Last evening I watched the final episode of The Indian Ocean with Simon Reeves. A phenominal program and I want to add the DVD to my documentaries collection. One part of the program focussed on wild Loris in Indonesia. It's a small furry animal, brown with big marble eyes that is an expert tree climber. Of all the descriptions, the most important to note it that it is a critically endangered specie. Sadly, it has been severly hunted or captured to keep as pets. Taming the Loris means forcefully removing its teeth with pliers to render it harmless. Apparently there is a huge market for this animal primarily with the middle-class community in Indonesia.

The cruelty and shame is unimaginable!! Authorities and welfare activists ackowledge the futility of fighting the poachers as they are a part of a strong mafia. Naturally then the only option is to increase awareness amongst people and stop the buying. This I find by and large seems to be the only solution for several problems in the animal/ animal products industry. No one can stop the hunting, the cruelty that follows, the subsequent ecological damage..the only hope is to create awareness. I suppose it is the same with non animal related issues as well. For centuries no one has been able to stop drug trafficking. Saying no to drugs at the buyers end seems the only course of control.

I am more sympathetic to the suffering in the animal kingdom than anywhere else and this piece of information really upset me. Why would you need a Loris for a pet? Isn't a cat or a dog good enough? How can anyone live with a pet knowing they've pulled its teeth off, watch it suffer everyday while it tries to eat/just live? My heart bleeds at the very thought of this. Such enormous proportions of sadism and evil shocks me. How is that only humans can be this cruel? I admit there are compassionate and kind people as well but the more I see programs such as this or read the news, I feel the rotten ones easily outnumber the decent ones. It is such a sad state to be in where we are destroying the world around  usin every which way we can, heedless to the fact that we have nowhere else to go.

The Indonesian forests and all it nurtures is vanishing right before our eyes. We don't have to envision its state way ahead in the future ....we will probably see the total destruction before our time is up. Even then, one day, when we stand on the barren, leeched land that was once a beautiful forrest, we will only think of  more ways to destroy it and take from it to fulfil our selfish interests.

Its been more than 3 years since I have posted anything on my blog. I had almost forgotten of its existence. I don't write much these days...no..I don't write at all anymore. Lately, so many people I know have been asking me if I have updated my blog and have written anything. I find this very amusing. They make me sound like a celebrity writer who pens interesting stories and books every other week. Even when I used to write 3 years ago, it was just mundane ramblings expressed in mediocre words. Apprently even such posts of mine suitably entertained my loyalists (few though they are!). While that is most encouraging, I am just not motivated to write anymore.

What do I write about? Everybody these days has lots to say on everything. There are plenty of witty writers (I enjoy reading their posts), serious writers, opinionated writers,  passionate writers, focussed writers, wannabe writers and then the true writers. With so much to read, when do I write and which category do I fall into? But it's a catch 22 isn't it? Unless you start writing you won't know what kind of writer you will be but to start writing you need to know what kind of potential you have. I think when I used to write earlier I had plenty to say on everything and I expressed myself loudly for anyone willing to hear but as I have grown a bit older and hopefully wiser, I sometimes feel my view is just another noise in the general din. Now now...there is no need to analyse this more than is necessary and assume that I don't value myself and all that psychological blah blah. I am only questioning the necessity to write about everything whether people want to know or not and if I don't care about my readers, then why I am publishing my words in a public blog...why not just keep a personal diary?

It seems I have wasted 3 years (according to my readers) overthinking things and analysing more than is necessary instead of just putting pen to paper or rather finger to keypad. Writing like any other art gets better with practise I am told and right now I feel extremely rusty and out of touch. With so many people asking me to get back to writing (I hope this isn't a clever tactic to get me off their hands), I have decided to start writing again slowly at first and if I feel confident about it then maybe more regularly later on. Disclaimer: I still don't know what to write about and if i did why it should matter. Ah well...for what it's worth let me start all over again.

Racism in Australia

So I know I am supposed to be bubbling with patriotic fury that my brothers are being beaten by a bunch of "convict descendants" (as many are now deeming the Australians) but I am sorry...I feel nothing of that sort. There are so many facets to this issue that I don't know where to begin.Let me start by stating my opinion. Australia according to me is NOT a racist country and I don't say this because I live here now or have become apathetic to the sufferings of my countrymen. I don't deny that there have been several attacks over the last few months in the state of Victoria alone and that they have been unprovoked and of racial origin but by and large this country is not racist. To support this there are several points I wish to make.

First of all, the Indian media has gone into a frenzy sensationalizing very small incident that occurred to an Indian in this country. There has really been no integrity in their reporting and many have been baseless and thoroughly irresponsible. Since the unsuspecting citizen has nothing besides the media to go by, they have chosen to assimilate every reporting as the truth. Second, I really want to know which country isn't racist? India definitely cannot win a crown on that one! Our country has its own significant quota of prejudists and bigots. For heaven's sake...you don't have to look beyond the caste system. I have grown up in a country where the SC/ST/Dalits etc are treated like trash. They are constantly fighting for their rights, and now due to decades of piled up anger they are turning against the so called "upper class". I myself remember the hatred I used to feel towards them when I was a student because they enjoyed reservation in everything and slipped in conveniently everywhere because of it. The Hindus hate the Muslims and vice versa, North Indians and South Indians can't stand each other...and who are East Indians excuse me?...some chinkis or as we prefer to call them "manchurians".What do you call a country that is intolerant to its own countrymen?

Ok, so lets pass the caste issues in India...how do you think we treat foreigners who come to our land? Take Goa for example, how many foreigners have been burgled, beaten, raped, murdered, mutilated etc and somehow I don't recall watching on TV people burning effigies or our Prime Ministers and demanding U.N intervention. That's just Goa to start with. We laugh at foreigners like they don't have any emotions (and I have seen this happen so many times in my own city), we ridicule their ways and call them white trash, our men would look at every foreigner wearing short/exposing clothes as if they were sluts and are issuing an open invitation to be raped. Sonia Gandhi would have never become a part of our country if she didn't wrap that Khadi sari around her and pull the pallu modestly over her head. I have been to Hampi/Goa/Rajasthan and have seen for myself how foreigners have to pay three times the price of anything they touch and it is a "take it or leave it situation". So wouldn't all this count for racism too? What rights do we have to treat them like this? Isn't it the responsibility of our country to make sure these things don't happen? And with all this dirt on our backs to carry what are we being so righteous about?

Racism is wrong! Anywhere and everywhere and in any which way...it is wrong! If this country has treated Indians or any other immigrants racially, then they need to accept, review and correct their ways but to blow one's top and react so agitatedly and cripple a relationship with a country is extremely immature and uncalled for. Besides, most of the attacks have been in the student community or on taxi drivers. In both these sets, I have often noticed irrespective of the nationality, temperaments are often volatile and therefore there is always 2 sides to consider. In another news, Amitabh Bachchan I read has refused to accept some Australian honor because he feels it is being unsporting of his country's moment of suffering. I am sure this got him immense amount of much needed publicity but his yielding sacrifice has nothing but augmented the fury amongst our already self-righteous people. One would have expected celebrities who carry such mass influence to behave more responsibly. I tell you why I say this.

As much as we Indians love to over react and dramatize, reality is quite boring. Many Indians in Australia live lovely, peaceful and fulfilling lives. They enjoy good education, enviable careers and the climbs that come with it, they mingle well with the locals and have great relationships with them. They promote their culture, lifestyle and cuisine openly and it is widely accepted and appreciated in this country. Many Australians are curious to know more about India and its deep history and culture. Having said all that, it becomes very embarrassing for us non-harassed Indians to live amongst our Australian friends when our brothers back home are constantly and irrefutably destroying our relationship with them. All these candle light vigils, protests and dharna's are very impressive when seen in movies like Rang de Basanti but when it is threshed out at every opportunity of drama, unnecessarily, then it becomes very irritating and irresponsible. Even the ones who have had no problem so far now start to face issues generated by mistrust.

Again, I am not denying that there have been racial attacks on Indians by Aussies and I feel this is highly condemnable and as such it should be taken seriously by this country. But we have migrated to another land seeking our "fame and fortune" and it therefore falls on us to better prepare ourselves to fit into its lifestyle and culture. We tend to group and refuse to budge out of our niche to allow them into our lives even though we live amongst them. We live in unsafe neighborhoods where the chance of any Aussie getting mugged, beaten, robbed is just as high as an Indian. We are not very subtle in projecting our lifestyle and tastes etc. While Australians need to work on maintaining a multi cultural society sans problems and friction it is also our responsibility to blend in better.

The overpowering response, rage and retaliation by my countrymen has been quick and reassuring, but I implore you all to tone it down by several notches and consider the other side of the coin too. It has now come to a point where our own PM is requesting us subtly to take the edge off our anger. Killing bilateral ties over a solvable problem isn't worth it.

Open politics

Yesterday I dined with Peter Costello. Peter Costello has been the deputy PM of Australia for 14 years and treasurer for 11. So that makes him a big political and public figure of this nation. And yet he sat in a corner of a little Indian restaurant with a friend quietly eating his dinner. Sitting in the adjacent table, I was bowled over by this the whole evening. I couldn't help staring at him now and then, searching for some kind of body guard whispering importantly into an invisible ear piece or even a long fleet of official cars for heaven's sake. There were none. It was just Peter, his friend and the lovely food. Everyone else ignored him, it was like a huge mogul lost in anonymity.

See, in India things are different. And I have grown up in that difference and find it hard to let celebrities and public figures be. We stare, we whisper, we point hurriedly and heads turn, we might even approach and quickly click our cameras/ cell phones away for proof, and we would find something....anything to get an autograph on. Imagine a neta of our country spending his evening quietly in a corner and then slipping away into the night unnoticed afterwards. Well...be honest...you tried hard but couldn't really imagine that could you?

As I remember, wherever a politician goes, ruling party of not, a fleet of cars follow him. Roads are blocked and the harrassed public is forced into taking narrow diversions that invariably lead to the next point of blockage. In fact the South Indian comedian Vivek expressed this point with great wit and humor in one movie. He is on his way to an interview on his bike when at a signal a traffic cops stop him and all others. When asked they say a minister is passing by. So he looks as far as he can see for a convoy but there is nothing there. All of a sudden, high above, everyone hears a loud whoosh and the cops look towards the sky and salute. The dot of a plane high up in the sky carries our neta away while traffic on the roads have been halted indefinitely. Frankly, this isn't too far from the truth in our country, is it?

If the minister were someone important and if he went out to a restaurant to dine, they would have probably closed off an entire section of the hotel to keep it exclusive for him and his party. The entrance would have been thronging with media and public to question him or pass on requests or complaints. That is what I have seen and am used to...and here sat Peter Costello calming passing a regular evening away.

I must admit and appreciate the greatness of this country. Australia prides itself on being informal and friendly and they have surely achieved it. Everyone has their place in society and are equally respected. Celebrities and politicians get their dues but they are not passionately followed and worshipped like the Indian counterparts. After his term as Prime Minister, John Howard went back to his house in a regular suburb and continues to lead a normal life there. While I don't mean to belittle the ways of my countrymen, I definitely appreciate the sense of equality this country believes in and the dignity each profession carries. Nothing is looked down upon and a celebrity and a regular employee could dine in the same restaurant without any fuss. Being a politician is just another job and therefore that makes him just another person.

But me being Indian and all, I couldn't help staring and whispering and hopelessly trying to find my camera or a piece of paper to get some proof of the evening.

Marriage has given me plenty of opportunity to explore my talent in cooking. Now 'talent' it is said is a big grey area, depending on whom you talk to. Those who survived my cooking would probably give you a decent review in passing but there have been some unsuspecting victims whom I have quietly disposed off with a soup here and a starter there. They were lovely people, bless them, who unknowingly sacrificed themselves for my culinary progress. One lone, brave, warrior left standing on the burning deck whence all but him had fled would be my husband. A unique kind of gallantry he has displayed, often known to arise due to a lack of choice when pushed into a corner, burning between two fires (the one that's raging in his stomach and the other that's burning my pots).

But jokes apart (and they were jokes, I cook well!!and that's that), the last year and half saw me trying several different, simple and lovely recipes. Some became household favorites like:

1. Masala aloo mor kozhumbu: This is the regular south indian mor kozhumbu with a twist. It comes half way between the south indian recipe and the the north indian Kadi with some cinnamon and garlic thrown in.

2. Beetroot mor kozhumbu: This became popular because of the beautiful color beetroot imparts to the butter milk. A shade inbetween a salmon blushing at its partner and cotton candy that is slowly losing its fluff.

3. Sprout salad with peanuts and paneer: This recipe is my all time favorite simply because it makes a simple one dish meal and it has risen wonderfully on several occasions and rescued me when I was too lazy to cook.

4. Kurma and parota: Parota is not to be confused with the stuffed paratas of the north. It is unique in that it is made of maida and forms crispy, chewy layers. This I have found is the best dish to be eaten with kurma. Kurma or korma is a Persian-Indian dish with its roots in the Mughlai cuisine. This recipe was passed down to me by my mother and it is one of the best recipes of kurma I have ever tasted.

5. Soups: I have always loved soups and I order them as often as I can in restaurants. Lately, I have gotten to cooking soups several times a week as it is healthy and low in fat. Some of the soups I have made are Pea and lettuce, broccoli and cheddar cheese, Moroccan carrot soup, Creamy pumpkin, Mixed veg etc. I want to try Gazpacho and some soup recipes with lentils and chick pea in particular. The other day I saw this italian recipe of chickpea and porcini mushrooms on TV that really caught my interest.

6. Bread pizzas: My husband and I are addicted to it. I toast the bread and use a bruchetta topping as the base. My toppings vary each time but I love to use chargrilled capsicum and eggplants, olives, capers and corn kernels.

7. My husband gifted me several cookery books by Kurma Dasa of ISKCON and I personally feel each and every one of those recipes is a treasure. I have tried several of them and they all taste wonderful considering none of the recipes include onion or garlic. My favorite salad from the book is the mixed bean salad with jalapenoes.

8. Good old Onion sambar and beans poriyal: I used to dabble in cooking even before my marriage and I could cook most recipes reasonably well. But sambar and rasam were my nemesis. I can now confidently say that I make good, aromatic,tasty sambar and all that credit goes to my husband who taught me how to make one in the very first week following our wedding. His recipe was simple and friendly and banished all the fears I had of cooking sambar forever.

9. Egg roll/Paneer rolls: This started out as a snack, then graduated to picnic ot travel food. I found the drive from Canberra to Sydney extremely boring and monotonous. A couple of good rolls, some cookies and fruit juice changed the entire outlook of the drive. Today, I make egg rolls very often for any meal and we love it.

10. Mushroom risotto: Well I haven't made this too often but I made it just like how it tasted in typical Italian restaurants and I am proud of that.

......and the rest.Who am I kidding? My husband and I enjoy food and different cuisines. We love to experiment and find new favorites every other week. To jot down just a few would be very unfair on the rest. There are very very few restaurants in Canberra that we haven't set and when we get bored we don't mind travelling to taste new cuisines.

Random verses III

Theme parties for children have become a fad nowadays. Or maybe they were there since before my time too but I feel they were never so popular with middle class families. Especially the South Indian middle class. We just wore new clothes, went to the temple and prayed. As my friend is planning a "Princess party" for her kid who is turning a year old, I now realise how much time, energy, creativity and money goes into it. But it is all great fun to do and whether the kids even realise it's their party or not becomes secondary, the adults have a good time.

I thought it would be nice if the party invite was a poem and so I penned this one down. Whether my friend uses it or not, I am quite proud of it. It's really very simple and generic.

Here ye you fine folks of my land,
this is a royal decree, my command.
A party is planned, it's coming our way
to celebrate my awaited First Birthday.
To my splendorous castle you are all invited,
for on the .....of May, it has been dated.
An evening filled with laughter and fun,
bring your partners, daughters and sons.
Close your shops, pack your hens,
stop all work and just cap your pens.
It isn't every year that a princess turns ONE,
we must celebrate and the mood has begun.
Follow the light of the northern star,
then turn right or you would go too far.
Yonder the fields, the castle stands proud,
but if you are lost..then just shout out.
For those of you who can't find your way,
here is the address in full display!!

Imagine this poem written in ink, calligraphy style on a piece of parchment. That would set the stage for a fairy-tale.

Random verses II

For those of you who follow my blog like a leopard, Random Verses will give you the introduction you seek.

A day before this Valentine's day, my husband sent me a forward of some smart alek who wrote a mean but a very funny poem on women.

It goes like this:

A TWO-LINE RHYME WITH THE MOST ROMANTIC FIRST LINE, BUT...
My darling, my lover, my beautiful wife:
Marrying you screwed up my life.
I see your face when I am dreaming.
That's why I always wake up screaming.
Kind, intelligent, loving and hot;
This describes everything you're not.
Love may be beautiful, love may be bliss,
But I only slept with you 'cause I was pissed.
Roses are red, violets are blue, sugar is sweet, and so are you.
But the roses are wilting, the violets are dead,the sugar bowl's empty, and so is your head.
I want to feel your sweet embrace;
But don't take that paper bag off your face.
I love your smile, your face, and your eyes
--Damn, I'm good at telling lies!
Darling, my love, you take my breath away.
What have you stepped in, to stink this way?
My feelings for you no words can tell,
Except for maybe "Go to hell."
What inspired this amorous rhyme?
Two parts vodka, one part lime.

Now through all the laughter, it riled up the feminist side of me and as I just can't take a man belittling a woman (vodka induced or not), I had to squelch this attitude and came up with a little verse of my own.

From all the brave girls on valentines...to their brave guys.

Welcome to the real world you silly men who assume,
That we women want fancy gifts and you men to swoon,

Who wants to be reminded once every year,
Of what big pricks you men are, it brings us close to tears,

They say an apple a day keeps the doctor away,
But what on earth would keep you monsters at bay,

We would love to gift you men a sports car of your choice,
Just make sure you drive far far away and let us rejoice,

The day we met you, you seemed sensitive and kind,
But now after a closer look, we women must have been blind,

Good looks, great car, a penthouse or lots of money,
I wish you had at least quarter this list, my poor honey!

Alas! We still married you because we thought,
We could make something out of you, a fallen horse trot,

Roses maybe red and violets could be blue,
But don't be so pretentious, all these have got nothing to do with you,

I think all women are great, beautiful and smart,
We don't need any affirmations from you retards,

So on this valentine may all you brave men,
Take a huge rain check and truly thank god that you still have your women!

Random verses

In the past one year, I have had several opportunities to express my prowess in amateur poetry. Most of these poems evolved as a reply to my husband's mail. When I say poem, it is more like an extended limerick. A few of my tolerant and loyal audience got to read it and have since then maintained that I should publish these on my blog. I haven't found too much time or the inclination to write much anyways and ergo decided to fill this month's quota of blogging with some poetry.

It was my first true winter last year and I was taken completely unawares. The cold hit me hard and ruthlessly and I lay like a beaten animal, forced into hibernation. My poor husband suffered my state of inactivity for those four months and one day dripping with guilt but not being in a state to do anything else, I wrote him this poem.

Life said:
Poor old kailash left home today,
penniless and hungry all the way,
he sulked and he fumed at his plight,
how dare his wife keep snoring inspite.

She never wakes up on time for him,
hardly cooks or goes to the gym,
what on earth does she do all day?
wondered kailash in great dismay!!

Kailash said:
There is so much work to do
she could vacuum the house or shine a shoe,
the vessels pile on the kitchen sink,
but when i ask, all she does is blink and blink.

She never gives me money when I ask,
I've had enough! I will take her to task!!
she keeps shopping and spending all the time
but when I want some, there is never a dime.

Enough is enough, I am through,
I have had it with this wicked shrew,
I won't stand this lazy sloth any more,
I will send her back across three shores.

Oh! but what will I do when she is gone?
Who will love me and and keep me warm?
I will miss her so much that I would cry,
I think it's better if I give it another try.

I know when I am home tonight,
it will be a cosy and pleasant sight,
to have the house sparkling clean,
warm delicious food ready to eat,
I love my wife no matter what,
even if she is a lazy snoozing sloth,
she will definitely make it up to me,

Life said again:
It will be worth it in the end, you'll see!!

Anushya said:
Sorry Kailash for this morning's state
it is just today and not your fate,
the cold has gripped me hard and strong,
my body refuses to move, there is something wrong!!

I tried to wake up and cook for you
I tried very hard...but what to do :-(
the warmth of the blanket lulled me in,
and I nestled in too warm to even care or think.

I hope you are not too angry with me,
I hope you have forgiven and let it be,
tonight's feast will be good on your tummy,
food that it hot and really very yummy.

Then Life said in the end:
What is to ever keep them apart?
surely not some silly morning start,
they love each other so very much
that they will kiss and truly make up.

.................To be continued.

Summer solution

An early sunrise, long days, the slow rise in temperature and then the summer rains that cool the evenings when the heat gets unbearable. Now that is a fairly pleasant portrayal of summers and one would find such idyllic descriptions in books. Australian summers on the other hand seem to singe a hole in that picture. Perhaps because there is a hole in the ozone layer above this country or perhaps because it is not tropical, but the summers here need getting used to. I say this when I am cosily tucked away in Canberra and wouldn't even dare to look at the temperatures in Perth and Adelaide. The weatherman for the last couple of weeks has been constantly reporting heat waves and hospitalized people.

Summers in India are extreme too,temperatures soaring upto 49 degrees, but back home we combat the heat in many different ways. First of all the food we eat in summers helps us cool the body. Coconut water,melons and "Nongu" (I wonder what this fruit is called in english), methi leaf, buttermilk, lassis, tandais, sugarcane juice and nimbu shikangi are all summer favorites. Australians cool down with a beer. I am not convinced how effective it is but research shows that it rehydrates just as well as water and restores lost calories and considering how popular it is, maybe it really works. For the teetotallers, I suppose water melons and rock melons offer some respite. In India people use umberellas! No one does that here and that would probably be because Australians wait for summers to acquire that envious tan. Even so, it just feels very awkward being the only soul walking down the road holding an umberella. In small towns and villages of India, houses have mud walls and mat curtains that keep the house cooler than any AC here would.

No one knows cottons like we Indians do. Even though the average Indian women is draped with 6 yards of cloth around her, cottons like voil, malmal and khadi form the perferct barrier against the heat and keep the skin cool and breathing. If only the men here knew the comfort of wearing a lungi or veshti, it would have probably become their official summer clothes. We balance out the extremities of the season by using one part of nature against the other.I have yet to figure out nature's own way to beat the summers here and maybe there are many that I am yet unaware of but until then a cold bottle of gatorade under the full blast from the AC will have to do.

India is now very similar to any country abroad. Ofcourse I am not comparing roads, electricity and water availability. I mean a similarity in the sense of what one can get. Most international brands have launched themselves in India and at comparable rates to any international currency. I was really in a dilemma as to what gifts I could take home. Everyone seems to have everything. Malls have mushroomed everywhere in Bangalore and Bvlgari or Prada have become household names. If not the original, most people atleast have a Burma bazaar copy.

I was raised in a middle-class background. During my school and college years, Kids Kemp was the biggest name in town and shopping was generally a tri-annual experience. Once during birthdays, then Pongal and finally Diwali at the end of the year. We never went shopping otherwise. Occasionally, if my mother passed by some handicrafts exhibition she would buy a few pieces of costume jewelry and even that was a big treat. Aunts and Uncles who lived abroad would generously bestow gifts and hand-me-downs to their country relatives whenever they came. And at such moments I would feel like I was Alladin rolling in a treasure cave. If we wanted anything out of the budgetted annual shopping, a long drawn request had to be staged. This outside 'want' had to be logically justified and its importance reiterated. A new dress would never be bought for fashion or because someone on TV wore it. If a new dress adorned the wardrobe outside of its time, it only meant that some other dress was lying in tatters to justify the shopping.

A few years back, someone asked me as I was leaving my apartment if I was going to get some 'Retail therapy' done. It took me a few moments to equate this alien phrase to shopping. How big a part of our lives it has become. All the fashion and art in the world now lies within a few kilometers at the nearest mall. During my school days, we would avidly wait for the 10th board exams to finish because that was when we were eligible for our first wrist watch. It was a greater gift to look forward to than graduating from school or the exam results. The gleam of that first Titan watch would linger before our eyes and pull us through torturous moments of exam preparation. Now, things are different. There are computers available for 2-year olds. Books are interactive;they talk, sing and flash colors at the reader making reading a real-time experience. Shoes for 6 month infants have designer heels on them. The whole shopping experience has now become stratified to suit the needs of every economic group. Noone has to wait or save money to buy what they need. Interests-free loans and pirated, fake products help satiate desires as soon as they spring up.

Is that a good thing, this general abundance and the ability to to get what we want, when we want it? Sometimes I think it is but sometimes I feel it robs the charm of waiting for something special to come by. I don't know how many people from my generation will even remember going through that feeling once. I can say for sure that kids these days will never understand it. There is something very delightful in yearning for what we desire and working towards it, and slowly witness it being fulfilled. It makes what we want more cherishable when we get it. Be it a dress, a holiday, money for an outing with friends, there was always an uncertainity if we would get what we want and when we did, it made the effort of trying and recieving immesely pleasurable. Now things have changed and I can't say that I haven't adapted very well to this instant gratification. In fact I have taken it for granted so much so that I feel it is my birth right to get what I want when I demand it.

Life seemed simple and happy even though everyone couldn't get everything their wished for. Now this plentitude, although very comon and convenient in people's lives, has only created a desire to hoard but not necessarily to cherish. Strange!

Harbor bridge by night and day

Lately my blog has been quite dormant and handicapped leaning on youtube videos and assorted pictures for updates. And this isn't because I don't have anything to say. On the contrary, there is plenty to be said and written about but unfortunbately I just can't seem to put even a few decent words together these days. I think the writer in me (if there was one) has died. A slow, anonymous, sad death. I can say this with confidence because the other day I tried to write a bit about the christmas fair that was going on in the park beneath my flat. The narrative turned out worse than a "What I did last summer" essay written by an uninterested, mediocre school kid. So I abandoned it and instead turned to youtube for safe reinforcement.

Some of the things I wanted to write about was my trip to India last month, movie reviews, another heroic attempt at describing the fair, the christmas holidays that I am looking forward to and some general rambling. I suppose this post could be filed away under the last category. Is it normal to feel choked for words? Even the prepositions and articles seem hard to remember and place. I wonder if established writers hit a deadend too? Perhaps that's when they indulge in solitude and restorative spas pondering on life and other such deep philosophical things. Luckily for them they resurface fully resurrected and in exceptional form to dish out a new best-seller. I, on the other hand, would emerge with a huge credit card balance, associated guilt due to over-indulgence and having forgotten the password to my blog. Hope seems distant and blurry but maybe the new year has some flair to bring. I wait....

Achmed the dead terrorist

One of my all time favorite acts.

I miss...

...my parents
...CUPA
...long gossip sessions with my mother after a relaxed lunch.
...my bike
...the dogs down my road who knew it was me no matter where they were hidden and when I passed by on my bike would all run towards me with such glee!
...eating pani puri at Victoria Chaat House.
...Bangalore traffic (surprisingly)
...my friends back home.
...shopping on Commercial street and getting the best bargains.
...the crowd
...watching a Bollywood movie in a theatre filled with the mawalis of the city sitting in Gandhi class whistling and passing rediculously funny comments on every scene.
...autorickshaws and the fights I used to have with the drivers over the rigged meter and the 2 bucks it charged more.
...Eloor library and the numerous book stores.
...hot idlis and vada at Shanti Sagar.
...national market and its galore of pirated cd's.
...the cafe coffee day outside bombay store.
...malleswaram 8th cross on the eve of a festival.
...the little ganesha temple within our apartment complex.
...home and Bangalore deeply.

Hehehe...

P.S.I love You

This is an extremely touching movie although slightly cheesy around the edges, but not enough to claw on you. It's the universal truth behind those emotions that deeply touch you. The movie opens with a young couple obviously in love fighting over some triviality and like all couples in love, they kiss and make up. Life goes on as normal and theirs is full of ambitions and dreams just like anyone elses. But fate plays a cruel game and Gerry (Gerald Butler) unexpectedly dies of brain tumor and the young widow Holly (Hilary swanks) is plunged into a void. The whole movie is about Gerry's sweet plan to ease Holly's pain and help her move on in life without him.

Every now and then she gets letters written by him before he died. Each letter predicts her state of sorrow and each letter pushes her slowly out of the vaccum. He plans holidays for her. He plans her birthday party. Whatever anyone might say, this movie is more than your regular "chick-flick". There is so much truth in that pain and that emptiness. She carries the urn with his ashes back home after the funeral ceremony and when she eats her breakfast places a bowl of cereal in front of it. She calls his phone again and again just to hear his voice in the answering machine. Sometimes, the silence and that void she feels seeps into you and you feel so helpless for her.

After a year of living alone, one day she realises no matter how much life and living there is to do, she is alone in this. Noone or nothing could replace her Gerry, not her mother or her cheery friends or the classes she frantically enrols in. One day rushing into her mother's store, Holly cries and tell her mother that sometimes the lonliness chokes her so much that she just can't breathe. The thing is she couldn't have put it better. Losing someone we love is such a hopeless, helpless situation. Life freezes with that moment for that person and yet it seems to go on as if nothing happened.

To love someone so much that you would think of them and care and provide them emotional support even after you are gone is such a heartwrenching thought. Aww! I don't care if it just got too cheesy to make some fondue, I loved this movie. Look watch it for Gerald butler if nothing else. He is one hot man worth drooling over.

Houdini, the dog!

Recently I saw this news about a 112 year old war vet who wrote an autobiography. A wrinkled old man, he sits on his wheelchair smartly dressed, looking a little frail yet very respectful. A hundred and twelve years old!!! It boggles the mind. He was born in another century, witnessed two world wars, fought in them and is now slowly passing through an era of cloning and cyber revolution. He has been asked on numerous occasions to reveal the secret of his health and long life. Fed up of the questions, he jests that its due to cigarettes and whiskey! Is time even a dimension for him? I often wonder what it feels like to be that old and live in a world you weren't born in. My grandmother is running strongly in her nineties. She belongs to a India that was pre independance, without electricity and men were men and women had a restricted niche in society. Unlike this war vet who has had an adventurous life brimming with anecdotes and incidents, my grandmother lived a pretty benign life except for a single tragedy that rocked her world. I have never really sat with her and spoken of times that belonged to the same century I was born in and yet doesn't feel a part of my world. I don't know why I haven't. Her life's archeology would be a revelation even if is no telling tale.

Floriade is a tulip festival that blooms every spring in Canberra. People all over the country come to see it. A small public garden gets converted into a sea of multicolored tulips. One saturday afternoon my husband and I went to see it and boy did it feel like something out of a book! The sun was shining bright in the sky, the fountain was shooting happy jets of water in a distance, the air was warm and lulling. There were several tiny tents outside the garden selling everything from seeds, clothes and summer hats, food to garden artifacts and equipments. A narrow pathway opened sudenly into the ocean of flowers. Row upon row of colorful tulips bobbed in that gentle breeze. I have had several occasion in the last one year to say the line "If this isn't nature at its best, then what is?" but nothing seemed more apt than to say it at Floriade! Amidst all the flowers is a small pond glistening in the afternoon sun which adds a wonderful respite to the splash of colors. This is truly a nature lover's paradise.

The news is all abuzz about the crash in the US economy. Debates and discussions are filling up prime time. Many people have unfortunately lost a lot of money from their retirement funds here in Australia. Personally, I find it so hard to understand all this finance, economics and stock market jazz. My husband tried now and then to enlighten me but after a couple of minutes noting the dull glaze over my eyes, he gives up!

To end on a cheery note, I have learnt to make a near perfect risotto and I am proud of it. Gordan Ramsay...I am catching up.

Aled Jones

Aled Jones will be performing in the Canberra theatre soon. The first time I heard of this singer and his soothing voice was on the TV advert. Curious to know more, I started listening to a lot of his songs on youtube. A true talent if I have seen one. He has been singing since the age of 10 or 11. Was famous as a Boy Soprano and a Soloist in a choir. Went on to release countless albums most of which have reached gold or platinum status. His welsh backgroud somehow adds to the mystical quality of his voice. His songs are of the christian devotional/ inspirational genre.

Three of his songs which have become my favorite are Raise me up, Walking in the air and Always there. The first two songs have been sung countless times by different singers and groups. Anyone who barely qualifies to hum a tune has made a cover version of these songs. But Aled Jones versions are magical and captivating. I have heard Nightwish's version of Walking in the air long ago and I thought it was haunting and beautiful. Aled Jones doesn't disappoint either.

This is the link to Raise me up.
The lyrics: When I am down and, oh my soul, so weary;
When troubles come and my heart burdened be;
Then, I am still and wait here in the silence,
Until you come and sit awhile with me.

You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains;
You raise me up, to walk on stormy seas;
I am strong, when I am on your shoulders;
You raise me up: To more than I can be.

There is no life - no life without its hunger;
Each restless heart beats so imperfectly;
But when you come and I am filled with wonder,
Sometimes, I think I glimpse eternity.

You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains;
You raise me up, to walk on stormy seas;
I am strong, when I am on your shoulders;
You raise me up: To more than I can be.

The special part of this song is the chorus. The way Aled sings it, I feel I am on top of the world, strong and grateful, inspired and yet humbled. I would recommend Aled Jones to anyone who wants to listen to some peaceful, flowing, feel good music

And then...

Starbucks closed 61 of its 85 stores all over Australia and those bereaved tapeworms, drat them!!!, closed the one below our house first. Apparently they are running into loses. How do coffee houses run into loses??? What kind of country doesn't let a coffee house flourish?!! Not that I am very fond of coffee....me and that bean haven't had too many err...'stimulating' moments together. No, it's the hot chocolate and rasberry and white chocolate muffins that I am going to sorely miss. I was loyal to them, adding to their profits (or so I assumed) and adding huge calories to my diet (this I know for sure, just ask my waist line!). To cap it, they didn't even announce when they would close, I could have stocked up on those muffins and hot chocolate. Somewhere in the middle of the night, they just bolted and vanished. I am still recovering from the shock.


A huge Olympics fever is rippling through this country. News coverage is massive and thorough. Some channels have even started teaching Chinese. Channel Prime will have exclusive rights to cover the games. Their mascot music is Amy Pearson's 'Ready to fly'. Quite a lovely, upbeat song. Apparently there has been some scams regarding hotel reservations and tickets to China. Some of us were just discussing that had the Olympics been in India, the scams would be the least of the problems. The country would be running a parallel olympics and manufacturing their own gold medals. Seeing sports from different people's point of view and in a different light has been an inspiring experience. What I have learnt is for a lot of people sports isn't just about the game, or winning a medal. It is a lot about strength, courage, humility, staying focussed and determined and continuing to do so even after their goal is achieved. It is a passion and becomes a way of life.


I am desperate! I have started researching ancient civilizations and their cultures to try and understand sun worship. I have been spotted collecting stones hither and tither in the hope of building a sun circle to invite and trap the rays within. I am on the verge of doing Aztec sun dances to please the sun god. Oh! please..when will this winter end?! I have shivered so much this winter that the vibrations have reached interstellar space creating new planets there. (Or maybe I am just shaking so much, that all the stars look double!) I have been following the weather forecasts to its last degree, any rise in temperature has been embraced and cherished. I am like a yeast. I bubble and become more of myself in hot climate. I thrive. Winters sadly shrivel me up.


We watched Kuselan last weekend. The first time I caught a Rajinikanth film on the day of its release. Those expecting something akin to Sivaji will be dissapointed. You will perhaps have to wait till Robot for that. Kuselan is subtle, emotional and low key. It is a remake of a malayalam movie. Rajini shares the film with another actor Pasupathy, who according to me has done a fabulous job. The film oozes simplicity and normality. There are no extraordinary sets or digital enhancements. The film runs solely on the buttress of a simple yet elegantly told story.


And finally I end this update with a mail my husband sent me. We laughed for hours over this.