The best ideas strike me in the middle of the night. When I’m deep in sleep, unaware, with my sub-conscious freed, I come up with such complex plot and such interwoven characters, if only put to paper, will make a sizzling best-seller. I dream a whole book, like I’m watching a movie. But come dawn, I can’t seem to remember a scrape of my mind’s escapades.
So, after yet another frustrating morning when I couldn’t remember the best seller I wove in my fantastic dreams, I made a promise to jot it down on a note pad. And thus I went to sleep for a month and a half, notepad by bedside, awaiting the unwritten masterpiece.
Last night I had one of those dreams where I see so many characters, with intensity in the emotions and richness in the landscape. And I resolutely wrote them down, in the dark, half asleep. And I woke up to this: (It was terribly illegible, like a chicken scrawl, but here is what I think was written)
He goes -->THERE
Darkness-flight-fight --hilarious, curious, furious.
Maybe past?--> go THERE again?-->Conflict.
Come with me and let’s try to figure out what I wrote:
Obviously, the ‘He’ is the protagonist. And, much more obviously, I have a place which I’m so familiar with, that only a ‘THERE’ is enough to indicate what it is. Sadly, my subconscious forgot to connect with my conscious and tell it where ‘THERE’ is.
Darkness-Flight-Fight could mean any of the following things: 1) A Romantic fight in the dark with the villain, after which the hero boards a plane for flight. 2) A supernatural darkness where the hero actually flies to fight. 3) A FBI hero goes undercover in the dark night to fight the mafia don. Ah, the possibilities!
I was, I should confess, pretty amazed at my ability to ryhme in deep slumber- hilarious, curious, furious,
Again, with the ‘past’, was I trying to explain the tortured history of the protagonist or was there a flashback Indian-ishtyle? Or maybe I was referring to something in my past that will complete my plot?
Sigh! Whatever made me think my sub-consciousness will be smarter than me? I did throw away the notepad, but rescued the crumpled plot-paper from the bin. Hey, A girl can always hope she will suddenly turn smart and figure out what she wrote!
Nov 1, 2010
Oct 18, 2010
The Curious Case of Squeaky Squirrel
When someone visits their mother’s home, they expect everything to remain the same. It’s a bittersweet pleasure to walk though the rooms where you grew up, to touch the scarred furniture and breathe in peace and familiarity. I almost forgot, one would also expect the parents to essentially remain the same, baring a few signs of aging. Preferably still lucid and intelligent, too.
After a nostalgic evening with all the trimmings of food and memories and a peaceful slumber, I woke up to bright sunshine, looking forward to yet another VDay. As I stood in the kitchen, contemplating the degree of my laziness in preparing the coffee, my mom bustled in and waved me off with “Go, sleep for some more time or watch T.V, I’ll get you the coffee”.
I stood there with tears of gratitude in my eyes at the thought of how wonderful she was… How caring she was… how insane she was! My mom, my sane, sensible mom, had the kitchen window open, and was leaning over the counter-top, peering out and talking to- Nobody!
Her actions would make sense if our kitchen window faced the home of a neighbor, in which case I would assume she was talking to someone. But unless the straight-laced employees in the two floor bank next to my home plundered the contents of the vaults, sold the building and someone else built a 4 floor home, there was no one to talk to!
But then she wasn’t talking, was she? She was cooing and hiccupping. It sounded like a cross between scared rats and crazy birds.
"Coo..coo…krrr…kish"
“Amma…” I asked, hesitantly, in case I set her off, flapping through the window.
“What? Coo..coo…krrr…kish”
“Amma, what are you doing?”
“Coo..coo…krrr…kish”
Now I was getting desperate. "MOM?!"
“Do you see that food?” she says, pointing to the ledge. “It’s still there!”
At which point I lean over the counter, just like her and peep out. And sure enough, (thank God!) there is some dried bread and weird looking brown strips there.
“What is that?”
“Coo..coo…krrr…kish…coo…kir…kish”
“MOM!”
“It’s the food I left out. That stupid squirrel is still not eating! I made the ‘puris’ especially for him! Poor thing! I don’t know where he is!”
Here I thought the puris were on my honor!
After a nostalgic evening with all the trimmings of food and memories and a peaceful slumber, I woke up to bright sunshine, looking forward to yet another VDay. As I stood in the kitchen, contemplating the degree of my laziness in preparing the coffee, my mom bustled in and waved me off with “Go, sleep for some more time or watch T.V, I’ll get you the coffee”.
I stood there with tears of gratitude in my eyes at the thought of how wonderful she was… How caring she was… how insane she was! My mom, my sane, sensible mom, had the kitchen window open, and was leaning over the counter-top, peering out and talking to- Nobody!
Her actions would make sense if our kitchen window faced the home of a neighbor, in which case I would assume she was talking to someone. But unless the straight-laced employees in the two floor bank next to my home plundered the contents of the vaults, sold the building and someone else built a 4 floor home, there was no one to talk to!
But then she wasn’t talking, was she? She was cooing and hiccupping. It sounded like a cross between scared rats and crazy birds.
"Coo..coo…krrr…kish"
“Amma…” I asked, hesitantly, in case I set her off, flapping through the window.
“What? Coo..coo…krrr…kish”
“Amma, what are you doing?”
“Coo..coo…krrr…kish”
Now I was getting desperate. "MOM?!"
“Do you see that food?” she says, pointing to the ledge. “It’s still there!”
At which point I lean over the counter, just like her and peep out. And sure enough, (thank God!) there is some dried bread and weird looking brown strips there.
“What is that?”
“Coo..coo…krrr…kish…coo…kir…kish”
“MOM!”
“It’s the food I left out. That stupid squirrel is still not eating! I made the ‘puris’ especially for him! Poor thing! I don’t know where he is!”
Here I thought the puris were on my honor!
Oct 12, 2010
The price of beauty- Up in flames?!
I consider myself healthy even though I may not inspire any man to sing ballads to my non-mesmerizing eyes or odes to my non-delicate feet (even my own hero would scoff!). And I’m not fussy when it comes to food.
But yesterday, when a chilled glass of orange juice gave me a splitting headache minutes after drinking it, I wondered if I was growing old and this was the beginning of quirks and pet-peeves that would bug me for the rest of my life. Thankfully, it turns out, when the lazy manufacturers grind the oranges with the skin, the chemicals in the rind will trigger headaches in some.
After a big sigh of relief and a promise to stay away from Ojs henceforth, I explained to my Venezuelan and American colleagues about the OJ phenomenon. They showed appropriate interest in this and interrupted with the right amount of ‘oh!’, ‘Really?!’ and ‘I will stay away from rinds’.
One of them added that the rinds were flammable- if you squeeze a little bit and show a lighter, the rinds will go up in flames.
I was horrified! I explained about mothers painstakingly saving up the rinds to sun-dry and grind them into a fine powder, to be mixed with milk and applied on the faces of their daughters. To which they looked at me askance and said “Whyever would you want to do that?!”
“It will make the skin glow”
“Glow in Orange color?”
“No, no, it will make skin healthy and bring out the natural shine in it after you wash it off”
Pat came the absurd reply- “I though they applied the paste and took a lighter to it to make it glow!”
Duh!
But yesterday, when a chilled glass of orange juice gave me a splitting headache minutes after drinking it, I wondered if I was growing old and this was the beginning of quirks and pet-peeves that would bug me for the rest of my life. Thankfully, it turns out, when the lazy manufacturers grind the oranges with the skin, the chemicals in the rind will trigger headaches in some.
After a big sigh of relief and a promise to stay away from Ojs henceforth, I explained to my Venezuelan and American colleagues about the OJ phenomenon. They showed appropriate interest in this and interrupted with the right amount of ‘oh!’, ‘Really?!’ and ‘I will stay away from rinds’.
One of them added that the rinds were flammable- if you squeeze a little bit and show a lighter, the rinds will go up in flames.
I was horrified! I explained about mothers painstakingly saving up the rinds to sun-dry and grind them into a fine powder, to be mixed with milk and applied on the faces of their daughters. To which they looked at me askance and said “Whyever would you want to do that?!”
“It will make the skin glow”
“Glow in Orange color?”
“No, no, it will make skin healthy and bring out the natural shine in it after you wash it off”
Pat came the absurd reply- “I though they applied the paste and took a lighter to it to make it glow!”
Duh!
Sep 20, 2010
“It was impossible to get a conversation going; everybody was talking too much.”
When you are aware of the story of a movie or a book, what makes you still want to see it or read it? It’s not about the ending or the story because you already know it. It’s about what happens to whom and how it all comes about. It is to appreciate the characters you come to know and delight in the plot's unfolding. It’s the journey that’s exciting, because we are always aware of the destination.
That is why when my husband asks me something, I tend to get bogged down in detail as I want him to experience first-hand what I went though. I always explained to him that this tendency was exclusive to those who read and write and generally deal with words, as I find that the book-centric people like me are very descriptive.
To which he huffs, "All you women talk a lot!" And it's an anathema to me, when he finds cohorts to support him in this theory, who nod and generalize that they suffer from 'talkative-wife' ailment too. How they delightedly discuss who suffers more, as if that would win them an award of some kind!
That is why when my husband asks me something, I tend to get bogged down in detail as I want him to experience first-hand what I went though. I always explained to him that this tendency was exclusive to those who read and write and generally deal with words, as I find that the book-centric people like me are very descriptive.
To which he huffs, "All you women talk a lot!" And it's an anathema to me, when he finds cohorts to support him in this theory, who nod and generalize that they suffer from 'talkative-wife' ailment too. How they delightedly discuss who suffers more, as if that would win them an award of some kind!
Unfortunately, how wrong I was! I have, very recently, come to the awful conclusion that every myth, saying, test results and rumor about women being too talkative is true. No, I’m not doing the ‘same side goal’ as my cousin would put it, but simply stating a fact. I see that all my friends and every other woman I know, cannot go from point A to B without making a pit stop at E, J and P, and they don’t even bother to bypass Z!
So, instead of shrugging off or rolling my eyes when love of my life interrupts with, "Get to the point already!", I will revel in the fact that it's the privilege and prerogative of a woman to talk and say "Well, listen then!" :D
So, instead of shrugging off or rolling my eyes when love of my life interrupts with, "Get to the point already!", I will revel in the fact that it's the privilege and prerogative of a woman to talk and say "Well, listen then!" :D
Sep 15, 2010
to know...
To begin and to know
That it will end,
To hurt and to know
That you will mend,
To see and to know
That you will perceive,
To ask and to know
That you will receive,
To do and to know
That you will reap,
To breath and to know
That you will sleep,
.....if only life's uncertianities to go away...
Writing posts are hard, but poems are easy...:D
That it will end,
To hurt and to know
That you will mend,
To see and to know
That you will perceive,
To ask and to know
That you will receive,
To do and to know
That you will reap,
To breath and to know
That you will sleep,
.....if only life's uncertianities to go away...
Writing posts are hard, but poems are easy...:D
Sep 5, 2010
The truth about dads and moms...
The reason for the lack of posts recently and the root-cause of this post, rest solely on the shoulders of my wonderful dad. While visiting me, he realized that his daughter, upon her ascendancy to adulthood, has forgotten some of his teachings.
Thus he decided to refurbish his currently-rusted and recently- underused parenting skills.
One of his missions was to get me to pray mom-ishtyle. My rituals include a quick word with God whenever life starts acting-up and heart-felt thanks when life behaves. My mom's everyday prayers are not simply light-the-lamps-bow-and-pray routine. They are elaborate and extensive (not to mention time-consuming). Dad wanted the whole nine yards, just like my mom does.
So, mostly to get my daughter to pray and less-ly to humor him, I set everything up. With my daughter sitting next to me on the mat, my dad and I started with a very old, very long Tamil prayer song. As we sung in perfect harmony, it brought back childhood memories rushing.
Time for some truth- I don't know the middle section of this song. Never got around learning it. As we approached that section, fearing scoldings of the forgotten times, I slowed down, then stopped to let my dad carry the song over.
To my utter surprise my dad stopped at the exact same stanza and looked at me expectantly. And then both of us broke into loud guffaws totally ludicrous for the solemn prayer times!
That's when it registered that he never knew those stanzas too! And that my dear friends, is why I didn't learn them!
Jul 2, 2010
Clappity, clappity, clap, clap,
I haven't penned a poem in about six years now- but this one has been clappiting around in my head for the past few days - I had to pen it down...err, type it out, I mean.
Clappity, clappity, clap, clap,
All around the town,
Clappity, clappity, clap, clap,
Walking up and down,
Clappity, clappity, clap, clap,
Heart's light & singing,
Clappity, clappity, clap, clap,
Arms waving & swinging,
Clappity, clappity, clap, clap,
Eyes wide with wonder,
Clappity, clappity, clap, clap,
Innocence that endears,
Clappity, clappity, clap, clap,
Smile that is infectious,
Clappity, clappity, clap, clap,
My dear child so precious!
Clappity, clappity, clap, clap,
All around the town,
Clappity, clappity, clap, clap,
Walking up and down,
Clappity, clappity, clap, clap,
Heart's light & singing,
Clappity, clappity, clap, clap,
Arms waving & swinging,
Clappity, clappity, clap, clap,
Eyes wide with wonder,
Clappity, clappity, clap, clap,
Innocence that endears,
Clappity, clappity, clap, clap,
Smile that is infectious,
Clappity, clappity, clap, clap,
My dear child so precious!
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