Not a fall but a leap
The moment that defined 2 years of my life is viewed by my friends and family as senseless and foolish. On not so good days, I would say that I too agree. But not this morning, Today I want to talk about the exhilaration, the beauty and the fear that came with my plunge from a cliff into the Ganges.
It was a company sponsored tour that took me to Shivpuri. A quaint place with sounds of the streaming Ganga and scents of the woods that filter into your tent and fill your senses. A sunny day found me struggling with the waves that rage the river. Here I was fighting my way ahead on a rubber raft..”Paddle to the right! Paddle to the left!!”. I was having the time of my life. Sweet, icy water splashed on the raft; welcoming me to the river; threatening me with its ferocity. And we conquered one rapid after another; forging ahead “ Hu Ha Hu Ha!”. And there we were – at the base of that fateful cliff. Looking at it one thought- “that’s all you got?!” and we ambled our way to the top. “Just stand straight and jump in” was what the instructed said. Simple. Maybe not. At the edge I found my fears resurfacing again. Ahead I saw the lush mountains; below the innocent river. Can it be that hard- I thought to myself. It looks so harmless.
And in a moment both frightening and beautiful; I put my foot ahead.
Hurling towards a river from a height can be a strange experience. You feel like it goes on forever and then in a rude shock the cold water wakes you up- breaking your day dreaming and bringing you back to life. Under the water life looks dreamy again; hues of blue and green, sunlight streaming in and you reach up ..
Air ; blinding light.. Yells and oars shoved your way to help you out. People wrapping you in blankets. Your thought to yourself “ why the hell are my legs shaking!”
After this incident I nursed an injury for a year. But lets leave that for another day.
Today I want you to float with me.
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
The mountain is my mother
My father is the sea
This river is the fountain
Of all that life can be
Swift river from the mountain
Deep river to the sea
Take all my words and leave them
Where the trade winds set them free
Oh, piper on the lonely hill,
Play no sad songs for me
the day has gone, the night comes on.. Its darkness helps me see.
My father is the sea
This river is the fountain
Of all that life can be
Swift river from the mountain
Deep river to the sea
Take all my words and leave them
Where the trade winds set them free
Oh, piper on the lonely hill,
Play no sad songs for me
the day has gone, the night comes on.. Its darkness helps me see.
Monday, November 20, 2006
Yesterday after my afternoon siesta I woke up craving for a nice cup of tea. So I dragged the still sleepy body in blue pyjama’s to the kitchen and put a pot of water to boil. Taking cue from most ‘aromatherapy’ products, I dipped 2 cloves into the boiling water.
It was like the Indian version of the American Beauty, I watched the cloves dance in the fuming water.. Little surges of water appeared from the bottom of the pot, creating ripples all over the pot- the cloves. Connected by some strange bond (the brotherhood of cloves? J ), the cloves danced a silent dance. They clung together for a while and then did the tango, side by side, then apart..making their way around the pot and the ripples of hot water till there came such a time when both of them were tired. They fell by each other’s side. There were not alone for too long and soon were lost in a crowd when the tea leaves came in.
It was like the Indian version of the American Beauty, I watched the cloves dance in the fuming water.. Little surges of water appeared from the bottom of the pot, creating ripples all over the pot- the cloves. Connected by some strange bond (the brotherhood of cloves? J ), the cloves danced a silent dance. They clung together for a while and then did the tango, side by side, then apart..making their way around the pot and the ripples of hot water till there came such a time when both of them were tired. They fell by each other’s side. There were not alone for too long and soon were lost in a crowd when the tea leaves came in.
Monday, October 16, 2006
A Fine Balance
To anyone who hasn’t yet read ‘A Fine Balance’ by Rohinton Mistry, you are really missing on one of the greatest books written by an Indian author.
It was my friend TK who introduced me to the book, she warned me that it was heart wrenching, sad yet fabulous. Now I’m not one to jump and wallow in misery which is not my own (smile)..yet there was something about the foreword of this book which made me take it from her hands and carry it home. And read it through the night, and days after till I hadn’t finished it.
This book is about four characters—Dina Dalal, Ishvar Darji, his nephew Omprakash and a young boy named Maneck. Four diverse people from varied backgrounds who come together, develop a bond and depart from each other lives as dramatically as they came.
A must read for everyone who has a passion for books and compulsory for every Indian- a book to be proud of.
To anyone who hasn’t yet read ‘A Fine Balance’ by Rohinton Mistry, you are really missing on one of the greatest books written by an Indian author.
It was my friend TK who introduced me to the book, she warned me that it was heart wrenching, sad yet fabulous. Now I’m not one to jump and wallow in misery which is not my own (smile)..yet there was something about the foreword of this book which made me take it from her hands and carry it home. And read it through the night, and days after till I hadn’t finished it.
This book is about four characters—Dina Dalal, Ishvar Darji, his nephew Omprakash and a young boy named Maneck. Four diverse people from varied backgrounds who come together, develop a bond and depart from each other lives as dramatically as they came.
A must read for everyone who has a passion for books and compulsory for every Indian- a book to be proud of.
Thursday, October 12, 2006
A Thing called Love
I want to share with the world 2 absolutely beautiful songs about love. They are not the conventional kind. But they've never failed to move me.
Fields of Gold - Sting
Youll remember me when the west wind moves
Upon the fields of barley
Youll forget the sun in his jealous sky
As we walk in the fields of gold
So she took her love
For to gaze awhile
Upon the fields of barley
In his arms she fell as her hair came down
Among the fields of gold
Will you stay with me, will you be my love
Among the fields of barley
We'll forget the sun in his jealous sky
As we lie in the fields of gold
See the west wind move like a lover so
Upon the fields of barley
Feel her body rise
when you kiss her mouth
Among the fields of goldI
never made promises lightly
And there have been some that Ive broken
But I swear in the days still left
We'll walk in the fields of gold
We'll walk in the fields of gold
Many years have passed since those summer days
Among the fields of barley
See the children run as the sun goes down
Among the fields of gold
Youll remember me when the west wind moves
Upon the fields of barley
You can tell the sun in his jealous sky
When we walked in the fields of gold
Come Undone – Duran Duran
Mine, immaculate dream,
made breath and skin,
Ive been waiting for you,
Signed, with a home tattoo,
happy birthday to you was created for you.
cant ever keep from falling apart.. at the seams
cant believe youre taking my heart.. to pieces
Ahh, itll take a little time, might take a little crime
to come undone
Now well try to stay blind, to the hope and fear outside,
Hey child, stay wilder than the wind
And blow me in to cry.
Who do you need? Who do you love?
When you come undone.
Words, playing me deja vu,
like a radio tune
I swear Ive heard before,
Chill, is it something real, or the magic Im feeding off your fingers
Lost, in a snow filled sky,
we'll make it alright, to come undone,
Now well try to stay blind, to the hope and fear outside,
Hey child, stay wilder than the wind -And blow me in to cry
I want to share with the world 2 absolutely beautiful songs about love. They are not the conventional kind. But they've never failed to move me.
Fields of Gold - Sting
Youll remember me when the west wind moves
Upon the fields of barley
Youll forget the sun in his jealous sky
As we walk in the fields of gold
So she took her love
For to gaze awhile
Upon the fields of barley
In his arms she fell as her hair came down
Among the fields of gold
Will you stay with me, will you be my love
Among the fields of barley
We'll forget the sun in his jealous sky
As we lie in the fields of gold
See the west wind move like a lover so
Upon the fields of barley
Feel her body rise
when you kiss her mouth
Among the fields of goldI
never made promises lightly
And there have been some that Ive broken
But I swear in the days still left
We'll walk in the fields of gold
We'll walk in the fields of gold
Many years have passed since those summer days
Among the fields of barley
See the children run as the sun goes down
Among the fields of gold
Youll remember me when the west wind moves
Upon the fields of barley
You can tell the sun in his jealous sky
When we walked in the fields of gold
Come Undone – Duran Duran
Mine, immaculate dream,
made breath and skin,
Ive been waiting for you,
Signed, with a home tattoo,
happy birthday to you was created for you.
cant ever keep from falling apart.. at the seams
cant believe youre taking my heart.. to pieces
Ahh, itll take a little time, might take a little crime
to come undone
Now well try to stay blind, to the hope and fear outside,
Hey child, stay wilder than the wind
And blow me in to cry.
Who do you need? Who do you love?
When you come undone.
Words, playing me deja vu,
like a radio tune
I swear Ive heard before,
Chill, is it something real, or the magic Im feeding off your fingers
Lost, in a snow filled sky,
we'll make it alright, to come undone,
Now well try to stay blind, to the hope and fear outside,
Hey child, stay wilder than the wind -And blow me in to cry
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Art Speak
Starry Night by Vincent Van Gogh has risen to the peak of artistic achievements. Although Van Gogh sold only one painting in his life, the aftermath of his work is enormous.
Starry Night is one of the most well known images in modern culture as well as being one of the most replicated and sought after prints. From Don McLean's song 'Starry, Starry Night' (Based on the Painting), to the endless number of merchandise products sporting this image, it is nearly impossible to shy away from this amazing painting. One may begin to ask what features within the painting are responsible for its ever growing popularity. There are actually several main aspects that intrigue those who view this image, and each factor affects each individual differently.
The aspects will be described below:
1. There is the night sky filled with swirling clouds, stars ablaze with their own luminescence, and a bright cresset moon. Although the features are exaggerated, this is a scene we can all relate to, and also one that most individuals feel comfortable and at ease with. This sky keeps the viewer's eyes moving about the painting, following the curves and creating a visual dot to dot with the stars. This movement keeps the onlooker involved in the painting while the other factors take hold.
2. Below the rolling hills of the horizon lies a small town. There is a peaceful essence flowing from the structures. Perhaps the cool dark colors and the fiery windows spark memories of our own warm childhood years filled with imagination of what exists in the night and dark starry skies. The center point of the town is the tall steeple of the church, reigning largely over the smaller buildings. This steeple casts down a sense of stability onto the town, and also creates a sense of size and seclusion.
3. To the left of the painting there is a massive dark structure that develops an even greater sense of size and isolation. This structure is magnificent when compared to the scale of other objects in the painting. The curving lines mirror that of the sky and create the sensation of depth in the painting. This structure also allows the viewer to interpret what it is. From a mountain to a leafy bush, the analysis of this formation is wide and full of variety. Van Gogh painted Starry Night while in an Asylum at Saint-Remy in 1889. According to VGgallery.com: "his behavior was very erratic at the time, due to the severity of his attacks. Unlike most of Van Gogh's works, Starry Night was painted from memory and not outdoors as was Vincent's preference. This may, in part, explain why the emotional impact of the work is so much more powerful than many of Van Gogh's other works from the same period."
Starry Night by Vincent Van Gogh has risen to the peak of artistic achievements. Although Van Gogh sold only one painting in his life, the aftermath of his work is enormous.
Starry Night is one of the most well known images in modern culture as well as being one of the most replicated and sought after prints. From Don McLean's song 'Starry, Starry Night' (Based on the Painting), to the endless number of merchandise products sporting this image, it is nearly impossible to shy away from this amazing painting. One may begin to ask what features within the painting are responsible for its ever growing popularity. There are actually several main aspects that intrigue those who view this image, and each factor affects each individual differently.
The aspects will be described below:
1. There is the night sky filled with swirling clouds, stars ablaze with their own luminescence, and a bright cresset moon. Although the features are exaggerated, this is a scene we can all relate to, and also one that most individuals feel comfortable and at ease with. This sky keeps the viewer's eyes moving about the painting, following the curves and creating a visual dot to dot with the stars. This movement keeps the onlooker involved in the painting while the other factors take hold.
2. Below the rolling hills of the horizon lies a small town. There is a peaceful essence flowing from the structures. Perhaps the cool dark colors and the fiery windows spark memories of our own warm childhood years filled with imagination of what exists in the night and dark starry skies. The center point of the town is the tall steeple of the church, reigning largely over the smaller buildings. This steeple casts down a sense of stability onto the town, and also creates a sense of size and seclusion.
3. To the left of the painting there is a massive dark structure that develops an even greater sense of size and isolation. This structure is magnificent when compared to the scale of other objects in the painting. The curving lines mirror that of the sky and create the sensation of depth in the painting. This structure also allows the viewer to interpret what it is. From a mountain to a leafy bush, the analysis of this formation is wide and full of variety. Van Gogh painted Starry Night while in an Asylum at Saint-Remy in 1889. According to VGgallery.com: "his behavior was very erratic at the time, due to the severity of his attacks. Unlike most of Van Gogh's works, Starry Night was painted from memory and not outdoors as was Vincent's preference. This may, in part, explain why the emotional impact of the work is so much more powerful than many of Van Gogh's other works from the same period."
8 Deodar Street
It was the rains that cheered him up. A sky full of moody dark clouds, leaves swaying to the sweet rhythm of the wind, children delighted at the thought of missing yet another day of school.
Why would anyone say the rains made them gloomy?
It had now been 4 months in Kolkata. Coming from a very conservative north Indian upbringing, he had found it hard to digest the comfort with poverty that people in this city seemed to have. While in the swanky streets of Punjab it was almost unheard of not to see a couple of brand new Toyotas, Kolkata screamed of noisy yellow taxis and the grunts of rickshaw pullers.
Now in sitting in his plush office he thought of how ironic life had become. Here he was with the kind of job his Paaji would have sold his soul for, back in the day, yet he had no means of really enjoying it. Life gets lonesome for bachelors traveling out to strange lands in pursuit of a rewarding career and his was no different. And now as he watched out his window at the hustle bustle of the city, he realized more than ever the pain and sadness of separation.
Another Day
Waking up at 4 am was never a problem with her. The mornings were quiet and peaceful, a stark contrast to how her day would progress. Breakfast, rush hour traffic, honking cars and blinking red traffic signals. Life for the modern woman they call it now, but truth be told, the job just seemed like another burden pulling one down.
It was not always like this. She had once been the wild child, life of the party with a certain effervescent quality that all around her wanted to imitate. No job was too difficult, no dream too big.. there was always room for more friends and they came easy. Like a moth to the flame. There are very few who are blessed with an arresting face as well as the intelligence to hold a persons interest. And she definitely fitted the bill.
It was the rains that cheered him up. A sky full of moody dark clouds, leaves swaying to the sweet rhythm of the wind, children delighted at the thought of missing yet another day of school.
Why would anyone say the rains made them gloomy?
It had now been 4 months in Kolkata. Coming from a very conservative north Indian upbringing, he had found it hard to digest the comfort with poverty that people in this city seemed to have. While in the swanky streets of Punjab it was almost unheard of not to see a couple of brand new Toyotas, Kolkata screamed of noisy yellow taxis and the grunts of rickshaw pullers.
Now in sitting in his plush office he thought of how ironic life had become. Here he was with the kind of job his Paaji would have sold his soul for, back in the day, yet he had no means of really enjoying it. Life gets lonesome for bachelors traveling out to strange lands in pursuit of a rewarding career and his was no different. And now as he watched out his window at the hustle bustle of the city, he realized more than ever the pain and sadness of separation.
Another Day
Waking up at 4 am was never a problem with her. The mornings were quiet and peaceful, a stark contrast to how her day would progress. Breakfast, rush hour traffic, honking cars and blinking red traffic signals. Life for the modern woman they call it now, but truth be told, the job just seemed like another burden pulling one down.
It was not always like this. She had once been the wild child, life of the party with a certain effervescent quality that all around her wanted to imitate. No job was too difficult, no dream too big.. there was always room for more friends and they came easy. Like a moth to the flame. There are very few who are blessed with an arresting face as well as the intelligence to hold a persons interest. And she definitely fitted the bill.
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
Of Dancing girls and Kite-runners
I have been introduced to a new wave of writing.
Its not the sad glum stories.. Boy born in deprived surroundings, boy never gets education, boy abused.. Now there is a new breed of writers who give this angle to books a new spin. Take for example- Louise Brown’s The Dancing girls of Lahore. Maha is a prostitute whose life is a series of sleeping pills, being cheated by her clientele, and a desire to be richer by pimping her own daughters. Mind you this is not fiction. This is true lives lived by many in the red light districts of Lahore. Now for the interesting part, not once in the book is the situation pitied, yet the author strives to portray the characters as strong and independent. Then there is the bestseller ‘The Kite runner’, a story to me of guilt and cowardice turned into acts of courage- life coming to full circle and karma. Here too, there are no excuses in the book of wrongs committed. The story traverses its path to reveal that wrong can be made right.
Its nice to see that lives are not pitied and even the most evil deeds can seek absolute redemption.
Even though it may only be in fiction.
I have been introduced to a new wave of writing.
Its not the sad glum stories.. Boy born in deprived surroundings, boy never gets education, boy abused.. Now there is a new breed of writers who give this angle to books a new spin. Take for example- Louise Brown’s The Dancing girls of Lahore. Maha is a prostitute whose life is a series of sleeping pills, being cheated by her clientele, and a desire to be richer by pimping her own daughters. Mind you this is not fiction. This is true lives lived by many in the red light districts of Lahore. Now for the interesting part, not once in the book is the situation pitied, yet the author strives to portray the characters as strong and independent. Then there is the bestseller ‘The Kite runner’, a story to me of guilt and cowardice turned into acts of courage- life coming to full circle and karma. Here too, there are no excuses in the book of wrongs committed. The story traverses its path to reveal that wrong can be made right.
Its nice to see that lives are not pitied and even the most evil deeds can seek absolute redemption.
Even though it may only be in fiction.
Play On
If music be the food of life.. Play on.
I can't remember the fist time I heard a song and went WOW! For as long as I can remember..it has been this way. An obsession. Love. Passion. Music has made me happy, lifted me in times of trouble and even helped me say F off! (Remember 'We don't need no education..?' or 'I hate everything about you'?)
To me the greatest invention of our times is the Ipod without which my morning drive to office, or my evening musings over lonely dinners would be incomplete.
My song on flights to someplace is however this one called Zephyr Song by RHCP- can't say why though i think its because I've always imagined myself in a strange contraption of a jet whenever I hear it.
Zephyr Song – Red Hot Chilli Peppers
Can I get your hand to write on
Just a piece of lead to bite on
What am I to fly my kite on
Do you want to flash your light on
Take a look its on display - for you
Coming down
No
not today
Did you meet your fortune teller
Get it off with no propellor
Do it up its always stellar
What a way to finally smell her
Pick it up its not to strong - for you
Take a piece and pass it on
Fly away on my zephyr
I feel it more then ever
And in this perfect weather
Well find a place together
Fly on my wing
Riddlin on liberator
Find a way to be a skater
Rev it up to levitator
Super manly aviator
Take a look its on display - for you
Coming down no not today
Fly away on my zephyr
If music be the food of life.. Play on.
I can't remember the fist time I heard a song and went WOW! For as long as I can remember..it has been this way. An obsession. Love. Passion. Music has made me happy, lifted me in times of trouble and even helped me say F off! (Remember 'We don't need no education..?' or 'I hate everything about you'?)
To me the greatest invention of our times is the Ipod without which my morning drive to office, or my evening musings over lonely dinners would be incomplete.
My song on flights to someplace is however this one called Zephyr Song by RHCP- can't say why though i think its because I've always imagined myself in a strange contraption of a jet whenever I hear it.
Zephyr Song – Red Hot Chilli Peppers
Can I get your hand to write on
Just a piece of lead to bite on
What am I to fly my kite on
Do you want to flash your light on
Take a look its on display - for you
Coming down
No
not today
Did you meet your fortune teller
Get it off with no propellor
Do it up its always stellar
What a way to finally smell her
Pick it up its not to strong - for you
Take a piece and pass it on
Fly away on my zephyr
I feel it more then ever
And in this perfect weather
Well find a place together
Fly on my wing
Riddlin on liberator
Find a way to be a skater
Rev it up to levitator
Super manly aviator
Take a look its on display - for you
Coming down no not today
Fly away on my zephyr
Friday, September 22, 2006
The gorgeous Ls - Leh and Ladakh
Its what dreams are made of. Gorgeous mountains in every shade of blue, white, brown. Landscapes out of heaven.
I have never been there and have always thought of myself as someone who loves the sea. Beaches and sand. Thats me. But of late I came across a photoblog of someone who had trekked the vast expanse of Leh. I was swept away. transported to a place and time I never knew. Can something so beautiful be real or was it just some photoshoped images by someone insanely brilliant.
As Indians, most of us dream of backpacking in Europe, or catching a flight to the US, Australia.. I think we hugely discredit the beauty that exists in our own country. Come to think of it - we have the backwaters of Kerala.. Wildlife sanctuaries in Periyar and Corbett, The mountains, the sea, cultural Rajathan and the beautiful architecture it presents..And most of us haven't really explored the options available.
I just got off the phone with the travel desk who tell me that flying to Leh will cost me 15,000 one way. It seems unfair and i'm heartbroken. The roads and trains don't prove an option as I had this back unjury last year which has made it nearly impossible to take the strain of such travel.
I am hoping I will be successful in organising this rendevouz with the mountains soon. Each time I look at my desktop (which now has a beautiful picture of Leh), I can feel the crisp wind in my hair..
Its what dreams are made of. Gorgeous mountains in every shade of blue, white, brown. Landscapes out of heaven.
I have never been there and have always thought of myself as someone who loves the sea. Beaches and sand. Thats me. But of late I came across a photoblog of someone who had trekked the vast expanse of Leh. I was swept away. transported to a place and time I never knew. Can something so beautiful be real or was it just some photoshoped images by someone insanely brilliant.
As Indians, most of us dream of backpacking in Europe, or catching a flight to the US, Australia.. I think we hugely discredit the beauty that exists in our own country. Come to think of it - we have the backwaters of Kerala.. Wildlife sanctuaries in Periyar and Corbett, The mountains, the sea, cultural Rajathan and the beautiful architecture it presents..And most of us haven't really explored the options available.
I just got off the phone with the travel desk who tell me that flying to Leh will cost me 15,000 one way. It seems unfair and i'm heartbroken. The roads and trains don't prove an option as I had this back unjury last year which has made it nearly impossible to take the strain of such travel.
I am hoping I will be successful in organising this rendevouz with the mountains soon. Each time I look at my desktop (which now has a beautiful picture of Leh), I can feel the crisp wind in my hair..
Thursday, September 21, 2006
From Gods' own country
Statutory warning : If you are not South Indian it might be pointlessreading further.
Extra Statutory warning : If you are a Mallu with the pride of Kerala inyour loins DON'T read any further.
It has been a well kept secret for eons, shrouded in mystery and mazes ofdeceit, but finally Itty Boben Jacob Elias Kuruvilla from Pazhookaville,near Thelmasherry, Kerala has consented to let us publish this classifiedMallu formula, on the naming of Mallu christian kids.
1. Select a combination of both the mother's and father's names. Eg: Sureshand Sharon = Susha or Joseph and Beena = Jobi.
2. The addition of a 'mon' (meaning son) or 'mol' (meaning daughter) isoptional. eg: Sushamol, Jobimon
3. To attach a modern anglicised feel to the names, the mol or mon can bereplaced with boy or girl. eg: Jobiboy, Sushagirl.
4. For the politically correct Keralite family, mol and mon can be replacedby the universal 'kutty'(child), which can be used for both boys and girls!
Eg: Jokutty, SusikuttyEven parents having combination names can still give their children suitablenames eg: Libi and Jobi = Lijo
However, in the scenario where the parents already have combination namesthat cannot form more comprehensible child names. Eg: Itty and Amukutty,would produce only Itam (which doesn't even sound like a name) or Amit(which is like Northie and stuff!!!!), thena. use an English word like Baby, Merry, Titty, Pearly, Smiley, Anarchy,etc.b. use a combination of two English names that you think sound cool (butnever cool enough) like Meredith + Gina = Megi, or Sharon + Darlene =Sharlenec.
Use a name from the Bible (and not Nebuchadnezzar! Use one that evenvelliammachi can pronounce!) like Jacob, Sam, John, Joseph, Mathew, or Jijo!d. Use a name that sounds like a cuss word but isn't.
Eg: Boben, Prussy,Shagi, JustinTimberlake etc.Note: The use of the letter 'j' is useful in the naming of sibling wherenames that sound alike are a novelty. Eg: Ajji, Sajji, Majji, Bhajji andNimajji, or Sijo, Lijo, Jijo, Anjo, Panjo, Banjo.Q.
What do you call a mallu kid who sticks his nose into other people'sbusiness?
A. Pokemon!!!!!
Statutory warning : If you are not South Indian it might be pointlessreading further.
Extra Statutory warning : If you are a Mallu with the pride of Kerala inyour loins DON'T read any further.
It has been a well kept secret for eons, shrouded in mystery and mazes ofdeceit, but finally Itty Boben Jacob Elias Kuruvilla from Pazhookaville,near Thelmasherry, Kerala has consented to let us publish this classifiedMallu formula, on the naming of Mallu christian kids.
1. Select a combination of both the mother's and father's names. Eg: Sureshand Sharon = Susha or Joseph and Beena = Jobi.
2. The addition of a 'mon' (meaning son) or 'mol' (meaning daughter) isoptional. eg: Sushamol, Jobimon
3. To attach a modern anglicised feel to the names, the mol or mon can bereplaced with boy or girl. eg: Jobiboy, Sushagirl.
4. For the politically correct Keralite family, mol and mon can be replacedby the universal 'kutty'(child), which can be used for both boys and girls!
Eg: Jokutty, SusikuttyEven parents having combination names can still give their children suitablenames eg: Libi and Jobi = Lijo
However, in the scenario where the parents already have combination namesthat cannot form more comprehensible child names. Eg: Itty and Amukutty,would produce only Itam (which doesn't even sound like a name) or Amit(which is like Northie and stuff!!!!), thena. use an English word like Baby, Merry, Titty, Pearly, Smiley, Anarchy,etc.b. use a combination of two English names that you think sound cool (butnever cool enough) like Meredith + Gina = Megi, or Sharon + Darlene =Sharlenec.
Use a name from the Bible (and not Nebuchadnezzar! Use one that evenvelliammachi can pronounce!) like Jacob, Sam, John, Joseph, Mathew, or Jijo!d. Use a name that sounds like a cuss word but isn't.
Eg: Boben, Prussy,Shagi, JustinTimberlake etc.Note: The use of the letter 'j' is useful in the naming of sibling wherenames that sound alike are a novelty. Eg: Ajji, Sajji, Majji, Bhajji andNimajji, or Sijo, Lijo, Jijo, Anjo, Panjo, Banjo.Q.
What do you call a mallu kid who sticks his nose into other people'sbusiness?
A. Pokemon!!!!!
Sunday, September 17, 2006
A legend called JRD Tata
As some would say ' they don't make 'em like him, anymore.
What a pity.
It was probably the April of 1974. Bangalore was getting warm and gulmohars were blooming at the IISc campus. I was the only girl in my postgraduate department and was staying at the ladies' hostel. Other girls were pursuing research in different departments of Science. I was looking forward to going abroad to complete a doctorate in computer science. I had been offered scholarships from Universities in the US. I had not thought of taking up a job in India. One day, while on the way to my hostel from our lecture-hall complex, I saw an advertisement on the notice board. It was a standard job-requirement notice from the famous automobile company Telco (now Tata Motors). It stated that the company required young, bright engineers, hardworking and with an excellent academic background, etc. At the bottom was a small line: "Lady candidates need not apply." I read it and was very upset. For the first time in my life I was up against gender discrimination. Though I was not keen on taking up the job, I saw it as a challenge. I had done extremely well in academics, better than most of my male peers. Little did I know then that in real life academic excellence is not enough to be successful. After reading the notice I went fuming to my room. I decided to inform the topmost person in Telco's management about the injustice the company was perpetrating. I got a postcard and started to write, but there was a problem: I did not know who headed Telco. I thought it must be one of the Tatas. I knew JRD Tata was the head of the Tata Group; I had seen his pictures in newspapers (actually, Sumant Moolgaokar was the company's chairman then). I took the card, addressed it to JRD and started writing. To this day I remember clearly what I wrote. "The great Tatas have always been pioneers. They are the people who started the basic infrastructure industries in India, such as iron and steel, chemicals, textiles and locomotives. They have cared for higher education in India since 1900 and they were responsible for the establishment of the Indian Institute of Science. Fortunately, I study there. But I am surprised how a company such as Telco is discriminating on the basis of gender." I posted the letter and forgot about it. Less than 10 days later, I received a telegram stating that I had to appear for an interview at Telco's Pune facility at the company's expense. I was taken aback by the telegram. My hostel mate told me I should use the opportunity to go to Pune free of cost and buy them the famous Pune saris for cheap! I collected Rs 30 each from everyone who wanted a sari. When I look back, I feel like laughing at the reasons for my going, but back then they seemed good enough to make the trip. It was my first visit to Pune and I immediately fell in love with the city. To this day it remains dear to me. I feel as much at home in Pune as I do in Hubli, my hometown. The place changed my life in so many ways. As directed, I went to Telco's Pimpri office for the interview. There were six people on the panel and I realised then that this was serious business. "This is the girl who wrote to JRD," I heard somebody whisper as soon as I entered the room. By then I knew for sure that I would not get the job. The realisation abolished all fear from my mind, so I was rather cool while the interview was being conducted. Even before the interview started, I reckoned the panel was biased, so I told them, rather impolitely, "I hope this is only a technical interview." They were taken aback by my rudeness, and even today I am ashamed about my attitude. The panel asked me technical questions and I answered all of them. Then an elderly gentleman with an affectionate voice told me, "Do you know why we said lady candidates need not apply? The reason is that we have never employed any ladies on the shop floor. This is not a co-ed college; this is a factory. When it comes to academics, you are a first ranker throughout. We appreciate that, but people like you should work in research laboratories." I was a young girl from small-town Hubli. My world had been a limited place. I did not know the ways of large corporate houses and their difficulties, so I answered, "But you must start somewhere, otherwise no woman will ever be able to work in your factories." Finally, after a long interview, I was told I had been successful. So this was what the future had in store for me. Never had I thought I would take up a job in Pune. I met a shy young man from Karnataka there, we became good friends and we got married. It was only after joining Telco that I realized who JRD was: the uncrowned king of Indian industry. Now I was scared, but I did not get to meet him till I was transferred to Bombay. One day I had to show some reports to Mr Moolgaokar, our chairman, who we all knew as SM. I was in his office on the first floor of Bombay House (the Tata headquarters) when, suddenly JRD walked in. That was the first time I saw "appro JRD". Appro means "our" in Gujarati. This was the affectionate term by which people at Bombay House called him. I was feeling very nervous, remembering my postcard episode. SM introduced me nicely, "Jeh (that's what his close associates called him), this young woman is an engineer and that too a postgraduate. She is the first woman to work on the Telco shop floor." JRD looked at me. I was praying he would not ask me any questions about my interview (or the postcard that preceded it). Thankfully, he didn't. Instead, he remarked. "It is nice that girls are getting into engineering in our country. By the way, what is your name?" "When I joined Telco I was Sudha Kulkarni, Sir," I replied. "Now I am Sudha Murthy." He smiled and kindly smile and started a discussion with SM. As for me, I almost ran out of the room. After that I used to see JRD on and off. He was the Tata Group chairman and I was merely an engineer. There was nothing that we had in common. I was in awe of him. One day I was waiting for Murthy, my husband, to pick me up after office hours. To my surprise I saw JRD standing next to me. I did not know how to react. Yet again I started worrying about that postcard. Looking back, I realise JRD had forgotten about it. It must have been a small incident for him, but not so for me. "Young lady, why are you here?" he asked. "Office time is over." I said, "Sir, I'm waiting for my husband to come and pick me up." JRD said, "It is getting dark and there's no one in the corridor. I'll wait with you till your husband comes." I was quite used to waiting for Murthy, but having JRD waiting alongside made me extremely uncomfortable. I was nervous. Out of the corner of my eye I looked at him. He wore a simple white pant and shirt. He was old, yet his face was glowing. There wasn't any air of superiority about him. I was thinking, "Look at this person. He is a chairman, a well-respected man in our country and he is waiting for the sake of an ordinary employee." Then I saw Murthy and I rushed out. JRD called and said, "Young lady, tell your husband never to make his wife wait again." In 1982 I had to resign from my job at Telco. I was reluctant to go, but I really did not have a choice. I was coming down the steps of Bombay House after wrapping up my final settlement when I saw JRD coming up. He was absorbed in thought. I wanted to say goodbye to him, so I stopped. He saw me and paused. Gently, he said, "So what are you doing, Mrs Kulkarni?" (That was the way he always addressed me.) "Sir, I am leaving Telco." "Where are you going?" he asked. "Pune, Sir. My husband is starting a company called Infosys and I'm shifting to Pune." "Oh! And what will you do when you are successful." "Sir, I don't know whether we will be successful." "Never start with diffidence," he advised me. "Always start with confidence. When you are successful you must give back to society. Society gives us so much; we must reciprocate. I wish you all the best." Then JRD continued walking up the stairs. I stood there for what seemed like a millennium. That was the last time I saw him alive. Many years later I met Ratan Tata in the same Bombay House, occupying the chair JRD once did. I told him of my many sweet memories of working with Telco. Later, he wrote to me, "It was nice hearing about Jeh from you. The sad part is that he's not alive to see you today." I consider JRD a great man because, despite being an extremely busy person, he valued one postcard written by a young girl seeking justice. He must have received thousands of letters everyday. He could have thrown mine away, but he didn't do that. He respected the intentions of that unknown girl, who had neither influence nor money, and gave her an opportunity in his company. He did not merely give her a job; he changed her life and mindset forever. Close to 50 per cent of the students in today's engineering colleges are girls. And there are women on the shop floor in many industry segments. I see these changes and I think of JRD. If at all time stops and asks me what I want from life, I would say I wish JRD were alive today to see how the company we started has grown. He would have enjoyed it wholeheartedly. My love and respect for the House of Tata remains undiminished by the passage of time. I always looked up to JRD. I saw him as a role model for his simplicity, his generosity, his kindness and the care he took of his employees. Those blue eyes always reminded me of the sky; they had the same vastness and magnificence.
(Sudha Murthy is a widely published writer and chairperson of the Infosys Foundation involved in a number of social development initiatives. Infosys chairman Narayana Murthy is her husband.)
Thursday, September 14, 2006
Stereotypes
Reading The Dancing Girls of Lahore is proving to bend the mind to new thoughts.
In the modern and feminist world we often look upon the purdah/ burkha as a form of male dominance. However, Louise’s book seems to have a far different perspective – set in the red light (pleasure district) of Lahore, Louise brings insights into the dichotomy that exists within the place. Can a woman who trades her body for a living also be said to have respect esp. in a society which ridicules such professions? The answer is a surprising yes. Even when a prostitute wears a burkha it is a sign of honour and pride. The black veil also serves as a tool of mystique and is used to show high upbringing or status. I find this whole concept fascinating and kudos to Louise for portraying these thoughts so beautifully.
Reading The Dancing Girls of Lahore is proving to bend the mind to new thoughts.
In the modern and feminist world we often look upon the purdah/ burkha as a form of male dominance. However, Louise’s book seems to have a far different perspective – set in the red light (pleasure district) of Lahore, Louise brings insights into the dichotomy that exists within the place. Can a woman who trades her body for a living also be said to have respect esp. in a society which ridicules such professions? The answer is a surprising yes. Even when a prostitute wears a burkha it is a sign of honour and pride. The black veil also serves as a tool of mystique and is used to show high upbringing or status. I find this whole concept fascinating and kudos to Louise for portraying these thoughts so beautifully.
Lunch Room Chatter
Each day at 1 noon, we move to a crummy room called the 'mess' to satify our taste buds and cravings. Each day me and my colleagues spread out the table with delicacies (prepared by other family members at home) an scrutinise flavour, quantity..the works. The key highlight however are discussions on arbid, totally unimportant and often senseless topics. These range from who like south indian food versus other cuisines, to what movies one must and must not watch.
Often I sit as a silent spectator just watching people as they indulge in such fancies. One occasions like these I have an immense craving of another kind. (not to bang someone on the head with a stick!! ;) )
But of conversations, about books, art and culture...
Each day at 1 noon, we move to a crummy room called the 'mess' to satify our taste buds and cravings. Each day me and my colleagues spread out the table with delicacies (prepared by other family members at home) an scrutinise flavour, quantity..the works. The key highlight however are discussions on arbid, totally unimportant and often senseless topics. These range from who like south indian food versus other cuisines, to what movies one must and must not watch.
Often I sit as a silent spectator just watching people as they indulge in such fancies. One occasions like these I have an immense craving of another kind. (not to bang someone on the head with a stick!! ;) )
But of conversations, about books, art and culture...
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
I am currently reading The dancing girls of Lahore by Lousie Brown. Its a fascinating journey into the life of Maha, a dancing girl by profession who lives in the Heera Mandi of Lahore. The author brings in aspects of sociology and takes us on a journey not only into the lives of these women working in the pleasure district of Lahore, but also details the history of how the place came to be.
Will write more when i am through with it!!
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