musings.....

So here I was,at Couz's place for the long weekend,in NH.Over Chai and Namkeen, we yapped away to glory, realising that nothing much had changed over all these years.A prolific blogger and a partner-in-crime in school, we laughed at how the more the number of tests we had the next day, the more we kept away from studying.

I don't know if this is a blogger trend across the board, but I personally am at my blogging prime (only) when I have neck-wringing deadlines the next day.Today is no exception.Another long night looming, I set to work and turned to youtube for some musical entertainment.I heard Kaavaavaa after a long time. I couldn't resist this post. So here goes :

Before you read this though, I highly recommend listening to this.

I have always been fascinated by the folklore around Lord Muruga,and that was definitely a big part of the charm in this composition. But it was also Varali.The Gandharam in Varali just mesmerizes me. Pay attention to the "PMG..R" prayogam used throughout the composition. As the song progresses, also pay attention to the ucha sthayee "RGMGR" in the "Valli Deivayani" bit. Its the Ri and Ga that just completely bowl me over.

On another note,I also highly recommend "Kaana Ayiram Kan Vendum", again another composition on the peacock God, by Nithyashree.This song was on my loop list in musicindiaonline all the time. You can also see the video here. Set to Abheri, the virutham draws out the complete essence of Abheri,and the transition from the virutham to the krithi is just soo fascinating.

Thank God for Music !

Two hour update :

I've expressed variations of this before - like I miss India, or friends and family, many ,many times I've said I miss Bangalore. But at this very moment, I feel a huge, huge longing to walk the streets of Pondy Bazaar. More importantly I want to be here, listening to this. Sure, over the next two months, I am going to have my fair share of concerts to listen to in Btown. But its not the same. The fake accents, the heavy jewellery,the zari'ed pattu podavais notwithstanding, there is something magical about sitting at Nungambakkam Cultural Academy listening to a Suddha Dhanyasi, hearing a nondescript passerby critique it better than Subbudu.

Here it is - I miss Chennai !

Many , many lives ago,there was that one sea.One, big and blue.She turned , to glimpse that perfect wave and paused to reflect.She ran toward it,stopping mid way as if her soft feet would somehow mar the wave itself. Her beautiful legs barely touched the the white sands, as she waited for the wave to hit her.She stood right in the middle of it, letting it surround her.

Slowly , the wave receeded. She turned around, confused. The part of her that stood in awe of that perfect wave , was esctatic.It was nirvana to just hear noise and splash all around her. The part of her though, that wished she could ride the wave forever, was pensive.


And then there was, interestingly another part. The part that saw her as she closed her eyes and the wave hit her. The part that somehow attuned to her half-sand kissed figure, wondering why she wasn't soaked to the bones.

And there she stood.As she spread her hands wide and high, she leapt up, as if toward the sky. Her hands pierced the tip of a once-perfect wave, rippling it apart forever.

She felt human.

1.Never pass up an opportunity to get tickets online for a desi movie.Make that a capital NEVER EVER if you live in San Jose or Edison.Unless you have some sort of a weird fetish to be shoved inappropriately, and be "solicited" by a few aunties for their prospective nieces/nephews. Trust me.

2.If you have a telephonic interview,it is perfectly OK to wear your jammies and do away with your contacts.There is one caveat though - You need to brush your teeth before an interview.Don't ask me why though.I cannot for the love of God put a finger on this.If you are in the middle of a stimulating chat or phone call, and you are two minutes away from an interview, use the following algorithm. Believe me, it works.Every single time.

Step 1: Is it an East Coast or a West Coast call ? If it is an East Coast caller,switch off your computer and practice sitting in attention.Take deep breaths.

Step 2: If it is a West Coast caller, pause briefly. While a Gchat discussion about whether the Saravana Bhavan in the City or the one in Oak tree has the world's best Aapam is intellectually stimulating, you have an important mail to send out.Open your gmail, and remind your caller that the interview was scheduled at 10 30 AM EST.Chances are, if you wait long enough, you will get an email profusely apologizing the timezone mix up, followed by a murky description of when the next call could be expected.

Step 3 : If it is a hiring manager upwards of a Director, pause again.Point your mouse to the bottom right of the screen and check today's date. If it reads anything beyond November 20th, you need to make a phone call to the HR.Chances are , you might get a call/email in three days confirming that the HR forgot to check the Director's updated vacation schedule.

Step 4 : If it is a Desi calling, Do not pause.Give yourself the day off,get a manicure , visit the neighborhood candle company,indulge yourself in a meaningless chick flick, you get the idea. Also, just when your face is covered in some gooey , minty green paste, expect your phone to ring loudly. Also, expect the caller to say "Hello, yes, I calling about interviewing. What is the difference between a thread and a process?" "Uhhh.." "OK, that's fine, explain memory management" Well, you get the idea.

Step 5 : If all else fails,stop obsessing over that damn phone, and start singing loudly.

3.Do not attempt to tell resemblances between people. Especially if the "person" in question is a tiny peanut about twelve weeks old, and the photo in question is a black and white two by two ultrasound.Apparently, you cannot, and looks change, too.

4.Barbie Dolls are inappropriate gifts for a two and a half year old girl,because of the choking hazard. Even if the lady in question knows all about princesses,fairy tales, and how to make a "paratha burrito."

5.Evidently, I love getting gifts from guys,followed by a bear hug, and a loud "I love you" that anyone within a ten mile radius can hear.Especially when the gift is a chain made of wool, beads and feathers made by a seven year old, especially for me in his art class.

6.You are not crazy to make thousand and odd mile road trips all by yourself,not when you have the best times of your life almost dying on a delirious canoe ride.Or go on a thirteen hour cross country impulsive relocation trip with a friend, and enjoy it soo much, that your forget all serious license and registration quandaries.Or pull an all nighter with your buddies to watch all episodes of "Ohh La La La".Or stay in bed all day and watch chick flicks with your GFs.

7.It takes a hazardous journey in an ice storm,a cramped car,looming deadlines,bad toilets and food deficit to reiterate to yourself how much you love your music and singing.

8.Well,apparently, if you buy your thesis committee some Starbucks coffee and fudge brownies early in the morning, chances are, you will not be hung by a noose in the town center while everyone takes a free lesson in rock-throwing, with you as a target. Well, brownies, and two papers,three years,and the confidence to write a book on frustration management.

9.Well, I am not always as tongue-tied as the time I filled my blog with cartoons.Sometimes, I can actually write.

10.Oh did you know that a cylinder of LPG in India costs about 500 bucks now? Well, that and the fact that there exists a Santro Automatic makes your idea of a one-way ticket to homeland pretty fuzzy and confusing.

11.Do you ever have the kind of questions that I do ? For example, I have always wondered how people who live alone get dressed to go to parties.Especially that little black dress that you look fabulous in and have trouble zipping up.Or the time you fumble with opening cans.Or the time you need to come back to a warm house and some soup.Well apparently the need to have a great roomie is valid.

12.You know how you play Rock-Paper-Scissors and how scissors trumps paper and so on? Well,Family trumps 'em all.

No spoilers here, so please feel free to read on !


It was when I was in my fourth standard. I remember Mrs.Ramola, very well. She was my social sciences teacher, and she used to be very fond of me. She was rotund, and had glasses on.Her hair was as frizzy and wavy as mine.She used to ride a bike, and there were times when she used to pick me up from my home, and drop me at school. There were times when, she found me walking on that last stretch to school. She would drop Mrs.Latha , the science teacher, and pick me up and drive that last stretch.

I remember an awful day in fourth standard, it was my Science Quarterly Exams.I received my paper, and it had fail marks on it. I was supposed to have scored 98/100, but my marks were 36. Because I had failed to write the question number for all answers. I remember how my mom cried, ashamed that her house had "a failed" student.Where did I go wrong ? She cried. She cursed me.

I was supposed to be "bright" in school, but it was always overshadowed by my talkativeness,my laziness. There were days when I was made to go back to school in the evening because I had forgotten to note down the day's homework.I got caned many a time. I had issues with my friends, and my mom was always trying to mediate.


It was my 6Th standard, and I was scoring well in Tamil, because my tamil teacher taught my sister, who was always a topper.Until the Parent-Teacher meeting, where my mom casually mentioned all her woes to him - Her first daughter was always a topper, she concentrated, always finished her homework, came home on time,no trouble at all. She spent sleepless nights worrying about her younger one, because I was lazy, did not pay enough attention, picked up fights, rebelled, always playful, did not "sit down to do hard work" and so on.In the next exam, I barely passed Tamil. So much for a helpful mom.


I was always called "bright" by my teachers. Somehow they felt I just did not try hard enough.I remember being called a "problem child" more than once when I was a kid. My childhood was one big blur.The images of my school that stuck in my head was a mixture of standing outside the class, getting hit on the knuckles,getting into fights with guys and so on. But I remember Mrs.Ramola vividly. For some strange reason, she loved me.Once a week, every Friday, she divided the class into boys and girls, and conducted a quiz. I was the star of this session, and everyone looked up to me to win.The days when I was absent, the girls lost.It was the first time I was ever the best at something,and that meant a whole lot to me.

I also remember participating in all possible extra curricular activities, mainly as a way to get away from school. I remember how I used to fear telling my parents about the latest painting competition or elocution , or singing. Invariably after the usual discourse about how I should stop all this and focus on academics, my mom ferried me around. My sister helped with the speeches, my mom heard me sing, and taught me lyrics.And then I started winning some of these.

But academic experiences at that dreaded school only got worse.The competition was fierce,and the teachers , merciless.I did have my favorites, and I learnt from some, I despised most others. It was like I was serving time. But luckily, we moved away to a different city.

My fortunes changed drastically after I enrolled in this one school. The principal was friends with my music teacher and was a great music enthusiast.She was a strong believer in encouraging extra-curricular activities of children.She had heard me sing before,and took me in.Everything started on a positive note. I started participating in debates, quizzes, oratory, and of course music competitions. Those two years saw me on top of the competition circuit in my city. I was looked up to, and respected.

This confidence spilled over to academics, too.I had an image to live up to, and it made me want to try harder.I started going well in school, occasionally topping the class too.I managed to pass out of high school, got into a pretty good college and so on.I cannot imagine going to a better suited undergrad college than BITS.Mainly because I do not respond well to authority, and a "one size fits all" mentality of educational institutions. In that sense, I consider myself incredibly fortunate.I never attended classes, but I performed when it mattered. I cracked some courses out of shape, and never cared about the rest.I was too engrossed in my vocal performances, committees, meetings and friends to care. I had the best time of my life.

Maybe I am a rebel, sometimes without a cause , too. Maybe I am anti-establishment.But that is who I am. I need to be in an atmosphere that doesn't stifle and strangle me to death. Be it work, school or societal interactions.

Today I watched "Taare Zameen Par".I need to own this one on DVD, like RDB.Aamir says, each child is special. I say, Amen to that Brother!I really hope everyone in India watches it. Especially your "Strict Disciplinarian Uncle" and "Orderliness and Regularity Aunt."


On an entirely different note : After a hiatus of about three years, today has seen a return to "personal blogging", a style I thought I would NEVER embrace.Is this style here to stay? Wait and Watch. Happy New Year Folks !!