17 years without you…

Dear Ippappa ( That’s how I addressed my grandfather)

Its been 17 years since you left us. I had known you only for 6 years of my life, yet I never connected with any other grandparent as much as I did with you. Maybe, I was too young and innocent to love you without being judgmental about what you did or said and I am glad it had to be that way. Coz, there are very few people in my life like that whose fallacies ( if at all there were any), I refuse to believe.

Your little girl is all grown up now. No longer the carefree bird whose only motive in life was to escape Amma’s scoldings after rolling in the mud. Today, even if I fall in deep shit, both of us (amma and me )know the scoldings aren’t going to make any difference. Its upto me to take responsibility for my actions or suffer the consequences.

In a few weeks time, I will be embarking on a career path which was not even there when I was charting out a roadmap of my future. But, as they say everything happens for a reason. These 17 years have been too long and whatever happened in between, some have just vanished, some memories are blurring, some things I don’t want to remember and some moments I desperately, cling on to, never letting them go.

Each passing year, your death anniversary fell around the same time that I had my exams. A Mass in your remembrance, sparing a few thoughts for you that day was the custom. Gradually, you started fading away from my life. Even though your photo hung on the wall opposite to the entrance of our home, with time it just became one of the stationary objects hung on the wall. Life was taking its own course, I got carried away. Death… strange how passage of time, manages to convert the sense of an irreparable loss to a mere disappearance. But then, those hard hitting moments came about, when you were the one I needed the most.

Each visit to your house reminded me of your absence and the distance it created. Initially, I was saddened wondering why was this happening. And then, as I grew up, as the picture became clearer there are moments when I actually thought,’ I am glad you are not there to see all this happening’. How could people determine a price for your ‘sweat’ or rather the fruits of it? That too, people who never really mattered.

The day you left, I never knew life was going to be so tangled up. I have survived so far and I know somewhere you’ve been watching over me.

Tears are welling up, my heart feels heavy. Words wouldn’t justify what I really want to tell you.

I can’t really claim I am happy about the person I have become, I do not know whether I’ve met the expectations you had from me, I do not know if I’ll ever be someone like you. But, I was blessed enough to have YOU as my grandfather.

Childhood misconceptions- a tag

I was pulling my hair out in frustration staring at legal texts and decided to give it a break. Nothing can be more relaxing than random bloghopping, skimming through posts and then coming across something that really strikes you. I discovered Pepper’s post this afternoon and this is a very interesting tag. I’m not waiting for the niceties of being tagged and all that.

Here goes, my list of childhood misconceptions

1) Babies are made only when thunder strikes

Bollywood movies are to blame for this. A guy and a girl in a room, lightning and thunder, the girl gets scared, hugs the guy and lights go off. Next scene in the ‘lady doctor’s clinic’ where the lady says, ‘Aap Ma bannevaali hai’. There must have been a zillion scenes like this in every Hindi movie those days.

2) How will I die

I always feared I’ll die coz of a lethal  snakebite. My ancestral home in Trichur is located in what was once a ‘Sarpakaavu’ and some ruthless older cousins made me believe that I live under the curse of the snake gods or something.

3) Lump sum grant- They determine whether you are SC/ST through blood tests

Once in a while, the peon used to call out the names of certain students and send them to the School Office to collect what was called the lump sum grant. It was the fancy name that caught my attention first. On further prodding, Amma told me it is given to people who belong to SC/ST. She had no way of explaining what that meant to a 7 year old. And my next doubt was, do they determine whether one is SC/ST through blood tests?

4) Nuns were the wives of priests

5) Bangarappa was a superhero

S.Bangarappa was the CM of Karnataka in the early 90s. His name was sprawled all across the newspapers and television and my little brain actually deciphered that, he was someone who had come to save the world.

I’m leaving this tag open to anybody who wants to do it. Walk down the memory lane once again and amuse yourself

Someday you’ll laugh over the tears you shed

As I opened the door and saw the familiar faces, at a familiar place, a strange heaviness gripped my heart.

******

Few years ago, on a cold winter night, as I cried myself to sleep, I had resolved… Never again will I let anyone do this to me. Somewhere, I had forgotten to draw the line between concern, friendship and trust. I was made to feel like a sore loser for what I did. I couldn’t find fault with me. Well, none of us can find fault with ourselves and the mighty ego doesn’t let us accept our mistakes. Maybe, that inherent nature of human psyche has left its traces in my reluctance too. Making my life an open book scripted by me, didn’t mean I would let others scribble on it. I do agree to a certain extent I was wrong, but I was not the only one in the whole act.

Time flew by, the faces were mere kbs in my online existence. A hi/hello conversation, random updates in wall posts and I used to burn within. Those reminiscing posts, the dangerous side of nostalgia, the very people you thought would be there for you no matter what… At that time, life didn’t throw so many lemons at me to realize that these are all overrated, a part of life where traces of teenage foolishness remain.

*******

For a few seconds that dreadful night played in my head all over again. And then I saw those faces smiling at me in welcome. The years transpired into thin air as I took each step forward but the heaviness remained. Was it all so easy to forget and forgive, does time really heal? I guess it does. Rather, it teaches you to be indifferent in a way.

We hugged mocking fun at that artificial gesture our alma mater had imbibed in us ( the irony of it), exchanged pleasantries and I was transported back in time where I had left it back then. Maybe, I should have made some effort on my part shedding those layers of ego and trying to make amends. Or maybe, it wasn’t worth it.

Sometimes, the wait is worth it. Time is a beautiful healer. Life is such a sweet bitch. As many lemons as it throws, it also throws lemons at others. It then gives you that rare sadistic opportunity to tell the skeletons and vamps of the past, ‘ I told you so’  :). Growing up is a painful process, the gamut of  expanding human relationships doesn’t make it any easier. Friends, their significant others, friends’ friends… the web keeps expanding with each passing year and the complications become exponential.  Though it had been a bitter phase for each one of us, we all had our own lessons to learn from them.

PS: Was going through my archives and I realized how time can be a beautiful healer though the scars are left behind.

In retrospect

Sometimes, reacting at the spur of the moment

Makes you say things, you’d regret forever

Makes you do things which you don’t want to do…

Makes you write things which  you wish could be erased…

Makes you feel so guilty about things you did, things you said and also about things you didn’t do.

A little deliberate effort could have amended it all, yet sometimes we choose not to.

As the year comes to a close, it is an ideal time for reflection and retrospection. Make amends, apologize and move on.

The last post thus, deserves to be deleted. Too much negativity getting into me. Its not at all good especially at this time of the year. Now that the blood sucking exams are almost done I think I’ve regained senses. Nah, me thinks it was a sudden bout of ADD

Sometimes, I wish certain things in life could be ctrl+z ed too. Why is the human mind so encapsulated in the conflict between emotions and reason?

Lesson learnt: It is not necessary to blog about everything and anything.

Protected: Random Rant

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Rant

I need to do this or else I’ll end up hurling abuses at people in my growth and development paper tomorrow. Questions on critically examine ‘x’ s theory ( note: x=43 in this case..43 theories.. KILL ME) will be answered as Ricardo was out of his mind or Tobin himself had no clue what he was talking about. Anyways, there are only three kinds of people in this planet earth who bring out the worst in me.

1) Auto drivers

2) College and a few people associated with it

3)  Right now every person who formulated a growth theory to make my life miserable. Rather the University people who included all this in our syllabus which is pointless.

All I can think of critically examining is ‘its useless, meaningless, pointless, worthless’. With due respect to all the economists, I have to confess, seriously I don’t understand why their research got so much recognition ( in our syllabus) when it holds no value in the current world. As I’ve mentioned in my previous blog, I’m sure these growth economists were venting their personal egos rather than doing original research. That reminds me that I don’t understand their fascination with the word ‘vulgar’. While criticizing each other, every other person’s theory happens to be a ‘vulgar’ theory according to them. Speaking of the interesting usage of words by Economists this one takes the cake. Ms.Joan Robinson and her ‘ Bastard golden age’. I’m in love with this lady. Of the very few lady economists I know, she is one with lot of guts. Her writings and open criticisms makes me go :O

Now, I wouldn’t have hated these growth theorists if not for my Lect. This person stays 10 miles away from anything that has got mathematical equations in it and thus, a major portion of our syllabus was left for self-study coz we aren’t supposed to be spoon-fed at PG level. What a dumb excuse. For people like me who survive only on class lectures and hate to read anything that has to do with the course subject, this is torture.

The other day I just realized how ‘hypocritical’ people in my college are. My college happened to be my centre for this particular exam I was writing and I was shocked to see the happenings there. Since, I remain invisible in that place especially with my obsessive bunking disorder, these people didn’t recognize me (luckily). The dedication and sincerity with which they were ushering people, showing directions… the wholehearted service left me in tears. One person was kind enough to show me the very classroom where I shuttle up and down everyday I college. Sigh

The tears turned into exasperation  when I had to travel for 2 hours and wait for the’ HALL TICKET’, right on the day before the exam ( today). And, they treat us like some third rate citizens.  Not that I’d have spent those hours in ‘productive activities’ but I could’ve spent that time to finish a few more pages of ‘Godfather’. It keeps me sane.

The worst part of it all was the decision to hire an auto to get back. The bloody jerk had a dysfunctional meter and had the nerve to ask me for extra bucks. I just paid the exact amount and scooted from the place after screaming at him. He almost knocked down a girl in a scooty and fled from the place. Contrary to my ‘why chumma get into trouble attitude’ today my temper was so high that I shouted at him for that too. I’m glad I did that. My troubles with auto drivers here never seem to end.

Anyhow, some days are just meant to be like this and I post stuff that makes people think I’m a misanthrope. Can’t complain, can I?

So where did I begin. Ya.. growth and development. Time to cram useless stuff and answer questions like ‘what was Smt.Joan Robinson’s contribution to theory of capital accumulation’. Smt.Joan Robinson? Seriously? reinforces my belief that our university murders Economics and Economists.

The birthday of the self-obsessed

Happy Birthday to Me!!!

(this was my b’day cake last year! Dunno why those co-intern googlers missed the M)

hope this does the part of showing off on your b’day

Thank you God, for everything !!!

Thank you for giving me all those wonderful people around me, who touched my life in some or the other way. People who made me realize the person I am, for making me feel special, who have seen me grow, who have always been there for me and who taught me valuable lessons for the past 20 years. I’m actually running short of words on this day!

(I have my exams going on, which is diverting my creative juices into other channels.. hope to be back soon)

The 5 Step Anger therapy

I took this tag from Jina and as she said, this is a real therapy! I found the tag just at the right time when I was in one of those I want to tear the world apart, I’m so frustrated…moods

Disclaimer: Views expressed in the tag are particularly pointed at certain people around me. I am sure you do pop-in here to enquire about my dire-straits (you wished!)… I hope you get the message at least from this…
And people who don’t know me… This blog is something like my personal diary.

The rules are simple – you just need to list 5 categories of people whom you hate and why.

1. Stupid or rather silly girls…despo’s should be a better word.

Though this statement slanders my own species, I can’t help it. Few of them come across as really desperate girls. Trust me, I found many characters like this…they give their hearts out ( the brain goes as a free offer), blabber about how beautiful it is when you are in love, things go wrong after sometime..then it’s the mending a broken heart phase till they fall for another eye-candy.
They just can’t get their priorities right! I strongly feel girls like this are an insult to womanhood. I hold a strong contempt against girls who choose to end their lives for the sake of a failed relationship. Who is more important? A random guy you know for a few years or months OR your parents who have been with you throughout?

2. People who can’t think beyond “I-me-myself”

A life worth living, only for yourself is totally meaningless. I can’t stand people who live in total oblivion as if nothing else matters but, them. Human nature has selfishness inherent in it, but when it crosses limits, it annoys me. I wouldn’t ask people to be saintly and all that, but even when it comes to your immediate significant others, friends, neighbours… some amount of concern would make things much better.

3. People who make me feel the relation I share with them is an obligation… be it friendship, an acquaintance or familial ties. I think that states the obvious and no explanations are required here.

4. People who take advantage of my submissiveness or silence. Some people think they can trample upon me like a door-mat and have their way. I think I myself am to blame for this situation , but I really hate people who know this and take me for granted. I’ve experienced this more at the hands of close friends and relatives who know that, I can’t say a NO to them.

5. The blame-gamers

It is always easy to blame others. Even though you realize you’re wrong, you’re in a desperate attempt to find the smallest of reasons, where you can pass on the blame to others… But, how long will you lie to yourself or your conscience?

Take this up when you’re in a really bad mood! It helps… cheers.

Another Journey in Life

Long directionless post ahead!

Alarmed by the fact that my dad’s pot-belly is shrinking and that I am growing side-ways during the vacation, mom packed me off to good old Trivandrum. Post jinxed era, dad is here all alone, cooking by himself and reliving his good old bachelor days.
Another reason cited was, mom wants me to cook for dad and avoid certain consequences in the future like,
Face the wrath of my future Mother-in-law coz Mummy didn’t teach her daughter cooking…
Worried that daughter may not be able to find her way to a man’s heart through his stomach…
Fearing that her daughter’s face will be disfigured if, daughter tests her culinary skills on her husband…
And post-retirement, she doesn’t want me sticking around after a divorce and 4-5 kids to look after.
With a dozen Five-year plans lined up, happily I embarked upon the journey to Trivandrum.
Carelessness and I are inseparable. Even after Dr.AJ’s continuous, everlasting and persistent efforts, she hasn’t been successful in detaching us. This time around I forgot to take my toothbrush. So also, I created confusion with the coach numbers. I accept it’s my mistake, but you know, mothers of 20 something’s can’t stand carelessness for the obvious reasons. She was furious and gave me those stares, which sent a chill down my spine. I always get these chills; from that very day she screamed at me and spanked me for trying to climb the iron railings in our balcony on the 3rd floor of the quarters. Numerous incidents of spanking to scolding to stare-and-scare (you just can’t ignore those meaningful looks moms give, can you?) followed till date, many of which I conveniently chose to forget (a reason for them continuing).
Just like the ticket in waiting list got confirmed, God decided to hear my prayers this time, which was to have some sane and interesting co-passengers. It’s always been nuns or sabarimala pilgrims or some sidey guys or Fraud ‘Fraud Mallus’ who wouldn’t open their mouths but exhibit in full-swing what is known as attitude or jaada in simple terms.
There was this old-couple who shed all inhibitions and smiled at me and we gelled along really well. The Old lady, was a teacher who had resigned, to take care of her grandchildren in Bangalore. Her techie kids had no other option. I adore those kids for the grand-parental attention they get. But, further into the conversation, perceptions changed and she was telling me about how, the kids are going to be admitted to school this year and how lonely she is gonna be, in a strange city and all those worries which affect a grandmother alas babysitter role.
As we were deeply immersed in the tete-a-tete, a young couple entered. Obviously techies, newly married on a journey to Kerala. This answered the prayers for interesting co-passengers, coz sane people ain’t that interesting!. In a desperate attempt to conceal their evidently mallu looks ( the epidemic which is rampant), the funny glasses and straightened hair beyond expiry date, which resembled coconut husk were an interesting sight. After the initial PDA’s which embarrassed the elderly couples and interested singles out singles like me, the girl settled down with a book, cuddling up to her spouse.
The guy was bored and was looking around the lush greenery in adjacent seats that wouldn’t escape his wandering eyes. The girl would look up every 5 minutes and ask,” hey, what are you doing”.
Either the book was boring, or the girl understood her naughty man’s antics, soon both were whispering and giggling like the silly college girls. The only statement that was loud enough for all of us to hear was, ” Ho AC was much better” . I guess every train traveller does that, to glorify AC compartment when they travel in a Sleeper.
Soon, I got bored of them and my eyes fell on it. I’d missed it for 4 months straight and this was one of the initial indicators to enlighten me, that I’m actually going home. Malayala Manorama contains good gossip and useless yet interesting news. I had this habit of reading only the obituary page, ever since I learnt to read Malayalam, though gradually the other pages apart from the one with passport size photographs interested me. Some of the interesting news I found were
* Mohanlal pinmaaranam. ( Mohanlal has to withdraw from the fire-escape magic act or whatever)
* Pashu maala vizhungi, shastrakriyayiloode puratheduthu. ( A cow which had swallowed a gold chain was operated upon and the chain was removed from the cow’s stomach along with a plastic rope and another chain)…
* Don’t remember the headline for this one… A 17 year old committed suicide because his favorite hero didn’t win Idea Star Singer 2007. (it’s obvious that either the boy was nuts or the actual reasons are being hidden)
I was reading through several other interesting stuff and fell asleep.
Soaring temperatures are making me insomniac. This sleep was a welcome relief. Suddenly, I woke up when I felt something was wrong with the fans. The couple who, occupied the upper-berths had conveniently tilted the fans, each one to their sides, leaving the rest of us sweating and sleepless. ( Now you understand why I’m cribbing so much about the couple). A little bit of consideration for fellow-human beings, that’s what we all ask for, yet refuse to give others

By morning I reached home and the road, thanks to the welfare efforts of our Government, almost broke my back. I’m not talking about the main-roads, this one leads to our residence, maintained by our Residents’ association, more or less miniature versions of the bigger crooks who dominate the Government. Retired jobless uncles and the even more jobless youth form this association which has just one accomplishment in the annals of its history, Tarring the road which winds down a hill, ages ago.
As a part of the Japan-aided drinking water scheme, the road was dug for laying the pipes. To fit in these pipes the other main water-supply pipes, telephone lines, sewage lines etc were broken. Presently the work has come to a halt, coz of some rivalry and arguments that crept in. The road is a disaster and majority of the residents dread driving through that road.
For that matter, laying of pipes and widening of roads, PWD in Kerala is never jobless though their fruitless (oops fruitful) efforts are visible only in the half-dug roadsides and the pools during rainy season. Walking through the roads equals to practising for long-jump or in extreme cases learning to swim and you can only drive a JCB on these roads.
I reached home, lamenting over the sad-state of affairs, freshened up and took over the kitchen. Mummy I miss you!!!!!! Anyways, Dad was my guinea pig for the day and I was busy showing off my culinary skills. I asked him, ” Dad how is it?”
He said that it was nice.
Remembering the reasons cited for sending me home now, I asked him,” Dad, did mummy know to cook, when you got married”?
I shall never forget the look on his face when he said,” I just got used to it. I never complained and judged her cooking”. What conclusions do I draw from that statement? Men, please learn *wink*
I had a phone conversation with mom, describing the journey and putting another reason in her list of things-I-should recollect-next-time-I-have-an-argument-with-him, and she started off another lecture on how careless I am blah blah.. making me feel all the guiltier.
I thought this much was enough to blog about, in this deserted land, when someone knocked on the door. I knew this one belonged to the pests in Tvm species, the salespeople. This boy started flirting with me and displayed this book of world facts. With few rude responses (which I felt very bad doing so), I drove him away.
Once again, I logged into our PC and my glance fell on a post-it stuck on the mother-board, with some vital info on it. What was written on it seemed vaguely familiar and realization struck like a lightning. That was my id and password, which I’d given my mom to check on an important mail, when the wi-fi in our college went on strike. Pheww!!!!!!! Being careful can also be dangerous isn’t it?
Well, I’ll stop the directionless rant here and need to ask mom about her extremely careful action.
Consequences if any, will not be retold here!!!
Forgot to mention: Heard a lot about the FM boom in Trivandrum. I switched on the FM and listened for a couple of minutes. The RJ’s are doing a good-job of murdering our Mother-tongue.

A fridge and other stories

We just bought our brand new fridge. It’s not that our old one has been dumped into some junkyard. It’s still functioning, alive and kicking. However, as we the jinxed Josephs have been marred by dislocations and relocations, we have divided and departed. In our family circles and the not-so liked(personally) church circles, the only circles we are subject to discussion, they say, ”Avar ellam panku vechu pirinju”.
Our old one was oops is an Allwyn model. Considering the fact that it has survived for 21 years, yep the fridge is older than me, we were not ready to risk it’s longevity for one more time. The last time it journeyed from Bangalore to Trivandrum. It arrived safe but was rendered handle less. The only defect or trouble it has given or faced in its 21 years of existence so far. It was white in colour and as years passed by, it was the exact opposite of my parents’ greying hairs. The colour was changing from white to off-white, to grey to literally black. When our house was being painted, my super mom, whose quirks and ideas are irrepressible and out-of-the world, got this idea of giving our fridge a new look.
The Painter uncle must have created history by doing that. With spray painting and advanced techniques, painting a fridge with the leftover Nerolac paint that was used to paint the railings of our staircase is not something you would ignore. I don’t know what possessed my mom or what actually made the painter to oblige, but the end-result is a treat for the eyes. Dark magenta, well people in their normal senses do not appreciate our choice of colours, but we are a creative lot you see.
Therefore, our good old Allwyn is now offering its unobstructed faithful services to MJ back in Tvm. Except for a broken handle and an eye-catching colour there is nothing wrong with it. I’m finding it difficult to accept the arrival of a new fridge and get used to it. Sometimes, we develop an inscrutable attachment with certain inanimate objects that you just can’t let go of them.
Another antique in this regard has been our Keltron Television. That one was not as faithful as the fridge and it gave us a lot of trouble. When we the Josephs were restored back to our senses, realized that the amount of money spent on repairing the TV would sum up to that of the price of a new TV. We had to cheat upon the Keltron after 18 years of unbreakable bonding. Now it lies, perched on a shelf in the storeroom as if it was a relic from the past. The TV had an orange coloured tuner which I have safely preserved along with other precious stuff, dunno for what reason. Those days remotes were not invented and tuning the TV while appa shifted the antenna in all possible directions, like some meteorological device was fun. We the Josephs belonged to a different age altogether, at least that’s what people think when I confess, we got a cable-tv connection only in Oct 2007.
The ‘Bajaj super’ scooter, the one on which I had my first ride, retired after 13 years of service. The Sumeet mixer is a standing witness to my parent’s happy married life spanning (and still continuing) 27 years. The iron-box, which will qualify for the heavyweight-ironing category, in case there is a championship will also be the oldest among the participants, 25 years of candid theppu or flattening. Few lightweight freshers have entered the circuit but AJ and MJ are satisfied only if the creases are straightened by the archaic curio. There was this clock, which changed its tones from a beep, to a ring to that of the sound of scraping a coconut. We had an aunt visiting us, who woke up 12 midnight, walked into the kitchen, sleepy-headed and enquired who was scraping kitchen at this hour!
The fact that, the starting point for the service of many of these articles and my arrival into this world revolve around the same time-period, maybe there is a difference of few months or maximum a year! I wonder how they (AJ and MJ)survived those years and I hope they won’t blame me for turning them into materialistic beings.
It makes me think, a home is built step-by-step, a family is built step-by-step and that is why they still survive and exist.
Talk about the present situation where you wouldn’t marry a person without looking into the facilities and material assets available ( check out the latest BSNL landline ad), where you have instant homes and homemakers and those, which come tumbling down at a small instance!