The Bridges of Madison County has inspired me to identify and experience precious moments that'll stay close to my heart, for a lifetime... to not later regret that I missed certain things. Because I have only one life. :-)
Showing posts with label Life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Life. Show all posts
Dear Husky a.k.a. Bushki,
I hope you’re doing well in your beautiful, fluffy golden abode filled with love. This letter is long overdue. I have missed you tons all these years, sweetie pie!
You made a special difference in my life. You were all mine, “my dog” in every sense, in the two days that you whizzed into my life like a golden whirlwind.
It was in the month of May, 12 years back, on my cousin’s birthday. We noticed you lying in a sheltered place in our courtyard. You had a red rag around your neck – a gorgeous golden retriever growling back at us when we tried to make friends with you.
We wouldn’t give up. We threw out pieces of bread to you from the window, and you slowly came around. By evening, you were at the verandah, wagging your tail and jumping up to catch the biscuits we threw in the air. I had come up with a name for you – Husky – I know that’s another dog breed – but still, the name seemed right for you – because it sounded as cute as you. My cousin said that you should be called Bushki ;-).
We went back to the hall, and you stuck your head into the window, eyes shining, making sounds of pleasure as I stroked your head. We noticed that you drooled excessively, and wondered if your owners had decided to abandon you because you were not well (there still are people like that, Husky. In fact their number has only increased.)
Then granny tried to chase you away, but you went deep into the bushes and came right back in front of them when she moved away. This continued for about 10 minutes, after which she gave up.
That night, you wailed and yapped from the backyard, demanding to be let inside. Then you came around to the verandah and proceeded to scratch the net covered door, successfully tearing away a portion of the net.
The next morning, as me and I parents came outside you came running from the side of the house, joyfully leaped at me and licked my face.
The ice was broken with the family. You proudly took residence on the verandah. I went for driving class and you trotted along all the way to the compound gate. Then my cousin told me that you growled at him when he tried to call you back, and that you liked me the most. I did feel proud ;-). Once you even trotted into the hall and stretched out, looking into the dining room, without caring if someone was going to chase you out, feeling as comfortable as you would have in your old home.
That evening, I rode my cycle, and you ran all the way along, your enthusiasm not bogging down the slightest bit. Those moments were special.
Then Grandpa insisted that you had to be left at an animal dispensary attached to our campus, in spite of continuous protests from us. He put his foot down. We felt really sad as we took you to the dispensary, with you bounding down the road energetically, dragging us behind.
We came to visit you in day or two. You seemed tired and did not get up, but joyfully wagged your tail as we called out your name.
We visited you again a few days later. But shocking news awaited us. You had passed away from what one of the pet caretakers claimed was Tetanus. I had tears in my eyes, Husky.
During your last days, you managed to people who loved you and Husky, those days were equally special for me. I am glad that I found you that summer and brought happiness into your life. Rest in peace in doggie heaven, Husky. I’m sure it’s filled with love and happiness.
Woof woof!
We’re a blessed lot
The other day, I overheard a conversation between an acquaintance, M and another person. I knew that M did not have a father, but I didn’t know what had happened. Well, during this conversation, I shouldn’t have pretended to be preoccupied with my work, just showing a bit of concern on my face now and then. Call me whatever, I try not to get too emotionally involved in things – after many experiences all these years, I realized it just makes me sadder – for instance, if I miss someone who’s passed away, well I can’t think again and again – “Oh, I miss her, I miss her, I miss her…” because it’ll bring along other thoughts about times when I’ve been angry with her and how I shouldn’t have been like that. While, of course, I miss that person, I try to wake all the happy memories in my mind. It is the good things that have to be remembered the most.
Well, I drifted away. Let me come back to M’s story. It’ll sound straight out of a movie, but it happens to many families we don’t know about, because we are accustomed to all of life’s comforts, living in a happy bubble.
M lost his father when he was all of 10 years old, due to paralytic stroke. His father lived for barely 2 months after that stroke. He underwent a lot of suffering.
M’s family comprises of his mother, his younger sister and brother (I think he has a younger brother) and an elder one who has a nervous disorder – one of the main nerves in his body doesn’t function properly – he cannot utilize one hand and one leg properly.
That day was M’s birthday. He was saying that they hadn’t celebrated birthdays from when his father passed away – till the last two years. On this birthday his family had surprised him with a cake.
M comes across as a happy-go-lucky fellow. You’d never imagine that he’s the breadwinner of his family, unless you knew things. Probably he’s too young to become more serious about things; yes, one needs to get serious – and maybe he is; he has to take care of a lot of things. But on the exterior he still seems to take each day as it comes, cracking jokes, making chit chat… I hope he makes it his conscious attitude, with a dose of seriousness where it is needed.
There’s another point to this article – the one I started it with. There are many of us with all the comforts life has to offer. We end up taking many of those for granted. Worse, they still don’t make us happy. We get lazy and selfish – not valuing things for what they are. We get angry, short-tempered and bitchy, arguing for many things. Let us take a leaf from the book of those who are worse off. Let us learn to endure and tide over whatever small difficulties we have and appreciate life’s comforts. We’re blessed, and it’s high time we acknowledged that.
Well, I drifted away. Let me come back to M’s story. It’ll sound straight out of a movie, but it happens to many families we don’t know about, because we are accustomed to all of life’s comforts, living in a happy bubble.
M lost his father when he was all of 10 years old, due to paralytic stroke. His father lived for barely 2 months after that stroke. He underwent a lot of suffering.
M’s family comprises of his mother, his younger sister and brother (I think he has a younger brother) and an elder one who has a nervous disorder – one of the main nerves in his body doesn’t function properly – he cannot utilize one hand and one leg properly.
That day was M’s birthday. He was saying that they hadn’t celebrated birthdays from when his father passed away – till the last two years. On this birthday his family had surprised him with a cake.
M comes across as a happy-go-lucky fellow. You’d never imagine that he’s the breadwinner of his family, unless you knew things. Probably he’s too young to become more serious about things; yes, one needs to get serious – and maybe he is; he has to take care of a lot of things. But on the exterior he still seems to take each day as it comes, cracking jokes, making chit chat… I hope he makes it his conscious attitude, with a dose of seriousness where it is needed.
There’s another point to this article – the one I started it with. There are many of us with all the comforts life has to offer. We end up taking many of those for granted. Worse, they still don’t make us happy. We get lazy and selfish – not valuing things for what they are. We get angry, short-tempered and bitchy, arguing for many things. Let us take a leaf from the book of those who are worse off. Let us learn to endure and tide over whatever small difficulties we have and appreciate life’s comforts. We’re blessed, and it’s high time we acknowledged that.
Interview with an auto driver
These days I travel home by auto in the evenings (as I have a wound on my foot that’s still healing). The driver asked for 150 bucks. I said I’d pay only Rs. 120 and he said he’d come down only to Rs. 140. I was feeling very tired and didn’t want to wait for another auto. I got in. I was curious as to why auto drivers charged so much and asked him how much mileage the vehicle yielded. He said it gave 25 km per litre. And that was the start of a long conversation, an "interview" as I would like to call it – which brought out quite a lot from the auto driver and gave me some things to reflect about.
He told me that he had driven all kinds of vehicles in his life – cars, carts, even boats. Aeroplane-um train-um than ma naan ottaley. For many years he had been a car driver; he said he’d worked for many wealthy families. He recounted his experiences while working as a driver – mostly ranting about mean employers, spoilt rich kids who were difficult to manage, employers asking him to wipe cars they hardly used, women asking him to buy vegetables… then he said “There are difficulties in every profession.” Which is of course true.
The auto driver said he’d worked for and known famous people. He talked about Cho Ramaswamy (actor and editor of Tughlak magazine) and how he was a very good man who respected and interacted with people from all backgrounds and classes. He also said something really interesting: Apparently, comedy actor “Loose” Mohan’s son was his classmate; he had known the actor and claimed that he taught him Chennai slang dialogues.
I also asked him how much he made every month and he said that some days he would make a lot of money, some other days he would make very less (a reply I could’ve expected); I didn’t get to know how much the guy made on an average. He said driving in traffic all day made him very tired (which we should really think about – imagine, all auto drivers are bound to get very frustrated because of the traffic every single day).
He felt that I was down to earth and had interacted with him without looking down upon him because he was only an auto driver. He said that my attitude would bring me a good husband and good things in life. I was really touched by this.
I am sure God had a hand in this. He wanted me to interact with an auto driver and take a peek into his world instead of being cocooned in my world and cribbing about increasing rates (this is not to say I think Rs. 140 isn’t high. They can bring it down a little.) It was an interesting evening indeed!
He told me that he had driven all kinds of vehicles in his life – cars, carts, even boats. Aeroplane-um train-um than ma naan ottaley. For many years he had been a car driver; he said he’d worked for many wealthy families. He recounted his experiences while working as a driver – mostly ranting about mean employers, spoilt rich kids who were difficult to manage, employers asking him to wipe cars they hardly used, women asking him to buy vegetables… then he said “There are difficulties in every profession.” Which is of course true.
The auto driver said he’d worked for and known famous people. He talked about Cho Ramaswamy (actor and editor of Tughlak magazine) and how he was a very good man who respected and interacted with people from all backgrounds and classes. He also said something really interesting: Apparently, comedy actor “Loose” Mohan’s son was his classmate; he had known the actor and claimed that he taught him Chennai slang dialogues.
I also asked him how much he made every month and he said that some days he would make a lot of money, some other days he would make very less (a reply I could’ve expected); I didn’t get to know how much the guy made on an average. He said driving in traffic all day made him very tired (which we should really think about – imagine, all auto drivers are bound to get very frustrated because of the traffic every single day).
He felt that I was down to earth and had interacted with him without looking down upon him because he was only an auto driver. He said that my attitude would bring me a good husband and good things in life. I was really touched by this.
I am sure God had a hand in this. He wanted me to interact with an auto driver and take a peek into his world instead of being cocooned in my world and cribbing about increasing rates (this is not to say I think Rs. 140 isn’t high. They can bring it down a little.) It was an interesting evening indeed!
Time for my next post…
When some things in life get complex, you get irritated… you want to get to the root of those things and find out why they’re happening… how you can solve ‘em…
Some things are beautiful when they’re tangled up… you like them as they are, and you’re happy with them.
When these untangle themselves and you feel them in their simplest form, you’re forced to make a logical decision.
Ignorance is bliss. In some situations, it is true.
When some things in life get complex, you get irritated… you want to get to the root of those things and find out why they’re happening… how you can solve ‘em…
Some things are beautiful when they’re tangled up… you like them as they are, and you’re happy with them.
When these untangle themselves and you feel them in their simplest form, you’re forced to make a logical decision.
Ignorance is bliss. In some situations, it is true.
Thirumbi paartha 2009!
Gosh, 2008 is going by real fast, almost like a gush of air.
It feels like hardly any time has passed since I wrote a blog entry on 31st December, 2007.
And now 2009 will come soon. I find myself counting the days. I am eagerly waiting for 2009. I hope that the New Year will bring in exciting and memorable moments, like many do. But why am I counting the days?
Umm, lemme think… What is gonna make 2009 different for me?
I may acquire more knowledge in the field of web copywriting, and writing in general (thanks to plenty of blogging).
I want to revive my hobby of sketching… I started working on that this November, and I want to devote plenty of time to it.
I want to develop more hobbies.
I want to acquire all skills related to running a household.
The above point brings me to other things….
I am gonna turn 25 in March!!! 25!!! I still can’t believe it!!! So, let me devote more time to beautifying myself, and try to look younger, and also do things that’ll make me feel younger (I know many of you will say, ‘Why worry about turning 25?’)
Maplai pathufying will probably happen very seriously. So the New year may be very different.
And what else may happen in 2009? I don’t know.
Will the year turn out to be ‘yet another year’?
Anyway I am mighty excited about 2009. I hope it is a magical year.
It feels like hardly any time has passed since I wrote a blog entry on 31st December, 2007.
And now 2009 will come soon. I find myself counting the days. I am eagerly waiting for 2009. I hope that the New Year will bring in exciting and memorable moments, like many do. But why am I counting the days?
Umm, lemme think… What is gonna make 2009 different for me?
I may acquire more knowledge in the field of web copywriting, and writing in general (thanks to plenty of blogging).
I want to revive my hobby of sketching… I started working on that this November, and I want to devote plenty of time to it.
I want to develop more hobbies.
I want to acquire all skills related to running a household.
The above point brings me to other things….
I am gonna turn 25 in March!!! 25!!! I still can’t believe it!!! So, let me devote more time to beautifying myself, and try to look younger, and also do things that’ll make me feel younger (I know many of you will say, ‘Why worry about turning 25?’)
Maplai pathufying will probably happen very seriously. So the New year may be very different.
And what else may happen in 2009? I don’t know.
Will the year turn out to be ‘yet another year’?
Anyway I am mighty excited about 2009. I hope it is a magical year.
24.10.2008
‘Jab se tere naina… Mere nainon se… laage re…’ I sing as I undergo a new experience. I don’t remember having had such an experience at any point in my life. I feel that I have renounced anger to a large extent. I think… ‘I should take life as it comes… this too shall pass’, as water swishes six inches below my knee.
I am in Waterworld… err… Monsoon Velachery, and I have become a hermit for the evening.
My street is flooded. I hear it has knee deep water. My house too has apparently become Waterworld, with one bedroom and the kitchen left dry. I am writing this in my Dad’s friend’s house on the next street. My father called me in the evening, explained the situation and instructed me to go there. After sometime he called again and asked me to go to my Grandpa’s house in Besant Nagar instead. I headed to Velachery anyway. My mom went to my Grandpa’s house for the night.
Dad is examining our house. He is doing a survey that reminds me of ministers surveying flooded areas – but there’s the obvious difference.
Dad spent the night in our house, in the only dry room, before which the situation was normalised to an extent – cloths were soaked in the water, and squeezed into buckets, water was removed with mugs and buckets.
25.10.2008
Our house was water free, and the maid mopped the floor using Dettol mixed with water. Our street is still flooded – the water’s draining, but taking its own sweet time.
26.10.2008
Most of the water in the street has drained out. Yay. It also hasn’t rained after Friday.
‘Jab se tere naina… Mere nainon se… laage re…’ I sing as I undergo a new experience. I don’t remember having had such an experience at any point in my life. I feel that I have renounced anger to a large extent. I think… ‘I should take life as it comes… this too shall pass’, as water swishes six inches below my knee.
I am in Waterworld… err… Monsoon Velachery, and I have become a hermit for the evening.
My street is flooded. I hear it has knee deep water. My house too has apparently become Waterworld, with one bedroom and the kitchen left dry. I am writing this in my Dad’s friend’s house on the next street. My father called me in the evening, explained the situation and instructed me to go there. After sometime he called again and asked me to go to my Grandpa’s house in Besant Nagar instead. I headed to Velachery anyway. My mom went to my Grandpa’s house for the night.
Dad is examining our house. He is doing a survey that reminds me of ministers surveying flooded areas – but there’s the obvious difference.
Dad spent the night in our house, in the only dry room, before which the situation was normalised to an extent – cloths were soaked in the water, and squeezed into buckets, water was removed with mugs and buckets.
25.10.2008
Our house was water free, and the maid mopped the floor using Dettol mixed with water. Our street is still flooded – the water’s draining, but taking its own sweet time.
26.10.2008
Most of the water in the street has drained out. Yay. It also hasn’t rained after Friday.
Special moments in my life - I
Many moments in life touch our heart. Each deserves to be remembered…
• My colleague has a five year old daughter. She looks very sweet and innocent and has an incredibly cute voice which also takes on a shriller (yet still sweet sounding) tone when she wants to have things her way. She is a Sagittarian, and the traits are already discernable. She’s absolutely adorable, but goes one step further and steals my heart when she stares up at me – some would say that’s an impolite stare, but I see Sagi eyes that don’t know whether such a stare is nice or not. I don’t know what that stare means because I have not played with her yet (I love kids, but need to be taught how to talk and play with them – I am poor at interacting with kids). I just want more and more of those looks from her :-).
• My Creative Head is really sweet and down-to-earth. We don’t talk to each other often, but a few days back, I got a glimpse of his humbleness. He was whistling “Aankhon Mein Teri” from Om Shanti Om. When I told him that he whistled the song very well, he immediately blushed and smiled almost like a child. How many people in a big position take an everyday compliment that way?
• My colleague has a five year old daughter. She looks very sweet and innocent and has an incredibly cute voice which also takes on a shriller (yet still sweet sounding) tone when she wants to have things her way. She is a Sagittarian, and the traits are already discernable. She’s absolutely adorable, but goes one step further and steals my heart when she stares up at me – some would say that’s an impolite stare, but I see Sagi eyes that don’t know whether such a stare is nice or not. I don’t know what that stare means because I have not played with her yet (I love kids, but need to be taught how to talk and play with them – I am poor at interacting with kids). I just want more and more of those looks from her :-).
• My Creative Head is really sweet and down-to-earth. We don’t talk to each other often, but a few days back, I got a glimpse of his humbleness. He was whistling “Aankhon Mein Teri” from Om Shanti Om. When I told him that he whistled the song very well, he immediately blushed and smiled almost like a child. How many people in a big position take an everyday compliment that way?
“What the f*%# is going on?
“F%#$ the project.”
“Oh F%&#!”
Millions throw the f-word about, as if it were a “fashionable” expletive. Smartly dressed educated people, nattily dressed executives, advertising people…
My friend from my own field and my colleague have used it and made me cringe. Now, why should that word creep into everyday conversation when you can use any other word? Is the word so “cool”? I think it sounds downright cheap, sleazy and dirty.
I am not too civilized either. I use a word that’s just as dirty. I have to admit it here. But to save myself – I will try to justify it – it appears in dictionaries. It is “ba%&#rd”. Let’s call it the b-word. You see, there are many rowdies near my office. I have to walk to and from the Mandaveli station and my office everyday. Cheap creeps pass comments. Deplorable creatures are aplenty on other Mandaveli roads too. Someone I have to work with seems to have a crush on me and often tries to talk to me non-officially, & stares at me – to the extent that nobody turns me off at this point in my life like he does. I address them under my breath using the b-word (of course – or else the rowdies may make my life miserable) everyday as a result.
I hate to use the word – I cringed when my friend said once - “All men are ba%&#rds” – but using the word on the people I mentioned makes me feel better, and assures me that I am the civilized (well, not totally civilized with regard to language) kind. Why should I feel guilty for wearing what I wear and looking like me, just because they stare at me and comment? Many do say why women should wear certain clothes and attract male attention. Is it really our fault? The men have to be blamed for not controlling themselves. And if I have to resort to saying the b-word, it’s their fault. I don’t use the b-word on all men. It’s just these people. This relates to one more point – as I said in another blog entry, if a man pursues a girl who is clearly above his standards, things are most likely to go downhill.
“F%#$ the project.”
“Oh F%&#!”
Millions throw the f-word about, as if it were a “fashionable” expletive. Smartly dressed educated people, nattily dressed executives, advertising people…
My friend from my own field and my colleague have used it and made me cringe. Now, why should that word creep into everyday conversation when you can use any other word? Is the word so “cool”? I think it sounds downright cheap, sleazy and dirty.
I am not too civilized either. I use a word that’s just as dirty. I have to admit it here. But to save myself – I will try to justify it – it appears in dictionaries. It is “ba%&#rd”. Let’s call it the b-word. You see, there are many rowdies near my office. I have to walk to and from the Mandaveli station and my office everyday. Cheap creeps pass comments. Deplorable creatures are aplenty on other Mandaveli roads too. Someone I have to work with seems to have a crush on me and often tries to talk to me non-officially, & stares at me – to the extent that nobody turns me off at this point in my life like he does. I address them under my breath using the b-word (of course – or else the rowdies may make my life miserable) everyday as a result.
I hate to use the word – I cringed when my friend said once - “All men are ba%&#rds” – but using the word on the people I mentioned makes me feel better, and assures me that I am the civilized (well, not totally civilized with regard to language) kind. Why should I feel guilty for wearing what I wear and looking like me, just because they stare at me and comment? Many do say why women should wear certain clothes and attract male attention. Is it really our fault? The men have to be blamed for not controlling themselves. And if I have to resort to saying the b-word, it’s their fault. I don’t use the b-word on all men. It’s just these people. This relates to one more point – as I said in another blog entry, if a man pursues a girl who is clearly above his standards, things are most likely to go downhill.
Vandi Koothu… Periya Koothu
I have a Merc on two wheels… err… mistake… it’s a Honda Activa. During the times when I rode it on a half empty road in an ebullient mood, I almost felt as if I was gliding. It’s been nearly two years since it entered my life. It’s my baby. The only problem was that I didn’t care enough for it – I just wiped it if I noticed layers of dust on it, and it would be sent for service at the recommended intervals (always, my father would do it, or the two of us would go together).
After we moved to Velachery, from Besant Nagar, I started going to office by MRTS train, and took out the Activa on weekends (taking it to the station (which is 7 min away) everyday doesn’t really count). Dad told me not to venture out into any of the main roads in Velachery, except when there’s very little traffic (Sunday mornings? Late nights? Midnights? The wee hours of the morning?). One Sunday, I went to Sathyam Cinemas, and my Dad assumed I was taking a train, and then taking an auto. Only after I came back I told him that I’d taken the Activa. Needless to say, he got angry. I explained to him that just driving to and fro the station by bike will not prepare me for facing unfathomable traffic jams.
And yesterday being Saturday, I had some plans. I’d just got an expenditure-inducing sum of money – 3 grand at one go is a big deal for the shopaholic-trying-to-undergo-self-induced-rehab that I am. It could’ve made me break my resolution, but I restrained myself, and decided to blow the money purposefully. Of course, I didn’t tell Dad that I was taking the Activa. I took the road which my Dad had continually warned me not to take, remembering a route through which I had come with my family once. I made my way to Kodambakkam through Guindy, Saidapet and Teynampet.
Now the bike comes into the story once again. The traffic wasn’t bad. I could manage. So I went happily. But after 15 min, at a point where I had to slow down, the engine came to a halt by itself. It was near Saidapet – right before I reached Mount Road. The breadth of the road was packed with vehicles. With considerable willpower, I took my bike to the corner of the road, and tried to start it – first with the kick starter and then with the self start button. After a few mins, the engine came back to life. Off I went again.
And did I mention? Three days back, my bike got soaked in rain. The horn got stuck every time I pressed it, and to stop the sound, I had to pull the horn button. A day later, the self starter began makkarpannufying. The bike stopped thrice on the way to the station in the morning. That evening, however, the self starter seemed ok, so I happily, and a bit daringly made my plans.
Now, back to Mount Road. 10 minutes after the Activa’s engine was resuscitated, it lost its breath again. In the midst of a bunch of 2-wheelers, cycles, and autos. And a couple of traffic policemen by the roadside. It took me 5 mins to start the bike again.
Bike dear stopped about 6 times thereafter. During the bits of drama, I had traveled through Kodambakkam, Nungambakkam, and to Greams Road. (I don’t know where I found the ability to stay calm through it all. Thank God, this didn’t happen a year back.) Then, in the parking lot of Cool Club it almost gave up completely. I wondered if the engine had gone to heaven. After trying to start the bike for some 15 min, I called my father and told the truth, and that I was stuck. My Dad obviously exploded in anger. He asked me to push the bike to Didar Motors on Mount Road. I was already bushed by then, and a lunch with friends was to happen within an hour. I asked the watchman of Cool Club if there was a mechanic shop nearby. When he said it was down that very road, I thought I got lucky. I brought the mechanic to cure my baby. After I explained the illness to him in detail, he said that the cause was a battery problem, and that I would have to get the battery recharged. He told me that however, I could kick start my bike, and, smiling at my weak attempts at it, started the bike with a hard kick. Yay, yippee! Engine came back to life.
The mechanic left, and the engine gave up again. Argghhhh!
I had a good go at the kick starter. And Hooray, bike started.
I planned to leave the bike in my office in Abiramapuram, and then go for lunch. I sped off from Greams Road, with a lot of worry, honking and speeding.
And the bike stopped 2 more times in Nungambakkam!
Some good Samaritans kick started the bike for me. After the engine got a new lease of life near The Park Hotel, I made my way to Abiramapuram, praying for smoothly moving traffic and green signals. I made it to office without a problem, and thanked God profusely.
I finished lunch at Pizza Corner, went to an aunty’s house nearby, recounted the story in part for her, while thoongivazhinjufying. I grabbed 10 min of sleep there. I came out, found a mechanic shop nearby and got his card, so that he could come to my office on Monday, give a second opinion, or repair my bike.
Whew… what a day it was! But I’d been an ass for ignoring the problem when it started. So tomorrow I am going to give my bike some tender loving care. And care for it better in the future. Thank you bike, and God for the little lesson.
After we moved to Velachery, from Besant Nagar, I started going to office by MRTS train, and took out the Activa on weekends (taking it to the station (which is 7 min away) everyday doesn’t really count). Dad told me not to venture out into any of the main roads in Velachery, except when there’s very little traffic (Sunday mornings? Late nights? Midnights? The wee hours of the morning?). One Sunday, I went to Sathyam Cinemas, and my Dad assumed I was taking a train, and then taking an auto. Only after I came back I told him that I’d taken the Activa. Needless to say, he got angry. I explained to him that just driving to and fro the station by bike will not prepare me for facing unfathomable traffic jams.
And yesterday being Saturday, I had some plans. I’d just got an expenditure-inducing sum of money – 3 grand at one go is a big deal for the shopaholic-trying-to-undergo-self-induced-rehab that I am. It could’ve made me break my resolution, but I restrained myself, and decided to blow the money purposefully. Of course, I didn’t tell Dad that I was taking the Activa. I took the road which my Dad had continually warned me not to take, remembering a route through which I had come with my family once. I made my way to Kodambakkam through Guindy, Saidapet and Teynampet.
Now the bike comes into the story once again. The traffic wasn’t bad. I could manage. So I went happily. But after 15 min, at a point where I had to slow down, the engine came to a halt by itself. It was near Saidapet – right before I reached Mount Road. The breadth of the road was packed with vehicles. With considerable willpower, I took my bike to the corner of the road, and tried to start it – first with the kick starter and then with the self start button. After a few mins, the engine came back to life. Off I went again.
And did I mention? Three days back, my bike got soaked in rain. The horn got stuck every time I pressed it, and to stop the sound, I had to pull the horn button. A day later, the self starter began makkarpannufying. The bike stopped thrice on the way to the station in the morning. That evening, however, the self starter seemed ok, so I happily, and a bit daringly made my plans.
Now, back to Mount Road. 10 minutes after the Activa’s engine was resuscitated, it lost its breath again. In the midst of a bunch of 2-wheelers, cycles, and autos. And a couple of traffic policemen by the roadside. It took me 5 mins to start the bike again.
Bike dear stopped about 6 times thereafter. During the bits of drama, I had traveled through Kodambakkam, Nungambakkam, and to Greams Road. (I don’t know where I found the ability to stay calm through it all. Thank God, this didn’t happen a year back.) Then, in the parking lot of Cool Club it almost gave up completely. I wondered if the engine had gone to heaven. After trying to start the bike for some 15 min, I called my father and told the truth, and that I was stuck. My Dad obviously exploded in anger. He asked me to push the bike to Didar Motors on Mount Road. I was already bushed by then, and a lunch with friends was to happen within an hour. I asked the watchman of Cool Club if there was a mechanic shop nearby. When he said it was down that very road, I thought I got lucky. I brought the mechanic to cure my baby. After I explained the illness to him in detail, he said that the cause was a battery problem, and that I would have to get the battery recharged. He told me that however, I could kick start my bike, and, smiling at my weak attempts at it, started the bike with a hard kick. Yay, yippee! Engine came back to life.
The mechanic left, and the engine gave up again. Argghhhh!
I had a good go at the kick starter. And Hooray, bike started.
I planned to leave the bike in my office in Abiramapuram, and then go for lunch. I sped off from Greams Road, with a lot of worry, honking and speeding.
And the bike stopped 2 more times in Nungambakkam!
Some good Samaritans kick started the bike for me. After the engine got a new lease of life near The Park Hotel, I made my way to Abiramapuram, praying for smoothly moving traffic and green signals. I made it to office without a problem, and thanked God profusely.
I finished lunch at Pizza Corner, went to an aunty’s house nearby, recounted the story in part for her, while thoongivazhinjufying. I grabbed 10 min of sleep there. I came out, found a mechanic shop nearby and got his card, so that he could come to my office on Monday, give a second opinion, or repair my bike.
Whew… what a day it was! But I’d been an ass for ignoring the problem when it started. So tomorrow I am going to give my bike some tender loving care. And care for it better in the future. Thank you bike, and God for the little lesson.
Vikku Vinayakaram and Party's Lil' Rasika
Today evening I had gone to Taj Connemara to attend a dinner hosted by my Uncle and Aunt for my Uncle’s 60th birthday. They have four grandchildren, between 2-8 yrs of age. I was looking forward to a good time with my nieces and nephew. And to an aural extravaganza, courtesy Vikku Vinayakaram and his sons.
I am a big fan of instrumental music, and sat through the whole kutcheri with my mom. For the most part, it was aural bliss, until my stomach started rumbling. However, I didn’t want to miss any part of the kutcheri.
Vinayakaram and party made some excellent music. They even punched their ghatams lightly for a few moments to create a particular sound. Vinayakaram’s eldest son did an awesome job with the ganjeera. The music was quite experimental however, and would probably not have appealed to many who were present. We felt sad when the hall became half empty in an hour or so.
But some members of the audience thoroughly enjoyed the show – the kids! Apart from my nieces and nephew, Vinayakaram’s grandkids and other kids were there. The younger kids who were 2-3 yrs old loved the musical beats and started waving their hands and jumping to the ghatam rhythms. But some truly unforgettable moments were created by my niece Tara, who showed some people how one should enjoy the music.
Sometime before the kutcheri ended, Vinayakaram’s son was drumming on the ganjeera for a good 5 minutes. While I was telling my mom how one of the sounds he produced reminded me of the thumping sound one can hear inside a moving train, Tara started dancing delightedly in front of the stage, cackling, her face glowing with happiness.
Great rasanai! Young lady, keep it up. Hope you learn to play some musical instruments and sing in the future. Thanks for showing us the way.
Another thought crossed my mind. Maybe Vinayakaram and party should conduct special kutcheris for kids. But will the parents understand and have him play at a kiddy party?
Anyway, I had a wonderful evening. I am hoping to attend more Vikku Vinayakaram kutcheris.
I am a big fan of instrumental music, and sat through the whole kutcheri with my mom. For the most part, it was aural bliss, until my stomach started rumbling. However, I didn’t want to miss any part of the kutcheri.
Vinayakaram and party made some excellent music. They even punched their ghatams lightly for a few moments to create a particular sound. Vinayakaram’s eldest son did an awesome job with the ganjeera. The music was quite experimental however, and would probably not have appealed to many who were present. We felt sad when the hall became half empty in an hour or so.
But some members of the audience thoroughly enjoyed the show – the kids! Apart from my nieces and nephew, Vinayakaram’s grandkids and other kids were there. The younger kids who were 2-3 yrs old loved the musical beats and started waving their hands and jumping to the ghatam rhythms. But some truly unforgettable moments were created by my niece Tara, who showed some people how one should enjoy the music.
Sometime before the kutcheri ended, Vinayakaram’s son was drumming on the ganjeera for a good 5 minutes. While I was telling my mom how one of the sounds he produced reminded me of the thumping sound one can hear inside a moving train, Tara started dancing delightedly in front of the stage, cackling, her face glowing with happiness.
Great rasanai! Young lady, keep it up. Hope you learn to play some musical instruments and sing in the future. Thanks for showing us the way.
Another thought crossed my mind. Maybe Vinayakaram and party should conduct special kutcheris for kids. But will the parents understand and have him play at a kiddy party?
Anyway, I had a wonderful evening. I am hoping to attend more Vikku Vinayakaram kutcheris.
The Beauty of Unostentatious and Hardly Existent Hangouts
I don’t go to discos, pubs and high end coffee shops. Maybe I should go to Mocha. But the way to Khader Nawaz Khan Road threatens to be so traffic clogged that I can’t imagine riding to the place after a long day. I fight the evening traffic for half-an-hour and go relax at Mocha or Casa Piccola? No way. That’s only enough to relieve driving-induced tiredness.
The main reason why I avoid discos and pubs is that I feel I don’t need the kind of relaxation where you boogey away the evening, or down vodka. With respect to me, that is excessive indulgence.
However, I hang out sometimes in the places near my office in Abiramapuram. I go to these places for a snack in the evening or coffee after work. Most often, I head to Carnival. It’s a small place but offers a range of junk food favourites and cakes. Their pav bhaji, chocolate cake and choco mousse are to die for. Thankfully, I have eaten them only twice or thrice, in consideration of my weight.
Coffee World is also a great place, where you can just sink back into a soft couch and fight the temptation to put your legs up. There’s also a friendly waiter, which helps a lot. But I have been there only thrice or so. Again, to avoid the fattening beverages. Besides, it’s hard to talk with the ice numbing your tongue (funny, but true, isn’t it?).
Eliot’s beach is a great place (of course) especially at night. A potential hangout spot for me, because I haven’t hung out often there with my friends. (Yes.) I also love to hang out near my colleagues’ cabins, chatting with colleague-friends while I am free. (Well, it qualifies as a hangout, at least in my office.)
But the best hangout is in a tiny restaurant called Eatalica, in RA Puram.
The food isn’t great. From what I had, I liked only Dolly Parton and Monica Bellucci (the chocolate milkshake and salad respectively – the way their menu is written probably surpasses the food). But they have an incredibly soft leather sofa set, for one table in a corner, sometimes booked, but usually reserved for anyone who walks in. The cosy corner lets you chill out, sit like a queen and watch those who walk in (condescendingly, if you wish to). And of course, the temptation to put up your legs on the table is there.
Now, why do I need a disco with low lighting when I can have a ball with my friends in these places, chat away without noise in the background, and not think of a wearisome journey home?
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