12 years ago..
in class 1 C, JAwahar Vidyalaya..
There was pin drop silence in the class of 48 monsters. All eyes were fixed upon 2 figures in the front of the room besides the teachers'vacant desk. THe air was filled with hostility and hatred. Proud and valiant with hair all wild and loose from a long undone plait, a huge black crease of correlium slashed across her small forehead, deeply wrinked and dirty pinoform clinging to her tiny frame, stood a girl facing an opponent twice her size and weight. She was my model of Xena,the warrior princess. The villain, the class bully, Parthiban circled around her watchfully and began the bloodshed with a fist on her face.Her howl was the cry of wild bull ready to kill. In a lightning fast movement, she jumped on her enemy's back, tearing at his hair. The fight has begun.
This is my friend of the past 15 years.Always ready for a fight, she was the terror queen of our class and my best friend. She was also my sole protector,defending my unberably shy and timid self against anyone who dared to taunt me in my trying, difficult childhood. Most of all, she was my role model(a solemn heroine who steals from her enemies, huge crayons n pencils to distribute amogst her allies,the voiceless )We swore to be blood buddies till we die.
Alas, fate couldnt help but challenge the strength of our friendship.Barely managing to pass the 2nd grade and having failed 3rd grade, my friend was moved to a different school. Yet, we kept in touch, true to our promise, even if we were not that blood buddies.
1 day ago:
I walked into my house, dead tired after driving in a monstrous Chennai traffic and drenched wet in the rain. Enters Xena (now clad in a neat salwar, pinned dupatta, long plaited hair, adorned with matching earning,necklace, bangles,rings, a new additional nose ring, and a purse)
me :HI!! HOW ARE YOU?! been such a long time..
xena: HEY Aarthi!ya.m fine.how r u?! well, m not speaking to u, dint even inform me that u came back! u ve changed a lot! A LOT! Look at you..OMG..wat have u done to ur hair? i hate it..(cries in horror)I so hate it.
me: just an unsuccesful experiment, it 'll grow back.chuck it.tell me, hows college?
xena: shut up. u ve changed so much.OMG! y are ur nails so long! wat r u? a tiger? its do dirty..Aunty, look at this..tell her to cut it NOW. wat u wearing! Aunty!send her shopping with me once. u r in college for God's sake. (pulls my ear and scrutinises it.) not wearing a earing! wre r those long lovely ones i got for u last time?
rants about my pitiful appearance, lack of dressing skills, pathetic sense of fashion for the next 15 min. pauses for a breath.
continues..
hey u gotto c this..my new diamond nosering. my mom got fr me for passing all my exams!its beautiful isnt it?! to think that i was last in my class to get my nose pierced!
runs over to my mom in kitchen to flash the tiny blob
after giving me a few blissful moments of privacy and peace,comes back to me.
gosh! its late..gotto head back. come, drop me home! cant travel alone..its already past 8 and the streets r dark..u kno, there is a psycho roaming around Chennai these days..cant go alone at all in nights! come on..
A mild migrane was already forming on my head. I dragged my beaten body to do us both a favour and marched her home. I managed to come back alone yet safe,caught in a daze more frightening than any phychos let loose , marvelling at the ways life can change a body, the ghosts of my friend,philosopher and mentor still haunting my mind.
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Monday, July 21, 2008
the traumatic times of festivities
Its been two years since I spent a proper Diwali with crackers ,pudu dress, ofcourse cable TV movies), a proper Navrathri with our usual 5 storey golu bomma sets, hordes of maamis haunting our house and being forced to visit their houses and put under extreme tortures of singing my off key ,long forgotten carnatic songs. Its been 2 years since I celebrated a proper Krishna Jayanthi with plenty of home cooked sweets (unfortunately I dont happen to like most of the sweets) or a proper Karthikai deepam or ganesh Chaturthi. Yes, for tha past 2 years, I was completely absent form my home and dint have any opportunity to witness any of the trademark Hindu festivals which turned my house upside down when I was growing up there.
This came out as a surprise for me yet when I was thinking about the absence of cultural elements, of joyous festivities in my present life and lamenting the fact that I may never in future get that chance to participate in those again, there came a sense of peace and relief instead of worry and yearning. Being brought up in an orthodox (well, almost orthodox) Tam Brahm family, I was forced into participating all the usual religious rituals and festivals which I did with an air of complete indifference. THis has even started many disputes in my family as I happened to be unfortunate enof to not like things that are liked by all. i hate having guests at home, I am eco concious and forbid to bursting crackers on Diwali and I dont like sweets that I am forced to eat on every function. My mom has indeed taken pains to explain to me their significance yet it has failed to reach me as I could no longer connect them with the modern world we are all living in.
For example, NAvrathri festival which signifies the end of demon mahisaasura by godess Durga is a great ,enormous festival in India. It was also a great torture I had to endure every year. I cant understand why people still dont get the inconvineances of celebrating with golus is (>>> and != ) the intended meaning to inculcate the spirit of worshipping the GOdess Shakti in her differnt forms on the 9 days. It is a foremost chance for girl children to be tortured. I can hardly forget the times when my mom's ardent enthusiasm led her to dress me up in various veshams of Krishna and Rama (yes, with the flute , bow n arrow etc)and send me off to be admired to various houses of neighbourhood maamis, where I was to be owwwed and aawwwed at in my dad's veshti and an unforcomtable kondai complete with peacock feathers,to which I honestly cant accept the justification that Lord Krishna really arrives in our homes to admire the innocence and beauty of these child Krishnas ( I bet the children hated every single minute of the costume party and were cursing the God himself).
No.2, The popularity of distributing sundals, redistributing soap seepu kannadis that was already given by others, discriminating ppl on blouse bit issues might have been acceptable once upon a time as it served as the only source of entertainment , gossip, a fun fare for the brahmin women till mid 20th century.
But now it is merely an absolute waste of time and energy to have these extra pains of saravana stores shopping or calling on neighbours (whom we genrally hate), keeping track of beetal leaves and blouse bits amidst the usual strenuous household chores after a hectic day at work. I bet women now invisibly cry out in pain everytime a visiting maami insists on singing a huge krithi (which are now a days getting uncalled for ) and worse, prompting the hostess to sing an aarathi. The memory of my mom desparately trying to manage the guests, checking on sundal stockage while I am shouting for her help with homework still brings me a smile (ofcourse I am later to be scolded for not helping her out with chasing those maamis sooner by distributing the sundals earlier).
Its just that a lot of such traditions and rituals though meant well in earlier days are becoming completely useless in these changing times of the IT world. People, in the name of conservatism just dont realise the importance of moving forward and adapting to these changes . It is not that our traditions should be forgotten but why not change the rituals more suitable for today yet restoring the essense and spirit of the festivals?
Now, I have atlast found my peace with the dassara days. I do worship each of the significant Godesses on all those days privately, enjoy the beautiful golus at the temple and eat sundal prasadam for 1 day. how much more fun can Dassera get now that am even beginning to like sundal?!
This came out as a surprise for me yet when I was thinking about the absence of cultural elements, of joyous festivities in my present life and lamenting the fact that I may never in future get that chance to participate in those again, there came a sense of peace and relief instead of worry and yearning. Being brought up in an orthodox (well, almost orthodox) Tam Brahm family, I was forced into participating all the usual religious rituals and festivals which I did with an air of complete indifference. THis has even started many disputes in my family as I happened to be unfortunate enof to not like things that are liked by all. i hate having guests at home, I am eco concious and forbid to bursting crackers on Diwali and I dont like sweets that I am forced to eat on every function. My mom has indeed taken pains to explain to me their significance yet it has failed to reach me as I could no longer connect them with the modern world we are all living in.
For example, NAvrathri festival which signifies the end of demon mahisaasura by godess Durga is a great ,enormous festival in India. It was also a great torture I had to endure every year. I cant understand why people still dont get the inconvineances of celebrating with golus is (>>> and != ) the intended meaning to inculcate the spirit of worshipping the GOdess Shakti in her differnt forms on the 9 days. It is a foremost chance for girl children to be tortured. I can hardly forget the times when my mom's ardent enthusiasm led her to dress me up in various veshams of Krishna and Rama (yes, with the flute , bow n arrow etc)and send me off to be admired to various houses of neighbourhood maamis, where I was to be owwwed and aawwwed at in my dad's veshti and an unforcomtable kondai complete with peacock feathers,to which I honestly cant accept the justification that Lord Krishna really arrives in our homes to admire the innocence and beauty of these child Krishnas ( I bet the children hated every single minute of the costume party and were cursing the God himself).
No.2, The popularity of distributing sundals, redistributing soap seepu kannadis that was already given by others, discriminating ppl on blouse bit issues might have been acceptable once upon a time as it served as the only source of entertainment , gossip, a fun fare for the brahmin women till mid 20th century.
But now it is merely an absolute waste of time and energy to have these extra pains of saravana stores shopping or calling on neighbours (whom we genrally hate), keeping track of beetal leaves and blouse bits amidst the usual strenuous household chores after a hectic day at work. I bet women now invisibly cry out in pain everytime a visiting maami insists on singing a huge krithi (which are now a days getting uncalled for ) and worse, prompting the hostess to sing an aarathi. The memory of my mom desparately trying to manage the guests, checking on sundal stockage while I am shouting for her help with homework still brings me a smile (ofcourse I am later to be scolded for not helping her out with chasing those maamis sooner by distributing the sundals earlier).
Its just that a lot of such traditions and rituals though meant well in earlier days are becoming completely useless in these changing times of the IT world. People, in the name of conservatism just dont realise the importance of moving forward and adapting to these changes . It is not that our traditions should be forgotten but why not change the rituals more suitable for today yet restoring the essense and spirit of the festivals?
Now, I have atlast found my peace with the dassara days. I do worship each of the significant Godesses on all those days privately, enjoy the beautiful golus at the temple and eat sundal prasadam for 1 day. how much more fun can Dassera get now that am even beginning to like sundal?!
Monday, July 7, 2008
Cab Dramas
Living in Singapore makes one accostomed to a lot of strange things. One such is the regular mundane convos with cab drivers. Every cab ride here is a different experience in itself. Infact I have had some of the best fun in cabs. There are basically 3 types of cabbies- one who constantly chatter your heads off in irritating Singlish.Usually these are over friendly elderly Chinese uncles with the same old question." what are you doing here la ?" and when the usual answer is computer/electrical engineering, he immediately tops it up with grand icings of advice
"what! computar?? why la? u coming india here doing computer..all computer everywre here, no jobs oredy la!..i tell u, computar no good la! no good".... for the entire ride.
type no 2 is the silent mum types which is a great relief after travelling in type 1's cabs . Yet the problem of the strict silence is that it dusnt give us a chance to decipher his mother tongue and sometimes makes us receive dark looks when passing the usual cabbie coments. Not to mention the common prob of hiring a cab, only later to realise the absence of money in the purse, and the apologetic request of paying by NETS which wont be unfortunately available on the cab , turning the scene even more fantastic. After the string of his vulgur swearing in Chinese when we try unsuccessfully to scrap the few 5 cent coins at the bottom of our wallets with a desparate hope to equate it into the enormous fare, "the get out" spitting out at the end needs no second telling. If looks could kill, i am lucky to have survived till now
type no 3 is the most interesting. I will have to mention a personal experience to describe them.
my frends and myself took a cab last year after dining at an excellent Indian restaurant.Tired to the bone after eating till our stomachs would burst, we got into a cab with a huge relief.The cabbie was a young Malay guy.
Sprawled on the back seat and amidst our sleepy talk about a satisfying meal, we heard a sudden high pitched scream..
"latchumeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee"
and again..
"latchumeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee"
the blood drained off from my friend's face when we realised it was her name he was screaming in the 6th kattai pitch.
a hysterical laugh followed suit. and agian the screming started.
i couldnt hold back the storm of my laughter anymore. It was the hardest laugh I have had in my life, watching my friend's face during her name chanting.. I laufed till I was about to puke.
Later when we all stabilised, the guy cried out in full enthu, to my friend,
"your name is latchumeeee? my wife also latchumeeeee...i love latchumeeeee"
He supposedly so loved the name as he insisted vehemently on screaming it till we finally paid the fare 20 min later.
Last but not the least,few but not frequent, there are the "Anadha rakshaka" types. Recently, I met one such when we were going for our weekly Friday nite movie. My brilliant friend had booked tix online beforehand and we comfortably arrived at Jurong IMM 1 hr b4 the movie fr dinner. Our so planned scouting to dine at a new resto shattered as we were left to gawk at the mountain high prices on the menu cards. We regretfully accepted our destiny and made way to a Mc D outlet fr the usual junk. As usual we had miscalculated the timing and distance of the "nearby" theatre and had to run fr 800 m at top speed to catch the movie. The horror on our faces when the counter lady sweetly said we had arrived 5 min late at the wrong theatre must have been unmistakable. Alas, the same brilliant friend had muddled up the cinemas as well. We piked up our marathon and praying with all our mite to catch a cab, ran to and fro on the streets. After an agonising wait of 5 min, enter the good hero cabbie on the scene. The rush to Boon Lay theatre passed in a haze of cursings, swearings, shoutings, fightings. Thankfully the cabbie dint talk much but acted swifly using his brains. 20 min later, when we were seated on the correct theatre for the correct film, watching the title "Sex and the City" come up on the screen (due to a delayed movie start coz of too much advertisements) , I realised Gods do exist in this world and thanked the timely anadha rakshaka with all my heart.
"what! computar?? why la? u coming india here doing computer..all computer everywre here, no jobs oredy la!..i tell u, computar no good la! no good".... for the entire ride.
type no 2 is the silent mum types which is a great relief after travelling in type 1's cabs . Yet the problem of the strict silence is that it dusnt give us a chance to decipher his mother tongue and sometimes makes us receive dark looks when passing the usual cabbie coments. Not to mention the common prob of hiring a cab, only later to realise the absence of money in the purse, and the apologetic request of paying by NETS which wont be unfortunately available on the cab , turning the scene even more fantastic. After the string of his vulgur swearing in Chinese when we try unsuccessfully to scrap the few 5 cent coins at the bottom of our wallets with a desparate hope to equate it into the enormous fare, "the get out" spitting out at the end needs no second telling. If looks could kill, i am lucky to have survived till now
type no 3 is the most interesting. I will have to mention a personal experience to describe them.
my frends and myself took a cab last year after dining at an excellent Indian restaurant.Tired to the bone after eating till our stomachs would burst, we got into a cab with a huge relief.The cabbie was a young Malay guy.
Sprawled on the back seat and amidst our sleepy talk about a satisfying meal, we heard a sudden high pitched scream..
"latchumeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee"
and again..
"latchumeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee"
the blood drained off from my friend's face when we realised it was her name he was screaming in the 6th kattai pitch.
a hysterical laugh followed suit. and agian the screming started.
i couldnt hold back the storm of my laughter anymore. It was the hardest laugh I have had in my life, watching my friend's face during her name chanting.. I laufed till I was about to puke.
Later when we all stabilised, the guy cried out in full enthu, to my friend,
"your name is latchumeeee? my wife also latchumeeeee...i love latchumeeeee"
He supposedly so loved the name as he insisted vehemently on screaming it till we finally paid the fare 20 min later.
Last but not the least,few but not frequent, there are the "Anadha rakshaka" types. Recently, I met one such when we were going for our weekly Friday nite movie. My brilliant friend had booked tix online beforehand and we comfortably arrived at Jurong IMM 1 hr b4 the movie fr dinner. Our so planned scouting to dine at a new resto shattered as we were left to gawk at the mountain high prices on the menu cards. We regretfully accepted our destiny and made way to a Mc D outlet fr the usual junk. As usual we had miscalculated the timing and distance of the "nearby" theatre and had to run fr 800 m at top speed to catch the movie. The horror on our faces when the counter lady sweetly said we had arrived 5 min late at the wrong theatre must have been unmistakable. Alas, the same brilliant friend had muddled up the cinemas as well. We piked up our marathon and praying with all our mite to catch a cab, ran to and fro on the streets. After an agonising wait of 5 min, enter the good hero cabbie on the scene. The rush to Boon Lay theatre passed in a haze of cursings, swearings, shoutings, fightings. Thankfully the cabbie dint talk much but acted swifly using his brains. 20 min later, when we were seated on the correct theatre for the correct film, watching the title "Sex and the City" come up on the screen (due to a delayed movie start coz of too much advertisements) , I realised Gods do exist in this world and thanked the timely anadha rakshaka with all my heart.
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