Chez Chay

Interview with Ravi Kuchimanchi of Aid

2008-11-06T20:26:00.000-08:00

I recently met with Ravi Kuchimanchi, founder of AID to interview him for KBCS - One World Report. Please find the audio clip below. I know it ends rather abruptly and the audio on my side is pretty distorted. Too bad, I was not involved in the editing...I've been tied up with some health related issues. Nonetheless, the story was broadcast today and you can listen to it here - you have to read the lead first though :-)

Arpana
_________________________________________

Interview with Ravi Kuchimanchi founder of the Association for India's Development (AID)
Ravi Kuchimanchi is the founder of the Association for India's Development, or AID. AID was created to remind overseas Indian communities of the plight the less fortunate and underprivileged face back in their home country and to inspire them to get involved. According to their website, they aim to promote development that is sustainable, equitable and just. AID was founded in 1991 while Kuchimanchi was working on his Ph.D. in Physics at the University of Maryland . One World Report’s Arpana Sanjay recently caught up with Kuchimanchi. He was in Seattle to help volunteers at AID’s year-old local chapter raise funds for the upcoming holiday season. Arpana began by asking Kuchimanchi to explain the mission of his group, AID.
Interviewer: Arpana Sanjay
KBCS - OWR Archives

Dried Tears

2008-11-01T14:15:00.000-07:00

the grief in my heart
had bubbled forth.
an unstoppable swell
had broken loose
you had caught
the warm wetness
in your palm and
wiped away fears
and the world began
to melt and fade

For each tear that
fell from my eyes
there was another
that fell from your heart
but now my eyes
are all dried up
for each word that falls
from your careless lips
I lose a tear from my heart
which feels like solid rock

time changes everything
everyone changes with time
tears are like dishwater
impure, soiled, like waste
like your broken promises
like my unborn children
all meaningless memories
old passions and desires
that wont let me live
that wont let me die

Aug 2005....a long time back!

Bliss!!

2008-10-30T10:19:00.001-07:00

I listened to a lot of music as a kid. Probably more than any other kid I knew and a wider variety than most adults as well. I’d look forward to having the house to myself and would be super happy if my parents had to go somewhere without me. With Mom out of the door, there was no limit to how loud the music could get. And we had no neighbors for at least a quarter of a mile. Heaven!! Dancing to the loud music on my terrace when it was raining, the music so loud that nothing could get thru’ no door bells and no phone rings…and getting into trouble with my parents over how ‘careless’ I was! On Dad’s old LP player and tape deck I’d listen to Ravi Shankar’s Music Festival of India (I’ve been looking for a CD), Tchaikovsky…trying to dance like a swan in Swan Lake…imagining myself to be Odette. Reading my dad’s handwritten liner notes in red ink on old yellowing pieces of paper – romantic notions running in my head along with Swan Lake and Sleeping Beauty…the OST for the Love Story would have me singing the theme song along, it was practice since we’d learnt that song at school. And then there was the Rolling Stones, Dire Straits, Clapton, Chapman, even Clayderman….Lalgudi Jayaraman, Ananda Shankar, Chris Isaak, The Beegees, Nirvana, Denver & Smokie, Vivaldi, Lionel Richie, The Who, Chitti Babu, Pink Floyd, MC Hammer, Whitney Houston…on and on and on.

When the bigger louder speakers were off limits, I used a tape recorder in my room…it had a dial that could alter the tempo of the track and I used it for my dance practices. At nights, I’d plug in my headphones and listen till late at night…sometimes dancing in the dark. I was in love…with my music and my world and….you get the drift!

In Mysore I had no source. I went around scrounging in the few music stores looking for something and then spending all my pocket money on tapes. There was this chap called Ravi who had a library and he’d generously make mix tapes for me. Eventually I left sleep Mysore…and in college I discovered ghazals and hindi movie music, techno, the Gypsy Kings, electronica…stuff that kids were listening to in cities much bigger than sleepy Mysore. I started making my own mix tapes….

It was music that connected my now husband and me for the first time…the OST for Top Gun.

And then it just stopped….the music, the dance, everything. The long years in between were so bare…I did not know what happened anymore in the world of music. And now it seems silly that I did not turn to the one thing that always gave me comfort and focus.

But all’s well that ends well. I have found my bliss again. The past 4, 5 years have been so wonderful….because I found my music again. And the past 2 years have been simply awesome…coz now I can share my music with anyone who cares for it!! Who’d have thunk I’d be on radio….certainly not me!!
This is my idea of heaven on earth!!

Diwali Memories

2008-10-27T07:53:00.000-07:00

By now the firecrackers would have started going off. Irritatingly invasive at 5.00 in the morning, but irresistible at 6.00. Still in pajamas, snacking on chakli, with many summons to go have my head oiled, please bathe, please…pretty please…wear your new reshme langa, eat breakfast and leave the fruit alone, behave yourself…..sigh. I now think I could have put up with any amount of torture for a chance at the loudest, most obnoxious firecrackers.

I was one of the younger kids among nearly 50 plus cousins in my grandfather’s old house. Young, but certainly the boldest. The older cousins who knew what the latest firecrackers in the market were and the price tag they came at always pushed me forward to go ask my grandfather for Pataki-money. After refusing a sufficient number of times, I would relent and then go up to him. Ajja would be sitting on his ancient chair in his office, just off of the large verandah with the red and green floor, reading the newspaper. And I’d demand money. He’d say, “What? More money? To blow up in smoke? I just gave some to your XYZ brother last evening.” Of course, I’d stand my ground and of course I walked away with more than anyone ever could. One time he gave me 800 rupees…this was way back in 1987, when 800 rupees was a LOT of money for a bunch of kids. I now think Ajja thought I was special. I was the only one that refused to be afraid of him, and the only one who fooled around with him.

But my favorite part of Diwali was not the firecrackers, nor the food, nor the snacks and definitely not the endless poojas. It was when the old wrinkled Ayyannar (a priest) came by. The oldest daughters in law of the household would spread out a thick black woolen blanket on the floor of the verandah. The blanket was supposedly ancient, meant to represent the migration of my ancestors from the area near Badami in Karnataka further South. They were fleeing persecution by the invading Bahamani Kingdom that occupied the entire area. The migration supposedly brought a change in trade and the people started rearing livestock instead of farming and trading. This made since they were constantly moving. Hence the Kuruba or shepherding community. Going back to the blanket on the floor of the verandah, ancient heirlooms would then be placed carefully on the blanket. Very old silver, gold, brass, copper jewellery, utensils, implements, weapons…all kinds of interesting things that probably belong in a museum, would be placed. And the most precious of all – a hand made leather bound book. The Ayyannar’s main job was to ensure that records were updated. He’d open the family book, then his own book and make identical entries of all the births and deaths in the family and extended family in both the books. The family book, along with the heirlooms and blanket would go back into a large red and green vault which could only be accessed by Ajja.

Then one year we decided to go be with my Mother’s family. Diwali is not really celebrated in conservative Christian families in South India. My aunt would receive gifts of firecrackers at work which would be saved till Christmas. And when the whole city enjoyed a day off of Christmas day, the Christian families would come out with guns blazing and take revenge on the Diwali noise makers. No amount of pleading would get us firecrackers for Diwali!! And so Diwali was simply no fun with my other family!

Then there was that one Diwali that we spent in Mysore on the roof top of some friends, a bonfire, plenty of beer that I pour charmingly for guests, but could not drink because I was only 13 or 14. I got distracted by the bhoo-chakra and I forgot I had a lit pencil in my hand. I burnt my fingers for the first time that night.

I can never forget the first Diwali I spent alone in Chennai. I would ride through the neighborhoods at night just to see the oil lamps. I still feel tight in my chest when I think of that time. The loneliness the fireworks created in me was dispelled only by shutting it out with Chris Isaak on my walkman.

I remember that first Diwali I spent in Bangalore, watching my neighbor from my balcony as he lit fireworks. He eventually ran up my stairs and dragged me down and I gave in to the addictive smell of gunpowder and lit up a rocket after years. And then a few years later, this same neighbor and I were celebrating Diwali again. Only this time, we went to Hosur where we bought a big sack full of firecrackers. I made a fresh rangoli every night at our door and decorated it with oil lamps. I made all kinds of snacks and sweets. Our friends were our family at that time and most of them were away celebrating with their families in different towns. But they cut short their vacation to be with us…and we lit most of those fireworks a day after Diwali.

It’s impossible to recreate the innocence or joy of the days gone by. As I’ve grown older, I’ve also grown more aware that things are never going to be the same. Traditions are diluted to a mere formality. It’s now left to me to carry the memories and carry on my own brand of traditions. I am all grown up I guess…but I still miss the fireworks!

Diwali 2008
Sammamish
6.00 am

Jars of Memories

2008-10-27T06:17:00.000-07:00

Your smile warmed
the cold forgotten attic
where, sealed within an old
nameless earthen jar
I slept, with
untainted dreams and
innocent affections

At your touch the old pot
crumbled, I came alive
spilling soft kisses
rare and precious
fragments of passion
transposed into images
of euphoric bliss

I reached out to you
but you were gone
without a trace, gone
but in your place
there stood a mirror
on which was scribbled
this unfinished poem

Bangalore
January 2006

I remember

2008-10-25T22:14:00.001-07:00

I remember
the first time
you held me
captive
with eyes
brown, deep

I remember
that first time
you held me
the fragrance of
love that bloomed
at your throat

After all this time
I still remember
the first time
you loved me
the first time
you killed me

Oct 2007
I let everything sit around for about a year....what can I say! :-)

Thank God for Bumps and Bolts

2008-10-24T22:51:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I bumped my head
so hard, I thought it bled
I sat down rubbing a promising bulge
grimacing, griping, cursing
For good reason I thought of you
Striking and as sharp as the blow
If you were here, now, at this instant,
you would have cooed and soothed,
fretting and clucking, your tears
would have drenched my wound
attempting to wash away the pain
while I sniff at the throb, in vain
trying to childishly seem old(er)
you would have tried to comfort
silently, quietly, in your own strong way
and I would have brushed aside
your fingers, your concern, your love
callously, annoyed with myself
ashamed to be hurting
embarrassed to be weak
so self consumed would I be
that I would not have noticed
your eyes smarting
or your lip trembling
your fingers curling
or your head turning
Serves me right that yesterday
when I bumped my head
you were not there
that you might be spared from
my wrath, my shame, my impatience
I wipe away tears of regret
remembering not to be
as I am prone to be when…
someday I bump my head again
and you rush to comfort me
I now understand Ma
My folly, your patience
My ways and your ways
I pray that someday,
they will be the same
your way and mine

28 Sep 2007
Seattle - after an accident at the Ikea

Lost & Found!

2008-10-03T12:36:00.000-07:00

I am bursting with excitement!! I just had a long long conversation with my best friend from my PU college days...and its been nearly 12 years since I last spoke with her, saw her or heard anything about her.

My heart is so full....so full!! Its nice to know that you are remembered fondly. That you are not the only one who remembers people or events. And that there is someone who reciprocates with the same love and fondness. Most of my memories of my college are the many different ways I made a fool out of myself...the many places and ways I stood out like a sore thumb...and the many many things I did that were plain stupid, even inapproriate!

We've all grown up now and the childish things of the past dont really matter. I know that. But the embarrassment lingers on. I always thought I was a serious person, but I heard my best friend tell me that I laughed and giggled a lot. I also learnt that I had a huge crush on some guy and that everyone knew about it. Breakthru finally!! This does not embarrass me one bit! Its kinda sweet actually....! :-))

So, when I hear from an old friend and she confirms that I was not such a fool after all and that there were a few bright spots...it makes my heart glad. Makes me a little more sure of myself. Like I always say, go back to the people of your childhood and have them remind you of who you were before life had a crack at you. They will remind you of what you lost...and they will help you find it again.

I feel peaceful!

first prize....really?

2008-09-01T22:12:00.001-07:00

I just spent a good part of the evening helping a cousin with an essay for her college admissions. Its been such a long time since I wrote an actual essay....Won so many competitions in school...and then one huge competition in college.

There was a disctrict level inter-collegiate festival in Ooty. I took part in the essay writing contest. It had some random political theme and I remember writing furiously and being very tired at the end of the competition. I won the first prize for my essay....I was thrilled at my success. But then, the festival location was far away from my college and hostel. really far. And they made the announcements at the end of the festival, but then they said I must go back 2 weeks later to pick up my certificate and prize. Some of the others who won prizes went by or arranged for their certificates to be picked up. But for some reason, I never went to get them...I cant remember what happened. I do remember thinking that it did not matter. Silly huh!!

And look at me now...truly believing that every small success is worth celebrating.

random cribs

2008-08-30T13:57:00.000-07:00

Are memoirs exaggerated glories of childhood...? Do people truly have such idyllic childhoods as described in some books and movies?

I just finished reading Madhur Jaffrey's Climbing the Mango Trees: A memoir of a childhood in India. It was such a wonderful nostalgic read. But nearly everything seemed perfect....I am sure she had problems in her childhood, but the worst thing that Madhur mentions are typical teenage issues and some things that came up during the India-Pak partition. She was certainly privileged. The childhood she decribes is a far cry from what my grandparents had....she is about 5 years younger than my Grandma, so I do have something to compare her experiences with. I must say I felt a little envious when I read about how she had so many cousins from being in a joint family...her little adventures in and around her house....the fact that she had such fabulous heavenly food almost everyday and had a mango orchard in the backyard....definitely sounds like a slice of heaven. Hmmm mangos....I cant even remember how long it has been since I had a ripe, sweet raspuri from my grandfather's orhcards.

I have a hard time relating to such descriptions. I am an only child and I have spent my entire life coping to survive. And when I read about these beautiful childhoods, a part of me gets sad for having missed out on fun that actually is somebody else's experience and another part of me starts wondering if this description is true. The feeling gets even more intense when I watch all these darned desi movies with depictions of ideal families and joy and happiness that flow like the ganga. Those cliched scenes of mothers doting on sons and ramu/dinu/munshi kaka making baby's favorite halwa evoke a sense of loss in me.

And it does not end there. All my friends seem to have a great time with their families. I seem to be the only one who has serious issues with her family. The only one whose family is not always happy happy...taking trips and making halwa and laughing and joking. Its another thing that hubbs and I more than make up for our rather serious families. But still....these movies and books somehow set the expectations for you and they reinforce it movie after movie and book after book. Makes me want to have a large family....maybe I should have 7 or 8 children!!

Tuss Pataki!

2008-08-28T21:39:00.000-07:00

This week has been one of great speeches. While the Clintons (both) speeches annoyed me somewhat, Sen Obama more than made up for it. This man was incredible!! I just hope he delivers more than powerful speeches when he becomes President....err...because he just might!!

Anyway, I sat spell bound through the acceptance speech marvelling at sen Obama's oratorial skills. Of course, hubby dear was busy working while listening....so he mostly had his eyes on his laptop.

But when Sen Obama had finished, his family and friends joined him on the stage and the fireworks went off. My husband finished me off with "those fireworks look so lame" We laughed so hard!!

We might have been watching history in the making tonight....but those fireworks just could not keep up with the Chinese!! Dang!! They just spoiled all the fireworks fun for the rest of world!! Imagine Diwali, the 4th of July. Everything is going to fall flat, because all those people who Tivoed the opening and closing ceremonies will be watching them year after year....nothing is going to satisfy the fireworks fanatic anymore!! Double Dang!!

Raghu Dixit - About the album

2008-03-24T23:51:00.000-07:00

Disclaimer - This is not an objective review. It is my very subjective observation.

The album in question is Vishal & Shekar presents Raghu Dixit
The Artist – Raghu Dixit
The Band - The Raghu Dixit Project or RDP for short.

Enough has been said about the fact that it is Vishal & Shekar’s first album as a record label. Much more has been said about the Bollywood endorsement RDP has received. Btw, RDP is all over MTV India, which is great. And you can now hear RDP on KBCS - 91.3 FM if you are in the Seattle area or on the station website if you are in any other part of the world.
Shows most likely to be heard in:
Spice Route – Wed 2100-2300 PDT (which yours truly DJs every other week)
Daily Planet – Weekdays 1500 – 1700 PDT

Personally, I have enjoyed Raghu’s music from the time I first heard it. At that time, it was a welcome relief. Honestly RDP sounded too good to be true. It took me all of a day to believe that as an artist, Raghu was completely committed to creating his own style and niche.

For close to a decade, Raghu has performed in every major university, college, corporate house and music lounge in India. He has been interviewed on India’s national television and prominent magazines. The urban youth of the country has followed the trail Raghu has blazed and helped build momentum for the band and the brand. After all these years of toil and tears, promises and rejections, the album is finally a reality. And with the realization of his decade long dream, Raghu has become the poster boy of sorts for all those young Indian rock-star aspirants who perform at every given opportunity with a hairbrush for a microphone, head banging interrupted only by stellar air guitar work. But don’t be fooled. RDP is not just another rock band basking in its 15 minutes of fame, wearing itself out on one authentic set. This lungi wearing, anklet jangling, largely loved band might just have given a new dimension to the Indian music industry as a whole.

In India, the majority of people have no exposure or inclination towards musical styles other than Bollywood, traditional or classical music. For this vast majority, RDP opens an entire new world of sounds and possibilities. And the reason Raghu’s style works so well in this segment is because he makes the songs accessible and understandable. There is no over intellectualization or snobbishness in lyrics, music, delivery or the artist himself. He sings in all the languages he knows and if he learns a new one, he’ll probably sing in that language as well. For those people who are exposed to various music styles from around the world, there is sense of recognition and awe with each song. Raghu has perfectly described his style of music as ‘a seamless amalgamation of Indian ethnic music and sounds from around the world’. He calls the genre Indo-World-Folk-Rock. I believe it’s just a matter of time before more genres get strung to this existing set. As of now, I detect blues, jazz, Carnatic, dub, reggae…it is futile to put a check box in front of such music.

The poetry makes my heart swell with emotion and pride. There is the timeless poetry of Sishunala Sharief filled with ancient wisdom and wit. I have heard many people sing Sharief’s songs but the compositions and tunes have always been untouched over the decades. I suppose, no one wanted to even try and make them sound different. And then I heard Raghu’s version of Sorutihudu Maneya Maalige. When juxtaposed, the older and newer versions are completely different in style and intensity. Of course, I prefer Raghu’s version. Then there are younger contemporary poets such as Neeraj Singh and Aditya Dhar who write simple, attractive verses relevant to this day and generation. Raghu has found a way to not only bring together different sounds from around the world, but also balance the older and newer literatures. In doing so, he has started bridging the musical generation gap of India. The older people no longer consider all young artists as riff-raff and the younger people don’t crinkle their nose at older literature or wisdom. Raghu now has an assured audience from across all generations and sub cultures. Very smart indeed!!

And of course, his booming voice is unlike anything you have heard before. There is certain clarity and openness that takes you by surprise and holds your interest track after track. There are very few self trained musicians who can hold a note the way he does. His singing style has mellowed and matured over the years. But the intense organic emotion still takes me by surprise every now and then.

The band compliments Raghu’s music beautifully. I understand that as a band they are open to experimenting with new sounds and liaising with other artists from around the world. What a novel idea!!
Band members/ regular contributors–Gaurav Vaz, Anirban Chakravarthy, Darbuka Siva, Bruce Lee Mani, Vijay Joseph, Jithin Das, Sandeep, Keith Peters, Josy John, Manoj George, Dharma, Prakash Sontakke, Abhijeet, Rahool, Rzhude, Navin Iyer, Balaji, Bhavani Shankar and the loyal Bandappa. I think this list will keep growing over time.

About the album itself - the first thing that struck me was the album art. It’s a nice chunky booklet in an earthy shade of red. The album cover has a painted portrait of Raghu with guitar in hand. Bangalore based artist Manjunatha has done a fabulous job capturing all the intricate details down to the individual hairstyles of the band members and the necklace that Raghu wears at his concerts, in the traditional and tedious Indian miniature style of art. Apart from the paintings there are some very beautiful photographs from concerts as well as photo shoots in rural India. The concept and design is by Vasu Dixit, Raghu’s brother and a musician himself. The album art is an authentic representation of the music and the band. A lot of thought has been put into the details and it is all very charming indeed.

As a DJ, one of my nightmares is to flip open a CD jacket and find that there is no liner notes inside. This is particularly true of CDs that are from South Asia. CDS often come with no more that the track listing. At best you will find a booklet with lyrics or photographs. Usually, I am looking up the internet for album and track information seconds before I go on air and it’s not the most pleasant experience. While this album’s booklet has lovely pictures and paintings which I enjoy, I wish there was a little more information about each track. There are Hindi and English lyrics but there are no translations. Exceptions are the two Shishunala Sharief songs, with lyrics in Kannada, English and the translation as well.

The last page has Raghu’s thank you notes. It’s been a while since I enjoyed reading credits so much. His sense of humor and graciousness are apparent in those few lines.

Albeit, I think it is well worth applauding Raghu Dixit - the artist, the man, the album and his vision for RDP as a band.

There are several well written reviews I’d like to point out. Split Magazine’s Anand Varghese has done considerable justice. As has Vidya Pradhan of Water, No Ice. So, please take the time to read and then listen to the music If you like the artist and band, support them by buying their album. They are easier to find on the Indian market but will soon be available for sale in the US on www.CDbaby.com

Spring

2008-03-23T01:13:00.000-07:00

When the world lies dreamless
Floating in a timeless abyss
Pushing through rock and gravel
Inching upward they travel
Little forgotten miracles
Hyacinths, tulips, daffodils
Breaking the ground with life anew
Heralding beginnings in every hue

The Raghu Dixit Project.....

2008-03-07T14:32:00.002-08:00

Woohoo!! Finally...here it is. I have to credit this event for drawing me out of my self imposed hiatus and tend to my much neglected blog.

I have to share this with you. Take a listen to Raghu's music. After many years of blood, sweat and tears his first album has finally been released....and endorsed by the baadshahs and belles of bollywood . But honestly, the music is wonderful... His myspace page has samples...listen and order a copy of his CD.
The band blog

I am awaiting my first copy....and looking forward to introducing his voice to the airwaves of Seattle. :-)

Searching for you

2008-03-07T13:56:00.000-08:00

I strolled around taking pictures
with shaky restless fingers
trying to smother this new sight
with the crisp memories & old delight
when a man came by with a hop
from the nearby tea shop
bursting eagerly with questions
about possible transactions

“Do you work for the paper?”
“Will you buy this house?”
I spoke your name in reply
part question, part answer
he pondered and frowned
making the right sound
but he’d not heard of you
your name he never knew

This old house

2006-11-15T11:30:00.000-08:00

Jan 2006 - Pictures and Poem

I went by your house looking for you
Searching for a remnant of us
I expected to see smiles and tears
I thought of the questions and fears
I even expected accusations and jeers
But you were gone, you had moved on
You had faded even from the nameplate
That used to decorate your broken gate

The steps on which we sat and dreamt
Laughed back at me in bitter contempt
Tormenting, willing me to go back in time
to take a peek at this moment in its prime
A sepia picture of you bouncing out
A guitar, a grin and arms stretched out
I waved back, felt it was going to be okay,
But into distempered oblivion, you faded away

I went by your house looking for you
Searching for a remnant of us
All that’s left is a decrepit old carcass
of childhood stories and what once used to be us.
A broken castle with a lock old and rusty
Guarding scattered memories old and dusty
I came by your house looking for you
You are gone. You have moved on.

Frozen!!

2006-11-15T10:47:00.000-08:00

My last post was on 15 of August, 2006. Exactly 3 months ago.

I’ve comeback to my blog several times and I’ve sat in front of it for what always seems like several hours, just staring at the computer screen, wondering how to write. Its not that I find my mind emptied of content, just that I cannot bring myself to start committing my thoughts. Every sentence I want to type asks me the same question – What are you going to accomplish with me out there in the great world of sentences, vain and righteous? Will I touch someone’s life today and impact them, perhaps propel them towards some good? Will I be part of someone’s destiny? Am I the best that you can bring from within yourself? Am I the best representation of who you were or what you are? Do you really like me enough to represent you?

If I were to put it more simply, I find it hard to write something frivolous anymore. If it’s a piece of writing, then it has to be toward something, what’s the word…constructive?

I can write about my vacations or what I am doing now or any such thing….but what’s the point? The people who need to know are informed and those who read such things on a blog don’t really need to know what I am upto anyway. And then I can share my opinions….and accomplish what? Almost every blog site I used to write in or every group of people that I used to interact with have the same sort of issues. People argue endlessly and needlessly about things that don’t really make any sort of difference to anyone….unless it’s a momentary difference. So I’d only feel worse if I added more clutter and ended up making people snap and bite instead of ponder and respect, no?

I often wonder if it’s this strong thought is what should propel me towards writing more seriously – perhaps for a publication or something I can publish. But the co-ordinates seem off in my spirit. I am not talking about planets aligning and such, just that I don’t fell right about it in my gut. After all this time, after all the walking and progress, I still see that my fundamental questions are unanswered. Everything I do is a distraction from the gnawing question – what is the true purpose of my life?

I have almost 60 pieces of writing in various stages sitting in my computer. Some have been finished for close to a year now…but I hesitate. All I can do is sit here, in front of my screen, paralyzed and wondering. Frozen!!

Independence!!!

2006-08-15T00:11:00.000-07:00


National Anthem of India

During the 4th of July, someone stuck little American flags in everyone’s lawn; I let them be…they are still in some part of my yard. But, I don’t have the Indian flag flying in my yard. I have never drawn Rangolis or written messages on Independence Day. In fact, I have never been one to call myself patriotic. When I think of it, I guess I never really paid it much attention. I did not even engage in arguments about the state of our independent country. But this I know!! I have always loved my country.…

It seems like some old sentimental streak in me is getting more and more persistent. I started looking for videos and pictures of India. While on the net I noticed junta calling Jana Gana Mana the National Song of India…when did it become a song?? It’s the National Anthem for goodness’s sake!! An Anthem is very different from a song…Anyway, I found a few videos that I am celebrating this Independence Day with. Its 5 minutes to midnight and I am listening to Pandit Nehru’s ‘A Tryst with Destiny’ speech. And I am reminded of how the only time I liked wore flowers in my hair to school was during Independence Day – I made sure I wore Jasmine strung with very few orange flowers and green leaves. I suppose that does qualify for patriotism…

I don’t say it often enough…but I am so thankful to have the independence we do.
Happy Independence Day!!

The Speech -

http://www.harappa.com/sounds/nehru.html

http://www.fordham.edu/halsall/mod/1947nehru1.html

Oh what a year!!

2006-06-27T23:52:00.000-07:00

I can’t remember when last I checked my blog or the associated mail ids. But I am overwhelmed by the number of comments/mails asking after me, wondering where I was etc. Thanks my friends!! I had no doubt that I was charming…but this loved!! Sniff sniff in joy!!

My hiatus has been eventful. Well, today is an event in itself. I turn 29 on the 28. The last year was the once in a life time 28 on 28th event!! Well…I feel it’s special to turn 29 on 28th…my birthday is always special to me. It makes me look back on my life and I always feel so grateful toward God not just for my life, but for all the people in my life, my family, friends, the twists and turns, the interesting lessons, the pain, the sorrow, the lack, the disappointments, the achievements, successes and victories, heck even the quiescence that I sometimes choose to call boredom. It’s all wonderful!! My life is wonderful!!

So what has happened in the past year of my life… the last 6 months specifically?

I traveled to India. Wow that was an awesome trip!! Meeting all the bloggers in Bangalore was one of the highlights of my trip. It was more than just putting faces to handles and names. It gave me an opportunity to understand relationships, myself, people and the beauty in them better. There are many many fun things we did…and no, I won’t write about them all here. I don’t know if I do want write everything…

India…Ah India!! What amazing things I did this time. I drove 800 Kms in 3 days with my parents. Stopping in over 6 different towns/cities, spending time with family and some old friends. I drove…by myself…and enjoyed it too. Mom and I drove down to Mysore, and met some of our oldest and dearest friends. People I have not seen since I last left Mysore in 1994. That was an emotionally overwhelming trip.

I managed to find some long lost friends. A childhood friend that I have not seen in 13 years. That was such a wonderful thing…The other was my best buddy in college. We parted ways after college and went separate ways. He was always on my mind but I did not know where to look for him. Eventually, I did track him down…That was so cool!! I also met my ex-boss in the airport on my way to Seattle…he was flying to SFO…I must write about this later on!!
I went down to my school in Mysore….Oh boy!! I will write about too that later…

I met the Bay area bloggers…that was fun too. We met up at a really nice restaurant for dinner…SSM, Peppo, Aditi and moi-self. We had spent the day at Berkeley and my family dropped me off for dinner near the restaurant and decided to grab a bit themselves in another restaurant. Then they walked around the area trying to stay close to where I was, while browsing the shops etc, and went past the restaurant a couple of times. They did not really see me, but my niece missed me so much that when she spotted me she ran up to the glass and tapped on it (we had a table by the street) Digressing, but remember that adorable scene from ‘A Perfect Day’ with Michelle Pfeiffer and George Clooney? Well she did not blow fish faces at me and I was looking away when she did come and tap the glass. Peppo got a good scare and we spoke about how kids could run around like that and what that was all about. Since I did not see the kid, I had no idea that this was my kid!! ...later on when we stepped out to go get some coffee and dessert, my niece spotted me again and ran towards me. Well…My family was embarrassed that they intruded on my time out with friends…but it was ok!! I can never forget the look on Peppy’s face!! Oh boy…that was totally worth it!!

I threw my husband a surprise birthday party. I managed to keep it a surprise…it took a lot of work; friends pitched in helped to keep him away on the day of the party. Poor guys, they went to play a game of golf, the weather turned out to be miserable…they played in the rain and sleet, finally gave up when the clubs started flying out of their hands, eventually they gave up and ended up playing board games at a friend’s house. But that was an awesome party. I managed to fit 30 of out closest friends in my small living room, and cook for all 30 of them. The orange cake with the orange curd glaze was a major hit; my almond cake was finished in minutes…as was the paneer tikka, the grilled shrimp, chicken samosas and veg puffs. I had also made rosemary pita chips, and some drinks as well…It was supposed to be a tea and cake party. It was a lot of planning…but it was totally worth the trouble!! Hubby dear was wowed and speechless for days.
After having lived in this country for over 3 years I finally got myself a driver’s permit!
I bought me a cool car…well an SUV actually! A Suzuki XL7 that I am enjoying thoroughly. I will not crib about the gas prices!!(so help me God!) I constantly fill the car with soil, mulch, plants and such things…It has a great sound system which I am enjoying very much!

I decided to give in to my darling dentist and finally went in for a check up. I have a phobia towards dentists. The more time they spend fixing my teeth, the more scared I am of them!!

I have grown a garden – I am still landscaping my back and front yard. It’s a lot of back breaking work…there is still a lot more to do. But I am determined to do it myself instead of hiring someone to do it…It makes the whole experience memorable. For instance the 375 lb sod cutting machine that my hubbs had to maneuver to remove some grass. More on that later...

I will be having another little niece in a few months!! That is just great!! We can now have our own little girlie gang in the family. Of course that means the pressure on us has quadrupled!!

It seems like I have given my camera a rest - temporarily!! This season on my life seems to have a lot of things packed in.

This will be my last year in the 20’s….the next year I turn 30 and my dad turns 60. I suddenly realized this the other day. It was humbling when I thought about how much more experienced and wise my father is than me…and how little credit I have given him. How much more he has to offer and how little I am willing to take.

This will be a good year….I know so!! I feel at peace with life, with myself and with my Maker….inspite of all the fears and doubts, I feel peace!!

Perhaps some I can say like Sinatra…

And now I think of my life as vintage wine

from fine old kegs
from the brim to the dregs
and it poured sweet and clear

It will be a very good year!! I know so!!

So much to tell

2006-02-17T09:36:00.000-08:00

I have so much to tell you
I don’t know how
I’ve brought stories anew
But I can’t speak now

Sweet effervescent desires
Bubble forth like a creek
Shades of crimson passion
Leave marks upon my cheek

I fumble and falter
While you coax and cajole
I stutter and mutter
Yet my heart feels whole

I have so much to tell you
I don’t know how
I have so much to tell you
But I can’t speak now

The Perfect Lover

2006-02-13T17:56:00.000-08:00

Meme for the moment - "8 qualities I want in a perfect lover"

First of all it is extremely cruel to ask happily married people to make up such lists. We (we insist) are happy with what we have, regardless of whether it is on the list or not. Those that are not happy are in the process of becoming happy. On the other hand, it causes us to revisit some of our ideas and notions about ‘the perfect partner’ as well as reevaluate our relationship/marriage. So I don’t mind writing this meme, although I must admit making this list was easy. But I had to be careful not to make this list too perfect, coz then I’d be subject to the perfection test and fail miserably!!

I got tagged several days ago…and I honestly forgot to write it up. Sorry Shpriya for the delay…but here goes.

1. If he cannot converse he cannot hold my interest. Must be able to make meaningful conversation. If we stop talking the romance is dying…

2. Can be as much of a guy (scratching, belching, chest thumping included) as he wants. I have no problem with him being who he is. In fact I’ll join him when he ogles at girls and even point out the few that he misses, engage in occasional belching contests and do as many guy things as I can. But when the time and place requires, he must be polished, suave and sexy!!

3. I want a man not a child and I don’t want a toy either. He must have a mind of his own and be able to think for himself. No room for imposition here, we are partners….and we are both allowed to make as many mistakes as it takes.

4. A great sense of humour, one that is not exclusively dependent on dirty stuff. If he cannot make me laugh I will forget to laugh and that will be a bad thing for this world. It is my man’s job to keep me entertained and vice versa. Either ways a lot of laughter is a must!!

5. Adventurous spirited chap. He has to be an outdoorsy kind of a guy, given to traveling, sports (since I know nothing of sports) and someone who will try most things that are new. Won’t include eating worms and things like that, but he must be able to bring in something new as I will.

6. Needless to say has to be well dressed and smell good and clean. Must have a sense of fashion…Goodness, I can’t think of being with a Govinda wannabe!! Or a garbage truck for that matter!!

7. He has to be passionate about life but balanced. Must be ambitious, energetic and driven but should also know how to kick back and smell the roses and violets and be spontaneous. Must have chutzpah!!

8. Books, music, good wine and good food, romance, chivalry, good taste, same wavelength, tuned to the inner me, quick to forgive and quicker to apologize etc etc…those go without saying, but hey, I’ll say it for the record anyway!!

To sum it up, James Bond will do!! But then what will I do with someone that’s that perfect? Everything will be so precisely tailored that I’d get bored. If he is perfect then I am expected to be perfect…so no thank you!! Besides, the moment we are perfect we die. Imperfection is what keeps us here on earth and connected to other imperfect souls.

And when I actually think about it, I have a better deal than I imagined. He gets 8 on 8 from my list!!

Heck I have someone even better than James the Bond!!

Am tagging - Vivek, Bharat, Nachi, Inter and Fizo

Tag Attack...7...?

2006-02-09T14:52:00.000-08:00

Man I got tagged!! And I shall have my revenge...muahhahhaaa!!

7 things I wish to do before I die

1.Live in Africa, Europe, South America and Australia for short durations of my life (yeah that’s most of the continents on the planet)
2.Own a boat and learn to sail (and fly as well…the tag says 7)
3.Start restaurants, many different kinds of restaurants in many different places.
4.Learn pottery (I’d add scuba diving, bungee jumping, sky diving, being in a rally, snowboarding and a whole bunch of other things…but again the tag says only 7)
5.Study more…a lot more.
6.Write one book and follow it with many books (don’t we all want that??)
7.Live one full day knowing that my life is complete and that I have fulfilled my purpose on earth. (a moment is not enough to bask in such divine knowledge) then I am ready to die!!

7 things I do not enjoy:

1.Being around obnoxiously loud and vulgar people or those that use a lot of cuss words needlessly.
2.Pretending (yeah I do it sometimes to get by) or tolerating pretense when subject to it.
3.Heavy Metal, Hard Rock and all its variants…acid, punk…blah!
4.Conversations where people say ‘like’ and ‘I don’t know’ excessively.
5.Getting up early in the morning.
6.Arguments with people I least expect to argue with.
7.Uncomfortable silences…not having anything to speak about.

7 things that attracted me to Blogging

1.I could write and share it without baggage and junk. I feel safe with my thoughts because I know there are others that think like me.
2.I get to witness amazing snapshots of people and their lives, stories and opinions and be a part of their life. The interaction is awesome!!
3.The blogososphere connects us all inexplicably. I love that!! The sense of déjà vu when you read something or know that someone across the world you never ever met is going thro the exact same thing at the exact same moment, or that they hold an answer to your question or vice versa. The entire 6 degrees of separation thing….I just love that!!
4.What I could learn….I find that addictive. There is tremendous wisdom to be gained…if we want it.
5.The possibility of new relationships, friendships beyond the comments and chats.
6.Blogging is a good way to channel my energy and restlessness. I sometimes have too much of both.
7.An effective way for me to chronicle my life and store memories. There are so many….and I want to remember everything.

7 things I say most often

1.Cool, neat, nice, awesome, wonderful…(depending on the season and various such peculiar aspects)
2.Correct, right
3.Thank You
4.Brilliant
5.Oh Man!!
6.For Goodness sake!!
7.Can you believe that!!
8.Bonus – When in India – Dear Lord, please help me find a parking spot…

7 Books I like (just 7 eh?)

1.The Bible (dont get spooked please!! I am normal!)
2.Crime and Punishment
3.Oliver Twist
4.Pride and Prejudice (actually all of Jane Austen)
5.To the Lighthouse
6.DHL (everything I have read that is)
7.Tintin and Asterix comics

7 Movies I want to watch (and have watched) again and again (Just 7..oh this is cruel!!)

1.Lawrence of Arabia
2.Gone with the Wind
3.The Apu trilogy, particularly Pather Panchali
4.Citizen Kane
5.Love Story (so not the Hindi one)
6.Before Sunset

7.Any movie that catches my fancy

7 pieces of Music I enjoy (just 7…this is really bad!! There are just too many genres and too many pieces. I’ll try, but…)

1.Tchaikovsky – Swan Lake
2.Handel – Messiah
3.Pancharatna Kritis – (particularly Jagadaananda karaka and Sadinchane O Manasa)
4.Jazz –for goodness sake, don’t ask for a single piece now!!
5.Fazal Qureshi and Shankar Mahadevan’s Tea Break – the whole darned album
6.Rabbi Shergill – Ishtihar from Bulla ki Jaana
7.Raghu Dixit – his rendition of Shishunala Sharifas’s songs – not yet released…look out for it

7 people I am tagging (muahhahhahaa!!)

1.Dooka

2.Doc Das

3.Vivek

4.Punds

5.Ano

6.Nithya

7.Parik/IW

RD Memories

2006-01-26T22:33:00.000-08:00

The date was 2nd Jan 2006.

The moment I drove past the big old Jacaranda tree with maroon and white stripes around its knotted midriff, I knew it. The tree has been standing strong for years, watching the years roll into decades, caching memories in its rings.

I wonder if the tree remembers a young gal running past it twice a day everyday for one whole year. She’d stop by the tree without fail, clutching her throbbing stomach while drawing loud raspy breaths of cold air into her heated lungs, squinting past the knotted trunk up towards the branches to see if there were flowers. She knew if there’d be flowers or not, but looked anyway. And all the while she’d count in her mind – 9, 10, 11…until one other girl ran past her. Then she’d reluctantly and silently bid adieu to the tree and start running again till she reached the designated post, to turn around and outrun the other girl. She never stopped by the tree on her way back.

I don’t know if the tree remembers me. But I remember everything…almost.

I remember how I loved the march-past at School. I absolutely loved being all stiff and angry looking, feeling important and patriotic, saluting Rev Fr D’Mello and Mrs Lobo, trying not to see the funny faces that the other girls from my class we pulling at me. My PT Master had selected just 3 girls from my class for the parade; the other girls were from the higher classes. I was so proud to be part of the team that I did not mind that I sometimes had to go to school a half an hour early or stay back late for practices. Come July, we’d start practice for the Independence Day march-past and come November we’d start practice for the Republic Day march-past. Republic Day was always more special, There were more activities, dances and such. The parade itself was longer and different, the band was bigger and we got motichur laddus instead of boring barfi. Once back at home, I’d watch the RD parade on TV wondering what fun the kids there might be having.

When in college I joined NCC. The first year was boring with identical drills and a camp with trenches for toilets, but the second year was an entirely different thing. Every morning my dad would drop me at this huge old bungalow at 5.00 am in the biting cold.

We were about 50 young girls and we had to run 6 kms every morning. We were timed every single day and each day missed was recorded, so you could not fall sick. Or you fell sick but still ran…like I did. My dad would time me as well, just to stay busy during the 45 minutes we were gone. Once back from the run/race we’d have drill practice.

Now when I look back its amazing that I even wanted to run like that. I cannot believe that I went through so much physical pain just to be part of the RD parade.

I never made it through the selections for the coveted RD parade inspite of being the first at that final selection race. Maybe I was lacking in some other important aspect …I always found those rifles too heavy to run with and could never get up fast enough with all the funny gear. The good thing is that I was not too disappointed. My dad was relieved because he did not have to deal with early mornings anymore and had just my late evening dance practices to endure.

It’s been many years since all this happened. It’s been many years since I watched the parade on TV. This year we called family back home. I forgot to ask, but I am sure Ma hoisted the Flag at her college and dad at his….

I feel like some Motichur laddu…Oh and a Happy belated Republic Day!!

A few days ago while still in India I saw this on CNN-IBN. http://www.ibnlive.com/article.php?id=3497&section_id=3 (watch the video as well)

Homeward Bound

2005-11-23T11:40:00.000-08:00

Nov 15th 2005

The ultimate late latif that I am, I ran towards the train when there was 5 minutes left for departure and no seats that could be found easily. Jam packed, the train slowly pulled out of ‘Majestic’…to slowly reveal the city that my home is around the outskirts. Filth filled, steeped in poverty, sheltering crime both big and small, guarding secrets and stories, untouched by the wealth that was right above it, shack after shack, drain after drain, settlement after settlement they passed by. Like the filthy rags covering an old jewel, the moving train removed all the things that make Bangalore the city she has become. I was surprised at how quickly my heartbeat dropped to a more normal pace as soon as we were outside the city. It felt like the beginning of life as I have known in India, sanity that I truly appreciate!!

The earth continues to be red and fiery at some places and unforgiving and dry at other places. Puddles were aplenty, lakes were full, all thanks to the unrelenting rains. The coconut plantations looked fuller and healthier. I hear the disease that wiped out plantations together is now almost gone. When I was younger one could not spot an areca tree near Bangalore. This time around, there were a few plantations far away from where they belong. The lush green fronds of the Areca trees tugged so strongly at my heart that the cords to a purse full of tears came undone. After being in the country for almost 2 weeks, I finally felt like I was home. Amazing!! The memories that I least treasured are those that are the strongest!!

I simply had to have a cup of railway ‘Kaaffey’. The child in the seat beside split his hot coffee on his lap, I instinctively tightened the grip on my paper cup. My butter fingers have burnt me quite a few times when I was a kid. The light brown watery concoction they call coffee is actually better than it used to be. The maddur vada that went with it was perfect. Railway snacking at its best!!

The lady opposite me wanted to sit in 2 seats instead of one, until someone bullied her right out of her selfishness, grudgingly though. After muttering under her breath for a few minutes her attention turned towards me. Where am I going? Do I live there? Do I work elsewhere? Why do I have a mangalsutra on my neck, but no bindi? What does my husband do? I looked out the window at the dogs barking and chasing the train. After a barrage of unanswered questions, finally the important one – whose family do I belong to in my hometown? That one I answered quickly and was never bothered again. This was the first of many times in this trip, that I was thankful for belonging to a certain family.

I usually don’t converse with people in trains. I keep to myself and my book, alas I had forgotten mine. The person next to me was only too happy that I was not exactly engaged in anything, so he turned on some movie on his mobile, half sharing it with me, perhaps hoping that I would lean over. Then he made a loud call on his mobile phone and mentioned words like ‘bhai’ and ‘khokha’. Mercifully another girl came and sat between us. At some point we all started conversing. Between the stream of blind and crippled beggars, to those that hand out cards with stories and pictures on them and then come again to collect money, the cups of coffee and packets of kurkure, I learnt that the man was Muslim, married to a Gujrati Jain, living in Mumbai and his family of 4 kids and wife were in another town. The girl next to me apparently has some physical ailment and suffers from the belief that she is not pretty. I told her I thought she was pretty. I don’t know if she heard me loud enough.

Halfway through, we were supposed to change trains. I learnt that some relatives were sitting right behind me and that they knew I was sitting there, but did not to speak with me, perhaps because the train was so crowded. Blessings of blessings they informed me that their son is also in Seattle and they will be visiting him about the same time I leave for home and hearth. Wondering about why they did not speak with me, I continued the journey with them. We made new conversation and caught up after what must have been a decade.

It was already dark when I arrived. My cousins were thrilled to see me, as were the many aunties and uncles. My nieces and nephews were overjoyed, shy and eager all at once. (my oldest niece is just 4 years younger than me!!) A quick cup of coffee and out came the Mehendi cones. Accusations about having ditched everyone for Mehendi and decorated my hands and feet got louder and louder along with demands for patterns on hands. I had gotten my hands and feet Hennaed a day before and was all set for the wedding. The Mehendi process went on for 3 or 4 hours and all my cousins and bhabhis/athiges and nieces and nephews were all satisfied.

When I finally hit the sack that night, it was well past bed time. But all that I could manage were tears…No fun is fun when your soul mate is not with you.

More later….

(The day is the 24th Nov, time is 1.15 am and it continues to rain outside. It might as well be Seattle!! Net connection here is pathetic, so please bear with me regarding replies and mails. Delays are unavoidable!!)

Bengalooru Bloggers - An introduction to Ananthu

2006-01-24T01:24:00.000-08:00

After the initial 20 day euphoria of family and extended family, a very wonderful wedding (pictures of which you shall see later), I was suddenly left alone. Both mum and dad were at their respective colleges, I have no siblings to bicker and bond with and I was done with food and sleep. It almost seemed impossible!! How was I going to fill every day of the next 2 months of my stay in India with 12 hours with activities ? The activities had to be interesting too. But man was I worrying over nothing!!

The absolute first blogger I met was….(tatta da daa da ta daa da ta da – in the background plays the theme from Rocky)….ANANTHU. No prizes for guessing that!! So, here I was in the general area that he works in, running a few annoying errands and it happened to be lunch time and I was starving. We decided I’d park at his office and so that’s where we met - at the great big gate to his office building. He seemed to be completely at ease, he'd done this many times before with other people. Although I bet he was praying like mad that I was not this crazed junkie high on something other than coffee that was going to chop him up into tiny pieces and feed them to the goats right after lunch. Me…? Well I was more concerned about him. He was going to end up in pieces after all… ;-)

So he took me to this nice looking ‘new’ restaurant with sparkly lights and Italian marble flooring. As soon as we settled in, I mentioned to Ananthu this other restaurant in the same area that hubbs and I used to frequent years ago. He agreed they make great Oota (food). So, without wasting another hungry moment the two of us slid out of our seats and headed towards the noisier, more crowded, un-fancy Andhra style restaurant that serves amazing banana leaf food. (Sorry Ananthu, I still don’t remember the name of the ‘joint’, you will have to provide that) On the way there, Ananthu very nonchalantly said, “I actually thought of that place, but then thought you might not like it. I thought I’d take you to a more decent looking place at least the first time we met”. (gaaaawd, I feel deeply for the girls of Bengalooru!! He has every idea to impress them ladies minto-phress ishtyle, I am certain. Bechaari kudiyaan!!)

So we talked and joked and mentioned many times that we had to meet again and have a DSS meet as well. When back at the parking lot, Ananthu took me around to show me his new bike. And he could not find it because there were some 50 similar bikes in the same row. So after hunting it down, he eventually showed me the cool wheels and we discussed biking and such things and eventually focused on the uncomfortable looking seat. I asked if the pillion rider would be safe and Ananthu said, “who cares!” Double dang!! There went my hopes of a fun bike ride around the city with Ananthu! Apparently bikes like Ananthu’s are called bachelor bikes….I will let you draw your own conclusions about this, but just to point you in the right direction of my thoughts I will say that the term ‘Bachelor Bike’ has less to do with comfort for the pillion rider and more to do with the sudden brakes that the rider applies…..yeah you thought right!! Well, this is the age to play right??

After the vaahan darshan I quickly took down the mobile numbers of the other cool Bengalooru Bloggers and touched base with a few of them right there. I now recollect Pradz had a score to settle with Ananthu that first time I spoke with him…wonder if that was sorted out….Now that I have ‘bathhi hachhi-fied’ (lit the wick….hopefully to a new bomb…its a Kannada expression), my job for the first report is done…

There is still a lot more to say,
but for now ashte!! (ashte = That’s all/That’s it.)
Same time, some other day!!
Nimma preethiya Chay (Your loving Chay…. don’t gag on the corny stuff please!! Try and smile instead....) :-)