Travel Diaries - Part I

Summers are always a good time to take trips. No professional obligations, no deadlines to meet, no assignments to turn in. Plus, it gives you something to look forward to other than the unbearable heat. This summer proved to be no different than the rest. Hot and full of excitement. So there I was standing on the platform at Kacheguda Railway station, Hyderabad, India. I remember feeling anxious, excited and nervous all at once. Trips tend to do that to you. They are so exciting because they offer an alternative to the monogamous schedule of life, they offer new sights, people and experiences.  They teach you lessons in life that no classroom ever can. But more on that later.

source:http://www.theprospect.net/wp-content/uploads/2014/04/Summer-iStock_000012730140XSmall.jpg

So there I was, suitcase in hand along with my grandparents and brother waiting the arrival of our train. I was returning to the place of my birth, the city which I will always fondly call my own; Bangalore. Our dual purpose in visiting the city was to attend a relatives wedding as well as the more anticipated; tour of the state. My grandparents called Karantaka home for 25 years, however they had never really explored this beautiful state of theirs. So after nearly 3 decades of residing in Karnatka my grandmother suddenly developed a hankering to go on a tour of the state' more specifically the grand temples it boasted of. And we were invited along for the ride. And 'why not?' I thought when my mother first proposed the idea to me. I have never been one to turn down an adventure and somehow I had a feeling that this trip would be nothing short of one. 

source:http://www.world-guides.com/images/bangalore/bangalore_city_map.jpg

Train journeys are always on the whole an enjoyable experience for me. The Indian railway is a study of contrasts. After trying unsuccessfully to gauge whether its merits or demerits dominate I have reached the conclusion that like with everything in life the Railways too are neither totally good nor bad, but bits of both. 

It is true to most people the Railways are an experience they'd rather avoid. The stations are dirty and unkempt; beggars, pickpockets and stray animals being their permanent residents. But the hustle and bustle of the railway station has always managed to impress rather than repulse me. Sleeper class is considered to be something of a nightmare to the average affluent Indian. And it is, to a certain extent. The compartment offers no privacy nor protection from the scores of beggars and eunuchs who crawl in and out of them aggressively demanding your attention. The stench of the toilets make it impossible for you to go about your business and you hope to God you don't catch something infectious from them. The Ac coach seems like Paradise in comparison. 

source:http://static.indianexpress.com/m-images/Mon%20Aug%2012%202013,%2016:33%20hrs/M_Id_409780_Indian_Railways.jpg

But despite all that I always prefer sleeper class for only one reason. The superb view it offers. In AC it is impossible to let the windows down and feel the air on your face. Most of the time the tinted windows of the compartment don't even offer you a decent view of whats outside the train. And for me that completely defeats the purpose of travelling by train in the first place. I've read somewhere that if you want to see India, do it by train. And for the most part I find that to be true. The railway routes take you through some of the most scenic and breathtaking patches of nature and show of the stellar wildlife off India to its best advantage. And for me the visual treat I receive during these journeys are more than enough to make up for all the physical inconveniences a hundred times over.   

                 (This is a photo taken by me, during the said train journey)

We reached Bangalore without event and I was awash with a sense of Deja Vu. The familiar sights and buildings seemed like old friends to me and my brain fought to accommodate the changes which had taken place as well. Bangalore, today boasts of being one of the most developed metropolises in the country but at the same time I feel the city has lost some of its soul and has become cool and impersonally 'organised' to a certain degree. Hyderabad's chaos and earthiness lends it a certain warmth that I felt was lacking in Bangalore. But hey, then again maybe that's just me. 

We attended the nuptials which like most Indian weddings took place in a temple and then from there proceeded to meet up with relatives who stayed in the city, most of them who were elderly and delighted to see us. 

source:http://www.colonrectal.net/images/old_people_group.png

An interesting observation I made about old people during this trip. The things they insist on talking about will undoubtedly be some or perhaps all of the following;

1. The various ailments that plague them.
2. Comparison of the price of various household commodities if you are visiting them from another place. 
3. And then; all the family gossip. They sit there and go all like;

'Did you know Ritu's uncle's maternal aunt's youngest daughter went to the U.S to study for her doctorate?'

'Malini's sister-in-laws, stepmothers third nephew just got a promotion!'

'Accha, is Rakesh's nephew's 3rd daughter married yet? My neighbour's son's friend's brother is a good boy! Shall I send the family his horoscope?'

source:http://www.najknjiga.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/01/horoscope2013.gif

And I sit there with a dumb expression on my face going like, 'Who are all these people? Are they even related to me?' 

But with all due respect, the elders in the family are a pleasure to hang out with. They shower blessings on you freely and delight in listening to you talk about your life. They insist of giving you money and often dispense random tidbits of advice with the intention to help you out in some way or the other. I'm glad we took the time out to go and visit these people. They give freely and love unconditionally. They make me proud of the fact that I belong to their family. 

And so, after finishing up with the commitments we had in Bangalore, My grandparents, my grandfather's elder brother, my brother and I set out on our tour of the majestic state of Karnataka. 

TO BE CONTINUED . . . . . 

All That Glitters . . .

Mistakes. Mistakes sum up the entire essence of human existence. Some mistake in the genetic programming of our primate ancestors led to the evolution of the first ever human. A mistake in natures normal pattern ensured that brains and not brawn would emerge victorious and somehow we ended up as the dominant species on this planet. Our history is dotted with mistakes, small mistakes and huge ones, mistakes that caused war and bloodshed and mistakes that resulted in amazing new discoveries! Mistakes that were frowned upon and mistakes that were applauded! 

Hence it wouldn't be surprising to realize that even in our lives we commit colossal and minuscule blunders both knowingly and unknowingly every day! When we think about it mistakes are such commonplace things that often are rendered inconsequential with the passage of time. So it comes as a shock that every time we do commit mistakes we feel as if they are the end of the world when in reality they are just a microscopic glitch in the entire fabric of our lives. But then again, we humans are the creatures of the present so we feel everything poignantly and to full effect. 

Well, this realization hit home today with mind-numbing force. Sometimes you make mistakes that are so huge that they change the way you view your life forever! 
I committed one such mistake. I hurt a friend. I did the unspeakable. I took him for granted.

To me, being cherished and appreciated by my loved ones is the highest satisfaction that life has to offer! I never considered this to be true for those around me as well. I have always prided myself for being a staunch and loyal friend, however nothing is as it appears to be. All that glitters is indeed not gold. I did realize that things were not functioning ideally in our friendship however I rather chose to ignore the cracks in our perfect facade hoping that they would magically heal themselves. However I forgot that I was dealing with a sentient human being and not some lifeless robot capable of regeneration. 

Let me be more precise. As I have always maintained I have had exactly 3 best friends my whole life and he is one of them. However calling him my best friend would be a gross understatement, he is my brother, my family member, an intrinsic part of who I am. Still, like countless others before me who are fortunate enough to be blessed with angles for friends we often fail to recognize the real deal and are jolted harshly to our senses only when we are in danger of that very thing slipping through our fingers. The problem in our case was that he is an angel and I am an insensitive wreck. He is the type of person who cares less about how people treat him and more about how he treats them. He can never remain angry for long and usually gets over being offended pretty quickly. 

I realize now that I had unconsciously taken his saintly nature for granted and had mistaken him to be exactly that. A saint. I forgot that he too is a real person with very real feelings that are in danger of being hurt.

I consciously chose to spend time with my other friends over spending time with him as I was full of the misplaced confidence that whatever happened I could run back to him if things were to come crashing down. That is where things went south. I had reduced him to a fallback. An option. No friends of yours should ever treat you as an option! Yet that is what I did! Unconsciously, it may be but I stripped our friendship of any value by not giving it any importance. Even the most firmly rooted tree will curl up its roots and die if you refuse to water it. That is exactly what happened in this case. Relationships are like trees, that will weather almost any storm, will stand fast even in the strongest of gales provided their foundation is strong, their roots are firm. And the key to having strong roots is to nourish your relationship regularly by pouring love, warmth and caring into it. 

I have learnt my lesson now and I am trying hard to mend walls and fix fences however I do have the sense that things are never going to be the same again. As the legendary poet Rahim Das says:

Rahiman Dhaaga Prem Ka

Mat Thodo Chattkaye

Toote phir na jure

Jure toh gannt padh jaye

Meaning: Do not break the string of love. 

Once broken it will not join again.

Even if it does there will always be a knot in it as a reminder

Still, an intact string is any day preferable to a broken one and hopefully with due diligence and attention to detail this knot will soon fade into anonymity and our friendship will once more regain its light and hearty flavor. I hope for the best..

Sweet Nothings

So I was watching this movie (Yeah that's it. No mile-long intro this time. I frankly don't have the time, or patience ) "A Little Bit Of Heaven" (great movie by the way!) and as I was crying uncontrollably and blowing my nose ( very loudly and disgustingly I might add) I realized . .. . . . . nothing.
Yes, indeed. There was no epiphany, no dawning of anything upon me. No strange halo of light surrounding me, nothing, zero. Why you might ask? Don't. I have no answer for you. I am random. Deal with it.
So anyways back to me crying and soiling a perfectly good towel (disgusting I know, but hey there wasn't a napkin nearby). I was being carried away by this wave of emotion that was washing over me, leaving me bleached, erasing my identity and leaving me a whisper in the wind. I ceased to exist. And I loved every minute of it.

source: https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPszvwP4B0BAQB5-qlQx8xEG89aVK6t1BY30jPqw07F_g9BQqaFhLEzqOQbytmjfTKJWGd6n0UiL1HllGbyQ_YvJ_n0yvHvl8Fi4Z_lgXozHIE_3KogRrQ5nozx0yj1n5dJQPplUwkN-c/s1600/ALBOH_Quad2.jpg

It wasn't the movie. I mean not this movie in particular. It's me. I do that. I get so absorbed in the silver screen. I feel every heartbreak of the protagonist as poignantly as if it were my own, I shed tears of sorrow at the death of a character. I blush like a retard during the romantic scenes, fall off the sofa hysteric with laughter during the funny ones, wring my hands with anticipation during the tense moments and scream obscenities and hurl free advice at the leads when I know they're about to do something stupid.
So in short I go through every spectrum of emotion that life has to offer me all in an hour or two. And like I said love every minute of it.

source: http://learntoembracethestruggle.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/01/kid-laughing.jpg

Cinema to me is sacred. The theater is my altar and the stars are my deities. Movies offer me a serenity that I desperately need. They give me a break from my life. I drown in the movie and resurface at the end of it, refreshed and rejuvenated. Quality cinema is a gift from the heavens to me. I have always appreciated everything beautiful in life and it is but natural that I would gravitate toward films.
They have so much to offer! Watching a film is like dreaming with your eyes open. It's an insight into the working of the human mind. A direct route to the soul of a human being.  It's satisfying that tiny part in you that still believes in magic and unicorns and happy endings.
I have always been a movie buff but its only recently that I have acknowledged the important niche they occupy in my life. Anything that strengthens my belief in life is dear to me actually. It is not only movies that capture my fancy and make my heart skip a beat. In fact all multi-media manage to serenade me pretty well. Books and songs have their place high up in the list, TV too. Sleep also. I love sleeping. It's my most favorite thing to do in the world.

source: http://maternityinstitute.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/06/how-much-sleep-does-my-child-need1.jpg
  
Anything that whisks me away from reality gets me hooked. I love it when I get the chance to forget the rest of the world and be suspended in limbo with nothing to worry about. It's flying, floating in a pool of cool water. It's like dreaming with your eyes open. (I said that already didn't I?) Like getting high but without any of the harmful side-effects. It's not like I have anything against reality but then everyone needs to blow off steam once in a while and I guess movies are my way of doing that! I am a worrywart. And left to my own devices I would probably convince myself that the world is all dark and evil and smelly. And would probably grow up to be a lonely old woman sitting in a corner cackling away to herself about the latest conspiracy theories.
Stuff like cinema, books and music play their part in keeping me normal and sane. They are by my opinion the pinnacle of mankind's evolution. They make me feel. They restore my faith in humanity and let me see the bright side of things. They are the sweet nothings that help me endure. They are the side dish to the amazing main course: Life.

source: http://www.empowernetwork.com/jlaguerre91/files/2013/03/winning-at-life.jpg












 

Cry Me A River

What do yo do when your gut wrenches with unimaginable grief? Your eyes brim with tears of anger that leave a trail of hot streaks on your cheek?
What do you do when the magnitude of your gratitude is too collosal to be expressed through words? When your eyes turn skyward and your heart burns with relief so fierce that you feel as if you were burning up?
What do you do when the tug of emotion is so gentle and heart numbing that it leaves you breathless? When you overflow with love and peace and everything in between? When the ecstasy in you paints colorful and ethereal pictures in your mind?
What do you do when your spirit soars? And triumph, more potent than any drug lies sweet, on the tip of your tongue? When you are gripped with that unerring faith that everything wil come through . . . . .
What do you do?
You cry yourself a river.

Tears are Gods way of telling you that yes, you are fragile and that's perfectly okay. Tears are your constant companions through the good and the bad. Admittedly mostly through the bad,still who denies that a good cry can be therapeutic at times. Tears are a way of letting you know that you've reached your endurance point but that once you stop to rest for a while you'll be ready to stand up and fight again. Tears  expose the most vulnerable part of you. Honest tears, lay bare your intentions and strip you of your pretentious notions.
They lead you to a realm in the human mind which is understood by few. The realm of emotion. Where every strand of thought is unapologetically colored in innumerable hues, bright and blinding. The part of you that makes you coo at babies, the part that makes you giggle when rejuvenating rain strikes your face, the part of you that few have access to, the real you.
Today connecting with oneself has become next to impossible. Pressures at your workplace, a boss to impress, a mother to hide an illegality from, the leader of the clique who means next to nothing to you yet who you still insist on flattering. . . . .
Such deceptions not only create an alien persona of yourself to others but also alienate you from yourself as well. The real you is the person in the mirror, who you come home to everyday and who you secretly have to live with. Trust your emotions, they speak the truest of you. Truest, not the best. But that's okay because you are obligated to believe in yourself, even if you don't like what you're seeing! Great things start with the proper vision.The moon lay around for centuries but never did it seem so attainable a prospect until scientist hungered for it to be in their grasp. They had vision. All great people do.

source: http://drkimfoster.com/2012/08/03/can-stress-shorten-your-life/

My mission in life was to learn detachment. To stop feeling quite so much. To stop being hurt by the people around me. But then I realized its sort of like what the ostrich does : sticking your head in the ground and wishing the danger away. The more I try to push my feelings away the more I become biscuit.  Feelings are the essence of life, push them away and you lead a bland existence. More stable, yes but all the less intriguing. Life is like an ocean, calm come days, whipping up a frenzy the next. But there is one thing about it you cant deny; be it a calm sparkly day wherein the waves are mere ripples on the surface and the sunlight glints like gems on the surface of the sea or a dark, boisterous, stormy day, wherein the waves refused to be tamed and howl and screech like demented creatures, you cannot deny, the sight is still beautiful and awe inspiring.
I'm trying my best to hit the curve balls life throws at me. I make mistakes everyday but it doesn't change the fact that for every mistake I learn ten times. And that realization sometimes manages to comfort me when I feel all is bleak and damp.
 So yeah, sometimes I cry myself a river, but you know the best thing about rivers? They take you wherever you wanna go!

source: http://voiceofheart-bijaylaxmi.blogspot.in/2012/05/the-river-of-compassion.html

Route No. 18

I felt like Columbus when I first stumbled upon my accidental treasures. My bus mates. My extended family. Sometimes you just get lucky. You hit the right combination, wake up on the right side of the bed, strike the right note whatever you call it . . . . and boy did I hit the jackpot with those guys! My class 9 year will forever be branded as the best year of my school life solely because of them. I stepped into their world quite by accident and they swept me away before I really knew what hit me!

I remember the first day I sat my behind down on one of the dingy seats in an equally dingy bus which surprisingly was carpeted . . . on the roof. My brother and I were expected to travel in this wheezy, stuffy vehicle a grand total of 14 Kms up and down everyday to reach school. I was politely requested to get my behind off, the seat I had seated it on by a girl who appeared far too young to talk to me like that. I don't remember who she was but I remember she was damn stubborn. I had wondered why. I don't anymore.

So I shifted to the back of the bus and smiled a grateful smile when I spotted Sambodhi, a classmate of mine. We had been in the same section in class 7 hence we knew each other quite a bit more than the hi-bye types. I plopped down onto a seat next to her, the very last seat, towad a corner of the bus. A seat which would forever be claimed as mine. I didn't know that then.

I was nervous, not unduly so. I knew Sambodhi, her brother Prabuddh, our Head Boy and Pratham, another prefect personally. And another dude by the name of Sohit. He I knew cuase of his nefarious activities in and around the school, he was sort of the bad boy of our school. I chatted away with Sambodhi once in a while and basically just stared out of the window. Our stop was the second last, before Sambodhi's. We shared it with another class x boy, who's name I later learnt was Rahul Sylvester.

I was not very impressed with my method of transportation. it was nothing but a mean of reaching school and back. I had travelled in a bus once before in class 4 and it was okay, mildly enjoyable. But then this was Pallavi and I was wrong.

Day two I stumbled out of the bus naueseous and annoyed. I understood why the girl had been finicky about me vandalising her property on day one. Apparently these idiots had a reservation system. And so I was stuck in the last seat. Gifted with a driver who was gifted with a knack of steering our bus into lanes physically impossible to fit into for a vehicle that size. Plus the amout of speed brakers we hit did not do anything to help. I remember being fascinated by the way none of the bus people were fazed or interrupted during their talks, they just bounced up and came down, their flow uninterrupted.

And then slowly I got to know them. And my world was not the same anymore. We became a group of 7 guys and 2 girls including myself and my brother. I was part horrfied, part amazed at the jokes they cracked and the things they did. They belonged in a zoo. And the funny part I wanted to be in that zoo, with them!
I got to know Sylvester, the guy at my stop. A sweetheart, with spectacles pushed up on his nose and the most stupid grin you've ever seen. Provided fodder for jokes and was the fodder for countless others on a number of occasions! Sambodhi, myslef and my brother used to get a kick out of trying to decipher what exactly the hell he was speaking in that Tamilian accent. Yes! Tamilian he was. A fact that surprised us and mortified him when he learnt the same of us. He used to discuss Tamil movies and so on with us and was flabbergasted at our illiteracy. We enjoyed his reatcion! Sylvester, flabbergasted is something worth seeing if you want to life a happy and satisfied life!

Sambodhi. What can I say? I learnt so much about her, everytime I spoke with her. I'd just known her as Sambodhi, a girl of my class in 7th but now, this new and improved version was constantly amazing me with every aspect of her personality. A fiery, no - nosense girl , she held her own against our rowdy guys and soon left me wondering whether she was the same girl I had known but a year ago. She became my sister in arms, we pulled pranks on the boys together and were praned on together. I vented out my frustrations to her and she to me. We talked and talked and discussed songs, movies, T.V shows and argued and gossiped and swooned over cute guys together and talked some more. It was bliss. She definetly changed me somewhere as a person and made me rethink things I took for granted. Wonderful to debate with. She's the only person I can say I've lost so many arguments to and so happily to I might add.

And then there was Ayush a.k.a Shorty. Bindass dude! Our senior, was the funny man of our group, 5 minutes into any coversation with him and I would burst out laughing. Did the most stupid things, exactly the kind of things we wanted! His favourite pastime was sticking his head out of the window to harass bewildered pedestrians. His killer dialouges were 'Mere ghar do kilo bhijwa dena!' , 'Oi! Terese hi baat karra!' and 'Arrey!' There was this shopkeeper dude who Ayush used to torment on a daily basis by saying 'namaste' to him and generally behaving like a mentally unstable person. We used to love it! Oddly enoudh the shopkeeper seemed to like us too, except his wife kept brandishing a broom in our faces and yelling curses at us for troubling her hubby.
Yeah, that made us laugh too. We laughed at every silly thing and that made us laugh some more!

Pratham (class x), christened 'Pinky' by Shorty and Sambodhi was another item. God! He was a paitent man. We used to pretend he was a girl and say stuff to him like, 'arrey pink lipstick suits you better!', 'Don't run so fast, you'll tear your miniskirt!' We used to point at the buffaloes on the highway and exclaim, 'Pinks! Dekh tera family jaara' Shorty toh used to look at a bufflo and shout, 'arrey Pratham, bus ke bahar kya karra?'
He took it all sportively and was a bindaas banda. His jokes were as merciless as ours but we enjoyed them all the same. His laugh was extremely pleasant to hear and was often heard pealing out, contagoious to anyone who heard it.

Prabuddh was a year elder to his sister, I knew him from class VIII, brilliant but occasionally annoying fellow. He probably thinks the same of me, minus the brilliant. Anyways, it did not take me long to figure out this dude was as much of a crackpot as his sister. So yeah, I liked him too.
And then there was Sohit, again class x, basically only Mukundh, Sambodhi and I were 9th graders. You know I had always wished for an elder brother and I ended up with a twin. I guess in a way my prayers were answered by Sohit. He is my brother, friend all rolled into one. I miss him propably the most in our group. I adore the others too no doubt, but this boy will always have a special place in my heart. A fiercely loyal friend, a coke addict, rebel, the most AMAZING dancer and a softie at heart, this buffalo is a friend I wouldn't give up for aything. I knew him through Mitisha, a common friend and initially did not know what to make of him. I didn't need to see his track record to know for sure that he was a trouble maker, that mischievous expression always made you want to check whether he had stuck glue to your chair or poured water on your seat. (Yes, Both of which happened to Sambodhi!) But behind that highly misjudged exterior I found a decent guy, who could shine provided he moved his backside to do so. He was the guy who cheered me up whenever I was low or frustrated by thrusting a coke bottle in my face! Whatever the problem, the answer was Coke! He made sure things didn't get too out of hand when Sambodhi and I fought and basically just kept us all together.
And then there was Raman. A friend, a memory. an important part of who I am today.

Those 45 minuets which I spent, to and from school, were the best parts of my day. I went to school with a smile on my face and returned home smiling. My group of course had a name for me too, LALA (courtsey: Sambodhi). Mitisha told me it sounded like a dog's name. I liked it nevertheless. I tasted my first Red Bull, travelled for the first time in a share auto, understood what it felt like to have coke in my hair and celebrated my victories and mourned my defeats along with these people. My flaps, sweater and yes even my socks were on more than one occasion held hostage by my bus mates who found that kind of thing enjoyable. They used to stare bemusedly when I would differentiate a male dog from a female one at first glance and used to laugh when I used to pine for street dogs with my nose pressed up against the glass. There was this foreigner who used to teach at a school near Pratham's bus stop. I was quite fascinated by her looks and used to fight with the boys to catch a glimpse of her. Pratham named her LISA and the name stuck ever since. They used to hog each others lunches, and basically anything that was edible. I was so proud the day they wolfed down the sandwiches I had made for Work Experience, they know just well, how to push my buttons.
Life has a meaning more profound than just shooting to the top and earning a big buck for yourself. Its about doing things that you don't have the courage to do and aiming for things others deem are out of your reach. The folks in Route No. 18 gave me all what I ever hoped for plus some more. They touched my life and changed it forever.
So this is dedicated to all ma homies Sambu, Sohit, Pratham, Mukundh, Sylvester, Shorty and Prabuddh.  KINDLY STAY IN TOUCH OR I WILL FIND YOU AND MURDER YOU.
Thankyou

To Be Or Not To Be

Life is one interesting, confusing paradox.
There are so many ways you can live it, so many ways you can waste it but ultimately it comes down to this.
It's never going to be yours again.
I love my life. It is not perfect, far from it. But it is mine and that is enough for me. I love my achievements, my failures, the flaws in my personality, the quirks in my nature. I love every blessing that God has showered me with and acknowledge the curses that comes with being human. I love life enough to see the point in letting it go.
Death is unpredictable and unreliable. It may happen in a hundred years or right now. It is not something that I fully understand but then, I don't want to. Why complicate uncomplicated things? Ah! I'm wandering off again, but then I don't feel like sticking to a topic, I'm too distracted for that.
Mortality is not something that set's is quickly for the youth. They live like they'll never die and die lie they've never lived. Sigh. Annoying creatures. They go searching for happiness, something that is found on the INSIDE. Yes I'm one of those morons.

source: http://www.robi-bobi.net/pictures/sunset/sunlight-contrast.jpg
On more than one occasion I have wondered about past and future lives. Not that I believe in this stuff, but I am intrigued by it. The only life I've known is mine. So I wonder, if I had been placed in someonelse's shoes, given someonelse's resources, would I still have turned out to be me? Is it the personality or the situation that make or break a person? I don't have an answer to this  . . . probably will never have. But then something is life are just so eh?

source: http://www.palmer-photoart.com/img/KiwiContrast.jpg

Why do I like blue? And why does she like pink? Why do I like Pizza's while my brother salivates over burgers? Why am drawn to some people, repulsed by others?
Why are animals easier to be around than humans? Why do I do something even when I know its wrong? Why do I shout and then apologize and then fall back into the same rut again?
Why is the world so EXTREME? Extreme poverty or extreme richness? Extreme beauty or extreme ugliness? Extreme joy or extreme pain? Extreme good and extreme bad? What can i say?
It is just so . . . . . . . . . . .

source: http://www.virtualspeechcoach.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/02/contrast-zebra.jpg

The Great Indian Family

Life in a nuclear family is predictable. A dad, a mom, one  . . . two kids max . . .maybe even grandparents, or a pet. Clashing schedules, busy work hours, raging tempers, sissy fits . . . . seems like a plateful ain't it? But eh! yeh kya cheez hai?! Ask anyone . . . after the thrill and confusion of living in a joint family, a family of just four seems too dry, too boring. The masala and nonsense of joint families can never be matched by just four dudes!

Indians have long been known for having strong family ties and it was only decades ago, when we started aping the west and breaking away from joint families to start nests of our own. I, myself coming from a nuclear family, never really understood the allure of a joint one. Don't get me wrong . .my family is pretty close knit . .with my cousins, aunts and uncles staying just a stone's throw away . . . but it just isn't the same thing. I had my first taste of the power of community living only this summer, on a trip to Chennai and Bangalore . . . and let me tell you . . . IT BLEW MY MIND!

source : http://www.mafamily.org/wp-content/uploads/2011/01/happy-family-slide.jpg

It was raining boys. Lemme explain . . . summer is always a favourite for arranging functions . . .with the reason being almost everyone can make it. Tamilians are no exception. Punal or the 'thread wearing' ceremony which is performed for every Brahmin boy when he comes of age was the pick of the season.

I shuttled back and fourth between Chennai, Hyderabad and Bangalore to visit my scattered relatives. Pretty far relations . . let me tell you . . but nobody cares if you're twice removed or related from their side of the family. You are simply welcome! Indians (if I'm not wrong) follow the policy of 'The more the merrier' and true dat! Throughout the summer I had flowers in my hair and sapad ( traditional tamilian cuisine) stuffed down my throat! After two weeks of scarfing down the same thing, my bro and I were yearning for a burger like you wouldn't believe! 

source: http://southindianfoods.in/images/south_indian_meal.jpg

I'm not really good at remembering names and stuff so I pretty much looked like a fool when relatives started pouring in and asking 'Arrey beta? Remember me?!' I would smile uneasily and turn to my parents who would shake their head and step in to do damage control. I mean its not really my fault! Did you know my paternal grandfather had 11 siblings! Family bolo! But still by the end of my Chennai trip I was fairly successful in memorising a few names and quite a few faces. And it felt good! I mean, when people who you've hardly met, tied to you only by blood, come up to you and shower you with love . . .you feel blessed.

I guess such occasions are hard to get, so they make every one count! And even though . . many times I felt stifled and like a test rat in laboratory . .poked and prodded at . . it was worth every minute. Seeing my parents and grandparents joy of meeting up with and the pride in introducing myself and my brother to old acquaintances gave me a warm, content sort of feeling.

source: http://www.likecool.com/Gear/Pic/Cutest%20Rats/Cutest-Rats-7.jpg

And then we were on the move again. We were back in my hometown, the city of my birth,  Bengaluru! Here I was not quite so clueless, for the folks I was here to see were the kind of people you never forget. It was the punal of my second cousin, Aditya.  The only cousin our age which makes him all the more dear to my brother and I. I strolled in feeling confident and smug like a villain twirling his moustache! Ha! I knew what to expect THIS time! And BAM! Again I was proved wrong! I felt like someone had picked me up and placed me in the middle of a play where all the actors had forgotten their lines and none of the props were in place. Not to say I didn't like it . . . I actually did like it . .the confusion, it made me see everyone as my own, no differences or lines drawn  . . . I called all the grandmothers pati there ( Tamil for . .you guessed it! Grandmother!) and on many an occasion . . . I felt like my cousins were my siblings. It was a pleasant feeling indeed.

My cousin, his younger sister, my brother, another cousin and I totally tripped out! Our afternoons were spent playing monopoly and our evenings in the park. Aditya, my brother and I would often steal away for some 'big people' talk leaving the younger ones pouting and we would discuss the topics under the sun! My mom's cousin and his wife (My mama and mami ) were the real stars of the show, they planned the whole program to go off without a hitch . . . providing a real pleasant ride for the rest of us and giving us ample time to socialize and catch up with what was going on with whom.

We visited some old friends too and had a blast. After 5 years of not seeing each other . .it was like we were practically strangers . . . yet dejavu soon got the better of us and soon we were filling gap the years had left behind with our chatter. 

source: http://www.alaska-in-pictures.com/data/media/20/kids-launch-at-the-park_4473.jpg

And the weather just seemed to be mirroring my mood! Cool, pleasant, calm and content. I probably miss the rush for the bathroom early in the mornings and my cousins the most. At the end of the trip I was sad to go indeed. I had discovered a writer in Aditya, a nautanki in his sister Keerthana and surprisingly a team player in myself. On many occasions the most I want is to be left alone . . . yet on this trip, with even no time to breathe I wanted people around me all the time. Maybe it might have gotten old after a while and maybe I might have begun to yearn for my space again. I do know the share of problems that comes from living in joint families but this trip convinced me that all that is a small price to pay for receiving the unconditional love of family.

I don't see us actually living in a joint family in the near future . . .but I am sure of one thing! The next time my parents book a train to Bengaluru or Chennai or wherever . . . I'll be the first one packing my suitcase! 

source: http://whatkatdidnext.files.wordpress.com/2010/09/girlsuitcase3512288106_6420fd5e03_bjpg1.jpg