Stuck for what to say...

SO many small small things happened last week.. but am unable to pin point and write something abt as they were not really big events... nothing much happens when u r sitting idle at home.. but here is a jist...

1. Thank you...thats what my boss said when i agreed to do an assignment for him during my long holiday... but i should have been the one saying it.. after all i am going to get good money at the end of the day...

2. Bleed Blue... too much of cricket.. i enjoyed the world cup... saw every match Team India played.. but IPL??? so soon after the WC... i am sick of it.. and yes the Rs.1Crore per head award to WC team highlighted the irony of poverty in India once again.. i hated that...

3. Indigo.. felt proud to have cast my vote.. better than any shade of nail polish ever worn.. my fore finger looks royal these days.. i was clueless whom to vote for.. did not even know who the candidates were.. waited an whole hour to exercise my franchise and it was worth it..

4.Calories.. something that i have become very conscious abt these days.. trying to stay withing the limits of my 1200 C strict chart.. not very difficult to maintain.. and seems like a very healthy way to be..

5. Sleep.. that always seems to appeal when i start to read the Agatha Christie book i had borrowed..reminds me of good old days when i used to study for exams..the books used to always bring deep sleep.. same effect... came to know that this one was a deviation from her usual style... well thank you for the sweet dreams..

Sunday actually is the begining of a new week.. looking forward to this one...

Serial BP...

I have a very normal level of Blood Pressure.. but then it rises and peaks between 8pm to 10pm on all weekdays... and i have no choice.. "Why LORD WHY????", I may question, but the answer never arrives... what arrives is the next serial...

I HATE SERIALS...

After all the whole days slogging and the tiring travel..end of the day u wish to relax.. but then u have to worry whether SELVAM will get money for sister's wedding.. Whether GANGA's problem with her husband will solve.. Whether TULASI will have the sense to see CHARU's real character.. Whether Chellama's twin will be born safely...

Kodumai... On one such days i believe my heart is going to burst...

I HATE SERIALS...

but i am forced to watch.. 3rd degree torture.. and if u listen to even a single dialogue, you would feel like pulling your hair out for the Stupidity of it all..

I end with a prayer.. "LORD SAVE ME FROM SERIALS"

Happened to see Neeya Naana discussion today and felt like writing this...

My Article Days...

Just read a blog of a friend from where i had done my articles and reading hers let me on to think about the fun side of my article days...

I never attended regular college.. so my article days and article friends are my one and only college memories and i never missed an actual campus experience becos of them..

My life as an article and as a paid assistant thereafter spanned a period of 4 years... July 2002 to Dec 2006... rich expeience.. had met so many people in that time.. my peers.. seniors and almost 3 batches of juniors...

It was purely by chance i had joined SNB.. I was blank as to where to join and heard coaching classes head recommend some student SNB's name.. cos there would be a lot of TRAVEL... That word sounded like magically spoken for me and i hopped in on the opportunity and applied.. Balki had interviewed me and i was selected... Nandu had asked if I'd be ok with meat.. Hell yeah if i am going to be traveling.. there started my journey...or at least not after a whole 9 months in the same audit...

My first outstation audit was Varkala.. beautiful locale.. had a Cold Coffee shake every day... and gained 5kilos in 15days...by the end of the audit my team lead wanted to throw me off the train... yeah he hated me so... i did do MANY newbie mistakes... but he grew rather impressed after i made a presentation at a training programe and displayed in depth knowledge of the work i had done... I was unofficial bible to reliance audit then..

My most memorable audits thereafter were CALICUT..been there 3 consecutive years.. the first trip me n my friend salted our team leads coffee... and we and few other articles in audits in Cochin, planned and made a visit to Kumarakoam... a once in a lifetime vacation.. banana boat rides and fresh toddy for the drunks and live crabs for the meat eaters..

The next time to Calicut was a team of 4.. we had a WHALE of a time.. playing.. pranks mostly.. and buying KARUVADU for a friend.. visit to Wayanadu...throwing water balloons... the best ever... we also ended up missing our return journey and travelled in without... thats an interesting story altogether.. Three of us from that team headed to another audit where the office seemed like it was underground.. left to work in a conference room by ourselves... we could only thank the gods that they did not have cameras and mikes in there... FUN FUN FUN all the way and a report with some decent points in it...

The 3rd visit was with Sangeetha, whose blog inspired to write this.. as the team leader.. i delegated all my work.. and did the royal OB.. it was fun.. (for me mostly).. visited Guruvayoor.. it was a wonderful experience.. and got one ladoo maari audit point and opathified with that...

There was also one memorable trip to Ooty and Connoor in the peak of Dec winter.. 2004.. the year when Tsunami hit.. The accounts office was warm and cosy.. and the walks to our rooms thereafter BONE CHILLING.. the wooden floors of the dining hall would creak each time u walk.. a beautiful British experience.. Oh ya we stayed in a makeshift room in the Kids play room with loads of toys...

Coorg..another beautiful experience...i had oodles of fun.. it was still very early in my artciles..feb 2004.. being young, reckless, carefree and loud... we were a total riot me n suganya.. everyone else in the 6member team were entertained by our antis thoroughly.. and yes friends for life...

its tough to put 4 amazing years into few lines.. my article days were spread with fun.. fun.. travel... exams.. exam leave... and yes a little bit of WORK..

the memories are so vivid.. and the years that have passed since seem to have vanished in thin air.. btw my connection with SNB still continues.. but then this chapter is based out of Bangalore... been there since Sep'09... More memories in the making..

Patience and Courage...

The size of the audience was huge and the speaker was yet to arrive. He was a noted spiritual guru and the people in the hall were all waiting to hear his words of wisdom. With all seats taken, the late comers had to be satisfied with standing up against the walls and many others had to stand out-side in the open braving the morning sun.

He was late.

The hours passed by and still there was no sign of him. The crowd started moving. Slowly people started moving out, mumbling unrecognisable words. By noon the crowd had dwindled to half. Only time passed and the spiritual guru was nowhere to be seen.

The sun had set and it was almost 9 o'clock. That is when a Drunk stumbled into the hall. Screaming few obscenities, he moved towards the dias. He flirted with the ladies in the front rows and overcome with intoxication, fell to the ground.

The remaining crowd too left. A handful few, faithfully waited for the guru to turn up.

The drunkard now straightened himself up. With no sign of liquor in his blood, he walked briskly to the mike. It was the spiritual guru himself.

He addressed the now seated group and said "The two hardest tests on the spiritual road are the patience to wait for the right moment and the courage not to be disappointed with what we encounter."

(By Paulo Coehlo in Veronika decides to Die)

In every step in life, from the day i read these words i have understood and applied them consciously... and i know that this is one lesson for life

Dreams...

Her eyes were moving fast as she lay sprawled on her bed dreaming. The linen was soft, columns in olive running up and down, white vines twisted around and lilac blossoms opening here and there. The golden rays of the morning sun were slowly filling the room through the sheer curtained windows. The lights reflected a golden yellow on the big mirror that stood at the opposite end and lit up the room with tender care. The calm reflected off the blue green walls and in the centre of it all lay the figure, asleep yet restless and dreaming.

Ever since Pooja had moved into her new apartment she had been blessed with a slew of dreams. Every morning, she would wake from some crazy dream or the other and she would lay awake wondering what they meant. Though they were always pleasant, she would always end up feeling lonely at the end of them. She had selected the flat for the panoramic view, the peace and calm it promised and the guarantee that she would be able to enjoy it all alone. Work had made her move out of her parents' home five years ago and to her own surprise she adapted to her independent life very soon. Taking care of herself, cooking, bills and laundry gave her the fulfillment and the same reflected in the confidence with which she moved ahead at work. Till date she never had to regret any of her choices and knew well that she had not missed anything that was worth her life. She had never felt lonely in life before and that recurring feeling now disturbed her.

The packing and shifting had been tiring and the dreams were making her feel worse, so she decided to take a break and head home. She hoped that the change would help her relax.

Home had not changed much since she had left, except for her room that looked a little deserted despite being spotless. She had surprised her parents by her sudden arrival, and they were left wondering why she had turned up at their doorstep after having invited them over for a stay at her new flat. They knew her well enough to not point out the obvious and chose to just display the joy of having her at home again.

Home had never appealed to her this much ever before, it surprised her as to how much she had missed it. Slowly she unwound in the magic of her sacred space, her now antique dressing table, her closet still carrying some of her favourite clothes and the little music player with some of the CDs she had left behind. It felt like rewind, somehow that felt strange, strange because she had visited home many times since moving and this was the first time she had felt this desperation to return home.

She could work from home, that was a boon. Her boss and co-workers were some of her closest friends and they would stretch to any limits to accommodate her. With a reduced work load and a lot of free time, all she wanted to do was unwind. She sat out on the balcony and wondered what was so special here. Both were busy cities, Chennai and Bangalore, not very different, maybe Bangalore was more young and hip, she had a lot of company there and could do the very same things she did here, sometimes even more and better. Yet she wondered.

The lazy afternoons dragged her to her closet, she hadn't touched her old stuff since ages and suddenly for lack of anything else felt the curiosity to explore its treasures. The things you could accumulate during your lifetime amused her, well not a lifetime but definitely a lot had been accumulated in the 20 odd years she had spent collecting them. Faded memories resurfaced as she flipped through her college autographs and school group pictures. Some old clippings from papers of her favourite stars, few peacock feathers, old pencils gifted by her grandfather that she had preserved in his memory. Nostalgia flooded over her. Then she shifted her gaze to the letters.

It had seemed to be a fun thing that time, writing letters to yourself. She had written a couple of them before feeling foolish and stashing them away. But reading them now didn't feel that foolish. There was some strange enthusiasm in those letters that she felt were now somewhere lost in her. Obviously there is a difference between being a carefree adolescent and a mature adult. Cutting short her self evaluation she continued her reading, the letters were long, detailing the few major things that had happened, the people who very nice and the ones who had to mend their ways, the few crazy things that she had done and dreams.

Dreams, she recollected, strangely the frequency had reduced since she had come home. Dreams, she read those letters again, there were many. She realised that they were the things she had wanted to do. The little doodles and sketches at the bottom of the letters, she had wanted to be a painter, she had also wanted to be a singer, a poet, a writer and even a dancer. The evidence of her ambitions lay scattered in her now messy treasure box. A little mental rewind helped her remember that she had been fairly good at them, she in fact tried each and every one of them satisfactorily. Feeling a little proud, she collected her artifacts and packed the box again.

That evening she spent her time piecing together the puzzle that had been her favourite all those years back and still continued to engross her as much. Images of her summer holidays with her friends playing hopscotch, hide and seek, snake and ladder, business relayed on her mind. 'Pleasant memories', she recalled. The stroll through her quiet neighbourhood, the long chats with her parents, hot samosas in the evening, her display of culinary expertise, marathon television, a family visit to the temple and all those small things she had been familiar while growing up, filled her days and nights.

Her generous friends were missing her now, her benevolent boss was becoming impatient, work was work. She had known all along that this was only a holiday and cannot be her daily way of life, after all she had chosen her line of work. The holiday had rejuvenated her and she had never realised that she had needed one.

The time had come to return to routine or life as it had been. But then she realised, life had been the same all along, only she had changed. She had forgotten the simple things in life that were a part of her. She had forgotten that 'growing up' is a continuous process and doesn't mean leaving everything and moving on. Rather it is treasuring your experiences inside like in her little treasure box. They would always be with her.

The olive bed welcomed her, and she felt happy to curl up into its warmth. She had missed her soft bed, the sheer curtains, the blue green walls and everything about her new flat. The sun was yet to set, but she was already fast asleep and everything was now filled in peace.

Golden rays filled the room, the figure was still sprawled across in bed, the eyes were moving rapidly, she was dreaming again. This time she looked peaceful, a smile on her lips, a serenity prevailed on her face. She slowly opened her eyes to the yellow rays, he had been talking to her, eye to eye, something sweet, something innocent, something that had her blushing and her heart racing. With dream filled eyes she planted her feet to the ground, she liked this feeling, awaking to the feel of LOVE.

Sick of Romance...

Since I am enjoying a long leave and have a lot of time on hands, i decided to just do some reading. The unending book supply from a nearby library kept feeding my hunger.

I prefer reading the stories that offer a bit of mystery/suspense in them. Not too emotional and not too scary. I enjoy a good mystery. I also enjoy a Love story here and there, but again I don't want something too emotional and too often.

The category of books i avoid are the serious ones, cause i am looking for some entertainment here. And the ones i wished i had avoided were the Romantic Suspense Genre. I agree that the suspense gives me a kick, but the romance?

I had recently picked an author's book and found it contained 4 stories in them. I should have realised it earlier, but it was too late. They were Mills and Boons style. Heavily loaded with romance and lightly sprinkled with suspense. It was not repulsive but plain repetitive. And when i was finished with it, i swore never to read anything like that for a long time, it had been like an overdose.

I had picked a few books of Sandra Brown and Nicholas Sparks, different writing styles. While reading Sandra Brown, the promise for a good thriller suspense is well fulfilled. It contains a healthy dose of romance in it that keeps the story moving. The intelligent and hurt heroine who gets wooed by the perfect brooding stranger of a hero appealed to my senses. Surely i feel like i want to read more of her works.

On the other hand, Mr.Sparks leaves you with a lasting impression that goes beyond the book itself. His style leaves you with the impression that you have just seen a die hard Romantic classic, his narration gives a cinematic experience. My favourite would be "Message in a Bottle". It tugged the strings of my heart and brought tears to my eyes. Definitely worth a read.

As a final note, I had earlier blogged my need to read "Veronika decides to die". I managed to buy the book but could never bring myself to read it. It stayed idle in my shelf for over 8months. Finally when i read it, i realised that I had found it at the most apt moment of my life. It was more than a novel as the words in it had deeper meaning and a lot more to understand from. More about it later.

It was a Season!!

I used to blog crazily, writing many stories and less of any kind of blogs. And then everything stopped.

I used to read regularly, books that i had mentioned of. And that too stopped. Ironically after I purchased the book that i much longed for.

What happened? Good question, for which i am left wondering for an answer. Guess Big Boss 4 kept me occupied. But there was something that had caught my fancy and kept me hooked all through right from October.

Don't wonder too much, it is my brand new IPOD.

Yeah!!! i celebrated seeing that magnificent piece of technology once i got it out of the gift wrap. It was a birthday present from the sister. Though not very IT savy, i just loved such stuff and was just too happy to be the proud owner of one.

The ipod kept me busy in many ways. Not just with me meddling with it, but also struggling with it. We never read manuals, do we? Well i didn't and slowly explored the gizmo in my hand. Putting together the songs on the play list was one task and once achieved had fun all throughout. Then came the headache, VIDEOS.

The idea of seeing a movie on the go was so high, that i desperately wanted to see them on my ipod. But try as i might it just wouldn't recognise videos. After so many googles i managed to solve the problem and successfuly watched a film.

But all this sweetness was short lived. It was an iOS update that i got a prompt for. I immediately okay-ed it. The downloading hours were long and finally it was done. But now it was Updating time.Updating and Restoring my IPOD. Update was successful and what about Restore?That was the villian in my story. My ipod went dead.

I struggled to set it right and read all the MANUALS too. Finally i decided to get help, from their customer support line.

I had recently seen a funny call centre video and i almost cracked up laughing when a "Harold" answered my call. It was an american accent with an Indian touch. As a voice kept laughing inside my head, the dead ipod brought back sanity. Finally after explaining all that i had done to him, he gave me the solution. "Dump your laptop and try using a desktop"

Well it did work (an 8hour mission) and now my ipod is hale and healthy. As i listen to songs on it everyday, or play games or read my e-books, i only wonder and dread about the next iOS update and how i would live through another such harrowing experience.

The Walls of This House...

Sindu liked doing things on her own and had always asked for help only as a last resort. With that resolve backing her, she could not bring herself to ask help to set right her new home. It had been a quick decision that left no time to catch a breath. A plum offer from the company landed on her doorstep a day after her interview. Swiftly a plan of action of shifting to a new city was made. The head rush in planning all these things in a short time gave her a high that she enjoyed thoroughly. But today while unpacking, she slowly began to realize that fatigue is a big dampener of spirits. As she picked up her phone to call home, she really wished that her mom had been nearby making her hot crisp dosas.

With only half work done, she slumped on the mattress, now unfurled and quickly drifted off to sleep without realizing that all lights were still on. It was close to 4am, she was breathing hard, a strange feeling, it was not a dream but still the uneasiness did not seem to cease, she struggled to break free and open her eyes. When she opened her eyes, it was well past 8o’clock. She figured that she had been too stressed out for a peaceful night. Breakfast at a hotel nearby and the strong coffee prepared her for further unpacking blues.

The house had been easy to find, all she had to do was to dial for a real estate agent (broker) in that area and the lease agreement was ready for signature as soon as she arrived. She had boiled milk as is customary once u enter a new house and shared the same with her neighbours. A neat way of getting to know people around you, she felt. A very chatty neighbor, Prema aunty had filled her in all about the residents in the neighbourhood. The juiciest bit was about the couple who had previously rented her house. It seemed the wife was having an extra-marital affair and the husband had grown suspicious. One fine day the lady eloped with her lover and the husband vacated the house immediately to get over the humiliation.

Strange, she felt, as she walked through her house. She pictured the woman lovingly sending off her husband to work and then immediately getting ready for her clandestine lover. The walls seemed to know so much and still remain so quiet, something that Prema aunty would never do.

That night the strange feeling returned, this time she felt trapped behind the walls. Staying at home all day was taking its toll, she thought. She stepped out for her shopping and after complete shopping exhaustion she returned back home. Unpacking was nearly done and what remained was to put away her books. It was to be in a cupboard, the only piece of furniture left behind by the previous tenants. As she started cleaning the wooden furniture a brown dossier caught her eye. In the bottom draw, hidden away like a secret document, the file lay abandoned. Very genuinely she opened it up to know if she could trace the owner, but then some pictures fell down from them.

The young lady in the picture was talking to someone, the background a busy traffic scene. The next picture was similar, she was in a car and seated next to her was a man and the next was of her dining at some restaurant. She suddenly got a sense of what was coming ahead and despite being invasive of someone’s privacy she looked into the sheets of paper it held. As she had guessed it was a detective agency’s report on the ‘Cheating wife’. It turned out that there seemed to be nothing to indicate that an affair was on, the lady had genuinely met people during normal course of her work and none of them seemed to constitute what one would call as an affair. The clandestine lover did not exist.

This night was destined for dreams, dreams about the woman whose husband suspected her. The discomfort returned as her dream continued in which the husband and wife were arguing. He was waving the brown file at her and screaming something that she couldn’t understand clearly. Suddenly he was dressed like superman and held the wooden cupboard above his head and looked at her with angry, demented eyes.

A new day had dawned and she had to visit her HR that day. She had abandoned the book-shelving operation earlier and resumed to do that in the time that remained at hand. The dream replayed itself in her mind and the sight of the airborne cupboard gave her a shiver. It was something she had to try now, whether she could lift it up or atleast make it move an inch. It was going to be a test of her might and after much pushing and nudging the stubborn cupboard finally gave way. But what it revealed startled her, a hidden door.

The ambulance siren was louder than the police van’s. The mystery door had prompted her call for help. As all the people crowded her doorway, Prema aunty rushed over with excitement written all over her face. She froze still as she saw the panicked look on Sindu’s face and the nearly lifeless body on the stretcher. A young woman, starved and dehydrated, discovered barely alive in the room behind the door.

The entire story emerged, the over suspicious husband, not convinced even by the detective’s report, plotted a punishment for his wife. One fine day, he tied her up and shut her in the little store room and blocked the door with his favourite furniture and made away saying that she had eloped.

As the dust settled on the day, Sindhu could only wonder how it had all come to be. She had held the hand of the figure she had discovered and felt a knowing grip, she felt as if the lady had whispered “thank you” into her ears. She tried to figure out her strange dreams and lay wondering how she rightly moved the cupboard and managed to rescue a woman abandoned there for almost 3weeks.

That night she dreamt of herself lying asleep. She saw the cupboard, the hidden door and then the woman behind it. Her lips were moving like she was chanting something. She could hear the words now "Help me". Suddenly her sleeping figure started dreaming and the strange uneasiness set in to her again. But this time it felt distant and unconnected, like it was happening only in the dream.

After a restless night she knew she had to visit the woman at the hospital for some consolation. Standing close to the bed, she held the frail hand and just watched. The fingers closed around her hand slowly and the woman opened her eyes. She expected her to say something and maybe clear all her doubts. Just then the woman, with a frail smile, said to her “I knew you would find me”.

Zoro and Moro....

Moro: Hey Zoro what r u doing??
Zoro: Finding out which is East.

M: what for?
Z: need to face east for combing my hair dude!

M: Right!! but why??
Z: Source of Light

M: what abt that tube light there????


M: So where are you going?
Z; C'mon u know u shudn't ask that when i am going out.

M: Hey are u little red riding hood and me a wolf???


M: Aaaaachooo!!!
Z: Shit man... did u do that on purpose? I cant leave now without a drink of water!!

M: Hey I am one who sneezed...and i need some water cos my heart stopped for a split second.

a little while later

M: Hey Zoro u back so fast..what happened??
Z: totally jinxed day dude... a black cat crossed my path..

M: So????
Z: had to turn back home...

M: Zoro what would you do if a black panther had crossed your path??
Z: Run back home as fast as possible.

M: Right so you sure it was only a cat and not a panther?

He is called ME...

I am no elder, but i am no younger. Recently i met a nephew of mine and being a 6 year old he was being typical of his age.

I was meeting him for the first time, at least after he has grown up and because of lack of familiarity he was shy to talk. But that apart the attention and respect he displayed that day was exemplary.

With pun intended i have to say, he Prostrated in front of the TV and was all ears and eyes to the Computer games he was playing.

But he was a cute one at it, and I have no complaints. But just felt i had to joke about it some place and just make note of the priorities when you are a kid. Even I was like that.

Oh ya, I was treated to a very warm hug and a very sweet "Thank you very much" at the end of the day. That sealed the deal fair and square.

And yes according to him, his teacher calls him ME. And he was just kidding.

The Garfield Way!!!

More on Italian cuisine...

The style of cooking on which i have no clue about. Ans here we head to a new restaurant in Jayanagar, Bangalore that serves Indian and Italian delicacies. I decided to try Italian once again but the menu made my head spin.

I had no idea what the difference was between macaroni and pasta and why is spaghetti not called noodles. So I ask for a suggestion and the name Lasagna pops up.

For all those who have read Garfield, Lasagna is his staple food and that bit of familiarity helped me make my choice. Layers of lasagna filled with vegetables in between.

In the meanwhile the Indian food had been delivered. It was yummy too, i tasted the curries actually. And with the long wait coming to an end, the Lasagna was served. The waiter asked "Do you want me to cut it?" and half confused and half surprised i asked him to do so. Cause when you don't know, you let the other person lead.

So i got down to it with my fork. It was delicious. Layers of Lasagna with vegetables in between. Chili flakes, Cheese and lots of cheese. And the best of all, BROCCOLI.

I have heard a lot about broccoli, on TV of course, and i lived to realise the true horror of it. The strong taste it has nearly knocked me off. Surely eating broccoli is a punishment for kids world over.

It was supposed to be a meal for one, but then the heavy cheese made me full even when i was not even past half the piece served. It tasted very good, but then it was too much for me. Finally i gave up and put down my cutlery, defeated and tired.

The next morning i had a hangover of sorts, cause i was sleepier than usual.

In the end I still would recommend Lasagna for all. But just be sure to ensure that some 2-3 of you are hogging at it and that you can handle broccoli.

Oh by the way the restaurant is JALPAAN.

A Lethal Drop...

No its not about poison... but this drop is even worse... its the verb... drop... Drop of the phone....

so here i am... a typical mobile user... who sometimes suffers from the butter fingers syndrome... that means.. everything slips out of your hands... that includes your precious cell phone....

my previous phone had taken the beating pretty bad... it had fallen from my hands on various occasions... yet it bore on patiently..... i had dropped at least once each month for the 28 odd months that i had used it....

it soon showed signs of the damage when it failed to recognise the SIM card for an entire day... then one day the back light failed.. but on both occasions it returned to normal without any intervention...

the lethal drop happened... few weeks back... i dropped it when getting out of the auto.... and it was gone forever.... chivalry no longer exists... the auto driver was quicker than me in realising that i had left my phone in the auto....

why this post now? that incident was two weeks old... shopping was the best healer of the wound and i immediately shopped for the next phone i would use....

this post comes now... for yesterday.. was the first time i dropped my new phone.... unlike one time where my previous phone slipped out even the sim card... i only managed to get the phone into 3 parts.... luckily no permanent damage...

i hope i don't carry on with the trend of dropping the phone that often... the dread of losing it in an auto still exists... for now i am enjoying my time with it...

long live mobile phones and prayers that i don't lose it....

Baby in the cradle..

It was her first pregnancy. And looking at her face it was obvious that it had been a mistake. The face of a 17 year old but pregnant and single. A failed love affair which had left her with a broken heart and a baby in the way.

The pregnancy had reached point of no return before she had the guts to tell her parents and that left her with the little choice in life. The solution they sought was simple. Move away to a foreign country to avoid the shame, wait for the delivery and give away the baby soon after. Life would never be the same. But then someone would adopt the child and their daughter can move on and she can live a life that her society would approve of. The chapter was closed.

Savithri held her latest pregnancy test in her hand. The look on her face said it all; it was negative, once again. Married for 7 years, they had postponed children for the first 2, and ever since regretted the decision. The last 5 years had been a painful ordeal, trying to conceive. She had been healthy all her life and even the doctor felt so. But her uterus was a little weak after the 3 miscarriages she had suffered. And ever since, anxious to have a child, every effort had been made.

Temples, medicines and advice from elders came in the hundreds. The anxiety was the villain the doctor opined. But then nothing would cure her of that. Vikram, her husband, supportive and understanding, bore on. He did certainly want a child of his own, they loved each other and it seemed perfect to have a child that would bear witness to their commitment to one another.

The decision was not easy, but was finally made, adopt a child. Vikram's uncle had suggested it. Her friends thought it was a good idea, her family felt otherwise, her husband wanted time to think. They thought of all the reasons they could not have one of their own. Present day and science had all the solutions, but they didn't appeal to her as the right thing to do. The rationale was simple, "Lets give a child a loving home". That helped her make up her mind.

The procedure was long, they had to register with only one children's home, multi-registration was not allowed. For a new-born baby they'd have to wait and it may take over a year, a waiting list would now include their name also. The income criterion was not a problem, as Vikram enjoyed a successful career and Savithri herself was making good money as a computer instructor at a nearby IT institute. Another requirement was for a minimum 5 year long, childless marriage. That was easily accomplished as it was the very reason that had brought them there.

The waiting began.

The young 17-year old, just celebrated her 18th birthday. It was not a very happy celebration as she was due for delivery in another couple of months. Something had changed in her. Repenting the folly of her thoughtless act and wondering about what lay ahead of her, wondering whether what she was going to do was right.

Her parents had been supportive, lucky girl. But they wore the scars of heartbreak and shame. Life as she had known had turned upside down. Her new school was good. People did not ostracise her nor did they stare at her. Her student counselor had ensured that she did not feel left out. Life was looking brighter than ever.

The cramps had started. The baby was not yet due and with a few weeks left, she had taken the chance to picnic with her new friends. It was shocking, not like any pain she had felt before. Her friends panicked but soon gathered nerves and called for an ambulance. The next few hours were the fastest, the speeding ambulance, the rush to the operation theatre, the decision for a C-section and the crying baby.

Savithri had been waiting for a call. The waiting list had been long and she had hoped that a baby boom would shorten her wait and end her anxiety. Her routine had changed; the doom and desperation she had felt had also vanished. Though at times she pondered about her fate, the thought of a baby cheered her up. After all, the idea of giving a good life to a child appealed to her as the right thing to do. And a child would giving meaning and purpose to her life. A mutually beneficial arrangement.

Neetha was recovering from her anesthesia. Her hands immediately traced her flat stomach and scanned the bed for the baby. When she opened her eyes, it was her mother looking down at her with concern. The baby was in the incubator as it was 3 weeks premature and underweight. It was a boy.

The next few days she spent on her bed being told that the child was still in critical care and cannot be disturbed. She yearned to see her new born, but the tubes and monitors she was herself attached to, refrained her from doing so. It was only after a few more days that she realised what had happened.

The phone call that came stirred up the anxieties in her. It was from the children's home. A child was available for adoption, a one year old infant girl. Cold feet was something Savithri had not even felt on her wedding day, but today she experienced the icy chills running down her spine. The idea of adopting a child and the hustle and bustle associated with it had kept her in high spirits all this while. But with the d'day staring at her, second thoughts felt unavoidable.

Vikram was driving rather slow, and that gave more mileage to her thoughts. The preoccupation was something that cannot be missed easily. She wanted to turn back and head home, adoption was out of her league, she was just a regular lady, and she cannot love another's child as her own. But by the time she could talk Vikram to make the u-turn; they were already inside the children's home.

The administrator had worn a skeptical look the whole time; last minute change of mind was not unusual. Despite wanting the children to get adopted, they wanted to also ensure that the children reach the right homes. In-decisive parents would only hamper the child's progress. The year long wait also served as a test for the parents.

Savithri held the picture of the toddler in her hand, the bright eyes and rosy lips and cherubic face would appeal to anyone. Her hands trembled as she passed it on to Vikram, the turmoil in her mind could be easily read by him. He had secretly visited the sleeping child the previous day. The decision from his side had already been made.

The baby was gone; her parents had given it away while she was still unconscious. The anger she felt coupled with her helplessness allowed her to react only with an angst filled scream. Her world crumbled, she had been denied even the joy of seeing the face of her dear one. Life had been unfair to her and had been mean too. She lunged at her parents and wanted to tear them apart. Her weak body wouldn't co-operate and she fell on the floor in a huddle.

The crying of the child woke her up, it was right beside her. It had been a dream, her baby boy lay screaming beside her. A normal child, kicking and wailing while he waited for his mother to wake from her anesthesia. Her fears had become monsters in her imagination. Her parents stood beside her bed as she stirred up, they had been waiting by her side all the while. The tears didn't need any prompting to form; she was filled with some remorse for doubting them and joy at the sound of the child.

They were now a family of four. Neetha had decided to keep the baby; she would live up to the challenge of being a single mother. She could not punish the child for her mistakes. As she left for college, her parents waved goodbye holding their grandson in their hands. He was now the joy of all their lives. A happy ending to a bitter experience.

Savithri was busier than ever, the cradle had been decorated and all the guests had arrived. It was merely for fulfillment of her whim that she wanted to put the toddler in the cradle. Even at just one, Ananya was a handful and putting her in a cradle and keeping her there for a few minutes was a mammoth task. The initial few days with her had been difficult, but as the days wore by she accepted the two new people as her parents. Ananya, unique as she was, completed the puzzle to a home and the happy family celebrated her arrival in the company of all friends and relatives. The cheers and laughter rang through the walls of their home, their hearts now filled with joy. Savithri was beaming joyously as she held Ananya in her arms.

A Dark Dream..

Waking up is something normal. But not for me. I woke up from a coma they said. I remembered nothing.

"Anita you will have to stop being so silent. I know that this has been a very traumatic experience for you and that it all feels so unfair. Are you listening to me? Why are you so keen on wasting your second chance." Dr. Rekha was my therapist. Ever since i woke from my coma, she had been counselling me. The depression that set on me after realising that i had lost all memories, drove me insane. It was only through her that sanity was restored. "Anita", she went on,"listen dear, life is lying ahead of you, you have such loving parents and a caring husband. Atleast for them you will have to move on. Old memories are great. But life is full of new ones. Get out there and start living. Start creating new memories for yourself. Don't waste this second chance. Do you know how lucky you are?"

There was a lot of truth in what she had said. It was extremely painful to be unable to recognise your loved ones. My parents had broken down when they saw that i could not recognise them. My husband was more strong at heart and reacted in a more matter of fact way. I had fallen from the stair case at home and hurt my head. I had remained unconscious ever since only to wake up after two months with a clean slate for a brain. It wasn't entirely clean though. I remembered my languages, sights, sounds, whatever was required for normal life. Except the most important thing, all memories of the people i Love.

The house seemed so strange and new despite all the photos i had seen of it. Sanjay had taken all steps to ensure that i would not be surprised by anything or anyone. It was a crash course of who is who in the family. No memories does not mean that the people i forgot are out of my life also. Nothing had changed, except for me.

He was my husband, but i couldn't feel it. But yet we shared the same bed, for i did not want to burden others for my fault. It was my carelessness that i tripped off and rolled down the stairs. Everyone had suffered enough and i wanted to be the Anita that they all knew and loved. Tyring to be myself without even knowing who i was. The thought haunted me.

After spending almost a week with me at home, Sanjay finally left for work. I was home alone, not frightened but thrilled. I could finally explore the house that i had lived in and maybe find something about myself in turn. All i heard so far was that I was a sweet person, always helping and forgiving and liked to be quiet and enjoyed being at home. A wonderful cook and a perfect wife. I still felt that wasn't the answer i wanted. More than the roles i played and how i played them, i wanted to know how i thought and felt about the things i felt. And that's when i started searching myself.

The kitchen was the first fort, i scanned and scourged and ended up tidying the place. Apart from finding money hidden away in cookie jars, i could find nothing. The living room and bedroom too yielded nothing. I had noticed that my wardrobe was neatly stacked, maybe i had a penchant for neatness, as even in this search i couldn't resist cleaning the kitchen.

Finally i reached the attic, the darkest and most neglected place of the house. With a light at one end, i had to use a torch light to rummage through the things there. In contrast to my cleaning abilities, this was a mess. I was now confused. Who was I?

There in the corner i noticed, a small space hidden behind some stacked cardboard boxes. Felt like entering a cave that showed signs that early man once lived there. I had signs that someone had been there before. A reading light lying there stood proof to that. I felt i was edging on something.

Sitting in that corner gave me some peace, a rush of emotions seemed to surge from within. I turned on the reading light. There lay strewn on the floor some doodles and torn bits of papers. Then it caught my eye. Tucked in the corner between the wall and a box was a black book. I knew it was something that belonged to me.

The first few pages were all dreamy, it was me as a 17 year old penning some words on love and friendship. Then there was a break. Then there was a note about first day in college. A few erratic notes on how boring the lectures are and about the bad canteen food and the spicey pani puri that had upset my stomach. Again a break, a leap in time. It was a note on the grand engagement and how Sanjay was the best man on earth. It was all hunky dory.

But deep inside my heart was troubled. A bad feeling about reading the book kept devouring me. Suddenly i realised that it was late, time to stop reading and get moving. Instinctively i put the book back to that same corner and re-traced my steps back, leaving no clue as to where the sanctuary existed. For a strange reason i felt that it had to remain a secret.

That night at dinner he noticed the change in my face. I had to explain that I was trying to remember things. He took my hands in his, looked into my eyes and said in a soothing voice, "You don't have to be so hard on yourself. The past is past. Lets make a new start. Stop trying to remember." That is where i noticed. His voice was soothing but his eyes looked mean. I didn't know what to think of it and resorted to small talk till dinner got over. That night he held me tight in his arms till i slept off.

The next day was a frantic rush, a rush to be alone and be able to read through the pages of my journal. It was sweet, it was a poem that Sanjay had written for me while on our honeymoon. It was stuck to my journal for it was love. Some entries were scored out and some incomplete, they were the usual stuff of how the day went and how speaking to an old friend had been fun. Then i noticed the change. My handwriting had changed and so also the nature of things i wrote and then the page had a few wrinkly spots. It was dried tears.

I was shocked, what i read i could not believe. He has been the sweetest and most supportive husband and yet my journal said that he was a monster. As i read on, it became evident that i was fooled once again by his demeanor. The guy was just faking it, being nice and sweet to hide the viciousness he hid inside.

"Jan 15, 2010. Today Sanjay slapped me for no reason at all. He was watching TV and i called him for dinner. The rage in his eyes frightened me. This is not the man i married. He has changed so much. Every day the torment increases. I don't know why i am unable to stand up to him. I hope this ends soon. But why is he so violent. Mom and dad will be very upset if they know this. But how long do i go on so? I don't know what to do. I am scared. He is scary."

It was now very confusing. Why had i been such a coward? Why did i not stand up to him? The pieces started falling into place. Maybe i didn't fall accidentally off the stairs, maybe i was pushed. Had i been bolder this day would never have come. I could have had all my memories and my life back. Not like this, with no memory of a past, with no identity.

"Mar 23, 2010. I have had enough. I can't take his slurs and insults anymore. I am a good girl. I deserve a life better than this. I am leaving him. I have decided. I am going to MY HOME tomorrow. Goodbye Sanjay. Hope the devil takes you. I hate you. Rot in hell."

Guess what, Mar 24 i was admitted into the hospital, unconscious. Piecing the puzzle together was not difficult. Surely he was there when i fell down. He sure was capable of it.

Maybe i was a coward then to stand up to him. But then today i was a stronger woman and I had no intention of wasting my second chance. I had made up my mind. There was no looking back and no postponing. It was time to put an end.

It was not difficult to locate the nearest police station. The journal did all the talking. The rage in his eyes was evident when he was being taken away by the police. I had nothing to say to him. All i could say was "Rest in Peace Anita".

Super hero...

I wanted to be a superhero....as a child.. but realised that there are few requirements to be fulfilled....

1. Must love tights.... i mean from almost head to toe u will be covered in something tight... and u must learn to be comfortable with that...

2. Have flashy underwear..if u have to wear it outside it better be good...

3. Have a hot-bod.... seriously.. if u have to strut around in tights you'd better have a six-pack abs / good curves...

4. Secret boring identity... u have to have a boring name and a boring job.. and seem like a coward... that's the best way to hide away all your super powers...aka be a regular guy/gal....

5. Super fast changing ability.. step into ally and step out in different clothes.. step into phone booth and step out in your costume... etc etc.. u should be able to change clothes in the blink of an eye... least anyone catch u whilst changing..

6. Locomotion... pertains to means of transport and not anything else regarding digestion excretion... ability to fly most preferred.. u can avoid traffic... tele-porting is even better as u can save lots of time... but if u have a Bat-mobile kinds... ensure it can fly too... it's even better if it can convert into a boat...

7. Invisibility.. its a cool power to possess... other preferable cool powers are Super-strength.. super-hearing.. super-sight.. super-speed.. laser-eyes.. fire body... but i wouldn't prefer fire much... u can burn anything.. and if all your clothes are not fire-proof... you are gonna be fined for indecent exposure in public...

8. Super-name.. you need to have the right one... Super-man/woman already taken..Batman/batwoman was a click but then RATman is not a good idea... so are Pig-man and Chicken-man... Postman is another bad choice for superhero.. would work for a boring identity though.. the name should go with who you are... Shakthi-maan was a good choice....

9. Formidable villain.. a bad villain is to a good super hero like thick milk is to good cheese... always have a villain whom you can ultimately overcome... the hero should always be victorious...

10. Side-kick... this is optional... having a side-kick of the opposite-sex / sex you are attracted to.. will only hamper your super-hero work.. avoid company of such people when on a mission...

When all above conditions are satisfied... a Superhero / heroine is born....

Its a true copy..

Yes its true... a movie and director that i was going crazy for and ranting about... has turned out to be a copy...

worse still is the fact that the director did not give any credit to the original...

i was so appalled knowing this as i was a big fan of his movies.. i have seen each one of them and have loved them all....

though the movie is his baby... he should have given credit to the original...

surely Woody Allen would have been pleased to see his movie Annie Hall in an Indian version... Tamil, Telugu and now even Kannada in the talks...

After all paying a sum for the copyright and giving credit to the original would have been the honest thing to do....

WOW!!!

A week at home with just family and no other work, does wonders to the human spirit. Especially to mine. And an extension of that wonderful time was in the form of a book by Nicholas Sparks. God! he knows how to weave a tale of romance so beautifully with little mush and lots of Feel Good.

And the icing on the cake came yesterday evening.

I couldn't stop reading the book and sat in the auto heading home, reading intently into the fun and awesome date Logan and Beth are at. With the evening sky still above my head and wonderful love songs playing into my ears, i was enjoying every bit of it.

And suddenly, from nowhere, with no warning, it started drizzling. WOW was the word. My heart, the heart of a true romantic, literally did somersaults. The drizzled turned into a cool rain and i would have been the only person at that time really enjoying it all.

Being sprayed with the rain water, i sat cosily in my auto and kept noting that many had taken shelter from the pitter-patter.

I sure would have loved to have gotten drenched in that evening shower.

Once again WOW!! A beautiful gift from Heaven Above!!!

MAY I??

Month of may has begun. YEAH!!! But thats not my exact expression. Cause its summer, its sticky and sweaty and most of all a dear one is going overseas, permanently.

Given the fact that i am in chennai for a whole week, it puts my schedule on Cram Everything You Can mode. Not that i am a VIP, but then there are so many places to be and people to meet and everyone is important.

It is a holiday break for me, where i keep traveling around non-stop. But also binge on home food and tire myself by chatting and eating and sleeping.

Till some years ago May was meant for Exams. But now its pure pleasure. You can't have everything on the same platter, so i will have to tolerate the Sun and enjoy the best of things.

Oh yeah, if you are wondering what this is all about, the heading was supposed to read MAY I bother you with some nonsense

Give respect take respect..

Mariyadhaiya un kazhuthula irukura nagai ellam kazhatee kudu

thats the dialogue mouthed by most vazhi-pari kolllai karangal in our tamil movies.

so much respect even when robbing a person of everything they own. such scenes are now passe but then it happens in my life even now. Not exactly in the form of robbers. But then in the form of a TERROR who is beyond description.

It always starts as a gentle request "thaango" and soon reaches mammoth proportions "THAAAAAAANNNNGOOOO". The decibel level cannot be easily measured but is a sure shot method of extracting the desired results from the persons it is being targeted at.

On similar lines we also have "WAAANGOO" and also many a times "VEEEENNNDAAAM" when it comes to food.

With so much of mariyadhai running abound, one can not easily refuse the requests of this demanding yet cute 2 year old. As long as the request doesn't require one to stand upside down or bring the moon to her bedside, placating her needs is a little amusing.

The best mariyadhai i received so far was POOONGOOO i.e. Get Out...

Finding her!!!

Blink and miss. He saw her now and the next minute she was gone. It was in a restaurant, at the wash basin. Her face on the mirror. He had never seen eyes like those, her face so luminous, the lips that he could picture uttering sweet words. He looked around, looked over the entire place, but could never see her again.

His nights were now filled with dreams. He could feel her, laughing and talking to her friends, her laughter ringing in his ears. He woke up suddenly, he had to see her again. He decided that he will find her. With no name and with only a barely had glimpse of her face, he set out to the very restaurant he had first seen her. He ordered a coffee and waited. He ordered lunch and waited. After two long days of waiting for her, he realised that she may not come there again.

That night, he dreamed again. He could hear her voice, he heard her planning for going to a coffee shop with her friends, even discussing the red tee she is going to wear. He woke up startled. The dreams were so vivid. Was he psychic? Would she really visit the coffee that he dreamed about? He had to find out. He figured out a plan. He decided to write her a note, a note to the girl in the red tee, telling that he wanted to be-friend her. A note that contained his number. "I would really like to be friends with you", he had written and added his number below. Nervously hoping that she would respond and not spur him.

He had arranged for a little boy to deliver the note when that girl comes and then waited for her call on his phone. No new messages or calls. He knew it wouldn't be so easy.

His dreams about her increased, and every time he heard her voice. Her laughter filled his mind. He was slowly getting worried cause she was occupying every waking thought of his and he could not concentrate on anything else. Even when asleep he would dream of her. That is when one night, he heard a name. It was her name, he knew it instantly.

He started looking up for her details on the internet, scanning all profiles on all networking sites. Her name was on his lips always. His anxiety grew each time he opened a profile bearing that name, but then on seeing the picture in it he would be left disheartened. He started question hi sanity, how could he believe that the name he heard in his dream could be hers. Before he could raise more questions about how absurd everything was, he hit upon it. It was the profile, the one that he was searching for. It was the very girl. The same luminous face and pretty eyes. The face that eluded him for so long. It was her.

Her mail address was available on her profile. He immediately mailed her and couldn't believe his eyes when she had replied. He decided to mail her often and not rush to meet her. His e-mails to her were promptly replied to, but always remained blank. But just the fact she was reading them, gave him happiness. And finally after a week of mailing, he asked for her number and address. To this also the reply was a blank.

He didn't know where things were going and with every blank mail, that once livened him up, he could feel the dread setting in. Unable to bear the silence, the maddening thoughts, he wanted to be rid of the pain inside. He found a knife and slit his wrists.

The ambulance sirens were roaring loud. The patient was unconscious due to loss of blood. The doctor assured the anxious parents that things will be alright. They realised where it had all gone wrong and could not stop lamenting that they should have known that something was wrong.

It had started when their daughter received an anonymous note from someone who wanted to talk to her. From that day she had complained that she felt like she was being stalked. Her fears came through when the she started receiving mails from that same unknown, professing his love for her. She never knew how he knew so much about her, and that worried her the most. Every night after that was pure nightmare and she could be heard talking in sleep, sometimes laughing and sometimes sad.

In an act of desperation, she had finally slit her wrists.

Suddenly from his trance he awoke. The pain in his wrists was now unbearable. He realised he was in a hospital, surrounded by equipment and blinding lights. He wanted out of his agony and yet he found himself in greater pain now. A nurse near him noticed that he was awake. She immediately rushed to the doctor that the patient was now conscious.

Within minutes the room was filled with anxious faces. Wading through the crowd the doctored moved in. He enquired how he was feeling. But something was not right cause the doctor was using a different name. The name of THAT GIRL.

He protested, saying he was not who they thought he was. Mistaken identity he claimed. Suddenly a lady in the crowd ran towards him, crying and calling him. Again with that girl's name. the pressure was too much for him. He fell unconscious again.

When he woke up the doctor was with him. He was talking to him gently asking him his name. And then he showed him the girl's picture. He recognised her and told the entire story to the doctor.

The doctor was now convinced. He gave him a mirror in his hand and told him that being in the hospital has paled him. Unassumingly he looked in. To his shock, the girl was looking at him. He looked around but couldn't find her. He looked again, afraid of what he might see.

It was her again.

His world started spinning around. He cried out in pain. Something was very wrong.

The doctor calmed him down and gave him a shot in his arm. The medicine worked quickly and he soon drifted off to sleep.

As he lost consciousness he heard the doctor's voice announce, "It's a classic case of Split Personality".

Inspired by the story of Narcissus..