it images of a glorious summer afternoon wedding. The groom looks intently, sweetly, passionately into his bride’s teary eyes and leads her in the perfect first dance…and they both think and feel the song in their throbbing hearts together.

For Once in My Life
For once I can say
This is mine, you can't take it
As long as I've got love
I know I can make it

* Heartbreak and love can’t stay away from each other. They were wed before any man and woman ever was….How can you mend a broken heart has a way of making me feel emotions that just does not belong in my life right now. How can you want to mend a broken heart when your heart is not broken? Well, that’s how good this song is!! I have heard so many people perform this song and every time…I hug a pillow or a book or a glass of water and sigh deeply while struggling to……..

….keep the rain from falling down.
How can you stop the sun from shining?
What makes the world go round?
How can you mend this broken man?

* Oooh the Summer Wind, came blowin' in - from across the sea
It lingered there, so warm and fair - to walk with me…………..
And guess who sighs his lullabies - through nights that never end
My fickle friend, the summer wind

With soft summer smiles, it makes me kick up some sand and wrap my arms around myself on warm summer nights, while my imaginary serenader sings it for me, from some far far dream land.

* Uff, this next song gives me the sweetest, most indescribably feeling in my heart. I feel so loved every time I hear this song. And Michael has the one of the most perfect voices for love songs.

And You’ll Never find Another Love Like Mine!
No, I'm not braggin' on myself, baby
But I'm the one who loves you
And there's no one else! No one else!

* Next in line is -

This thing called love I just can't handle it
This thing called love I must get round to it
I ain't ready
Crazy little thing called love

And I am not complaining. I never complain if I can jive!! My fingers snap and my feet tap out the rhythm and my shoes stamp the wooden floors with more good times.

* But the next song has me floating in my fantastical world again……feeling in love, falling in love, over and over again!

Put Your Head On My Shoulder
Hold me in your arms, baby
Squeeze me oh so tight
Show me that you love me too.

Tender kisses, whispered nothings, maybes and maybe nots….sighs!!

* Now you start swaying with Sway…..

When marimba rhythms start to play
Dance with me, make me sway
Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore
Hold me close, sway me more
Like a flower bending in the breeze
Bend with me, sway with ease
When we dance you have a way with me
Stay with me, sway with me

Now don’t tell me you can hear that song and not sway!! I am yet to meet a person who does not feel the impulse to jump up and try some sort of a jig, when they hear this song.

* This one has to be a classic walk down the curved marble staircase. Dressed in a pretty evening dress, among the clinking of wine glasses and muted laughter, the whole room fades out softly and he only has eyes for her….while his lips curve into a wickedly charming smile, her heart skips a beat.

Some day, when I'm awfully low,
When the world is cold,
I will feel a glow just thinking of you
And the way you look tonight.

Listen to the song and you’ll know what I mean!

* Come fly with me, let's fly, let's fly away
If you can use some exotic booze
There's a bar in far Bombay
Come fly with me, let's fly, let's fly away

That’s the honey moon song that follows the previous one! I want to travel the world….I know I will always have that one on hand to listen to. So even if I travel alone, I won’t be alone.

* And the perfect finale to this entire ensemble is That’s All.

I can only give you love that lasts forever,
And a promise to be near each time you call.

With this song fresh in my heart, the promises renewed and love re-stated…I remain content and dreamy eyed.


Hmmm with the perfect mood now, perhaps its time to whip out some Barry White…Oh Hubbs honey!! Where are you???

Max Erhmann's Desiderata

Desiderata

Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons,
they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.

Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs;
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment
it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.

You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.



This poem by Max Ehrmann, was sent to me by DW. Thanks Dee…I did like it and so am posting it for all to enjoy!! I am thankful for the…err…continued education…Proffy!
Indeed the wisdom in this poem is desiderata. (Desiderata = something highly desirable or necessary).

When I first read it, I thought the poet had gleaned a lot from his reading of the Proverbs from his Bible…and then I could also imagine my grandparents, one on either side of me, passing on some love and wisdom….it just has that lovely preachy tone which is completely encapsulated in authoritative love. You read/hear something like this and you know it’s better for you to take it in the right spirit.

Perhaps we should all read it and read it often. Especially when we are on the brink of another emotional boilover….:-)))))

Shashi Tharoor's Poetry

What with all the ranting about timely rejoinders and love letters about the precision or the lack of it in poetry, and Vivek reminding me about Shashi Tharoor...I just had to go to his site and dig this poem out. And this was just on DSS

The other reason for this poem to appear here is PriyaSivan's very well written Momentary Emotions and Helplessness.

Well....enjoy!! Vivek also tells me this poem is from The Riot!!



Advice to Officialdom: How to Sleep At Night

Try to think of nothing.
That's the secret.

Try to think of nothing.
Do not think of work not done,
of promises unkept, calls to return,
or agendas you have failed to prepare for meetings
yet unheld.

Think of nothing.
Do not think of words said and unsaid,
of minor scandals and major investigations,
of humiliations endured, insults suffered,
or retorts that did not spring to mind
in time.

Think of nothing.
Do not think of your forgotten wife,
of lonely children and their reproachful demands,
or the smile of the pretty woman
whose handshake lingered just a shade too long
in your palm.

Think of nothing.
Do not think of newspaper headlines,
of the insistent transience of the InfoNet,
or the seductive stridency of the TV microphones
thrust so thrillingly
into your face.

Think of nothing.
Do not think of the waif on the foreign sidewalk,
her large eyes open in supplication,
her ragged shift stained by dirt and dust,
stretching her despairing hand toward you
in hope.

No, do not think
of the woman at the building site,
wobbling pan of stones on her head,
walking numb for the thousandth time
from pile to site and site to pile
as her neglected baby scrabbles in the dust,
eats sand and wails,
unheard.

Think of nothing.
Do not think of the starving infant,
parched lips mute in hunger,
sitting slumped in the mud,
his eyes fading before his heart.
Do not think
of the stark ribs of skeletal cattle,
unable to provide milk, or hope,
in drought-dried lands of which
you know nothing.

Think of nothing.
Do not think
of the dead-eyed refugee, dispossessed
of everything he once called home.
Do not think
of the unsmiling girl whose once-sturdy thigh
now ends at the knee, the rest blown off
by a thoughtless mine on her way
to the well.

No, do not think
of the solitary tear, the broken limb,
the rubble-strewn home, the choking scream;
never think
of piled-up bodies, blazing flames,
shattered lives, or sundered souls.
Do not think of the triumph of the torturer,
the wails of the hungry,
the screams of the mutilated,
or the indifferent smirk
of the sleek.

Think of nothing.
Then you will be able
to sleep.

scrub-a-dub-dub till its squeeky clean!!

Women clean a lot!!

They clean their kitchens, their bathrooms…especially when upset. Now I am not talking of the routine cleaning that every home needs on a day to day basis. I am talking of women using the process of cleaning, scrubbing and making some thing/place spotless and perfect, for cathartic reasons. I have spoken to my girl friends about this and most of them concur that this is what they typically do when they are stark raving mad, frustrated or sad and have no other way to show it!!

I am reminded of my Mother when I was younger, as well as my many aunts and aunties. I recollect that every single time Ma and Pa had an argument/disagreement; there would be a certain pattern to the whole production that ensued. Sure, the banging vessels are almost a mandatory feature. I am sure every family has such memories in wholesale quantities!! Err…you say your family never had such episodes?? Of course not!! You all have the most wonderful families!

Well coming back to the topic…so there was the banging of vessels and other things, followed by the litany of murmurs and baritone monologues that were supposed to hit a mark and make an impact. Of course, as the norm demands, the person who is at the receiving end of such ‘messages’ by now has switched off his mind and ears and is now staring vacantly into a space(s) that is seemingly safe. After the banging and loud reorganizing of an assortment of dabbas with all sorts of grains and spices, and/or the papers, mails, book cases, closets etc, comes the verbal lull! It is precisely at this moment, that the utensils are traded for the sponge/scrub/duster.

I can recollect countless episodes where I myself have spent hours just cleaning my 2 burner gas stove back in India, right after the maid had done a pretty good job of it. I recollect obsessing over the bathroom tiles and the irremovable brown spots in the grout between the tiles. I recollect my pathetic delight when I first came to the US and saw the cleaning supplies aisle in the grocery store. I was ecstatic!! (I know its pathetic, no need to rub it in!!) They had so many cleaning agents…for the windows, for the kitchen, for tough stains, for grease, for delicate surfaces, for floors, in orange scents, and apple…even grapefruit!! I was soon stuffing my cleaning supplies cabinet with these goodies…and not to mention our laundry detergents, fabric softeners, bleach, toilet cleaners, tub n tile cleaners as well as the no-scum after shower sprayers, the dishwasher detergents…etc etc all came and still come from Costco. I have more cleaning supplies in my garage than utensils to cook with!!

It all came as one big shock to me, when one day I caught myself rather angry with my Hubbs over something. While he chose to go to work and get over the episode, I chose to clean. As I donned my yellow rubber gloves, and sprayed my stove with Orange Clean All Purpose Cleaner, I suddenly noticed that the stove looked clean as it was. With mild irritation, I wiped it clean and then went to the bathroom. The tub did require scrubbing, so I started off….and midway I asked myself if I would be doing this, had it not been for the argument we had had. To my own surprise, the answer was ‘NO’. Since then I have thought about this on and off…and come to some conclusions of my own.

We use such opportunities to wallow in our miseries and indulge in pity parties. In the process of cleaning we pity ourselves with thought statements like, “see how much I do, and all he can do is watch TV or go to his office!”, or “This is all I am! A glorified house maid”, “I do so much, do I even get one word of appreciation!” etc!! Come now ladies, be honest! We’ve all been there, there’s no shame in admitting that!! This is also the time we are reminded of our maids back in India. We forget for a minute the number of times we yelled at her for being tardy or inefficient. Instead we miss them so much that we shed a few tears of love. Also the perfect time to lament the fact that maids in the US are so expensive, perhaps even get angrier by asking ourselves why the husbands cannot see the desperate need to dispense the $100 a month to have the toilets cleaned and carpets vacuumed. We simply end up feeling worse and bitterer!

When I realized what I was doing, I stopped cleaning while in an upset mood. Now, when I am upset, I write, or take a walk or do anything else…but I refuse to clean!! As a result, my house is not as spotless and shiny as it used to be. (Sort of gives away the fact that I (used to) get upset a lot!) But then, I don’t mind!! I am not as obsessive as before and that to me is a healthier state of mind. So, when Hubbs does not put away his cereal bowl in the kitchen sink or the dishwasher, I don’t mind so terribly anymore. (Don’t tell anyone that right now I am singularly obsessed about cleaning my cluttered garage, can’t wait for a sunny day on a weekend!)

However, my pondering about the connection between cleaning and upset women has not stopped. Is it because we model after other similar women that we end up being such beings?? Do we get conditioned at an early age? Or is it because we get domesticated? Is it some primitive instinct in us that makes us go for that sponge like it’s the only hope left for us?

This whole process makes women in general sound pathetic and hopeless!! I am sure many of you will scream at me and say ‘get a life!!’ But it’s the truth!! A lot of women world over are like this….and is time to reach out to them!! As odd and funny as this seems, it may even save many a marriage from the brink of destruction!!

How Chay, can I save my marriage, you ask?? I’ll tell you how!! Throw away those sponges you all…be liberated henceforth from the scrub-monster that feeds on all the anger and frustration. Find better ways to vent!! Write!!!

Ok I better stop rambling! I think I lost my point a long time back!!

Love Actually!!

Just saw the movie Love Actually for the second time.

The first time I saw, it was around Christmas last year, cuddled up under our Christmassy blanket, with hubby’s warm arms around me. There was plenty of hot chocolate topped with mini-marshmallows, cookies, snacks, truffles and my very special Christmas cake, the many Christmas lights twinkling ever so charmingly, warming up the house and our hearts, inside and out. Towards the end of the movie we both were grinning and crying tears of joy when Jamie proposed marriage to Aurelia in Portuguese and she accepted in English….we both let out loud whoops of joy when little Sam dashed across airport security to tell the love of his life that he loved her. We both felt the pains and heartaches. We both felt the simple love that the picture spoke about…A simply superb flick!!

Please do watch this picture, if you have not already watched it. Other reasons I liked the movie – Hugh Grant, Colin Firth, Liam Neeson, Emma Thompson, Hugh Grant, interwoven love stories across the British society, tasteful mocking of the American President and American bimbettes, Hugh Grant, great and effective music, some wonderful dialogues, Hugh Grant, and Christmas, of course!! It’s yet another great romantic comedy. I am so totally in love with most of director/screen writer Richard Curtis’s British romantic movies …Notting Hill, Bridget Jones and all her diaries, Four Weddings and a Funeral….did you notice all the movies I mentioned have Hugh Grant??? Oh! And Colin Firth as well!! Charming…both of them! (Chay blushing gently and fluttering eyelashes. Ufff pa!!))

Well anyway, I am Hugh Granting….err…beg your pardon!! I meant digressing. (get a grip girl!!)

This second time I saw the movie, I was alone. I chose to watch it in the middle of the day. But it just so happens that as many love stories as this movie had, there was not one that I could relate to my life at this very point of time. That left me rather alarmed, but at least it pointed me towards the right train of thought, and for me that’s always a good thing. Yet again in my life…a make-believe movie is helping me determine something terribly important. Aahhh, the irony of it all!!

Hugh Grant in his gorgeous voice and accent says the opening lines….
“Love Actually… is… all… around!!”
And I ask myself, “do you see it??”
Oh yess oh yess oh yess I do. It is there alright!!
However, the buts…ifs…they abound and confound!!
Like Sam says in the movie…what’s worse than the total agony of being in love?

Imagine This!!

Imagine this!!

She is dressed in a gorgeous Kanjeevaram – not with the traditional zari work, but a simple, elegant one with a soft lustre and a rich colour. It is draped perfectly, the pleats are like a waterfall at her feet with every step she takes, the pallu drapes a shoulder delicately, and her thin waist is highlighted, curving sensually! The sleeve of the blouse sits on her smooth arm and the low back shows off the glowing softness of her skin. And on her back are strands of red from an intricately designed, yet simple kundan necklace that adorns her pretty neck. Just one pretty bracelet on each wrist and elegant kundan jhumkas with tiny pearls play hide and seek with hair cascading down her shoulders in luxurious tumbles and waves. She looks so natural with kajal lining her eyes, the lashes carrying just a tiny bit of mascara, a nude shade of lipstick and a touch of shimmering gloss. She has simple strappy sandals; the ankles are adorned with delicate payals that make the slightest of tinkles, all set off by pretty toenails in light pink…just like the pretty feet in the ads. The dabs of perfume on her neck and wrist waft ahead and announce her arrival. She is looking so fine!!! This is the look that dazzles and captivates many a heart. Her confidence is what makes her sexy and she knows it. She feels so peaceful and certain that this will be a great evening!! Maybe her bewitching smile will win some heart worthy of her attention tonight and a new fairy tale will be created. A mischievous smile lights up her eyes as her manicured fingers with a lone sparkling solitaire reach for the door. They are pulled open for her by a huge man in jeans and a flowery shirt. She politely smiles and says “thank you” and walks in. She enters the doors...and the look on her face changes from one of peace and expectancy to a blank one.

Everyone there is dressed differently. The men are wearing tight tees, leather pants, jeans and short transparent kurtas….the women are in hipsters, tubes, minis and oddly shaped strips of cloth. The music is ear shattering, heart thumping - a dhung dhung dhunging mixture of rap and techno and what not!! The DJ is trippin’ and the crowd is groovin’. The drinks are flowin’, the bar is crowded. The air smells of cigarette smoke and liquor. The faint sweetish smell of marijuana floats from some distant corner. The people have shed inhibitions and are making out everywhere…the soft muted lights mingled with the flashing disco lights and smoke make it hard to see who is who. A drunken girl that’s passing by bumps into a post loses her balance and falls on the floor. A man sitting on a nearby barstool picks her up and smacks her bottom and they laugh raucously.

And then, one by one….they stop doing their thing and start looking at her. They point fingers and ask questions. Their jaws are hanging and by the look on their faces, she becomes terribly distressed. Somewhere in a corner a snigger starts and soon the ripples of laughter turn into a minor tsunami of derision and humiliation!! She is mortified, as some people start making cat calls and nasty comments. They mention some names, associate her with some characteristics…they judge her!! As she stands there seemingly glued to the floor, she is at a complete loss for words or motion.

Now imagine this!!

She is dressed in the cutest short skirt that sits right at the middle of her thigh. She has sexy long legs that are accentuated by the hippest strappy sandals. A lone anklet adorns her pedicured feet. Her tank top is just perfect near your navel…now you see it, now you don’t! A real tease!! The backless halter top she is wearing glitters and shimmers delicately and the fabric ripples against her skin. Her hair is layered and smoothed, but kinked at all the right places perfectly! Eyes have just a tiny touch of kohl and smoky blue eye shadow; lips are perfectly lined and glossed to a shiny bright red. Just like the models. A small cute purse that is too tiny to hold anything but some lip gloss and credit cards hangs delicately from her shoulder, her French manicured fingers caressing the strap casually, a single platinum bracelet sits snugly against the wrist. Delicate feathery earrings float in the air as she walks. Her confidence is her oomph! She knows she will have a great evening! And the wicked, sensual smile says that she might just find some guy interesting enough to share her coffee in her yellow mug tomorrow morning. As she walks towards the door, a young man wearing a kurta walks out and holds the door till she walks in. The look on his face pleases her, so she makes eye contact and huskily says ‘thank you’! She enters…and the look on her face changes from one of sexiness to one of fright.

Everyone there is dressed differently. The men are wearing silk/cotton kurtas/kurtis, waistcoats, salwars and ironed jeans. The women are in valkalams, pashminas, khadi silk long skirts and hand painted silk/cotton kurtis. The music is a jugalbandi between Pt. Hariprasad Chaurasia, Pt. Shiv Kumar Sharma and Ustad Alla Rakha. The people are all in groups across the room. The conversation varies from philosophy to literature to NGOs to the latest theatre production. The bar carries fine drinks and the finger foods are served by turbaned waiters in closed neck kurtas. Above the music and the snippets of conversation a random guffaw or giggle is heard from every other corner. In the group that is closest to the door, a stylish looking spectacled man offers everyone cigarettes from his silver case and lights them one by one, starting with the short-haired woman to his right. As she raises her head, and sees her. She taps the bearded man to her right and they all turn towards her.

And then, one by one….they stop doing their thing and start looking at her. They look at her with a shocked expression, smile politely, look away quickly and talk about her. They ask one another if they know her, they whisper conspiratorially. The look at her legs and she suddenly feels naked. While she smiles nervously wondering if now is a good time to turn around and run, someone walks towards her and says, “Arrey Beta, why are you still by the door, do come in? Where are dad & mom??”

Did you imagine that?

Now there can be 3 different conclusions/endings to these situations. Let’s explore all three, shall we?

First ending:

The Kanjeevaram clad woman took the plunge, found a friend in the disco and made some more new friends. She hitched up her saree delicately, tucked her pallu in her waist, drank coke instead of the usual red wine and danced till the early morning hours. She did find an interesting conversationalist, learnt a few new dance moves and slangs, she accepted compliments and jokes about her saree with equal wit and grace and she forgot all about the party she was supposed to go to.

The hip woman allowed to be introduced to people, made smart conversation, flirted lesser than she would normally have and drank cocktails instead of tequila. She made good conversation with the director of a local NGO and humbly admitted her lack of understanding of Hindustani classical music. When invited to a play the following week, she accepted with grace and forgot all about the party she was supposed to go to.

Now while these two women are confident, sexy and intelligent, they have their own personalities. Given the need, they can be comfortable in both atmospheres and carry themselves off with natural charm and wit. However, dressed as they are, they cannot be in the wrong party without being judged. Knowing that, they gracefully come through as mature and wise women, making the most of every situation. Clearly they are what we would call winners.

Second ending:

The Kanjeevaram clad woman bursts into tears, runs out of the disco and bumps into the huge bouncer. When he tries to steady her, she gets a fright and screams at him to leave her alone. Well…she loses it!

The hip woman stutters and says that she came alone. Then she spends the rest of the evening pulling her skirt down in some hope that her nakedness will not be noticed. A middle aged woman stops her and tells her she should not be wearing such clothes. Most of the men stare and letch, most of the women look away embarrassed. After a while she loses it, yells at some one, and uses some foul language and runs out angry and crying.
It’s the same women alright…with the exact same confidence, sexiness and intelligence. But they loose their head, cool, tempers and respect.

Third ending:

The Kanjeevaram clad woman, laughs along with the crowd, says, “Oh what a phat party!! It’s a pity I am at the wrong one. Well perhaps I can join you the next time!!” She turns around and walks out with a cheerful smile and composure.
The hip woman says, “Oh, I am so sorry! I think I came to the wrong address! But this looks swell!! Well, enjoy yourselves, everyone!!” She turns around and walks out with a cheerful smile and composure.

It’s the same women again…with the exact same confidence, sexiness and intelligence, yet again. But they choose to handle this situation with grace, dignity and good manners.

I do have a point I assure you!!

Its simple….if you want to attend a certain party, dress/behave appropriately. It does not mean you change your self as a person, just that you behave/converse in accordance with the in house rules/boundaries. If for some reason, there is a goof up and you do end up at the wrong party…either be smart enough to make the most of the situation, or exit with grace. If you can do neither, then be prepared for the consequences that arise from your behaviour.

To be more general and more importantly so - …these things apply in every walk of our lives….our behaviours, our attitudes & thoughts, and what we do with them, is what makes…or breaks us. The choice really is ours!!

At every important crossroad of my life, I find myself becoming less volatile and more focused. And I think it’s important for us to be encouragers rather than critiques. Again, that’s a personal choice each of us makes for ourselves…exclusively our own!

Do read this is good cheer!!
And with plenty of salt…a must for tequila!!
If nothing else, at least enjoy my writing!!

Cheers!!

99.9 FM - Pleasant Blend!!

In my quest for some new music to listen to, I came across a Hindi movie album on Raaga.com. I did not know there was a new Hindi movie called 99.9 FM. But then, I am no authority on movies. From what I gathered over from an assortment of Bollywood websites, this is a movie about radio jockeys and the movie has no producer!! I figured the movie is not yet released when I found no movie reviews and a just a couple of music reviews.

As I looked at the list of artists on this album, I was impressed! The movie track is a definite aberration from the stereotype – the album has a medley of artists with a wide assortment of music. It is also highly uncharacteristic of typical Indian movie soundtracks, with only 2 of its numbers being produced exclusively for the movie. That had me interested, alright!!

The Album starts with Kate Nahi Raat, by Ustad Sultan Khan. Known more famously for his mastery over the Saarangi, his repertoire includes singing as well. The song is very well rendered and this piece has some beautiful Saarangi and piano work. A wonderful beginning to this album!!

Biddu 'booms' next with Nirvana. There are just a few bits of conventionally styled violin-flute music and that was a bit disappointing. It has a retro-pop feel to it that is appealing.

Zila Khan follows with Kesariya – Beautiful!! The daughter of Ustad Vilayat Ali Khan, Zila Khan has given a very soulful rendition of this common Rajasthani folk song, in the Mand Raaga. The song itself was popularized by Lata Mangeshkar in Lekin. Zila’s version definitely brings new meaning and depth to this song.

Shubha Mudgal’s Intezaar is next. A contemporary fusion piece with some verse recital, it is laced with some jazz. Shubha’s rich voice amplifies the painful process of waiting. The lyrics by Prasoon Joshi are poignant - aayega who dhoop ka tukda ik din meer dwaar.

Shaan’s Tanha Dil carries the same mood in a lighter note. It’s a perfect blend on nostalgia and youthfulness. Also featured from the same compilation is Ghumsum. Both the songs are airy yet touch all the right chords in your heart. Enjoyable!

Usha Uthup sings Sau Feesadi – one of the 2 songs composed by Piyush Khanojia for the movie. The music itself is too funky for my taste and the zest that normally accompanies Usha’s songs was missing.

This compilation of maestros has been graced by the immortal voice of Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan as well. Sanoon Ek Pal reverberates through the atmosphere as you conjure images of old world courtship in the yellow fields of Punjab.

The Biddu connection comes back into the album with Zoheb Hassan’s Muskuraaye Jaa with the unmistakable 80’s Disco theme!! This song is originally from the Hindi Movie Star starring Kumar Gaurav & Rati Agnihotri. I had forgotten the movie, but then who can forget Nazia & Zoheb, the Pakistani brother sister duo who popularized pop!! Biddu is the true pioneer of Indi-pop as we know it today.

Movement- by Sum - (Sumangali) was next. I found a bit of a disconnect in this piece. It sounds close to Taufiq’s percussion ensembles, but does have its own resonance. Raindance – is the other piece of music - a contemporary percussion medley. Frankly, I've heard them perform better music. Besides, there was an attempt to bring an orphic mystical element, and it jars a bit. It’s definitely worth watching this group.

Shubha’s strong voice follows in Is Pal – Has a bit of a Caribbean-Calypso touch – can hear some pan drumming in the background. Good fusion! ....banjaare armaan hain, awara sapne hain
Exceptional singing, the Prasoon Joshi-Shantanu Moitra-Shubha Mudgal collaboration never fails!

The other number by Shubha is Chori Chori – pop fusion. It showcases her versatility. The song itself is beautiful, but the music does not do justice to Shubha’s singing or the lyrics.

Zia Mohyeddin recites some wonderful Urdu verse by Faiz Ahmed Faiz. Zia Saab’s powerful voice intensifies every emotion that one tends to feel while listening to such poetry. When he recites Tun Na aaye to har cheez each word paints the many colours of love. And in Yeh Mujhe Azeez bhi aur Napasand, one feels the sheer bitter-sweet agony of life. The simplicity and eloquence with which these few lines have been recited left me with goose bumps. I am unable to say which is better – the poetry or the recital. Language, indeed, is no boundary!!

They always save the best for last!! Pt. Bhimsen Joshi!! Yes!! Pt. Bhimsen Joshi sings his famous Bhajan in Bhairavi - Jo Bhaje Hari Ko Sada. Needless to say, he is wonderful!! And as expected, it triggered off many memories of ‘Dasara Padas’ and all the music and verses came tumbling down from the old memory cupboard. Nostalgia in vernacular Kannada!! If you have not already heard his Bhajans in Kannada, I recommend it.

The entire album ends with another of Piyush Khanojia’s compositions for the movie. It is a nice instrumental piece which blends well into the background. I can’t help but wonder if that is where it is used.

The complete injustice to both of Zia Mohyeddin’s poetry recitals is in the way in which the songs have been placed. The heavy poems sandwich Shaan’s Ghumsum, and are followed by the rather funky Chori Chori. While the mood of Ghumsum might be more or less the same, it completely diffuses the intensity of the Urdu poetry.

It is a real pleasure to see Pt. Bhimsen Joshi, Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, Zia Mohyeddin, Shubha Mudgal, Ustad Sultan Khan, Zila Khan, Shaan and Biddu all on the same stage, sharing the same passion. It is truly glorious that a time has come when the most authentic and popular genre of Indian music can be so well integrated with the most powerful entertainment media in the country, in such a holistic manner. I look forward to similar harmonious & complementary synthesis.

Enjoy!!

Chay Says Hey!!!

This is my Intro Blog for DSS. Do visit there.... the craic is on!!


The party is in full swing! The saxophone and clarinet can be heard from quite a distance. The live band has everyone grooving on the dance floor. The mood sure is festive!! As expected I am a bit late. Right above the door is a big banner which reads “Dud Sea Scrawls – Putting the Cipher back in Decipher”. As I walk in, a great samba starts off. I watch with a huge grin on my face as accomplished dancers sweep the floors with aplomb and enthusiasm.

As I look around, I spot a few familiar faces, most are new. Or is it just that I am new? But my feet have found their rhythm already. I pick up a glass of bubbly from a passing salver and make my way further into the party. I see SSM on the far side of the room, grin on face, conversing with someone I don’t know. SSM hey there!! I wave and he waves back.

Oh look!! Geebs is right around the corner!! As I make my way towards her, I notice Cheti’s with her as well. They are chit chatting about the juniors and their antics. Geebs Maami, you look grand tonight!! Cheti, long time no see!! What new questions are you answering these days??

I excuse myself and walk towards a rather merry group. And why wouldn’t they be merry, they are talking about some Saturday fantasies!! Humsafar is turning all shades of red while the others are teasing her. A warm hug for Top Kapi and Soy, I am meeting you both after a long time. Hi Ascii, Its been a while since we met as well!!

I see Ananthu who is gesturing me to join him. As I make my way towards him, I notice Yosso, Ooops! I mean Ubermensch, lost in deep contemplation, the look in his eyes intensifies with the conversation, but I can’t see who he is talking with. There’s Ardra talking animatedly with Choc/Priya. I wave and blow them both kisses. LL and Void are in a serious discussion over men, women and their IQs.

Phew! I finally reach Ananthu and he introduces me to Fizo, who gets another congratulatory hug for a fabulous start to a new series. While we are chit-chatting, Inmyeye stops by to say hello. She looks splendid in a red Banarasi. Hugs and hellos, congratulations and celebrations!!

Buck, the perfect host stops by and welcomes me warmly, but he also chides me gently for being late. I mock salute him and say, “Pardon Sir! Aye Cap’m Sir!!”

Amidst all the laughter, the champagne flows along with the jazz, more dancing, sparkling diamonds, flashing pearls, cocktails and crackers, strawberries and brie, fragrant summer flowers, soft clinking of glasses…later on some Chopin, more laughter, poetry, toasts, more wine, aching feet , singing together, soft sunrises and new friendships…. and many more parties…the craic never ends

I am not a total stranger here.
But it’s nice to be where I can belong…..
I have much to learn and a bit to share.

Le’ Chaim!!

Unexpected!! Untimely!!

March 29th, 2005

Untimely!! Just when the dreariness of winter is being broken with the freshness of spring!! But spectacular no doubt!!

The clouds broke earlier and we had a spot of sunshine. And then suddenly we were hearing loud cantankerous bursts like firecrackers during Diwali! It sure was sweet!! So as Hubbs and I ran out like a couple of excited kids, the hail increased in tempo - great big balls of ice!! Its not that we have never been in snow or hail, just that it was most unexpected!!! And hence, exciting for Chay!!

In a matter of minutes the whole neighbourhood was blanketed in white, the rooftops are white, the ground beneath is crunching like no one’s business!! Awesome!!!! The little pearls were bouncing off the umbrella I was under, I was munching on some of the hail stones, and I was immediately transported to Madikeri, when I was 4, when along with Gayatri the maid, I got caught in a hail storm while on the way back from Thamaiah’s shop. We had been there for some much needed Cadbury’s, among other things. We had so much fun all way back home. Collecting the marble sized hail and wondering why they had to be cold and disappear so fast. Eating the ice and cramming more into my freezing mouth!!! What memories!!!

As Hubbs was trying to capture more memories on our cameras, I was reminded of Mrs. Goel’s famous saabu-daana khichdi that she made only during her Hare-Rama Hare-Krishna meetings. Mrs. Goel was a neighbour in one of my apartments in Bangalore. We always got a bucketful of her khichdi. Even Hubbs remarked that the little pearls reminded him of saabu-daana.

After the shock of the first 15 minutes, some Desi children came running out of one house with cardboard boxes. They were trying to sled down the street. How indigenous of them!! Another Desi family came out, mama still in her jammies and trying to stuff her daughter’s hand in a jacket’s sleeve. They ran out and played happily, the papa stuffing down fistfuls of ice down mama’s jacket!! Could not help but notice our American neighbours were in a foul mood over the weather. And none of the American kids are out on the streets playing.

As suddenly as the heaven had opened up, a small flash, muted by the gray clouds above announced the thunder that was following, the skies echoed the loud crashes and booms and my head filled up with my favorite songs of worship!!! How awesome are the wonders that God has made, how awesome is Nature, how awesome is The Maker!!!

While I am writing this, the hail has turned to rain, the sun is still managing to shine thru’ a bit. I bet there are some beautiful rainbows somewhere, beyond which are many blessings.

Blooms & Springs - Love Letters 12

Another day gone by…..and with it another season gone by. Fall…winter….and now spring is here. Seasons of life – they have left me seasoned and mellow.

The ground is fallow and hard. But yet through it are springing shoots of newness. The tulips and the irises, the crocuses and the daffodils, they all gently nod their heads yet shiver in their delightful colours. Robins herald new love and the woodpecker pecks at a tall hemlock.

Everything seems like a perfect equation that is set in perfect synchrony. The long days, the short nights – all in harmonious syncopation to bring forth my life from its quiescence. The warm sunshine streaming through my sheer lace curtains kiss my eye lashes and nudge me gently. The soft fading night lights weigh heavy on the same eyelashes and lead me into the open arms of sleep. As I tip toe around my carefully built world, I find virgin nooks and corners that have never before seen light or love. With paint and glitter I decorate these sanctuaries of hope. I make new memories and write new poems. But everything I touch has already been touched by you….everything seems soiled, everything seems blessed.

Each new day, my thoughts are new. But they always begin the same way – with you. You see, the cherry tree did not die. It’s budding now and soon the whole tree will be covered with tiny white blossoms. And I so wish we had planted a fruit bearing cherry instead of this flowering one. If we had something worthwhile…it would bear fruit….it would have borne fruit.

I am in a constant state of amazement….life lives! Completely, joyfully and victoriously!!

Yours Affectionately!!

*************************

I suppose this is the last one in the series. I really do not know if this is a good way to end it. But if I write any more love letters, I will definitely post them!!

Fall Colours - Love Letters 11

You left last fall. Amidst hues of flaming oranges and reds, you left…a blazing trail of shared memories behind you. The embers that fell aside set fire to the piles of dead desires. Some of them smolder yet…And when you went, you took with you the last leaf on the crab-apple tree. Since then all the trees have been bare – the maple, the birch, even the cherry tree we planted together.

The fall colours were like royal banners…. torn by the wind, one last salute to the dying dream. And when the dream died, the roads were strewn with brown – dull dry dead! The flying leaves that escaped the rake rot in corners – decaying, dirtying the beautiful structures. What once was full of life is now rot.

The dying flames have given way to bare silence – icy and cold, reminiscent of the last few days when we lay next to each other, oceans keeping us apart. The frigid air has made the tangled blueberry bush into shards of stone. As I hacked away on remnants of moments long gone, on the patches of frost fell huge drops of bright red…were they from my bleeding heart, I wonder? The winter has numbed my senses….I have wounded my hands, not just my heart. I bind my hand and watch the miracle of healing. My body heals itself, can my heart be made whole….

The cherry tree seems to be dying; I saw mushrooms on the ground beneath it.

Your Love

Solitude - Love Letters 10

I'm only human… I'm just a woman…..help me believe in what I could be…and all that I am…show me the stairway I'll have to climb…Lord for my sake… teach me to take….one day at a time….one day at a time…. just give me the strength to do every day...what I have to do…yesterday's gone …tomorrow may never be mine… show me the way…one day at a time…Lord give me the grace to live…grace to live – just to TRIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNGGGGG!!!
*************

Yet another day!! This morning I was praying and singing in my sleep. Don’t ask, so what’s new? You know some things will never change. Remember that time when I woke up to find you at 3.37 am …fast asleep on your knees!!

It’s been a while since we have been apart now. But I cannot get over the habit of speaking with you. I am reminded of the time when little Nicky’s dad left and we told her that he was out of town on work. Then we proceeded to live the next month as if he were going to walk in the door at any time. We were trying to deceive a child. And now I am trying to delude myself…that you are on your way home.

It’s not terribly hard being without you. I still go about the things I always did – the bills, the taxes, the laundry and the meals. I am able to do more as well…I am doing all the things that have been on my list, one by one I am scoring it off. Living life, being more than a wife… but I do miss you. Would it have been impossible for you to stay? Was it really so hard to allow me to be more than me?
I mow the lawn now, it’s not so hard. I am now certain that the only reason you abhorred mowing was because it kept you from the other green you loved. I also bought golfing lessons...maybe its time I learned how to just connect the club to the ball…and stopped playing golf like it were cricket. And I also found a new racquet ball partner. I bought some new hiking boots as well. I changed the brand of coffee we use. I bought you some new white dress shirts and a nice evening dress for myself…I have to attend Maria’s promo this weekend. I got a subscription for those photography magazines you always wanted. I finally learnt how to change a tire…ok the valet did it and I watched!! I managed to restart the paper I was writing….I got a package from Amma last week…she sent me another sari and some new books for you. I will send them across soon. I am going away this summer to Greece…. I also tried the dress you sent me for my birthday. As always it fits perfectly! You remembered! I’d shown it 3 months ago from across the street. I remember that day. We were getting late for our settlement meetings …yet you remembered….that was sweet of you!! …I baked your favorite casserole this evening.

I miss you alright! But life goes on. I know you miss me too. You might have regrets for having left. I am certain you feel guilty. See, in all the years you have lived, there has been not one person that walked this planet, who’s known you as well I have. I told you before….I won’t judge you for having left. And I don’t hold you responsible either. So stop feeling guilty!

What are you doing right now? Sitting at your table….staring at the take-out containers? Eat it before it gets cold…I know you still have not gotten a new microwave for the office pantry. Tomorrow is Natasha’s birthday…Take her out for lunch if nothing else…And did you remember to send the cheque to Nair Aunty? Tell Natasha…she’ll take care of it for you.

I won’t be able to go to Bess’s this evening. I have a dinner meeting. So I wont see you…I will miss that. Perhaps for the better! Don’t forget to take some chocolates or wine to Bess’s when you go there. Take the truffles from Nicolette’s store…she loves those. And don’t be mean to Claire and tease her about that painting again. Make sure you stay away from Tara…she wants your time and cheque book even more now…now that you are single. Try not to be too abrasive with Shukla…and say hello to Mistry for me…There I go again…. I am forgetting myself now!! And stop laughing at me!! …yeah…I am sniffing the way I always do when you tease me.

It is so easy to be myself again, but so hard to stop being your wife…I wonder if I will ever stop being your wife. After all…I still finish your sentences and you still speak my thoughts…

Still yours,
Your Love!