Growing (up) pains

Growing up and being a grown-up are two different things altogether. One means you're older, maybe a tad wiser. The other means that you're in a position where you must do a few things to merit that title. Like teaching your kids, setting an example (a good one, obviously), passing on tradition and customs and so on.

Today, we celebrated Tamil New Years day like we always do. We ate. Period. But like I always do on festival days, I dressed up my children in Indian clothes. My tomboy daughter didn't want to wear a 'paavadai' but I insisted and said "I'm going to wear a salwar". And she said, "That's not fair, amma. You anyway wear salwars. If you want me to wear a paavadai, then you wear a sari"!

Touche!

And so we celebrated, wearing paavadai, kurta-pyjama, dhoti and sari!

My first lesson in this new year is the realization and acceptance that I have a lot of growing up to do to in order to call myself a grown-up.

And all thanks to my 'little grown-up'.

Junkie and loving it!

I've always been a sports junkie...for most of my adult life. Following different sports, different leagues, different players and so on. If you think that's easy, think again. So much tension, so much heartbreak, so many anxious moments and sooooooo much drama! There is constant action throughout the year with hardly any time to recover from victory or loss. Aussie Open, Superbowl, IPL, NBA playoffs, French Open, Wimbledon, US Open, year-end tennis masters and the numerous cricket tours that happen these days.

Don't think for a second that following all of this and dealing with the heartbreak, especially, is easy. Sleepless nights follow many a victory and defeat alike. Hard to explain why I feel the way I feel. But I'm glad that my spirit hasn't changed and I'm still addicted...passionately, even.

For the moment, it's all laughter, smiles and trash talking. I've bled blue and have now moved on to yellow! Yellow IS the new blue...bring it on everyone!

Blue

2 teams, both blue.

2 teams, both tough.

2 teams, both champions.

What a great, clean, awesome match!

Bleeeeeeeeeed Blueeeeeeeeeee!

Loyalty and love...for sport

In today’s ever-changing ‘flat’ world, people from different parts of the globe live in other parts of it. They call it ‘home’ either for the moment or forever. But are they truly displaced in their feelings as well? Where is their heart? Who will they side with if their present and past ‘homes’ are on a collision course?

‘The Cup’ will make the sub-continent its home by the end of the week. An outsider to this event will think that this is achievement in itself. Alas, the truth is far from it. The magnitude of this, is known only to the billion plus whose hearts beat to the sound of every ball played.

A billion hearts will be praying, singing, screaming and urging you on today.

Bleed Blue India, Bleed Blue.

Radio Ga Ga!

Radio in India has come a long, long way since the time I was a kid. From old Hindi songs and classical music, it moved on to 'English' songs for one hour every evening. And they even played requests and took dedications! I haven't tuned in to the radio in a really long time (ever since I moved back to India, I think) so I was pleasantly surprised to find that Bangalore has its own 24 hour 'hit' music station Radio Indigo. They have a couple of 'foreign' DJs and the music they play is a combination of rock, pop, hip hop and everything else that is considered 'hit'...at least for the moment.

But the advertisements they feature are as bad as any other station...here are a couple that I hear everyday...

"A recent survey showed that 40% of people that are heart patients are in the age of 25 - 35. Did that wake you up?" - When I first heard that, I thought it was an ad for a health club of some sort promoting the value of staying fit. Um, no...it's for health insurance! It's ok if you're not fit and have a bad lifestyle, make sure you don't get screwed on hospital bills!

A lady with a very strong American accent talks about the benefits of studying at one particular design school in the city...and ends it all by saying she's from SCOTLAND! Come on, get your 'accent' together!

Lastly, an ad featuring Bangalore's hippest French/Italian restaurant Medici! French/Italian...like Indian/Chinese? That's adaptation if you ask me.

Perspective

A traffic jam at the end of my street on a weekday morning. Irritation, annoyance and everything else showed on my face. And then, I saw two people run by my car...huffing and puffing with their bags in tow. The traffic jam had brought everything to a standstill, including the bus that they wanted to get on to. And so they ran and climbed into the bus...a big smile on their face.

They weren't the only ones smiling at the end of it.

Right Choice Baby, aha!

50 paise for the small one and 1 rupee for the big one. That's how much I used to pay for Pepsi Cola. And this was many years, maybe even a decade, before Lehar re-introduced it in India. So where did I get it from and that too for such a piddly sum? My school canteen!

It did not come in a glass bottle but in a plastic tube. It was not brownish-black but multi-coloured. It didn't need an opener, just one's teeth. 'It' was not a drink but a Godsend-divine- crushed-ice thingy that made everyone long for recess! And the dirt and grime in the ice box that it was stored in added to the flavour, of course! What a hit it was especially during sports time and awfully hot summer days, which were aplenty in Madras! But by the time I was done with school, it was gone. Replaced by cooler drinks and fancy ice creams that became a part of every child's life, therefore every school's canteen.

And now, it's back...'Chillicks' is its new avtaar. It's packaged differently, stored in a cleaner way and costs a whopping 10 rupees. But I can't get myself to try it. It feels weird.

Pepsi Cola in a clean tube for 10 bucks? Nah. I'll just hang onto my memories of the old one...the original.

Stocking up

She was a collector, there was no doubt about that. Not art or expensive things or even stamps. Just sentiments. No, not mentally but in the form of cards, letters, little notes...you get the gist. Over the years, her 'collection' grew, moved with her across continents and cities and finally found its resting place in a huge red plastic tub. A tub so big that it couldn't hide anywhere. Sometimes, things need to be jarring, loud...almost an eye-sore to be taken note of. Either by oneself or else, a significant other.

After much debating, she decided that it was time. To sort through, clean up and maybe just let go. And so she began reading through years of laughter, joy, sadness, fun....memories. One last time before she said goodbye. But she just couldn't get herself to say bye to all of them! Important dates, important moments and important people, especially those that were no longer with her...how could she? So the pile became smaller...much smaller. But it was still there, tucked away in a little bag.

The rest? Tucked away in her heart.

The Fight

It happened on the terrace this time, not the balcony like many times before. Loud and noisy...early in the morning. Another endless arguement. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth...until it became physical.

Pushing, shoving, even head-butting. It seemed like it would never end. And there I was, the silent and lone observer, peeking from my balcony, cup of coffee in hand. Suddenly, there was a lot of movement, a sort of dance. Every step that one took, the other followed. Were they going to make up or was the fight intensifying?

And then, one took a step onto the ledge. The other stayed still for a second and then followed suit. One last look he gave her...and then took the plunge.

Oh to be a bird and just fly away when it all becomes too much to take!

Deepavali 2010 - the beginning

I've celebrated Deepavali in India, specifically in Madras, for most of my life. Waking up at the crack of dawn, oil bath, new clothes, sweets and the all the rest of it are still fresh in my mind. Funnily though, the one thing that I've never done is to go shopping for the crackers. Maybe because I've never been very keen on the different bombs or other noisy things. The task of buying even sparklers and flower pots was always outsourced to dad, uncle, brother, driver etc..

What a shock I got when I saw at a 'Discount Firecrackers Store' here in Bangalore that the cost of 1 box of 10 flower pots was Rupees 700! I realized that I may walk out with just that and a box of sparklers. Thinking that I need to return with more cash, I was on my way out but was stopped by the owner.

Yenna madam, what do you want?
Illai, I don't have enough money, I'll come back. (He prob thought that this was a precursor to a long drawn out haggling session)!
No, we give a 70% discount on the printed prices and I'll give you more discount if you buy a lot.

Ok, so now this kind of made sense...or did it?! That meant that for the printed price on 1 box, I would actually get 5! And this applied across the board, on whatever kind of firecracker one wanted to buy. 5 boxes of flower pots and chakras each, 10 boxes of sparklers and 5 boxes of 'shaatai' later, I was at the billing counter feeling mighty thrilled about my first ever 'pattaas' purchase! My joy was short-lived because the bill presented to me was for Rupees 1850. I was figuring out what I should return to the shelf when he said, 'it's ok madam, you please take this for 1500'.

Was his generosity because this is the season for giving and sharing, because I was probably the first 'boni' for the day or because he still made a killing on the sale because I suck at bargaining????

You decide!

Happy Deepavali!