Highway

 I don't usually write a review about a movie or a book as I don't think I am worthy enough to publish my say on someone's hard work.   This isn't a review, though I am happy to recommend anyone reading this to watch the movie - if you haven't already. 

Highway, is perhaps the first movie that made me think I should write about. Now, let's be clear,  I am not saying it is the best movie ever. I would probably not go away and watch it 100 times over like I do with a few other movies, some that I had written about a while ago. I didn't love all the songs, I did think it was slow paced, I thought it could have been shorter, which, by the way, I think about every Hindi movie I watch these days. But, in spite of sounding so negative about it so far, there were enough things in the movie that made me think about it, made me go back to it even when it was over. 

This movie made me connect with it in more ways than one. I could relate with the character, with the free spirit, with the travels and tales that come with it, with taking each day as it comes and mainly with 'NOT having a plan'. It must sound like I live in a fancy fairy tale taking each day as it comes, not knowing where I am headed, just go with the flow and all that. But, in all honestly, when I give it a thought or two, I have been doing that for more years than I care to remember. 

Traveling is something that can catch up with most people pretty easily. It's addictive. You plan a travel, make your bookings and go away for a while and I bet, a few days after you return, you're most likely browsing and reading about the next potential travel if not booking it. 

I love to travel too but my travel needs to have a factor of nature to it. A week in the most expensive beach resort just does not attract me. Instead, tell me we are going for a cycling tour of 3 days for 8hrs a day and I am all up for it. Guess you know what I am talking about.  That thrill to experience the place in your own way, by touching it, but connecting it with simple things like climb a hill, wash your feet on a brook, look up at the sky and observe the stars and just marvel at the solid mountain range that stands so strong. Highway brought out that person who enjoys going out and about and relishing the moment - whatever the place and situation has to offer, feeling that place and taking in what it has to offer. 

One of my wildest fantasies have been to hitchhike a ride on a lorry (well... a truck!) in India and voila! the movie is shot mostly on a truck and the road and the pit stops of this journey. The way the cargo lorry system operates in India makes me wonder. It probably is such a lonely job, when you see those drivers take these truck loads to many miles away with almost a week or so on the road and the only point of contact with people, the communication and interaction would be when they stop for a refreshment, that little cup of tea may be. There must be so many stories associated with a travel like that, but it makes me think if they really think about it as an adventure. Do they not think of it as their job? their Bread & butter? Surely, it's hard,being away from family, being on the road constantly without really a familiar place, I bet they do it for a living and not for the kick that the travel gives you for the likes of you and me. This character is perfectly portrayed by Ranveer Hooda in the film. You know that this man holds many stories with him behind that hard exterior one sees. Haven't we seen many such people, many of these lorry drivers taking a little break at a dhaba on the highway? 

Imtiaz Ali, the director, must be a wanderer of sorts. The way he has brought in the music of the road, of the region blend in to the main story makes it so real. The things that Veera, played by Alia Bhatt ends up doing - talking to herself, gape at a hill and the next minute you are climbing it, the many stops for chai, sitting on a rock and just looking at the scenery or should I say the non-existence of a scenery. Something as simple as making Maggi in a little hut up the hill or the fact that she doesn't think about the next day. She's living that moment like she's in a dream world captured me really dearly. 

"Jahan se tum mujhe laye ho, mein wahan wapas nahi jaana chahti.

 Jahan bhi le ja rahe ho, wahan pahunchna nahi chahti.

 Par yeh raasta, yeh bahut accha hai.

 Mein chahti hoon ki yeh raasta kabhi khatam na ho."

These words did it for me.  I cannot remember the number of times I have wished that the ride never ended, that feeling of coming to an end and not being able to re-create the moment happens when we reach the destination. All we have left is the memories of the road. 

“Life is a journey, not a destination.” 

― Ralph Waldo Emerson 

How true was this man saying this? I don't think I agree with this more at this stage in my life. Let's see what a few years down holds for me. But for now, I am happy to stick to this.

                               

Window Seat

Yes, I have one on my train from London to Nottingham. From the time I remember, I have never said no to a train journey. I sometimes feel like I live in a little fantasy world I have created for myself where the simplest of things gets me thrilled.

It’s almost a decade ago that I was working in Chennai and made weekend trips back home to Bangalore (Yes… Bangalore and not Bengaluru!).  My world revolved around trains, booking centres and train stations. I also had this bizarre idea about working in the train station where I can announce the arrivals and departures in Hindi & Tamil. Something about naming the unknown and faraway places gave me a weird thrill. Like a train from Chennai to Delhi – wow! A long way to go.

I have to  get a window seat, preferably forward facing and no matter how many times the same route is taken, I have to look out for every station called and look outside at the passing landscape even if it was a rather plain non-dramatic scenery.  So a night journey was something I didn’t look forward to as much. I couldn’t sleep well – with the restlessness about where we are and how far we have come to the worry of what’s happening to my belongings and finally the Ticket collector nudging you to check your tickets just when you thought you could doze off.

The trains in the western world are, needless to say, different. For a start, they are extremely clean. They can be cozy, well, if the air con setting is correct, if not it can be quite chilly too. They are definitely fast, so you can really cover a lot of distance is not so much time. However, for  me, are 3 things about train rides here to back home that make a world of difference.

The uneventfulness, if I can say that is what doesn’t make me remember anything special about the train rides here. For a start, there is hardly any form of conversation with anyone, so you see I can sit there typing all this up! Secondly, it’s the food – the cold drinks, cold sandwiches and a few packs of chips (well…crisps as it’s called here) just don’t do it for me. God! Do I miss the fresh hot food coming out of the pantry car – and I am specifically talking about the Lalbagh Express which provided all this and enough entertainment for the rides back home. For a third, it’s the fact that it is so quiet which isn’t a bad thing, you can actually listen to music, read and sleep (if you can) at peace. But peculiar as it may seem I miss that Chug-Chug -Chuk-Chuk sound that is so characteristic of trains.

I have more stories to speak about my train rides 10 years ago than I have done in the past 6 years – and I know I have done more here than back home.

Nevertheless, the train journeys in the UK make you go through undramatic Rolling Meadows, the countryside is beautiful and can be quite picture perfect on a lovely day, but there is no huge change in the landscape – there is a monotony to it which is actually quite peaceful.

Train rides bring out the side of me which often does not surface.  It’s one of the few times when I don’t think much, the mind is inactive and just watching the scenes pass by taking in what comes along the journey

It's Engineered - Part 3

After a few years into this I can say that I kind of understood what I had to do for the rest of the journey - just don't think, take each day at a time and enjoy the ride. 

Well, it's fair to say that there is a method in the madness. The Part1 and Part2 shows the zombi-ness with which I was going through the course. I had now begun to somewhat like what I was doing. At least when it worked, it was a good subject to study. 

I did feel a bit under pressure that I had topped the class the previous semester and wanted to come out with a decent score - you know the one time wonder syndrome was haunting me through the 5th semester. I was scared that I would fail miserably again and this time it will be seen as a bigger thing. 

I did notice the attitude of everyone - the lecturers, the HOD, some of the class mates, the lab attendants change in favour of me. They all seemed to think that I am this hard working, good girl and didn't get any nasty stares or comments from anyone. 

The temporary confusion in 5th Sem was the choice of electives that we had. Needless to say, my confused brain had no clue of what to choose, what's good , also what's easy and so on. This was the same for the next few semesters to come as 2 subjects had to be electives. We did make our decision and I didn't have any major issues with any other than Power electronics - had have no clue about what this was all about. 

I was comfortable planning my semester and brought about a good study-play balance. I planned to do combined study with a friend of mine who was from a different branch (telecom) and a different college. We made it a point to study the 1 or 2 common subjects we had together. I also had a very dear friend come home every single day from the other end of the city to study together with me. If not for him, I don't think I would have had the interest, the motivation or drive to study anything. In a way owe my marks and my 'doing well with the studies' to this friend. 

The semester was packed with a fair amount of activities. We had a better plan in managing the books that seemed to disappear from the library really quick by getting them from an external library, did better sharing of notes and reference books. Planned to get xerox, yes! the 30paise ones well in advance. Planned little samosa chat outings. explored a few other restaurants, cafes near the college. Made it a point to window shop in pretty much every Handicraft sale that was around and had luncheons at each other's place just in the name of studying. 

Over innumerable courses of taste my mom's vegetable upma's to the lovely christmas cakes from another friend to the occassional Neer Dosa treats from another pal's mom we went through the busy days. 

We now knew all about where to get the cheapest components on SP Road to the books on Avenue Road, also made a point to have a 'VTU Syllabus' book as a backup which was easy to read and digest when compared to the huge reference books. 

With a few notes in the exam paper about - please-pass-me, I-need-36-to-pass to I-don't-know-the-answer-but-the-answer-is-in-this-book (I wrote this for Power electronics), I managed to pass and pass well. I was the topper for the university, thanks to a friend who told me as her college had put up a board of all university topper's in all branches and their college names. I had reached a stage where I didn't understand the scale of things - how important it was or how it might change my life. I am glad I didn't have a clue as it did not change anything in my life other than happier parents.

6th Semester introduces to the world of projects - a Mini project is what we had to complete. Our chance to design, document, implement and build something from scratch that will 'work'. Thanks to my dad who gave us an introduction and some space in his friend's little factory and we were ready with our project - 'Liquid Level Indicator & Controller'. It went down really well at college as we had attempted something that we were yet to study in the 7th sem. But what was a disaster was that we had no clue what we had designed as we took so much help to complete the project that nothing much had entered our brains. This whole project episode introduced us to the world of Electronic City and the travels there and typing an awful lot of pages on the computer where we had to search for letters and do 1 finger typing.

It was overall a good year and was happy with the 'I got hold of it feeling' and was also enjoying the subjects as I went along. 

It's Engineered - Part 2

So after the storm of Year1, a slight change is what is seen in the next year. By the way, did I forget to tell you about the bandh we had during our exams in Year 1 because Raj Kumar was kidnapped. That left us with just a few days off between year 1 and 2. Yeah! Things that happen!

Enter year 2 happened with half the class moving to their branch which was telecommunication, a few others who have moved on to take a branch change and few new faces who have moved into our branch from others. We also have a whole floor to ourselves in the building dedicated to Instrumentation, we have our own classrooms, department labs, HOD, lecturers and feel already quite an esteemed part of the process. Like a sense of cheap pride in belonging to something. 

There was still the factor of 'unknown' as I stepped through this year. I was aware of most things with the course - the 6theory+ 2labs per semester, the concept of internals & externals, the library books being unavailable, the 30p Xerox notes. But with every new year, new challenges happened.

We had our own lecturers and each came with their specialty (on and off the classroom). With it came the 'favouritism' and I obviously did not stand out in any way as a student, which did not help.  We either wrote notes all through the 1hr class or were distracted with the chain-smoker HOD holding the chalk-piece like a cigarette more than listening to him, or was trying not to laugh in the class of the lecturer who was Oh-so-delicate, or not move in the class of the hyper-alert-want-to-be-strict-lecturer, or try not to get caught in the foot-tapping-duster-banging-new-lecturer or try to understand what this lady-lecturer-who-dressed-like-a-housewife was doing here. (btw...learnt later that she was a gold medalist) 

The labs at our department were a disaster. They looked like they had not been cared for in a long long time.  We used to go in and spend almost 1/2 the allocated time in trying to find the components for the practicals in a big rubbish dump. Getting them to work was another story in itself. Don't know whether trying to understand the experiment was a bigger challenge or getting the components to work. To top that, we were divided into about 6-8 sub groups with 2 things working and we had to request fight to borrow the components from who got hold of it first. 

So, this whole episode introduced us to shopping with a completely different perspective. Commercial Street was replaced with SP Road, the plush shops of Brigade road was replaced with the electronic component shops on this SP Road, names like Adidas, Nike was changed to Vishal Electronics, Sangeetha electronics and a few others we frequented. Buying new books was never an option, so Avenue Road book shops and the road side pre-owned book stalls became our new best friend. It felt like I was running around like a headless chicken at times trying to get things rather than do something with them.

All this for joining a college which was termed a good one! 

Having classes in the morning kept us free most afternoons and evenings which gave us ample time to do the fun stuff. In between the dreams of we-will-do-this-when-we-have-more-money, we enjoyed the various adda's (hangouts) in the college. The staircase on the 7th floor where we shared the home-brought-food, the katte's (stone benches) around trees, hanging out in the dirtiest canteen one could have been to, cheap pleasures of having samosas and kachories and tea/coffee from the stalls outside college, the many lunch-outs at the various restaurants in Gandhi Bazaar and nearby areas became an every day life. We did treat ourselves to a matinee show or two and of course the trips to brigade road, MGs & commercial street had it's own excitement. 

Just stepping into the world of internet, we had our email accounts and played around sending each other one liners everyday. I remember having an account with chequemail.com which also sent me a cheque with Rs.50 for a month long use of emailing people. It seems like another world today.

Well...the 'studying' for exams would never have happened if not for the friends who helped do combined studies with me. Anyways... we only studied a few days before the exams and not otherwise. It became a norm. Oh! what fun it was doing those combined studies, I can't think of passing anything or 'understanding' anything in this year if not for the  studying together. Occasionally enjoying movies on DVD for a break. 

Semester 3 did end up being the nightmare I was dreading. I failed a lab. Well, let me not be humble and blame a few things -  a combination of me-not-understanding-the-subject + the components-not-working + i-got-one-of-the-toughest-experiments did not help me complete what I had to in the allocated time. The viva-voce was no more than a Hmmmm + Aaaah + Not sure + I-don't-know-the-answer-to-this.  Needless to say, I was totally shaken, I knew it the minute I finished the lab that this was not going to be a success. I broke down, cried like a baby with a friend beside me showing how a spring clip worked (See, Engineering all the way!), the way a spring clip bounces back in spite of being under pressure all the time. I think about this example even today when I am feeling crushed. 

So, the end of the 3rd semester was a FCD which we had previously craved for (First Class with Distinction- anything above 70%) however what it really showed up on my marks card was a big fat FAIL.  I don't have to mention what went through my dad's mind. The look he gave me when I announced my failure made me pray for the earth to suck me in. So, that was that. 

Just when I want to leave it behind and start fresh in the 4th sem I had to go through the embarrassment in class when every lecturer makes it a point to parade the topper of the class and failures of the class and me being the latter! Those who had scored less than me were still ok as they had managed to pass everything. It left me thinking I had to show this lot that I am not a bad student. So, 4th semester went through with the usual nuances of the course but with the determination to prove something. I don't think I had felt this bad about anything I had done or this determined about anything I was about to do ever in my life.  

Though with a bit of a chaos in planning the studies, the uncle (mentor) and cousin who had been through this course gave me all the books and notes they had which did come in handy. A K Sawhney's big fat book of Electrical and Electronic Measurements & Instrumentation became my new best friend. I joined Lab tuitions (eating more money from dad's pocket) to get through the 'failed' lab. This made it 6 theory + 3 labs for this semester. Again, the combined studies were a blessing and got me going. 

It was the day of the results and everyone from class were pouncing on the little department window with mesh on it inside which read the outcome of what you were in the past 6 months. The hyper-I-need-to-witness-the-reaction-of-students-getting-their-result lecturer and the I-love-to-give-a-piece-of-my-mind-to-every-student-and-make-them-feel-guilty-for-having-a-good-time lecturer were there to announce that I had failed again. Thank God that this was just them not-being-able-to-read-the-results-in-a-single-row - you see the name and university ID number are on the left hand corner of the results sheet with Internal marks, External marks and Pass/Fail for each subject in the middle area (which is 8*3 - 24 columns of data) and to the far right hand corner is what shows the grand finale of pass/fail and the Class in which you passed (if you did). So.... I was dejected all over again until this friend of mine shook me up to say that I had not only passed with an FCD but my marks were the highest for the entire class. That I had come first! Well... as they say, there is a first time for everything. 

What a mixed year that was. The first time I failed a subject and the first time I topped a class. I was happy, content and the heavy feeling I had carried with me for the 1/2 of the year was lifted but the sadness that I had failed stayed a little longer. The results of the lab came as a pass and I was relieved more than anything else. 

My dad just did not believe it and the uncle (mentor) was surprised how that happened!

Well.... I know it has been a bit of a story so far...1/2 way through the course and need to sustain the other half of the journey but at this point I was saying thank you to everyone who helped me get up and quietly enjoyed the moment. I would like to thank each and every one who stayed by me and let me know that it was no big deal. After all, today it doesn't matter that I had failed or that I had topped. 

Let me take a break from this.... Be back soon with 3 & 4. To be Continued.....

It's Engineered - Part 1

About  a decade ago was a time when I was excited about stepping into a new world, Having completed my university degree this was the time for me to get a job, have my own earning, be financially independent in a little way. 

The 4 years of engineering before that was some ride. Unlike most others who might have known what they wanted to achieve in life, I had no clue what I was getting into. This is my attempt to re-live those years of my life where I enjoyed what I did, but somehow had remained confused where it would lead me.

So, this is how it all started.....

I didn't score enough to get into a medical college which was my ambition in life...to be a doctor. I scored just about enough to get into a dental college but did I want to spend 5 years plus some more on studying teeth? Definitely didn't sound like the thing, it seemed like too much hard work. So, without further thought I jumped into the most obvious choice (obvious because I was getting a seat, many in the family had done this course and survived, the rest of the friends clan seemed to be opting for this as a choice of degree and career). 

I also had a mentor in my uncle who gave me that little extra push that this is a good option and reassured it won't kill me. The only illogical inputs I had were that I didn't want to pick architecture as a stream as it was a 5-year course and that I didn't want Computer science either as I didn't want to study anything where I couldn't touch and see things! So, I ended up with Instrumentation Technology just as it sounded alright and I knew two others in the family who had taken this subject.

All this for one of the key decisions in life!

I cannot really recollect the first few weeks in the college as there seemed to be crazy tension. We were in a class which had the 'Instrumentation (IT)' batch and the 'Telecommunication(Telecom)' batches together. Little had I known that the first year was common to everyone irrespective of what you had picked as your stream of engineering. Now, my mind which was full of IT had to park that thought for a year and get into the roller coaster ride of studying Physics, Chemistry, Maths (yes! all over again), Introductions to Mechanical, Civil, Electronics, Electrical, Engineering Drawing and any other branch of engineering one can think of, all in one go. I think back of it as so bizarre to have a basket of different subjects thrown in. 

I hadn't a clue why I was welding and soldering sheet metal wearing the bus conductor's uniform on one day and carrying a huge T-square and drawing sheets to draw objects I had never seen the use of, on another. I had no idea why I had to be scared careful of SOM (strength of materials) or understand the details of (re)-reading clarks tables or why 'Pointers' was so important as basics to any programming. With C-programming by Balaguruswamy to SOM by Bhavikatti as the books I always carried, I had no idea what gibberish was entering my brain trying to make sense of what was written in them. 

Having friends from Telecom meant that we wont be together from year 2. So, just as you were getting to know someone they are gone too soon. Some uber-bright students were already thinking about branch changes. My little brain did not think of this even as an option as I had been through this 'choosing your branch' process during CET (Entrance exam to get through a professional course) and did not want to re-visit those days of utter confusion again!

Unlike school and pre-university I was introduced to the world of 'reference books'.  6 theory + 2 labs every 6 months (semester aka sem) with each subject having at least 3 books to pick the notes from! To top that, the only place to go to for books being the college library and darn, even before you think about it as an option, the 4 copies of that book you so badly needed have already been taken by this geek-clan of your batch months before you knew where the library was!

So, here's welcome to the world of 30paise kerosene xerox (photocopies). So, by the end of each semester you have so many xerox notes from every tom dick and harry who called them important or 'superb-notes', that your room and your bed would smell like a petrol station. And you would have no way got through even 50% of it. So much for student-friendly options. 

In between the sessions of trying to imitate the lectures who kept us going - from the bespectacled Maths lecturer, to the lanky-I-hate girl-students chemistry professor, to the HOD of chemistry who dictated his love letter in the class, to the dramatic-new-trying-to-impress-and-get-a-grip-on-the-class Physics lecturer, to the I-put-THE-before-every-word in my sentence Drawing master, to the ferfectly funny mechanical engineering frofessor we prodded along from one class to another. 

Just as I was trying to find my bearings was yet another tension of internal exams and externals. The seniors seemed to take internals very lightly and so did I, after all I was trying to learn a thing or two from them. They qualified to know the system better as they had survived a year or two in this circus.  

Well... the gamble is this - Internal exams are for 25 marks and the externals are for 100 with a total of 125 that one can score per subject in the semester, The pass mark being 50/125. Well, you'd think that if you have 25/25 in internals all you need in the externals is a 25/100 which should not be hard. So very WRONG! You need to get a minimum of 35/100 to pass the externals however internals have no such concept of passing marks. 

So, with just 7, 11, 13 in some of the subjects I had managed in internals, I had to get the remainder in the externals which comes up to more than 35. The lesson about taking internals lightly was not quite right. For someone who had never really scored below 70, 35 seemed like so little but with the tension + Not-understanding-the-subject + I-don't-have-the-books + 'which-xerox-notes-to-read' its seemed like a herculean task. Well, somehow with or without the math I did manage to get through the year (even before I knew where it went) with a mere 65% thinking about those 95% days a year before and having upset my dad a tad bit. 

So with that I'd say Bye for now, I'll go and treat myself to the Rs.4 samosas and chai outside the college gate and have a quick semester break to continue the saga....

This happened to them (True Stories)

I find it quite hard to write stories, I see myself a better story teller when I am narrating it myself. I struggle to bring into words the intonations and the hand movements that are such a part of the 'talking me' which makes the story listen-able. 

My mother on the other hand is a brilliant story teller. Well, don't ask her about any movies (bollywood) that she has recently seen (especially if you want to watch it). She would have told it in such detail that you will be left tearing your hair apart if you happen to watch it. In fact, she would have glorified some parts of the film so much that you will also be disappointed that the director didn't do a good enough job of it. 

Well...these stories are true and have been narrated to me by the film encyclopedia that my mom is referred to fondly by my dad. I will try to do justice to the way it was narrated to me already knowing that something will be missed. 

Act of Kindness:

My ajji(grandma) is one of the most careful, conscious and responsible persons I have known. She is always alert about her surroundings and is very independent in her ways. (I do think that the 'being independent' part of me is something I get from her...ok, ok, now I won't get carried away talking about this). So, knowing for sure that she is more than capable of handling her things, her travels, her life my father also leaves her to her terms. One day when she got off the auto from her usual visits to the temple, she walked in excited to show my mother the new saree she had got for her (she keeps picking little things like this for all of us... how sweet). All that done she quickly realized that her little wallet was missing. She had about Rs.2000 and the most importantly the house keys. She was dejected and blamed herself for not being more careful. The sensitive side of her took the better of her and tears started rolling down.  All those thoughts of what was the driver's name (I should have read the board in the auto), what was the number plate, should have checked the seat before I got off were running through her mind and she was sad. My mother comforted her and being common sensical at a time like this called the police station and logged a complaint. Within about 1/2 an hour she received a call back saying that an auto driver has come back to hand over a purse. She was asked to visit the police station and there he was with ajji's purse and the contents intact. My mom rewarded him, thanked him kindly and happily got home. It goes without mention that ajji was elated. Such acts of kindness does exist even today and to have close encounters with it is so reassuring in the ways of the everyday world. 

Diamonds are forever:

It is a given that mom, ajji and the women of that generation coming from a middle to upper middle to the rich have always worn a pair of diamond earrings. It's like their daily jewelery. (wow, had never realized how fancy this sounds until I wrote this). Well... that's that. 

A few days after I was married and sent away, Amma and Appa had to visit Raichur for my mom's friend's father's 60th (they are like my mom's Godparents). It was a train ride and a taxi to get there with a visit to Mantralaya being a must do. Overnight train journeys in India are fun. Some decent planning needs to be done on the baggage mainly on how to secure it, the things required to sleep - air pillows, a bed spread, a cover, arrangements for food (the canteen food on train is usually good but you have take your chances with it). So, with all this my mother was crazy busy and finally at bed time sleep didn't beckon. The draft from the window made her toss and turn until it was a new day and time to get off at their station where the train halted for a mere 5 minutes. In between packing all the stuff, amma froze to realize that her earring was missing from one ear. They searched all over the little train compartment with no avail. Needless to say she was dejected, those earrings she has been wearing for a few decades, precious earrings and all in the span of a night. She silently removed the other, bought an artificial earring and had to carry on with the days. The thought never left her and the loss was huge for her. She couldn't help but think, talk, mention that loss where ever she went. As amma and appa were coming back from the temple on the hot day with my father walking way quicker than my mother she saw a sparkly object stuck to his chappals and Voila! it was the diamond earring! 

What a saga, the earring must have fallen in the train compartment and my dad might have stepped on it, the rubber beneath his chappals grabbing the earring, this could be the only explanation to what has happened. He walked on it for 2 full days before they found it. Well! Some miracles do happen! 

The Artiste & The Commoner

I have been blessed, lucky and fortunate to have been able to witness some of the finest musicians in concert and before my memory fails me I want to record some experiences that's left me totally mesmerised.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, I do live and breathe music and my family has been a huge influence in me being this way. 

I remember going to my first concerts by accompanying my grandma to fort high school where the annual ramanavami functions were held. As a kid, the hot pop-corn and the prasada at the end of the day was what I looked out for, but the enthusiasm that ajji had in the music and the excitement she used to show did make me think that I was witnessing something great. The likes of Bhimsen Joshi for his brilliance in Hindustani classical and bhajans, Balamurali krishna, the epitome of classical music, U Srinivas on his mandolin, Kunnakudi Vaidhyanathan on his violin, kadri gopalnath on saxophone, amjad ali khan on sarod amongst other icons. I didn't really understand the scale at which these musicians played and what great icons they were.  Today, I reflect back thinking how fortunate I was to have had a chance to be a part of it all. I have attended a few other concerts in India which I will pen about some other time. 

Living in London, I do have a better exposure to the music of the world however my heart yearns for the Indianess in the music. I keep looking out for any concert that happens here and have been really privileged to have had a chance to see some live performances. 

I am so insignificant to be writing about some of these huge greats, however thrilled that I am to count my blessings here I go.  This might be a completely utterly boring post to read so I don't blame you if you skip it. If you have nothing else to do why don't you read on.... 

Shri Ravi Shankar - This was at Barbican and literally the last 2 seats that I managed to bag. How thrilled was I when I got the tickets delivered. He was 90+ and had a whooping 9 decades of performing on stage. The sitar was so much a part of him, with ease he played, he sang while he played and was full of zeal. I had goose bumps for most of the time. It was sheer magic. After the concert, the entourage stepped out of the stage, but the standing ovation did not stop. Just when we thought it was done we see him peeping through the curtains and waving at us. How cute was that...such a small gesture from a great man. 

Ustad Zakir Hussain - This too was at Barbican, now the sound of this place makes me think about out of the world things, remember the experiences and mesmerize over it. What a live wire performance that was. He mentioned it would be a subdued show as there was a death of his mentor, about to cancel the show he remembered the words the 'show must go on' and was up on stage to perform. Can't imagine what a usual show would be like if this was a mellow one. He rocked it, master class for sure. Some highlights were how he co-ordinated the rhythm of the tabla with all other forms of music on the stage which included a folk musical instrument from Afghanistan. Can't wait to get a chance to see him again. 

Ustad Rahat Fateh Ali Khan - I was tracking him to see when his next performance was like no tomorrow. The minute I knew there was one, I just had to have the tickets. The show was held in the O2 arena - the scale of the concerts are accentuated by the venue to start with.  He walked in, sat down, said a hello and started. With the thrill of the harmonium, his hands moved the way the voice flowed. The tour was called the Voice from Heaven and it sure was. He sang non-stop for more than 45mins. The style being Sufi, Qawali, it was like being taken back to an old world like being in a mehfil e raat. His accompaniment was his family on stage who not only provided the background music, but heightened the master's voice further. 

Raghu Dixit - Oh My God! (well! I had to say it the way Chandler's ex-girl says it). One of the loudest, clearest and in-tune voices with anything this man brings on stage. Pure rockstar effect! The brilliant colourful attire to the poems and notes from the folk world and and to top it he sings Kannada songs and makes it sound so cool and easy. Two back to back concerts, one at Reading for the Kannada Sangha (with the most awful sound system ever) and the other at the Crawley mela (don't ask me where this place is). One man who re-defines rock music,  adds a namma huduga local feel to the international star that he is.

Indian Ocean - After thinking a 1000 times whether to book or not to book, I did it and it was worth every second of my life to have been a part of this brilliance. The show was at IndigO2, the smaller arena at O2 and we were really close to the stage. It's music that's composed and played from the heart and that touches your soul. Again, the folk music feel to fuse with the western instruments with notes from the great saints and words from the divine texts, it elevates the music to a level of its own. Not a minute of boredom, got entertained, learnt something new and fell in love with their music all over again. To top that we travelled back on the same (last) train with them and chatted along. Such a simple bunch of people yet geniuses in what they do. Can't wait for another chance. 

Atif Aslam - I booked this show in the O2 as Sonu Nigam was the key performer. Sonu Nigam didn't turn up so it was Atif all the way. What a powerhouse he was. I was completely bowled over by the performance, his voice which is known for all the Oooo o oooo's and Aaaa aa aa aaa's was worth every penny. He did total justice to his time and gave us a brilliant flavour of his talent using up the other artiste's time. 

Hariharan & Shivmani - I booked this mainly for the latter. What a drummer. He produced music with just about anything - the 40+ drum set that he had, jingles, wind chimes, water with gejje(anklets) and even a suitcase. It all seemed to be in completely harmony. He kept me on the edge of my seat all through. Hariharan perhaps has one of the smoothest voices I have ever heard. His mastery over the classical tones was clearly seen, I just couldn't buy in to the fusion element. 

Salim & Suleiman - The show was at Apollo Hammersmith and I didn't really know what to expect. They are music directors and not quite singers but well what does my little brain know about talents of the other human. They were a great bunch together and the music was enchanting. Benny Dayal's singing and the moon walk he did on stage was a definite highlight.

Bombay Jayshree & Shubha Mudgal - This was the first concert I attended in London on a cold Winter's evening at Southbank. A Carnatic & Hindustani music jugalbandi. The control each has on the classical music is surreal and the  merger of the two forms of music and to hear the notes weave in and out of the other was brilliant. There weren't too many instrumental accompaniments, the other highlight was the superb tabla player. I was a tad disappointed that Shubha didn't sing any of the bollywood songs I so loved and enjoyed (yeah.... I know, I know.. such a saddo to wish for Bolly flicks in a classical concert). Well.. Mathura Nagarapathi from Raincoat is so so beautiful, it just qualifies to be anywhere. 

Sonu Nigam - He came back! After missing him in a series of concerts that happened here was a chance to get him live at the Wembley arena. I must admit that the first 45 mins got me quite bored as the choice of songs he picked were not really what I liked. He does not have a strong, loud voice - a sheer comparison after having listened to Atif Aslam, Raghu Dixit and others. The second half of the show however was simply superb. He did an audience choice for a good part of the hour and sang many requests from the crowd (whatever he could lay his ears on as people went mental). His unplugged version of 'Abhi mujme kahi' from Agneepath was very touching, I had tears in my eyes. I really like it when a singer sings a soft melody with all seriousness. Something more mindblowing was his little son running up on stage and singing the same song and Kolaveri di. The innocent voice coupled by child pronunciations was out of this world...tears flowed down again. 

Shaan - This was a part of the BBC Proms that are held at the Royal Albert Hall every year. I was thrilled to know an Indian artiste was performing. Shaan was entertaining, peppy , however it seemed to miss the X-factor that WOW effect what I look for in a live concert. It was good, nevertheless.  

There is an END.

Firstly, for a few of you who thought this is the end of my blogging ability, you are wrong. This is not going to be my concluding post unless God would want it otherwise.

Life of Pi, by Yann Martel was a book I must say that was way too fictitious for my liking. The whole idea of a boy on a boat with a tiger and ending up on a island full of meercats was a little too out of scale for my imagination.  There however were many quotes in the book forming life lessons which kept me going. I knew there had to be a conclusion to it more human than fiction.
Well, this post is not about my review of the book or the movie which I think was beautifully shot. I find myself pretty insignificant in a writer's world to be able to put up reviews of another's work.

The sensitive me that I am at times got caught onto one such line - " I suppose in the end, the whole of life becomes an act of letting go, but what always hurts the most is not taking a moment to say goodbye".

As I tread through the path that life brings upon me I reflect what I have left behind more often than where I am headed towards. Knowing very well that what's gone is gone, what's done is done and there should 'ideally' be no looking back. This makes me think that I perhaps don't have the 'letting go' factor in me unlike a few others who can do it with great ease.

Always part ways with a smile - something that you have always heard the elders say. Do they allow you to leave home with a tear? No. They want to see you smiling, they'd want to see you happy. That parting note when leaving home with hugs and smiles and laughter is what makes you look forward to the next time that you see and greet each other again. There is a happy note which says that you will get together again.

On the other hand, when you part with a person on an argument, on a unpleasant note something is left undone. It bothers you day in and day out. The end that should not have been did not happen in the right way. There is always this uneasiness that you did not depart by saying a bye, for wishing well, for taking the memories along.....to the person, to that relationship that meant so much to you...you did not Complete it.

Some things are not always in our hands, death can bring that parting...when you are not prepared, when you were not expecting it, it leaves a void that cannot be erased. I hate myself a little more every time I think about my grand dad who passed away. I moved out of home to a far away land to start my home, never did I think even once on that early morning when I was stepping into the car to drive away to the airport that I would not see him again, talk to him again. It took a phone call of 50bucks on a cold morning to hear that he is no more. I still don't know how to handle my emotions when I think about this.

At the end of the day, at every instant, with everyone around you, I always think that I haven't grown out of it, I have not moved away from the thought, but when you actually see it in the end the whole life indeed is an act of letting go....we all let go and when we think about that someone, that something it is nothing but a memory.
When the mother gives birth to her baby, she's letting go of the physical connection she had, when we leave our parents and go away to study, to work, we are letting go the pat of being bound to, our parents on the other hand are letting go of the fear, when two people get married and decide to spend the rest of their lives together they are letting go of all other priorities that they had in life, when death do us apart from a loved one, we let go... we carry on with our lives and stop to spare a thought.

I do think that I get stuck onto things, events, people a lot more than another person.....I would like to go back and shake a hand, say a hello, give a hug and re-start where I have left......but, along the path of life and towards the end of a path.........
We only think that we haven't let go.... but we all have...and will continue to do so.

The Perfect Road Trip

I have to admit that the contest ' The Perfect Road Trip' on Indiblogger got me writing this. 

This trip brings back fond memories of those carefree days. A trip that 5 friends took without much planning, without knowing where to go. It also makes me feel bad about where each of us are today. 

We friends often met up at a little chaat shop on random weekends. In between the conversations we ended up making plans of various travels we all wanted to do together. These were lists made on tissue paper over numerous cups of coffee. Though most of those made it's way to the dustbin, one lived on. All that the list had was a date written on it  with 'Mysore Road' and a promise made to each other to stick to it no matter what.

Days rolled by and we got busy with our routines until that week. We were determined to keep up to our promises and left everything to go on our weekend away. It was my friend's husband's Alto that we took rolling on the Mysore Road - the new highway that was laid down to connect the two cities. 

The road trip started with a quick pit-stop at Bidadi for the famous 'Thatte idly'. We sat down and made a rough plan for the trip. We decided to head towards 'GopalaSwamy Betta', the hill that rises high, overlooking Bandipur. The overnight stay would be in Mysore, for Day 2 we planned to head towards KRS and then make our way back to Bangalore. 

Further down the road after a quick stop for 'Maddur Vada' we took a detour. One of us remembered hearing about a huge lake in a village some 20kms off the main highway. I still don't remember the name of the village or the lake.  It was nothing like what we had seen before. We drove up a little hillock to a huge bund, climbing a dozen steps up the bund was this lake with its pristine waters. At one end of it were many fishermen doing their work for the day. A couple of my friends who had no control on their taste buds went by to a little fisherman's hut to taste the catch telling us vegetarians what we are missing out - oh! you know that story.

Moving on we headed straight towards GopalaSwamy Betta with a quick stop for lunch mid-way. The Hill was much bigger than we expected, had a small temple with a few temple shops.... one of the most unadulterated places I have ever seen. We then went for a walk on the summit, breathtaking views of the Bandipur National Park, we were excited to watch the herd of elephants, lots of deer and a brilliant sunset. 

It was getting dark and we decided to head back to Mysore and find a place to stay. Without fussing about much we stayed at Dasaprakash. The night's dinner was at the Parklane Restaurant & Beer Bar which has a very unique decor...that of a garden or a forest with loads of plants and creepers around the tables. The most unique part was the way you call a waiter - there was a switch hanging in the centre of the table to light a lamp at the top of the table informing the waiter. Pretty much like how you call the air stewardess on a aircraft. 

We made our way back to the hotel seeing the well lit Mysore Palace. We called it a night by playing a few card games. 

The next started early, after a tasty serving of good old South Indian breakfast we headed towards KRS. None of us wanted to do the usual dam visit and the Brindavan gardens with its truck loads of tourists. Instead we took another detour and made our way to Blue Lagoon - where the reservoir is. We stopped by a tiny village where there was a Saturday market (Shanivara Santhe). While a couple of us bought some veggies, fruit and other random stuff, the guys stopped by the local booze shop.

We had to cross a farm land manned by this old grandpa who royally collected 50bucks per person to get past his land to reach the blue lagoon ( we were not too sure if this is what it was called).

Basically, this was the land that had surfaced up when the water was not too high. There was water all around as far as the eye can see and the view of the dam - the entire length of it which was a sight to remember. 

We played in the water, cooked food from the stuff we picked at the local market, had beer which was cooled on the river bed.

It was the most simple road trip we ever had. We had no idea where we were heading to and what we would see. We ended up going to places we had never heard before, eating at places we had never visited before and overall had the most refreshing breaks to beat the mundane routine. 

Daddy Dearest

Dad and Mom, Appa and Amma are two people I have always wanted to write about but have never managed to. Today I try to pen a few thoughts about my dad, my dear appa, about what I think about him, what he means to me and show my affection for him. I often find it hard to express this to him, many a times I have sat in the same room as he is in thinking I should say it all but kept silent talking about every other thing. This is going to be a very feeble attempt to convey my thoughts, feelings in words. I wanted to make use of the day, Fathers day to remember him a little more than I always do. ( I do have had my issues with named days, will talk about that another day)

I resemble my dad and many people say so. Most people also say that the similarities end there and my personality goes completely by my mom. I silently agreed to it.

In the past few years that I have lived away from my parents and I have started thinking a lot more about them I reflect on how many things are common between dad and me, how similar I am to him. Now, this is not going to be about me, but about him, about those things in him that I would probably never tell him or anyone personally, like in a conversation.

Dad is one of the most caring people I have seen (apart from my grandfather). This trait in him does not come across to many as he remains aloof seeming a bit cut off or uninterested about anything happening. However, in time of need, when someone needs to stand, he is there. When the work is done and when all is well he silently disappears from the scene without leaving a trace that he was there.

He values his family more than many other things. I mean the extended family too. He never had any siblings but being brought up with cousins under one roof makes him think about them as one. He misses them, he misses the good old times he had with them through their childhood and cherishes the memories. Things have moved on and people have moved on, dad too has carried on with his, but somehow when he meets this bunch, he wants time to stand still and stay young again. This is how I feel when he talks about them, refers to them and does get a little disheartned about what relationships have come to when he meets them.

Dad's been heading a factory unit for years now. Though it's real hard work which strains him mentally and physically day after day, I think he is perfectly cut out for it. He is completely in his element when at work and I am sure it's one of the best jobs he could have had for his personality. A bank job, an office desk job would have bored him to death.

Dad finds it extremely hard to ask something of someone. He finds it really hard to take something, demand for something that is actually his own.... A lending hand that he is. Many mistake this as being really well off. Others take it for granted, some others also conclude that he should do it...after all let him pay, let him give.... Dad would never tell anyone about his hard times whether things are good, ok or bad....no one would ever know.

He has a few friends from college and childhood and not many more. He is in touch with most of them if not all...a typical man thing - wont try hard to stay in touch, when they do, it's great times.

In-spite of all, I somehow think that he is lonely in some way.

He loves me a lot, he misses me a lot and even though we speak for just a couple of mins when I call, I can sense the pride and joy he's had that his daughter had called him. I wish I never let him down in any way and would like to see him happy no matter what. I also hope he learns how to relax and take it easy....he's stubborn to even listen to it.

Most people think about their parents this way. I am no differrent. I love them, respect them and owe whatever I am today to them.

If there is someone who has stood by me and believed in my dreams and have fulfilled my little wishes ....it is Appa & Amma. My mom at least says a few words, expresses it...but dad....is silently there, watching me as I walk, as I grow and as I move on with my life.

Bangalore Diaries

My mind is still fresh with the memories of my visit to home and home town. I sense a rush in me to complete this write up, I also sense the restlessness that I will not do justice in translating my thoughts to this blog. 

There is something about Bangalore (for me its specifically South Bangalore) that is hard to explain especially to someone who doesn't belong to it. They just don't get what the gaga is all about. 

Let's face it. It's not the best city on earth. It definitely does not score any points on the infrastructure aspect of it. It has too many people. It's become very expensive. The traffic is a mess and the weather isn't great anymore. In spite of all this there is a certain old world charm that stays hand in hand with the progress of modern day. 

I noticed myself noticing certain things that make a difference to me. Some of them are so simple, so silly that I was surprised that I was even bothering about it. This is what makes it home for me and makes the place unique. There are many memories etched in many different places  that makes me go back to it. 

Most of the main streets in Bangalore have huge trees on either sides of the road, the names of which I know not . It forms a beautiful canopy to the main, typically traffic clogged road. The tree lined streets for the residential areas blooming with May flowers form a pretty sight. Most houses have a coconut tree or two, the sky scape is filled with high flying coconut trees. In season, Mango trees everywhere are completely clad with fruit. 

As you step out in the hot summer sun, the majjige from Nandini diary cools you. Just as you think that the days are too hot and unbearable, the evening brings with it summer showers and makes the air pleasant like there was no heat.  The morning after the rains are the best, the air is fresh, all the trees having had their wash, the green looks greener.

Though, a big city, residential areas do have a community feel to it with most of the residents having lived there for 30+ years.

That street side vegetable vendor who saw me after ages enquired how Pune was, remembering that I worked there when I first had a job, something which is fading away from my own memory.  Makes me remember the other vegetable vendor who came to the same street every day at 4:30pm for 32years. If that seems long, the gentleman who brings butter and door delivers it every 3rd Sunday so my grandma can make ghee has been visiting us for 45years. 

I will have to write about Prakash who runs a little 'Masala Puri Gaadi', we overheard someone calling him this, years later we found out that his actual name was shivanna. Eating paani puris from him are so entertaining. He incorporates cricketing terms while he's serving the gol guppas one after the other. He usually serves it for 3-4 people at a time on a round robin basis and treats them as a team of players, actually batsmen. He throws in an extra piece in between and calls it a no ball. If while placing the puri on the plate, it breaks , he calls it a dead ball. If the puri is a huge one, he terms that a googly. Just after one plate is done, he asks if we are ready for another over and if we are done he declares us Out and calls out to the next team to play the new over. I cannot think of this happening anywhere else. 

It was the time of the year when then SSLC and PUC results were out. The newspaper was full of it. The talk from the maid, to the milkman was about someone who scored well, oasis with flying colours and their ambitions. It's that phase every child in India who's fortunate enough to get education goes through. So much is decided about your life at these two points.

There is a balance in life that most people do. I saw myself going for a walk in lalbagh, attending a wedding, visiting the temple for a puja, watching a movie, catching up with a friend at a coffee shop and going out to the pub all on the same day. The variety of activities that's thrown at you is so random.

I could perhaps go on and on about many things and each line will be out of sync with the others. What I feel about being in Bangalore and what I do there cannot happen anywhere else in the world and no matter how much I try, I can't express well enough in words. 

A Place called 4th Block Jayanagar

I recollect 4th block Jayanagar that was a huge part of my childhood to what it is today. It is very hard to explain what's so good about the place or why I think of it as a place close to my heart. Someone who's not from here will not get it. For me, it's not about exaggerating in flowery language what it is, when it comes to home and home bound memories, one tends to speak about it this way....

It was the closest shopping centre near home, school and the initial years of my college. We went there not just to shop for essentials, it was a place we decided to go for a walk, just coz it was evening and we decided to step out, just coz we had no other place to go, it was the most convenient option. 

4th block Jayanagar shows a little modern side to it when compared to the other markets nearby like Gandhi Bazaar or NR Colony. For some things Gandhi Bazaar is the best, but 4th block has its own unique answer to what can it offer.  I am going to 'Complex' and everyone could guess what the agenda would be like.It's more spread out and hence you need to plan your route.  Though you can find pretty much everything, my route around 4th block is accentuated by the many food and drink pit stops. 

As kids we had spent many afternoons and evenings playing at the little fountain area in the centre of the complex. The evening outing ended in getting an ice cream and pop corn. Our parents enjoying some delicious chaat.

As a little girl in school, I have frequented many visits to Collette's beauty parlour. The authentic chinese way of doing hair. Sitting in the waiting area flipping magazines with glossy pictures, I waited for my mom to get her eyebrows done or have a quick trim. 

Our special dinner evening was spent in the plain comfort of the Canton restaurant serving Chinese food, perhaps the place that got me liking the cuisine. We also frequented innumerable chaat shops, most of which have been replaced by other similar businesses or shut without a trace. 

The Nagasri book house is a must visit for me. The little conversation with the owner of the shop makes a world of difference to any other book shop. 

Sugarcane juice shop used to be one of the highlights, now replaced by Cane-o-la serving it in a smart way. 

A stop at the Shenoy stores for junk food, it's hard to leave this store without picking atleast one extra item which was not on your original list.

The dosa camp has died down now but stays in memory about the various varieties of dosa and the speed of service.  About two decades ago there used to be  a little chaat shop called Bharath Cafe, which happened to be one of my parents' favourite places,  his ragada patrice was the best.

Hot chips was the hot favourite when we were in college. Depending othe budget for the day we picked spring rolls or pav bhaji. The vegetable sandwich and tomato soup at cool joint was ultimate for a quick snack with friends.....of course we had to share it as we couldn't afford the whole sandwich. Having Mango milkshake at Ganesh juice centre never went amiss on a hot summer day.

The opening of Cafe Coffee Day gave us another reason to visit. How cool was it to have our own fancy coffee shop as an adda. We used to spend hours catching up with friends, friends of friends and have conversations about nothing in particular.

Kalmane Koffee with a coffee shop in conjunction to the Sankara Book shop added a whole new dimension to the coffee shop concept. His filter coffee was superb.

My notes on 4th block will not be complete without the mention of a few bakeries. JB bakery was by far the most popular for his freshly baked palya buns and vegetable puff. Janardhana Bakery remains my favourite mainly for his benne biscuit and nippattu. Vijaya bakery it heart of the complex, mainly frequented for the Japanese cake. 

There were atleast another dozen places which leaves a note down the memory lane.....Watching a random movie in Nanda theatre. Some authentic Iyengar food at Kadambam. Shopping for chic clothing at 'Show Off' and 'Come fall in love'. Getting fresh coffee powder at Aromatic. One stop shop for getting dressed up at the Bhavani Bangle store. Band Box dry cleaners to get a fresh look for the special clothing. The boring stop by at Balaji Medicals. First sights of the western wear and way at Adidas, Woodland, Wildcraft. A stroll around Aane Bande Road. For sundaes and treats at Icy Nicy. For engineering books at Book Paradise. Black forest Pastries at Sweet Chariot. The various butti Paani puri guys. The excitement of getting our photos developed at Vijaya Studio.

This was my old world at 4th block Complex. Today, with it's traffic, people, chaos the experience isn't the same, but the charm has not died. I am happy going there and most importantly it still feels like home. 

Summer Holidays

I keep going back in time to try and relive some cherished moments. I very often wonder whether I'd do the same after 20+ years about the present day..... I wonder what I would think about... there seems nothing so special about the current life. Well....I'll ponder about it some other day.

I am going to be writing about my summer vacation during school, those 2 months of all play, no books, no exams, and no rules. I am sure each one of us has a long story to weave about this one.

We (amma, brother and me) visited my maternal grandparents every year for more than a month during this time. Our other cousins with my aunt came there too. (we called my grandparents ambu ajji and dada and often referred to the home simply as ajji mane)

As my grandparent’s house was adjacent to another close relatives’, more cousins, second cousins, aunts & friends used to join in. In short, it was one huge unending party.

Ajji mane had a huge garden with 2 large mango trees, a jackfruit tree, mulberry plant amongst many other shrubs, plants, trees -small and big. As it was the season of the mangoes, there were at least 2-3 days spent in getting the mangoes plucked, picking them, sorting them and sharing them with neighbours, friends and relatives. Then came ajji's turn in making delicacies with mango one wouldn't have thought of.

Once the mango activity died down, my cousins and I settled down to play games which are both indoor and outdoor. Most often we used to play carrom board (reminds me to tell you that my colleagues in the UK had never heard of this game!), cards, Chinese chequers amongst traditional ones like kunte bille, chowkha baarah, pagadi and more modern ones like badminton and cricket - needless to say that we used to pick the sport either looking at the time of the day or when we had a bad fight on the previous game and had to start something new to forget and move on.

It also used to be the time of torrential rains, you know when it gets really hot, it tends to pour it down on a certain day. Those days were great fun! Play in the rain and have bhaji's in the evening as a treat. I remember this huge tree outside ajji's home which had big orange flowers covered with a shell that resembled a boat, we called it the boat tree (no points for guessing this one). The rains used to bring this down and we loved playing with these in the rain making little rivers out of pathways. 

Ambu ajji was one of the best cooks and the most hospitable people I have ever seen. 

Every night we gathered around her for her numerous stories - the likes of Ramayana, Mahabharata, aesops fables and panchatantra. While she told us the stories, she fed us our dinner by giving us Kai thutthu ( she made balls of rice and each of us get a piece of it in a round robin basis, we carry on doing this, on most occasions until the food runs out - while I write this, I can't help but chuckle at my description in English!) - Of course we ended up eating much more than we would have if it was served separately to us.

The other activity was getting Mehendi on our hands (the western world calls it henna art - something that makes me grin every time I hear it!). My dear mom was the artist, we all got to pick a design from a little book and take turns in getting it done. The next morning's activity was sorted as we spent time comparing designs, the shades, and colour of the patterns on our hands.

Those were the times when TV meant only DD with one movie every week. So, the luxury we received was to rent a VCD player for a few days and rent tapes to watch every night and during hot afternoons. It used to be a mini cinema hall as about 25-30 people gathered in the tiny living room to be a part of this occasion. I had my first Hindi lessons watching the classics ....sangam, shree 420, khamoshi to name a few.

Dada, as we fondly called my grandpa just loved children. Every evening he used to take all us kids out for a stroll either to LalBagh, Bugle Rock, Hanumanthana betta or Gandhi Bazaar ( there is no place like south Bangalore). He often resembled a pied piper with children following him. The evening stroll with him also came with treats in the name of ice creams, roasted peanuts or chocolates.  We used to be thrilled.

In between all this, I came up with this idea of holding entertainment programmes (EPs. A show we put up and have music, plays, jokes, monoacts, quizzes, dance and drama in it. I am quite proud of this little activity which I started. Age-wise, I was bang in the middle of the crowd, the older cousins thought I was too young, however, the younger ones thought I was the big sis they could look up to - I adored the attention. So, I got my younger cousin sis and my brother and we three formed our little entertainment company.  We did, if i recollect it, around 9 such EPs and it was a huge thing, everyone liked it....I wish I can get my hands on the feedback forms which we had asked all to write. 

It was a simple life, with simple aspirations; so generally, we always had a good time. Those days are never going to come back and I guess our next generation will somehow always miss the joys in simple things.  I cherish those days - it was called Summer Holidays for a reason and we made the most of it.