RJ @ RD 1996 - Part I

Once upon a time (it's been ages, hence the start), in 1996, RJ (now RGB) was one of 2 girls from the TN contingent to be chosen for the Guard of Honour, Prime Minister's Rally…

The preparatory camps were grueling. Felt like prisoners under leash. Hours of non-stop training under the hot sun. RJ was in the Air Wing. With uniforms, beret and shiny black shoes, we moved about like robots tuned to precision at the command of our commander. The part of the skin under the beret and sleeve was in stark contrast to the black colour (sun-tanned or rather sun-burnt) that made up the rest of the exposed areas.

Our barracks were most often School or College Campuses, where classrooms were converted into bedrooms (sans the bed – just sleeping bags!) during vacation time. Wake-up time: 5.00 am. Bed time: 10 pm officially (when lights were switched off), but 12 midnight unofficially. The girls had to wear their hair in the figure of 8 (plaited in two and crisscrossed to form the figure of 8 with a net and many pins to hold it). Thankfully RJ had short hair, cut shorter for the crew-cut look, which meant - less time spent on dressing up.

People from different backgrounds, some didn’t know a thing about hygiene and left the WC unclean after use. The early birds got cleaner loos, which got progressively worse through the day! Sometimes these WCs itself seemed a luxury, coz we had to use trenches (pits dug out, and covered on 4 sides with rexin). The queues for taking a shower were usually long, that some conveniently skipped it, the others took showers en masse, but RJ went first or last to avoid the awkwardness of waiting, skipping or sharing.

The food used to be sticky-yucky upma / kichidi, idly & non-veg sambhar (with worms and what not!), yellow-yellow-dirty-fellow lime rice (even the best of which I hated), rock-like buns (that you could use to chase the dogs guffawing at your plight), rubbery parotta that you could chew-on forever like cud, and such…that RJ preferred to stay hungry most of the time, surviving on bread and jam, biscuits or snacks.

Cherry Blossom or Kiwi black boot polish, a dot of saliva and off we went with brush in hands and a cloth until we could see our mugs on our boots. The Brasso added the sparkle to our brass badges on the beret, belt and shoulder.

For someone who couldn’t stand for 5 minutes without shifting the leg, wriggling the toe, or swooning, RJ made big progress, standing for hours in the scorching hot sun without complaining. Each camp was a challenge. The numbers were dwindling. Only the fittest and the best made it to the final camp.

The cadets (that’s us) were judged on various parameters.

• Minimum height – RJ was 182 cms, the only worry was whether she would fit in with the rest of the not-so-tall contingent.
• Drills – Precision in act (the height in which you raise your leg, the clack of the boot when it hits the ground, the brisk march with just the heels touching the ground unsettling a layer of dust below, the click sound when the palm hits the butt of the rifle, as the parade commander yelled at the top of her voice - Saav-dhaan, Vishh-rram, Bayen mode, Dayine mode, Aage chal, Salaami dega salaami shasth, Baaju shasth….), and coordinated timing (ek-do-theen-ek) for every action
• Being the Parade Commander (PC), Right Marker and Left Marker of the contingent meant straight selection for RD camp. They tried hard to make RJ the PC of the contingent – what with a height, physique and upright posture like hers (ahem!), but in vain. Try as much as they did, one of the superintendents remarked that RJ sounded like she was screaming from 2 kms away and another remarked that RJ needed to get her voice-box tested! So PC was ruled out for RJ :(. Right Marker was reserved for the tallest boy in the contingent and Left Marker for the tallest girl. So Left Marker RJ became, flaunting the red sashay.
• Best Cadet – RJ was one of the Best Cadets chosen and trained for the Best Cadet competition – Written tests (that included GK), Shooting (.22 rifle), Physical tests (drill) etc
• Cultural Competitions – RJ was chosen for National Integration skit (On Tamil Nadu, Pondicherry, Andaman & Nicobar Islands, the region we represented) and Western Music
• Fitness – 4 Kms Jogging early in the morning with rifle in one arm; Break for Breakfast; Drill for 2 hours; Break for 10 minutes; Drill until lunch time; Lunch Break; Drill from 4 pm to 6 pm; One hour Break to freshen up and reassemble; Cultural Activities (preparing for competitions) and Best Cadet Training….phew!

RJ won a place in the TN Contingent for the Republic Day Camp 1996 Delhi, one among 21 girl cadets chosen to represent the State. It was a feat indeed, coz only the best made it to the end. The rigorous training camps braced us for the worst. We became stronger, brighter, more competitive and more confident. And we looked forward to Republic Day Camp (RDC) during the cold winter month of January 1996, like eager puppies still wet behind the ears...

Part II coming soon!

A 6 yard yarn

Onam didn’t mean anything to me until a few years back, when I relocated to Cochin in Kerala. The first job I did in Cochin was a flyer for Cochin Duty Free Onam (Booze) Promotions (For Cochin International Airport Limited]. And a Voice Over Recording for the Public Addressal System for the same promo event at the Airport.

I wrote about the times of prosperity during the reign of King Mahabali (an asura king) and how he was banished from his Kingdom by the jealous Gods in the disguise of Vamana (a dwarf) and that he was allowed to visit his Kingdom every year (during Onam)…the usual stuff, but of course with the RGB punch.

I’ve been working with the company I work for currently for dog years (what seems like eternity!). And every Onam we have celebrations at Office. We come to office dressed in traditional attire - Women in Kerala saree and Men in Mundu, there are some spoilsports of course, who come in regular wear. However, that's the blue-moon day I choose to wear a saree, as I'm otherwise literally born-and-brought-up-in-jeans (borrowed that phrase from The Holy Lama - Patented).

The boys come in early to design the Pookalam - flower carpet. The girls are usually busy decking themselves, so they come right in time to pose for the cameras. That includes me, because draping-a-saree takes longer than slipping-into-jeans! And also the time spent taking pictures at home, because it's the rare occasion I wear a saree (an event in itself!), so family, maid, neighbours and myself...all of us are excited. Even my baby has this questioning "Why do you have that thing wrapped around" look on her face. She tried to lift up the saree, wondering if I was wearing jeans underneath! So much for 6 yards, but the yarn continues...

Morning hours are dedicated to work. Lunch time and we have the Onasadhya (Onam Feast with a variety of dishes served on a plantain leaf, and payasam for dessert). Again the boys do the serving (a privilege we've bestowed upon them) and the girls giggle with glee and gobble away to glory!

I had to return to my desk because a client was online for a job brief. By four-ish, entertainment and games began. Tradition has it that newcomers have to introduce themselves and the others can take a potshot at them, to get to know them better (read 'bully them'). Endless rounds later (new-comers outnumbered old-timers such as myself!) with new talents discovered, we formed four groups and started playing dumb-charades (with malayalam movie titles) and I stay dumb most often because I wouldn't know most Malayalam Movie titles, except for playing cheer-leader and taking wild guesses. As the game hots-up with dumb-struck and dumb-found performances by the actors and the guess-ers, we fight against rules, set our own rules, yell and generally make merry (saving ourselves from what would almost land in fist-fights!). By the end of the game, Team No.3 (my team) had more members and more points than the other teams (hee, hee!). The next game was about to begin, but I had to wrap-up as I had to visit my in-laws who weren't keeping too well. Bid adieus, picked up the saree and jumped into the car.

Chock-o-block traffic. Driving bumper-to-bumper, it took me a good 1.5 hours to traverse a distance of 15 kilometres. A severe headache and backache followed. I was ready to drop-dead! M-i-L gave me some tea and balm (visitor turns patient!). Hubby gave me a good massage. All said and done, it was time to wrap up the day.

Onam thus celebrated. 6 yards off, denim back on...until next year maybe.

Fancy this.

A butterfly fairy in a silk top, pretty frock and stockings, a pair of wings that looked like anybody wearing it could actually fly and a wand that had this magical aura about it, which completed the look. It was an outfit my sister bought for my daughter for her birthday and we saved the wings and the wand for the fancy dress competition that is conducted every year as part of the Onam Celebrations at school.

My 7 yr old daughter with cheeks generously rouged, looking pretty in her outfit, went on the dais. As my hubby, parents and I waited with bated breath to see how she would perform, she walked in with an air of confidence and said with subtle hand gestures and a sweet smile to go with it…

"Hi! I am a butterfly fairy

Though I look pretty now

I was once just an ugly wriggly caterpillar

But don’t you know that each one of us is beautiful from within?

Here’s my magic wand

May each one of you shed your cocoons

And become beautiful butterflies!

Bye…"


We heaved a sigh of relief. It had gone well. There were quite a few kids who turned up for the competition dressed up as a bishop, nun, muthashi (grandmother), Lord Krishna, gypsy, paper girl, rag picker, earth, mother India, sunflower, Michael Jackson, princess, fairy, beauty queen, Swami Vivekananda, Dora the explorer….Some of the kids forgot the dialogue they were supposed to deliver after their grand entry onto the stage.

My daughter managed to pull it off. She is otherwise reserved and shy. But loves to participate – Fancy Dress, Elocution, Light Music, Recitation…

I had prepared a lengthy speech for her Elocution competition ‘Keep Kochi Clean’. She won the third prize. Kudos to you, my girl! She learns in a jiffy and delivers without stage-fear. Something to appreciate. Perhaps she needs to focus more on voice modulation, hand gestures and the right pauses. But I guess she will improve, with time. For now, she’s good. And I’m proud of her.

The cold wave

At dawn, I wake up with a sore throat. Atishu, atishu…Hubby gets up. Atchu…Becky baby gets up. Sniff-sniff…Ann wakes up too. She is the culprit. She brought the cold in, from school perhaps.

A busy day ahead, I thrust the milk bottle into baby’s mouth, get Ann ready for school and after steaming, a dose of Rhus-tox (homeo medicine) and breakfast, hubby drops her off at the bus stop.

Then there is a chorus of Atishu, Atishu – replete with Bass, Tenor, Soprano, Alto…. A bout of common cold strikes our family cold. We rub eucalyptus oil and do the customary steaming. Feels good. Hubby and I head to work. Becky stays put at home with maid.

Cold gets cold-er over the day. Develops into fever for Becky and me. I pop a paracetamol pill to get rid of the gnawing headache, body ache and fever. Becky gets the paediatric syrup. We get the steam ready. All four of us get under the blanket, breathe-in, breathe-out.

Next morning, my legs and hands are aching. And my head throbbing. I feel feverish. Muster the energy to get Ann ready for school after the steam, rhus-tox, breakfast and glass of milk. And hit the bed again. I decide to work from home that day, when baby gets a bit too cranky to handle, because of the annoying cold. She wants me to be around. We both do the steaming therapy religiously, get a 2 hour sleep, and the waking hours I do errands for the baby and actually manage some work in between. Hectic day, but baby and I feel much better by the end of the day. My voice sounds nasal. And my kids’ too.

Next day, cold develops into dry cough. Co-oh, co-oh. It hurts. Voice sound gruff. The gnawing headache remains. But I head to work. By evening, cough and headache increases 2-fold. Get out by 7 pm from work. Hubby has an appointment with the dentist. So we pickup Ann from mom’s place and rush to the dentist. I sink into the cozy couch at the dentist’s place and watch lame programmes on TV, switch channels as I hold my throbbing head in agony. The wait seems endless. Ann already has a clip on to correct her cross-bite condition and the dentist says its working fine. Hubby wants me to get my teeth checked as well. And the dentist discovers 3 cavities, says my wisdom teeth are smiling at him, begging to be removed. Asks me to think about it and get back if I want it temporarily filled or removed. I smile. The lady dentist compliments that I have a pretty smile. I suspect if it’s a marketing gimmick. And we dash home. Co-oh-co-oh, throb-throb…have dinner, pop paracetamol and crash.

Becky wakes up in the wee hours, co-hoh, co-hoh. Dry cough. Family steaming session again in the morning. Today is definitely better than yesterday. Hope the cold storm dies down soon.


“A family that steams together, heals together.”

Ann

Becky

The wheels go round and round

I started riding 2-wheelers when I was in Class 6. The first motorcycle/moped I owned was a second hand Kinetic Luna which I shared with my sister and then graduated to a brand new Hero Puch (geared motor cycle) a few years later.

It was against the rules, coz I was driving without a license. We’ve gone triples too, me and my other tom-boyish friends. The traffic cops have seen us riding in school uniforms and we managed to give them the slip with our innocent smiles and flickering eyes (with head tilted to a side) pleading with him to let us go; as we catch the cop's reflection in our side-view mirror, giggling, watching him helplessly wag his finger at us, as if to warn us that he’s letting us go because we’re kids but he will not be this kind the next time he sees us - school kids, without license, triples – that’s triple offence isn’t it?!

My usual mode of commute to and fro school was on the school bus. But when I had basketball practice, special classes or tuitions, I would take my Hero Puch. My pillion rider would either be my sister or one of my friends.

Once we rode on my friend A’s Kinetic Honda (scooter) in our school uniform, to school. A was tall and hefty with short hair, in the front seat. R, that’s me, tall and thin, with short hair, in the back seat. And 2 other friends ‘D’ and ‘V’, one short with short hair and the other short with long hair and glasses, wedged between us. All 4 of us, happily singing, whistling, riding…on 1 scooter. The traffic cop wasn’t there, thank heavens. Maybe the Lord heard us and He wouldn’t have wanted to play the spoilsport anyway!

My dad had a Yezdi, which I used to ride occasionally. And M’das Sir who used take Physics and Chemistry tuitions when I was in Class 12 used to own a Bullet, which he allowed me to ride once a while. Felt like I was king (no dainty princess this) of the road!

I used to dread the public mode of transport – Buses and autos. I remember, once when my Hero Puch had a flat tyre, I thought I’ll take the bus to my tuition class. I waited 5 minutes at the bus stop, no bus in sight, I walked to the next bus stop, no bus and kept walking… actually walked about 5 kilometers or more, all the way to my tuition centre. Now you know what I mean when I say ‘dread’!

From Hero Puch I graduated to a Suzuki motorbike. This time I was old enough to get a license. Man, I felt powerful. Could race with the meanest of machines. No Harley Davidson, but will make do. That was a time and place where there were very few girls riding (geared) bikes. From what I heard, there was just one other girl in the city who used to ride a motorbike. Hadn’t met her though.

And me with my tall frame, short hair, Levis jeans , casual tees, Nike shoes, no fashion accessories and helmet on, could pass off for a guy. When the guys realized I was a girl, I would get a second and third look and then they would want to race with me. Like I cared! My friend who would pillion ride with me would wrap a scarf around her head and face (to keep the heat and dust away), she could pass off as Phulan Devi . Perhaps why, the co-riders on the road kept a safe distance and were afraid to challenge us to a race. Enjoyed the ride, through the dust, the heat, the rains and of course, some minor bruises!

What I hated though was when my friends’ friends, sister’s friends, mom’s friends and dad’s friends reported to my folks that I ride too fast and that I would be sorry if I didn’t heed to their advice and slow down. Aarrgghh! And I also didn’t like having to clean my bike every other day, take it for servicing once every while and when my dad warns me about not running on reserve fuel for too long (and actually running out of fuel, with the nearest petrol bunk not within a mile)…. Aaarrrggghhh! And when my pillion rider holds me around my waist, sits on one side, gives me instructions to ride (pillion riding or back seat driving!)…Aaaarrrrgggghhhh!

I learnt to drive a car when I was in Class 8 (dad taught me). From Class 10, my dad used to let me drive when we went out as a family. I was appointed the unofficial driver (didn’t have a license remember!). When I got license, I was ready for the kill. Didn’t mow anybody down. I am quite a cautious driver, actually . Just 2 or 3 small dents / scratches in my many years of driving experience (which wasn’t even my fault, really!).

On my graduation day, my dad (no he didn’t gift me a car!) let me take the car (He’s someone who used to take such good care of the car that mom, sis and I almost believed that he loved the car more than us!). When I was pursuing my post-graduation, however, my dad let me take the car out more frequently. And I was always the chauffeur when we went on family outings and trips.

Love to be in the driver's seat, in control of things. Hate the "go slow, slam the brakes, left-no-right, you're going too fast..." instructions that come from the backseat driver, who thinks he/she is a co-driver or navigator. When I'm on the hot seat, it's like I wear a pair of horse blinds, complete focus on the road and where I'm headed. I've had my share of accidents, but none too serious. I steer my way ahead.

When I went to Chennai on my first job, I borrowed my cousin's Kinetic Honda and figured my way around the snarling traffic. The scorching sun was no deterrent. When I got to Coimbatore, where my dad was posted then, I got back to riding my Suzuki. I got married, landed in Mumbai. Then it was - Train for daily commute to work (as a passenger only), Car for weekends, family outings or shopping, Pick-up Truck to ferry items to the Godown when the drivers were unavailable (as a volunteer - Hubby's uncle was a tea-taster and had a tea business). I was again the unofficial driver. (If ever I ran out of a job, I knew I could land a job as a driver, given my experience!). Cochin, I ventured about in Suzuki (my bike) and Yamaha (my hubby's bike) initially and then the 4-wheels through narrow roads that looked more like lanes, alleys, blind curves and dead-ends.

Now, I'm done with bikes. I'm no longer fascinated by it. The cars too, I would be happy to let someone else drive. Hate the traffic - more than half the commuters don't seem to know how to ride/drive, some dreaming while driving, some others drunk and driving, some talking on the mobile or smoking while driving...add to it the growing number of vehicles on the road, potholed roads...and what have you!

But looks like I will have to drive, at least for now, perhaps until the time I have the luxury of having a chauffeur drive me around town. Then I will gladly relinquish the post of unofficial driver!

Vrrrrrrrrrrrooooooooooooom!

* All images on this post (included to make this rather long story on wheels a bit racy) are courtesy Google Search and belong to the owners of the respective sites.

My 12th Storey

My 7 year old daughter asked me the day before if I knew the meaning of Storey that is spelt s-t-o-r-e-y, I said yes. She was visibly excited (half hoping I would tell her a story) and asked me “then tell” and I said “floor of a building” and she asked “how did you know” and I said “I learnt, when I was little” and she seemed to be happy. For she had learnt it too. Now she knows that storey (also spelt 'story') is not the misspelled version of story (fable or tale), but a word that had a meaning of its own.

 

Now, she finds the view from up the 12th Storey of the 22-Storey Apartment much more beautiful than before. I think about it, makes me feel happy too. Reality is (and realty isn’t misspelled either!), it does look good from up there. The beautiful city of Cochin – unlike the concrete jungle typical of a city, has greenery all around, with villas, high-rise apartments, shopping malls, corporate buildings and other such concrete buildings harmoniously co-existing with nature.

The 12th Storey is actually our second home. We live in a 3-storey Apartment on the 2nd Storey and my folks stay in the 12th Storey of this 22 storey building, just a kilometer from our place. My daughter goes to the 12th Storey when she’s back from school. I’ve got a timetable ready for her, which needs a new look every other week (to keep her excited and inspire her to stick to the timetable at least until the newness lasts), or else it would turn into crushed paper finding its way into the bin.

Timetable goes something like this… (anticipated response in brackets)

• Take a shower, change clothes (ok, ok…)
• Drink milk, have a quick evening meal - my mom being a good cook, it is this time of the day my 7 year old girl relishes and eats the most (yum-scrum!)
• Study / do homework for 1 hour (grrrr….)
• Play with other children from the apartment – 1 hour (yipee!)
• Break – 15 min (hmmmm…)
• Study for 1 hour (oh no, not again!)
• TV for 30 min (only half hour? Not fair!)
• Keyboard Practice for 30 min (la, la, la….)
• Play at home or simply while away time till mommy arrives (yoo-hoo!)

Then mommy (that’s me) arrives to pick her up. My usual routine, I search the dabbas (containers) on the table, and gobble up the remains of mom’s special item for the day (cakes, bhajji, vada, cookies, pudding, kozhukatta, pazham-pori and her various other specialities & experiments!). I check the time. It’s late, got to go. The just 2-months-away-from-2-year old baby will be waiting in our 3-storeyed apartment.

We say bye-bye to the 12th Storey and jump into the elevator. Meet some acquaintances on the way, say hi, bye and the courtesies or small talk in between. Jump into the car and drive away.

I catch-up with my daughter on the way. She tells me the new things she has learnt. She is preparing for the elocution contest “Keep Kochi clean” which is the day after and she rehearses the speech with all the frills. I pat her on her back and we arrive at a 3-storey building.

We take the stairs up and ting-tong, the door opens to Baby (Becky) - all smiles with my t-shirt wrapped around her neck. She skips about in excitement and shows all her antics at one go, to show us what we’d missed. Transition from 12th Storey to 2nd Storey is complete.

And so goes my story…

Ne-po

She loves to strut around in an over-sized shoe

Walk high on heels with her tiny feet, but she’s all of two

She is bright and happy, naughty and yeah, accident-prone

From day to dusk, she keeps me on her toes, I thus bemoan

When she wakes up she wants the TV music turned on

And until the time she sleeps, it goes on and on and on

She hugs his t-shirt when he’s not around, feeling his warmth perhaps

And wraps my t around her neck to feel my embrace during her naps

She flashes the sweetest smile ever when up to a trick

And the heart, even if made of stone, will melt just as quick

She wants everything her bigger sister takes to study or play

She’s stubborn, nothing more - nothing less is just her way

She claps, she dances, she mimics, her actions speak a million words

And if you’re not looking, she’s on the table, licking up curds

Ne-po is the new word in her vocabulary, which she uses at will

She gets things done her way; you just can’t hold her still

She’s a little devil, at the same time, sweet as an angel

Fiddles with everything, but you can’t pull out the cudgel

She’ll jump off the ledge if you tell her “go”

She knows she’ll land safe, coz she trusts you so

All this and more, she is Becky, my darling baby

And I am discovering myself through her, maybe.

* Ne-po means go-away in the Gibberish Language Dictionary. She uses it - when she wants something (especially if it's something she shouldn't be wanting in the first place), when she wants things done her way, when she doesn't want somebody around her (after using up their service!), when she is fighting, etc. Wonder if we have a word like that in the Oxford English Dictionary that could mean all of this!

BP levels rising!

The controversy over Deepwater Horizon oil spill / Gulf of Mexico oil spill (also called BP oil spill) is raging. This massive ongoing oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico, is considered to be one of the largest offshore spills with about hundreds of millions of gallons spilling from a sea floor oil gusher, resulting in an oil slick spread over 2500 square miles.

An environment disaster undoubtedly, with a detrimental impact on marine and wildlife habitats, also affecting the fishing & tourism industries in the Gulf of Mexico. Miles of beaches, wetlands and estuaries are under threat. The BP engineers are working overtime to fix the spill or at least contain the damage.

The oil is spilling, the oil slick is spreading, the stocks are plunging, and…BP (read “Blood Pressure” from here on) is rising.

Well, this post is not really about the oil spill, why it happened or what are going to be the repercussions, nor is it about taking stock or pointing fingers. It is about my BP which has of late been on the rise…

Some crude reasons for rising levels of BP include:

1. Global, National, Government, Political, General:
• The BP oil spill (since we’re already on the topic), for whatever damage it is doing to life underneath and around.
• The fact that it took 26 long years to pass the judgment on Bhopal Gas Tragedy and nothing much was done in the meantime to clean up the toxic waste (media frenzy and people fury only on current affairs, huh?).
• The level of Corruption for moving every file under every desk in Government Offices. And to top it all, their lackadaisical approach (it’s the taxpayers money you’re sitting on, damn it!).
• The highhandedness of Cops who seem to be out there only to make your life worse (busy meeting their targets must be – no. of cases booked, fines collected etc).
• Bribe – givers & takers.
• Dowry – givers & takers.
• The extremists / rebels who do anything in the name of fighting for justice (religious fanatics, jihadists, terrorists…list is endless).
2. Neighbourhood, People, Kids, family:
• Gossip Mongers – especially those who seem to hang around-with and talk-behind-back of the same person.
• Nosy parkers and peeping toms in the neighbourhood.
• People passing lewd comments / uncalled-for judgments.
• Kids acting like grown-ups, watching serials, telling lies or making lame excuses, being bullies (smartasses!), doing anything-but- behaving like kids.
• Hubby asking you to fetch “this” or “that” when it’s actually closer to him and you’ve just sat down to put your feet up!
3. Business, Workplace, Job:
• Loyalty at workplace is hardly rewarded – Hee-Haw! (The jumping jacks make more money a month than what you make a year!).
• The politics & double games you are expected to play to succeed in your business.
• Boss who says “yesterday” for deadlines, “today” for meetings, and “tomorrow” for pay hike (but tomorrow never comes!).
• Colleagues who try to dump the job & client on you, trying to keep their hands clean; Colleagues who send half-baked brief for full-baked ideas; Colleagues who pretend to be morons when they actually are jug heads…(list is endless).
• Clients who want the best-in-class @ rock-bottom-prices! (And when the agency closes down because they almost did charity business with the same clients for dog-years, end up paying 10 times more hiring 10 such agencies!)
4. Telephone, Emails, Internet, Computer:
• Call centre executives (CCEs) who ask for Mr. XYZ, when their records clearly state the customer is female; CCEs who make it sound like the next half hour of product selling actually comes free, just that Rs.123 followed by a few 0’s will show up in the next month’s statement; CCEs (sitting in some Godforsaken place in Chennai) who ask “Why saar…you are the privilege customer, that is why we are giving you these special offer saar!” and can’t take “not interested” for an answer…(the list is again endless, nevertheless annoying!)
• Phones through which you can’t hear a thing, and must repeatedly say “sorry?, excuse me?, could you please speak up a bit?...” and the person on the other hand thinks you are either deaf or dumb.
• Computers that don’t work as fast as you do and “hang” just when the work is almost done but you haven’t saved the file yet.
• Internet connection that’s slow as a snail.
• Emails that don’t make sense even if you read, re-read, a million times over… and it still sounds like Greek & Latin!
5. Traffic, Vehicles:
• Motorists forming 6 lanes, when there’s space only for 2 lanes, and creating a traffic jam (The person in the extreme right lane is hollering & honking the most, because if he doesn’t, he’ll be at the receiving end!)
• Buses halting in the middle of the road even when there are bus bays / bus stops, sticking their big red butts not letting anyone overtake, on the left or right!
• Auto rickshaws overtaking on the left and denting the car or ripping the side-view mirror casing off (haven’t replaced it yet…too expensive!) and then having the gall to stop and pick up a fight (starts with wordy duel and almost ends in fist fights!).
• The old fart engine packed in a box running on wheels, which leaves a trail of smoke & hoot, blackening your windshield and blinding & deafening other motorists within a mile.
• Roads that are more like gaping holes (not just potholes) with ‘tar’ being a mere filler, in between.
• No flyovers, pedestrian walkways / crossings, just roads that seem to be getting narrower by the day.

These are just few of the many things that can tick me off. My face flushes red and I think it’s high time I check my BP….Meanwhile send in your chants and sweet mantras that can help me keep my cool :)

A species* that is likely to become extinct

Jo-hukoom-mere-aka.

• They work their ass-off. Hee-Haw!
• They’re willing to do any job that comes their way. Hee-Haw!
• They volunteer to do a job or sort a problem, which eventually gets added to their job profile, with no increase in the take home, except for the extra load of work and pressure. Hee-Haw!
• They lend their fundas – “interface”, “approach notes”, “information architecture”, “rationale”, “process flow”…that soon become the norm at the workplace. Hee-Haw!
• They yap about all and sundry to keep their sanity. Hee-Haw!
• They pledge their loyalty to the Company they work in. Even when a bigger better job is offered to them, they refuse to budge. Hee-Haw!

Cover-up agents.

• They cover-up follies in a diplomatic manner. Hee-Haw!
• When client asks for schedule: “Will discuss with team and get back to you”. Hee-Haw!
• When client asks when the job will be done: “Team is working on it. Will keep you posted.” Hee-Haw!
• When the irate client asks, Why is this blue, when I asked for red: Bloody hell, they think on their feet and with the most convincing of expressions reply: “Blue symbolizes hope, joy , prosperity, royalty…” da, da, da it goes till the client says, yeah…coming to think of it, I’m beginning to like it. Hee-Haw!
• And so on…

No-moolah. No problem.

 

• If not paid a couple of months (financial crunch), they don’t question. They swear allegiance; wear a pair of horse blinds so they are not tempted to jump at the slightest whiff of opportunity coming their way. Hee-Haw!
• If the last raise or promotion came a couple of years back, they let it pass. What the heck! In fact, they slog harder. Hee-Haw!
• They sweet-talk others (the not paid, half-paid, demoralized or simply wanting to graze the meadows that seem greener on the other side kinds) to continue working in the company. Hee-Haw!

Thick-skinned, nothing affects them.

• Not the KMA (Kiss My Ass) policy of the higher-ups. This species would rather swear by the Kick-ass methodology to get work done or to solve a problem. Hee-Haw!
• Not the laid-back attitude of colleagues. A kick in the butt (or at least saying “I’m gonna kick your butt”) can fix that attitude. Hee-Haw!
• Not the incorrigible commonsense-less behavior of other teams working on the project who pretend that it is the soon-to-be-extinct-species’ job to tell them if they’re doing their job right or wrong (The species under study would like to call them blockheads, morons, jackasses or what have you!). Hee-Haw!
• Not the dressing-down from the boss, which is often not even remotely related to what the species is actually supposed to do. Hee-Haw!
• Not the boring jobs that come their way. Hee-Haw!
• Not the “deadline yesterday” jobs that may get done “the day before”, but may remain in office for “another week or so” because “some moron” forgot to upload it. Hee-Haw!
• Not the brown, watery, sugary stuff they get twice a day. Hee-Haw!
• Not even the HR mandate, as per which, you need to behave like a zombie. Hee-Haw!
• Nothing, NOTHING can stop this species. But fear is, they’ll soon be extinct. Hee-Haw!

Now, am I turning into a fossil?

* The species (subject of this post), as research reveals, is fast disappearing from the face of the earth. Send in your votes (comments) to sustain this species and to save it from being extinct.

A workaholic’s T20 confessions

1. Someone who’s so addicted to work, that everything seems double.
2. Starts with one, then mixes a couple of other. After a heady cocktail, starts all over again.
3. Stays slumped in the chair, with a morose expression and a blank screen under the pretext of “thinking”.
4. When there’s a call, swears (Gosh…work is also a 4-letter word people!) and drawls over the r’s and the l’s. Unintelligible conversation pursues.
5. Calls everybody else a “moron”, thinks everything else is “funny”.
6. Hates going to a meeting, and stifles the irrepressible yawn begging to be excused with the lamest of excuses “Oxygen depletion”.
7. Staggers around, drunk in a pile of work.
8. No hiccups, just goes on gulping it down, sometimes bottoms-up.
9. Smiles when the work is piling. Laughs when it hits the ceiling.
10. Is always right. Can’t argue there.
11. Ain’t a stickler for time. Deadlines, yes. But not the coming in or going out.
12. And once in, doesn’t bother to leave till the lights are out and the shutters are half down.
13. Will work-ass-off or kick-ass to get work done.
14. Got nothing to confide. Life is an open book. And the workplace gets most of the waking hours.
15. No one questions, not even the big B. Comes dirt cheap, yet very effective you see.
16. Rub salt, some lime and down a tequila. You’ll know what I mean. Got some more peanuts?
17. Can’t stay off it, sometimes. Not even some weekends or those weak-days!
18. Maybe it’s the hangover of yesterday. The head is pounding.
19. The watering hole beckons. The bartender is ready with the cocktail.
20. I’m headed to a de-addiction centre instead. Enuff said. 

On a constant trip

This time, to Fish Pond, Njarackal. With Family and some ex-neighhbours. It’s a backwater picnic spot roughly about 22 kms from our home. The sky is a bit gloomy, with grey clouds and the sun hidden well within its frills. The weatherman (my better half) declares “it’s the perfect weather for some boating, and no it’s not gonna rain today”.

There’s a small foot-over-water bridge to get there. From there, we take a row boat to get to the other side of the fish pond. The men do the rowing. The rest of us do the yapping. The seat that I’m seated on is broken, and I’m trying my balancing act to keep my butt fixed somewhere, lest I slide to the centre where the wood is almost in splinters. Baby adds to the woes. She’s excited to be on a boat and jumping all over me. The sights around momentarily keep me preoccupied and I forget the butt on the broken wooden seat for a while.

Tranquil waters lined by coconut trees and mangroves. There are a couple of platforms built in the middle of nowhere (the pond) where we can stop by and drink-in the view around. But they were wrecked, so we ditch the plan. We reach a place by the shore where there’s place to sit down, fish, lie on a hammock, and generally enjoy the beauty of nature, so we dock there. We wade through the water, as we get closer to the shore. I almost lose my slippers in the sticky mud beneath the waters. We relax, snack, the kids try their hand at fishing and actually manage to catch one fish (we jump with excitement!), lie in the hammock tied between 2 coconut trees and while away time with no cares in this world.

The men take the row boat across and decide to bring two pedal boats instead (No, the men in the picture are not our men, they're fishermen rowing on their boats in search of their prize catch). We get in and pedal across the pond. Simply serene, beautiful and yes, very intoxicating (hope it doesn’t get addictive!). We sort of laze about, not wanting to go back to the concrete jungles and the madness. Then we get to food. We’re famished after the hours of pedaling. So dig in, without waiting for the word ‘go’. Fish curry meals. Daughter eats twice more than her usual capacity. Icecream for dessert. All of us grin silly.

We then head to a beach closeby. The place is called Milky Way. No Galaxy this. But a world of its own. Baby refuses to get out of the water. We linger on. The clouds get darker. There's a brief lull. The clouds close in and break into a drizzle. We dash to the car and drive away. Ah, a weekend spent well!

Monday, as we’re trying hard to get rid of the Monday morning blues, getting ready to get back to work, news that our maid is not coming back hits us like the storm after the calm. We’re wondering what to do, who takes leave to manage the kids et cetera, when hubby comes up with the idea that we could all take a trip to Alappuzha (where my maid is from) to speak to her, plead with her to come back. We jump into the car and get ready for the trip.

When we get there, she tells her sob story. Son and daughter-in-law fighting with each other when she’s away that it almost came to divorce, 2 little grand children, so she won’t be able to come back, and stuff.

We tell our sob story. Both of us working, baby is now used to having her around, it would be difficult to find another maid in a day’s time, school going to reopen in a week’s time and stuff. Baby adds to the sentiment by crying when we leave the place. We are desperate. We tell her that we’ll give her son a job as well. And she promises to come with her son the next day. We leave with hope resurfacing. Our spirits are lifted.

We go shop-hopping (Kallu shop, i.e., Toddy shop). Plenty of them around the place. Toddy shops are popular for their spicy-yummy delicacies & side eats – mostly fried fish, kappa and fish curry. Slurp, slurp! And then some pure sweet toddy. Daughters too have big gulps of the local drink. Now did they get tipsy? Must’ve, bcoz they sort of crashed in the car, soon after.

And what have we...some fine trips - some planned, some at the spur of the moment.

From Queen of Arabian Sea to Queen of Hills

We set out on a journey. Hubby, 2 daughters, myself and my parents. A whole jing-bang (extended family) was to join us later in Coonoor. We drove down (or should I say uphill?) - From Cochin - the Queen of Arabian Sea, to Nilgiris - the Queen of Hills.

Day 1, Drive to Nilgiri (Blue Hills / Blue Mountain) enroute Thrissur & Coimbatore:
A rather long journey by road. Thankfully we had a few stopovers, visiting family and friends enroute. And the pleasant sights from Mettupalayam to Coonoor was a bonus. Coonoor is a place that goes back to my childhood days. I did my primary schooling, when my dad was posted there. From the time we reached Coonoor, the nostalgia was overwhelming. We were headed to my Uncle's place, in Railey Compound, which was where I lived (way back in the 80s). I could very clearly remember the road that led to the house I used to stay. Memories flashed before my eyes. Gulp! Never felt this way before.

Day 1, Coonoor:
Found a place to park. Had to walk down quite a few steps before we got to the house. Freshened up and set out, on foot. The whole of Coonoor is more or less connected by steps (the short-cut). Over 2 decades, and nothing much had changed. More houses, more people, more vehicles, more heat, more pollution perhaps. But still, it looked more or less the same to me.

We first headed to my old school, my alma mater - St.Joseph's Anglo Indian Higher Secondary School. My heart was racing. Gulp! Gulp! Gulp! as I walked down the memory lane. Many new blocks seemed to have come up. But my classrooms seemed intact. The steps where we used to play "Crocodile", the ground where we used to play "Dog and the bone", the auditorium where I sang, danced and participated in fancy dress competitions, the chapel, the garden, the cafetaria where I ate "delicious cocunut burfee"....brought back fond memories of my school days. I was excitedly playing guide to my hubby & elder daughter telling them sweet anecdotes of my past. I didn't want to leave. I even thought, maybe I should put my daughters in this school, so I'll have reason to come again, and again! But alas, I had to bid adieu, at least for the moment.

We then went to the marketplace. An old family friend who had a shop (provision store), still has the same shop, which got no bigger, just that there were a lot more things. She looked the same too. The veg & fruit market looked inviting and fresh as fresh can be. Met a few old family friends along the way. They'd seen me when I was a kid and here I was with 2 kids my own!

We walked and climbed and panted all the way. Railway Station, railway level crossing, small shops and everything around looked fascinating enough. My legs were literally begging for mercy (my elder daughter was riding piggy-back on hubby bcoz she got awfully tired with all that walking!), so we called it a day.

Day 2, Ooty:
To Ooty by train. As the train chugged along the hilly terrain, we took in the lovely sights around us. The quaint hilly town, the brightly coloured houses stacked up the hill, the rolling greens of tea plantation, the hills and valleys, the tunnels and everything else in between. Feast to the eyes!

Dodabetta (the 2nd highest peak in South India). The drive up was tiring with all those hairpin bends. But I guess it was worth it. Top of the world (err...South India)!

Boat House. A boat ride in the lake. The tall trees on all sides, blue skies above, a toy train entering the tunnel, crisp waters under, mist clad hills around.

Botanical Garden was a pretty sight. What with all the many varieties of flowers, trees and plants. The mist covered the place, slowly yet steadily. Picture perfect shots. The drizzle got us scurrying on our feet and we winded up for the day. Missed the Rose Garden (supposed to have 25000 varieties of flowers!).

Day 3, Kodanad View Point & Kotagiri:
A beautiful drive. Breathtaking sights uphill. We stopped for photo shots, memories for keeps. The view was absolutely stunning from the View Point. More pictures. We spent a while and resumed our journey back to Coonoor. The drive back was just as interesting. We stop by, the men take a leak. We christen the place loo-hills. And continue the journey downhill.

We passed by Kotagiri. Tea plantations, houses dotting the hills, hairpin bends (and baby puke!) and we finally reach Coonoor.

Day 4, Back to Queen of Arabian Sea, enroute Kotagiri and Coimbatore:
We started our journey back home. Road diversion because of peak traffic in weekend. We were asked to take the Kotagiri route.

"Kotagiri, here we come". A relative of my hubby is head of a provinciate. We became his guests of honour. He took us around the place. Not many adjectives left (used up all of them, haven't I!) to describe the place. You have to see it to believe it. Food on the house. And we resumed our journey.

3 weeks after the trip, Back to routine in Cochin:

Memories linger. Photographs do the talking. The trip was a good break from all the heat down here (sultry weather, routine work, yada, yada...). Looking forward to the next vacation already!

So long...

The Zombie Ritual

At the Workplace:

• Enter. Find scooters / bikes parked in the only 4-wheel parking slot left. Leave it under the gummy tree and don't look behind.
• Remove your brains and boots at the door.
• Swipe card and hear the automated "welcome" message (that you probably don't hear because you just left your brains in your boots).
• Don't bother looking up, nobody can see you (you are the invisible Zombie, remember?).
• Head straight to your desk, don't acknowledge, smile or greet anybody on your way (They don't even know you exist!).
• Switch on your machine, then perhaps look on your sides, somebody might be waiting to catch your glance, smile or simply grin (Now they can see you!).
• Check your mails. There would be at least one mail to shoot your blood to the brain and get you started on the job (Of calling, mailing, yelling, puffing and doing everything else instead of actually getting to the problem). A great way to start work!
• Settle down and get down to work (if you can get out of the non-stop calls, emails, concalls, meetings, stenography, minutes of the meetings, dressing downs, passing the buck sessions, scheduling, status updates, planning, evaluating, testing...anything but what you really ought to do!)
• Break for grapevine. A cup of brown-sugary-milky stuff they call tea, some biscuits, peanuts or kurkure and barrels of grapevine (Burp!).
• Get back to work (if you can avoid the million other interruptions with a pair of horse-blinds maybe!).
• Break for lunch. Nonsensical conversation - Proclaim judgement on Tom, Dick and Harry, Talk about Current Affairs, Home Affairs and just about any topic under the sun, with some rice to go with it!
• Back to work (got to hire a couple of clones to take over the ancillary jobs that is quickly becoming your main job!)
• Break for the milky-sugary stuff with a faint whiff of tea. Gossip-mongers these Zombies(So the focus is the hot conversations, and the tea soon gets cold!).
• Swears to get work done this time over, when trrring, trrring...Big B on the other end, requesting for a 5 minute Discussion.
• 5 minute stretches to 5 hours.
• Late again! Zombie will now have to deal with the dressing-down session at home...
• But Zombie is back to work again. Happy to see the other zombies at work.
• And life goes on!

Rain, rain come again

A welcome respite from the incessant heat and humidity, it's almost always rain, rain, come again (and not "go away" for little Johnny to play!). And the rains are here with a bang.

The harsh winds (what seems like a 100 miles/hr or more), the loud and roaring thunder (that frightens puppies and babies alike), the flash of lightning (that strikes across the skies and burns anything it comes in contact with to cinders), the dark and gloomy clouds (that carry such a foreboding and mournful appearance), the first few large drops of water (that is cool yet heavy), the smell of wet mud (that most of us love), the pitter-patter of the rains (that is fun when you're indoors, tucked in under the blanket or holding a cup of hot chocolate), the umbrellas of various shapes, sizes and colours (wet and dripping, opening and closing), the bigger vehicles splashing muddy water over smaller vehicles (and the smaller vehicles splashing it over pedestrians), the noise of toads and crickets after the rains (singing lovey-dovey songs perhaps), the puddles and pools (what's left of the rains, a gentle reminder of the water that we could have harvested and used during dry spell)...and I could go on pitter-patter about the rains, but it's got to stop somewhere, so I can get on with what I really started out to.

Much as I have waited for the rains, that is actually sweet relief, after the scorching heat and the sultry weather that has stretched from after the last monsoon, I prefer to enjoy it indoors. Watching the pitter-patter (and most often thunder & lightning means no power, which means no watching TV!), Singing with the kids (hubby lends the bass), Snacking (hot chocolate and hot bajji is my favourite!), and generally Lazying about.

The wet outdoors are quite a sight. I pull out my camera and take some random shots. The rains seem to bring everything around to life. Two boys playing cricket in the rain. Click. The green looks greener. Click. I go in, grab a snack. I step out. Two boys multiplied many times over. Enjoying cricket with the rain pouring down, the ball lost in the puddle. Click. I think the boys are crazy to play in the rain. They perhaps think, I am crazy to stay indoors.


Rain. Perspectives.


Here ends the incessant rains, the incessant chatter. But the toads and cricket continue with their croak-croak and crick-crick into the night.

Money Laundry

Some crisp currency clenched in my fist, I looked up, guilt writ across my face. I shouldn't have done it, blame it on being an "erring" mortal being!

Money laundry. Imagine that! No, I din't get it wrong. I did not pinch anybody else's money. So the subject I embark upon is obviously not "money laundering", as you would have imagined. What with all the brouhaha of money-laundering in the IPL (read "Indian Political League" and "Indian Premier League"). This is simply about forgetfully leaving some money in your pocket, only to "find" or rather "discover" it perhaps months later, crushed yet crisp, after the soaking, washing, twisting, rinsing and drying in the washing machine.

Well, the other things that are oft forgotten in pockets before laundry, include tickets (bus, movie, park...), bills and receipts (supermarket, ATM receipts...) yada, yada, yada. Just a couple of days back, I discovered some crisp notes and an ancient shopping bill in my jeans pocket (jeans going through laundry is unimaginable in the first place, coz I usually "dryclean" - read, "hang it out to dry", but that subject is matter for another post, lest I digress).

Are currencies really designed to go through the laundry process? It isn't. It sort of fades off (doesn't it!), becomes crispier and if you put it out to dry in the sun it would perhaps just crumble.

But it should be made laundry-able, don't you think? The number of hands it changes, the sweat, the blood stains, the saliva, the grease, the tobacco and God knows what, justifies the need for a "hand (or) machine wash cum tumble dry cum steam iron"-able currency note. That way, the currency would be "crisp as new" for a long time to come. And just like how we iron, fold and stack clothes neatly in a wardrobe, we can stack these washed, dried and ironed notes in bundles of 100 and stash it away in the safe or in the bank as we please.

Ladies and ladas, I rest my case. Let's write to the RBI for laundry-able currency notes.

When darkness spoke

It was an hour everybody was counting down to. Or so I seemed to think. The hour came. Our apartment was plunged into darkness. There were a few other houses and apartments in our neighbourhood that followed suit. The others seem unaffected, going about their routine life as if nothing mattered to them. We groped our way in the darkness and got to the rooftop. There was an eerie silence. And it was dark. But we felt good.

It was earth hour. A campaign to raise awareness on climate change. A call to every individual, every business and every community throughout the world. To stand up, take responsibility, get involved and find a way towards a sustainable future.

If an hour of darkness (no lights, fans, AC, TV, Computer, Fridge, Washing Machine, Microwave, or any other electric appliances) can help make a difference, so be it. Because we understand if we don't do this something, someday it will not be a "choice", it would rather be "because there's no other alternative".

Wake up people. Do your bit. Turn off lights / fans / any other appliances, if you are not using them or if you step out of the room. If there are 4 in a family, instead of each occupying a separate room (with light, tv, ac/fan etc on), try to cuddle up in a single room, and bond with each other. Go outdoors with family & friends on weekends. Home after work, instead of being a couch potato looking at the idiot box 24x7 (the rest of your waking hours I mean), try spending quality time with family, talking to each other. If you're the last person to leave home / office, remember to switch off the mains. Take a shower in cold water, rather than use the Geyser. And other seemingly "little" things that can make a "big" difference.

The world is getting hotter by the day. Global warming they say. Sweat, sweat. Obviously, there’s more to it than switching off lights for one hour once a year during "Earth hour". It is about find a way / working together to create a sustainable low carbon future for our planet.

Do something guys. Say something guys.

Overdue

Better late than never. So here I am.

I had to literally vanish from blogsphere. No maid. It was sort of like a relay. Morning, up at 5.30, send elder daughter to school by 7 (that included packing her bag, her lunch, her snacks....), baby wakes up before or after, thrust bottle into her mouth, no she didn't go back to sleep, she just got her energy feed to make me run around her, manage to cook the breakfast and lunch in between, clean up (can't skip that, bcoz baby walks around with her lens to pick up the tiniest speck I might have missed and put in her mouth), give baby her bath (she hates to come out of it, so there's a struggle there as well!), have breakfast, pack lunch, take a bath, get dressed, drive down to mom's place which is close by, drop-off parcel (baby!), rush to work swearing at the I'm-not-in-a-hurry type of drivers who won't let you pass (it would already be past 10 am by then, and my work hours are supposed to start at 9.30 am), a pile of work waiting for me, only time seemed to pass, the work list only got bigger, at the fag end of the day - work followed me out of the door, the drive down to mom's place, pick up both daughters, drive down home, no it doesn't end there, there's dinner to cook, eat, clean up, get things ready for the next day, phew! It was a marathon. And I'm glad it has ended.

We got a maid yday. So far so good. A bit hard of hearing (I may have to better my sign language skills). But, she seems to be ok otherwise. She made some delicious beef curry today. God bless her. I hope the baby takes to her.

The other long overdue story, is that of my trip to Kuwait, with family, to celebrate Xmas & New Year with my sis & family. Had a great time.

• Sightseeing/Fun - Kuwait Towers, Entertainment City, Scientific Centre & Aquarium, Beach Side.



• Movies - Avatar (3D) at the iMAX in 360 deg Mall, Under the Sea (3D) at the Scientific Centre, Motor Race (4D) at the Entertainment City.


• Shopping/Window Shopping at the many Malls & Gold Souk.



• Visiting Friends & Relatives


• Fine Dining - At Ruby Tuesday (Continental - some yum scrum seafood delicacies, dessert and drink), Nandos (Portuguese - Mild, hot, very hot chicken & lamb delicacies), Chocolate (Yummy Chocolate Fondu & pudding), Satchi (Japanese - tried Sushi & Maki), Mc Donalds, Burger King, Pizza Hut and such restaurants. We also got to have Arabic Food (can't remember the names of the dishes, but they were good!), Thai Food (loved the Tom Yum soup), Indian Chinese Food, Kerala Food and Arabic Sweet




• In short - A splendid holiday and a good break from our routine.

Now, looking forward to our next holiday. And hoping to get back to blogging. If time (read 'maid') permits, that is!

Story by Linda John

Zena the Crocodile, and his friends.
- Story by Miss Linda John, published by Star Night

In a place called Wilmont in the Mexican city, there lived a crocodile named Zena who worked in the zoo. He was a clever and handsome croc. Most people appreciated him for his talent and looks. Yet he was very sad because he had no friend. When he got back home, he decided to start looking out for new friends.

The next day, he put up a notice on the main gate:
FRIENDS WANTED.
- ZENA CROC
NATIONAL PARK
BIG PIE STREET
WILMONT, MEXICO.

He waited eagerly for a response.

The following day, somebody rang the door bell. Zena saw a little girl with a serious expression, standing at the door.
Girl: I came here to be your friend.
Croc: Please come in.
Girl: My name is Meethi.
Croc: My name is Zena and I am glad you came here to become my friend.

The door bell rang again. There was a small furry thing, with four legs and a tail.
Meethi to small furry thing: I think you are a pup.
Pup: Yes I am. My name is Tim.
Tim to Zena: I came here to become your friend.

All were very glad that they had found friends for themselves. They wondered what game they could play together.
Meethi screamed excitedly: Let's draw and colour a rainbow.
Croc cried: But we have no hands to draw.
Tim chipped in: OK, let's play something like hitting the ball with the tail.
Meethi complained: But I have no tail.

Now they were clearly disappointed, bcoz they realized that each one of them was a different kind. It got dark. Impatience was growing in.
Meethi declared: We can never become friends. Let's all depart. Goodbye!
They went their own way.

Zena was very sad that he lost his friends. But he never again thought of making friends and never ever hung up any more notices.

THE END.


* This story was handwritten by my dear sis MSA (a good 22 years back). I discovered it recently in a storybook, which I pulled out from the cupboard to read to my daughter. The paper was found neatly folded in a self-made envelope (torn on one side) and addressed from/to:

From
Star Night Magazines Company Limited

To
Miss Alice
London, UK

I fondly remembered those good old days, when we used to make up situations, where the whole drama unfolded before our very eyes. We used to make up characters and don their roles. My sister was almost always Linda John, sometimes a writer, sometimes a waiter, sometimes a cook. I was almost always Ann, sometimes an artist, sometimes an architect, sometimes a diner, sometimes a teacher. Our friend and neighbour (wonder where she is and what she does now) was almost always Alice, sometimes a rich estate owner, sometimes a princess, sometimes a beggar.

We used to pitch tents inside our rooms and play these games till the sun went down. I remember another game, for which we bought small earthern pots with our pocket money (which was sparse those days), put them on 3 bricks and firewood. Set fire, cooked food. One of our older friends used to do the cooking, and we used to wait for it to cook, so we could eat our fill.

Hmmm....those were the days indeed.

Heavens...here I come!

It was an outing I didn't quite look forward to. Some of our neighbours and my family set out to this destination that was tucked somewhere up the hills. It was Saturday. I went to work as usual. By about 1.15 pm I got out of office, reached home in a jiffy with my foot on the pedal, had a hurried lunch, changed clothes, grabbed my baby and jumped into the car with my hubby. It was a long ride. We caught up with the others enroute. Had some Chai & Vada.

The journey from Vadankacherry to Nelliampathy was lovely. Lush green paddy fields on either side. The majestic mountains in the backdrop. It was indeed a visual treat for my weary eyes. The Pothundy Dam was again a ravishing sight. When we reached the foothills, there was this Forest Guard check post, where they make a note of all the vehicles entering the forest area (Yeah...we were actually going to tread the territory that belonged to the wild and the unknown). Here's where the unforeseen and the untoward occurred.

We had our cars parked one after the other and a few of us stepped out of our cars to straighten our legs. Suddenly, the tranquil setting was interrupted. We heard the kids cry out "Baba, baba...". We saw one of the cars (part of our entourage) moving in the reverse direction, slowly but gaining speed because it was a slope. The quick-on-his-feet (he had some presence of mind) Baba (father) - ran, opened the door, jumped into the seat and screeched the car to a halt. The car right behind veered to the right in the nick of time. Phew. Our hearts had skipped a couple of beats. We were all shaking our heads, in total disbelief of what had just happened and glad that we were all safe and heading again to our destined destination.

We took in the beautiful sight around us. The lake below, the hills and valleys, the greenery around, the occasional springs and waterfalls, the winding roads, the hairpin bends, the tea plantations on either side, the chirping birds...we went higher and higher up! Loved each moment of it.

I almost thought I would turn into Wordsworth and churn out a million poems at a wave of my pen...but alas, got caught up in the hectic schedules that followed at work, and just managed this measely bit of a travelogue, that I know wouldn't do full justice to my journey. Nevertheless, something's better than nothing!

At about 7 pm, we reached our Destination.
A Bungalow sitting pretty amidst the coffee and tea plantations at Rajakkad Estate, Padagiri, Nelliampathy (Palakkad District, Kerala). We ventured about the bungalow...spacious rooms, high ceilings , not a single fan but nice and cold, each of us picked our rooms and dumped bag and baggage. A bonfire was set outside, perfect for the weather. We sat around, sang, danced and played games and downed some shots to sort of warm up. Chicken Biryani followed. We then ventured out into the wild. Got to see some deer. We retired to bed.

Next morning, we were all up quite early. 5.30 am. Washed up, had some black coffee, and decided to trek up the hill. There was a stream closeby. A couple of guys pretended to fish, fishing rod and all. We walked and walked. There were some leeches that kept us worried, the bloody blood suckers! I got pricked by 4 of them, but managed to get them off my legs before the damage was done. We got to see some wild goats on our way. Plucked fresh oranges and ate them. Sugarcane too. It was a refreshing walk. The experience cannot be expressed in words. It was awesome.

When we went back to the bungalow, breakfast was served. Puri-masala. We gobbled it up (lost count actually!) and set out on our next adventure ride. On a tractor. In fact, I got to drive the mean machine (a few metres backward and forward, that's all, but was sure good enough). It was a roller-coaster ride, but fun all the same, as we were riding right into the forest, with no path - gravel nor muddy. We got to see lion-tailed monkeys and a palace in ruins.

Next on our itinerary was the organic farm. Then the view point at Seethargundu Estate. It was mind-blowing. We felt on top of the world. The sight below was fabulous. Picture perfect I must say. We got to see the mist blowing from below, wrapping the mountains. We took a deep breath. Fresh air and perhaps a fear of heights. My head was spinning, intoxicated perhaps, with all that beauty around.

Greenland Estate next. We got to see a few exotic species of birds, among them, emus, flying ducks, turkeys that let out a chorus croon (like in an orchestra) everytime we whistled etc caught our attention. There were some breeds of dogs too.

Our legs were begging for mercy now. And we were famished. Midway, on our way back to the bungalow, one of the cars had a small problem. By the time we had lunch, it was 4 pm. Time to wrap up our vacation and bid goodbye to the heavens. It was drizzling. Maybe the heavens shed a few tears, as we were leaving.

The sights were just as beautiful, top to bottom. Earth....here we come!