Following a forward from a friend, I checked out Chetan Bhagat’s inaugural speech at Symbiosis Pune. I quite enjoyed it and thought I would link it back here for those who have five minutes to spare.
A simple but profound message.
Bavani of A journey of life… tagged me. I know. I know. Most of you are weary of tags. I am too. This one however, caught my fancy because it made me think. The tag is about sharing a song that I think describes me. Before I read the tag correctly, a dozen songs flashed through my mind. They are songs that I like. Not necessarily songs that would describe me. I was tempted to link to all of them but then I pulled myself together and focused. Now, what could describe me? No one has written a song on me like this one. Or this. Leaving out what others think of me, I thought on how I would describe me, my attitude towards life etc and then I had it.
This song by Bryan Adams “On a Day Like Today” is something I listen to often. I love it because it captures my attitude towards life in simple terms. All my life is a journey for that one elusive day when all my life can change. It is the possibility that drives me on. I think it is an upbeat number and it lifts my spirits each time I hear it.
The lyrics to this song are as under.
Free is all you gotta be
Dream dreams no one else can see
Sometimes ya wanna run away
But ya never know what might be comin round your way ya
Ya ya
On a day like today
The whole world could change
The suns gonna shine
Shine thru the rain
On a day like today
Ya never wanna see the sun go down
Ya never wanna see the sun go down
Somewhere - theres a place for you
I know that you believe it too
Sometimes if you wanna get away
All ya gotta know is what we got is here to stay
All the way
On a day like today - the whole world could change
The suns gonna shine - shine thru the rain
On a day like today - no one complains
Free to be pure - free to be sane
On a day like today
Ya never wanna see the sun go down
Ya never wanna see the sun go down
Free is all we gotta be
Dream dreams no one else can see
But ya never know what might be comin for you and me ya
Its gonna be
On a day like today…
I am not tagging anyone but anyone who thinks this is a great idea feel free to make a post of it and link back here so we can all see what song describes you best.
I logged in to chat with my mom early this morning like I sometimes do and she said “Bangalore rocked by bomb blasts.” My first reaction was to blank out. The IISc blasts are still fresh in memory considering K is an IISc alumnus and it affected him deeply. Channeling my energies into finding out what really happened, I found most news headlines pretty much said the same things. Mid day blast, targeting people during the busy lunch hour and serial in nature.
How many such blasts have to happen till we find it in us to hunt down and punish those who bait innocent civilians in their power play? I know it is anger talking but I can’t help imagine the poor lady waiting at the bus stop with her husband to catch the bus and getting blown to pieces because some wacko sitting high in his/her den decided to blow up the bus stand. It is so wrong!
I pray for her soul to rest in peace. I hope whoever planned and executed these attacks meet with a fate worse than this.
Nasama po! May they rot in hell!!
This really happened.
This past Friday, I drove myself to work. It is a rarity considering K and I work at the same place and he almost always drives the car. The day went past and it was time for me to leave. Remembering to check with K on directions to another place I wanted to go from work before I went home, I picked up the keys and my purse remembering I needed them even if my bag was in the trunk.
Opening the door to the outside, I felt a moment of happiness. It was one of those days when it is bright and windy and you smell freedom the minute you step out of work. Plus, it was a Friday. What more did I need? I walked jauntily to the car, dumped my bag and lunch box in the trunk, checked if I had the phone with me and walked over to the door and let myself in. I settled myself comfortably tightened my seat belt and sat.
Thirty seconds later, I realized what was wrong. Horror of horrors, I was in the passenger seat. I felt embarrassed and quickly checked to see if anyone was watching. Face red with shame, I hurried to the driver’s seat and then drove away.
All that evening, this was all I could think of. I have become so accustomed to being driven around that on the rare occasion that I do have to drive myself I plonk myself on the passenger side by habit. What horrified me was not just this instance. It seemed representative of all else in my life.
I have gladly handed over everything that I used to do as a spinster to the capable hands of K. I am so used to him taking care of bills, documenting and filing papers and just about everything around the house. I live my life on autopilot. Everything takes care of itself.
Friday was an awakening. I hope I remember the scare.
On my way to work, K and I were talking about this song and it’s now stuck in my head. It’s kind of cute. Just the kind of obscure thing that would catch my fancy.
PS: I do have blue jeans on ;p
Laying out all the new clothes I had bought over the weekend, my eyes caught on the summery embroidered top that was unlike any other I owned or ever wore. I dress conservatively and this one was on the other side of the border. Reserved for occasions when I might feel a little daring. On an impulse I paired with a capri pant and got ready. Walking down to the kitchen, I spied K busy with the sink. I stood beside him and asked like I usually do “Eppadi irruku?” (How does it look?). His eyes lit up even before he said a word. I had my answer. I fussed around asking if it was appropriate for work. If it looked good. A hundred different ifs. I was waiting for anything to make me go change. He weakly offered “Its raining today. May be you want to wait for a sunny day.” By then my mind was made up. Pirouetting on my way out I felt light and good. The way summer is supposed to make you feel.
Reaching work I slid into my seat. I could hear my colleagues in the adjacent cube talking something about work. I was tempted to join them. To show off. But I stayed put. A while later, as I interacted with them I could see the way their eyes took in the different me. It was appreciative. After small talk on where I got it etc. I ran into another new friend at work and she went “Oh! that looks real good!”. I was over the moon.
With each of these persons however, I felt compelled to defend my choice of clothing. Even when they were not alluding to what I was thinking. I had to mention how this was a first for me. How I was not sure if it looked good on me.. so on and so forth. As much as I tell people I know not to bother about what others think and to do what they want to do. I was amazed at how much I wanted the people around me to approve. To reassure me it is alright. To defend my choices.
It does not matter whether I opt for something daring to wear. My mind is still stuck in reverse gear. So much so for growing up! 
The UPA Goverment wins the trust vote.
Not that I am a big follower of politics but some events catch my attention more than others. I have very little idea about what this means long term for India and the India - US ties. But what interested me was how my opinion of Manmohan Singh changed. For someone whom I thought was quiet and unassuming, he seems to have taken a stand and faced the communists head on. Irrespective of the political and practical implications today’s events will have on the lay person, I think I have a new found respect for Manmohan.
Am sure there will be tons of articles analysing and dissecting today’s events but I would love to hear what YOU think.
As I liberally dusted myself with Mysore Sandal Talc today morning in what appears to be a recent habit, I couldn’t help thinking back at the days I scorned my amma, appa and athai for coating themselves liberally with talc. I would tease them saying the powder was an inch think on their face and neck and they would dismiss me as silly.
I remember when amma would chide me for sitting curled up with a book when I aught to have, like all good girls washed my face, applied talc and a nice new bindi. It was probably the only piece of ‘beauty’ advice she passed on to me from mom to daughter. Which of course I did not take. “Palichinu irruka vendaamo” she would say.
The talcum powder tales are dime a dozen in any household but some of the sharp memories I have are of my dad pressing the powder pack till a small mound of talc would rest on the palm of his hand. He would replace the box and rub both his hands vigorously and then smooth the powder all over his face, neck and arms. He would then turn back with a smile as I teased him. I also remember my athai pleading with me during weddings and other festivals at home to ‘brighten’ up with a bit of powder.
I also remember airily dismissing them saying I did not need to take recourse to talc to make me look beautiful. I looked just right au naturale I thought. On the wrong side of thirty, I am ready to take anything that will make me feel younger.
Ahh! for the arrogance of youth I thought as I merrily squirted talc all over myself.
Bright and early Saturday morning K and I set out with friends to the Zoo. The Philadelphia Zoo as it proudly proclaims is supposed to be the first Zoo in America. After having planned for many times but never having actually visited we were eager to see what it had to offer.
More than the actual animals or birds what fascinated us was the guide who led us from exhibit to exhibit tenderly referring to the animals by their names. He gave us much history of where the animals came from, how old they were and some trivia about them.
Some of the highlights of the trip were the big cats i.e., Puma, Siberian Tigers, Lions, Leopards and Amurs. Then we got to admire a couple of gorillas and chimps in neighbouring cages. Then we walked along wooded areas where lemurs and other primates had a free run of the trees. Pausing to admire them we made out way to the aviary section. The top pick there were a few flamingos. Couple of them were nesting. We lingered watching the delicately colored birds for a while before we went on to see Penguins and such.
Another highlight was the up close and personal look at a Giraffe. As I stood wondering how it would manage to drink water with such a long neck, it bent down to take a sip. Comical as it looked, I could not resist feeling amazed either.
To round up the visit, we stopped by last by the Reptile cages. The whole area was deliciously chill and offered respite from the 100 degree heat the rest of the area was sweltering from. As we moved from one glass cage to another I was transfixed by the snakes. Each curling up into tight balls or lazily watching the crowds milling around them. The coloration on each of these fascinating creatures was mind boggling. Some of them blended into the rocks behind them so well that it was hard to pick them apart.
We were in the Zoo for about five hours. A visit well worth it.
Rushing to have my bath this morning I realized the salwar I wanted to wear to work was crumpled and the dupatta beyond redemption. Torn between having to iron the dress and deciding on the ever convenient jean I stopped for a moment to understand what I wanted to do.
A moment later, I dragged the ironing board up, plugged in the heat iron and went to work. Knowing I had to be at work in less than an hour, I wanted to rush through the process and be done with it. Some thing inside me however, slowed me down. I took the time to iron out the edges and like I used to do it eons ago folded it and ironed again.
Shower done I felt a tiny thrill course through me when I looked at the neatly stacked salwar, kameez and duppata. Slipping it on, I lingered a moment longer in front of the mirror before I rushed to the door.
Sitting back in my cube my hands fingering the material of the dupatta, I thought back to the times growing up I would haul a huge pile of clothes that came back from washing to the ironwala at the door. Counting them meticulously I would watch the little boy drop them on a clean white dhothi and tie them up into a huge bundle he would then sling over the shoulder before he stopped at the next house. Sometimes leaning over the fence at home, I would check when they would be done. And stand some more watching the man shovel hot coal into the huge iron which he would then draw over the damp crumpled clothes. It would seem like magic the way the creases straightened out. It would seem effortless till of course I tried to duplicate it myself at home with my pathetic excuse of an iron.
I remember pleading with amma to let me get one that you could fill water in and then spray as you ironed. I think I did get one too. No idea what happened to it later though.
I sometimes wonder where that part of me disappeared to. The one that ironed neatly, folded clothes and stacked them in order. The one that took pride in maintaining personal effects with care. Some where in the past decade, I seem to have lost those qualities. My clothes lie on a ‘pai’ waiting to be folded. A hundred and one tasks are on my mental to-do to be done but never actually getting done. Today, I think I reached out and touched a small part of the missing me.
