a soft tinkle

I was doing something, when i heard the pleasant sound of anklets. I thought of determining it's origin. No. I didn't venture out. Plunked somewhere in my house, i listened to the sound.

Beautiful, it trapped me it's folds. High and low pitches altered with each other, granting footsteps the splendor of being accomapanied by endearing notes. Like that of a hundred tiny bells being shaken together. Like a stream flowing over pebbles, sand.... to reach it's destination.

I listened for quite a while. It left me surprised, for i could savour those delicious notes for quite some time. Lady luck was shining on me. The girl/lady whose feet it adorned spent those ten minutes walking in front of my house. A preposterous idea, yet it provided me sheer happiness.

Later, i felt the same resound in my ears. Was i dreaming? No, i still could hear those anklets. Probably another girl was on a strolling in the vicinity of my house. Was there a procession of women in front of house? With anklets, of course.....

Cut off from the sound, i pondered... who broke the trance.... Again, somebody was flying down the staircase, stepping into the verandah on the ground floor. She was in a hurry. After some time, i could hear her climbing the steps.

I don't know the reason behind her trips up and down those flight of steps. While, i submitted myself to the tinkle of anklets. A pair of anklets.

a reminder

Little things remind us of great moments.

My mother was cleaning the cupboard. She was trying to pull me into it. Knowing the stubborn in me, she persuaded. Later, i had to to help her. For i feared. She could dispose something very nice.

Things piled up on the floor. She asked me whether 'a' particular thing was important or not. Finally, nothing could be be catogarized as disposable. Mother lamented. Yes, i told her. The same rubbish had to fill space.

Isn't it amazing that these insignificant things bring joy to our hearts?

They make us smile. Again. A particular watch is precious, for it reminds me of a friend. The wonderful time that i spent with her(a patch-up after an argument). A pen, which reminds me of another. K used to come up to me, and pinch my cheeks. She loves to do that.

A candle which S gave. For the relationship we share. A strange kind. A ribbon which somebody gave....

On sighting these, i go down memory lane, trying to recollect those beautiful instances.

A colored ribbon.....a sentence in somebody's handwriting.....a pen.... eating bhel-puri....a little girl in porcelain......a clock.....a book... a vase....a candle.....

a fine balance

One of the things that i appreciate about being a human being is the ability to tide over unfavorable conditions. We try to push dark, unhappy moments into the depth of our mind. While we glean happy, cheerful memories form amongst the lot. Afterall, these instances make us worth the life that we've been granted by providence.

A Fine Balance

-Rohington Mistry
Published by faber and faber, penguin

I read this book. Again. Probably for the fifth time. I'm not sure. A motivator in many ways, i was pulled into the folds of the book, this time too.

What struck or disheartened me the most is the manner in which the author ended the plot. Maneck returned home, after a long stint in Dubai. To attend his father's funeral. The father whom he had loved a lot. A mother waited for him.

He returns to see the country in flames. Sikhs were butchered. An aftermath of the assasination of Indira Gandhi.

He is dissapointed, that his parents sent him far-away to Dubai, though they never really wished to do so. He is upset that the aunty with whom he had stayed as a paying-guest, now had to to live off her brother's money. For the fact that the two tailors who had made his stay as a paying-guest beautiful, were reduced to begging. For his friend, Avinash, who was brutally murdered, in return for being a member of the Student-union at college.

Defeated, Maneck throws himself in front of a train. What about his mother who waited for that son who had promised to resign from the job at Dubai, and go back to her. She waited for her son to come back to the hills.

Are we so weak, that we fail to face sorrow? Don't we stand above all other beasts for this particular feature. That which makes us shrugg off melancholy. Inviting a fresh beginning, anticipating laughter filled days in our future. Waiting for warmth to envelope us again?

I still think, that our strength lies in we gaining knowledge from bygone, grim, memories. Enhancing our capacity to overcome similar ones with vigour, and finish this race with fulfillment.

your's forever, hype

At last, the wedding of the year(?) is over. More than it being a reason to celebrate(like it concerns me), it provides me relief. Now, i can actually watch some 'news' on tv. I, also can hear sensible matter on the radio, rather than where Rai and Bachchan junior are to honeymoon. Fortunately, the print media kept it low key.

The other day(night rather), i had cnn-ibn running on my tv. It showed two people hang outside the gates of the Bachchan household. They, were, in fact, trying to reason why 'a' star was not attending the celebrations. Silly, mindless stuff. If anybody did watch the show, i'm sure she/he will agree with me. Who cares if X, Y, Z..... etc did not participate. Moreover, let Rai and Bachchan marry, why the hullaballo?

To my chagrin, nothing worthwhile was being aired on any of the channels. And i had to keep myself awake, unless my parents wished to spend the night on the road.

Have we become so addicted to 'icons', that we hardly care for anything else. Let a marriage be a marriage. Not a scoop. Not a 'breaking news', being flashed, which makes me linger on that channel for some more time. Thinking that there is something after all. It only adds to my desparation.

Let somebody purchase umpteen number of benarasi sarees... let they offer prayer at a particular temple..... let them vanish from the surface from the earth.... and maybe never return at all.

Hype and never-ending hype! And the visual media is booming in India. With more channels in the foray.

The icing: we like it!

God bless!

a golden habit

I'm so thankful to my parents for introducing me to reading. It's one habit that accompanies anyone, anytime, provided that person has an inclination towards reading.

I think i've been reading since early childhood. I don't know how it gets one interested. Does bed-time story-telling impact us?

The reading habit has been a companion during journeys... while waiting for a bus... during the wait at the diagnostic centre....at dinner.... when watching tv.... in class, sitting in the first bench.... in the library at college. I seriously don't know what i would have done, if not for this ritual of mine.

I used to visit this particular library, in my childhood. Father, M and i used to go there, once in a fortnight. Savouring different books, at one go. At a loss, finding it tough to choose a particular title, or a specific author.

Now, i'm exploring, trying different authors or varied subjects. It appears difficult. And fortunately, i've not regretted my decision.

Childhood, is one instance when, habits are usually formed. One habit that can and should be inculcated is that of reading. A learning process, it teaches a child so much, to be humble, tolerant, cheerful, friendly...

Enlightenment!

the fairness quotient

Fairness is one quality that surpasses all others. With respect to the selection of heroines, brides, bridegrooms.... The list is not long, but isn't that sufficient? When a baby is born, it is approved, only when it is fair.

We are so bent upon it. A person is termed beautiful, only if she/he is fair. I've spent so much time and energy convincing my mother that fairness is not everything. I must say, i've succeeded, to a considerable extent.

We belong to the tropics, which calls for high amounts of melanin to be present, simply to withstand the kind of heat that occurs in this region. Indians' are generally of wheat-coloured complexion. I am on the darker side. I don't have any qualms about it. There's no sound reason behind me having it, either. A multitude of creams flood the market, which makes the skin fairer, within a stipulated amount of time. While, the consumers seem to be asking for more. No wonder, we've fair creams being used by the men as well.

Talking about our dear 'icons', all of them are fair. If not totally fair, they are definately not on the darker side. Moreover, we follow their habits, thinking that one of us can make it to the big screen one day. When we think about this, it is very foolish, silly.... But haven't many advertisements been created with the above as their brilliant idea.

'This young dark woman(who is generally dressed in dark colours, ill-fitting if necessary) is walking past some shop, and she sights this product which aims at her being fair. Later we are shown that she is fair and beautiful(her face is made-up, and she is wearing a pink gown). A director walks by her. Upon noticing her qualities, she is inducted into the cinema. The next slide shows her making news as a successful star(?)'

While, we talk about being broad-minded and all that.

MCC moments

Time spent at BBC on saturdays.... drawing histology diagrams.... listening to music.... gossiping about 'wordly issues'........ talking about our families, finding a simple joke hilarious, laughing our hearts out, courtsey the evergreen bts'.... snacks being puri-unde(Indu was so fascinated by it, which led to an argument, Bhavya had to interfere and give both of us, one each) Bhavya, thank you!!!

Those discussions that i had with Sindhu and Indu. The 'adult' topics that we discussed... the noises that we made, when an unwanted call had to answered by Indu. It seemed so perfect.

The never-ending sessions of pictionary that we carried out in Micro Lab. And the dumb-charades that followed, with the entire class pitching in. Not to forget, the 'Post-it' competition which we won. We created such a ruckus. I was jumping most-of-the-time! And the gifts were duly distributed amongst the seventeen of us. All of a sudden, Post-it paraphernalia was raining on third year CZMs'.

The oohing and aahing during Cul-Ah.... during the embryology film show.... on hearing the very sad story of a lecturer, upon classifying me(one has got to hear this)!!

The staff, who made my time spent at MCC wonderful. The dean who walked upto me and said, 'Mouna, you do look scary', when i had worn a t-shirt which states 'I am scary'. An english lecturer, who used to enquire about us, every time we met. Our darling C, who used to dramatise chemistry.

The plum cake that i pestered S and Sh to pick up, during the Christmas celebrations in my first year. They did, for my sake. Incidently both of them don't like plum-cake, so i took home their share as well. When S had to prepare for her Italian exam, and we were helping(?) her concentrate, again at the BBC.

Our trips to the canteen, where i always sucked on grape candy. My lips, teeh and tongue acquired a weird shade of magenta. My teeth looked disgusting, but grape candy is simply marvelous.

Kachoris', apple cakes, samosas' at the mobile canteen. MCC has about 4-5 food joints, providing us with a wide variety to choose from. Most of it is edible though.

The afternoon that S, Sh and me spent talking in front of room 1. One of my most memorable moments. The secret santas' that we played(secret valentine this year), the lunch at Macdonalds, at the food court at Garuda Mall.

Movies were watched. Skipping classes, planning way ahead of time. We were almost thrown out of Symphony. 'Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire' was played, and we created such a racket in the theatre. We always did that whenwe went to Symphony. Again, we viewed MI-3 there, only to make fun of Tom Cruise, and those gadgets which appeared comical.

To be continued....

PS: I don't know how one will take this post, but i felt like posting something on my time spent at MCC. Cheers!

During childhood, we discover many new words. Everyday. Which at times do not carry any meaning with them(at that point of time). for instance, M and me call our father appaji( one of the means by which a father is addressed). B, my neice also addesses my father in the same manner. Without realising the meaning behind it. Another example, regarding B; my mother is a doDDamma(an elder woman who plays the role of amother), to B's mother R. My mother is known to B as doDDamma. Again, without comprehending the reason behind this.

We are taught so much in our childhood(early childhood, especially). And above all this, we trust those words. Words which are new. Fancied by us, they are incorporated in our daily usage. Those words always find their mark. Later in life, the importance of such seemingly irrelevant incidents strikes us. Communication is one good entity that we are blessed with. It waits for us to appreciate it's greatness.

And the mind of a child which picks up new words, associates a word with a particular object. While a relationship between the two is etched in the mind.

Such is the magnanimity of creation.

Somehow i've been feeling terrible from the past few days. Angry, rather, at myself. I always did what i always hated. I really don't what started it off.

I hate judging others'. It makes me feel disgusting. Who am i judge others'? Father always tells me that each one of us is different. To leave things as they are. I was caught up with judging(a lot!!) since a few weeks. And the whole of last week was spent in getting rid of this stupid habit. I tried so much, yet in vain..

Well, it's time, and i really need to get this off me. How wonderful was it when i used to be otherwise! My heart used to be so light, and filled with such joy. The last semester at college used to be so much fun.

Why have i become so critical? Its' time that i shed this pest off my shoulders. I am trying my best!!!!

Amen.

touche'

It's drizzling. A soft pitter-patter. The day was windy, we could feel the breeze caress our face. While we debated whether to enter the class or not. It was pleasant. It being accentuated with the smell of wet earth. While we still could savour yesterday's programme.

The sky outside my window appears blue laced with red. A signal that indicates rain, time and again. A blushing sky.

A slight drizzle pitter-patters gently, to kiss the parched ground. Raindrops can be heard on the window-shield. Silence provides suitable company.

Water continues to fall from the red sky. For quite some time. It disappears very quickly. Like a rabbit leaping into a secure environment of bushes.

I am keen. Expecting. In the midst of a mundane schedule; running between classes.... trying to keep track of practical classes.... sipping water on the way to the bus-stop..... warding away mosquitoes.... shopping for groceries....

Raindrops will soon touch me. Communication, between the heaven and me....once in a while.....

shades of blue

Blue is a pleasant colour. It adds beauty to anything mundane.

Various shades of blue play in front of my eyes. They reminds me of the bounty that surrounds us. A wide sky attains varied tones of the colour.

A cascade of colours takes place before us. From a blue tinged with yellow in the morning.... an empowering blue in the afternoon... to a blue merged with purple, orange, pink during sunset. And a deep turquoise that surrounds me when the cloud is heavy with clouds.

At one point of time, i was so obsessed with the colour; blue, all my paintings had to have blue in it. Even when using MS-Paint at home, i give blue a prominent position. One might shrug it off, but i'm simply bewitched by it.

Being a primary colour, it plays a very important role. Cyan, a mixture of green and blue, yellow and blue gives red. Again, assorted hues of the same can be obtained, by adding more or less of white or black. And the thickness and the thiness of the colour, can be easily determined by adding water. Aqua-blue, ultramarine blue, indigo, prussian blue, persian blue, were some of the colours that i used regularly.

Speaking of water, the colour blue indicates water. Ranging from raindrops, to the aqua green of the seas.

Blue is freshness, calmness, beauty, happiness all encompassed into one.

tejaswi, nature and us

We were introduced to Poornachandra Tejaswi in high school, class 9, i think. The cover looked nice, with a picture of two birds. Characteristic of Kuvempu's books. Well, the son carried the same, didn't he?

They say that second generations usually cannot contribute, as much as the first generation does. Kuvempu and Poornachandra Tejaswi. The latter did prove his worth. Creating new waves that differentiated him from the rest of the crowd

I devote most of my time to indian literature just as father cherishes kannada literature. I started off with indian literature with bengali works, i guess. With respect to kannada literature i've hardly read any, except for few. Out of compulsion. Simply because, they were included in the academic syllabus.

Mrs. Renuka Gowda taught kannada in school. Moreover we had two(?) text books. Tejaswi's simple language, made me pursue his short stories. Parisarade Kathe was assigned to us. A beautiful compilation of short stories. He would materialize from thin air. Narrating his experiences. Dialogues between, a father and a kid, a master and a worker, a husband and a wife, animal and humans, all took place before me.

His style of writing was easy to savour. Unadorned with complexities, they pulled me into them. Pulled me into their pure environment.

Tejaswi sir, your works of effortless literature have filled in me, a sense happiness.....a sense of freshness in me. Something that will, i hope, remain eternal, through your words.

Inshallah!

Kali Ganga

Kali Ganga

-Mahabaleshwar Sail
Translated by Vidya Pai.
Published by National Book Trust(NBT)

I picked this book at the Bangalore Book festival, about two years back. I don't erally know the reason behind me opting for this book. I guess, the painting on the cover page made me do so. Anyways, i was impressed with some NBT books, which i had read on previous occasions. I still remember reading books that they published for children. A gripping story and good grammer made them interesting.

Well, coming back to Kali Ganga, it talks about a family and it's future. Here, i came across two sisters. Well i won't be wrong if i say that the plot revolves around both of them. Though it begins on a happy note, the same does not continue for long. Disturbances in the family, arise frequently.

When, i did reach the fag end of the story, i felt wretched. For two reasons; one being the book and the other, for the weak personalities that we possess.

Disasters visit the family every now and then. I didn't acknowledge it much on my first read. Something made me read it once again. Both the sisters' face them with such determination, and strong will. I was taken aback by the kind of power-talk that the book emphasises on.

I'm doubly sure that i would not have reacted with such resolve. Simply mind-blowing. The courage that is hiden behind those actions, behind those words, is to be appreciated.

A motivator, the book implies on only one aspect, that is; the will of a person. That which helps him/her navigate his path, through obstacles. That which induces positive thinking.

diffusing light

It glittered in the sunlight. Radiating various colours. It made the sultry weather forgettable. Many were floating in the air. Light. Soft. A wonderful entity presented to us by the all-time fascinating providence.

Children belonging to different ages groups went behind them, before they could burst. Unfortunately, they did. Even an endearing move, failed to grasp it. One light touch and it would burst, releasing minute droplets into the surronding atmosphere. Astonishment diffused. They disappeared, much to the chagrin of others. How delicious would it have been, if one cold savour it's transient lifespan.

Another bunch were released into the air. They wandered aimlessly, rising to higher levels, carried by indeterminable air currents.

Leaping and crying in joy, she tried to possess it. She attracted attention. While the rest of the group faded into oblivion. Disapointed, in having not succeeded, she turned her back towards them. But, she found them irresistable. This feature made her persuade others', which had the freshness in them. Existing in different sizes, some tiny, and some too big. Those small hands could not enclose them within protective space.

Once again, her felt defeated.

She walked back a few steps. Her parents were sitting on the soft grass some distance away. She turned back to have one last look at them. One long lingering look. An all encompassing view.

The pleasant warmth of a smile spread across her face. Floating in air, they provided one a pretty sight. They appeared beautiful this way. An attempt to hold them in a pair of hands, destroyed their magnificent, yet temporary existence.

Bubbles rose above her. Blown into perfect circles with the help of a tube whose capillary was small. Though they are made of elementary, colourless soap solution. They shimmered in the bright sunlight.

Spreading light in every direction.