Pattukutti !!!

My Kitchen

The kitchen is not a pleasant sight, if you have your dishes undone and you are in a hurry to cook something for your dinner.  Crumbled onions’ outer coverings and drops of water that lie all over my dining area makes my migraine worse. This isn’t the way my day is supposed to start. The drumming sound of the compressor in my refrigerator sent a mild shiver in amidst of the cold weather. With my milk going sour, the black tea was the only choice to soothe my parched throat. My palms were cupping the mug to enjoy the little warmth of my tea. I know I can be rude and mean sometimes, before moving further, let me introduce myself. I m Amuda… Amuda Rajasekar.

That’s how they call me, but I m here to talk about Amuda and not Amuda Rajasekar. A girl born in a quiet little town in Tamil Nadu, where it showered every month and housed no crimes. I came to Melbourne to pursue my lost dreams of my childhood; the fantasies that I craved for when I rotted in voids in the name of rooms. The girl, Amuda transformed or went through metamorphosis to become a woman, ironically ending up in a cocoon called as marriage. A failed marriage but the butterfly is out in a new tinsel habitat with a new companion, Parvati.

I was married to Rajasekar rather than saying, “I married Rajasekar”. Everything starts pretty good with beaming smiles all over, but once days and my age started to wane, life took a drastic turn. My marriage souring up like my milk and me shedding my surname ‘Rajasekar’ like an old skin. I neither believed in God nor in fate until Parvati came into my life. Parvati, my 17 year old daughter seems to be the lone solace after my years of struggle. Right now, I need to make my dinner, before that I need to alleviate my migraine. Before moving to Parvati, let me dump some potatoes in the pan to make some curry.

The noise in the name of music that escapes from Parvati’s room seems to reverberate my old home. Parvati is a spoiled brat but still she can be a mother to keep a tab on me. She knows a lot more than me, like online stuffs, using apps to go places and all tech savvy stuffs. Having spent your childhood in a posh environment and western culture, it’s no wonder; Parvati could know so much, which I had barely dreamed of. She is a guitarist, sorry electric guitarist, that’s how she wants me to say. I wonder if they have categories in being a guitarist.

She wants to be a rock star, that’s her dream. The guys who haven’t been to saloons and but lives happily in marijuana.  Now she wants to go her friend’s birthday party. I don’t have any issues of her attending a party, but as a mother I can’t allow my daughter to go to a bar with five guys. So she is furious and not talking to me since this issue has turned up in our routine. Now she tries to piss me off by her amplifiers. What I see behind the door is my pattukutti, Parvati and her dumb argument waiting for an upheaval. Okay let’s take one at a time, I m going to knock her door.

Spoiled Brat

Parvati stepped out of her room after me yelling her name… I know it was a stupid thing to do when the speakers go in full blast, that’s how mothers can be sometimes.

Wassup ma ??

Turn down the volume Parvati? You ll lose ur ears if u r hearing like this…

Phew! (with a sigh) what’s your problem ma? Do I need to ask permission even to hear music??

No Pattukuti !!! I don’t want my child to go deaf. What shall I make for your dinner?

I m done with my dinner, you fix something for u.. (Parvati was shaking her head as if my answer offended her)

What did u eat? The maida stuffs?? Pizza’s are no good for you. You look skinny, Parvati!!!

Amma !!! Please stop ur godammn suggestions and advice for every fucking thing!!!

Parvati!!! Watch your language!!! Where do you learn such things?

From you!!! When u and dad were fighting...

(Damn!! I cursed myself and her answer felt like a blow across my face, leaving me to shut my mouth)

Are you done with ur questions ma? Shall I go now?

Parvati !! I m your mom, don’t see me as a folly!!!

Oh great!! Thanks for reminding me that! But you don’t sound like one…

Stop ur stupid mockery, Parvati! Don’t you understand why I don’t want you to go the party???

As a matter of fact, No!!! Don’t you see how parents treat their children here??? All my school mates go out with guys, I m the one who does nothing, but bull shit!!!

You don’t get my point… we’re Indians and we have our own tradition. Moreover, I m a mother who wants her kid in a safe haven than in a pub.

Amma! We’re in bloody Australia, not in ur shitty village!!! You want all swanky stuffs and education from them, but not their culture.. Bullshit ma!!!

Stop it Parvati!! I don’t think their education has done much to you, other than using your smart phone and a rich vocabulary of shit words. Try to imbibe the good things from them…

I don’t find anything wrong in going to a concert, ma!!! Those guys are really cool ma!! You don’t know how much the thing means to me!!! Do you???

Pattukutti!!! You are in your adolescence, everything looks good and attractive, but they aren’t? Let me cook something for my sweet heart.

Stop treating me like a kid!!! I’m 17 godammitt!!! I know what’s a fucking condom, also to clear your doubts; I don’t have any plans of getting laid in the party. 

I know my involuntary muscles got the better of me, that’s what you expect when your child speaks such gibberish that rips your heart. This time the blow was across Parvati’s cheek. I slapped her. She didn’t say a word; perhaps she was surprised of my act. I could see tears brimming her eyes; anger and embarrassment basking her face. I felt like crying and hugging her, but her harsh words and anger was keeping me in bay. With few minutes of silence hanging in thin air, which seemed like hours, Parvati went into her room and banged the door. I learnt two things, never ever beat your child, no matter what they do, the next one is, don’t try an argument with potatoes in the stove.

Heralds of spring

My presentation for tomorrow’s lecture came to a halt, when the phone came alive with it’s stupid ring tone. Every time it rings, it leaves a sickening feel in my stomach. After her tantrums, Parvati finally went to the party this evening. I don’t want to see tears in her eyes, perhaps she’s the only soul left for me and now this phone doesn’t sound good. When I lifted the receiver, I heard a thick Australian accent,

Is this Parvati’s residence??? If so, can I speak to Amuda Rajasekarrrrr ???

I know something was wrong, with fear sucking in my breath, I choked for my words, “yup, this is Amuda speaking!!!”

We’re calling from Monash Medical Centre, we have a situation here. It seems your daughter and couples of her friends were assaulted by couple of hooligans in the local pub. She is hurt but nothing to worry, just superficial ones.

The floor below me was moving, I was about to lose my control, but the voice at the other end shoved my mind. “Just say she is alive, please say, my Parvati is alive!!!”

Amuda?? Are you here with me??? Your daughter is alive; we’re located in Clayton locality. If you could….

                The next moment I was in my car, with my ignition keys twisting the lock.  Tires were screaming due to friction and my engines whined, every time I stepped on my pedal.  After agonizing minutes of my travel, I pulled my car just in front of the hospital, without minding the security yelling at me, for parking there. With anxious moments binding me, I stepped in to a room with bold letters embedded on it – Trauma centre-Level 3

                Parvati looked small in the bed which was lying in a scary white room. She was breathing slowly with a sling that hooked her elbow and neck. The nurse beside was busy checking the IV and managed a weak smile, saying that everything is going to be alright.

                The patient is on a pain killer, she needs some rest, could please wait outside madam?

                When I was about to turn back, a voice echoed the room, “amma!!!” I saw Parvati was trying to hold my fingers with her lips trembling.

                “Am I still ur Pattukutti, ma? “

                After a long time, my self control got shattered leaving me in a déjà vu. The night when I saw a bunch of divorce papers waiting for my signature. The night in which I lost my strength; the night which ended my marriage; but tonight I m vulnerable to the love of my child. Probably this night will end in a new day. With tears running down my cheeks, I gripped her arms and said,

                “No matter what you do, you‘ll always be my Pattukutti!!!”  

Author' Note: I m deeply grateful for all, who have been buzzing me with honest critics and a pat when I come up with a decent one. If not I wouldn't be kissing my 30 th blog now. If you really like this story, try to share in the social networking sites, which you earn me a lame publicity. :P 

Pieces of my past

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Every day bears it’s own recipe; a recipe that’s quite unique and never tries to replicate another one. This day was one such with its own blend of joy, happiness and tinged with grief. I was sitting in my bed with arms perfectly rested beside me and my toes down on one side of the bed. The quiet battle orchestrated between my grey cells and retina. Some could say that, something was eating up my mind, with my eyes locked with the limbs. My eyes were trying to focus on the wiggling of my toes, but my brain failed to indulge in such cheap pleasures.

All this melodrama came to an end, when I heard my mom calling my name, perhaps a nickname ‘bobby!!! Do a final check with your passport and visa papers!’ I was all set to leave Australia for my research program. The much awaited day of my life and perhaps the most important rung in my career ladder. Things have started to move with alacrity in the last couple of weeks. It was an acid trip for me with my mind caught in a whirlpool of events that has occurred in the last couple of days.

Felt a shot of adrenalin pumping in my blood, when my feet touched the bathroom floors. I never knew how I made it to the bathroom with my mind lost in a labyrinth of emotions. The cold water from the shower head rushed across my body and brought back my senses for a while. By now there was a whiff of steam from my mom’s idli kadai, making a mockery at my olfactory lobes. With a least resistance to this teasing appetite, I rushed myself to enjoy the breakfast.

Three idlies were lined beautifully in my plate in the form of a spade with a spoonful of coconut chutney and milagaipodi, making a perfect color balance in my plate. I wonder how long will it take for me to experience again such culinary delight. Every part of the breakfast tasted divine putting my plans in a spot of bother. My mom was making a remark, “Australia la idli kedai kadhu, ingeya nalla sapudu” (“ u won’t get idlies in Australia, so eat well”) .

How does it feel, when you know that you can’t taste your favorite filter coffee; walk across the road not caring a shit about the incoming traffic or you don’t have to wait for the signal; play the roadside cricket with broken bats and worn out cricket balls; travel in footboard in overflowing buses, just trying to catch a glimpse of that girl in red salwar; here comes the worst part, that you’ll be denied chances of watching thalaivar’s first day shows.

Man, this really sucks, wondering what I would do, being totally teleported to a different place, which is devoid of pleasures that I ve been enjoying since my childhood. I m wondering, do I really need to go through all this to earn in 5 digits and pay a sizeable amount in taxes for the Australian Government. The battle was still on inside my head, while my hands were busy trying to explore the empty pockets of my trousers.

Voices seem to echo from the living room and my brother came rushing inside the kitchen. “appa s calling!! “ Once I went inside the living room, I could find dad’s friend Chandrasekar uncle chatting with my dad.

“ enna thambi Australia kelambi achha?? “ (“ r u all set to fly Australia??”)

“ aama uncle, iniku night flight” (‘ m leaving tonight uncle”)

“aparam enna, payan Australia poi neriya earn panna poraan, inni ungaluku oru problem ila” ( once ur son earns u won’t any problem)

            I could see the hollowness dwelling in my dad’s face, but still he tried to conceal that with the smile of pride. Perhaps he was thinking about the first day of my school, where I was crying holding the bars of the window exhibiting all my tantrums. Wondering how things have changed or we‘ve been rushed through the banks of our lives when the fate was flooding.

            “ naan than romba kashta patuten, en payan atleast kashta pada koodathu,” (“I ve been toiling all my years, my son should live a comfortable life”)

            The eyes of my dad were ebbing with tears and he was looking at me, waiting for me to approve his last statement. Neither my head nodded nor words escaped from my mouth. My dad’s hands were holding my elbow, he does that when I look grim or sad, gesturing ‘everything’s going to be okay’.  I choked for words, but still I replied with my tears running down my cheek.

            “For your dreams“

Ps:
I tried to write a honest one, without much fiction. 5 digit salary and taxes are the fictional part.

PResENT mISssss !!!!

The one thing I despise the most is cleaning my shelf.  Puff of smoke that emulates when their habitat is disturbed and the sickening smell of rotten bugs give me a sickening feel.  I was standing before my age old wardrobe that never lost its sheen despite its cacophonous music at its hinges. Left with a Hobson’s choice, I was prepared for my battle. A small white cloth across my face making me a perfect cast for age old Jayshankar movies. At the recess of my book point, a small book glimmered despite laden by a continuous layer of dust.  At closer examination, the crest embedded on its cover lay majestically. The emblem of my school and it was my school diary with a simple motto- LIFE AND LIGHT. The sight of my school souvenir brought back my numb senses alive and soon I was flickering through the muddy pages of my diary.

                The pages had more remarks in red than my scribbled handwriting. Words like ‘Mid Term, Quarterly Half yearly exams, Report cards’ echoed my nightmares of my school days, which I badly missed now. Before I could linger my thoughts in that, I stumbled onto the page that brought back my wombs of my memory lane. It was the timetable of my 5th grade starting from Monday to Friday. A smile spread across my face, when I thought about the mornings after our brief vacation.  

                “The moment that I loathe the most is Monday morning! My bed sheet is over me wrapped like a cocoon while I try to gaze at the beautiful designs which appear like stars in a cloudless sky. The cries of my mom asking me to get ready while the hot water steams in the geyser.  

                 Impeccably dressed in a white and navy blue uniform with my hair neatly groomed and a perfectly drawn viboodhi on my forehead. I was sitting in my usual place near Subramaniam, who always stood first in my class. Toppers were seated next to mediocre students in order to help them, so that’s how I earned my spot. I never fell in the list of top 20 or the list of last 10, but in a group that is good for nothing. The  group that always needed a beating to push on.  

                To make matters worse, it was our first after our holidays that too it started on a Monday morning. Most of the students were silent owing to the fact that, we are likely to receive our answer papers of the Quarterly exams. I was mumbling my prayers while my friends let out a silent laughter making a mockery. Two friends of mine were prying near the door’s entrance trying to catch the glimpse of horror.

                Our Science Miss was never a horror but the big bundle of papers with twines entangled definitely wasn’t a pleasing sight. The two guys came running inside shouting, “papers!!! Miss has papers!!!”   

                The word papers made me sit upright, bringing my prayers to a sudden halt. Her strides were long and swift in reaching the dais. Once the bundle was laid in the table, she turned to face us with her traditional smile. “Students, this time my correction has been very lenient and I have awarded marks quite liberally. So I don’t want anyone standing near me begging for some more marks. Do I make myself clear?” I know this was a usual dialogue that every teacher iterates every now and then. She was no exception and joined every other in shouting “Yessss Misss!!!”

                She began calling out our roll nos. to distribute the papers and to my horror the papers weren’t in order. Whenever a roll no. slipped from her lips, my heart came to my mouth. Within couple of minutes, I knew I had to take a leak with my contents of my stomach doing all acrobatics. All the drama came to an end when my turn came and my marks hanging in thin air- 71 !!!

                I was tad disappointed that I couldn’t make it above 75, but still my mood wasn’t sober. By now Subramanian was eying my marks.

“You made 71! (With his eyes all set to bulge out from his sockets!) Good! I made only 86! If at all she awarded full marks for my long answer, I would ve touched 90 !!”

                I was looking for a perfect reply for Subramanian and I found one, “I don’t think she's mean, she has given full marks to me for that long answer! The diagram of yours doesn’t come close to a round bottom flask; it’s more of an elongated test tube”  

                I know I ve added more fuel to his burning rage, he was fuming and staring at his so called round bottom flask,

                “She can’t do this to me, I m going to ask her about this” he shoved me aside, moving furiously with the answer paper clutched in his arms. “ Misss !!! Miss!! You haven’t given me full mar…..”

            That smile never died when my school events unfolded before my eyes. Dust and bugs too joined me in this nostalgia. I was prepared to continue this crusade with more allergenic storms for company, leaving me with my 3^rd grade report grade.

PS:

   Thank you all for joining me in my journey. If I was able to kindle your memoirs of your school days with a drop a tear ebbing your eyes, please share those etched moments.  

Margazhi madal

The massive open theatre was rocking to the foot stomping numbers of Lopez. The crowd was going crazy, when the elegant figure stood poised with her newly colored hair all set to dance to the tunes. I m a single drop in an ocean of fanatics, shouting and jumping to catch a glimpse of J Lo. She just parted her lips, to spell a curse “Waiting for tonight…” the alarm went off ending my beautiful opera, my sleep and her seductive curse.  I m not ready for this, waking up around 4.30 a.m. and getting ready to meet  Lord Srinivasa Perumal for Vaikunta Ekadasi.

I could see my dad moving with ebbing alacrity and mom dressed in her newly bought green sari. I knew I can’t look for an excuse to hide my head under the pillow. My brains were standing on its hind legs and begging for the dream to continue, but my heart said, “you’ll be stationed somewhere for the next Ekadasi”.  With my thoughts still lingering over J Lo, I was ready to pay my visit and get my ticket to heavens. After waging a lone battle, I was forced to pull up my socks.

The enchanting voice of MS Subulakshmi came floating in air, welcoming the devotees to Srinivasa Perumal Temple. The blue lights adoring the temple‘s Gopuram were a treat to our eyes. People thronged in serpent queues, which never seem to have an ending. My dad was happy to experience the agonizing wait, which lay across us. Not much was left for me, than to stand here with my arms crossed across my chest. There s always someone waiting to join our boat, like the girl in front of me, cursing her mother. She was in a white shirt and a skin fit denim jeans.

I didn’t t know that I was staring at her manicured finger nails, but my mom nudged me with her elbows. Oops !!! I was like a kid caught red handed while trying to steal a cookie. Still, she s my mom, smarter than me, she asked, “ Look at you, what’s that in your chin?? Can’t you come shaved?”

“ phew!! Goatee beard ma ! I haven’t come for an interview??”

“ stop your lame excuses! You gotta be disciplined while you come to temple.”

I pointed my finger to the girl standing in front of me,” then please enlighten her”

“stop pointing !!” she was grinding her teeth, furiously. My mom pulled me behind her, putting an end to the little drama.     

           

                Tiffs and argument continued as the queue progressed forward at snail’s pace. Hymns of Thirupavai were recited; cries of ‘Govinda! Govinda!” were heard, announcing the opening of Vaikunta Vassal.  The crowd went bizarre when the Lord’s procession entered the Vaikunta Vassal. Everyone tried to shove others, losing senses, to step into the corridor of Vaikuntam.  Vaikuntam Vassal had two Brahmin priests serving us with theertham and thulasi that tasted great to my parched throat.

                After a stunning visual treat of Lord Srinivasa along with Boodevi and Sri Devi dressed in lotus garlands,  a temple official gave us sweet pongal. Wow !! It was basked in ghee and fried cashews, teasing my taste buds. When I had a handful of it in my mouth, I knew, anyone could have made me believe that earth was flat.  I doubt, if heavens were far away, nope, I don’t think so, perhaps it was sliding down my throat now.

Christmas Carol

Apocalypse

 A fine morning with a clear sky painted in chromic blue and cool breeze rustling the leaves covering the pathway of the Thomas Street. It s winter and one can feel the temperatures nearing single digits. The street wore the perfect robe of snow in dusty white color with dried leaves making a perfect topping.  The street bore its name from the chapel that stood tall amid little houses. It was a suburb that left effluent spiting industries and housed pines and maples. Houses were built in traditional style with a beautiful lawn spread across to invite butterflies and crickets.

Such a serene location was home to a young boy named Sam aged 12. He lived with his mom, Barb in a hugely furnished house in the same locality. The boy, whose blonde hair covered his ears and occasionally his brows and loves to pull back the hair that, comes in front of him; he had a perfectly chiseled face with a prominent cheek bone and small lips. He does two things without complaining, one was playing with his pet dog, Snowy. The next was hearing stories from Annie, the girl who lived next door.

 He could just stare at her, while she said trivial things that took place around her.  Annie loved the way Sam watched her, with his mouth open and face resting on his palms. Sam and Annie spent the evenings in the woods, collecting pebbles and chasing flies; they returned home once the sun goes hiding. During the last couple of days, the suburb had gone wary and dull due to rumors of the apocalypse. Sam felt that the evenings were awry because of Annie’s absence. His stomach churned, when he heard the gossip of some women in his neighborhood.

Tears came running down his cheeks when they told how God has decided to end the world by sending a fiery ball of fire. Imagining the fire destroying his pet Snowy, Annie and everyone sent shivers down his spine. He was afraid to ask his mom about the growing rumors. Many in the neighborhood felt, they won’t be alive to celebrate Christmas. Even Sam’s mom felt it was stupid to get a Christmas tree, decorate with bells and welcome the end of the world. Barb thought it was better to stack supplies in case of any emergency.  Cans of meat, milk cartons and cereals were flooding her refrigerator.  

              

It was vacation time and Sam was sitting in the kitchen, fiddling the sandwich. Barb wore an apple green colored apron with patches of her culinary arts. She was peeling the potatoes when Sam opened his mouth to speak.

“Is that true?? “ mumbled Sam.

“What?” asked Barb

“Annie told me that we all gonna die soon” said Sam. He never wanted to know her mom that he was eaves dropping when they gossip.

After a brief hesitation, she said, “ No”

“Then why didn’t u buy the Christmas tree and stars? Annie stopped playing with me too.” Said Sam

“It isn’t like that, I got held up with the kitchen stuffs Sam” said Barb with sad eyes.

“Stop lying mom! You’re hiding something. They say my Snowy and we all will die” cried Sam.

Barb knew she can’t console him; she bit her lower lip and came towards Sam. “Complete your breakfast son, we can watch Tin Tin show “

“Screw your breakfast! I m going out now.” Said Sam, controlling his tears and temper. He ran outside towards the Chapel.

St. Thomas Chapel

                The Thomas Chapel was a solitary structure in the valley; it had been painted in white after restoration leaving behind little Italian renaissance. Its interior had been restored to the original shades by using vermilion clay for the reds and blue from indigo. Tall candle sticks adored the table inside the chapel; one can see the statue of St. Mary carved in pine log above the candle sticks. The crucifix was placed in the centre with urns painted to give a glossy finish. Services in the Chapel were held on a limited basis and regardless of one's religious leanings.

              Sam was sitting alone in the empty chair, head bowed down, knuckles tightly clenched. The massive doors of the chapel opened to let an old man inside. He had a drooping walk with gloves covering his hands. He was dressed shabbily and moved slowly towards the chairs. He sat near to Sam, leaving a sigh due to exhaustion. The old man’s heavy breathing annoyed Sam’s prayer. He saw Sam was crying with his mouth muttering a prayer.

              “ …. don’t like you, God. Snowy is a poor creature, how could you destroy him. At times he leaks in Aunt Rio’s place, I ll ask him not to do that again. If the world ends, many will die, even Annie too. We both will be good friends and I won’t shove her again in the mud. I swear I ll be a good boy and I ll hate you, if you’re sending a curse to our planet” said Sam.

              The old man beside Sam laughed mockingly and he put his arm around the boy’s shoulder. This sudden act scared him a little. Sam saw the old man’s face flashing kindness and warmth.

 “What’s troubling you son?” asked the old man

“My Snowy and Annie are gonna die! Becoz of the curse by him” Sam pointed towards the altar in the cathedral.

“oh ( half jokingly )!! Hmmmm !! How do you know that? asked the old man

.

“ I heard my neighbor’s gossip . Snowy is my pet dog and Annie is my best friend. I love to hear stories from her” said Sam

“Why do you think the world is going to end?” asked the old man

“Some say the calendar of the Mayans got ended, so everything has to wrap up. I m not sure, but I guess so” said Sam

“hmmm.. If that’s the case why does God spell a curse against us, sending cannon of fire??”asked the old man.

“Probably we’re not good people!!” Sam pouted

“Son, no one knows when the world is going to end and most importantly He doesn’t send curses to us” smiled the old man.

“Didn’t you hear about the global warming thing?? It’s His work, perhaps due to Nibiru coming towards us. “ said Sam

The old man laughed his heads out,” We always like to put the blame on someone, right? We fell into evil ways and succumbed to cheap pleasures. Never bothered to fell trees or and emit harmful gases. Now we find the perfect alibi for the God, Mr. Nebula”

“ oh!! You mean to say that we’re doing bad things, just like the gun shoot in Connecticut.” Said Sam

“hmmm !!! you got it right kiddo!!!” smiled the old man

“Perhaps He should punish the guilty, not everyone. What makes you say that world isn’t going to end?” asked Sam. By now, the lad was enjoying this companion.

“Okay! You remember Victoria (the teacher who hid the children from gunmen and died in the assault) right? This planet survives only because of them. Moreover the Lord believes in giving chances, rather than execution” beamed the old man.

“You gotta liking towards Him, aren’t u??” asked Sam.

The old man smiled and stroked the young boy’s hair, “Not exactly”.

“Then why do you come here? You are pretty tired and your dress isn’t nice too “ asked Sam

“I came … “ Before the old man could finish his sentence, the doors squeaked once again, this time it was the choir boys and girls dressed in turtle neck sweaters came rushing inside the Chapel.  

“Ouch!! Mom ll be looking for me, I gotta go Oldie! Bye”-Sam left the chapel running as if his life hinged on it. 

Christmas Carol

It was Christmas morning and Sam’s home have been flooding with peers and folks. Sam in his pajamas came walking slowly towards the living room. A huge Christmas tree decorated with stars and bells stood in the room. Everyone was busy looking for their gifts, showing least interest towards Sam. A small red box was found lying below the tree. To his surprise it was addressed to him. With creeping excitement, he tore open to find a small note.

“God is around us, like the green trees and the blue ocean. Don’t always look inside the walls of a church, sometimes He likes to change his appearance – it could be a note like this or an oldie. Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year”

ashtaME , navaME n ME

What could be the best way to begin an episode or a saga?? In a recent interview, Salman Rushdie a renowned (controversial, will be more perfect) writer of modern era, told “Writing is perhaps, like a journey ………….. and the end product is often in a different stature”. I was born in a orthodox family, where ashtami , navami and ekdasi where of clinical importance. In fact they grew along with me, more of a sibling, picking up brawls and abuses. It’s no wonder; I was always the loser and my dad being the referee.

Most events of my life began in an auspicious moment, but the aftermath events or outcomes often varied. My dad was very particular in this aspect, all my exam fees was paid on (a or an) ekadasi (I wonder what article should precede ‘ekadasi’). To enrich my readers with spirituality, ekadasi is considered to be blissful (thanks to Lord Venky); Ashtami and Navami are days that can bring ill luck (Remember, Friday 13… something like that).

I asked my dad,” why is ashtami and navami so important?? Don’t you think all days are same?”He made a mocking smile at me, “Lord Rama was born on Navami and he was on exile for 14 years; Lord Krishna’s parents suffered, because he was born on Ashtami”.  Only then I realized, probably I was made to believe that these guys were capable of creating havoc even in the lives of the Almighty. I didn’t have a great start for my 12^th exams; I missed my bus, what a nice omen??? Despite all those blissful occasions to start with!!!

This affair extended even after my graduation while booking my slots for GRE exam. In this process, I had to advance my dates, pleasing my dad and pacifying my siblings (ashtami and navami!!!). My predecessors were no exception to these malicious guys; long back, when democracy was still papers, kings used to hang their pregnant wives upside down to delay child birth. Even kings feared that their empires might crumble. Now it’s aspirin, which is assisting the fathers and god fearing in-laws to have a baby at a customized day.

Having said this, many could tag me as a rationalistic guy devoted to materialism. The reality is different; my roots are quite deep into this dogma. My dad finds these doctrines to be of archaic authority, but still he doesn’t want me to face the harsh reality of failure by ignoring these signs. After all this hue and cry about superstitions, why do we have these in our lives (perhaps in calendars!!!?)

I strongly believe that it was put in or manifested to have routine. A place for everything to happen; ample time to think and act. A schedule for prayers and copulation!!!  A curriculum designed ages back, for futuristic needs. My initial note would have suggested an acerbic tone, but finally it has turned quite amiable, not because I fear my siblings (ashtami and navami). It’s the quote penned by Rushdie “Writing is perhaps, like a journey and the end product is often in a different stature”.

trichy narayanswamy balaji: Confessions

trichy narayanswamy balaji: Confessions: Every time i close my eyes,   vivid images of our cherished moments keep flashing across.... Choco classic that we shared ,   scribling...

Confessions

Every time i close my eyes,
  vivid images of our cherished moments keep flashing across....
Choco classic that we shared ,
  scriblings on the tissues we xchanged..

Chili flakes that you hated the most next to my red T shirt !!
  wherever i roam, no matter what i do ,
My heart seems to tick faster
   fondly to have your presence ....

My palms are longing for your hills and valleys
  still remember how your lip gloss tastes and fragrance pulls me
The way you cup my face in yours arms
  to look into my eyes and spill the smile

Cheeks are still wet with your first kiss
   my arms are huggin me in your absence...
When you made a decision,I smiled and said nothing,
  when you turned around, I had tears swelling my eyes,

Unending pain shearing my heart! or falling into an abyss
  or lost in a labyrinth made by her
Wish you were in a state of pensiveness or
 missing me in a lonely planet

I  had rainbows and butterflies around me
  when you came back with tears ...
I know I m laughing a bit more,
smiling a lot because of you......

I want to be in your arms,where you would
   hold me tight and never let me go.
Hug me when I'm there, miss me when I'm not,
    and love me for all eternity.

Venira iravugal !!!

Each day has its own recipe with a mix of joy & sorrow, adding a rich blend of excitement. Last Friday, indeed had some spice to it. My appointment with the dentist!!!
White coats matching ceramic tiles and a strong antiseptic odor sends down a chill down my spine. My affair with appliance (that’s how they call braces) makes me sullen. Shear pain on my incisors left me no choice, but to take this sickening exercise again. Against all odds, I made myself available for the appointment.

Hardly there was anyone in the clinic and I had to ring the bell (in fact I was toying with it). To my surprise a smart young girl stood at the doorstep with her arms crossed. She was wearing pink sandals in accord with her wrist watch. She was holding, sorry !! Hugging a book on Oral pathology (wish I was d book...)

Me: Doc??

Girl: mela poi utkaarunga , amma varu vaanga ..

The clinic was small but still it showcased all threatening equipments that make you feel bleak. With huffs and puffs there came a lady with a blissful smile, OMG!! She could have made a perfect mother for horlicks ad.

Doc: hmm.. so what do we have today??

Me: when I drink something cold, my teeth aches

Doc: with her tongs, she was examining my mouth
Holy crap... you have loads of calculus covering your teeth!!

Doc: your stain rate is quite high.

(I could barely speak because of these creepy instruments sitting in my mouth)

Me: how much?? Ah… Stain rate??

Doc: 3.5

Me: oh .. is that bad ?? what s the max.??

D: 3 .

M: ???

D: Smoking ?? Pan masala ??

M: (Great!! That’s the last thing I wanted..) Nooooh..

D: Let’s see... A bad brushing technique can cost u this..

Scaling can fix this.. It needs three sittings with each costing around 350 bucks..
(PS: Scaling means removal of scales .. cleaning the teeth…)

An ultrasonic device was creating a cacophonous atmosphere with its piezo crystal (Engineering physics..) humming an ultrasonic tune on my teeth.

In spite of this, a musical note was trying to guise this erratic sense; it was the cell phone ring tone…

D: I gotta take this !! Anu !!! Anuuu!!! Inga vaa…

Anu: I ve got my internals tom! ma !!

D: Sheela aunty s calling and its about the new flat !! jus tell him the proper technique to brush.. his mouth is laden with scales just like winter snow..

(By now Doc. was running with her phone sandwiched between her ear and shoulder, with her hands stripping her gloves and apron. Anu moved swiftly to get a brush and she was getting ready like Ms.Granger to cast her spell. That was the first time I saw her eyes, by now I know I was falling into a deep abyss, words from her mouth was like spell drawing me closer to her. Peppermint flavor seems to float around, gestures from her hands was creating a eidolon )

A: are you here ?? naan solradu puriyalaya ?? (It took me a moment to realize that she was shouting at me … )

M: m m sr sry !!! I was wondering what brush I should get … (Concealing my stupidity)

She gave a mischievous smile acknowledging my sheepish nature..

A: come tomorrow.. I ll tell …

I know i ve started to develop a fetish towards dentists,

soon oral pathology book caught my eyes---hope my wish comes true !!!

Dial L for LOVE

This is a statutory warning like those u would find in your cigarette packets, but this content can rip your rip heart and pull out your brains,if you have so.
yup this s about the guy/gal who lost themselves in a bizarre world called LOVE

Before moving to the sad part of it, lets flip through ages to find what exactly is LOVE.
Some say it is.. it is.. "

its a feeling never before

"

Some say "its a myth"
Researchers and scientists .. " hormonal rush"
Some( like me) say .. " fucking bull shit"


It all started between Adam and Eve and continues to grow from the umbilical cord of her, transferring to ages. when and how is it suppose to start, perhaps this is not an epidemic to trace out its origin and route.Lets say it begins,when a boy meets a girl or vice-verse (or) when a girl bumps over a guy ;does it start when a guy keeps looking the same girl(or)when the girl winks @ him.

In the process of finding your guy/girl we often end up @ the wrong place @ correct time.
" i like being wid u, it feels so secured "

yup, its all over dude, Cupid has blessed you with serious shit. you ll find the dullest songs to be so romantic and driving you crazy. It can make you scribble like this too...

On the contrary ,scientists say that if you are in love , then you are less prone to cardiac problem; you become more innovative (dats true, trying all methods to please him/her).Cutting all the crap, what actually happens when the bow from cupid strikes you????
If you find a girl attractive (lets say pleasing) your testosterone shoots up, with your adrenalin doing the rest.estrogen is the culprit for the love venture in women. Women show increased levels of hormonal activity, but men tend to express more.If this chemical war (dopamine, nor-epinephrine etc)happens simultaneously between them

Cupid : Now, i pronounce you both as LOVERS..

lets start digging the grave mate!!!

Once you are separated, you find your clock tick slower, junkies taking a toll on you.Dull matches and sporty wears that your guy loved; chocolates,lip gloss and the perfumes ( Blue Lady!!) adored by your gal, will go into your safes shelving your valuables!!!
Men find the best way to overcome this is to find a BAR( guys become men at the end of all dis shit) but women confide themselves with their so called friends crying & occasionally worrying about the heavy make up.

Here comes the best part, women tend to recover quite easily from all this, with their sorrow vanishing in thin air ( just like the Potters with a magic wand)

So what does men finally 've/say ....

" FUCK U BITCH .... "

There s always a ray of hope.......

something unique

Winter placing flowers as a sign of proposing to me...
        cool breeze hugging me to accept her
Showers of rain kissing my lips when i gave a sigh...
        when she made love with me ...
I was.. i .. was soaked..

     ENJOY THE RAIN

 

dats how i felt wen i saw her.........

I always believe in miracles and phrases like “we are meant to be” ….  My heart always seems to skip a beat, when I start thinking about finding the one you’ve been longing for….  I m trying to find if I’ve been suffering from any auditory hallucinations,  but I cud still hear symphonies which neither Mozart  or rahman  would’ve dreamed …. I know all this happened when I saw her …

                I can’t stop me from doing this; I could feel something churning in my stomach... her chestnut colored hair dancing to my whistle. Oh my God!!!! I didn’t know I could whistle until I saw her. I was staring into her eyes; someone has 2 stop me from composing a ballad for her (I m neither Keats nor Frost to do this!). 

              CANT WAIT 2 SEE HER AGAIN>>>>>>>