tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34331013463068612902024-02-19T10:42:05.095+05:30WhatItIsAirspyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17731662994043369830noreply@blogger.comBlogger48125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3433101346306861290.post-15628622834854959602013-07-12T19:19:00.001+05:302013-07-12T19:19:16.246+05:30A two author book<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Read a book last week - called the <a href="https://www.google.co.in/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=2&cad=rja&ved=0CDYQFjAB&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.amazon.com%2FThe-Rule-Four-A-Novel%2Fdp%2F0385337124&ei=BAjgUeOZCsHZrQex5IGwCA&usg=AFQjCNGKkMRfIHstGbHoTxkemAAF5jiUZA&sig2=Z1B9IaeeGZt-BBoQXF_AMA&bvm=bv.48705608,d.bmk" target="_blank">Rule of Four</a>. The blurb had great reviews by NYT..combination of Umberto Eco & Dan Brown it said.<br />
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It had a reasonable start, combining an inquiry into history in a collegial setting- youthful, curious, hopeful and stuff. But somewhere in the middle the effect of a single piece of fiction having two authors started to show and I lost interest, though I finally crept to the last page.<br />
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Looking back, it seemed as though each of the authors, individually sought to incorporate things they liked appreciated or cared for in their life experiences. The girlfriends preference of perfumes, the roommates love for jazz over rock, the strongest of them obsessing over tidiness, the friends hatred for salon dried hair and many more such nuances dint seem to come from the same mind..The common train of thought was missing.<br />
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The first time I have got fooled by an NYT review.</div>
Airspyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17731662994043369830noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3433101346306861290.post-88734499747742189732013-06-12T09:39:00.002+05:302013-06-12T09:39:25.998+05:30A good morning routine at work<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Starting this Monday, I have resolved to climb the stairs to get to my office. Even when the elevators are working.<div>
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I used to climb down most days, and climb up only when the elevators are inefficient to wait for.</div>
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My office is located on the 5th floor and depending on which level I find parking, I can end up climbing up to eight flight of stairs.</div>
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Day three today, and already the floor at which I feel breathless has increased by one. So, hope to reach breathless to my desk in ten days time.</div>
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Its fun thing to look forward to ...at least for now</div>
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Airspyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17731662994043369830noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3433101346306861290.post-39581066459167276382012-10-22T06:23:00.002+05:302012-10-22T06:27:37.499+05:30A trek after a loooooong time<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
To Kudremukh we went.<br />
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The bus boarded at A2B Jayanagar reached Samse at 7 pm; a jeep ride on a rugged off-road path took us to Mullodi after 6 km. A motley group of around thirty. Ages ranging from 12 to 62 ! Chilly, windy, misty rainy, we started at 10 AM.<br />
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Varied terrain and vegetation. Areas of tall trees with rocks and rivulets alternated with areas of low shrubs on steep slopes and yet again with regions of tall, thick grassy areas over relatively flat terrain. Leeches leeches everywhere. The dettol on our shoes didn't seem to deter them. It was quite queasy to see them bore into your neighbor's shoes and socks, and gradually increase in size by ingesting blood. Over 10 km of trekking took us to base the final ascent. It was steep, rocky, windy, with the paths not being clearly marked. A light drizzle kept the energy level up and heightened the sense of adventure, as every step had to be firmly put, as the chances of slipping were very high.<br />
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The final 500 m after this ascent was on the flat head of a ridge that lead us to the second highest point in Karnataka - the Kudremukh peak. The view of the rolling hills all around, lush with greenery was enthralling. The grass carpeted slopes with narrow strips of dark green trees gently rising and falling topped with clouds made the trip worth the risk and the pain.<br />
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After a rest of half hour - where we are chitranna and curd rice, we started back a 2:30pm, with the hope that the descent will be much easier than the ascent. The first led of the descent was quite treacherous, as the rain and the slope made every step slippery. Even in the flat grasslands, I slipped quite a few times - and thrice while crossing the rivulets! The darkness setting in seemed to make the journey even lengthier.<br />
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Finally by 5:30 pm we reached Mullodi, welcomed by steaming hot cups of tea and Maggi! Yeah! </div>
Airspyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17731662994043369830noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3433101346306861290.post-87612800300907115222012-09-30T19:42:00.000+05:302012-09-30T19:42:07.151+05:30Detox<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I craved for detox this evening..all those clamoring thoughts of shopping, craft work, exams, appraisals, EMIs, parking space and what not.<br />
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Went to a nearby grocery store to get some sundry stuff. As I was leaving I met a man in his seventies who wanted to know if I could take some insurance policies. He lives in the neighborhood with his daughter's(his only child) family. The discomfort of having to be dependent was evident.I wound up the conversation with exchange of numbers<br />
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That was detox enough. That was an alarm bell sounding to be thankful for all that I have. And not to wish for magic or be a magician myself.<br />
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One step at a time at all fronts is the resolve. </div>
Airspyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17731662994043369830noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3433101346306861290.post-38636003376385553622011-10-10T11:30:00.004+05:302011-10-10T11:43:30.209+05:30Unending ListThe children are back. They were away for the Dussehra vacation to Chennai. As usual I got pretty worked up about having to send them. Were they better off here or there? Would they have more things to do here or there? Would they eat better here or there? I finally made peace with myself because the answer to the final question was 'there'. Soup, Aloo paratha, apple pacchidi, vazhai thandu, puttu, sundal, aapam, keerai, poli, bisi bele, pakoda - all kinds of variety in the daily menu.<br /><br />I was supposed to get a whole load of things while they were away. I accomplished quite a bit - visits to branch offices, updating presentations, pest control for home, doubling the stack of used-clothes, vacation bookings, visiting frineds & cousins - chattting with them (yeah!), running, walking, cycling.<br /><br />But I am still left with these - school bags, uniforms (it is still mid year, why do i have to do it?), weekly lunch dabba menu, tailor, shoes, giving away the old clothes, buying diwali gifts for maid, cook etc., returning library books, grocery shopping (why dont i ever have enough of Odonil?), learning to make appam, printing photographs.Airspyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17731662994043369830noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3433101346306861290.post-71815386233608592892011-09-30T19:43:00.000+05:302012-09-30T19:46:55.098+05:30Going Local<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Of late, I step out from home around 7pm, do all shopping nearby. Fresh vegetables, fresh bread. The kids accompany me on their cycles - some time V rides doubles with S. Its a wonderful feeling to run into to familiar people and shopkeepers. Its really been a long time since I moved here. A little over 5 years.</div>
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Airspyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17731662994043369830noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3433101346306861290.post-42586685862244395002011-09-28T10:56:00.006+05:302011-09-28T13:17:34.083+05:30Faces from journeysOftentimes faces persist like snapshots. Usually happens when I travel alone and care to take in more than just the people I <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">chaperon</span>. Oftentimes I want to know why, what, how, but dare not walk up and ask. I view myself as an intruder. <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Here's</span> a list from a trip to Chennai yesterday.<br /><br />- 8:30 PM: Electric Train @St. Thomas Mt.: A little girl, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">around</span> 8 yrs, in school uniform - white <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">salwar</span>, blue <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">kameez</span>, white <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">dupatta</span>. With school backpack. <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Seemed</span> to have had a long day, but eyes still shining bright. Boarding the train holding her little sister, 5 year old perhaps. They try various empty seats and finally decide to sit by the entrance. Enjoying the wind. So happy. So 'for-the-moment' life of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">childhood</span>.<br /><br />- 10 30PM: Central Station: A man of 30 lying on a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">bed sheet</span> near the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Higginbothams</span> stall, sleeping. Just like hundreds of others lying on bedsheets/<span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">card boards</span>/floor. Some alone, some in groups. Some happy to be going to some place, some sad at having left place. This man was well dressed, head <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">cleanshaven</span>. Initially put him down as a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Tirupati</span> return. A few moments later I found another man kneeling next to him and fanning him with an tattered towel. It was then that I noticed the two catheters on the sleeping man's hands. Perhaps he is a General Hospital return.<br /><br />- 11:00PM: Platform 4, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Yercaud</span> express preparing to leave the station. Important looking person dressed all in white, standing by the AC compartment. A dozen people jostling around him, giving him what looked like petitions. He gave the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">impression</span> that he was there to solve all their problems.Airspyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17731662994043369830noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3433101346306861290.post-47601700328692624402011-06-24T09:37:00.004+05:302011-06-24T09:48:03.322+05:30Zero InflationTwenty years ago, a small match box with wooden match sticks used to cost Re.1. Remember those Cheetah matchboxes, not more that an inch in length and breadth that had a picture of a man holding a sickle fighting a Cheetah? <br /><br />Today I buy Wimco Matchsticks that come in cartons of 100 matchsticks - still wooden but longer. These costs all of Rs.5 !<br /><br />Tubelights - When we used to buy it at the Institute SAC it cost Rs.40. And now sixteen years later, as I replaced my kitchen tubelight last evening, I shelled out the same amount of money!<br /><br />Pure delight!Airspyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17731662994043369830noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3433101346306861290.post-37748526657666332382011-06-23T09:32:00.009+05:302011-06-23T10:17:53.022+05:30Light and a PoemLight - I am obsessed with ensuring its adequate presence. Thick curtains are kept to a bare minimum. We are lucky to be in a home with very little noise. And plenty of natural light. We hardly draw the blinds at night. The beauty of the streetlights and moonlight streaming in is a pleasure. <br /><br />But, office lighting is all wierd. So many tubelights shining over employees heads even when there is bright sunshine outside. And to position yourself in various angles to avoid the glare and ensure visibility of the stuff the monitor displays. I often dream of an 'open-office' - breeze and sunlight in abundance. Maybe I wouldnt find it in a corporate office. Wonder where I would!<br /> <br />While on those thoughts, stumbled upon this gem. In this poem the poet says this of Sunlight: '<em>Resting on the page, the word is as beautiful, it touches you as if you had a friend</em>'<br /><br /><strong>The Word<br />By Tony Hoagland</strong><br /><br /><em>Down near the bottom<br />of the crossed-out list<br />of things you have to do today,<br /><br />between “green thread”<br />and “broccoli” you find<br />that you have penciled “sunlight.”<br /><br />Resting on the page, the word<br />is as beautiful, it touches you<br />as if you had a friend<br /><br />and sunlight were a present<br />he had sent you from some place distant<br />as this morning—to cheer you up,<br /><br />and to remind you that,<br />among your duties, pleasure<br />is a thing,<br /><br />that also needs accomplishing<br />Do you remember?<br />that time and light are kinds<br /><br />of love, and love<br />is no less practical<br />than a coffee grinder<br /><br />or a safe spare tire?<br />Tomorrow you may be utterly<br />without a clue<br /><br />but today you get a telegram,<br />from the heart in exile<br />proclaiming that the kingdom<br /><br />still exists,<br />the king and queen alive,<br />still speaking to their children,<br /><br />—to any one among them<br />who can find the time,<br />to sit out in the sun and listen.</em>Airspyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17731662994043369830noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3433101346306861290.post-34278389312805669772011-06-21T14:59:00.010+05:302011-06-22T11:53:06.506+05:30On Education, Once again.I read this interesting interview with Oxford Academic, Craig Jeffery <a href="http://www.thehindu.com/opinion/interview/article2023922.ece">here</a>: He makes an interesting observation that education alone is not a passport to social mobility. And class still mattters. While one would think that equal education is one of the surest steps towards social mobility, to erase historical biases etched into the bloodstream of generations, it turns out that not only in India, but across US and UK as well, that a good education is a necessary but insufficient basis for mobility.<br /><br />I earned a post graduate degree in Patent Law recently. The course equipped me with all the knowledge on the subject but gave me very little to understand what I can do with it. Apart from the adage of Knowledge-For-Knowledge's sake - which I really like, it has given me little else. Jeffery puts this across neatly in another context as "....Education provides a sense of entitlement but not always the problem-solving skills that allow young people to start businesses".<br /><br />On another note, the newspapers headlines of today indicates that a daughter of a stone quarry worker in Bangalore is headed to the prestigious National Law school to pursue her undergraduate degree. Given her intelligence as well as a capacity for hard work, I am sure she would top the graduating class five years on. But at campus interviews, wouldn't corporate India favour someone else in this field.....someone who perhaps has a lineage of lawyers, an unmatched network of pedigreed contacts etc? If it does not, then I can surely say education is a passport to social mobility. If not then the prestigious education would have taught her to "lower her ambitions. To quote a rather pessimistic note from the interview "....Class is crucial. If you are from the right class, there is always a good “fallback job” available when you leave education. If you are from a poorer background, you are much less likely to be able to turn your university degree into a good job."Airspyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17731662994043369830noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3433101346306861290.post-13693614823014547782011-03-11T14:23:00.005+05:302011-03-11T14:47:36.324+05:30DreamsAmongst the mass of CD's gathering scratches in the Pumpkin's glove compartment are a few that display surprisingly organized names, such as "A thru D" - ABBA, Beatles, Carpenters, Dire Straits. I don't know where the rest of the alphabets are.<br /><br />Anyhow, on a pleasantly warm Monday morning 'I have a dream..' by ABBA came out of the Pumpkins voice box to greet me. I figured that I still don't understand the implied meaning of <em>"I believe in angels when I know the time is right for me!"</em>.<br /><br />Uh? What am I missing?<br /><br />Do I believe in the Devil when I know the time is 'wrong' for me? Shouldn't I be believing in angels when the time is NOT right for me? Or may be its to be combined with the line that follows as "<em>When I know the time is right for me, I cross the stream/street</em> <em>(whatever)".</em> And the believing in angels bit is an unedited placeholder used by the poet to keep the flow.<br /><br />On another note, the answer to today's cryptoquote on my puzzles website is a classic Steinbeck: <strong>"People who are most afraid of their dreams convince themselves they don't dream at all."</strong><br /><br />I need to chew on that one for some time.Airspyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17731662994043369830noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3433101346306861290.post-26786078113418688052010-06-07T09:26:00.004+05:302010-06-07T09:39:24.949+05:30First MilestoneFull time school for V;<br />Into bus at 7:45 AM; <br />Out of Bus at 4:00 PM; <br />Long? Yes, by any sane standards.<br /><br />Short Break; Long Break - Bound to be filled with talk talk talk;<br />The boxes I broke my head to fill with varitety;<br />Will come back with the same variety;<br /><br />Day one has the white uniform;<br />Day two thru five have the grey one - quite dreary;<br />White socks on all days - I got to name them;<br /><br />What else - hah the second language - hindi<br />And book entitled Puranic Heritage which i am yet to see;<br />Hope theres no complications like swimming etc;<br /><br />Thats it for now; Will post back after 4 pm milestoneAirspyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17731662994043369830noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3433101346306861290.post-49137621791219802662009-11-30T11:48:00.002+05:302009-11-30T11:52:33.069+05:30I stilll own this placeFeels good to login and see that I can be in control of the things out here. The folks hosting this blog had successfully hidden the Sign-In button on my own dear blog and I could not post anything. Such desparately-wanting-to-post moments this past year have been few as anyone may have guessed, but not being able to do so did leave me sad.<br /><br />Ok, I am back. And will hoepfully post soon.Airspyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17731662994043369830noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3433101346306861290.post-43657215283766181192009-04-27T12:19:00.006+05:302009-05-29T11:04:42.487+05:30KnowledgeA breezy, rainy and dark Bangalore night. I was on my way to City Railway station on an auto. Not through any familiar routes. Through streets littered with godowns where rain had stalled loading and unloading activities. Labourers huddled under canvas shacks. Fallen treee trunks everywhere. Names like Dewan Bahadur Royan Road. Paranoia lurks. <br /><br />Just then the conversation flows with the driver. In urdu and madrasi mixed hindi. Along the way he asked me if Mumbai and Chennai are different places. What could I say? How do I make sense of his question? <br /><br />Heres a man who has been ferrying countless souls across this city on his auto - perhaps for 30 years now. Perhaps he has fathered three or four children. Circumstances may have made him a husband to more than one woman. And this piece of information he sought seems so basic to me. To think that he could have carried on with life this long without ever stumbling upon the obvious answer to this question. Wouldnt his children know this? Wouldnt the vernacular newspapers he reads shed some light on it?<br /><br />Now, to look at this the other way. Is it really vital that he know this? He has made a living thus far and exudes a condiserable sense of satisfaction with life. What knowledge is essential? Multiplication tables at the speed of light? States and Capitals? Makes me further ponder the educational system that is manufacturing minds for cubiclcedom.Airspyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17731662994043369830noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3433101346306861290.post-67969438807763679202009-04-17T13:07:00.006+05:302009-04-17T15:24:37.786+05:30The 80 clicks tag<p>Responding to the tag by <a href="http://choxbox.blogspot.com/2009/04/80-clicks-tag.html">Chox</a> on five things I love about being a mom....I have modified it to five things that I love about having children. </p><ol><li>Noise. I love the enhanced noise levels when my children are around. Laughing, wailing, screeching, screaming, scratching, smashing... It soothes (and sometimes numbs) my brain. </li><li>Patience. I can put up with ANY pace of progress on ANY front. Relatives (including my dad) who knew me as a short-tempered witch can hardly believe the change that my children have made me undergo. I view it as a positive change </li><li>Back-to-Basics learning. To anticipate, To answer (and sometimes Google together), To learn. Is there a traffic policeman for so many satellites cirlcing the earth? </li><li>Good company: Three of us are good company to go to parties where we wouldnt know anyone other than the hosts. </li><li>Readymade Fan Club: They like and appreciate what I cook. And we love cooking together.</li></ol>Airspyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17731662994043369830noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3433101346306861290.post-9830616184958931512009-04-13T13:31:00.015+05:302009-04-15T13:04:36.702+05:30MajesticAt 10:15 pm, after waiting for 30 minutes, I boarded BMTC Route #2 bound for Majestic. The wait in itself offered a variety which I may have seen, but one that I rarely paused and Observed at close quarters - the sobriety of the waiting traffic policeman having wound up the days duty, the garrulousness of three cell phone flaunting college kids talking movies, a family of four who alighted from an auto and barely able to carry the almost-asleep toddlers and the rest - a book salesman, an elderly couple with suitcases ...all waiting for the Route # 2 bound for Majestic.<br /><br />All through I was having a surreal feeling... A very long time since I had traveled by bus, unaccompanied, and at so late an hour and so suddenly. And I had never been to Majestic before, about which I have not heard too many pleasnt things. The only consolation was that my destination was not Kalasipalayam.<br /><br />I had a feeling akin to a villager in a big city when I alighted at Majestic. A thousand buses going a hundred directions. People People...all in a hurry. I did not dare ask anybody the way to platform 15, where my APSRTC bus to Tirupati will depart from. I walked around as non-descriptly as possible in quest for PF15. When I did reach it, a board there said that buses to Wilson Garden and Dairy Circle depart from here. That certainly was not what I wanted to see.<br /><br />There were scores of pedestrian ramps all of which seemed to lead up to a common higher plane. So I took one of them and reached a foot-over-bridge.Going north on it for ten minutes brough me to the Railway Station. Retracing my steps for ten minutes and surveying the scene revealed another bus stand which was filled with inter-state buses. Climbed down another ramp and entered the melee.<br /><br />I loved the scene with all its chaos and character...and a few dogs. I reached PF15, with 45 minute to spare. Scanned all the food stores and 'fancy' stores. Finally reached a Newspaper Stall. At this unearthly hour for newpapers the stall offered just two English magazines.Between a publication called Caravan and another called Competition Wiz, I chose the former. And I was much deligthed by this choice. It was not 'current affairs'. It had just a handful of essays on politics and culture.<br /><br />With this prize catch tucked into my hand bag, I waded through the masses back to PF15, just in time to board my bus with a hope that more of these majestic trips are waiting to happen.Airspyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17731662994043369830noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3433101346306861290.post-59994477871190875682009-04-08T15:26:00.012+05:302009-04-14T12:03:57.737+05:30Ten Random Notes<ol><li> 50% of my children have been promoted to the next class (UKG). The fate of the remaining 50% will be known on Monday. </li><li>Grandparents arrived last month along with the exams and made life a lot easier for ALL of us. </li><li>I have done the usual screaming at messy rooms strewn with Monopoly and Carrom artifacts, hands ingrained with grime after playing cricket with filthy balls in filthy shoes (no socks of course) in absolutely unhygienic 'play grounds'. </li><li>I did not dare yell at broken nail polish bottles - which resulted in hands, legs and nose dyed (red) in nail polish for two full days. Nor did I dare comment on strange cartoons that had sprung up on the walls of the kids room. I did not dare... because the culprit was the younger one. </li><li>Incident 4 listed above took another avataar in the form of eyeliners in my teenaged nieces room. The niece and I haven't seen eye-to-eye since. </li><li>Both the monsters' schools have redesigned the respective uniforms. That extends my shopping list. </li><li>They spent two nights at my sister-in-laws place at the other end of town. I felt miserable at home in this end of town. You know the usual feeling - all quiet, quite lonely etc. Inspite of this, am contemplating leaving them in Chennai for a month </li><li>We dont have any VACATION plans. Though I have been consulted by all and sundry on their respective plans. What kid friendly food to take on long drives? How best to pack light for Ooty (in MAY!)? Is cooked Maggi better than cup-o-noodles with hot water and all the crap? Best temples? </li><li>I entered a swimming pool after ages. I didnt swim, but just hung around in the water. But five days later, my upper arms still hurt. They are the most awkward and most high maintenance body part. </li><li>Painting classes - I am resolving once again to enroll myself in one.<br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">(This blog is truly useful in noting making. I was trying hard to remember how the last summer was spent, and the blog readily gave me clues. So, this is just another attempt to assist my worn out memory cells next year)</span></li></ol>Airspyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17731662994043369830noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3433101346306861290.post-13437417865284988492009-04-03T11:16:00.007+05:302009-04-03T11:40:47.297+05:30Coming HomeLong day at work. Crawl in early, but leave early too..around 4:30pm. Drive back home..pick up groceries mid way...answer a few phone calls...mind still partially occupied with the office. Scurry up the steps to the library. Hmmm....long time since i read Vikram Seth. And whats that! A transaltion of Sivasankari...hmm.. Will probably settle for John Updike now. Must catch the Branson autobiog sometime....saunter back to the car still sorting out if Sivasnkari should be read in Tamil or translation.<br /><br />Traffic jams...so take the internal detour. Heart rejoices at seeing vacation spirit in full swing. Kids of all ages ...cricket in the middle of the street along with skating, badminton, cycling.. a few 'older' ones exchanging ten rupees at a shop for ben ten cheetos and bumbaaloos. <br /><br />Ah, the final turn towards my home appears. I 'wake' up with a start....where are my kids? what would they be upto? how will the home look? At its best its a zoo of stuffed animals or a car showroom. At its worst its a tsunami town, with powdered Marie bicuits to guise the ruins. Monopoly? Sand Craft? Play Doh? Oh NNNNNOO! <br /><br />If S is IN the pool, what about V? Will they be doing some stupid acts of bravado in water? i hate the game they play called Life Saver...Perhaps V would be at her friends place. Will they be nice and playing doll-doll? Would they have scratched each other, and made a scene? May be they would all be rolling in the sand. Maybe they would be having a nice game of cricket. May be cycling...a few bruises. <br /><br />How are their grandparents through all this.Should i be prepared to see them ready to leave by the next possible means of transport to Chennai?<br /><br />Reality always dawns only at the last turn home.Airspyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17731662994043369830noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3433101346306861290.post-70882697048329660722009-03-16T10:54:00.004+05:302009-03-16T10:59:03.870+05:30SpringI am happy to report that Banglore has escaped the effects of global warming for this month. There have been a few spells of magical showers after a hot summer day, so typical of the Bangalore of yore. The full blooms of the Jacaranda trees add to the though that Alls Right with the world.Airspyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17731662994043369830noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3433101346306861290.post-67299827506594041022009-01-20T10:18:00.004+05:302009-01-20T10:27:59.741+05:30Ageing1. I have absolutely no enthusiasm or energy to do any activity with the kids on my own - gone are the days when I would go on long drives with them, travel fourteen hours by flight or train, or just enjoy sitting around them doing some silly collages and finger paintin - all without any support from spouse or nanny.<br /><br />2. My husband insists that we can no longer be refered to as a 'couple' - even by well meaning DJs at sundry parties. Its a term, he says, that is reserved for 20 somethings only.<br /><br />3. My older one S, refuses to be part of any mom and kids dances.<br /><br />4. My younger one, V, has assured me that I no longer need to carry milk powder and a flask of hot water whenever we travel.<br /><br />Sigh, SighAirspyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17731662994043369830noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3433101346306861290.post-68461215938595371232008-12-17T12:19:00.002+05:302008-12-17T12:22:45.364+05:30Hope and HappinessThe point in time wherein you feel the least happy, is always the point wherein you have the least hope. Can this hold true at all points?Airspyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17731662994043369830noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3433101346306861290.post-26953073336656176942008-11-05T11:15:00.004+05:302008-11-05T12:15:45.404+05:30The ElectionI found it so difficult to tear myself from the TV at 10:30 am this morning. Had been randomly watching the US election coverage since 6:00 am, while getting throught the ususal weekday routines. Gradually realised i was late for a 9:30am call, which I conveniently logged on from home itself. <br /><br />It was 10:00 and absolutely the outer limit to step out from home in order to maintain a professional image. But no, at that very momment, I had to get hooked on to McCains speech, and was completely rivetted by a speech by a pastor(I am not yet sure who this person was) to the wonderful crowd at Grant Park, Chicago. Delivered with such conviction, dedication and hope. There was such an infectious spirit of optimism in the whole scene. Oprah Winfrey included. Now I desperately wanted to stay on and watch Obanma<br /><br />With a heavy heart, consoling that I could catch his speech on the web as soon as I get to offcie, I left home. I have watched this fight quite closely with a lot of interest. Though I havent yet read his Audacity of Hope. But then I usually have a tough time gettting through biographies. <br /><br />Last evening I read a <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2008/11/04/books/04kaku.html?partner=permalink&exprod=permalink">review of Toni Morrisons </a>latest book woven around the haunting tapestry of slavery in US. The review itself was so gripping that I cant wait to take a few days off and read the book. And then there was a recent revisit of Jefferey Archers short story 'A Change of Heart', written against the backdrop of Aparthied in South Africa. This election's results should signify something personal to so many races across the world, that have struggled and still struggling...for basic human rights.<br /><br />I guess its not madness to hope that politics in my country too would change...probably in ten years time?Airspyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17731662994043369830noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3433101346306861290.post-55553526314671380242008-10-22T11:59:00.008+05:302008-10-22T12:23:15.996+05:3011111Thats my car's odometer reading this morning. Translated very enthusiastically by S as Eleven Thousand, Eleven Hundred and Eleven.<br /><br />Three cheers for the event! It has taken 22 months for it to get here. Over this time it has experienced three flat tyres, a drained battery, a few gashes mostly unleashed by bangalore autos (can I ever be at fault?), a huge crater in the front caused by a speeding bicyclist who rammed into the car. Thank God he managed to hold himself steady after that and continued to speed merrily.<br /><br />Now, thats almost 500 km a month. If one were to assume that Bangalore Traffic proceeds at 20 km an hour, I have spent close to 555 hours in it, close to 50 minutes every single day over the past two years. Not bad, considering it doubles up as my dressing room, puja room, pantry and thought lab.Airspyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17731662994043369830noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3433101346306861290.post-68627892032583974492008-10-21T10:22:00.008+05:302008-10-21T10:54:40.678+05:30In contsant search...for the perfect lunch box. <br /><br />Have been at it for the past thirty months. And still havent achieved any satisfaction. At the end of each working day, between mom and two kids we fill the sink with 50 pieces of these items to be cleaned. This is excluding the lunch bag itself and the water bottles (which are a constant battle issue). <br /><br />I had started with plastic ones. Simple two-tier stuff, with clasps at the side, in bright colours. Winnie-the-Pooh and Bob-the-Builder smiling sweetly from the lid. The colour pleased the kids and the simplicity thrilled me. My then two-year old could open and shut without much mess. Cool. But, the fancy wore out, the clasps didnt hold for more than a month and one tier kept falling off, even as I was about to place it in the lunch bag.<br /><br />Then came the rainy wintry days of Bangalore. Ought to give them warm food. So, I bought those insulated ones, with microwaveable containers inside. Super duper find, I commended myself. Once again the colours pleased the kids and the ease of use gave me warm comfort. The 2.3 year old could still unlock the containers because it had grooves on the lid and neat arrow marks to guide her on the right way to open. <br /><br />The joy was shortlived. Those grooves began to accumulate the following in multiple strata: mud stains,ghee from rasam mammum,VIM and atoms of steel scrubber. The yuckiness freaked me out at the end of week one. <br /><br />Ah! When i am on this slippery a slope how can Tupperware not catch my attention. Found an ardent salesperson who said stuff like spill-proof ya, very good quality plastic ya, lifetime replacement guarantee ya. Okay, done. Three combinations purchased. It was okay for a while, but then the smell of the last days food always seems to linger in all plastics. Especially when stuff has ghee and/or turmeric in them. And my maid who is totally ignorant on how to wipe utensils dry, just adds to my head ache.<br /><br />With a vengeance, this week I have returned to good old STAINLESS STEEL. They may look less natty but they remain stubbornly smell free, with minimal intervention. Have got those Milton ones inside a soft insulation. The only thing of concern now is the fact that they have plastic lids on the steel containers. In the meantime, I am sending my maid to a refresher course on wiping vessels.Airspyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17731662994043369830noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3433101346306861290.post-8839539163747890172008-09-15T11:30:00.009+05:302008-09-15T13:00:12.306+05:30Wilson GardenA nice name. Conjures up images of an idyllic place blooming with Gulmohurs and Jacarandas, with the occassional evening shower, the sun peeping through the clouds to cheer the rain, nattily dressed grandpas and grandmas sitting on the wooden park benches...<br /><br />I have spotted the name on numerous signboards in seemingly disconnected directions and could never figure out where exactly it lay. And this weekend I saw an ad that said Brand Factory has opened its second oultet in Wilson Garden. Brand Factory is of no consequence to me, but the ad listed the phone number of the store. My first 'contact' in Wilson Garden! I called up the store and took down the directions in great detail.<br /><br />I set out on the quest for Wilson Garden with S briefing V about what happens in a Factory! Car Parts, Robots, Assembly, Painting machines, shiny stuff...<br /><br />It turned out that Wilson Garden was indeed nicely tree lined, with broad roads and a flyover but fully crammed with buses, trucks and autos. And numerous Ganesha installations. And a few reputed hospitals, with the bus stops bursting with people. <br /><br />And Brand Factory seemed a welcome relief from it. I hate big stores in general, because it magnifies the worlds problem of excessive production AND consumption. But this one was okay because the number of consumers seemed rather low. <br /><br />WE didnt buy anything except delicious cheese grill sandwiches and pomegranate juice. Which in part made S forget his diappointment on what Brand Factory turned out to be. And made me hope that the trees of Wilson garden are still around for a long long time. Anyways, dusk is not the best time to make a judgement about a place, for your views will always be clouded. So, I shall still think of Wilson Garden as a nice place.Airspyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17731662994043369830noreply@blogger.com4