Once upon a time...I hated ENGLISH !!

(The names of some of the characters in this post have been changed to protect privacy :-) )

One of my colleagues saw my handwriting and exclaimed in surprise, “Aren’t girls supposed to have beautiful handwriting?” The notions that a guy has in his head about girls can be weirdly endless. I didn’t react to that comment as only I knew the story behind my handwriting.

There was a time when the English language was my worst enemy. Little did I know back then, that there is more nastiness left to be experienced in this world than the trivial issues I faced during my school years with the academic subject called English.

I had to change schools after my 2nd grade. The new school was one step ahead in everything is what I felt. All the students had already transitioned into the cursive style of writing. I had just joined the 3rd grade and my handwriting was still more of block or printed writing. Back in my old school, I often used to get a gold star(s) on my notebook from all my teachers for my handwriting. All of that was about to change.

Daisy ma’am appeared to be a sweet class teacher to me at first. She did notice my block writing style and she told me that I can gradually make the transition to cursive writing and that there is no hurry. Like any other 9-year-old kid, I believed her completely.

One fine day, Daisy Ma’am seemed to have had a bad day, either personally or with work. She was snapping at everyone at any error that came her way. She was correcting our notebooks and while doing so, she opened my notebook. I think my handwriting irked her quite a bit and she called out my name and sternly told me that from tomorrow onwards, I had to adopt the cursive writing style. On hearing this, I felt lost for quite a while. As I was at my obedient best in those days, the very next day, I changed the way I wrote English. Frankly, my English began to look like Arabic!! I used to join the letters in any way I could so that they would not look like block writing. And the end result was an absolute disaster. The beautiful handwriting I once had was there no more.

Daisy Ma’am never commented on my change of handwriting and so I thought she was satisfied with what I had done. This change alarmed my mother a lot and she was sad to see the ugly transition. 3rd grade passed by and so did 4th grade. Except for occasional comments from teachers that my handwriting is not legible, I did not bother to change my handwriting and the teachers didn’t seem to care much as long as I had content in what I wrote. I also scored quite decently in the subject.

It was in my 5th grade, that I found the English subject had become a notch tougher than what I had come across so far. My performance started to degrade very gradually and so did my handwriting. To make things worse, my English teacher, Freya Ma’am had an immediate aversion to me or my handwriting – I was not sure. She used to decrease 4 to 5 marks for handwriting alone, that too only for me in class. I felt a wave of discrimination hit me. During that academic year, one of the English exams was tough and I had never expected to fail in the subject. When I got my paper, I realised that I had lost 5 marks for bad handwriting alone!! If I had got those 5 marks, I would have passed the exam easily.

Being the naïve and timid girl that I was back then, it took me a lot of time to muster up the courage to walk up to Freya Ma’am and defend my case. I felt it was unfair for me to lose marks like this as I knew I was not that weak in English, it had to be something else and I knew that my handwriting would be one of the reasons. All she told me was that I had to improve and when I asked how I could go about doing the same, she had no tips to offer me. I felt terribly dejected and a rebel inside me began to grow.

Mummy had to struggle to get me to study English as I thought that there was no use in taking that subject seriously. Vinita who was one of my close friends back then in school shared a few tips on how to write more legibly and that helped me a lot. However, there was no element of beauty in my handwriting. 5th grade passed by somehow but unfortunately, my attitude towards the English subject did not change.

To my disappointment, I discovered that Freya Ma’am yet again was my English teacher in the 6th grade and with that, I concluded that year's academic performance in English. It was during this year (1995) that I joined the school athletic team and was termed as a ‘promising athlete'. I enjoyed that fame a lot that year, surprising and stunning my opponents and friends with my performance. During these days, I often had to miss many classes to spend time to practice for my athletic events during school hours. I used to rejoice whenever I used to miss the English class.

After the summer break, we were informed that Freya Ma’am had resigned and a new teacher was going to take the English class. Although I did heave a sigh of relief, I did not expect much of my interest towards the English language to change. Madhu Ma’am was the new English teacher. She was a very pleasant lady and soon became every student's favourite teacher. Unfortunately, all this did not change my attitude towards learning English.

One day, as usual, after the practice I stepped into an ongoing English class. Madhu ma’am smiled at me and asked, "Maria, how was your practice session today?” I was completely taken by surprise and mumbled “Practice session was good”. For the sake of those people who think I am a chatterbox now, I would like to let you know that back then, I was an introvert and a person of few words.

Also back then, students participating in sports were considered to be poor academic performers. My coach used to tell me that I was an exception in this regard but some teachers expressed subtle dislike towards me because I participated in athletics which left me bewildered many a time. Madhu ma’am and her interest in my extra-curricular activities was heartwarming. I gradually started looking forward to these moments and in turn my attitude towards her subject also gradually changed.

Oral recitation in front of the class had always been a nightmare back then. I could never open up my mouth even to ask a question in class. Madhu ma’am noticed this sort of stage fright that I had and often calmed me down whenever I blanked out in between recitations. A few snickering students used to get me nervous but Madhu ma’am never followed their cue and often gave me a second chance and I used to finish off the recitation somehow and make a run for my seat.

My mother noticed that my marks in English had improved a lot and was very happy to observe this change. But the best was yet to come. The results of the final exam were announced and I scored a whopping 93 which also happened to be the highest score in the entire sixth grade. Two other students also scored the same. Every year the school awards the toppers of every subject in every grade and only one topper in each subject would be awarded. To my joy, I found out that I was selected out of the three who scored the same as I was the only one out of the three who was active in extra-curricular as well as academics.

My mother was stunned beyond words as to how an ‘English’ rebel like me managed to achieve this. The year 1995 was a year of ‘highs’. I am extremely grateful to Madhu ma’am for bringing about a change in my attitude and for proving gracefully that a little ‘Love and Care’ is all that takes to conquer or overcome anything!

Image Courtesy - www.cartoonstock.com

Paavam Britney

Recently on TV, I saw Britney Spears' first music video - (Hit Me) Baby One More Time. This song was a huge hit back in 1999 and a popular video often viewed at home by me, Anto and mummy. The video reminded me of an almost forgotten memory and reminiscing on the same brought a smile on my face or rather it was more of a giggle.

It was the time Grandma used to stay with us in Cochin. That means we had a different set of ground rules set by Dad to be followed as far as television viewing in her presence was concerned. We were not to watch MTV, Channel V, VH1 or any other English channels which would alarm the elders in the house, with specific reference to Grandma. Of course, this decision was not taken in the event of any instance that had alarmed Grandma in the past; I think it was more like my parents did not want to take the risk of anything happening at all.

One day, I was quickly browsing through the ‘forbidden’ TV channels before Grandma came to the hall when I came across Britney’s music video – Baby One More Time. I watched it for a minute or two and before I realised, Grandma had come and sat in front of the TV. I immediately changed the channel to some black and white Malayalam movie. But she insisted on switching back to what I was watching. Hesitantly, I changed the channel keeping one eye on Mummy who was giving me a look of disapproval. I watched my Grandma’s expressions and reactions. As usual, there was hardly any reaction from her on watching the video. She ended up seeing the video a couple more times during that week and made it quite clear that she did not want to see anything ‘Black and White’ much to my amusement and astonishment of my parents.

By the end of the week, it looked like Grandma didn't mind watching the Britney Spears video any number of times. One day, when the video almost ended, Grandma said, "Paavam kutty aazhcha motham chaadi chaadi vaiyathe aayi!!" which means "Poor girl is tired out with all that jumping all week!!". That statement led to quite a hilarious uproar at home. Grandma and her classic statements!

Have a look at Britney towards the end of the video!! :-D

My first Slam Book

Having a slam book, especially during farewell occasions was definitely a craze during my school days. It was definitely one of those things that everyone had just because every other person had a slam book. Quite infectious these 'craze' stuff can be.

I recently came across one of my so-called 'slam books'. It was the first one that I had. This was the one I had when my 6th grade was coming to an end. Now why I had a slam book back in 6th grade is a question to which I do not have an answer but all I can assure is that I blindly followed the ‘craze’ because of my peers who were aping our seniors. Sigh…kids!! It was an age where one would have absolutely no idea that there were so many farewells in future waiting to take place, some for the best, some rather painful. The slam book was in the shape of a pink teddy bear which had a pink bow on its head. The name of the teddy bear was Bonnie. Looking at it after so many years really amused me but the contents of the book amused me even more!! While reading some of them, I almost said to myself, “OMG!!’

Some of the entries (uncensored):

My Monkey Maria

Drink hot coffee

Drink hot tea

Burn your lips

And remember Me

Dear Maria

Don’t run behind boys, it is a bad thing. Instead, what should you do is make them run behind you. (Besides you are very beautiful to make them run after you)

Dearest Maria (Dad’s Dummiest Daughter)

We all sat on the grass,

The greenest we could find,

But you sat on something,

The cows left behind.

I saw you in the ocean,

I saw you in the sea,

I saw you in the bathtub,

Oops…excuse me!!

Dearest Maria

Carry Cute Children

Have Hundred Handsome Husbands

May luck always be with you

Dearest Maria

Bees love honey

Kings love money

But I love you

Because you are so…..funny!

Dear Maria

Life is like an ice cream, enjoy it before it melts!

Dear Maria

Deep in a valley,

Carved on a rock,

Three little words

“Forget me Not”

Dearest Maria

Roses are Red

Violets are blue

Sugar is sweet

And so are you.

I remember most of the people who wrote the above entries. Silly but sweet!! Those were the carefree days, one hardly knew what was in store for the future.

Ammama

As Ammama’s (Grandma) third death anniversary nears, my mind goes back to a flashback of some memories. I recollect of an incident….

This was when Anto and I used to stay in Tripunithura for a couple of months. I was in 11th std and Anto was in 7th std. Ammama as usual used to think of both of us as incapable of walking by the side of Kerala roads as we still were very much labelled as the 'Brainless NRIs'. However, this incident just goes to show how influential Ammama was with people. :-)

This was the first time both of us set off for school in Tripunithura and were walking towards the SN junction where we could catch our school bus. I ensured we kept a safe distance from the vehicles passing by. I do have the habit of occasionally turning around just to have an idea who is walking behind us, for safety reasons. After a while, I noticed a milkman seemed to be following us. I kept telling myself that it was just my imagination but that feeling just grew stronger. I stepped up the pace and we walked faster and got on to the bus. I remember I let out a huge sigh of relief and looked at Anto who as usual was oblivious to what was happening and was enjoying the sights through the window seat.

We came back home that day and I hinted to Ammama what happened. She seemed to have a satisfied look on her face, which left me a little surprised. Later she revealed it was her master plan to send a spy to keep a watch on us and the milkman readily agreed to this assignment. I wish I knew about all her spies.

Yet another anniversary….and I miss her…

Image Courtesy: allposters.com

Where the mind is without fear.....

Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high;
Where knowledge is free;
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls;
Where words come out from the depth of truth;
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection;
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way into the dreary desert sand of dead habit;
Where the mind is led forward by thee into ever-widening thought and action;
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.

-- Rabindranath Tagore

Today, out of the blue, I recalled reciting this poem. Once upon a time, this was like a school prayer for me. It reminded me of the days when we used to stand in the hot sun during the school assembly, in our sky blue shirts and grey pinafores, with my hair either high up in a ponytail or plaited on both sides and our school principal Mr Suresh Mathur used to recite it and we used to repeat every line after him.

Today as I recalled the poem, the first few lines, made me feel as if I got out of a cage and a strong breeze was blowing, which just made me feel free. All disturbed thoughts of one’s mind completely evaporated and the mind became a comfortable blankness. It has a patriotic feel to it but also it makes an individual feel free from within.

How I wish I realised the meaning of what I used to recite during my school days and realised that those indeed were the days of absolute bliss and freedom.

Chest number 175

This was the chest number on the T-shirt that I wore when I participated in the Sports Day in Choice School. It was the year 2000 and I was looking forward to kissing the race tracks once again after a gap of two years. The whole thought used to freak me out but nevertheless, I did not want to lose out on the opportunity.

The day was memorable in many ways. It was the first time my brother actually saw me run as an athlete for my usual events like 100m, 200m and 4x100m relay. This was the day I also discovered the fastest antidote to acidity. Yes, my friends, believe it or not, a 100m race is the quickest way to get rid of one's acidity problems. Two days before the Sports Day, I developed what I would call an extreme case of acidity which I had never come across before. At that time I had absolutely no idea it was acidity. All I knew was that I was in pain due to the stomach ache and I dreaded what I would do if this did not go away on the Sports Day. My mother was convinced it had to be acidity. And I always thought that things like these happen only to the elderly folks.

Finally, D-Day arrived and I was looking sick and miserable. Everyone told me to relax and if required to drop out of the events. I really did not want to do that because I was the only person who made it to the finals for the 100m, 200m and 4x100m relay from my House (Gangothri). For the first time, I enjoyed the Sports Day like as if it was a picnic. All the participants who did make it to the finals were my own classmates and I was proud to belong to a class that had good sportswomen.

The 100m race was about to begin and all of us lined up at the starting line. I gave almost everyone a hug as most of them were my classmates and good friends. The referee finally blew the whistle and off we ran. I was leading the pack for a good 80m and then another participant overtook me. I am not surprised as I was known to be a silver medalist for a damn good reason during my school days in Dubai. I was very happy all the same to realize that I had not lost my touch at all. Suddenly I realized the pain in my stomach vanished and I was stunned at the discovery. Hence the discovery of the 100m antidote for acidity.

Blast from the Past

I do not have the habit of keeping a diary but that does not mean I do not like to keep records of memories; both good and bad. I am just too lazy to keep a diary and do not have the discipline to write what happens every single day. Maybe it could be because I do not want to come face to face to accept the fact that nothing much really happens in my life and hence results in having 'boring' entries in my diary. So instead of keeping a diary, I did have the habit of maintaining a collection of things that would remind me of memories of long ago. This habit too did not last for long.

I had taken one week off to spend some time at home. For 5 months, I was away in London and I still remember the day before the flight. I was hurrying up with the packing and vacating my room in Chennai. So much junk had to be taken back to Cochin and dumped. I had decided then that it was high time I did some tidying up back at home.

So here I was, looking at my cupboard of junk and slowly started to work on what needed to be kept and what needed to be thrown out of the house. It was during this time, that I came across two shoe boxes. They were dusty and dirty. The boxes open up to a lot of memories. I used to keep all the chits of paper that used to be passed around during class hours. It was very amusing for me to read them, many of them almost 10 years old!!

There were emotional letters; some after reading I could not help but laugh at myself on how we kids used to get all worked up on the most trivial matters, but some letters did leave a tinge of sadness and wishing how life would have been if matters did not twist and turn the way they did.

I did throw all of them but I decided to mention in my blog some of the things I did come across during my rampage through the boxes. Look out for some of them in upcoming posts.

The King of Pop - MJ

It’s been years since I had listened to any of Michael Jackson’s songs. This could be because, in a way, he kind of got phased out from the current Pop scene. But his all-time hits like Thriller, Black or White, Beat It, etc just cannot be forgotten. Unfortunately, the reasons for which he used to hit the news most of the time almost made me blur him out of my mind. I just did not know what to believe. But he is undoubtedly the King of Pop.

Just before I left for work this morning, I saw one of my roommates hurriedly switching on the television to see a news channel. That’s when I saw the breaking news of “Michael Jackson died of cardiac arrest”. I did gape looking at it for a few seconds but soon snapped out of it as I had to hurry to catch the company bus.

During the entire day, my mind used to wander away back to memories as to when and how I had heard of Michael Jackson for the very first time. Although I had heard of him during my early childhood I think it was when I was 10 or 11 years old that I heard his songs for the first time in my uncle’s house. My cousin Mathew, a huge fan of MJ, had a collection of all of his songs if I am not mistaken. Even today, the background music that plays in my head when I enter his room would be one of MJ’s songs. I think it was my beginning to listen to English music.

I remember when I used to use my initials M.J., my friends used to tease me saying that I was trying to be Michael Jordan or Michael Jackson who had the same initials.

His death did come as a shock; my reaction surprised me the most. It just goes to show that there are a lot of fans out there, and also people like me who would have relived some moments back in time, cherishing his music and moves, while watching the tragic news of his death.

Goodbye London!

I have mixed feelings when I think of leaving London. May 16 is the day. I sometimes wonder if I will be back in London later. At this point, I really don't know. The thought of going back to India gets me excited; to see my family after 5 months is a thrill in itself, after all, it is the longest that I have stayed away from family.

The sadness creeps in when I realize all the things I would miss about my life in London so far.

Initially, I used to think that the weather out here could depress anyone. It is always cloudy and windy and there were days together when I have not seen sunlight at all. I used to get all excited when it's a sunny day out here and I don't blame the Brits who forever start their conversation with an update on the weather. It's just that I now realise that I have got used to the life out here, however boring that it may seemed in the beginning.

I will miss my everyday walk to the office which is my favourite part of the day. The greenery all around me calms me down and brings within me a peaceful feeling. A smile popped up on my face all through the walk. Except for my roommates, everyone else used to think I was crazy to walk every day to the office. None of them could feel the absolute bliss of walking I used to experience.

I will miss all those people that I have enjoyed working with, people who make me smile with joy, people who I like to see every day as their mere presence used to make my day. I secretly wish that I either get to see these people back in Chennai or get to go again to London to meet them.

I will miss the yummy ice creams I used to have, and the food and wine I used to enjoy immensely, all of which have resulted in me becoming a little plump. I am officially out of the 'skinny' league. I can hear faintly my mom's voice saying, "Hurray…she is finally put on some weight".

I will miss the tube train journeys and bus journeys I had to get around London. It was like being in the game called 'Monopoly' where I came across places like Leicester Square, Trafalgar Square, Bond Street, Kings Cross Station, Piccadilly Circus, White Chapel Road, Marylebone Station, etc.... and I used to say to myself, "Man....these places really do exist!! "

I will not forget how I reached Baker Street and came face to face with the Sherlock Holmes statue ( well, not exactly face to face due to the statue's height )

I think I could go on forever, in short, I will miss London.
Check out the video which Mr Anonymous below has posted in his comment:

Finally my tears made sense….

Some of you might be thinking that I am on an emotional streak as some of my posts are becoming a little sentimental. It is because right now I do not really have people who have the patience to listen to the crap I have to blurt out every day. This post is dedicated to two wonderful individuals who had the patience to listen to my blabber and crap; Smitha and Divya. And I truly miss them a lot.

The day Smitha left Chennai, I cried a lot at the railway station. I was quite surprised at myself. I agree I was very sad but I could not understand the reason for crying uncontrollably. Later on, it all made sense. I feel at some level, I knew that I would never come across people who could totally understand me and get along with me and my occasional weirdness. I was mentally stronger when it was time for Divya to leave, by then I had accepted the fact that we would have to part, at some point in time.

This post will be long. Read it only if you have time. Although Smitha and Divya were my college mates, I got to know them well only after I moved in with them in Chennai.

I decided to start my career in Chennai for a lot of reasons. I later realized not all reasons made any sense. I had a set of friends who tried to persuade me to work in Bangalore. But there was something about Bangalore which kept me pushing it down on my list of places I wanted to work. I know that if I had chosen Bangalore, life would have taken a different course. I think it was written in my fate to land in Chennai and go through all the experiences that I have gone through so far.

I had a special bond with Chennai right from my school days. I had visited this terribly humid and sweaty city a couple of times and there was something about it I always liked. It was a big city unlike Bangalore and it was not too fast and not too conservative. I liked this combination of modernity and conservativeness, it matched my personality too. The famous bookshop Landmark and Nungambakkam area are quite nostalgic as my parents and I had spent a lot of time in these areas many years ago.

A lot of my college mates had moved into Chennai for work and I felt it would be a good option to be in a city where you know familiar faces. But I was to realize soon, that no one has much time for anyone in a big city like Chennai.

My house-hunting experience was not all that great. I had some 'friends' who told me that they would help me out in finding a place since I was not familiar with Chennai. I soon realized that were just sugar-coated words. Finally, my college mate Sandhya agreed to come with me to check out a pay-guest (PG) accommodation. Compared to the many terrible ones I had seen, this one was better and I finalized it fast. I was looking forward to getting to know the rest of the housemates but only to realize later that I was on my own in that house.

My first few days in office were not so great to remember. I didn't have anyone to go for lunch with. It felt weird to sit at a table either alone or with total strangers and have lunch. I realized that I had taken for granted the circle of friends I had back in college during lunch hour; I missed them terribly. But I don't totally regret these experiences; I realize they taught me to be independent. It taught me that I can go alone for lunch and that is not a reason for self-pity. Whenever I sit alone having lunch, I observe what I eat and the people all around me. Many a time, I like having lunch alone now. I also like doing many things on my own.

A couple of months later, my parents had come to drop me off at my PG. My mom later told me it was a sad sight to see me go to my room, all alone, with no one to talk to. After that, even my parents insisted on shifting to a house with college mates if possible. I could not initially move in with my college mates as there was no vacancy in any of the houses. I started to feel that opting for Chennai was not a very good idea, but thankfully these thoughts did not last for long.

One day, Smitha called me to tell me that she and her roommates were planning to move to a house and were looking for a fourth roommate. Ever since, my life totally changed. I moved in with them and had the time of my life. The house at Besant Nagar truly became my second home. We had a lot of fun times and it was sad it lasted only for just a year. I miss the times when Divya and I used to talk endlessly till early morning. I miss the times when all of us used to have dinner watching our favourite show, F.R.I.E.N.D.S. It was like a ritual for us to have our usual rice, curd, egg, pickle and maybe one more curry for dinner and watch F.R.I.E.N.D.S on the laptop. However tiring and frustrating my day may be the thought of coming home and talking to my roomies was a stress buster in itself. God knows how many times I may have bored them but they always seem to enjoy the description of the characters that I often work with in the office.

Now, I do not stay with people who are like them and I realize that all I have got are sweet memories of the good old days that I had spent with them.

Divya and Smitha, you gals mean a lot to me!!

Image Courtesy - http://hostilehaiku.blogspot.com/

Pangs of nostalgia…

After coming to London, I have come across many things that remind me of my childhood days. When I get into a supermarket, especially the big ones, it reminds me of how my entire family used to go out for grocery shopping when I was in Dubai. We used to buy everything in bulk. The variety of chips that were available in Dubai always amazed me, especially the cheese-flavoured ones. I am a cheese freak. Anything cheese goes down well with me. After coming back to India, my lifestyle at home completely changed. Junk food reduced a lot which of course is a good thing. Now when I see the large variety of chips, ice creams and junk food, I get transported back to the times when my brother and I used to look at these items and try to decide or rather fight it out as to which flavour, brand, etc we wanted. Even now I see some brands that were there 12 years ago.

The parks here with the swings and slides remind me of the days spent with family in various parks in Dubai. I used to love swinging up really high and getting that adrenaline pumping. I also remember hitting a kid who came in front of me while I was swinging. Or was I the one who got hit? Hmm…mine is not a very good memory. Anyways, someone got hit.

In February, I had gone for ice-skating. I learnt a bit of ice skating when I was in the 8^th grade for two months during the summer vacations. I loved every moment of those sessions. It is a lovely feeling to skate on ice to great music, especially skating to the slow ones often makes me think I am in some fairy tale. I went to a place called Canary Wharf. It is a business centre with tall buildings. There was an open-air ice rink. I was so tempted to go for it and was also scared that I may not remember what I had learnt so many years ago. At first, I was totally unstable. I was constantly holding onto the side rails trying to skate. My friend knew roller skating and got his balance soon. He had to take me for two rounds to stabilize and finally, I was able to skate. It felt so good to realize that I had not forgotten ice skating.

I regret the fact that I was not able to go again for ice skating. The open-air ice rinks are only open during the winter.

These pangs of nostalgia will never end; an occasional blast from the past.

Gardens remind me of Grandma…..

In London, I live in an area that is full of greenery. There are many parks nearby. Spring is here and the gardens are blooming with flowers and gardeners are hard at work removing the weeds that have grown during the cold winter.

The back garden of my house is full of weeds among the overgrown grass. It is a nice garden and the owner had told us he would start maintaining the garden once summer starts. When I see the weeds I feel like pulling them out. My mind flashes back to the days I used to stay at my uncle’s place in Tripunithura. My brother and I used to help Grandma to pull out the weeds in the garden. It was nice to watch her passion for maintaining the garden. She knew a lot about plants and flowers. She used to scold us if we did not do things in the right way.

She would have loved to see all the gardens and parks out here. I used to like her smartness and quick-wittedness. Many a time her words used to hurt people but still I think she had a soft corner for me despite her words.

There is still a pang of sadness when I think of Grandma even though it has been two and half years since she passed away. She had a peaceful death and must be one of the few people who could have a last look at their most cherished possessions before closing their eyes forever. From what I heard, before she died, she took a stroll in her garden and had a good look around the garden, I guess she had a hint her time had come and then went to lie down on her bed. I feel one must be very lucky to do your favourite thing before you have taken your last breath. I miss her a lot. I believe she is looking down upon all of us all the time.

Running ...after a long hiatus....

After the major fall I had back in college in 100m finals, I never really felt like running again. I felt I had lost my touch. I don’t even tell anyone that I was into athletics once upon a time. But still, I miss the excitement of running a race or just plain running. After more than 3 years, finally I went out with my roommate to run as part of the exercise. It was chilly outside but you cannot feel it once you start running. It was drizzling slightly too.

I started to run. At first, I felt fine. I felt that the streets suddenly turned into race tracks. I could hear people cheering for the participants and there was excitement in the air. I ran quite a bit. I felt that I got transported back in time when getting a silver medal for most of my races was like a piece of cake.

Suddenly I felt breathless, I could not run further but still I tried to move on. Old memories of my last race began to flash before my eyes. I recalled how I had fallen down hard on the ground after completing 50m. It’s every athlete’s nightmare - to fall down and not be able to complete a race. I had bruised my knee badly and was limping for a long time. I still have that ugly scar.

I slowed down my pace and tried to come back to reality. I took frequent breaks but I made it a point I ran for at least a few meters. I did not want to give up. I walked, ran, walked, ran……. I reached back home….running towards the door. Today is Day 1. This is just the beginning.

Looking back at 2008

It was a strange year. It had its highlights. It had its share of lows. Not going to list them down under each of those categories. Let’s say… I look back at those moments which I would not forget for which the reasons be either bad or good….

I realise that I have travelled quite a bit this year… Tirunelveli, Bangalore, Pune, Lonavala, Mumbai, Pondicherry and to top the list would be… London. In addition to all this is my shuttle between Chennai and Cochin whenever time permits. I had Coimbatore and Hyderabad too in mind but it just never worked out because of hectic work schedules.

I was quite lucky I was able to see Mumbai before the terror attacks….really loved South Bombay. It has a special charm which no other city has that I have seen so far.

Work-wise… yes, worked a lot this year….longer hours than the previous year where I just worked for 8-9 hrs. I ended up breaking my policy of not working after midnight because my work demanded it. But I did make sure I compensated by coming in by 11:30am for work. No one has questioned me so far. In fact, I was waiting to be questioned. I guess they know I work more than enough. Unfortunately, my situation was such that even if I reached the office by 8am, I would not be able to get out by 7pm due to constraints and orders from higher authorities. (I am trying so hard from refraining to spill out the beans as to who these authorities are….sigh…)

The economic recession was or rather is definitely not a good thing and everyone is hopeful of the New Year in this regard. However, to many, it looks bleak. Well, I feel you cannot or rather should not state anything at this point. To give a description of how bleak 2009 is going to turn out is definitely not going to help anyone.

The story of life was no different in 2008, people were born and people have died. For those who have brought young ones into this world, may the year ahead be full of joy and constant diaper changing. And for those who have lost their loved ones, pray for the departed souls and put your sorrows behind you as the drama called LIFE has to go on.

There were lots of wedding bells and definitely more to come in 2009. This year is going to turn me deaf with all the bells ringing and clanging.

On the whole, the eventful year 2008 was I must say!!

Farewells and Realisations....

This year has been many farewells for me. Many of my friends either got married or about to get married. Many quit their jobs for higher studies or are at an onsite location either in the US or in Europe.

I guess the small mistake I made was to allow my mind to think that all the fun that we were having after passing out from college would last forever. I knew of the same at some level...these thoughts were very much present in the corner of my mind, refusing to come out to the front and make me realise that not all these people around me are going to be with me forever.

I realise that my school days and college days were indeed days of absolute bliss. All one had to worry was “Hope the exam paper is not too tough”, “Did I pass?”, “Will I get into trouble for not doing my homework?” etc. Almost every year I get to see my friends when I graduate to the next year in school or college. Then it is all about new books, new teachers, curricular activities, etc. Nothing really changes. I wish time stood still. At least that way I could look on forever at some of the best memories of my life.

Now every year something new happens. Of course, that factor is exciting but deep down inside there is this feeling of your friends drifting away because each individual is busy with their own life. In school and college, everyone led just one life. Now each individual’s life is about so many things or rather complications that we have no other choice other than to let loose the reins of friendship so that it lasts instead of disappearing.

I have slowly learnt to accept this fact and move on. I have improved in many ways and I can deal with farewell situations better than before. I do not get upset if my friends do not call me as often as they used to. More appropriately, I have learnt to get over it soon. But one thing is yet to change……the small stream of tears that at times starts flowing instantly down my face needs to completely dry up whenever I see myself being moved far away from all those who make my life memorable.

An occasion that turned out to be a festival!!

For the past two years, October 12 was a date I always preferred to forget. Two years ago, it was a day filled with fear, worry and anxiety for my loved ones due to some unpleasant events. Henceforth, it was a day I felt should pass by just like any other NORMAL day of my life with no special events. October 12 also happens to be my birthday.

As October approached, the same feelings I had gone through last year started coming back. Superstitious thoughts of bad things that could happen and some bad memories used to flash back into my mind. Due to all this, I was very happy that I was extremely busy at my workplace at this time of the year which prevented my mind from wandering away too much into these useless thoughts! Many of my friends think that it's because I still live in the past. I don’t think so. If you were in my shoes, you would know exactly what I mean. No one can even imagine the trauma I went through in those days.

This year my birthday turned out to be like a festival because the celebrations and wishes from everyone spanned a couple of days. Lots of people wished me in advance/wrong day, very few remembered to wish me on the actual day and also a lot of belated wishes the next two days.

Initially, I had decided that I would type out every detail that happened on my birthday and I did so to a very large extent, but then I felt that only I would cherish each and every detail and not necessarily the reader. So this post has only the main highlights of the day.…..a very beautiful cake that I got to cut in the office, lots of gifts presented to me in a jute bag which also included an empty whiskey bottle, a huge birthday card which had a perfectly done collage on it made by my roommates and Sister Alphonsa was declared a saint at around the same time I was born. I feel that a lot of good things are coming my way.

Check out the slideshow on my blog for a snapshot of this year’s birthday.

At the end of the day, all that matters is that I had a smile on my face as I fell asleep on my bed. What more can I ask for!!

Ruffled thoughts

Recently I visited Marina Beach in Chennai. It is really a long stretch and I had gone in the evening with friends. There was a cool breeze and all of us had a relaxing time. Yes, this is the very same beach where many witnessed the Tsunami and drove everyone into a frenzy. A shiver still goes down one's spine at the very thought of it. I closed my eyes and my mind travelled way back in time and ruffled through some strange thoughts once again.

I had written a poem way back in 2004; thankfully I have the habit of noting down the date (at least the year) for most of the stuff I write. This is based on a nightmare I had around that time. It was the 4th of November. I remember that it was a lazy afternoon and I was studying for an exam and as usual, fell asleep on my book. The bad dream lasted only for a few minutes but that was enough to leave my mind disturbed for a very long time.

In my dream, I was walking with my family on the beach. The sea was calm and waves came in and tickled at our feet. Although I was walking with them, I slowly lagged behind. I was really enjoying myself with the waves lashing at my feet and did not realize that I was away from everyone. All of a sudden I see a huge wave; huge was just not the word to describe it. It looked unreal to me. Before I could do anything, I was swept away and dragged into the sea. I could hear someone call out my name. It was my father, rushing towards me to catch hold of me. But all his efforts were in vain, I was swept completely and the next minute I woke up in fright, sweating with fear. I was thinking of the dream the rest of the day and thought as to why the wave was so huge. How unreal it was. Not that it was unusual for me to have weird dreams, but this one lingered in my mind for quite a while. Writing has often proved as a stress buster for me so that night I sat down and wrote a poem, loosely based on my dream. I did not want to pen down how huge the wave was, probably I was not convinced how waves be as huge as I had seen them in my dream. So keeping that in mind, that night I wrote the following poem:

Dated : ( 4/11/2004)

Rose

Staring at sea,
Staring at nothingness in front of me,
Staring at the cause of my silence,
Since the day Rose left me.

So tiny was she,
Full of giggles & dimpled smiles,
My fingers held her hand,
She knew she was safe with me.

Living by the seashore,
The waves knew me,
At every stage of my life,
I shared it with the sea,
They were such good listeners,
Expressions they evoked,
Sometimes with furious waves,
Sometimes with gentle,
caressing waves at my feet,
They listened to my woes and happy dreams.

Nostalgic memories of Rose’s birth,
Flashes back into my mind,
I remember I broke the news first to the sea,
Their waves came ashore, sharing their happiness with me.

A year passed by,

Rose began to crawl,

Before I knew it,

She started to walk.

I took her by the hand,

Introduced her to the sea,

Her anxious eyes soon relaxed,

She became friends with the sea.

A few years passed by,

Her bond with the sea,

Became strong as ever,

Just like mine with the sea.

One day sitting at the shore,

Watching Rose play with receding waves,

She squealed with delight, as the waves tickled at her feet.

As I listened to Rose's happy giggles,

I closed my eyes and laid back,

Feeling the salty breeze,

Blow against me.

Rose's voice started to fade away,

I thought I fell asleep,

Her squeals sounded of terror and fright,

I opened my eyes and ran towards the raging waves,

But Rose was nowhere in sight,

Only raging sounds of water,

The waves wickedly laughed at me.

I sat and stared at the sea,

It was nothingness to me,

Numbed with sadness and agony,

Ever since the day Rose left me.

On 26th December 2004, I realised what I saw in my dream was not unreal and if I had known what a tsunami was, I would have not underplayed the ferocious waves in my poem. May the souls who passed away on that day, rest in eternal peace.