tag 15 - secrets

Lekhni tagged me with this “list 10 secrets about yourself“. I read hers and a few others and it was pretty much writing about oneself. Secretive or not depends on how open a blog one runs. Now, considering how fondly am referred to as an ‘open book/blog’, I was stumped. What more could I dig up about me that would hold a minute’s attention and not bring a yawn on the reader?

So I debated in my head on the whole tagline of this tag. So, jobless me one day decided to backtrack one route of the tag, by hopping from one taggee to the tagged and see where it goes. Guess what I disocvered? The fact remains that the word “secret” got tagged on along the way! Guess there are more freestylers around that I gave credit for. That is so what I’d do. Just to make folks talk I suppose. See how daring one can go.

Are you gonna tell us about your past loves, the time when you actually got caught for cheating, the jilted lovers or how about when you purposely sneezed into your sworn enemy’s food. Oo, how about the time when you spread that nasty rumor on that school friend who stole your position in the basketball team, or better yet the one time when you kissed your best friend’s boyfriend and pretended to care when you are hi-fi’ing yourself secretly or the time when you actually told your parents you were studying at a friends and ran off to watch the latest matinee, or something more naughty?

See, juicy? Very.

This is the kind people want to hear. Right? I know I would. Why’d anyone care if you liked M Rafi over Mukesh or if you grind your teeth when you sleep, or if you like french fries with mustard, or you read the last page of a magazine first? (I do, btw).

Nice, but ordinary. Don’t you think?

Now that I’ve set high expectations, it’s time to bring them crashing down. *wicked evil laugh*

I’ve done a few wild stuff back in the day when the repercussions couldn’t stretch too far and the only person I was answerable to or responsible for were, well, me. I now think back of all the capabilities I secretly hold within me and I occasionally feel twinges of self-pity, but definitely more relief as one can only shudder in horror where and how’d have landed if my parents had given me that freedom. Yes, that’s the kind of faith I have over my decisions!

I really did wish for this tag to be where I could teeter on the line and say it all, but I realize my readership’s increasing and some silent readers could very well be folks who may not look too kindly on my antics. So what do I do with this tag? (I know, ain’t I the girl scout trooper here, taking everything so seriously?! It’s a bane I tell ya.) So, this is how I plan on doing it. I shall tell you something about me, and then I shall take it a step further and tell you secrets I hold within me. These are not necessarily about me, but they are secrets alright. No, am not gossiping, and in any case, if you the reader do not know the person I talk about, it isn’t gossiping. I don’t have a name for it yet, but I surely know it ain’t gossip (and I am sticking to it!).

So, here you go. Remember they are secrets, so shhh:

1. I once bullied this guy on the phone. It was a prank that 2 of my friends and I put together. The said boy was a dork. He bugged us constantly. He kept telling us how he was handsome and a local Romeo and how all girls swooned over him when he, get this, biked (as in cycled)to school. Yeah. So, after a few months of this listening, one of my friends got so riled up and said, let’s play a prank. I ofered to be the voice behind this Juliet who would call him up and tell him how cute and smart he was and then ultimately when he was smitten with Juliet, we’d spill the beans. We were in 8th grade, and it went well. Afterawhile bullying came naturally to me. I was a bully in hiding. Such glee and pleasure I got out of the daily calls. Especially more so when he’d come to us later and with a pompous air declare how he had snagged a Juliet. was so much fun till I grew a conscience. No fun after that. Juliet stopped the calls and she slept better at nights. What an idiot eh?

No one need feel bad for the guy. He I believe married a gorgeous Sindi girl and is now father of twins. I wonder of course what that girl saw in him, but the saying love is blind didn’t just come out of thin air.

2. Was riding back home mid-afternoon once (must have been in 10th grade or so) and I saw my neighbor uncle do some major hand gesturing across the road. Tilt my head and I see this maid/nanny lady in the house across also similarly gesticulating. My very fertile imagination leaped with this spark. The uncle saw me and immediately grinned sheepishly and turned away. That further added chapters to my story.

3. I once tried shoplifting when I was 8 or so. I desperately wanted a set of some fancy colored bobbypins and mom refused. So as she stood and haggled with the pavement fellow regarding something else, I picked these up and held them in my hand, within my fist. The guy looked at me and shook his head. I slowly put it back turning very red in face. Thank heavens he was discreet and didn’t tell my mom. I swear I’d be walking around with a gollywog sorta hairdo with an inherent scare towards anything named ‘pin’.

4. A childhood buddy of mine recently got in touch. Last I knew he married this another friend of ours who was sufficientlys enior to him, married with a kid. Husband had passed away in the military. Commendable, noble gesture and the thing is, I know he truly loved her. Felt very happy. Then out of the blue he starts fessing up to me. He and wife indulge in menage a trois with a rotating 3rd participant. Was a little disconcerting, but as long as they are happy, who was I to judge. He assures me it’s a common happening in India, and I shouldn’t live such a sheltered life staying so far away from deep-rooted cultural restrictions. Ohkayy!

5. Since gas prices are hitting the roofs, I have started filling regular instead of premium into the Acura. Figured I was saving money. Till again, like an idiot, I casually told the husband and got an earful on how I was messing up his car and the performance and the engine’s getting busted etc etc and then he sat me down and did the math. For $1.40 I wasn’t exactly saving the world, the car or our savings. I filled premium this morning. (This was a secret till a few days ago when I got admonished for it.)

6. There was this girl who cheated on her Math exam for her 10th grade board exams. She and the girl sitting in front of her exchanged notes, formulae and read off each other’s papers. I sat in the row next to them and was really upset about it. Especially considering math wasn’t my forte and why should anyone else get more just by copying. Sometimes I wonder why I didn’t rat on them. A few years ago, I heard she was paying taxes on her million dollar home in Palo Alto. Ah well, all those formulae must’ve worked well.

7. I was recently told that if one had a mole on one’s body that one couldn’t see directly but only through a mirror, it was meant to bring fortune. I have a few. Moles, that is. Fortune, am still waiting.

8. I once cut my own hair. I was perhaps, 10 or so, and I hated how my coconut stringy tight curls weren’t as pretty as Pamela’s or Sheetal’s. So in an attempt to look cute, I cut a few stray strands up front in the hope of them magically becoming straight bangs and I’d do a swoosh like them or the female in the LUX or some such ad. Did I say my hair’s curly? Yeah, so you know what happened. Got yelled at nicely and had to further anoint my head with more coconut oil than in the Nadar shop till those strays grew back.

Quite sure I had read the abridged version of Mill on the Floss recently.

9. I can take some pretty mean self-portraits with my itty bitty camera, that have been put to some rather good use meant only for one pair of eyes. Not elaborating further in case I incriminate myself.

10. I secretly think I look like a one-eyed witch in my profile picture.

No more secrets. Am exhausted!

So who’s gonna do a brave tag, and not chicken out by just telling us your favorite authors, foods, or movies? Wait, let me tag:

Altoid, Archana, Booboosmom, Neha, Terri, Lakshmi, SB, Shmetterling, Pavan, Adithya.

 

trav(w)ails

Thought process before embarking on a long trip:

• Sit up late into the night downloading songs that you arent sick of listening within a minute. The ultimate scare of 10 hours of silence broken only by the incessant “nagging” / questioning from Munchkin would be the ultimate motivator.

• The above task of downloading made easy as everything you listen to sounds new. New doesn’t necessarily mean nice.

• Hindi is relatively easy and sticking to the language would be awesome. Until sudden realization that I have the ultimate critic in dad. Debate. hesitate. Decide. No matter what songs, unless they are sung by BMK or Ghantasala or SPB, dad would’nt be a happy camper anyway. Decide to unearth some black and white DVD’s.

• Daughter decides to take her closet with her. Sadly, she was brought down quick to the ground with doing simple math learnt long ago in kindergarten, and the days of the week count.

• Have no idea why I started cleaning out the basement. Found some treasures. Relics that were once thought of as treasures and now wree stared at wondering why those were saved ever in the first place.

• Dry wall dusting collecting over my hair, arms, legs, pants and behind. A geisha would probably want to run and powder her face a little more.

• Sending son camping seemed more traumatic and stressful than sending a daughter to her in-laws claimed the dad. Well, seven days and six nights is no joke, and all the unsettling stories about insect bites, pottying in the wild, open showers, throwing 11-12 year old boys into ponds lakes with slimy slithering creatures as they make a makeshift floater with their shirt and pants. Yes, the ones they are in when they are pushed into the water. I am glad I wasn’t born a boy. The daughter agrees.

• Munchkin changed in and out of 11 dresses. 6 came from her grandmom, and 5 from older sister’s hand-me-downs. She was delighted to have found the vault of colorful dresses. I had no idea I saved them all. I had no idea why I saved them all. Sure, they are pretty, but still?!

• If anyone’s thinking am a hoarder, I would gently ask you to tilt your neck to the far end of the basement. IIT Kgp’s stamped notes and text books along with U of Alabama’s tomes lay in a few boxes turning yellow. Not a soul’s to lay hands on them. In contrast I have just 2 containers. Filled to the brim and the writing’s too round and cute for my own comfort.

• Discovered my 12th grade ( senior year ) white uniform scribbled all over with love, goodbyes and sayings from classmates of ‘88. Wow. Brought some fine memories back, along with trying to explain to the guffawing tweens why we wrote over our white uniforms and didn’t just have year books like them. Bah. Like they’d understand?

• Mom’s plotting to watch Maya Bazaar, while munchkin’s swearing by Shrek, and daughter is eyeing Harry Potter, but is inclined to Spidey. What do I care? I will be devouring Hungry Tide even before we hit the first pit stop.

• Have a birthday celebration every day till we leave sister’s. Way too many gifts to think of. Figured will deal with it once I get there. I really need to learn to not stress over the “perfect” gift. I know for a fact my mouth’s gonna be hurting by the time am back.

• Am tired and sore, my legs and back hurt. I still have to find that button down tight shirt that the son will be wearing before he makes a life saving device out of it. And here I am blogging about it all. See how much I care!

Toodles all, enjoy your weekend and hope the sun’s not too harsh on you, wherever you are. If i get lucky, I may just enjoy my vacation.

..and o, I plan on piercing my nose. Why? Coz my nose is lacking attention it deserves. I mean, it just occupies like say a thrid of my face, so why not add a shiny 3-d on it and see if it occupies the whole of it. Yeah? Yeah. Any kindred soul, say a prayer for me. The date is set for July 2nd me thinks. Am at the mercy of my sister, so we’ll see how much she manages to make me look like a maami from Ayodhya Mandapam in West Mambalam. (We actually have a wiki entry for Mambalam?! I am shocked!)

That moonu kallu mookuthi is resounding in my ears. Go Maamis! Go Mommies.

 

good lord

My darling, sweet and wonderful daughter celebrates a birthday, and I officially have become a mother of a teen.

Yikes! Gasp!

Okay Okay, no dramas.

***

Dear daughter,

I have to start by telling you that you make me and your dad look good, with no effort of ours absolutely.

You came into my clueless life as a charming precocious little thing, and I must admit I learn more from you everyday than the other way. Thank you for putting up with my whims and fancies, for being the stable and grounded personality that our family needs. Your dad and I knew from the time we laid our eyes on you at Edith Cavell, that you’d be our beacon, our joy and most definitely our favorite. Just don’t tell that to your brother or sister.

Today is just a formality, an initiation into youth as the world likes to mark it, but elegance has always been you, something which you carry with you as a part of you. When folks affirm to me and dad what we already know but still find it hard to fathom considering you were born to us, it makes us beam, and swell with pride. You bring tears of joy to our eyes, and my throat chokes with the intensity only you can bring in me, when we see you on stage with the flute, dancing, making that 3 point shot, when you fight with great animosity with your brother as you claim your right, even when you argue and stomp off from us.

Thank you for being the responsible daughter, for being a wonderful big sister, a hardworking student and a real trooper. You are as resilient as they come, and may God give you more strength, wisdom and the forethought that comes with intelligence in the years to come by. God knows and we all do too, the next few years would be the most exciting yet the toughest that you will ever face. Creating an identity that you are happy with and accepting it enough to bring you deep sleep at night. I want you to know that we will be there for you through this time, and wish you would let us be your struts as you make it on your own.

I just went up and saw you tucked in your bed and the excitement of turning 13 is palpable in the room. I’d wanted to get you that Tom Brady jersey you wanted but the darn stores didn’t carry them and you know how prepared I am. Sorry.

I remember how at DSW, armed with 4 pairs of shoes (the most you’d ever bought at one shot and what funky ones too!), the grin on your face as you squealed and jumped with joy at the displays, and the number of times you told me “Mom, this place is so cool! ” and “Why didn’t I come here before?” and “please can you bring me here before school starts?” - to see you as a wild unfettered child was pure joy. For most of the time you behave, think and act on the maturity that our head somehow manages to churn. My eyes filled with tears and I beamed with pride when you so responsibly told me “mom, remember the jersey I wanted, it’s okay now, I have these shoes, I don’t want it.”, as we were walking out after having spent triple digits on the shoes by the arm loads. Oh okay, you got 4 pairs and I got 2, but still!

In any case, I swear to you, no 12-13 year old in her right frame of mind would ever say what you did. I know your brother won’t and most definitely not munchkin. She’s such a demanding little princess!

May all the world’s happiness be yours, as you most certainly deserve it.

Love,

Mom.

ps: sorry about your snap and the way your eyes shine. No, I didn’t do it on purpose, it’s the iPhoto’s editing software and yes, you look perfect, and no, am not saying that coz am your mom. Okay, Go have the cake in the refrigerator, yes it’s chocolate with strawberry mousse. You welcome. :-)

 

tag 14 - you want more?

A Muser tagged me. Again! Looks like I am her favorite person to tag as I must promptly be doing her tags under the pretext of not having blog material, but see the secret is tags are easy material.

I could very well write about the really intense heat that had us stifling, gasping like fish in a dried pond, and about the fact that I roasted myself in a silk sari sitting in a sweltering noisy auditorium, surrounded by disrespectful, loud, impolite desi janta, and about how some idiot brat pulled the fire alarm and made us evacuate and stand for 35 minutes in the 105 weather with 90% humidity until my $40 smooth haircut turned worse than what I’d look if I had a bunch of crazed kittens were let loose on me.

I can also write about how I made a 5 quart bowl of sambar for another annual day event Sunday where again little girls are let loose with absolutely no respect or regard or consideration for folks watching or filming the performances. Seriously, what is with kids these days? More so, what’s wrong with parents, especially moms? No, am serious, some of the women behave like it isn’t their kid at all, while the dad at least pretends to discipline the kid! What’s wrong with the lady who sat next to me allowing her toe-stamping daughter to toe-stamp me every single time - after 6 I lost track - by walking in and out of her seat, while my munchkin sat still enjoying the dances. No, am not saying mine’s the best, but she sure made me proud behaving as I had told her. After awhile I just about had it with this kid and told the mom to hold onto her, and it really wasn’t acceptable to keep doing this. She looked reasonably upset. I pushed past her and occupied her hsuband’s seat while the man took off elsewhere. Now the daughter could toe-stamp her mom for all I care.

I could also write about how the noble king did a valiant attempt at MCing the show. No, he did fine. Except when he started speaking in a language no one could understand. It was cute and novel and the point he was trying to make sailed through just fine within minutes of the evening. Then every few items later, just as a apprentice magician would pull rabbits out of a seemingly innocuous black hat, or even better yet, how the dwindling woebegone sad performances have halftime shows that no one understands or gets or cares to understand or get, he’d have a 2-3 folks dialoging away. Sure, I understood, and so did the husband, but I wasn’t quite sure what the purpose of it all was. Coz, if folks laughed politely, it was more so coz of the gist of what happened over the span of 3 minutes, more than the word comprehension. The guy’s passion is praiseworthy, but as I tried telling him, unless channeled and channeled with the right force and direction, efforts are wasted. Then again, maybe he knows something I don’t.

Oh yes, I swore am never participating in the annual event again, coz if there was an award for the most ridiculously organised evening, the place would have snapped it up without a blink. The height of it all was when dutiful male volunteers stood outside the cafeteria like bouncers outside bars (not that an average desi man could ever pass off as a bouncer unless I was a frail midget, which am not) and ensured that only children according to age, baby children with moms and then moms were allowed to step inside and make a meal out of two dishes. Men were made to stand outside, and were to be allowed inside only after the “the fairer sex” and children were done filling their sacks. This happened as a sudden dawning when some men as a natural line went on ahead anyways. My already frayed patience was torn to shatters after 15 minutes of this circus and I went up to the self-crowned chief volunteer and asked him why men were’nt allowed in?

To which, with a sheepish grin he replied “I don’t make the rules ma’am, let the kids and women eat first!”

Excuse me but which era are we living in? For a second I thought perhaps we were re-enacting the scene of the sinking of the Titanic! I made my displeasure known, and am quite sure I’ve been nicked a few not-so-pleasant monikers. O well.

I also think heat and temperature smokes the Ms. Hyde in me out.

Phew! ..and there’s still so much more to tell! All this happened the weekend of 7th. In a striking contrast June 13-14 was plain awesome. More on that later.

Where were we? O the tag. Yes, here we go. Sorry about the digression Muser, but certainly I needed to provide some entertainment via the sorry social life I lead or this tag would just put folks to death. I mean, what more could I pull up from within I wonder..

***

I am: a rainbow.
I think: in bright bold colors.
I know: there exist different shades of one color.
I want: to be painted in all.
I have: been lucky to be washed by many.
I wish: I could touch more of those illlusionary hues.
I hate: not being able to explain to others the colors I see.
I miss: the innocence of pink.
I fear: an achromate.
I feel: fresh blue droplets around me.
I hear: the sneaky wisps of gray waiting to crown me.
I smell: the crisp tartness of tangerine closing in on me.
I crave: the fresh taste of spring green.
I search: for yellow sunflowers/ dandelions everywhere.
I wonder: if all can experience the clarity of clear.
I regret: gray once pulled me down more than it should have.
I love: black and white and everything in between.
I ache: to feel red.
I care: for every bit of the spectrum.
I am not: an achromate.
I believe: we should move towards “going green”.
I dance: like a sundrop in June.
I sing: when am washed in azure.
I cry: when I see crimson in big fat drops.
I don’t always: like white.
I fight: for black.
I write: in the color of my mood.
I win: in shades of royal purple.
I lose: in shades of earthy brown.
I never: can imagine gray in my closet.
I always: buy more white.
I confuse: folks. Their perceptions of me change colors constantly.
I listen: to my passionate ruby-red heart more times than my clear mind.
I can usually be found: dreaming in pastels and red in turn.
I am scared: of washing the orange away.
I need: my white space around me.
I am happy about: the hues am made of.

***

The tag shall henceforth be passed on to

Kiddo, BPSK (anyone know where he is?), Amrita, Pavan (Another one MIA for awhile!) and booboosmamma

 

a crystal day

Remembering the firsts:

conversation and nod

smile, a consequent blush

holding hands

the excited flow of words

the rush of the emotion

the silence in between

the kiss as a man and wife

and the love that held it all.

15 years ago this day

seems like yesterday.

 

tag 13 - bookworm

Just about the time when I was wondering what I would write on, not that I lack on ideas or stuff to work on, but more so on the mood of the post, A Muser tagged me moments ago.

So with all acknowledgments in place, and since this is a tag that encourages folks to pick up another book and read and not to mention the fact that am reading a fine book, I figured, no time like the present to work on the post. Also, I’ve eaten 1/2 sleeve of crackers with spinach dip and hunger pangs are at bay and what with dinner on the stove, I have a few moments before I go running off to the daughter’s chamber Concert.

The rules:

Pick up the nearest book.
Open to page 123.
Find the fifth sentence.
Post the next three sentences.
Tag five people, and acknowledge the person who tagged you

Well, nearest book is a floor upstairs but anything for a good book, so here is the book.

“Tamarind Woman” By Anita Rau Badami (yes, the very same book you see at the top). Ive read this before - a few years before and all I remembered was that it was fascinating, so here I am reading it again. This time enjoying the nuances too..

As we grew older, I stopped trying to show Roopa the hidden worlds that seethed beneath the surface of the ordinary, for it seemed that she had , in her mind, closed the doors that opened into imagination. If she could not see a purple rose on a bush or a peacock on the front lawn, she declared, it couldn’t possibly be there.

“I have rubbed the peel of a ripe Nagpur orange on this card” wrote Ma. “Right now it smells as fresh and tangy as the fruit itself. I hope the smell has not faded by the time the card reaches you. And if it has, all you have to do is imagine.”

I obviously don’t know how to count as I managed to type more than the tag asked me to, but hey, a little insight and some amount of marketing for the book didn’t hurt anyone. It’s a fine book folks, read it if you can.

This time, deviating from the norm of not tagging folks, I shall OD on tagging and here are my 5, of each!

1. Gradwolf

2. Baphomet

3. Anantha

4. Psyriac

5. Naren

6. Sush

7. A-Kay

8. Neha

9. Laksh

10. Mystic Margarita

There, feeling very smug. Now who’s gonna beat me in the turnover rate of doing a tag? *grin