Free From YOU

Im Sorry, we turned bad and bitter
Im Sorry, we grew far and foreign
Im Sorry, we are strange and stiff
Im Sorry, but I want to be free from you

You remind my debts and don't let me dream
You reflect my pain and make me scream
You bring out my worst , let alone rest
To free myself of you, I think is best

Hoped you would help, not hurt me
Wished you would love, not mock me
Now I wonder if you'd ever be proud
Now I think if you'd ever let me be.

Forgive me for giving up on you
Forgive me for trying so hard
Forgive me for losing all hope
Forgive me for freeing myself from you

SNAFU,SUSFU, TARFU,FUBAR,.....aaaand BOHICA.

No, I haven't gone cuckoo.
I just feel , Im on a warfront, and its been officially declared  SNAFU -  " Situation Normal: All f***ed up"  But its bin quite sometime now , and now I feel, SUSFU - " Situation unchanged : Still f***ed up"  And in no time Im gonna be TARFU - " Totally and royally f***ed up". And I really hope I dont become FUBAR - " F***ed up beyond all recognition".
Why?
---------------------
Scene : Railway Police Station Secunderabad.


Seriously,this is not what I expected a police station to look like. It was like any other Govt. office. Documents literally flying all over the place. Not many of them are in their uniforms, sipping chai, jabbering away in telugu. Pot -bellied , mucchad uncles all of them. Some tall , some, not-so-very-tall.


Police Uncle: Ammayikku Em Aayindi? ( What happened with this girl?) He asks without looking up at me.
Me : Sir, I lost my bag, sir. Before Guntur, somewhere close to Nidubroli.... The robber has left another bag, in place of mine, sir. ( I showed him the bag I found- My consolation prize which had an umbrella, a half drank bottle of Minute maid Orange and a duplicate RADO wrist watch)


Meanwhile a group of men hauled in a real skinny fellow and led him to another room nearby.
In the Background : Dishoom Dishoom Aaaaarrrrgggh


Police Uncle: What you lost?? ( in a  strong Telugu accent)
Background : " ledu ledu sir, leduuu, nenu cheptha... cheptha" ( No, No no no Sir, I'll tell ... will tell)
I tried my best not to get distracted by all the wailing and howling behind me and said  "Sir, Nenu Lap top bag, ID cards , Return Train Tickets, Exam Hall ticket, Konjam Loose cash, inka konjam necessary clothes motham poyindi , sir."

Police Uncle: Laptop-u???
Me : Ledu Sir, No Laptop.

Police Uncle: "Give me one written complaint", and passed over a plain white sheet of paper to me.

As I went and parked myself outside the station to write down the complaint, my eyes quickly scanned over  the notice board which had photographs of wanted burglars, suitcase lifters, pickpockets, and chain snatchers.

And Maaaan!! Dont they all look decent! Some of them have even suited up for the photograph. Meanwhile a lady came out of the station, crying, begging, pleading.................and from nowhere did it look like,she was  trying to find a missing bag, it looked more like she couldnt find .........a person.

And I prayed silently for her, ' may it NOT be her child, Oh Lord!' and finished my letter.
I ran in back to hand over the letter to Police Uncle, and he points to chair and says " Kurcho amma" ( Sit, girl)

I sat , and waited!
He came in and out., and finally came in again, asked me to get up, took my chair and turned it towards an old  computer . He opens a word file and starts filling in my details. He types in such a pace that I wanted to politely tell him, 'Uncle ......err can I help you' . It took him a full 20 minutes to just erase the details  of the previous complainant and fill mine in.
I stood there. Admiring my patience , observing my growling stomach and appreciating his diligence.
He copied the document in a thumb drive and went out. When he came back with the print out, he asked me to sit again and  explained as he placed his signature and seal . " Look Amma...., this certificate should be enough for you to travel to your exam centre and back to Kerala. You can provide this at your examination centre also for duplicate hall ticket."

I thank him and open the document to read it, and it said.

 " This is to certify that the following person lodged a complaint stating that she lost her belongings while travelling to Secunderabad.
A thorough check has been carried out but the missing bag and its content were not traced. In this regard all possible efforts were made to trace out the missing bag and its contents , but in vain.


Hence Certified. "


Signed
Sub Inspector of Police
RPS- Secunderabad  


P. S : The TTE in train had consoled me earlier, " Be grateful that YOU were not harmed. Forget your bag! This form is just a formality beta, now move on with your life"
P.P.S: An elderly lady consoled me, " Think that you've donated all your stuff to someone" (Yeah, right! How benevolent of  me to give away my bra-panties )
P.P. S.S: The first two things I checked as soon as I realised I lost of my bag was:
1) My wedding ring : Its there. Thank lord platinum doesnt look pricely
2) Moth's Tee : My only consolation in FUBAR situations. That thankfully was in my suitcase , so the good news is I can still bury my face in it and sob.

BUSY BEE

When half the nation is watching IPL, I’m watching..........Guess what??

Scripps National spelling BEE!!!  (BAH!! Can’t care much for cricket anyways, let alone IPL, however much glamour attached to it.)

And lo!  Half the contestants in the competition are Indians. And apparently its always bin that way. And Oh boy, aren’t these kids SMART!!!

I can understand if a 10 year old can ask for the definition, etymology, part of speech, alternative pronunciations, and guess the spelling of a word.  I have seen enough spelling bee contests to digest THAT fact. If you have learnt enough French, German, Italian, Greek and Latin ( thats too many languages already for a 10 year old) you can break down the roots and guess the spelling of a hell lot of words in English.

But words that originate from Papuan, Aramaic, Hebrew, Mayan, Finnish???

These words that don’t even exist in normal dictionaries???

And you see 12, 13, 14 year olds spelling Words like Huipil, puszta, zwischenspiel, preux, jugendstil….

Yeah!! What the ****! My reaction exactly! I can’t even spell 'bourgeoisie' sometimes without referring.

And here are some of these spellers’ favorite words: cwm and humuhumunukunukuapuaa. ( I dont wanna even comment on that!!)

Do you want to be astonished every single moment as the young BEES spell a word right and feel the same pressure every time they're a given a new word. Do you want feel joy, disappointment, confusion, and nail-biting excitement without the ruckus of pointless commercials in between?

Sukanya with her trophy

And do you want to feel pride every time an Indian wins? (Like I felt last night when 14 yr Sukanya Roy from Pennsylvania walked away the champion after the spelling ‘cymotrichous’), then may be you should watch Spelling Bee, especially if you're a Logophile like me.

P.S : 2012’s Spelling Bee is going to be telecast on ESPN this May 30 and 31.Please don’t mind if I aint blogging much, ‘cause I’m busy watching BEE!! J

I want my life.........................

Disclaimer: Time pass writing ahead.......  Apologies for not showing up regularly !!

Super busy , tired and mostly day dreaming..... So here is a glimpse to some of my fleeting thoughts, which I had to quickly hold by its tail and struggle and juggle to force it onto the blog. 

I want my life..................

                                                                               

To be an Einaudi playlist.

With no lyrics you smile, without wings you fly

To be a Mindy Gledhill song

And float like “a scoop of vanilla cream in strawberry soda”

A Shakespearean sonnet, a poem by Neruda

A parmesan Pizza, a fruity Faluda

A prose by Lamb, A Murakami story

A tulip garden in all its glory

A van Gogh painting, A Tuscan villa

A sunny afternoon over a yummy Quasedilla

To be as pure as the driven snow

And as delicate as the morning dew

To have the beauty of a setting sun

And the calmness of a millpond

To be wild, full and free all above

And to always have you and your love

My 'Special' Day

It all starts , when you wake up with a bump on your forehead ( Mosquitoes in Kerala have apt timings!)

Then you're not allowed to go to receive your best friend.( You're the bride, you should always stay in.)

You're not allowed to 'talk too much.' ( Your 'frightening frankness' might just offend people )

Dont laugh loud (It is interpreted as indiscipline)

Dont play with or carry any babies.( They drool and spoil your saree/makeup. The stiffness of the saree becomes more important than showing your love to the one thing that brings you utmost happiness - babies)

Not to mention the beautician, who transforms you into 'the frog princess' you heard of in books and fairy tales ( No exaggerations here)

And the photographer who would make you go “ Im gonna kill you, and I will die too”

All you know is you are a puppet ! “Tilt your head, come forward, lean backward, open your eyes, show your teeth while you smile, look into the lens”- puppet!

And you cannot give ANY of them your piece of mind ( #1 Its not ethical to interfere in someone's work. They should be given their freedom to work. #2 You would be upsetting your dearest ones who hired them for you. #3 Giving your opinion= Throwing Attitude. And when you're the bride, its a BIG NO -NO )

So you don't know who came, who passed, what did they think of the food? Did they enjoy the time they spent?

You are so miffed and miserable that you do not want to even look at the man, you have been waiting and pining for. 

You want the day to end!

You wanna run home and grab his T shirt , bury your nose in it and melt in that smell of his sweet hot sweat, hoping it would drive away all those dreadful moments of your horribly 'special' day.

“Its your day” they say. And thats the day, they walk all over you.

Not over! As a final means to torture , you also get to sing a song and entertain the guests.

And there!!! Congratulations to you! You've finally earned the trophy for the 'most annoyed bride'!!

P. S : I only got engaged! The big day is yet to come! Sigh!

P.P.S: But there were a few moments that cracked me up though. Like when the groom gropes for your feet with his, to check if you're wearing sandals . And a few real cute ones. Like where you look the ring before you put it on him and you see the lines ' Like a moth to a flame' engraved on it  :)

What are they made of ???

Living alone is so much easier. You wake up whenever you want. Cook and eat whatever you want.

Who cares if you haven't made the bed?

Or left the tea cup all day on your table, till you finished that book.

You don’t have to worry about feeding your family, cleaning the house, fixing that faulty phone, washing clothes, or watering your plants.

Functioning in a family; being at HOME….is altogether another ball game.

I made the terrible mistake of helping my mom in the kitchen yesterday. And now I drown and drench in remorse and shame, feeling like a worthless worm.

  ---------------------------------------------

Woke up slightly early, and gave a hand in making a few chappatis, and a curry; and let her go to get ready for work, as I washed the vessels and cleaned the kitchen.

I was feeling both happy and worried.

Happy ; for I was able to give her some time off!

Worried ; 'cause I took almost two whole hours to complete the most basic chores in the kitchen. (I gotta do some serious catching up)

Just when I was filling my chest with that pneumatic pride of being the most dutiful daughter, I see my mom coming out, her forehead smeared with chandanam.( sacred sandalwood paste)

So what was our lady doing with that extra few hours that I worked hard to give her?

She prays! “Its Makayiryam”, she says. “Its good to fast today, for the well being of your children”

I give her sometime for herself, and she spends it all off praying for her kids!

I stood there for a while, knocked out- my eyes following her but meanwhile imagining if I would have the courage or strength to be half of what she is, when I get there.

This woman, who still holds the stitches down her stomach every time she coughs, asks only one thing of me as she rushes to work, “Eat on time, darling”.

She fasts, and I have to make sure that I eat!

I sat down at the porch, till I saw her take the turn down the road and wondered......

Mothers!! What are they made of? Really?

And somehow Im reminded of a quote by one of my favourite authors: “Think what cowards men would be if they had to bear children. Women are altogether a superior species”*

* George Bernard Shaw

P.S: And today, our lady is fasting for her Husband's well being (Thiruvathira)! Mothers, I tell you!!

P.P.S: Sorry guys! Im actually in a phase where Im thinking, “Men are great! And every woman needs one” And Im in no mood for any sort of male bashing, But I just couldnt help but agree with Mr Shaw here.

All about Silent Prayers......

Absolute gratitude is what I feel now!

Complete awe and reverence for every single moment that I got to live and experience.

Have you ever had such glorious moments- the strength and the sweetness of which brings you down on your knee?

Have you gone through feelings that simply cannot be penned?

Experiences which cannot be held in words? The ones you know that wouldnt be just to reduce them down to words?

So precious that you know not if you're worthy of such a privilege.

And you are so content that you cry.

And that riveting release of tears strangely enough brings you joy............. not happiness........ JOY!!

And in that beautiful blessing, that sweet sadness, that piquant pining, that mighty madness....

All that you can do is send out a prayer.......

A silent and sincere one.

Life has been about such silent prayers lately....

It makes me wanna spin!.... Slowly spin like a sufi monk! 

P.S : Im home, and guess what I find? Chingaari is pregnant! AGAIN! :)