inside the deep hole.

it was midnight. I lay quietly staring at the florescent light from my digital watch. The alarm went off mildly signaling the completion of 40 years of my life on this planet. I had turned 40. I tossed around to make myself fall asleep unsuccessfully. They kept plaging me. The same doubts, the same questions and in the end, the same feeling of restlessness.I know not the answers, dont know where to find them. I prayed for sleep to wash away this confusions. I tried to remember the scores of assignments filling up my day, the long list of pending ones to complete. I hated it. There was no time. just no time to relax, to enjoy, to remember my dreams.those long forgotton ones that haunt my sleep in the long lonely nights..a hazy picture of a boy running in green fields, the boy flying kites, the same boy lying near the beach, gazing at the star studded skies ..he yearned to know more, learn more, suck up every bit of knowledge about the fascinating world surrounding him . above all, he yearned to fly , be free to explore , rule the skies , far away from the grasp of any control. oh, how wonderful life can be, how sweet it is to uncover each of its little mysteries layer by layer, to marvel at its complex intricacies in the process, to rediscover its forgotten beauties.. with so many places to go, so many things to see, so much more to know.. All of a sudden, a whirlpool arrives to snatch away the freedom. He was tossed around the wind, powerless to stop , helpless to escape.. the world gets torn apart, life changes upside down. Everything is blurry, muddled up. He is trapped in the heavy chains of the nature, the nature of things, the nature of life itelf. The whirlpool sucks him onto its bottonless vortex. Along the void of a mundane hole, he falls deeper and deeper for the rest of his life, for eternity..

Atlast I fell into the same pattern of disturbed sleep in those few patches of time, a mere few hours spent in a bliss , away from everyone, everything. . There i lie, in a land of green fields, orchads, of kites and beaches. I smile in my sleep , something that is becoming extremely rare in the 40 years of my life.

A harmonic evening with Harmonica

Tired of being vetti, I dragged one of my friends to attend a free concert of HArmonica recital at University cultural centre yesterday. From what i could see from the advertisement pamplet, harmonica is something like a mouth organ. So, planning an emergency escape route in case of extreme mokai, we sat v. close to the exits. TO our astonishment, it turned out to be far more than fantastic.An instrument , totally dependent on numerous tongue techniques, its supposed to be v. helpful to one's social life too. I could only then appreciate the talent of our balloon vendors playing 5 rs mouth organs on the roadsides.. THe second surprise was the soprano song .HAving seen opera as a joke on bollywood films all the time, with fat women screeching our heads off, i was truly stumped when the lead singer started her piece. The voice, the vibrations ,the emotions all bottled up in a sound so pure and magical, it brings out the most exotic and esctatic feeling, carrying us to the realms of strange far off lands. I wish ppl stop portraying wrong images of art forms they know not just to create a joke out of it for commercial entertainment purposes.

One of the advantage of being a layman in music is that we can happily enjoy the art, appreciate it, relish it without having the burden of identifying mistakes or having an inclination to judge and compare it with other musical forms. So was the case in my first experience in witnessing live wierd music.

My wonder visit

The clear blue skies and the fresh burst of mountain breeze welcomes one and all into this paradise on earth. What else can it be when a picturesique panorama of majestic mountains, rich in its lush green vegetation, plentiful rainfalls, spectacular snowy peaks, energetic rivers, valleys with its tiny villages and absolute beauty- fresh and innocent and unspoiled, greets the dusty, suffocated, straining eyes of city dwellers?! My 3 day stay at Manali or the place of human rebirth, nestled in the valleys of Himalayas, verified the authencity of its title to me. After leading a gruelling and beaten life of hustle- bustle with every waking moment spent as per timed to the minute, I was truly healed by the breath taking serenity of this charming village.
The trip to Rotong pass, though having failed us in our penance to see our first snow , still managed to provide an awesome adventure by trapping us in its maze of thick fog and mist. For the first time, I experienced what a fog blizzaard, a powerful wave of nauseating cold and frigid air , lack of O2 can do to a hale and healthy body. Our trip to Beas kund was successful and we managed to see the origin of the river that rules this part of the mountains, sweeping through the towns of kullu and manikaran.

Other must vist place in Kullu includes the Vasihnavi devi temple. Though still under construction, the temple induces peace and serenity to one and all alike, its setting over the Beas river mystically mersmerising the devotees and the wooden artwork in the tapestries- just fills us with awe. But the most remarkable of the lot are the idols of the Gods housed in its caves. Powerful, imposing, beautiful, a spark is felt by even the most athiest onlookers .

I guess i could write a complete tour book if I dont curtail my enthusiastic thoughts right now. So, I will just close up by asking all my jobless readers not to commute anywhere by Rajdhani express ever. A definite spoiler for any level of satisfying and happy journey, it just SUCKS BIG TIME.

The Last Sight

Thunderous waves crashing on the rocks,
A dense deep gloom filling the skies,
Torrents of wind ripping at my clothes,
I stand on the cliff, my heart over its edge.

Darkness closing in on all the sides,
Dangers flashing out from the angry tides,
Howls of the storm defeaning my ears,
my breath caught up in its furious gears.

The Black magic began, the heavens broke loose,
Spears of fires striking from the wretched hell,
Screams of fright and pains amidst,
The Dance of the God ruled free in all its might.

A beauty beyond perfection,
A power beyond imagination,
With the grace of an eternal fury,
Energy inconceivable by any mortal soul.

My sight blinded,my body, frigid
A life at the tip of Death's deadly jaws,
As my last second stretched away,
I plunged into the eye of this unknown Power.

-rt

ghosts of a bygone buddy

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.

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?!

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.