Long Live Shobha

She is an amazing woman. Who I rate as the one of the sexiest in the country! And this could be an affront for her, for she is more known for her candid writing, outspoken nature, being an iconoclast and everything what is a traditional Indian woman is not. Haven’t thought of her writing greatly, but what she stands for and how she can bravely say that, in a most backward nation when it comes to women, is a lesson for many. Despite our glorification of women as Shakthi, we keep them where the Goddesses of the country are kept. A dark and a dirty enclosure expecting divinity but by staying as a stone! We managed to chase Taslima out of the country because the country is run by pseudo secularists and the government just doesn’t have balls. Given this context and state of affairs, being Shobha De is an achievement unto itself.

And she turned 60 this year! I am sure she would not mind it when I say that the beauty of her self exudes in her looks too. As if, she dares nature against aging, as she had always dared many an opponent in thoughts and her views. And as the old joke goes, she lives with her husband and 6 children, 2 each from previous marriages of her and her husband and 2 of their own.

Long Live Shobha and the tribe you built.

601 not out...

I rarely feel compelled to write about an individual and eulogize about him or her. I comment on things people do, the movies I see, the books I read and the various funny episodes that punctuate my life. But I can’t help but write about this great individual.

People get important in your eyes because of what they achieve or what they stand for. K.Balachander once told that there is no one who is a self made man, because you get made by watching and learning virtues from others, maybe just not in an acknowledged manner. So, unwittingly we pick heroes and role models on whom we shape ourselves. And as I said, they should have achieved something by skill or character. But this is one gentleman whom you will hero worship because of how he did it. As it would be in the rarest of rare case, achieve something by both skill and character.

Anil Kumble is a typical Indian hero of yesteryear vintage. You don’t get many like him who is so good in what he does but only what he does, does the talking and not him. The clichéd phrase of ‘unsung hero’ is just made for him. A tall & gangly bespectacled lad who had the mindset of a paceman, but practiced spin as an art is rare. In fact we used to joke that he picks his wicket on slower ones. He is such a quiet gentleman that his achievements are not noticed so very easily. And suddenly when you wake up that he has got 600 wickets and by the time he finishes he may well be 200 wickets above the nearest Indian is no mean achievement.

But even this one would have gone unnoticed but for the great dignity he displayed as captain in the times of worst crisis. He stood up to his team mate; he uttered the immortal words as if he had a tryst with glory that said everything in a simple sentence, proved that he is a great tactician off the field by withdrawing the complaint against the opponent, pushing the ball into the court of an aggressive bunch of mediocre human beings and on top of it, when no one gave a chance to his team in a fiery wicket, chose an offensive strategy to bat first.

Strangely in this country we need poster boys who can give good sound bytes ( barring Sachin ). And the others we go at length to belittle. No one talks about Anil in the same breath as the famous spin quartet while we are willing to compare Sachin with Sunny. And everyone talked about the doctored pitches in which he was successful. Absolutely crazy, no one talks about the English & Aussie pacemen taking wickets in pitches that are suitable to their craft. But when it came to Anil, it was always a helpful track.

But Anil battles gamely as always. Read somewhere that 601 should have been an Avogadro’s number that appears only in the text books, when he started his career. Now it is against his name. But then there is nothing strange about it.

For Anil, it has always been text books. Be it in his craft or words or how he conducts himself.

As your wicket keepers always shout, Shabhash Anil Bhai Shabhash…

Delirium

Of late, my blogs have increasingly become critical about marriages. And invariably they are the ones that get the maximum responses and I keep joking about how I stir up the dormant emotions in everyone’s mind. This is yet another post about marriage. But it is slightly different.

All the while, I kept seeing marriages through the prism of the married lives of my friends & acquaintances, or sometimes my own and look at all the stuff that goes wrong with the institution of marriage. Most of them tend to agree and some like Sid differ. In this entire melee, I completely stopped thinking about the great feeling it can create. Mostly, in the bunch of guys we are, if someone says that he is getting married, we feel sorry for him and start cracking the typical jokes. Not once we had jumped in joy about the news.

Today was such a day. But before that listen to this story! There is this girl. Who happens to the cutest you have seen in a long time and an absolute pet to the bunch of rowdies that we are. Surprisingly, all of us took such a liking towards her, that she became that kid sister for us. She worked with us. And most times guys were afraid of her questions than their boss’s. She can create terror in the mind and absolutely nonchalant about the childish behavior of many of us. And she was a very trustworthy soul that each one of us sometime or other would have confided things that we would probably be ashamed to confess to others. She never had been judgmental about any of us and maybe saw us as grownup kids. In effect she was the best friend each one of us could have when we were so to each other in the gang.

And there is this kid guy in the gang. Each one of us is called by a relationship and his was that of a kid brother. To all of us! And the pastime of the bunch is to tease him to tears. He is such a sport that he never takes anything personally and laughs for the jokes cracked at his expense. Anything and everything there will be some wisecrack at that guy. And there is no mercy shown or indecency spared. The whole party gets livelier and livelier when the jokes start flowing on his account.

Then we all split from the workplace. In a gap of around 2 months, none of us worked in the old place and by some good grace, a few of us landed in the same place, but the ties were so strong that, one cannot see beyond this gang. The loyalty was very clear and there was no inclination and energy to find new friends, as we were invariably in touch with each other.

The girl works in the office as two of us. And she walks in today to tell me that she is getting married. Normally I would have taken such news calmly and with some close friends laugh at him and say why on earth he would fall into such a trap. But with her, it was different. All of us wanted her to get married and our only worry was that she should find the right guy. And then she also tells there is another good news, which is the news of the kid brother also getting married. Life can’t throw such surprises in the same day. And then she tells me they are marrying each other. Give me something that can be better than this. Impossible! Two of the people whom you loved so much and they decided to get married and what else can be better?

This created a laugh riot in the gang through a teleconference and as usual his legs were pulled and condolence messages poured for that girl. But each of us knew that we were so proud of our friend, or rather friends and we were laughing our guts out because that is the only and the strongest emotion we could show. But there was happiness in everybody’s voice and huge pride in his voice particularly.

If there is one marriage I want to last for eons filled with smiles and happiness every second, this would be that. Because it happens between two of the best people and they deserve nothing lesser.

But suddenly he needs to be respected more now, lest we get censured by her. Ellam neram!!

Happy B'Day Babies

Happy Birthday babies.... have a blast. for what you are, there is nothing but greatest happiness that awaits you all in life. :)

February 14th

February 14th is a big day for me. Not because it’s Valentine’s Day (not withstanding the fact that I am a die-hard romantic). It’s big because, I know at least 5 persons who celebrate a birthday on that day. And by sheer coincidence, they are all very special people to me.

It is a big day at home firstly, because my wife and 2nd daughter are amongst that 5 people I talked about. Maybe, it all started with my wife, a Feb 14th girl getting into my life. Come to think of it, she has shared almost all my adult life. I knew her when I was all of 19 years and I can confidently say that, I should have been an adult only about 2 years by then. So, when I am 41, it appears to me that she has been around all my life practically. We kinda grew up together. All our tastes, knowledge, foolishness, interests, desires, anger, disappointments, recoveries,have been always the same. We most of the times have a World War repeat at home, only to call each other in the next minute to say sorry and laugh at our own craziness. There could be a lot of people in your life, many of them could have wished you well, but sometimes go very angry with you that they just don’t care what happens to you and just ignore you out of sheer compulsion or what it warrants then. There are only a few who would always mean well and think only about your good.In mine I can only tell there are two. One is she and another is a friend of mine named Raja, true to his name, with a King’s heart.

Next in the list of the B’ Day babies is my daughter. In fact she is my life’s meaning in a way. She made me a theist, she made me kinder, she makes me proud every moment, she is what all I am today in a way, because she gave me the biggest scope in life. To show love, and understand that it is never about what you do but what you get. I have never been hesitant to talk about her being an adopted kid. Not because I wanted people to know what we have done, but more because it gives me the greatest opportunity in life to propagate the message of love. About the fact that love is a great multiplier and when you just think you gave, you always receive in exponential proportions. I probably would never stop talking about her ever, and since they say your life story is always the last you write, I should stop now. As these two girls with my first one, make what my life is and what it is about.

The third in the list is a dearest friend of mine who could have well been my daughter in another life. She is younger to me by 14 years and I could never see her though at any time. Either she was 12 years like my elder one, or an equal with whom I can share my deepest thoughts. Would have never shown more anger and love at someone apart from my wife!! She was always a solace, either as a punching bag or as this statesman belying her age. She would stay as a source of strength always in my life irrespective of how often or how rarely we communicate to each other. And the fact that she remains a daughter in this life too..

Fourth is an amazing lady. The sweetest I have ever seen with a definite poise about her. She was a wife of my friend(was because he is no more). I have never seen a loveliest pair and sweeter sound than his ‘hah kutta, hah honey’ when he picks her call. They weren’t destined to be together for long. And the way she handled him while he was there and handles herself while he isn’t there is a lesson in life for anyone. It was her dad who saidthat, 'this is the time you want to curse God for being so cruel but this is the test He keeps for you to know how strong you are'. I have never forgiven God for this cruelty whatever test He may have designed. It was just not on. But she, a marvel of a person and someone who can keep coming back in your mind to remind that all is not yet lost, when it seems to be so.

The last is my cousin, a brave girl on her own right. At 27, with pretty old parents, first staying 3000 miles away from home to work on empowering rural women and now at the States doing her doctorate, with a single minded devotion about what she does.

If I need to draw a parallel to all these girls, I see a common denominator it is their self-confidence. Why else, they are going to have me as husband, dad, brother and friend!!!! :))

Hair & the idea of you!

I used to have 3 different hairstyles when I was young, between one visit to the saloon and the other.

First is when, the folks drag you to the barber and ensure that justice is done to the money paid. You come out almost like a criminal whose head is shaved completely. Second could be the normal hairstyle, where hair grows to the right extent and the third depends on your luck. About how much you can dodge the people and postpone the visit for a hair-cut.

The first decision I ever took when I started earning was that, I will cut my hair right in frequent intervals and keep having the same style. Alas, the job ensured that. A stint in a carbon-infested rubber factory meant that I quit the job with very little hair in head. So, no big hassles about three different styles. It was one all the way. Bald!!

To think of it, somehow hairstyles have been a symbol of rebelliousness always. Anyone who is non-conforming will grow hair. The Hippies & Beats! Long Hair symbolized a rejection of ‘straight’ culture and the wearer in a very easy way demonstrated the allegiance of alternative culture.

I wonder why in India also it is seen the same way. There are a few cultures which have not scoffed down upon long hairs. The Rastafarians and I would add Indian also to that list. All your sages & gurus were long haired. The doctrines of Christianity in Western Cultures give us a partial explanation. St. Paul wasn’t approving at all!!!

Now also, in a relatively open generation, whenever we see a male wearing long hair, we tend to think he is a non-conformist. Mostly an ad agency guy!! All creative guys assume this posture.

Come to think of it, this is a painless way of showing some rebelliousness. Wish I could do it. With me, the mind wills the hair rebels. It would not grow!!!!

My Mother

My mother left for hometown after a 3-month trip to Chennai, albeit in the most bearable of the times in the hot city. Not that she goes to cooler climes. This piece is not about that. It’s about the time she was here.

I keep asking myself this question every time, whether I do justice whenever she is here. There are obvious discomforts while she is around. She is very orthodox and that means what you think is normal behaviour is absolutely a crime. Starting from wiping the floor you sat and ate; well that’s not wrong, till the point cow-dung is insisted to be used. The only cows I know of this metro is of a different kind. Well that’s for starters, there are many such violations of her rules and I feel I am atleast a few hundred generations away. The rituals that I used to perform every month to remember my father’s death, does not hold any particular reverence to me now and I can see her disappointment at the seemingly flagrant affront to her husband, not withstanding the fact that I am just like her husband in every bit of me, starting from dead finger nails. The fact that I swear by him to run my life after his and there is not a day I have ate a morsel alone, just like him does not matter as much as the wonderful Sanskrit words I need to utter every month.

Ok that explains the difficulty I have while she is around. But these are minor ones because I don’t give up on what I believe as much as her and despite disappointing her I never give into what she wants. I can tell one thing for sure though. She is extremely proud of me and what I am and what I stand for. That she is of course about all the 8 of us. But, me, a special guy, after all I am the last and was made when she was forty. And like her husband, a totally unflustered character who never worried about the future. An innocuous explanation of my dad for having so many kids was a Tamil adage. ‘Maram Vachavan Thanni Oothayama Povan?’. It means that ‘Would a guy who planted a tree, wont water them?’ He was referring to God though and to his credit he himself watered enough and more.

Whenever she is there with me, I keep thinking about why this lady can’t enjoy all the great stuff in life rather than worrying about the silly stuff that does not happen. For example, an adhoc purchase of 2 sari’s costing 4K is not an everyday thing for her, but she was more worried about not getting the matching blouse. She has gone through pain, had 10 children in all, from a rich family, became middle class and now she is come a full circle with all her kids freaking out. But there is something she misses, and I don’t know what it is. If I did, I would get her that.

I never know whether I have told her that I love her, shown in actions many times, never told her once though. We all make the mistake, don’t we??

I was never the one who made the love so very obvious. In fact I used to ask her, how come you could love me the same when I am the 10th, would you not get tired? And for a major part of my life I believed that it was my eldest sister who was my mother and that suited me too. It was only when she got married and left home when I was 5, I started looking at my mother and am sure I was a pain all through. It was my sister who was a pet, the one who would look at mom’s face all through when we sit in a movie. But no one knows that all of us do that. We all always watch our parents. There is more in their face than any movie or life story can ever say. I don’t know whether my kids do that now.

I grew up with the belief that she won’t live long; they didn’t those days. So, in the middle of the night sometimes I used to wake up and see whether she is still breathing and if she did, slept peacefully then onwards.

And now, when every time she leaves, I keep thinking, is this is the last I see of her alive. But these days, its just not about her, I get an odd feeling that it could be either her or me.

Friendship

Once again, back to a translation .... Well not exactly a perfect translation. Maybe we will call plagriased.

Friendship

Gulping food in haste
Catching a crowded bus

Hang on the footboard
Rush to the office

Escaping the growl of the boss and
Pestering of the colleagues

Clarifying a million doubts
For a buxom typist

And slide into the seat
To push pencil .... and

Lunchtime arrived

When I came close to the window
Opened the Lunchbox

Like always, peeped in the Baby squirrel.


The original is fairly old , about 2 decades maybe, wish the poet saw life today. These all are still there, but ... Only no space for the baby squirrel to peep in ...

Her

This was written by me on 08th May 1989. I was 24 , guess good enough to fall in love and write stuff like this. Looks very amateurish now, but I dont have the heart to infuse my intelligence and vocabulary on this now. That wld be unfair. Really, really unfair.

Young age and the ignorance has its own charm and I dont feel one bit ashamed about chasing the butterflies or the ice cream vendor. About this ofcourse I am more than proud.

HER

Hardly ever I've felt like this
This extra phenyl ethyl amine

Someone kisses me in the earlobes I feel
Sending shock waves all through

The most serious offence in my dictionary
Gets a pardon as a verdict

And wasting a minute without thinking about her
Makes the newer offence

Thousand stars smile at me
For only celestial bodies are not envious about me

Relativity is understood now
Walking with her for a while
Is magnified a million times, and
Talks with my boss sounds poetic

Yet God, please freeze them all
Freeze time too

Let relativity be reality

I am looking at the mirror at midnight
Is that what is falling in love
A poetic term for getting schizophrenic

But no one told me that
It will be so pleasant

Will there really be that HER in my life ?