Resting unrest

A sense of restlessness becomes part of a growing, professional mind.The day seems to end a new, tired beginning for the sunshine to follow. I write less and edit more now - quite the opposite to what I used to do! Being mindful of a measured sense of flow of words is what is the working flow all about. I enjoy the dim lighted darkness at the work foodcourt. It seems to be agreeing to the dark clouds hanging in my head owing to ignorance; exhaustion and the likes are passing clouds that look pale a moment and seem full of silver lining the next. The endless stream of employees trying to make life look larger, trendier, more informal, somewhat serious and a whole lot more than what one is needed for and asked to do is largely obvious. Iam one of those faces.A consciously corporate tight fit in, who takes time out to feel the real life and live simply as a free thinking and writing soul. Today is a day off from the maddening traffic mayhem, suffocating pollution and tight time schedule. My day of restimg my restlessness is quite the break to begin the next week ahead.

Chutnification!

Several ingredients that went into making us the way we are today-our cat fights with our siblings, our make believe play world, running and catching, kite flying, assisting grandma in making pickles, vadams(savory item like appalam/papad) during summers; pocketing sweet sour elandha vadams, badams (Almonds) and juicy maavadu (Tender mango), washed and dried and licking like hungry street urchins, squinting eye and rolling them, while clicking tongue in noisy, tasteful agreement, thayir saadam in placid company.A full moon above our heads on a breezy summer night, as Talat Mehmood sung pathos from the Philips tape recorder... Decades later, juicy nostalgia does find its way into my apartment kitchen, a full moon atop a neighbouring beauty salon and moist breeze that trickles down my sweaty forehead. Although chutney and thuvayal pastes are available in all leading super markets and stores in home food clonish Chennai, the true taste of originality was diligently practised on a groaning mixie, while coriander leaves were slightly sauteed in an oil pan, with til, urad dal and other ingredients, until the leaves were removed of their raw smell. With tamarind juice, red chillies and salt for an addition, the chutney looked a lovely green, for what it was worth.

Idlis sitting comfortably next to this chutney was the happily ever after ending to this chutnification.

By the people-To the people.

Social networking venues outside of the net is anything but gripping. A set pattern of rituals that earmarks the time and date in function, succeeding which the place of venue and the logistics to reach there can be worked out in predictable plan-specially the need to feel important enough, relatives (near and far) to be seen there and arbitrary comparisons drawn to one's own-belongings and other factors that is anything but one's business. To prepare oneself pre ritually is the gathering together of one's 'party' wearables-saree, lehenga,fitting blouse with befitting accessories.The face that masks hundreds of emotions gets a facial done, a necessity to present one's age and grooming gracefully and being a woman, the layers of cosmetic treatment from hair care to pedicure has to be scrubbed off and shine clean sans the weariness of customized  and irrelevant get-togethers. For who for what are probings that receive only a silent answer from within. To acquire a set role and get t(s)ucked into its making, thanks to many such rituals that make you feel more ornamental that tradition making rule book people can't care less.
Being familiar with a family that I am married to with ego divides within families, uppity snobbery, tongue in cheek sarcasm, insecure prestige and frivolous pride, the loud voice within the clan that always has to have the last word, these attitudes have also become part of the family 'tradition.'
The grand dinner or the sumptuous lunch can be a saving grace that the high and the low of a same human society can gulp down, in acceptance, if the humble food fare can quell their need to be nourished, failing which an unfulfilled appetite of wrath can fall upon the hosts, word of mouth adding the finishing touch.

'Im'proper Nouns

'Sheila' and 'Munni' have become the new face of Indian womanhood.Every curve of feminity exploited and promoted, one devouring eye candy item after the other. These proper nouns flaunt everything, stop at nothing and push the 'new' face of Indian woman to an all great high. An adjective that's come of age!! A sumptuous feast of perverted voyeurism,masala moves, bang on music and booze unplugged -a riot of human senses, which looks super hot and senseless at the same time.It is not sensitive and moves quite nothing within the viewer.Even hormones hibernate this cold season into numbness. To feel stripped off clean entertainment that gets itemized, tabulated at the top of film charts and worse still, we end up paying for it! Maybe calling women names have become the latest trend,a noun, an item. (Im)proper nouns anyone?

A toast to our city!

It was raining lightning thunderbolts at high volume volts yesterday night. Nature's fury raging from outside the bedroom windows, that a small peep made me scamper and tuck in like a scared rabbit! Its warm and cold by turns and the rains take us chennaiites by surprise. The roads leading down to the supermarket from the 1920's, the liberated shoe shop that blares stereo (Type) tamizh 'kollywood' music, the overcrowded bhavan that I must be blind to, lest I lose myself in ananda to its oil dripping, crusty and golden brown veggy cutlets...sheer misery to a diet watcher! The queue of people have options many, to wait and be stalled meanwhile by other smaller outlets outside that have the "American" prefix added to the bright yellow sign board reading "American sweet corn", "American pizzas" and so on. While the curtain raiser of a rain dampens and dries, the moisture is enough to keep one's taste buds craving. The variety here in Chennai is rich and generous. Its a nice blend of the south with the mushrooming north, a culture connect with the continental and laps of sea food by the beach and more.
Being a hard core vegetarian and having been to a handful of food courts and still counting, food junctures are a stop gap appeasement that is not a daily to me, but a mouthful of appreciation for a city on the go and Chennai sure has plenty to offer rain or shine.

For the record...

Get togethers at marriage is anything but getting back together for old times sake. Distant cousins,cousin's cousin, relatives with temporary amnesia and a whole lot of stuffy sentiments that sigh, stare and make mockery of marriage to just a wedding. A people's place is the mandap, moy panam post, bouquet bridesmaids, glitter and gold displayed from forehead to toe, smiling as a last resort, the bride and her groom. The who's who of the family clan, their lives and stories add no more than vapour to a heavy air of cold vibes from the richest of the snobs. Hypocrisy is the middle name prefixing a surname, a family background, a cosmic comedy connection and last but not the least dutiful submissions to family heads and their respective kula deivam above them. A mehendi and a sangeet are music to the event management's ears, reaching out their hands and ears, sweet accord with duh moolah, one day at a time. A scam of a ceremony for marriage hall honchos, caterers, reception invite services and their various stalls that have money and more of commission written all over them- a rich chance to fleece those auspicious days, arriving in the traditional muhurtham time, from the 'heavy duty' party. Right from dawn to the first night, sweet dreams for some,nightmares for some others, a payoff for the rest of the lives, an investment of happiness on the other, this is what being married relates to...for the record...

Light of our lives

The festival of lights came and went and bought with it a ray of hope-of removing the darkness that a growing up mind succumbs to and replacing it with leaps of faith, childlike and still curious. My sister’s son, the light of her life, spread the cheer that my “mature” experience did not teach. A toddler in diapers, my constant companion, despite the obvious difference in age, we were similar in terms of observing and understanding the feel of touch, the power of words, body language perception and connect towards social networking. He expressed his need to be heard, to be spoken to and to be protected in small and cute vocabulary. As a grownup, I still have trouble being understood. To pick himself up whenever he falls down, to never ever give up until he fixes a repaired toy and also to reconstruct one, once his mind is tired of the mundane ‘childish’ activities, courage to continue with his curiosity and stay completely natural, were some traits that I watched, smiling and silently praying that they remain just as they are. Being close to two years, he managed to treat the most of us, parents, relatives, friends, his ayah and maid, equally. A quick hug and a tiny toothed smile made the day memorable and richer. The simple joys of watching a toddler are as colourful and unique as watching a rainbow. Both are to be cherished just as is. Enjoy growing up with them-they may bring out the best in you, one day at a time.