This Tattle About News

So it goes, I have started exercising! This itself is ground breaking to start talking.. Err, writing. You remember the Gorilla dancing Gif (comparing it to a parent) that was being circulated online recently? That was the feeling I got after Baby E started his school. Don’t ask me the working hours. It’s all but 2 hours with eating, praying, reading, playing and if time permits learning. So the jubilant I, wanted to utilise it to the fullest. Yes, I am dealing with the fullest parts of the body first! As the numerous office goers struggle the streets to reach the office on time. Somewhere amongst them you find the elated short and wide female with squeaky sketchers rushing to the local green hub.

 I am totally changed now, (No fat shedding has not happened yet), since three days I didn’t touch the Newspaper! The social media is kind enough to get me the news at my window but just because I was reminded I glanced through it today. It’s the same story, Modi makes me weep and Rahul makes me Sleep. What choice do we have? Kejriwal, shows not much promise after getting slapped so many times. Come on! Women have moved on from tampons and going to Eco-cups! We are still thinking how to stop our country from leaking. Agreed pun is bad here but Salman did manage all that applaud and fan fare for his poor fun flick even after his sexist remarks. Recent I hear is Remembrance placard for his dead doggies. What about those footpath men who died (700meters away from his Doggy love) when he drove his machine down on them? Yes, we don’t talk about dead where the living roams in distress. 

Burhan, IS or the numerous mass killings all makes me uneasy. I don’t want to pick up the paper and read. Read about all that pain.  Not right to shun away from what’s happening in real world, right? Here again what choice do I have? I am not even mentioning the pain of the common man with the dips of Rupee and the highs of the fuel and food prices. Believe me my walks in this conservative neighbourhood is full of overbearing discussions of rising spinach prices. Yet, I have found a group of fellow walkers who cheer for Kabali on the walkway. Somewhere a moment of ecstatic happiness brings a smile to the worrying aunties too.

Do your small bit everyday to breathe and let nature breathe. Try to spread happiness so much so that somebody gets infected by you. And as I always say Live and Let Live.

The Know-All Edge

I believe myself to be a born traveller, one who receives peace from the sojourn as and when it happens. I was in my last year of Graduation and concentrating on my future education. I had managed to get through NIFT, New Delhi and was called for the final round on 5^th Jan. But all I wanted was the Mass communication course in Pune. One evening, I was taken aback by an almost faded text on a telegram that said ‘You are selected for the Mass Com. Course’, which required me in the capital city.

So here I was packing my bags amidst the chirpy chicks of the hostel. Some had landed in my room, cajoling me and cheering me on how to win hearts at the group discussion, even tips to treat handsome men with lady like snobbery. “You wish girls!” I thought. With years of determination, I had managed to get through three prestigious Post graduate courses and I really didn’t care even if Brad Pitt landed to help me board that Punjab roadways bus! I managed a peaceful journey on the bus smelling of desi ghee and unwashed woollen blankets.

I felt the butterflies in my stomach when my name was called out for the final selection in Pune on 6^th Jan. A jump in elation, hugs and kisses I couldn’t stop the blood rush to my cheeks and …. “Wait!! What? 6^th Jan? I have to miss the NIFT selection”, I exclaimed.

And that was the Prologue to my infamous ‘First-ever’ air travel. The results were out; I was not amongst the selected in Pune. A silent heart is all I had, hopes were crushed. I didn’t know where to turn for light and that’s when my father took pity on me and agreed upon paying for travel by air! Wish I could put emojis to show what it really felt like! An emotional high blood pressure, almost bursting out with happiness emoji can depict me well.

Extremely proud, (God knows why? Probably for getting an entry to All India Mass comm. flunking club) I mentally prepared for the travel. Middle class yet flying like business class was my agenda. A pair of heels, black suitcase and the English daily in hand, I wouldn’t have recognised myself in the mirror. At the airport, Air India was waiting. . Sure there was a lift in my gait. I have arrived, I thought. The beginning of my ever shining career, No more desi ghee! Hail high living!

Oh wow! Is it all real? Am I dreaming? I pinched myself quiet a number of times before figuring out what-the-hell seat belt with a little help from oh- so comfortable neighbour. I was the Gen X woman ready to take on the world with my knowledge, education, CSR, India today and of course the Newspaper. I could blurt out names of prime ministers, history of the world, top statistics of India in my sleep. I went on enforcing the fact that I was the ‘educated’ one there by picking up India Today over a Femina. Quietly listening to music, down the aisle I spotted the airhostess. She was going to some seats and saying something. I could not figure out what? As she approached, I was getting anxious, what will she ask? How’s your day? Do you like it overboard? Hope you are okay? were my brain’s suggestions. Finally she came near; I ruffled my paper and took out the latest Times. It has to be the first impression you know! I turned and saw her saying something. #$^&%?? Oops! my earphones. She bent down now and said, #$#%$$??? What? Oh god! Why can’t I hear? These flight attendees use British English only na? I am sorry, I said, gesturing that I couldn’t hear. She bent down again this time and asked, MADAM! AAP MAASAHARI HAIN YAA SHAAKAHARI? My world came crashing down to my feet, I understood that my preparation did not help this time and settled for Shaakahari. I ducked myself deep in to the seat with shame and stared at the Times in my lap. Oh Great! I was reading it upside down.

Single Is Plural

Its birthday for my grandmother (I call her ammichi) who turned eighty today. Every year, she decides when it is her birthday keeping track of the dates as per the Malayalam calendar.  I am sitting with her on the porch, her above-ankle cotton sari wisps in the warm air. I can see her deep wrinkle lines, criss- crossing at the back of her palm. Fingers with lot of cuts have become dark and stiff. Kerala as a state has maximum literacy and a higher ratio of women to men. Ammichi, isn’t literate and not proud of too many girls being born in her family. Typical to her generation she awaits the birth of her next male heir. She describes herself with ease; one that had an early marriage (at 15 years of age) survived the commotions of a joint family, a widow, a farmer, housekeeper, teacher, cashier and a mother of four. I can see her eyes moist when she recalls one of her abortions. She says she can still feel the baby gasping for breath between her legs. Most of her life she has been single handedly managing her fields and family contributing to the society in her own way.

 I look at her I see ‘Life’ I see ‘woman’ a single woman with her plural power.

My cursor is blinking, as I wait for the emotional outpour of words. It’s blinking. Single. Look at your cursor now. See how powerful it is from within. Use that power again. Single is plural.

The DIL and BANG of it!

It’s very amusing to be near your loved ones, pick a phone or just land up ringing your girl friends doorbell. But all is not so easy when you travel to a new city and start feeling like a lonely soul on a huge island. This is what I faced when I landed myself to the IT city Bangalore. The picture pasted in my mind was of mechanical robots, laptops, machines, prompt behavior and a spic and span city. Yes, many of which were true but once I started living inside this ecosystem some facts were stark enough to be ignored.

The first thing I missed was the RUSH, the mad adrenaline rush which the Dilliwallas breathe through every day, every minute. A drive to ‘kill’. Yes, I said Kill, they are sharp. Working in Delhi is like a threat on your neck. If you don’t do the work, another five people are ready to do the same job, declaring the conquest loud.  Right opposite to this was the crowd at my advertising firm. Thoughts were more important here than actions. So many thoughts were blown away in smoke at the verandah that watches were never worn. Day started at ten and filter kaapi kept the thoughtful mind intact. All was at ease here; while the Delhi people were busy throttling each other’s throat. Submissions could be late but what mattered was the content.

Apart from the work culture of 11 to 7, Bangalore was slow and easy to digest. The weather, traffic sense (which is now non-existent) and the warmth of the natives could never be missed. Bangalore has always been the right mix of culture and technology, it all depends which part of the city you survive in.

 Travelling by public transport in Delhi was always a nightmare, and only God would help if you lose your way. The last thing to expect while in Delhi was help. But is a life worth living without a little chaos? The busy streets of Janpath and CP, the colors so vibrant, the aroma of chats and kebabs, the authentic food streets of Chandni Chowk and the immediate peace at Lotus Temple are to be reckoned with warmth.  The philosophy behind zest for life is different for both the cities. While one enhances the everyday flavor of life, living life to the fullest, the other tells a different tale, of living it at the edge!

I WANNA BE PLUGGED!

I am at the helm of breaking, heart pounding, fingers tapping I am in a rush to get my lappy plugged. I am carrying my lappy breathing its last battery. The meter showing yellow triangle and off I run to plug it in. Individuals in a race to get plugged in to this, World Wide Web. And too many options too to just plug ourselves in. I feel a peculiar sense of calmness when am back in the familiar world of Social networks. Google plus just added to the circles I created for myself. Idea of a groups offered by Yahoo was a big thing once, then were the social networks like Twitter, Orkut, Facebook, Buzz, And in between somewhere, were the blogs.

‘Thought is energy. To create it, just use your imagination’. This thought-processing, energy generation as Einstein called it, is a child’s play now. Every fourth minute am thinking of something and if not me somebody is typing that on YASN (yet another social network). Once I had questioned the evolution of man through technology and yet today I see it as another life which I live virtually. Selective self-portrayal yet Plugged IN.

Democracy on ur Platter

A spoonful of mad saffron, a handful of green jehadis, one tablespoon blue collars, some white corrupt collars, Khaki sour men and some blue rifle naxals, red communal pepper (as per taste). Mix all this together and put it under the pre heated political news channel and get your favourite democracy meals everyday!

I can’t bear to talk about Mr. Ramdev suddenly popping from the box and claiming to be the next messiah. Not that I like what’s happening but not through a self hyped character who tried to runaway in women’s attire for the fear of being caught.! So much for Gandhi’s following? Much drama could have been saved if he would have allowed police to arrest him instead of hiding behind women. Don’t you understand that him and many more are just taking advantage of the mess and gaining brownie points? Don’t you think that, it could have been the BJP allies in muddle if they had won the elections? Nor UPA neither BJP can pass the Lokpal bill; all are in the same clutter. Do you think Jayalalitha will be any better than Karunanidhi? Nobody is cleaner here. Policies of cheating differ. I wonder how good it is to giveaway free rice and groceries to the common man. Isn’t it leading them to become lazy? Opening more small scale industries would have been a long term solution to employment, poverty and hunger. Best part is just like I enter my kitchen to cook and then again get busy with my life, I am able to switch off the democracy cookery show anytime. But for how long? Gathering better ingredients for a better meal should be the priority now. More determined educated common men will be the answer to make it gourmet.

BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Feel like am alone in a huge marketplace.

Wt are you people doing? Y u so bz?!! Typing typing..chatting chatting, fighting fighting ,  running running, missing missing winding winding, driving driving, playing playing, watching watching, thinking thinking, finding finding, eating, sleeping, teaching,cooking,making,sewing, learning, browsing,drinking,laughing, catching, drawing,dancing, buying, ljasdhkf,badjfll, vnurtggtgn,jhhfruhfuhrfhrfhfjf, buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz…

hmmmmm..do you ever REST? believe me RESTING is the last word even on my mind. But don’t you need a stop? STOP.

Not a full stop!!!

You can start now.