Paraaya Dhan...

The sister-in-law of a friend of mine will be getting married soon.
She has been staying with them for some time now, and gotten to know all the rest of us rather well.
Though a little shy in the beginning, she has made a place for herself in our gang, with her wit, humor and basically because she turned out to be as crazy as the rest of us.

There is quite a bit of hustle bustle around their household these days with regards to the preparations and planning and everything...
Recently, during a chat, my friend generally mentioned in the passing, that "yaar, soon she'll be gone"...
And it struck me that yes, suddenly there will be one person less in the house !!!
And to top it all, this one will be flying off to the US after the marriage, as her fiancee is based there. So its gonna be quite some time before we get to see her again.

And I realised that I'm gonna miss her too...had kinda gotten used to her being there.
My trips to Pune were often spent at their place, and she was good fun to have around.
Primarily because she was our common punch-bag, the poor thing used to bear the brunt of most of our practical jokes, but more so because she was a jolly good sport.
Soon, it'll just not be the same again !!! There will be a void left behind. And nothing can fill that up.

How much more difficult must it be for her parents ?!?!?

Now this friend has a daughter, who is 15 and half months old.
An absolute darling...she has me all tightly wrapped around her little finger.
And when she gives me her dimpled smile, I inadvertently look around, in the hope that if her parents aren't looking, maybe I could just scoot her up and run...
And it rips my heart to think that some time in the future, she also will come of age and go away with her husband.

And if this affects me so much, what must the parents go through ???
How do they console their hearts ? That the one they have brought up with so much love and care, has to be given away to somebody else...a veritable stranger !!!
Aise kaise koi apne jigar ka tukda kisi aur ko de de ?

I fell in love once, and the girl knew that her parents wouldn't ever accept me.
And I wanted the girl to come away with me, all the time promising her a lifetime of love and care and nurturing and pampering and tenderness...and soft toys and chocolates and...books and music...and rhythm and dance and...
But she didn't want to rebel against her parents, said she wouldn't...

And today, I said a silent prayer for her, blessing her for doing the right thing.

As it is, the parents go through this whole lot of heart-ache...the least we can do is make it a little easier for them.

I used to love her, yes, but then, sometimes, love is not enough.

Whats in a Name ?

Thus spake Shakespeare.
That which we call a rose,
By any other name
Would smell as sweet. Romeo And Juliet ( II, ii, 1-2 )

Ilayaraja, the music maestro, ( the first Indian to compose a symphony and the first Asian to have it played by the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra ) couldn’t think of a title for his first fusion album, and finally decided on How to Name it ? and moved on in life, to create other masterpieces.

The mascot for the 1996 Atlanta Summer Olympics was initially named Whatizit, because that’s what everybody would say when they first saw it…
After a few modifications to give it a more athletic look, it was renamed Izzy.

Apna Asian Paints had an adorable mascot – Gattu, a concept which revolutionized branding in India. The little boy with unkempt hair and a paint brush in hand ( created by R K Laxman ), became a ready reckoner for your friendly neighbourhood house-painter, who more often than not, was illiterate and couldn’t read the brand he was purchasing.
Today, Indian Advertising is divided into two phases, BG and AG ( Before and After Gattu ).

Corporate lores abound on the naming of some great brands the world has known. E.g. how Bill Hewlett and Dave Packard tossed a coin to decide whose surname should come first in the name of their company. Packard won, btw...
[ More of those and on origins of rock bands’ names, in a later scribble, after due research ( i.e. google ), I promise !!! ]

Now, I have a naming fetish…everybody I connect with ( leaves a footprint on the sandy beaches of my heart ), gets a name, based on how I relate to them and the intensity of my interaction with them…

Not just that, my worldly possessions get names too.
Depending on your gender, I'm sure you just said "What on Earth !!!" or "How Cute !!!"
( The idea is shop-lifted from The Bridges of Madison County )

My mobile is called Jeeves – the all knowing, infinitely resourceful butler immortalized by P G Wodehouse. Any time I’m in a jam, just phone-a-friend; and hence, my solution provider.
My scooter is called Hobbes – that ever loyal companion. With everybody else around, its just an LML Vespa Select II ( the stuffed toy parallel ), but when with me alone, it’s a full blown Harley Davidson !!!

I have just gotten myself a laptop. It’s a Dell Inspiron 1420, a dream machine.
( Yes, here is where you congratulate me ;-) )
And this is my first post from it.
After passing up Matrix, Slash, Back Slash and many many others ( Pappu was in the running for a while ), my brother and fellow Warrior finally came up with the winner. So we've settled on R2D2, the delightful android from Star Wars.

Welcome to my family, dude…looking forward to having some great times together !!!

Wise Men Say...

WORK like you don't need the MONEY,

DANCE like nobody's watching...

And LOVE like its never going to HURT !!!

Walking in the Rain...

Close your eyes, and imagine a heavy downpour...
What do you see ?

Puddles, overflowing drains, soiled clothes, entangled umbrellas, autowallahs refusing to go your way, stuck indoors with nowhere to go...???

All that, yes...but lots more too !!!

Freshness in the air...a light chill to the breeze...nature all cleaned up...lush greenery all around...kids in colourful raincoats...paper boats...the sounds of raindrops on the window panes...football...

The weather for garam garam pakodas, bhuttas, hot steaming chai/coffee, just sitting in the balcony, following the strangest patterns formed by the flowing rivulets...

Its not supposed to be raining here in Chennai, not at this time of the year.
So I was caught without an umbrella, in a heavy shower. Waited for sometime, but when it didn't show any signs of letting up, I said to myself...what the heck !! Lemme just indulge myself.

So, I just left my office building and started to walk home.
I was drenched before I reached the main gate, it was so coming down in buckets...
But it was B-E-A-U-tiful...I could feel the tension drain out of me...I felt cleansed...I felt refreshed...

Reminded me of the time on Juhu Beach...
Now Bombay weather is something else !!! The rains there are meant to be gotten drenched in. It can have no other purpose. Just go out there and soak it in.
I remember how we used to borrow a friend's bike and just roam, randomly on the streets, with not a care in the world.
But the Beach !!! That is a totally different visual treat !!!
The raving sea, the bhutta wallahs, the chai tapris, the seeng daana stalls, paratha wallahs, pakoda wallahs...
The couples huddled together in one umbrella, the more impassioned ones not bothering about it at all, ensconced in their togetherness, oblivious to the world around them.

And to get that same heavenly feel in this city here, was a treat. Almost as if the city was entreating you to like it, by offering you everything that you might be missing, longing for…
And thus I reached home.

Yes, I had to peel off my wet clothes off me...
Yes, I had to really scrub myself dry...
Yes, my feet had that peculiar odour...
Yes, my leather shoes were ruined...
Yes, a few currency notes in my wallet had gotten soiled...
Yes, my watch and mobile had been cause for worry all along...

But, as I sat huddled on my bed, wrapped in a blanket, with a mug of hot drinking chocolate radiating warmth, listening to the rhythm of the falling rain, it was immediately all worth it.

Ghar ka Khaana = Khazaana

A friend of mine has just started cooking. So now whenever we meet, online or otherwise, we discuss culinary techniques and exchange recipes.
Last week, not wanting to break the routine, I asked her, "Aur, kal kya banaya tha ?"
And she said, "Dinner yesterday was made my Momma the Great !!!" Apparently her mom was visiting with her, and had reclaimed her fiefdom, the kitchen !!!
She added to my misery by describing her day thus : On a bean bag, near the window, Freakonomics in hand, goodies to munch from time to time...

And all this just got me thinking...about the kind of effort that must have gone into deserving that one epithet.
My Mom's the best cook in the world...!!!

How many times have we said it ourselves...???
Orkut is replete with "home made food, mom made food, whatever mom cooks" under the favourite cuisines section.

I remember, when I was kid and it would be my Birthday in a few days...and how Mom suddenly could think of nothing else but how to cater to the satisfaction of 20 odd hyper-active hungry kids. It would take me just a second to rattle off my favourite dishes, which just HAD to be on the menu. And then it would be her problem from that point on.
I distinctly recall ( with guilt ) the nervous energy around her in the build-up to the B-Day : the planning, the shopping, the baking, the soaking, the chopping, the boiling...She would look physically drained at the end of the day, when all the kids had gone, and the place was a mess, and I would be tearing open the presents !!!
Obviously, she had to make my day the most memorable one for me, and hence the extra mile, but her reward would come when a neighbourhood aunty asked for a recipe of a certain something, since her son had come back and said, "Aunty ne woh kitna badhiya banaya tha, aap bhi vaisa hi banaana". THAT would make her day.

I have a younger sis and a kid bro. When it comes to food, all 3 of us are extremely picky. And thats the only thing thats common between us. To elaborate, I like my daal less mashed ( I mean, I should have to chew my lentils ), sis likes it regular, and junior likes it totally mashed.
Now picture this : mom actually goes through three stages of cooking the daal - take some out for me when its half done, take some more out for sis when its done and then go the whole way for the kiddo.
And where is her choice in this whole thing, by the way ??? No one knows yet...

Having been away from home for about 13 years, and cooking on a regular basis now, I suddenly realise what a full time job it is !!!
A difference in perception I notice is : while growing up, a compliment for home-made food used to be - Ekdum hotel jaisa khaana.
Today, a good restaurant would be one that serves - Ekdum ghar jaisa khaana !!!

And that, i believe, is vindication of a life time of efforts put in by Mom - God's Best Creation to Date...

Love Sublime

I sat in my study, with just the reading lamp turned on. It had turned dark outside, without me realising it.
In front of me, on the table, lay the wedding invite of Kavya. She had found the one she loved with all her heart, enough to marry him.

I had met Kavya outside an ice-cream parlour. Not so much met, as bumped.
She was coming out, totally engrossed in her softy cone, blissfully unaware of her surroundings; and I was going in, busy in my preparation for my job interview. And BAM !!! we collided.
I lost my thread of thoughts and turned to scold the offender. But one look into her big bright blue eyes and I forgot everything. She was apologising profusely, and I found myself trying to convince her that it was my fault after all.
When I had cleaned all the ice-cream off me, I noticed that the rest of it lay on the footpath, melting. So I offered to buy her another one, she accepted and so off we went.
Talked with her, for a while, under the watchful eyes of her mother, and then we were on our ways.

Holy Hurricanes !!! Met her again a few days later, in a marriage party this time. She was wearing the prettiest pink dress ever and looked absolutely lady-like. I told her so, and she smiled, with such an endearing twinkle in her eyes.
We hung around a lot that day...talked about so many things...and she didn't get bored of any of my stupid stories.
And then her mom came and took her away, as they were leaving.
The rest of the evening somehow, lost its glitter.

We managed to bump into each other ( not literally, thank God !!! ) quite a few times after that, phone numbers were exchanged and long conversations ensued.
In her, I found unconditional acceptance, and she, would rush to me to tell everything, her joys, her sorrows, her glory, her troubles, everything.
We would have our share of fights, when our opinions differed, and then the apologies, at the ice-cream parlour.
I was her anchor, her confidante, her counsellor.
To me, she was an angel, the one bright spot in my life.

Time flew by. She left town for her higher studies, and I got busy with my own life.
We lost touch, re-initiated contact, drifted apart again...
She met new people, made new friends, but she always maintained that I was her BESTEST friend.
And now this…

I was glad for her, really happy, wished her well, for always.
She had found a person who was adored by everybody in her family. That’s rare.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. I broke out of my reverie and looked up.
My wife had walked into the room.
She said, "Come, have dinner. Tomorrow we have to go for Kavya's marriage, and with all the work to be done, her parents have asked us to be there early."
Wistfully I said, "Kavya was 8 years old when I first met her. And tomorrow she's getting married !!! Why do you girls grow up so fast ?"