Thursday, October 6, 2011

Growing Up : Part III

When I reach out the top shelf to take out the box with Bournvita packet in it;
when I call up the grocers to place my order for the month;
when I make a snack that my children relish;
when their friend comes home and enjoys a dish I made;
when I decide it is time to throw the old shoe out;
when I wonder if I can wait a day more before taking the children to the doctor;
when I give advise because someone shared their problem with me;
when I explain a concept to my child;
when she hugs me out of the blue;
when he teases my hair and grins;
when my hubby consults me on a decision;
I wonder, when did I stop being the little girl;
turning to my parents, my siblings, my elders for advice;
when did I become the elder;
the adult someone turns to;
for the little girl peeps out still;
wanting assurance, guidance and mentoring.

Monday, October 3, 2011

Wishes for The Festive Season

Somehow, if one were to place a year on the balance, the months from August starts weighing down. There is an excitement as Ganesh Chathurthi sets the tone for festivities to begin.

Navaratri, Diwali and then a quieter Karthigai followed by bright lights again for Christmas and Pongal.

And then it dips again in Feb-Mar, to peak again in April for the entire country to celebrate the Indian new years. May-June are passable, exciting only for the summer vacation.

Though July has its own festivals to boast of, it still seems like a gloomy month. August and Sri Jayanthi and Avaniavittam sort of remind one that any moment now, the celebrations will begin again.

Is it the weather, the bright lights, the Navaratri visits and the general bonhomie? Is it the new clothes, the promise of sweets, the off days that add to the fun?

Here is wishing everyone a happy festive season... 

Friday, September 30, 2011

Anubavangal: Mithappil oru sthiram

Anubavangal: Mithappil oru sthiram: நூறு கனவுகள் கண்டாலே, ஆறு கனவுகள் பலிக்காதா - ஒரு தமிழ் பாட்டுல வரும். இந்த நிமிஷம் வாழ்க்கையே கனவுல மிதப்பது போல இருக்கு. ஒரு பக்கம் ஜலத...

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Dream Come True

Prabhat was excited about his promotion. He had worked hard for it, he had worked hard for the job in fact. And now he was a senior manager. He could do with the increased income. With a son to educate and a daughter to marry and no inheritance to fall back on, every penny he earned would help. His wife Kalyani had been a prudent housewife, saving every penny. He had tears in his eyes as he thought of the sacrifices she had made. She had never demanded anything, and so he had never had to find unlawful means to make extra money. He had ensured that the contracts he granted as purchase manager were transparent, above board. No obligations anywhere. No possibilities of a black mark. And that's why this promotion a few years before it was his turn.

The years flew. His children were in a good school. Of course, peer pressure was difficult to deal with. The computer games, the expensive clothes, the car they got dropped in - though his wife and he tried to instill a sense of pride in simple living, it was a losing battle. So there were compromises. For your birthday, we will get you the watch - but no barbie dress, Kalyani had to tell the daughter. If it's beyblade for you, then no xbox - Prabhat had to negotiate with his son. But you got new games only last month, which you have not even touched! What do you need Life for!!

The worst was when his children cried about being dropped on a two wheeler. All our friends have a car and a driver, they lamented. At least a second hand one, they cribbed. Prabhat gave in reluctantly. He was finding the two wheeler difficult too as he aged, and balancing the two grown up kids. But it would have served a while more. Second hand was not a bad idea, and so he checked out. Of course, after the initial excitement, the fact that it was second hand did become a dampener. But a second hand car was better than no car at all.

Prabhat and Kalyani worried that their children had aspirations beyond what they could provide. But, to look for a new school...

Son was keen on engineering. Prabhat was thrilled. If his son could crack the IIT, nothing like it. He put his son for IIT coaching. Over and above the school fees, the coaching fee was a drain. But his son was happy, and Prabhat optimistic.

His daughter, not very keen on studies, had found her mettle in sports. Hockey. Prabhat worried. How would he find a groom? Will the dowry go up?

She remained stubborn and without his permission, joined the school team. He heard of it first when there was an additional fee to pay. There was a showdown, but he had to give in. He hoped she would outgrow it in a year or two.

He waited for his son's IIT results with bated breath. If his son got through, it would be a first in the family. He was disappointed when his son didn't get through. But with all that preparation, he was sure his son would excel in board exams and so getting through another premium engineering institute would not be difficult. His heart stopped when he saw that his son's marks were just scraping through the current cut off.

His son sat dejected. But I want to do engineering, he said. His father ran from pillar to post. He talked to his colleagues, and finally realised that many had paid a capitation fee that was beyond his dreams to get their children an engineering education. He was against it. He tried talking to his son. Do science graduation and then specialisation. But his son, though not being stubborn, became listless and dejected. Kalyani worried about the boy's mental state. Prabhat's getting angry did nothing to improve his mental state. His classmates were going to study engineering. Only he wouldn't. Reluctantly Prabhat paid the amount in lakhs that an IT course demanded.

In a year or two, he worked to refill the dent in his savings. He didn't like to think how he did it. His blood curdled at how he was signing substandard suppliers to make a commission that would help him breathe easy. His daughter threw a bombshell two years later. She wanted to try for state level team. When he refused, she sulked. If it is a son asking for something, you will give in blindly. But daughters... she left it hanging. It was unfair, her accusation. He had never denied her anything. But she taunted him with that time and again. He conceded reluctantly. But if her trying for state level was not bad enough, to qualify, she had to pay a few lakhs. Or else, there would be others who would get the place even if she played well. Some others, who didn't even turn up, who had a clout which he didn't have.

To make good this dent in his balance so that he could provide her with a good dowry... 

Prabhat was no more the man he had been. He was a very worried man.  But not for long. Soon he became an expert at covering tracks as he pocketed commissions that he maybe didn't even need any longer.




Saturday, September 24, 2011

Anubavangal: திறமைக்கு ஒரு சவால்

Anubavangal: திறமைக்கு ஒரு சவால்: நேற்று ஒன்று கேள்விப்பட்டேன். எனக்கு தெரிந்தவரின் மகன் கூடைபந்து கால்பந்து விளையாட்டுகளில் மிக ருசி வைப்பவன். சிறு வயதிலிருந்தே இந்த பந்தயங்...

The Fruit of 25 Years

I graduated from comics to books very late. I probably hadn't started reading Enid Blytons till I was in the fifth. And then I had two classmates who would discuss books non-stop, which made me interested in going beyond EB.

Then came the TV serial Trishna. Tarun Dhanrajgir and the lady who played Eliza Bennett's part had me hooked, and again, I was curious to read the original. I have read it several times since then, one of the few books I can read again and again. In 9th, I remember I even wrote an Indian version of the story with three sisters. But I couldn't get the hero to say "I love you" to the heroine. Laughably, he proposes on his brother's behalf in the end. But there was a parallel story that grew of its own volition, and I have tried to recreate that effect unsuccessfully.

Then sometime in the mid 1990s, I wrote (btw, I literally mean wrote, not typed) a novel. When I had trouble at work and had enough time to indulge in, I typed it in my computer, and discovered that the story turned out to be completely different from the original. I thank Ruchi Rao, my colleague then, for reading through it. It encouraged me to believe I could write, but I was too lazy to approach publishers.

Subsequently, I did, and it was rejected. I mailed it to a few friends, who seemed to enjoy it. And then, I heard from a very unlikely source. One of my friends had plans to start a publishing house and she liked the book. But her venture took another year to take off. Ironically, that book of mine remains unpublished and wallowing on my desktop as it does not fit her genre. Meanwhile I had written a few others, enthused by the thought that someone wants to publish me. But fates willed it otherwise and those too remain awaiting readers.

Then this story line appeared, just right for the romance genre. And here I am, in seventh heaven, announcing my own first work of fiction to be published. Though there are other books to my name, they are are based on inputs from others. This - is my own work of art. It is like a child to me. And for once, I would like to be blessed that I have many more of them.


Written in the stars


Picking up the pieces of her life after a tragic accident kills her parents, Neena Patil requires funding to save the family’s flower business.The mysterious Sahil Shah seems just the right person to help her out. But Sahil himself seems to be recovering from a series of tragedies in his own life.Caught in a plot of her own making, Neena gets further entangled as unexpectedly, she falls in love with Sahil. But does he love her in return?What will happen when Sahil discovers her mercenary motives?

Thursday, September 22, 2011

Elves

When I see the trees
Lush, rich and green
Looking washed and clean
After rains heavy

I feel like becoming small
Climbing the trees tall
Running through them
Like squirrels hurrying around

And I think I will find
More than just birds fine
Chirping and fluttering
Singing happily

I will find little fellows
Carrying  arrows and bows
Shooting intruders entering
Their bowers without their knowing

I can see them guarding
Their homes and their darlings
Standing guard on the broad stem
Of the tree that is their hearth

Oh pesky little elves
I long to see thou and thine
In your greens that hide you
From prying eyes like mine

With long ears
Tall caps
Slim waist
Handsome face

Do you exist? I doubt not
In my heart of hearts
When I see the green
Outside my balcony.
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