Just one more time...

Oh yes, I have ignored you… I was in a concealed world of my own

And yeah, I have pretended not to hear you… your questions were such a bother…

Many a times I have screamed my lungs out, despite the generations between us

I have often been spiteful; my pride then, was more important than your age

I didn’t respond to your zillion efforts to put me back on track … I paid no heed to your care

Maybe I turned a deaf ear to your pleas… My vision was more important than yours…

But that unfortunate day I realized,

With every tear I shed,

With every pain I felt,

That I love you with all my heart

Now I don’t know where I stand

Do I mean anything to you after what I’ve done?

I have no answers, coz when I saw you there, eye to eye,

You never smiled.

All I can I do is hope with all my life, that there’s a tiny place there…

In that diminishing heart of yours

But I realize that the great man that you are,

Would never fail me the way I’ve failed you all these days

You wouldn’t be judgmental; you’ll look at me as none but your dear old granddaughter;

That’s because you have the greatness of God.

And that’s where I place you.

Yeah, next to God.

Is it too late to apologize?

Is it too late to be forgiven?

I hope not. I pray not.

Because you and I and all of us here,

Know you aren’t ready to leave.

The time will come though, no matter what,

But the time is not now, we all know that

So let’s fight together…

You’re a survivor, you are a little more than just special.

You’re a rare creation, a piece of art,

Who’s here to stay forever and forever

You define permanence, you define goodness

You define us, you're a big part of us.

Please come back for the crayons,

Come back for the magic sketches

Come back for the fragrant pink erasers…some like an umbrella, some like a football

Come back for your stories

Come back for your hilarity

Come back for my smile

Which you always complain I lack

Come back… I promise to be good.

I need you to give me that second chance

To love and to show you what you are really worth

I need you to give me that second chance

Because you are God.

Gods always take chances

And grant us that ‘just one more time’

They never come back, they never let go…

My parents have left for Neyveli and the house seems strangely calm. I woke up with a strange sense of tranquility – no “waking” orders from mom, no sound of the exasperating television and fm channels, which dad sometimes loves to run in unison (dual torture). So I took the toothbrush in my mouth and settled on the couch with the Sunday Chronicle, reading forecasts n Garfield. Almost instantly I was reminded of our lovely little home at ‘Prakriti’, where I used to have extended brushing sessions, just to complete the Young World, read Garfield and solve the crossword. Coz, once I’m done with my brushing, I had standing orders to get into my room and study.

Two days back, when I was reading the Archies which I borrowed from Pooja, I incidentally happened to get the heavenly smell that only an old book can enjoy. Immediately, flashes of the compact yet comprehensive Murugan library filled my mind. I was a crazy nut, dragging mom to the library, to get four books every four days… Murugan library has seen me grow up and grow out books and authors – Tinkles, Archies, Famous Fives, Sweet Valleys, Sydney Sheldons, Dan Browns and Chetan Bhagats… Now Murugan Library is no more the same – the smell of those crisp old books has been replaced by the sweet-sick aroma of room freshner and my routine doesn’t accommodate frequent visits to the library anymore.

There are so many incidents that trigger beautiful memories of the past which were insignificant and taken for granted then…

Yesterday, our neighbours singing Christmas carols reminded me of the Santa who was sent home at midnight, by Thelma aunty who lived downstairs. And hell, I still remember how surprised my little bro and I were, when we discovered that Santa was a woman!!!

X-mas stars remind me of the huge one that we used to hang in our living room. My mom’s green old recipe book reminds me of the egg less chocolate cake that I used to bake every Christmas… and the numerous combinations that mom and I used to try – orange, plain vanilla, nuts (yeah, sometimes we just gagged, but never mind!!!)… Our numerous experiments with French fries, potato chips and samosas… The hundred odd samosas that we made for li’l Vikky’s birthday party… The great moments I shared with mom… Now of course there’s not too much time for us together – but I have no regrets. No regrets too often I mean…

Sometimes, when I switch off the lights and withdraw for hours with my ipod, I’m reminded of my twelfth standard days, where I used to long for just five minutes of music. Music, telephone and TV were strictly prohibited during the pre-board phase … So when my parents leave for a walk during the weekend, I used to sneak up to the cassette player with a pair of semi functioning headphones and listen to “Aye Udi Udi Udi”…

Nowadays, I purposely take a different route from my GRE class, just to get a five minute glimpse of St.Michael’s. I have spent 14 years of my life there, and the memories are not just a handful. Every time I walk past my Alma Mater, it is like a “Tanha Dil” episode, if you know what I mean. I see us asking Guru Rickshawman for “maangas” from the street vendor, stealing one rupee coins from dad to buy those exciting little Mickey Mouse stickers… I see us being driven down home to Velachery in the school bus, deliberately standing in the bus to prove we’re ‘adults’ ( me, azzu, hanni, nishin, jeswanth, arvind…)…walking and screaming down the lane in blue and grey, ten to fifteen of us blocking the entire road… triples with Preetha and Mal… Michael’s is just so overwhelming. As I now walk back home after my GRE session, the single tear is always lost in the darkness…

There are so many things that I often get reminded about…

The endless hours of badminton, “help”, hopscotch, lock and key, hide and seek, “crocodile crocodile” and four corners at Prakriti…

Hour-long phone convos everyday with Malvika and Alia…

My bubbly little grape-eyed brother (the li’l kid often comes in my dreams even now!)

The intimate relationship I once shared with my granny and dad…

My kindergarten friend Vanik… I have hopes of finding him someday!

The night-long gossips with Meenu…

The endless laughs during my UG at MOP…

And the initial feeling of being in love. I often yearn to fall in love, right from scratch, over and over again (but with the same guy, of course!)…

…And I’m as sure as hell, that two years from now, when I’m married and off to a remote corner of the world, something will surely remind me of my mom’s sing-song morning orders and my dad’s morning musical extravaganza. But as ever, I’ll just wipe away that single tear and say, “some things in life never come back yet they never let go…”

Chronicles of a Fat Genius

Space – Just not enough

Snorts – Hate the sound of it

Gags –Victimized, totally!

Warning: Fat – 100%

All that it takes is just a little more – the catcalls, whispers (‘loud whispers’ to be more precise), bullies’ jargon, the ‘I-know-something-that-you-don’t’ look and a whole network that goes ‘wink, wink, wink’ (trust me, you won’t be flattered). You’re in the limelight, yeah, but for no virtuous reasons honestly.

So, the spotlight is on you. More often than not, you would be enthralled. But not right then. You feel the heat of the notched focus desperately ask for an overwhelming force that digs you a grave right beneath. Extreme, no doubt. But anything for a place to rest in peace. “But with sufficient space, I hope?” (your mind tends to joke). Strange, but there are moments when your own senses act in anti-you fashions. I don’t know if it is because of the state of familiarity that creeps up after steady recurrences of distasteful incidents or just the welcome state of relief that sets in post self-ridicule. You are cruelly exposed to the volume you enclose. You are soon driven into self-pity, despair and gloom.

But, later on all this takes a toll on you and a certain undisputable numbness takes over. Then on it’s plain apathy, vanity (I don’t know why this specific attribute, but it’s true) and outright indifference.

This has been the case for more than a decade. Over the years, I’ve either outgrown my own shoes overnight or suddenly realized that my clothes have been tailored an inch smaller…I’ve wheeled away an eternity with such interesting case studies of myself. I’ve tried everything – die-hard diets, tedious treadmill sessions and annual “lose-it-all” resolutions. But at the end of the day, being the invincible epicure that am, I realize that greed and gluttony have paid faster than my hard work. Finally succumbing to my own discrepancy, with put-on pride and glee I hear myself say in self-consolation, “Blessed. I’ve got more. I’m pervasive. ” What an unbeatable optimist!

The lecture...

“And so we’ve come to the end of this session…(sighs of relief). But one more point students, that I missed out eeeess…”
“Maaaaaaaaa’mm….”(annoyed groans).

Class IX-B, Moral Science class, the eight period, the first bench, two oily plaits, drenched in Mrs. Angel Pinto’s generous shower of saliva – no points for guessing! Yeah that’s me and this is exactly the fifty-second time I’m taking a desperate sneak peek at my watch.

“ Eve-teasing is one of the worsest crimes of today (worsest??? Could it get worse than this??? Muffled giggles.) The main reason behind this is (looking straight into my eyes) you girls” (gasps of horror from the accused lot).

“Every evening I see you girls in the beach, hopping around in mini skirts and micro mini shorts. Don’t think there is no one to watch you and catch you girls! (What were you doing at the beach ma’m?) You all are fooling your parents by such misbehaviour. And by fooling your parents, you are fooling God. And by fooling God, you are fooling whom? Yourselves girls, yourselves. Finally what is the result of such shameless dressing? Eve-teasing! Of course the boys will be tempted. Now can we blame them? (I stole an embarrassed glance at the boys. Even newborns seemed less innocent!) .”

Now, an indecent accusation as such is insulting enough. But getting accused in front of the “men” was way too insulting!!! It was one of those rare moments when I felt like a total jerk. We had the most immoral session of moral science class that day.

Swearing under our breath, we, the most ‘demeaning creation of God’ silently vowed to get back at Mrs. Angel Pinto. Angel...ironical isn’t it?

Tick..tick..tick..tick..tick..tick.tick..tick..Trrrrrrrrrrrrringg…

After what seemed like an eternity, we heard the God sent school bell go! With unconcealed happiness, we let out sighs of relief and started packing our bags.
I felt like I needed to be on glucose to catch up on my pathetically spent energy. “How on earth did I live through this lecture?? Phew”… But unfortunately my happiness was short lived…for soon after I heard her saying, “ Thank you children, see you next class!”

Believed it not

Wednesday 10.15 pm

Dear diary,
How many of us have a dilemma over which group to take in class eleven and twelve? A little more than three fourth of the Class 10 student population at least? Fortunately, I am a class apart. I know for sure that I want the Commerce group. But amma will never let it be. An engineer she is and an engineer I should be.

Amma has serious apprehensions about what Commerce can do for me. A staunch believer of the play of time, dates, stars, the wind, the cats and even the lizards, she tricked me into fixing an appointment with our family astrologer, S.V.P. Giri, to foretell what’s the best for me. I shot out a few unpleasant real-life examples, trying to convince her that astrology is just a fool’s play. But according to amma, astrology is stubbornly a science. I’ve seen S.V.P. Giri a couple of times during my sister’s wedding. I still can’t forget the ugly paan stains on his spaced out teeth. They’re worse than his corny phrases.

Sigh! The battery is going low …the torchlight is getting dimmer and mom will be furious if she finds out what I’ve written. So good night diary… and weirdo Giri, here we come!


Friday, 3.25 pm

Dear Diary,
I can never even mention the word Commerce again in my life. S.V.P Giri has run his dirty boots all over my life. I’m doomed forever. Sob!


Friday, 10.35 pm

Dear Diary,
I saw the paan stains again…and I can’t believe the red-toothed crook tricked my mom into this. Amma and I took a call taxi all the way from Adyar to Ambattur. Mr. Nostredamus wanted us there exactly at the strike of ten and amma didn’t want to keep the busy guy waiting. We got down from the taxi and stepped right on a black cat’s tail. The cat hissed, its eyes clouding in with hatred. I tried convincing my mom that black cats being a sign of bad omen, today wouldn’t be ideal for a prediction as crucial as this. Oddly, she didn’t fall prey to the threat. I followed her inside, disillusioned.

Mrs.Giri wiping her forehead with the tips of her sari, made us sit on the floor of the living room. I watched the ants carry away the food particles that lay scattered around. Cobwebs, cockroaches, soot and the rude clank of vessels … I was surprised at how amma managed to put on a pleasant face.

Giri made his grand appearance, at his own sweet pace, carelessly chewing pawn and spitting out the gooey red mess into a worn-out vessel from the Stone Age. I tried very hard imagining him busy, but failed miserably. He blew his nose and wiped his fingers on his unclean, disgust-evoking dhoti. We sat across him as he hungrily munched on a murukku, after offering us some. Amma quietly pinched my thigh to warn me not take it. I knew better than that anyway. The stench put me off anyway. Wiping his oily fingers on his dhoti again, he started a random play with some nuts and shells. I tuned out of the whole process, but a few words like “Raagu , Kethu, Shani, flew in and out of my ears, forming illusionary question marks inside my head. I knew the session came to an end when he said, “ Kuzhandhaikku science group eduthaa pirkalathula vazhkai jagajodhiya amaiyum”. It took all my will power to hold back the tears that rushed out almost immediately. On our way back, Amma went on with her twaddle about how well software geeks are doing in life. I stood like a deaf mute at the bus stop (we were in no hurry to get back…hence the mode of transport) and let the tears flow out slowly. Drenched in salty dampness, I tried to push away the grim thought of S.V.P. Giri.
Later, during my afternoon nap, S.V.P. Giri tormented me in my dream. But guess what? He’s given me an idea. Astrology is science after all, isn’t it? Giri’s inspired me to study the astrological sciences - or so I’m going to tell amma tomorrow. With her engineering dreams crashing down, it’s going to be a traumatizing decision for her. Let’s wait and watch the melodrama unroll. Hope amma likes the new avatar of her science whiz of a kid. And S.V.P Giri, better get me out of the mess he got me into. Good night diary.

Believed it

I clutched the corners of my mom’s sari and furiously chewed on my fingernails, gnawing at my flesh now and then. I had an urge to get back home, to hide inside the warm safety of my cotton quilt. Embarrassed though I was, I edged closer to my mom. We sat in eerie silence in the dim lit room, lost in its peculiar reddish glow. I stared at the low hanging bulbs and the strange patterns they made on the walls. The strange sweet-sick aroma filled me with uneasiness. This was a new world, a world that unnerved me –this was the world of the ace of astrology, Eliza Mendoza.

We had been waiting for more than forty minutes and I couldn’t bear the silence any longer. Confused as I was, I opened my mouth to ask my mom what exactly we were doing in this phony setup. Immediately she shushed me with her stern no-nonsense,
no-questions look. I looked away and started sulking when an attendant (dressed like a messenger of God) announced that “Maa” is expecting us.

My mom hurriedly walked inside the beautifully adorned wooden door. I followed reluctantly behind. After all, astrology was just as credible as the WWF.

As soon as we entered, the attendant shut the door behind us. So, this was Eliza Mendoza. God! What a presence! The woman was distinctly built and her nativity was difficult to decipher. She was so simple, yet so imposing. I suddenly lost the uncanny emotions that had crept up inside me, in the waiting room. Now I was filled with peace, tranquility…total serenity…. haaaaaaah.

‘Maa’ and mom had a ceremonial discussion about my birth, the stars, the sky and the airs, while I slowly swallowed the elements around her. I was suddenly interrupted when I heard mom asking her about which group I should be taking in my class eleven and twelve. I was shocked beyond words! Did we come all the way for such a simple affair? Such a big woman being traumatized with such juvenile issues! I went hot with embarrassment. I was preparing myself to get rudely thrown out soon. But to my utter surprise ‘Maa’ turned towards me and said, “ You want to be a gynecologist don’t you?” My lips parted in astonishment. I nodded, wide-eyed, like an astonished kinder garden kid. Her words came out in measured succession - “When you were ten, you wanted to be a pilot. When you were twelve you wanted to be a beautician. But now, at fifteen you have matured enough to know what you want. I see your future filled with babies. I see you bringing joy to families, I see you saving lives. You are a child of the biological sciences. You belong to the organic segment of life”. She turned elegantly to my mom and said, “ Now, is your questioned answered?”

I was awe-struck. This world did exist… for sure. A world that studies people – scientifically, supernaturally, mysteriously (I didn’t know how. I just knew it did. It was a flash of a realization. It was an experience).
We paid the heavy fee and turned to go, feeling as light and free as birds. I looked at ‘Maa’s” face. She didn’t smile, but still looked warm, tender and loving. This very look I knew, will bring me back to this world of beautiful obscurity, beautiful truth.

Bride and Prejudice

I knew it was going to happen when I saw a jet black raven, the first thing in the morning, cawing desperately on the tree outside my window. The pain was right outside, all big and bulky. It was one sight I hated, feared, dreaded. Sweety Aunty was such a delight wasn’t she? The iron-wallah, far down the lane would be giving me know-it-all smiles in no time. For as loud and shrill as an owl was her marriage proposal for me. Mr.Perfect, her son, was the one who was supposed to be my perfect match. I planted a huge smile and sat across her blushing furiously, which she unfortunately mistook as romantic embarrassment. He’s tall, a geeky medico, straight down from the United Kingdom, fair, well built and what not and whatever! One hell of a Sweety aunty’s replica is all I have to say. Uggh!! He didn’t mind my qualification. I just had to be an ok cook and a loving wife, she said. Man, what kindness! A geeky medico from the U.K…one hell of a Sweety aunty’s replica! No way… I tried to shut my mind off, but the shrill whine seemed to rake into my brain and wake me up. I shot an irritated glance at my mom and she quickly shot back a look of pity. That one look convinced me, that Sweety aunt and her big bundle of joy, Mr. Perfect were by means lulling me into marriage. After all, Sweety Aunty happens to my dad’s cousin and well my dad’s fraternity – that’s one thing my mom’s allergic to. She can even tolerate lizards, I swear! Now I relax and give her a shy smile. I’ve decided to play along.