Wilson Garden

A 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...

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.

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...

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.

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.

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.

Making sense of Digtal Intimacy

Read an article in the New York Times this morning.

Among other things, it helped me understand why Twitter makes sense to all the people who use it. Analyses if the internet has actually raised the Dunbar number of 150. Maintains that even if one has 200 facebook friends, the circle with whom you maintain close connections amongst them will always be a much smaller number.

I used to be especially puzzled because I never got hooked on to any of the ever changing flavours of the internet. Way back in 1998 or so, when MSN messenger was introduced, I was super excited, but gradually that enthu wilted. Even the subsequent voice chat and webcam versions made me more lazier. Not to mention Skype. The telephone-will-do attitude thus limited my knowledge to that of a close circle of family and friends. Not much room for maintaining 'acquaintances'.

Email I loved and still remains the most utilised means of communication.

I did go about creating accounts on twitter and facebook and reunion and classmates ...under various pseudonyms, but never got enthused. It is not that I am trying to guard my privacy at all costs...its just that I find it burdensome to 'maintain' all those outlets. Its after all a substantial amount of time, which doesnt result in anything meanignful for me.

All my nieces think I am a granny in this aspect. But I shall soon start a group on Facebook called Non Facebook users...if it already doesnt exist

To Nee or Not

Almost ten years into married life I thought I had long ago sorted out issues pertaining to Nee name (henceforth identified as NN) and Married name (lets call it MN). Not that many players were involved in the decision. The only people who had shown any interest in it or offered opinions on it were 1. Myself and 2. My FIL. The owner of my married surname was merely a bemused spectator as I sought answers to these plaguing issues.

Passport: If I adopted my MN, they indicated that I would have to apply for a fresh passport, which, ten years ago, used to be a longish wait. On the other hand, Madam, if you 'include' your spouse's name into your existing passport, it will be a one-day service. Thanks, I'll stick to NN.

PAN card: The dreadful, but handy thing to have around to flout your tax status. In my absence from the country my FIL had gone ahead and applied in the MN. And he got it too. Please can I change it now to NN? No dear, that would involve issuing a public notice (afffidavit?) that you are changing your name, legal processes involved...Then we would have to intimate the three insurance policies...Now, who dare go about altering such a thing as a PAN? So, there I was known as MN.

Employment: Since my passport is NN, but PAN is MN, i decided to maintain my duplicity...my email ID is my NN but my name in the records is MN ! I took great advantage of the IT-Business alignment gap in my company, which i incidentally tout as my core competence. Ha!

Forms: The surname of the NN is 14 letters long and that of MN is 15 letters long. So, i couldnt figure which had a clear advantage when it came to filling out sundry forms fast... So, in such instances i inkied and ponkied between the names.

Gmail: This week, I was finally frustrated with my hotmail and yahoo accounts due to the spam and so decided to get a gmail account (apart from the nonsensical sounding blogger account). As luck would have it, the NN id was taken, so I had to again adopt the MN@gmail.com id!

The Patchwork Boy

Well, he was at it once again. Having freak accidents. He was playing on the wooden rocking animals (meant for the three year olds) at school and he flew. And hit the concrete floor with a thud. He was bleeding, but he couldnt notice. Mom, I dont have eyes on my back, do I? The security guard spots the blood, does some rudimentary cleaning. Uncle also applied some yellow powder on it.

Then it was lunch time. Lunch was yummy. It hurt a little bit, but I was okay. Then as the teacher plodded through some social science, the kids behind him told the teacher of the renewed blood flow. The teacher knew it was more than what the yellow powder could handle.

Off they rush to the hospital in the school bus. It was the nursery dismissal time. It was fun to be on the bus with all the kutti paapas. The doc ordered two stitches on the head. He asked me to lie down and silly goosily, I lay on my back and it REALLY hurt. Then an injection and ibugesic.

And by the time the school called and I reached, he was standing at the top of the steps, beaming a twenty toother at me.

Yes, I do adore his spirit to brave it all. But it is just five months since he fractured his right hand middle finger, when he pushed a desk on it. The nail had barely started to grow back. I am certain no forensic expert can reconstruct that accident. And countless more before that.

Each time something like this happens, I just say to myself, thank god its this and not anything much worse.

Looking Out, Looking In

What typically happens in traffic. You are stuck behind a vehicle. For want for anything better to do, if you mind is on the moment, then you take in the vehicle. Maybe an ancient esteem. Perhaps a badly bashed up innova. Cool Audi. Comparable Alto. Nice color for the Baleno, does the owner bother that its no longer in production? HeeHo..Palio! How low-rise can the pillion riders jeans be. Oh, Jeans everywhere. Its actually friday. Oh, the infant on the motorbike. On its way to some form of caregiver. What a struggle it must be for the parents with the commute and work and what not. EMI's....on everything. Wheres the nest I contemplate. Perhaps in Begur? Vijaya Layout? Cant be sure.

I can take in vehicles such as these. But there a few which I cannot look straight at. The open tempos in which a few folks are standing and they are looking back, bcos they cant look front. They could be those catering vehicles with the tall dabbas. The garbage trucks, in which few folks are seated right on top of the garbage. Forced to be oblivious to the stench and the filth. And some of those carry two dozen consturction workers...women, children and a few men. These folks look right at me - the driver, the woman, the materially richer one perhaps, the one that doesnt have to care much....the lucky one.

Things to worry..

Did I put the right lunch box into the right lunch bag?
They will relish the change

Did I put spoons in ALL the lunch bags?
Does it matter if they lick their fingers?

Did I put a spoon of curd into the milk rice to ensure it turns to curd rice?
They can survive on the rotis for a day...really

Did I pin up the V's Badge. Is her Route Number visible? Does 7B look like 78?
There is no route 78

Did somebody (me or the husband) remember to deliver V's lunchbox to the creche?
She will eat Rahuls lunch or Richas brunch...why bother

Did I turn off the geyser...and the stove
One is auto-off...so quite safe...the other will turn off when the LPG runs out.

I forgot my cell phone
The schools have you husbands number ....and your office LAN

Is the FILs birthday today or tomorrow. Whom can i ask?
Obviously ask the FIL. Why pretend and goof up?

I still havent got around to calling (phone) N people and keep in touch
They will call you. Sometime. Or you can do it later

The police men are screwing up traffic in Bangalore (by their absence of course)
Do your bit, relax, drive safe.

I worried about all this and then forgot to look at my cars fuel indicator which read 'E'....and it stopped. And so the story goes on...

An early morning lesson ...in biology

As S and I were brushing, we found a small intruder invading our peace. A teeny weeny lizard peeped out from the shelf. I was way too scared, but managed to get the husband to take some concrete action. He fetched the morning's TOI and arrested the little being against the wall before hitching it on to page one. And then it was delivered on a flight out of the balcony. Peace at last.

But S noticed that a part of the little L's tail was still left behind on our basin....and it was moving...appa, it does not have eyes how will it know where to go? Where is the tails brain? If the lizard can grow backs its tail, can the tail also grow back the lizard?

Aaargh....! I must say that his interest in multiplication (maths and otherwise) is increasing at a very alarming rate.