The joys of reading

Only the eyes changed expression. He gave the impression of being a thinker and a fighter, a man who could work with infinite patience to jockey an adversary into just the right position, and then finish him with one terrific punch.

…………

“Nobody ever called on me to organize a corporation, and I’ve never yet probated an estate. I haven’t drawn up over a dozen contracts in my life, and I wouldn’t know how to go about foreclosing a mortgage. People that come to me don’t come to because they like the looks of my eyes, or the way my office is furnished, or because they’ve known me at a club. They come to me because they need me. They come to me because they want to hire me for what I can do.”

She (the client) looked up at him then. “Just what is it that you do, Mr. Mason?” she asked.

He snapped out two words at her. “I fight!”

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That was Perry Mason (the defense lawyer) in the "Case of the Velvet Claws" by Erle Stanley Gardner. I looked up to give myself a break. I had been sitting in the library. There were two 11 year old boys sitting in the front seat fighting and fooling around. I was surprised. When did the boys get in there? When I had sat at the bench with the Perry Mason, there had been a quiet girl sitting with a book in my front seat. She had not looked very interested in the book. She sat there turning the pages of her book and seemed to be whiling her time away.

The loud cry from the boys in the front seat, broke my reverie again. It took me a while to bring myself to my world around. I looked at my watch. One and half hours had passed by since I had sat in the library. I realized I had been lost in my book.

As I was growing up, books have been a constant companion. I remember, we were allowed to take one book from the school library every week. I would take one book, finish reading it in two days. There were times, I would get home at two pm and by seven pm I would finish a 400 page Nancy Drew. Once I finished reading my book, I would go to school eagerly the next day, to exchange my book with a friend's. By the next library period, I would have read atleast three books.

Other than reading books in the afternoons, we would read novels in the nights. Nights were meant to be study time. And parents were always checking on us to see if we were studying. So, we would take a full scape book, hide the small novel within the full scape book and read it as if we were reading our school assignment. It worked most of the times with dad, but mom always caught us.

Barely able to conceal her mischievous smile, she would say in a stern voice “Veena, remove the novel from with in the book.”

Well!

I have enjoyed the time I spent reading so much, that whenever I think about my childhood and books, it always manages to bring a smile on my face.

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My first entrepreneurship -The library

When was the first time you created something, ran it as a business, had costumers and made a revenue. No.. I am not talking about the business you ran after you graduated from college..No.. Not that.. Go a little back... It could be games stall you could have put up in the annual school fair or some services you could have provided for which you would have earned money, way back when you were in school.

The one I started was when I was around 8 years old and even today it brings a smile on my face when I remember it.

It was a library that we had started.

One evening as I was playing on the terrace of a friend's home, I overheard her mother share with another aunty that the children in a nearby colony had started a library. In my mind I thought, “We too have a lot of books…”

We did read a lot - my brother, especially, was known for his interest in reading and we had a huge collection of Amar Chitra Kathas(ACK) at home. Brother read the ACKs and I read the Twinkles:) And of course, there would be the odd chacha choudaris or Phantoms or an Alice in Wonderlands. “But yes! We did have books!” I thought as I slept that night.

The next day, I woke up with a plan in my mind.

I needed a team :D and I spoke to my brother and the two next door neighbourhood girls and enrolled them in to the idea of starting the library.

We put all our story books together and made a collection of about 25 books - not bad at all to start a library. And then we looked for a big bath tub.

Why did I need a bath tub? Because my friend's mother had mentioned that those children had kept their books in bath tubs. So of course, we needed a bath tub to keep our books.

We finally found two huge bath tubs in my neighbour's house and borrowed it. We placed the books in the bath tub – we placed the books vertically and then placed them horizontally and then placed them against the bath tub sides – but the books just wouldn’t stay. Finally, after some juggling, we did find an arrangement to display the books. We fixed a membership fee at two rupees per person.

The next thing we needed to do was marketing - so we made small handwritten pamplets and went to each of our friends house to distribute them. The aunties there seemed to be curious and amused at our idea. Some of them seemed incredulous. Well, it was embarrassing - but we went about our duties. In the silent moments I would have in between setting up a library, I would silently wonder though - what was the incredulous look about. :D

The library started the next day – two bath tubs and twenty five books. Five friends came in and enrolled into the library. The library was operational! We had started with zero investment and we had made ten rupees too!

Now the big question, what could we do with the ten rupees? So we discussed and bought two new amar chitra kathas.

At the start of day 2 we had two new amar chitra kathas and more curiosities from some more aunties.

Not knowing what more to do with the library and not able to handle the curious attention, we sat together at the end of day 3 to decide the fate and future of our library.

And here was what we decided - The two new ACKs would go to the neighbourhood girls who had contributed their books. The tubs would go back to its rightful owner. We would ensure that the borrowed books would be returned back to the library and we would close down our first successful venture.

What was your first entrepreneurship ? :)

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Chintu ? :)

That is what I asked *Guru Mathur, the person who had requested to add himself as my friend on facebook.


*Chintu ? :)


Rewind 25 years. Our family of four had just come to a new city - far away from the hustle bustle of Mumbai. We had come to a different state and had found a house in a brand new apartment. I was around 8 years and my brother 10 years. I befriended a few neighbourhood girls and my brother befriended two or three boys.


One of the boys whom my brother had befriended was a young boy of eight. He wore tight, rexin, short, shorts and a tighter t-shirt. They played cricket, cards together and practically lived in each other's houses. We called him Chintu.


Those were the days of fiat and ambassador cars. The maruti 800 had not yet come in. The *bank with which my dad used to work, had given dad too a brand new ambassador car. It was grey, had a huge chest and big round bum and we loved it. On a lazy sunday morning, for the want of engaging the bratty two of us into some useful activity, dad asked us to clean our brand new ambassador car. I got the bucket out and my brother got few wiping clothes and within no time, we were cleaning the car. Me atop the front part vigorously wiping it, my brother atop the back one, and each of our numerous friends swinging on and cleaning each of the doors - and Chintu on the top!


One another day my brother was playing cricket with a few of his friends and I saw Chintu standing behind our big grey ambassador. I glanced at my brother inquiringly, and my brother barely able to conceal his smile, pointed at a sleeping dog nearby. Apparently Chintu was frightened of dogs and he was hiding from it. Somewhere in all the playing and fun together, we had also heard that he was called Gurunandan in school.


Chintu's father used to be a business man and they lived in a joint family and had the fiat car. My father used to work in a bank. This meant that Chintu's family was a little better off than ours. It hardly mattered to us.


Eventually we all grew up. We all went our own ways and lost touch. We all went through life! We went through the ups and downs of it. I heard from a few old friends that, today, Chintu is a senior manager in a Media firm. They said his pictures look like he is partying and rubbing shoulders with hob-snobs of the industry. My brother himself has worked hard his way up to senior management of a leading Telecom* company. But then that was just heard and forgotten. And after all who remembers friends from 25 years back when life is happening now!


On the other hand should I say, who forgets such friends!


Because one fine day, as I was busy with my life and going through it, something made me stop. And smile. It was a friend request. It said Guru Mathur - Media director. Was it Gurunandan after all these years? – I had goose bumps.


I accepted the friend request, smiled and asked him -


Chintu ?:)


I waited eagerly.


I was not disappointed.


The reply to my question said - Ya.. ! How are you doing ?Feels nice to hear that !:) Its been a while since anyone has called me by that name !
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*some details have been changed to protect privacy

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Kindness of strangers

It had been a tough day for her that day. She had been handling irate customers since morning and had ended up getting delayed by an hour to pick up her cute little 8 yr old son and 10 year old daughter from school - which meant instead of the usual 5 pm, she ended up being in the school at six. To top it all, it had started drizzling.

It would be dark by the time they would reach home.

Things couldn’t have got worse !– she thought .

The faces of her eagerly waiting children on the gate of the school brought a small smile to her tired face. She hugged them and together they got into an already crowded bus and stood patiently albeit completely exhausted, to make the one hour journey standing along with people –a lot of them half wet and half sweaty. Uh ! How I wish I were at home right now! – she thought. The rain had intensified and she could hardly see anything outside.

As they neared their stop a good two hours later ( the heavy rains had caused traffic jams through out the city ), she gathered her children again, put them in the line of people who were exiting the bus. Collecting the folds of her saree, clutching her office bag, managing the umbrella in one hand and the children in another hand, she got down into the dark, lonely, rainy bus-stop - getting all set to start the last lap of her journey home – a two km walk from the bus-stop to their apartment.

She had walked about 5-10 steps with her children in the splashing rains, when she heard a voice from the back. To her surprise, it was the driver of the bus she had just alighted from, calling her.

Where do you have to go- he asked loudly making himself heard above the loud pouring of the heavy rain.

The house is a 2 KM down the lane – she shouted back.

Perhaps it was the heavy rains, perhaps it was her already difficult situation, perhaps it was the face of those two innocent children that she was trying to manage. Perhaps he did not like the look of the lonely road that the three of them were to walk down. God knows what came over the kind driver that day. He did something he had never ever done before. He knew it was not his regular duty and there might be people who might question him. But he did what his conscience called him to do. He said without showing any trace of emotion on his face- get back in - I will drop you to the house.

She was stupefied and stunned. She had been famished and hapless enough - and the two km walk on the muddy road in the rain would have been really messy and maybe a little scary. She couldn’t believe her ears and her good fortune. She accepted the help with a grateful smile and climbed back into the bus.

The bus took a two km diversion from its normal route and dropped the young mother and the children to their apartment gate.

It had happened at least 25 years back. Life has moved on and she has long retired from her job. But the gratitude that she and her children feel for the unknown driver whose spontaneous timely gesture of help at her frustrating situation, still lingers and the memories of that night have stayed in their minds forever.

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Just like that...

It was a brand new day - a fresh start for a young teenager who was nearing the end of her teens. She was getting ready to go to her college. Today she was happy - well ! happier than the rest of the days. Life was so beautiful. She had lovely friends, great teachers and interesting subjects to study. What more could she want!

She had her bath. She had a new dress to wear today - a white colour salwar kameez. It was not often she wore a salwar kameez. She was more used to wearing skirts. Wearing a salwar kameez once in a while made her feel so good. Besides this one was white in colour - she loved whites! And it had a brand new white chiffon dupatta to match!

She put on her dress. Put on a dash of deodorant and rushed off to her college in her kinetic honda. Once she reached college - she parked her honda - picked her books and walked towards her department. It was half a km long walk.

She loved walking through the corridors of her college. It was a old palace converted in to a university. The ceilings were high, the corridors had the mughal architecture. Some corners had circular iron stairs that had become rotten with time, and if you knew the right places you could also see the old chandeliers hanging. There were old Ashoka trees all around the campus.

Today as she had crossed one building and she was going towards the other, she could not help notice the bright green on the surrounding trees - it was spring! Almost every other tree had flowered. It was early morning so the sun was not too harsh. The breeze was gentle and cool and was in a direction opposite to her direction of walk. She couldnt help enjoying the brush of breeze on her face and the smell of the newly blossomed flowers. She closed her eyes, spread her dupatta over her body and walked through the 100 mts feeling the chiffon of the dupatta clinging on herself against the wind.

After a long 15 second walk, something woke her up from her reverie. She remembered where she was and opened her eyes - to her surprise, she could see boys of her class and her seniors watching her "walk". They were as young as she was - so obviously they weren’t staring, but they were struggling to watch her through the corner of their eyes – perhaps as mesmerized as herself by the beauty of the situation.

Her walk and her actions had been so impromptu - hence the attention that she had attracted was completely a surprise for her. Besides she was not used to so much of attention. Here in college, she liked to be more known for her intellect. She couldnt help blushing though - she quickly folded her dupatta, straightened her bag, lowered her gaze, quickened her pace and rushed towards her classroom. The guys watching her too, noticing that they had been caught staring, quickly averted their gaze and returned back to whatever they were doing.

Once inside the safety of her classroom, though, she couldnt help recollecting the beautiful morning that she had experienced today ! The memories of this morning would be there to stay for a long long time to come ! :)

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Note : The photograph on this post is from http://themistwolfpass.wordpress.com/ . Due acknowledgement goes to the photographer.

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A friend on the train...

When I was young, long train journeys were much more common than flights. What with flight costs being very expensive and only affordable by the affluent few. The plus side of these long journeys would be that we would get umpteen chances to meet new people and make new friends. These journeys used to be fascinating.

When I started traveling alone, I very naturally started to mix and bond with fellow travellers. I used to study in Gujarat when my dad was working at Delhi - so every vacation, I would make this long one day trip to Delhi in the Nizamuddin express. One of those trips, I remember meeting a young lady in her mid twenties , wearing a bright sky blue colored salwar kameez , having long braided hair, a little tanned skin, wore spectacles and had the most friendly, bright and open-hearted smile. Something about the way she dressed or spoke, made me confused about which part of India she came from. She looked more from the south, but from the way she spoke, she sounded a north indian.

It did not take more than a hello ! to get her to talk - as I already said, her face and smile looked friendly. She told me that she was a Tamil brahmin married to a punjabi sardar. Suddenly everything fell in to place - Her dusky, be spectacled, long haired look along with the very well fit, stylish salwar kameez. Her openness more common in the north Indians than with the south Indians. We got talking quite a bit - me sharing my difficulties of a student life and she sharing how she had initially found it a little difficult to adjust to the extremely open, demonstrative and loud Punjabi husband and in-laws of hers (Being loud and open is a trait that is very un-common with the south Indians :) :) ). I could only laugh heartily imagining the situations that she would be subjected to. We laughed and talked our way to Delhi - exchanged nos. and addresses for sure - but then some friendships that seem so deep on these journeys are eventually forgotten.

Another journey I remember was when I was in Mumbai and again going to Delhi to meet my parents with a group of my office colleagues. I had just known one of the colleagues well, the rest were his friends. But we bonded very well in the journey. I still remember putting on the yellow light in our compartment and singing old hindi-Kishore kumar, Lata mangeshkar and Asha Bhonsale songs late into the night and spending time sharing our life till we reached our destination the next day.

And yet another time, I remember I was going to Mumbai from Gujarat, and I happened to meet a young girl in her late twenties who was a scientist. She seemed a little reserved and an introvert and forever she seemed stuck to a book. It took me a while to befriend her. After a while, we got talking. Among other things that we discussed, she told me about some senior she really liked - and how he was not aware of her interest in him. And also that, her parents were now looking for a groom for her. When we departed at the Mumbai station, I sincerely and earnestly wished her luck to find the right kind of partner for life.

Each of these incidents have happened more than 10 years back – but is amazing how refreshingly clear the details of these memories still stayed on in my mind :)

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Coming for tea ?

There are people who connect with you on different wavelengths. Some connect to your mischievous side , some to your spiritual, some to your fun side, some to your serious side. Some give you the pleasure of being their guide and philosopher and they worship you. Some become your guide.

And then there are some people who have the knack of touching people's lives. For them it doesn't matter who you are - how close you are to them. What matters to them is that everyone should at all times smile. They take extra steps or go beyond the ordinary to reach out and make a difference. These are the kinds who end becoming a universal friend to everyone.

This was around ten years back – I had just started working and everything around was new to me. I had a lot of people at the office, with whom I connected to at various levels. Since I was new to the work environment, a lot of things that were happening around me just did not make sense.

One particular day had been really bad, as I struggled with a tough problem and a difficult boss. I had been in a lousy mood, when one of the guys, a rolly-polly fellow with a colgate smile, from the next cabin walks up to me and calls me for tea. I wasnt in any mood for tea. So I say with a nice smile -Thank you for calling! but sorry, will come later. He says ok, and goes off towards the pantry with a smile on his face, the characteristic spring in his steps and a whistle on his lips. I smile at his happy, carefree gait and get back to my work.

About an hour must have passed by with me still on the issue at hand. I see this guy at my desk again. As I look at him questioningly, he smiles and says - Veena, ready for tea ?

Uh !

A little surprised I say " I dont want tea" irritation showing over my face and my tone. Why did he not understand - this was not the time for tea !

He smiles and says ok ! No issues ! and whistles back to his seat .

After half an hour or so, I see the guy again at my desk. He says - Veena, Get up , lets go for tea !

Damn !

Completely mad at him and my work by now, I look up and almost shout at him - Cant you understand ! I DO NOT WANT TEA !

He looks at me for a while and goes away. I thought I had put the message across this time. Pleased at giving vent to some of my pent up frustration I get back to the problem at hand.

Deep into work, and with no headway still, I hear a kind voice at my back after half an hour or so - Veena, are you done ? Can we go now ?

This time, I could only laugh helplessly.

I lock my computer and take a break with some nice tea and a fruitful conversation. I could only thank this guy for who he was - for going out of the way to bring a smile back on my face, in spite of the fact that he did not know much about me at that time.

This fellow and I kept in touch for a long time even after both he and me quit our jobs – but then somewhere life takes over. I eventually lost touch with this wonderful, warm hearted, playful, fun guy !

Wherever he is, whatever he is doing, I am sure he is touching a lot more lives.

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Etched in time and memory !

( Click on the picture to get a clearer and bigger view )

There are a lot of pictures that you capture that stay in your minds for ever.

They say a picture can create a whole story. I love this picture for this one fact. This picture is a picture of my cousin in kitchen of a traditional Mangalore Home.

There are a lot of things I love this picture for -

I love the picture for the heart felt, unabashed smile of my cousin. Have you ever noticed how simple people in the village are? Go to a village, and you will feel the love that the villagers bestow on you - pure, unconditional love that is filled with awe for people coming in from the cities. For them I guess people from the city symbolize someone who has gone out there, struggled through the hardships of life and stabilized himself for the benefit of the people back home. Their joy of preparing the village delicacies and feeding you is unparalleled.

I love the picture for the candid display of a typical mangalorian village kitchen. Notice the logs of wood that is used to make the fire to cook food. Among the various tasks that a mangalorian village home has, one of the tasks is to collect wood from the forests near by to light the stove. Lighting the woods and keeping it alive is a skill in itself. Every male and female in a village home has typically mastered this task. Also if you see carefully you will see that my cousin is sitting on a bigger log of wood. Notice the big round utensil on which the food is made. Typically rice is cooked in this village. People in a village are typically subjected to hard physical work – mostly related to some task in the farm, or taking the cows in the cowshed out to graze. Huge quantity of rice is usually used to feed the tired and hungry villagers for both the meals of the day.

I love this picture for the way in which my cousin is holding the cat. Cats and Dogs are an integral part of any mangalorian home. Cats litter and so do dogs - which mean that any house will not only have cats and dogs - but also kittens and puppies as part of the family. The kittens and puppies form a delightful companion for any young kid in the family. Dogs stay outside the house and Cats run about freely inside. As kids, we would love to run after the kittens, lift them pinching the skin of its neck (that’s the way the mother cat holds them - is what my mom had told me then), keep it in our lap and cuddle and pat it. This cousin of mine, used to sleep with the cat she is holding.

One picture and so many memories - Ancestral homes are such beautiful places to be!

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Call from home !

One fine day around 6 30 a.m. on a pleasant Sunday in my hostel, as I was lazily sleeping, snuggling in to my blanket and feeling the warmth of the morning sunlight, I was woken up by my room mates with a lot of urgency - Veena, Get up ! There is a call from your home.. !! Get up !

Call from home ! Wow !

People who have stayed at hostel know what I am talking about . A call from home is always a pleasure and delight. You might be in midst of a deep sleep or having fun in a party - but a call from home is a call from home ! You put aside everything and run to the lone phone in the reception.

Getting up from a cozy slumber at such an unearthly hour, is always difficult - but the excitement of talking to your siblings and parents far surpasses the extreme difficulty of pulling yourself out of your blanket :) I go to the reception. To my surprise there was no phone waiting for me . Huh ? Did my room mates misunderstand ? Was it supposed to be for someone else ? Putting aside the disappointing thoughts, with a smile on my face and brightness back into my eyes, I think pleasantly - maybe they will call me back after sometime. Sometimes parents did that - instead of waiting for us for such a long time, they would ask us to be called and call back in 10 mins. So I happily waited :)

And waited and waited :( No phone .. !

After half an hour, completely disheartened and totally convinced that my parents had forgotten about the call, I go back to my boring room to get back to my boring duties !!

I open the door of my room, and look at my roommates - their eyes seemed to have a mischievous glint on it. Wondering what they were up to, but in no mood to find out after the morning fiasco, I ignore them, and go towards my corner of the room.

When, suddenly, to my surprise, I hear loud laughter at my back !

I turn back - and to my disbelief - my friends were having a tough time controlling their laugh !

It was then that I remembered :| It was April 1st that day !

:) Uff ! :) :) :)

Whats your favourite april fool joke ?

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Makarasankranti - The festival of Kites !

Recently my friend Neelu (from my Baroda days) and her husband Amit had been to our place and I was telling Raghav and Amit that we should go to Baroda during the Navratri. The colourfulness , people dressing up in their traditional best and the garba dance -how a city can become alive in the night and how one gets transported to a almost different and a fantasy world is something that needs to be witnessed to be believed.

And as I was talking to him about Navratri, he says - Yes. And I also want to go to Baroda during that kite flying festival .

That touched a chord ! How could I have ever forgotten about the kite flying festival of Uttrayana or Makarasanktranti in Gujarat !

Sankranthi means transmigration of Sun from one Rāshi (zodiac in Indian astrology) to the other. Hence there are 12 such Sankrantis in all. However, the Sankranthi festival usually refers to Makara Sankaranti, or the transition of the Sun from Dhanu rashi (Sagittarius) to Makara rashi (Capricorn). This festival is also called Uttrayana which means- "Uttara( meaning North ) Ayana( Going )" - the start of the "northward journey of the sun ".

There is another significance of this day - after this day the days start becoming longer and warmer and thus the chill of winter declines.

Every year 14th and 15th Jan is a holiday in Gujarat. The build up for the festival begins a good 2-3 months earlier to the actual festival. The Kite makers start making their kites and beautiful , colourful kites start hanging on the rims of the small shops.

Along with the kites , a critical part of the Kite flying is the string to which the kite is tied. These strings are themselves made of different colours and very importantly are mixed with "glass powder". This is so that, it can be used as an effective weapon in cutting other people's kite.

About a month before the actual festival, the kite flying begins. One can start seeing the highly enthusiastic kite flyers come out and enjoying themselves with the kite flying.

Though, nothing can prepare you for the josh, excitement, colourfulness, fun and gaeity of the 14th of Jan. Kite flying begins at sunrise for most of the gujratis. And Oh ! How beautiful the sky looks on that day. Check this out -



Along with the kite flying , comes a very intense competition among the kite flyers on how long does one's kite remain in the sky or who's kite is the strongest of all. Kite flyers challenge other kite flyers to get into a tussle with them . And the fight starts. Both the kite flyers manoeuvre and guide their kites to entangle the string of the other person's kite and eventually cut it. And after a small struggle, one kite starts flying off in the air aimlessly. There is jubiliation on the winning side, coz not only the kite flyers but the whole gang of people around them are having fun.

And do you think the game ends there. Hell no ! The next interesting part is to catch the orphaned kite that is now wandering aimlessly. Judging the direction of the wind , and predicting which way the kite will go and eventually fall, would be a bunch of young children - ever ready to pounce on the "fallen" kite ( pun intended ) :). And finally the caught kites would go back in to the kitty of their family or friends who would be using it for their next kite match.

Fun - colour and life is what you get to see on this festival.
If you ever get a chance to go to Baroda or Ahmedabad ( or any city of Gujarat for that matter ), dont ever miss to see the beauty of Uttarayan.

Happy Makarsankranti ! :)

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P.S. All the photoes used in this post are from the site - http://www.facebook.com/pages/Uttarayan-Festival-Kite-Flying-Day - I profoundly acknowledge and express my gratitude to those who have put up these pictures on this facebook group . These pictures brought out profound memories of the wonderful festival and these pictures were the only reason, that I could write this post.

Read about the complete article on MakaraSankranti on wikipedia over here.

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To dear Anu :)

( Photo courtesy - Mr. A. K. Kaul )

Must have been in my 4th std when we moved into the new house in Ahmedabad. The day we shifted, only the uncle and his eldest daughter ( Meenu ) in our neighbouring house family, came to visit us. Uncle said something to mummy about where his rest of the family was- something that I neither understood nor cared.

With in two days though, aunty came to the neighbouring house and with her was a beautiful bundle of joy ! Gosh ! was she beautiful ! Aunty had been in the hospital to deliver Anu .. !

Meenu was my age - we went to the same class - to a different school though. Between Meenu and Anu was the quiet, understanding, balanced Suchi. Meenu was a friend for sure. But it was with Anu that I shared a very special bond. I would wait to get back from school so that I could rush to the neighbouring house's kitchen ( there was a out door sink to the kitchen, where all the kids had to wash their feet , before entering the house - a rule set by aunty that none of us dared disobey ;) )

Anu and I spent hours playing with each other. God knows what bond we struck together. We had our own language and our own secret jokes. On the holidays, I would sleep for longer than 7 am . And for sure, I would be woken up by a tiny little body with tiny little hands shaking the whole of 8 years old of me and saying "Uuuuthna Veena" ( :) I was Veena for her - pls note -no didi and all ). And grudgingly and reluctantly and ofcourse happily to the sound of a friend's voice, I would quickly brush my teeth to start my exciting day.

We spent blissful 4 years with our dear neighbours- Me playing with the 3 girls and spending time with their parents and grandfather. After which , Dad got transferred and we moved on . After 3-4 years when I went back to meet the Kaul family, Anu had grown to be a 8 year old, and Suchi to a 11 year old. Now both the younger girls called me 'Didi'. My heart tugged when I heard that. When did I become a Didi !!

But then that was the reality then. And now Anu has grown to be beautiful, confident lady who holds her own in the advertising section of one of the leading newspapers in India.

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Anu, Suchi, Meenu - This post goes out to your family and our friendship :)

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Bread Uncle

Its never the people with riches, looks or position that we remember. Its the simple people who we meet in our day to day lives, who leave an everlasting impression. Its not about how knowledgeable, or accomplished they are, that our mind retains the moments we spend with them. Its about how they carried themselves about , how they behaved, how they spoke, and made us feel that makes us cherish their memories.

I must have been in my 8th std at that time. We used to be in Baroda. Baroda used to be a nice quite town those days. For my Bangalore friends, its much like Mysore in ambiance, climate and culture. We stayed in a nice big independent rented house in a peaceful quiet residential locality. Our house used to be behind the beautiful , princely, and cute 'summer palace' known as the Shiv Mahal palace. Within the radius of two kms from my home used to be the five star hotel - Welcome Hotel and the four star hotel - Express hotel. The neighbourhood and the place was beautiful! and just right for me and my brother's growth and education.

Those used to be busy days- what with my brother and me studying in secondary school and both my parents working. On those days when everyone in the house needed to get ready soon - and we needed to have a quick breakfast - we would generally have some variation of bread- Bread Omlette, Bread Toast or Bread Butter Jam. It would be my brother's or my job to go to the near by friendly shop and get the bread. One of the days like that, as my brother was going to get bread, we spotted a neatly and simply dressed, clothed in white, young man in his early thirties on a black colour hero bicycle, shouting - Bread ! Fresh bakery bread !

Bread at our doorstep ! wow ! My brother called him in and we were introduced to a packet of bread that had the softest feel that I had ever known. Can you imagine ! This bread uncle's job was to deliver bread from the bakery of the "FOUR STAR"-"EXPRESS HOTEL" !

Bread uncle had the nicest smile and was very kind and friendly. He would talk to us sometimes about our school. He would also tell us about his family. He would treat us as a favorite uncle treats his young friends and you bet ! we responded ! On the days we would want bread, we would actually wait for this uncle to make his daily rounds. We would then cherish and celebrate the moment when the uncle arrived. It was this uncle who introduced us to brown bread. Twenty years back when Express Hotel had started making Brown breads, this uncle urged us to try it. And boy ! Did we enjoy the brown bread ! :)

I distinctly remember one particular day. Mom was getting late to go out and she requested us to get bread. Secretly I was waiting for the bread uncle . But when he did not come, slightly disappointed and a little worried too, I took my cycle to go out - when- thankfully! I saw the bread uncle coming from around the corner of the street. Excitedly running to him, I bought the bread and I told him that had he come 5 mins late, I would have left to get the local shop bread. To which , he looked so disappointed and disheartened that- After 20 odd years - I still remember that look on his face.

We enjoyed the companionship of bread uncle and savoured the bread from the Express Hotel for as long as we stayed in Baroda. And then Dad got transferred again, and we left Baroda - but those memories of the Bread uncle are there deep in my mind and heart.

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Western classical music and a tribute to a musical teacher and disciple duo!

This is a part of the 'Forrest Gump theme ' . Beautiful isnt it . Hats off to Alan Silvestri!

Memories come flooding along when I think of how my association with western classical music began.

This was during the start of my career. Our office would end at 5.30 and we would take the 6 pm bus . Now I had a good 2-3 hours before I could retire - so I was thinking of joining some music classes .

This particular day, I had missed my bus and had decided to take an auto back home. Since it would cost me a few hundred , I decided to share the auto with some people who were going the same way.

Now there were two guys who joined me. I do not remember anything about the third guy. But I distinctly remember the second guy. This guy was thin, curly haired, dark, wore spectacles and was easily ignorable. The journey was a good 1.5 hrs long, so we got talking. And he told me he was going to the music class . Wow ! What a coincidence ! I told him I wanted to join too and thats how I got to know about Alex School of performing arts in Thane. ( Dont know if it is still there :) ) .

That was the beginning of my association with Rajesh - over a period of one year - I discovered more and more about the person who took me on the wonderful path of music. This guy was from a family of musicians and all he dreamt about was to become a musician. Just then, Rajesh, was working as a software engg. - a total misfit to where he wanted to be.

Rajesh was not one to be stopped though! He had found his way about s/w too . Rajesh had mapped each of the keys on the keyboards to the tunes of 'sa' 're' 'ga' 'ma'.. :) and he would entertain his friends , colleagues by playing various well known tunes . So much so, that whenever there was a client visit, he would be asked to play the 'Titanic tune' to them on the keyboard . :)

There is this story that Rajesh had told me once about how he had met Alex sir. He had been in a music store , checking out the pianos, so that he could buy one. So to check out , he was playing one of his favorite tunes on one of the pianos there. And he tells me , there was this elderly gentleman who was watching him for quite some time. He comes to Rajesh and asks him 'That was good. Where do learn music'. And Rajesh tells him ' Thats the sad part. I havent found a teacher yet ' .

And I have goose pimples when I write this . The old man tells him - ' I will teach you. Come to my class from tomorrow ' . For Rajesh, the search was over !

That was the beginning of a beautiful association between a great teacher and a great student .

I would look forward to go to the classes after my day at work - As I would approach the class, there would be the beautiful music of Mozart or Beethoven that would be floating in the air , enlivening the whole street around the music class - And I knew that either Rajesh or Sir is on the piano that moment. I would look forward to hear to the enriching discussions both of them would have on music, musicians, and life .

I would be touched and privileged to witness how Music bonded them in a relation deeper than that of a father and a son.


I was looking for one of the pieces that Rajesh would play - Couldnt find it , since my knowledge in western classical music is limited :(. But while I was at it I found another beautiful piece of music by Mozart.




Do you have a favorite western classical tune too ? What are your memories associated with these favorite tunes. Do share with us .

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Beautiful Songs and a fond memory

My dad is not a very good singer . However he whistles very well. His whistle does not sound the way the whistles usually sound. It goes something like "sesesese.... " As a child I would be fascinated at the way he would whistle. And would try to imitate him. Could never do it though :|

Also I could never get the songs that he was whistling.

As I grew up and became more aware about songs, I discovered two of the most beautiful songs that I could have ever heard. Check them out..

Ye Dil aur unki nigaahon ke saaye

Doni Sagali..

This one is in Kannada.




So with these beautiful songs- I wish you all a very happy , bright morning ! And a wish you have a cheerful week ahead !

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Mangaloruuuuu

This post is about our trip to Mangalore in the last week of December 2007 .
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After a lot of debate and last minute decisions, we finally decided to go to ooooruuuuu-- Mangalore.. Willy , suggested the Chikamagalur route , since the Sakleshpur route wasnt very motorable.. We started at 8 am in the morning started for our loooooong journey towards Mangalore... Enjoyed the beautiful ride till Chikmagalur , where we joined Wily, Trily and Anita ;) .. And then started our particularly bumpy ride.. but all the irritation of the bumpy ride vanished when we stopped at at all the scenic spots.. we took snaps with our analog SLR ( I particularly am inspired to take a few snaps - especially after I saw how beautiful the Kerala snaps had come thru the SLR - will try to scan and post the snaps ) ..

As we neared Mangalore, I called Krishna Uncle up , to inform him that we are coming- And we were in for a pleasant surprise.. Prutha and Giri were at home ! Wow ! Reached Home around 8 pm... after some initial talks.. me and Prutha got going.. sorry talking ;)... We made poooriiiees and Egg Burji for everyone .. watched snaps ... and laughed thru out the night...

Next day we all decided to go to our ancestral home...

Me and all my cousins are particularly in love with this house... When we were younger, the only motorable road reached about 3 kms away from the house... The bus would drop us at the 'Primary School' bustop( where my mom and all the aunts had studied till 8th )... And then with our heavy luggage we would trek down for about 1/2 an hour to an hour ( depending upon the speed of our trek ) , through the mountains and the paddy fields , where we would first sight the Anatimar house( our neighbours house ), have a small talk there .. the dogs of all the houses nearby would have started barking now , announcing the arrival of visitors... and then we would walk thru the small muddy pathway and along the water stream before our house would be visible...

Now what do I say about this house... Let me try and describe what this house looks like... This house is atop a small hill.. It has a small stream flowing all around it ... On one end of the house is a stone well... all around are trees that have flowers... you need to walk across three precariously placed bamboo sticks ( that would serve as a bridge across the stream ) to reach the house... On one end of the house is a cow shed... And on one end is a huge hill, that used to serve us as our natural toilets when we were younger.. ;)

Prutha and me ( and as I said earlier, all my cousins ) are in absolute love with this house.. We know each and every corner of this house.. From the veranda.. to the two bedrooms ( for the two grandpa brothers( Prutha's and Mine ) )... to the two kitchens ( showed signs of everything not being exactly ok with the two families :) ) ... to every corner of the attic ( our favorite retreat ).. to the hole in the attic that led to one of our bedrooms .. to the bathroom that is there outside the house.. ( and the smell of the burnt woods with in it )...

When we would come here as children, this house did not have electricity.. So around 7 pm, the lanterns would be lit.. and the mothers would have filled the huge pot in the bathroom and would have lit the fire to have hot water for the children's bath... and then everybody in the family would have bath ( everybody in the village would bathe inthe evening after a hard day's job ) .. eat good food ... and slept soundly..

Mornings would be spent in the cowshed... roaming in the near by hills ... or simply enjoying in the stream...
So many memories just came alive as we visited each and every part of this house... Prutha and Me just didnt tire telling our husbands about how much fun we had doing this and doing that.. !.. According to Raghav, the house lived up to its description, except for the Arcanut plantation that has replaced the paddy fields.

Now a days ( including today ) the car comes right up the cowshed... so there is not much hassle getting to the home.. Also now each and every house in the village has a TV, fan, and fridge to boast of..
But other than that, thankfully, the beauty of the house and the village is still alive .. !
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( Bhaiyoan and Behenoan ! Hope this post brings out all the beautiful memories we have had of this house )
( Shruti, Neel, think I have described this house enough to you - Hope you get a visual picture of what I have been telling you so far )

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Got some beautiful comments from my cousins that I did not want to lose or put up as comments . So here are the comments for all to enjoy -
( Added one more cousin's description -- check it out . Will put up the pictures too soon)
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Hi Veenakka,Your post brought back so many memories. It was like the movies, where you hear a narration and they show it coming alive.Memories of the only two times that I can remember when the house was full of people. When ajja passed away and mama got married.

Remember Prithvi having a bad accident with the old fan in the house during the latter visit. The talent showcasing of all the kids in the hall (forget what that was called).

The call to Nilayanna and the tender coconuts that promptly came down from the trees as soon as you reached. The entire chavadi (if I remember the veranda being called right) filled with aracknut, laid out for drying. The perfectly woven leaves of the coconut tree that formed a mat of sorts. There would always be a mother hen with her 6-10 chicks running around the house .... the failed attempts to run behind the chicks to hold them in our hands, for just a little while.

What I particularly remember about the hall is ajja's( grandpa ) resting chair with, what seemed like quarter mile long arm rests. The small stone grinder that dodda( grandma ) used to beat her beetle leaves and mix, after she had lost all her teeth, but not the desire to color her mouth red with the beetle leaves :).

The long table along the wall, where all the uncles and mamas would sit for dinner of piping hot ganji and kukka da uppad (home made mango pickle) ...and sometimes the deadly combo of that with ungel meen (dried fish)....oooh my mouth waters. I always felt that dried fish never tasted better than when made at the dikkel (patched mud fire place in the kitchen) in that house. I used to love sitting by the dikkel as much as I liked the smell of burnt wood in the bathroom.

Oh! not to mention the attempts to draw water from the well. Washing all the charcoal and mud dirtied clothes of the kids was every mother's nightmare in those days I guess.A lot of memories indeed. Doesn't feel like we ever spent enough time there.It was great idea to post this on your blog veenakka.love deepu
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Veena,

It is a beautiful post, I almost journeyed along in my mind, as you described the setting. Memories came flowing along :)

I’d like to mention the yellow bananas we used to get from the doddas, the kittens roaming around, the night puja, the glow-worms and the cricket sounds in the nights oh…so many delightful memories.

Love
Vinay

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Ooru Memories....
.....I've really enjoyed reading Deepti & Veenakka 's musings .....It's funny how I never appreciatedappreciate how beautiful our village/house is ...
To add a few more memories....
Bootha da pooje( Praying the Spirits - In Mangalore, the spirits are prayed every year for the well being and prosperity of the village and the house ) every year...The quite merciless slaughter of the chickens by the 'Bhattre'( the priest ) for the well being of the family....Followed by offering of the yummy chicken curry [ even though im now vegetarian!] to the stone boothas..Ajja always used to say.. look, there's an ant carrying a elephant in the sky!'..where upon we wud promptly turn to the skies to see this miracle...& the boothas( spirits ) wud grab the oppurtunity to eat[they cudnt eat if we watched!]
( Veena - Yaa.. All you guys would say you could see the ant carrying the elephant and I would never be able to see anything - and I would wonder whats happening :) .. what are you guys seeing that I am not able to see.. Still wonder Pruths, kya dikhta tha tum logon ko tab?? lol)
...also I remember our astonishment [ & amusement] at watching the neighbouring Ajja plough his fieldsclothed only in his langoti!...the 'anatimaar' dodda who never seemed to age ..we were always baale( a child ) to her...
...watching Neelayanna catch crabs with his bare hands...Oh, I could go on..........I should really post the pctrs we took this time with veenakka & Jiju...will do soon, promise...:-]....
Love ,Prutha

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I remember meeting Divya for the first time I think in ooru. She was (still is) the most lovable giggly loving kid. The four of us sisters would chat for hours near the cattle shed. I remember one summer that we spent with Vinay anna and Veena akka. Vinay anna spent most of his time reading inside. :-) I remember foraging for books in the atta and finding Jane Eyre, old Archie comics, really old classic Reader's Digest and devouring them. On those lone summers there, Ajja would go to Uppinangady( the main city ) and before he set off he’d ask Prutha and I what we want and we'd ask for paper, color pencils and crayons and he'd get that for us, plus ‘kalli bella’!
I remember sitting by dodda's 'kaddepel'( a utensil ) as she ground rice for the 'rotti' for the next morning's breakfast and talking to her about the big bang theory and she'd listen and ask the most intelligent questions. Then, the next morning I'd sometimes rather have breakfast at malla dodda's( elder granny's - Veenakka's granny ) kitchen if she was the one who made my fav 'addya'. When we were younger and malla ajja( elder ajja ) was alive, I'd get up at 5.30 a.m., and collect flowers for him for the pooja and sit with him.
As we'd play during the day, running around the house, he'd give away real loud farts. And I remember Prutha and I being the ones always being called out for making too much noise. :-) I think malla ajja was just used to us going there every summer. He tried teaching me some steps of yakshagana( Our grandfather was a very well known Yakshagana artist - The local news channel and newspaper telecast/published his death when he died ). Making a full 360 degree turn while in mid-air was what appealed to me the most about yakshagana. And when yella ajja( younger grandpa - my grandpa ) died, I remember clearly seeing Usha aunty emerge from the fields. She was crying as she was making the walk home( Veena - Prithvi, dont know why, but somehow, I can very well picturise this scene in my mind ).
Well, I have memories of almost every summer I spent there - sometimes just Prutha and I and sometimes with another set of cousins. With Nishit – Jarita, Ashwin-Akshata too. Yeah, ooru is definitely the most beautiful place I've seen. I miss the dodda's there for sure now. Though it isn’t the same, I am glad we can still visit the place.Love ya'll cousins,Prithvi

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