Sunday, October 30, 2005
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
My first attempt at a fictional story
Any remote association to a living character is purely accidental. All characters in this story are purely fictional
trngg.............
School bell rang....
He rushes out of his class, waving hands to his class buddies and with in minutes, finds himself on the bank of this river. This is the usual routine for him, he thought. He hurriedly leaves his book bag behind, unwinds his shoes and settles down as close to the shoreline as possible. He is so happy being there, looking at the waters flowing beneath his feet, still warm for the late afternoon, relaxing. The curative powers of warm waters cannot be better proved to him. He looks at the stray dogs that wobbles in the mud, and thinks, why its mom never scolded it for making a mess of itself.
The scene changes.. He continues to watch... After the dirty dog, passed by, an elderly woman and a little kid in tattered clothes come to the river to fill the wooden flask with water for the evening. They are very popular people in the neighborhood, as they are the only ones who wash and clean the public toilets everyday. It was their home and they had to do it anyways. He is sad as the little kid never gets to meet friends at school, as he does, but at the same time, he envies him, that he never Has to go to school.
A few years back, when he was younger, too young to find his way around, his mom and he would walk together to the river bank, play a little, listen to the stories the mom told him, play blind fold, skip around a rope - his mom used to maintain shape that way. Born with no siblings, his mom was his playmate.
As he walks down the memory lane .....
Sun descends on the horizon, as watches a beautiful sun set. Seems like, the sun gets lost inside the river, and rises itself on the other side after a nights journey underneath the river. As the dusk settles down, he picks his bag and walks a lonely long walk back to rest for the evening. He never speaks a word again. He is scared of the dark evenings, that unsettles him. The village so familiar to him, the screeches of the bicycles speeding by, to reach home after work and fresh "kolam" that adorns every doorstep is silent and strong on either side of him. As he reaches the verandas of his house, he hugs the old frailty figure waiting for him. After habitual ablutions, he prays the Thulasi for a couple of minutes. His mom has taught him the power of prayers.
Now it is study time. Imperceptibly walks to his room, opens the suitcase placed in the corner of the tiny room, and picks a picture that is freshly framed - holds it close to his heart, as tears run down his cheeks. It was his mom, smiling at him from inside of the frame and guiding his action every moment. As he holds the picture so tight that his mother is unable to breathe, vivid, heavy and grim memories of his mom being carried away by the doctors unreel. She was mentally sick. She had tumbled over, skid down and hurt her head, the previous night. That dusky evening, his mother unaware of his son's cries, smilingly walked with the men in white coats. He cried asking for his mother back. The villagers held him back. Days passed by and the villagers explained that his mom would be back when he grew up. There he stays, trusting the powers of his prayers, that he would grow up to see his mother back. He wraps the picture back with the crumpled cloth that is wet with his tears and places it back into the suitcase. He rushes back and hugs his caretaker granny once again.
trngg.............
School bell rang....
He rushes out of his class, waving hands to his class buddies and with in minutes, finds himself on the bank of this river. This is the usual routine for him, he thought. He hurriedly leaves his book bag behind, unwinds his shoes and settles down as close to the shoreline as possible. He is so happy being there, looking at the waters flowing beneath his feet, still warm for the late afternoon, relaxing. The curative powers of warm waters cannot be better proved to him. He looks at the stray dogs that wobbles in the mud, and thinks, why its mom never scolded it for making a mess of itself.
The scene changes.. He continues to watch... After the dirty dog, passed by, an elderly woman and a little kid in tattered clothes come to the river to fill the wooden flask with water for the evening. They are very popular people in the neighborhood, as they are the only ones who wash and clean the public toilets everyday. It was their home and they had to do it anyways. He is sad as the little kid never gets to meet friends at school, as he does, but at the same time, he envies him, that he never Has to go to school.
A few years back, when he was younger, too young to find his way around, his mom and he would walk together to the river bank, play a little, listen to the stories the mom told him, play blind fold, skip around a rope - his mom used to maintain shape that way. Born with no siblings, his mom was his playmate.
As he walks down the memory lane .....
Sun descends on the horizon, as watches a beautiful sun set. Seems like, the sun gets lost inside the river, and rises itself on the other side after a nights journey underneath the river. As the dusk settles down, he picks his bag and walks a lonely long walk back to rest for the evening. He never speaks a word again. He is scared of the dark evenings, that unsettles him. The village so familiar to him, the screeches of the bicycles speeding by, to reach home after work and fresh "kolam" that adorns every doorstep is silent and strong on either side of him. As he reaches the verandas of his house, he hugs the old frailty figure waiting for him. After habitual ablutions, he prays the Thulasi for a couple of minutes. His mom has taught him the power of prayers.
Now it is study time. Imperceptibly walks to his room, opens the suitcase placed in the corner of the tiny room, and picks a picture that is freshly framed - holds it close to his heart, as tears run down his cheeks. It was his mom, smiling at him from inside of the frame and guiding his action every moment. As he holds the picture so tight that his mother is unable to breathe, vivid, heavy and grim memories of his mom being carried away by the doctors unreel. She was mentally sick. She had tumbled over, skid down and hurt her head, the previous night. That dusky evening, his mother unaware of his son's cries, smilingly walked with the men in white coats. He cried asking for his mother back. The villagers held him back. Days passed by and the villagers explained that his mom would be back when he grew up. There he stays, trusting the powers of his prayers, that he would grow up to see his mother back. He wraps the picture back with the crumpled cloth that is wet with his tears and places it back into the suitcase. He rushes back and hugs his caretaker granny once again.
Monday, October 24, 2005
This post coming a little late....
Coming from a Desi living in a Green Village, in the US, where Tam movies seldom get released, is this late review of live Ghajni, where Asin is full of verve and new life all over.
Well, if you have read any review of Ghajni earlier, may be this one is on very similar lines. I had no clue about the movie when I saw it, so it was a pleasant surprise. The movie has Asin and her effervescence written all over the first half. The friendly banter between Surya and Asin, stealthy Surya, the Bombay stories of Asin and her many little things that lift the spirit of anyone around is phenomenal.
The director has shown Asin is the best light, an outgoing, bold and helpful girl that enjoys the little pleasures of life while working towards her ambition of buying three Ambassador Cars. Her character is neatly depicted with the rest of the story.
The director has again, picked the best actor for the role, in Surya, who has given an exceptional performance. It is a novel idea of making a mentally challenged man as the hero, for the Tamil industry that will soon be followed by a few copy machines :)
Though credits are due for the performance of Surya, the idea of the director and the music of Harris Jeyaraj, what continues to act on your head, after the movie, is the tale of Asin, the music of Kalpana that lingers on and on and refuses to wane. It sure has a positive effect on you.
Coming from a Desi living in a Green Village, in the US, where Tam movies seldom get released, is this late review of live Ghajni, where Asin is full of verve and new life all over.
Well, if you have read any review of Ghajni earlier, may be this one is on very similar lines. I had no clue about the movie when I saw it, so it was a pleasant surprise. The movie has Asin and her effervescence written all over the first half. The friendly banter between Surya and Asin, stealthy Surya, the Bombay stories of Asin and her many little things that lift the spirit of anyone around is phenomenal.
The director has shown Asin is the best light, an outgoing, bold and helpful girl that enjoys the little pleasures of life while working towards her ambition of buying three Ambassador Cars. Her character is neatly depicted with the rest of the story.
The director has again, picked the best actor for the role, in Surya, who has given an exceptional performance. It is a novel idea of making a mentally challenged man as the hero, for the Tamil industry that will soon be followed by a few copy machines :)
Though credits are due for the performance of Surya, the idea of the director and the music of Harris Jeyaraj, what continues to act on your head, after the movie, is the tale of Asin, the music of Kalpana that lingers on and on and refuses to wane. It sure has a positive effect on you.
Uncles, aunties and grandmother were engaged in a chat session. It was a period of catching up, many of the family, had just then reached Madras, assembling in the family home at our grandma's. My cousins and I, four of us, @ an average age less than 10 were locked up in a room, as we were too noisy for them to be heard from each other.
In those time, when cordless was unknown, having more than one connection for a phone line was luxury, when people from the neighborhood would use your phone in emergency, phone majestically occupied the space in the outermost of halls, popularly called the "phone room" in our grand ma's place. This room, a tiny 10x10 room, which no one used except to make calls was the hottest of the rooms, anyone dared to live in. Now, this was the room into which we were locked. It was our paradise. The place saw us play dark room, kannamoochi, antakshari, Trade, trump, 56, play drama for Shakespearean "Merchant of Venice", which happened to be in our English texts, in which we made poor Sandhya to play the wicked Shylock !! Every brick in this room, knew more of our joys, fights, games and us better than any other entity outside of it.
Though we were a little upset that the 'elders' had actually locked us here, there were no complaints, we loved being there, enjoying the sweltering heat that heated up further, as our energy soured. It was the time, when cable televisions had started making entry into the market. Sun TV was evolving. Sun TV which was still telecasted only between 6: 30 pm and 11 pm had some special programmes for occasions like Diwali, New Year and Pongal. It was novel for us kids to watch Pepsi Uma on the screen talking to people around the world, playing songs of their choice etc. Also, we were kids who were meeting after a long time. Unlike the elders who had some catching up to do, we were "GO" from the minute 1. Immediately we would start playing, from where we left the last time we met, half a calender year ago. :-) Those were the kid like qualities.
The frustration of having gotten locked up and the excitement of speaking on the Sun TV programmes, had mischievous chemical reactions in us that led us to what we did. We played a drama, this time not Shakespearean but one of our own to vent out our spite and excitement. This program, that we were trying to create and market was an innovative one. "Our Pepsi Uma" was suppose to pick random people from the telephone book, and announce that the called was one among the lucky few to who Uma was calling and that the program would feature her talking and play the song of the her choice in a fortnights time, when the program was suppose to be on air. That was too much of an incentive to get any next door man up on his adrenaline. We took the roles of Pepsi Uma and started calling random people from the Telephone Directory. Now, I appreciate why it costs bucks to get your name ticked off the directory here in the US. It was euphoria for us, as the random people we picked had amazing enthusiasm to talk with Pepsi Uma.
Seemingly a middle aged woman and the mother of a college going son said "Edho en payyan paduvan oorvasi oorvasi nnu .. andha paatu podunga.. ayoo ipponnu paathu en payyan veetle illiye.. avan ketta romba kushi ayiduvanga.. nethu dhan avan kitte ketten, yaaru da orrvasi, therinja ponna nu, edho paattu nnu solli , en vayathula paala vaathaan". It was the time, when Shankar's hit Gentleman was in box-office
Someone, lost in the myriad of songs in this age, that made no sense to this poor old man picked "Oru Naal Podhuma". He was so happy that he actually sang the song for the world-wide audience. Little did he know that his songs were for the private audience locked up in the "Phone Room"
We also had some responses like, "what ? " , "who ?", "wrong number ", that we promptly disconnected. There were a few who did not know of Pepsi Uma or Sun TV , quite surprising !! ?? that we again disconnected, because we did not want to do much of the talking. There was not as much fun in as it is in letting people talk with pushed up frenzy, ardor and intensity and passively listening to it !! The phone was a such a hot item in the heated "Phone Room" that it kept going between us, trying to listen to the pumped up vigor ! For once, we stuck with the rule, of making no noise.
Even today, 15 years later, as I lean back, think and want to be warped in time, the voices of the people of Madras, will bring tears to my eyes, tears of a little guilt, a little victory, a little magic and a little joy. Those were the ages, that we knew no fear, no limits and when no means of joy was wrong ?!
In those time, when cordless was unknown, having more than one connection for a phone line was luxury, when people from the neighborhood would use your phone in emergency, phone majestically occupied the space in the outermost of halls, popularly called the "phone room" in our grand ma's place. This room, a tiny 10x10 room, which no one used except to make calls was the hottest of the rooms, anyone dared to live in. Now, this was the room into which we were locked. It was our paradise. The place saw us play dark room, kannamoochi, antakshari, Trade, trump, 56, play drama for Shakespearean "Merchant of Venice", which happened to be in our English texts, in which we made poor Sandhya to play the wicked Shylock !! Every brick in this room, knew more of our joys, fights, games and us better than any other entity outside of it.
Though we were a little upset that the 'elders' had actually locked us here, there were no complaints, we loved being there, enjoying the sweltering heat that heated up further, as our energy soured. It was the time, when cable televisions had started making entry into the market. Sun TV was evolving. Sun TV which was still telecasted only between 6: 30 pm and 11 pm had some special programmes for occasions like Diwali, New Year and Pongal. It was novel for us kids to watch Pepsi Uma on the screen talking to people around the world, playing songs of their choice etc. Also, we were kids who were meeting after a long time. Unlike the elders who had some catching up to do, we were "GO" from the minute 1. Immediately we would start playing, from where we left the last time we met, half a calender year ago. :-) Those were the kid like qualities.
The frustration of having gotten locked up and the excitement of speaking on the Sun TV programmes, had mischievous chemical reactions in us that led us to what we did. We played a drama, this time not Shakespearean but one of our own to vent out our spite and excitement. This program, that we were trying to create and market was an innovative one. "Our Pepsi Uma" was suppose to pick random people from the telephone book, and announce that the called was one among the lucky few to who Uma was calling and that the program would feature her talking and play the song of the her choice in a fortnights time, when the program was suppose to be on air. That was too much of an incentive to get any next door man up on his adrenaline. We took the roles of Pepsi Uma and started calling random people from the Telephone Directory. Now, I appreciate why it costs bucks to get your name ticked off the directory here in the US. It was euphoria for us, as the random people we picked had amazing enthusiasm to talk with Pepsi Uma.
Seemingly a middle aged woman and the mother of a college going son said "Edho en payyan paduvan oorvasi oorvasi nnu .. andha paatu podunga.. ayoo ipponnu paathu en payyan veetle illiye.. avan ketta romba kushi ayiduvanga.. nethu dhan avan kitte ketten, yaaru da orrvasi, therinja ponna nu, edho paattu nnu solli , en vayathula paala vaathaan". It was the time, when Shankar's hit Gentleman was in box-office
Someone, lost in the myriad of songs in this age, that made no sense to this poor old man picked "Oru Naal Podhuma". He was so happy that he actually sang the song for the world-wide audience. Little did he know that his songs were for the private audience locked up in the "Phone Room"
We also had some responses like, "what ? " , "who ?", "wrong number ", that we promptly disconnected. There were a few who did not know of Pepsi Uma or Sun TV , quite surprising !! ?? that we again disconnected, because we did not want to do much of the talking. There was not as much fun in as it is in letting people talk with pushed up frenzy, ardor and intensity and passively listening to it !! The phone was a such a hot item in the heated "Phone Room" that it kept going between us, trying to listen to the pumped up vigor ! For once, we stuck with the rule, of making no noise.
Even today, 15 years later, as I lean back, think and want to be warped in time, the voices of the people of Madras, will bring tears to my eyes, tears of a little guilt, a little victory, a little magic and a little joy. Those were the ages, that we knew no fear, no limits and when no means of joy was wrong ?!
Thursday, October 13, 2005
Please read it in a lighter sense !
Simply because my program and I are fighting over who is more powerful - I give it junk values and it gives me junkier results and the stage is set for the junkiest show !!, I lean back on my chair, and stretch my hands outside of myself , as outside as it can be inside the cube ..... my mind would run in seemingly parallel crooked lines..
......
Mentally challenged are people who have some retarded growth in the brain. Physically challenged are people who have some form of physical disability. These are sort of euphemisms for certain disorders. These days you hear even romantically challenged - who are .... whatever ?
.....
But as my crookedly minded head turns around and feels that the office chair could have been more comfortable, I see this dimensionally challenged man with a packet of chips in one hand and coke in the other braving the office aisle space. The junkiest fight switched places !
p.s. Characters and instances in this write-up are purely fictional and any material reference to any living character is truly accidental and the author disclaims responsibility. :-)
Simply because my program and I are fighting over who is more powerful - I give it junk values and it gives me junkier results and the stage is set for the junkiest show !!, I lean back on my chair, and stretch my hands outside of myself , as outside as it can be inside the cube ..... my mind would run in seemingly parallel crooked lines..
......
Mentally challenged are people who have some retarded growth in the brain. Physically challenged are people who have some form of physical disability. These are sort of euphemisms for certain disorders. These days you hear even romantically challenged - who are .... whatever ?
.....
But as my crookedly minded head turns around and feels that the office chair could have been more comfortable, I see this dimensionally challenged man with a packet of chips in one hand and coke in the other braving the office aisle space. The junkiest fight switched places !
p.s. Characters and instances in this write-up are purely fictional and any material reference to any living character is truly accidental and the author disclaims responsibility. :-)
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
Nature speaks
In Portland,
rains 10 months in a year.. slow and steady.. that no one ever rushes around.. there is no disruption in life.. rain seems to be pleading "slow and steady, yet persistent ways of life makes a the city green"
In Madras,
If at all it does, it does 3 weeks in year, hard down pour, not enough reservoirs to hold the water, much of the water is wasted out to the sea with in 10 days of rain
The people you see are all in a hurry that they want to get off rain, asap. The people of Madras show an unwelcome attitude to the rain, that rain stopped showing its face these days. Worst water scarcity in history, today.
Nature teaches human kind a lot of things in subtle unknown ways. Rain was just another example. In today's modern world, with people getting busier by the day, atrocities galore. People are in a forceful rush attending their business that they often forget that benefits are better in persistent and slower ways of life. I am not advocating easier lifestyles but just some styles that gives her the time to fathom whatever is happening around her. Persistence pays, not pressure. A political campaign- vehement and forceful slogans often preaching non-cooperation to the youngsters of tomorrow ; A Murder - a exhibition of forceful brutality; cheating and manhandling a next-door neighbor (http://sbcbrutes.blogspot.com. You must have read this via the Email forward carrying the import of this link. ) , are all exhibitions of man-made attempt to forceful invasion trying to achieve supremacy teaching unproductive ideas to the next generation.
Cramming in a fast paced course is as unproductive as rain in Madras. Taking the time for things to sink in, apiece and using the full span of life to learn is the way to go !
rains 10 months in a year.. slow and steady.. that no one ever rushes around.. there is no disruption in life.. rain seems to be pleading "slow and steady, yet persistent ways of life makes a the city green"
In Madras,
If at all it does, it does 3 weeks in year, hard down pour, not enough reservoirs to hold the water, much of the water is wasted out to the sea with in 10 days of rain
The people you see are all in a hurry that they want to get off rain, asap. The people of Madras show an unwelcome attitude to the rain, that rain stopped showing its face these days. Worst water scarcity in history, today.
Nature teaches human kind a lot of things in subtle unknown ways. Rain was just another example. In today's modern world, with people getting busier by the day, atrocities galore. People are in a forceful rush attending their business that they often forget that benefits are better in persistent and slower ways of life. I am not advocating easier lifestyles but just some styles that gives her the time to fathom whatever is happening around her. Persistence pays, not pressure. A political campaign- vehement and forceful slogans often preaching non-cooperation to the youngsters of tomorrow ; A Murder - a exhibition of forceful brutality; cheating and manhandling a next-door neighbor (http://sbcbrutes.blogspot.com. You must have read this via the Email forward carrying the import of this link. ) , are all exhibitions of man-made attempt to forceful invasion trying to achieve supremacy teaching unproductive ideas to the next generation.
Cramming in a fast paced course is as unproductive as rain in Madras. Taking the time for things to sink in, apiece and using the full span of life to learn is the way to go !
Friday, October 07, 2005
Mani Aji
My grand ma .. my cousins and I would affectionately call her mani aji. She lives with my cousins in Triplicane, Madras now. It is the house that we virtually grew up, though I actually only visited during my holidays.. She is my maternal grandmother.
Just as I think of her, many memories flow over.... Many many fond memories, today I am thousands of miles away from her. I speak to her may be once a month, definitely this soul whose every breath and wish is our well being deserves more than that.
Her life made her strong. She was born rich, can you believe, she was taken around on a parade, around the city on a palanquin, to celebrate her first birthday. Born with the silver spoon, she lost her father when she was 5. She grew with no siblings. But she had plenty of cousins who she would dearly call Anna. Her mom, thankfully was well off to bring her up. According to the custom, she was married off in style when she was only 13. She would recount, she was made to agree to the wedding saying " Adi Tissue Saree vangi tharuvanga di" .. not that she would know how to disagree with what elders told her.. And there you go she was happily married. Her first child, when she was 15, passed away with in 10 days of its birth. btw, that was my uncle. He was a blue baby. Then they discovered that she had high blood pressure. She has been on pills ever since. With heavy treatment of pills, she delivered four children, the second of them is my mom. But her blood pressure would not come down - till date. When she was 29, the worst thing happened. Her husband, my grand-father passed away peacefully in sleep. He was not known to have any illness. It was a total shock, the least expected. Its hard to imagine how she could stand though those times and successfully bring up four children, the eldest of whom was 14 when this happened. The youngest was a mere 5. A lady in the 30s, with hardly a 8th standard schooling, high blood pressure, no means of income and four children to take care of came out of her immense grief. She is a woman of extreme courage, faith in God and goodness epitome. She is the most successful woman I have heard / come across. To me, she is larger in life than the most intelligent people that walked this earth.
She stands tall .. in my mind now and always.
Her tribulations continued.. She was operated on umpteen times, her uterus, her gall bladder and her appendix. "Virtually, my stomach is empty", she would jokingly recount. She taught me to laugh at my troubles, smile at their smallness in comparison to God, to His strength, to His power and to my faith.
She followed a custom of lighting "Shravana Deepa". She would light one for each son /daughter/son-in-law/daughter-in-law/grandkids she has to take care of. A month typically has 2 Shravana Deepa days, when she would light these lamps for the well-being of us. Every time, a kid was added to the family, her son got married, lamp count would get incremented. Her beliefs and prayers go a long way into making us what we are. She would carry with her, this set of lamps when ever she goes out of town, to make sure she does not miss Sharavana Deepa. She has not missed one yet. If she is too busy, she would get up at 4 am and finish it before the world wakes up and looks for her help.
Every summer holidays, I would come to stay with her and we would make great friends. She will take me to the market in the evenings, to the temple and to the beach. We would read "Washington il Kalyanam" together. We would buy mango and make thokku. I would help her make 'vadaam' and stealthily eat the maavu kept for 'vadaam'. Then, we would walk up to the terrace to spread it out. It was a lovely experience. We will boil water, make Rasna and store it in the first fridge we had. We would go to Hindu High School to listen to "Katha" recited by some Shastri. I hardly remember their names.. but I remember enjoying the evening sitting in the sand and making hills. When there is an interesting scene in the story, like Sita being carried away or Kumbakarnan coming to the battle, I would get excited and listen with awe to the story. We would shop for flowers and she would make a long flower plait for me and make me a bride ! When I grew up, she respected my changing tastes, she would happily buy me a pair of Jeans at Rex Fashions, would not force me to have flower plait ( I miss it today though ). She got us (my cousins and I) permission to watch the India vs Pakistan Independence cup match played at Chepauk. This was my last school summers. Off to work, summer holidays stopped coming. :( I get to meet her less often than I would want to.
She is well informed, talks about politics, cricket, cinema, TNPCEE, F1, H1 and GRE. In ways she does not know, she has influenced me positively. While I was still at school and did not have any big plans about under-grad, I over heard her say to one of her friends, that I was a bright student and that she was looking forward to seeing me make it big. Not sure if I were even close to it, but it kindle my enthusiasm to study. So long, a lethargic student started to at least work hard. She would build contacts around our extended family with people whose sons/daughters are 16 and ask them to guide me !!!! Sounds interesting here ? She sure did. We have had hot debates on non-vegetarianism, alcoholism etc and have gladly lost. Today I am a vegan !!
I sure owe her a lot, I owe her more than what I have given her. The influences they have made on me is profound and irreversible, the power that she had taught me a lot of things. It taught me I am not lost until I think I am. And I can refuse to think I am. What a bold and accomplished lady she has been.. a spring of energy, love, tenderness, poise and will power. I thank YOU for the wonderful opportunity I have to be her grand-daughter.
Love you mani aji.
Just as I think of her, many memories flow over.... Many many fond memories, today I am thousands of miles away from her. I speak to her may be once a month, definitely this soul whose every breath and wish is our well being deserves more than that.
Her life made her strong. She was born rich, can you believe, she was taken around on a parade, around the city on a palanquin, to celebrate her first birthday. Born with the silver spoon, she lost her father when she was 5. She grew with no siblings. But she had plenty of cousins who she would dearly call Anna. Her mom, thankfully was well off to bring her up. According to the custom, she was married off in style when she was only 13. She would recount, she was made to agree to the wedding saying " Adi Tissue Saree vangi tharuvanga di" .. not that she would know how to disagree with what elders told her.. And there you go she was happily married. Her first child, when she was 15, passed away with in 10 days of its birth. btw, that was my uncle. He was a blue baby. Then they discovered that she had high blood pressure. She has been on pills ever since. With heavy treatment of pills, she delivered four children, the second of them is my mom. But her blood pressure would not come down - till date. When she was 29, the worst thing happened. Her husband, my grand-father passed away peacefully in sleep. He was not known to have any illness. It was a total shock, the least expected. Its hard to imagine how she could stand though those times and successfully bring up four children, the eldest of whom was 14 when this happened. The youngest was a mere 5. A lady in the 30s, with hardly a 8th standard schooling, high blood pressure, no means of income and four children to take care of came out of her immense grief. She is a woman of extreme courage, faith in God and goodness epitome. She is the most successful woman I have heard / come across. To me, she is larger in life than the most intelligent people that walked this earth.
She stands tall .. in my mind now and always.
Her tribulations continued.. She was operated on umpteen times, her uterus, her gall bladder and her appendix. "Virtually, my stomach is empty", she would jokingly recount. She taught me to laugh at my troubles, smile at their smallness in comparison to God, to His strength, to His power and to my faith.
She followed a custom of lighting "Shravana Deepa". She would light one for each son /daughter/son-in-law/daughter-in-law/grandkids she has to take care of. A month typically has 2 Shravana Deepa days, when she would light these lamps for the well-being of us. Every time, a kid was added to the family, her son got married, lamp count would get incremented. Her beliefs and prayers go a long way into making us what we are. She would carry with her, this set of lamps when ever she goes out of town, to make sure she does not miss Sharavana Deepa. She has not missed one yet. If she is too busy, she would get up at 4 am and finish it before the world wakes up and looks for her help.
Every summer holidays, I would come to stay with her and we would make great friends. She will take me to the market in the evenings, to the temple and to the beach. We would read "Washington il Kalyanam" together. We would buy mango and make thokku. I would help her make 'vadaam' and stealthily eat the maavu kept for 'vadaam'. Then, we would walk up to the terrace to spread it out. It was a lovely experience. We will boil water, make Rasna and store it in the first fridge we had. We would go to Hindu High School to listen to "Katha" recited by some Shastri. I hardly remember their names.. but I remember enjoying the evening sitting in the sand and making hills. When there is an interesting scene in the story, like Sita being carried away or Kumbakarnan coming to the battle, I would get excited and listen with awe to the story. We would shop for flowers and she would make a long flower plait for me and make me a bride ! When I grew up, she respected my changing tastes, she would happily buy me a pair of Jeans at Rex Fashions, would not force me to have flower plait ( I miss it today though ). She got us (my cousins and I) permission to watch the India vs Pakistan Independence cup match played at Chepauk. This was my last school summers. Off to work, summer holidays stopped coming. :( I get to meet her less often than I would want to.
She is well informed, talks about politics, cricket, cinema, TNPCEE, F1, H1 and GRE. In ways she does not know, she has influenced me positively. While I was still at school and did not have any big plans about under-grad, I over heard her say to one of her friends, that I was a bright student and that she was looking forward to seeing me make it big. Not sure if I were even close to it, but it kindle my enthusiasm to study. So long, a lethargic student started to at least work hard. She would build contacts around our extended family with people whose sons/daughters are 16 and ask them to guide me !!!! Sounds interesting here ? She sure did. We have had hot debates on non-vegetarianism, alcoholism etc and have gladly lost. Today I am a vegan !!
I sure owe her a lot, I owe her more than what I have given her. The influences they have made on me is profound and irreversible, the power that she had taught me a lot of things. It taught me I am not lost until I think I am. And I can refuse to think I am. What a bold and accomplished lady she has been.. a spring of energy, love, tenderness, poise and will power. I thank YOU for the wonderful opportunity I have to be her grand-daughter.
Love you mani aji.
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