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.

Bangalore Yap

Life happens when u least expect it. The small tit bits are usually the memorable instances of our lives. After my ordeal with the north, my marriage brought me down south. I had never heard so much of the southern languages earlier. Yeah, being in Bangalore did give me breathers with the banglish yet 'aul is not so simble heere'.


Machha was a novel concept for me. For every sentence came in Macha.. I recognized the word immediately, I am smart, you see. Machha = macho. Many years hence, I understood the true meaning. Yaa another suffix which bangaloreans use, Yaa= yaar. What about Maa & Paa.. ohk they are also suffixes depending on the gender.

This was simpler but worse did come when all (tamil, kannada and malyalam) was thrown at me together. The first morning at our Bangalore house, I was still trying to recollect the names of my new found relatives when I heard, ting ting ting. Some sort of a bell. Suddenly all were running around. Aunties, mummies, daughters… nighties, payjamas saying, Aeyi.. Kasa banthu! Seeing my puzzled look, someone did explain that Kasa came, but who was Kasa? What made them run for it, I learnt it soon. One huge round lady, pushing a cartwheel of garbage. I don’t know if she was bigger or the load, but I knew why all were running.

Over the years, I became wiser and realized that the tone also matters here. One would never say, Venno (do you want? In regular mal) they will sing a song asking, venammmaa! And everything is FULL here no halves mind u! Fuuull right hogi (take extreme right), Fuuull clean maadi (clean it well), Fuuulllaa thorsi (show all items). Bangalore kannada is not that tough, if you have a background in english, hindi and any one, southern language, it’s easy to grasp. Bus= Bus + (u) = bussu, Car= car + (u) = Caroo. Same formula applies to any object eg, soap-u, bed-u etc. Am sure there must be more fundas to explain it fuull, but waat to do macha, no time only!

TO be or NOT to be?

This feeling of to be and not to be is hovering around, since I reached here. To do or not to do. To go or not to go. To help or not to. To take over or not to. To surrender or not to; To share or not; to write or not; to post or not; to forget or not…


I never found life so complicated till now. It’s a feeling of nowhere, no more; which is holding me back. Wish I could be more forthcoming and just get away with these question marks. I try to make it simpler, taking one day at a time but the future makes me anxious. Wish I could grab the pen like old days and write my favourite ‘to do’ list. I love making to-do list and I feel elated to strike through the ‘done’ points. As if those things will never come up again in life, as if I have done away with them. It’s like one tension less.. hmm. Soon I will be back, I have to be back. How it would give me immense peace to cancel out this Number one task.. to or not to be

This day That age..

Joji in his loose khaki shorts and crew cut bent forward holding his large ears. No wonder he was called the elephant eared short boy in class. This was not an unusual sight in a joint family hustling with more than 15 school going kids. A conservative, Christian family living at the city's centre was well known for its hierarchy. Kids were quiet bored hearing stories of great grandfather in Travancore court or the generous men who returned the dowry of jewelers street when great grandmother’s brother was in debt. Grandfather lead the Chaldeans to make their own identity and appa was busy in and out with his high society club mates. After the men left for work in the morning, the day would start for Joji and his siblings. Being the eldest was no fun. All kids looked up to him and nothing could save you from amma’s wrath when she found any of the younger one has got hurt. Amma’s wrath came in the form of ladles, woks or even appam chetties from the kitchen. Not even a class bunk could be missed by her. She had spies everywhere. Rosy or ‘Roci’ as they say, would shout from her classroom, ‘Dii mary!’ (dii is colloquial word for hey/ you for female friends or younger ones) your son didn’t come for class today. CMS high school shared wall with the ancestral house.



The latest Malayalam flick had become a challenge for the 7th graders. The brightly painted posters showed Sujatha in her hero’s arms. The cycle rickshaw adorned with a large mouthpiece was thronged by kids collecting colorful pamphlets. English literature seemed so boring in front of Malayalam melodies; Scarlet o’ Hara can never become Sujatha who caught everyone’s heart with her doe eyes and dark tresses. Then what was the logic of literature class on Friday first show, thought Joji. Soon he was sharing the same enthusiasm with his group. So, it was decided no matter what, Sujatha would soon be conquered. A sick leave with amma’s forged signature will be the savior. Even if she finds out, it was easier to sort matters with amma; a long face and watery eyes would soon melt her heart. After all, being the first born matters.


It was not as easy at it seemed. It was a houseful. Pocket allowance was never a tradition in those days, only timely visits at the grandparents house could get you coins. And this time they were not enough to buy tickets in black. All hopes were shattered seeing the seniors from CMS heading towards the entrance. Babu turned and looked at them with sarcasm, bunch of losers were sitting on the iron railing. Scorching heat was soon turning to beads of sweat, the rattling of soda tray was inviting. Anyway the coins were of no use now thought joji. Gazing at the blue marble in soda, Joji was reminded of his last visit to the same hall with his father. Mr. Bannerjee the owner had invited them for the inauguration. Under the white tent he had proudly accompanied his father on the stage. It was the same soda now but the emotions had changed. Mr. Bannerjee, a dark hefty man.


Mr. Bannerjee?! In no time, a special request was made for six chairs to be laid in the balcony. It was dark inside the hall, but who could miss the fair Sujatha drying her long tresses. Interval bell rung, a peon marched in, with colas for the six. The feeling that followed was mere bliss. As if the whole world was looking up to Joji. Smiling with satisfaction, his heart swelled with pride. Sujatha was so near now. His friends could not have asked for a better mate, one who belonged to the high society, could get them inside without a single pie. Someone called out for Babu from top. Charming Joji waved at the seniors seated at the first row. Grinding teeth couldn’t have been louder.


Moist eyes bid farewell to dying Sujatha . With a lump in his throat, Joji got up to leave. In the darkness of the theatre he wriggled through the crowd, hand-in-hand with Venu. The exit door was like a flash of bulb in the eyes, the blazing bright sun. As the eyes adjusted to the light, he could feel Venu touching his ears and giving it a big clinch! Fiery eyed, he turned; only this time it was Appa.

Chini Hai?!

We had a good laugh this morning seeing so many black suited men lined up to knock on our doors. The situation is very dramatical like the Indian neighbourhood aunty who comes knocking for sugar, but still manages to start her conversation complimenting the new bedspread. Mr. Cameron did quite well in his speech at Bangalore, taking a stand on the Indian job market and the mutual give and take prospects. I wonder what Mr. President has to say about it?
The truth being all black suited visitors, have failed every time, they tried making HIBI or so called immigration laws stricter to save the job for the local duds. So, may be Mr. Obama will talk about Kashmir. No, that won’t land him on the right mat after the recent financial aid to Pakistan. He can’t talk about jobs too after his infamous comments on Indians, so maybe he can talk about China, tch tch tch.. Bhopal? Patents (hope all know that apart from basmati and pashmina they took some 139 patents on yoga too)? Hadley? Wiki leak! oops! I think we will have to wait and watch. Mr. Sarkozy is also waiting outside. He will definitely have something to chat about. French are known for their vanity and charm. He can just get Carla along; Men will drool over her and the women can easily be distracted with Mr. Sarkozy’s designer suits while he delivers his speech, anyways we are not very good at French.

Apart from these, we also have the long list of CWG (common wealth games) guests. So what? If the queen isn’t coming, we will still welcome the rest. We can send our Mallyas later to reclaim our Kohinoor. The problem with us is, we are too sentimental about, ‘Athithi Devo Bhav’. We made swanky T3 just for them! Just see, this time we might even spare our medals for our guests. Jai Ho!

No More a Child's Play

We all adore comics, even the lesser owls (of course, the ‘wise’ British owl, I didn’t mean the Indian connotation) whose childhood was spent on streets and tree tops will also agree (pun was not intended). I was particularly very fond of the girl who left behind spots on anything she touched. It used to be an insert in the very up market Richie rich. Was it Archie’s or Richie rich? I used to be big fan of Archies and secretly of her. It was amusing for me. Everywhere she went she left spots and more spots. Polka dots. Circles and more circles, if you look too deep, you slide down, into the wonderland where Alice had her English tea party. Tea reminds me of the delicious description of snacks by Enid Blyton. Jam and scones, chocolate marshmallows, even if I hadn’t tasted a single thing till my graduation, it was mouthwatering!


Its cynical how these fun targeted tiny characters play with our emotions. Vanity fair, was a series of dramatized fairytales on DD; I was pretty awestruck with the laces and flounces and the fair handsome princes, but I found my solace in literature icons (much more fun to read and add your own fantasies to them) like Tom sawyer, Black Beauty, Moby Dick and Huckleberry Finn to serve my boyish side… I know I was pretending. I still remember my snapshot, hair falling on my eyes, a scrumpy bob cut flattering flared trousers and blue check shirt. It was the best shield when I stood nowhere near the ‘oh so petite’ pretty dames who lived in the world of Hello Kitty and Barbie dolls. Devoid of today’s Hannah Montana (HM), it was Betty and Veronica who introduced me to a teenager’s world.

There would be so many more that I grew up with; trying to find my own identity in those characters. Such is the sweetness of those fantasies that reality is difficult to digest. Those tiny characters were moulded after much thought. May be the 19th century characters were moulded to suit the prevalent customs, language and reader’s profile but the contemporary gold diggers corrupted it further for personal gains. The immediate realization of a new target buyer came across. Soon they guided to new consumerism and were index to the social stature. Brands took away the romance and it became more important to know which brand of cereal does Popeye eat? Or which lip gloss does Miley (from HM fame) uses? Brand is the superhero now.