Astrologers

If the planets told me,
That I would be,
The biggest superstar,
They had ever seen,
I 'd soar like an eagle,
Sing out loud,
Jump for joy,
Cast dreams abound.

Then I would sit back,
Breathe and relax,
Because a star I know,
I would never be.
      
        I really couldn't say if astrology is real or fake, but its undoubtedly fun when astrologers read your horoscope. At every point of your life there is something lacking and the astute astrologer predicts that in abundance for you. Once in a while I suppose they hit the nail on the head and that one success story becomes their claim to fame.  I have been to an astrologer once. I believe he was considered famous. He studied our signs and told my mom that the children's horoscope was responsible for the death of my dad. I don't think he noticed the killer looks I gave him for that. Since then every time I pass his house I direct a nasty thought at him. I have not been to an astrologer since then, nor have I had the opportunity to do so.

            Barring this one thing, generally astrologers have always maintained wonderful things are going to happen in my life. Oh, I forgot about the snake bite which was supposed to happen in my nineteenth year,but for some reason never happened. I don't hold it against them since only one astrologer ever mentioned that.

          A couple of years ago while mom was searching for a son in law she consulted several astrologers. Close to fifteen astrologers predicted with certainty, "This girl is going to study". Not one or two, but fifteen! I rolled up my sleeves and spent that year attending coaching classes for MBA every weekend. Maybe that qualified as the final years of my education because I studied no further. (Funny how the last things I learnt in a classroom were calculating speeds of trains or length of shadows.) All during that year, I kept thinking, all fifteen couldn't be wrong. On the strength of their optimistic proclamations I bounced happily into the CAT exam hall and just as quickly deflated when my results came out. This kind of cemented my belief on astrologers - all fun but no substance.

      My mom went with her friend last week to see another famous astrologer. Inevitably with no job and far away from home, I am prime astrologer material. My immediate future has been mapped out thus - The skies are clear with chance of  a job, a kid and a whole lot of trouble post August.
 

Gift of the heart

At the bus stop she sits,
Huddled away from busy feet,
Wrinkled skin, tattered clothes,
A living corpse,
She is barely more than that.

She hears not the vehicles horn,
Nor notices the endless stomping feet,
Her head bowed, weighed down
In despair,
Her bleeding heart torn.

Near her, a pair of feet unmoving,
A tall, lanky man, his look appraising,
Holding a rucksack and an umbrella,
Almost a vagabond,
His face a mask,he stands wondering.

Suddenly he darts, his strides long
Carrying him swiftly onto the street.
She never sees him come or go.
Though I search,
He is soon lost in the throng.

Minutes later, he comes back,
In his hand a heavy bag.
He stops but for a second, whispers,
And walks away
Not once looking back.

Slowly her arm extends right,
Pulling the bag towards her.
Reaching in, cautiously, she pulls out,
Bananas - yellow and ripe.
Her shriveled fingers clutch it tight.

Neither does she acknowledge,
Nor does he expect gratitude.
In that moment, unheard by the crowd
Love sang
And those of us who witnessed,were changed forever.


(She may not be alive now,
You may not remember giving,
But I who saw everything,
Remember,
And rhyme this story.)

While I wait...

Scene - At the bus stop waiting for the bus to arrive. There is only a single chair and I settle in and pull out my phone and make a call. Too busy talking on the phone I vaguely realize that I am no longer alone at the stop, there was someone else shuffling towards the bus stop as well. He comes over and looks around.

Me : (Distracted from the phone) Do you want to sit on the chair? I am fine with standing.

Him : Oh no thanks. I thought there used to be 2 chairs here.

I go back to my phone conversation while he settles himself on the ground. A couple of minutes pass .

Him : I will tell you when the bus arrives.

I have moved my chair to the shade, which means I cannot see when a bus is approaching. Still on the phone I smile and acknowledge his offer of assistance.

Him : (A couple more minutes later) I will tell you when the bus arrives.

Something is wrong here. I look at him more carefully. Graying hairs, sagging skin he looks like someone who grew old too quickly. One must be kind to the elderly so -

Me: Are you sure you don't want to sit to this chair?

Him : I am fine here. You sit on that chair. I will tell you when the bus arrives.

A couple minutes later my phone conversation is done and I settle in the chair waiting for the bus to arrive.

Him: You are very kind. Its not often that you meet people who are this good.

Right about then it hits me. Or rather it kind of wafts up my nose; The smell of alcohol coming from his general direction. Under ordinary circumstances I stay far far away from drunks. But here I have trapped myself.  I pretend to not hear him.
But he does not seem to need an answer from my side. He is a man on a mission. He needs to unburden himself and therefore his only requirement is a living soul to hear him out. His monologue lasts a good five minutes without any prompting from my side. Having exhausted praises on my kindness he starts pouring his heart out to me.

Him: "Oh S***! You are so gorgeous. Long hair, beautiful face and your f***ing kind as well! Do you know how beautiful you are?"

I cringe on the inside while trying to look anywhere else but at his general direction. I am glad I am wearing my sun glasses so that I don't have to make eye contact. I feel like laughing at the absurdity of the situation but at the same time I must look disinterested in order to fend him off. How do you shake off advances from an old man?
He evidently thinks he has got the cat in the bag and he makes his move.

Him:"Are you married?".

It strikes me, this is my way out. If I say yes, he might stop. So I nod. He transforms instantly from a hopeful admirer to a tragedy struck lover.

Him : "Damn! That lucky guy. I should have met you sooner then I might have had a chance. Damn!  In case there is ever a chance remember Mathew (or Andrew) G from South San Francisco. I am always available. Do you want my number?"

I guess in his optimistic scheme of things, since divorce rates are high in US I am going to be available pretty soon and therefore he still has a chance.
Now there are people arriving at the bus stop. A lady glances at me, taking stock of the situation. I smile, she smiles. Womanhood acknowledging each other. Meanwhile...

Him : "Damn! All the good ones are always taken! Its my bad luck. But you are so beautiful. You can take my number if you want"

Me : (in my most gruffest tone) "Lets just wait for the bus"

Him : "I guess you want to be left alone huh? Ok. I will tell you when the bus comes."

The lady on the side moves. I look at her and she nods saying the bus has come. I quickly side step him and board the bus. Thankfully its not the one he wants.

Him :  "Have a good day"
I nod and climb on.

In under ten minutes I was elevated to a gorgeous diva with a heart of gold and offered a hand in marriage. If only he were not an old, penniless, drunkard I might have believed him.

(Every word of this is true. I am only sorry I don't remember more of what he said that day.)

Discord

Its time,
My temper has come and gone
No longer do I think I am right
Nor were you right or wrong.

A glance, a broken smile,
My first steps towards you
This fight was perhaps only
Worth a moment few.

Would you smile, ever so slightly?
We could be buddies as before.
But you glare, your temper still raging
Its time... we spar again.

Halloween

   Last year, late one night we were sitting at home doing particularly nothing worth remembering. The norm for late nights in Seattle is its dark and its quiet. Suddenly, there is a heavy knock on the door. We both fly out of the sofa where, till a moment ago we were comfortably relaxing. I quickly gather the clothes strewn on the sofa and other junk items and deposit it on the bedroom floor. Having cleared the living room, I walk back to Reni who is standing beside the door, peering through the peep hole.

   Before I proceed further, let me tell you that late night knocks on our door are something that we have had to deal with before. Our neighbors were in some kind of trouble with the police and we have had cops coming to check on them. Several times police cars would watch that apartment for a couple of minutes and then drive away. So I was very wary of the folks next door. At times we have also had friends of our neighbors knock on our doors late night by accident. By the time we open our door, they would have realized their mistake and gone into the right house without a word to us. Keeping all that in mind, I kept my voice down and mimed asking Reni who it was. He whispered he couldn't see a thing. Immediately I thought it must be someone who had accidentally knocked and had gone away. My second thought was someone was hiding by the door out of sight. I wanted to take a look too. From past experiences I knew that if I walked past the peep hole, it would obstruct the light and whoever was outside would know that someone was inside. So I bent down on all fours and crawled across.  Reni looks down and seeing me sitting down by the door, he whispers, " Someone has covered the key hole from the outside. I cant see anything because of that." My eyebrows shoot up in shock. Is the neighbor playing with us? Who could it be?

   My detective powers immediately kick in. I jump up and run silently towards the bed room. I part the blinds ever so slowly and look out to see if anyone is hiding. Though we cannot see the door from the window, I look hoping for some clue. Meanwhile I can hear Reni asking who is there but there is no response apart from more knocks. Moments later Reni joins me at the window and we both look out. I strain my ear hoping to pick up some noise. But to no avail, its eerily quiet outside except for the knocks. We both head back to the door. Though Reni continues to ask who is outside no one answers and the knocking continues. Finally after sometime Reni decides to be brave and starts to unlock the door. I step back from the door and move to the side. Reni too steps back from the door and extends his hand towards the door knob and starts to turn the knob.

   Inch by inch he opens the door, hiding behind the door partially and at the same time trying to see who is out there. I can hear noises outside but I am unable to see. I can only see Reni and his face shows surprise and then... he starts to smile. Startled, I walk towards the door and look out to see a hooded figure in black with the Scream mask and a huge knife in his hand.

Nikky emerges from behind the mask smiling.  Along with him is Sanoj grinning.
Happy halloween they say.

Fright walk..

  There are those, who go to horror movies/shows because they are not afraid of such things, and those, who are afraid, but even then like getting spooked. I belong to neither of those categories. I stay far far away from spooky stuff.  I am ashamed to admit, but I get startled by the most silliest of things like, if someone walks unexpectedly into a room. Since I am so adept at scaring myself on a daily basis, I don't fall prey to suggestions of horror movies/shows. But last week, under the joined force attack of a warm sunny day and a crowd of noisy people I found myself suggesting to Reni - "Lets try the Fright Walk".

  As a fright walk survivor, I can tell you that a Fright Walk is a dark maze with spooky noises, props and actors waiting to scare you at every turn. Its meant for kids basically. But when this story begins, I am not even imagining what I am getting myself into. My suggestion was immediately approved by the horror loving husband. However, once we went inside the building and the sun and noises faded, my fears surfaced. Unimaginable horrors were running through my head as we stood wondering how it would be. My heart was pounding incessantly, my ears felt hot and I felt faint. Both my hands were firmly clutched on to Reni, who I imagine, was busy checking out the beach scene outside. I longed to smile - which is what I do when I am petrified, but there were folks behind me and I didn't want them to think I was scared. I blinked a couple of times, took a deep breath and tried to focus on what the skeleton heads above me were advising that I do, once we stepped in. Half way through their talk, I gave up listening since I couldn't catch most of what they were saying. Instead, I adjusted my grip on Reni's arm and fought the lightheadness that seemed to come out of no where. Feeling the tight grip on his arm getting tighter, Reni looked at me and I did what I do best - I smiled. He smiled back reassuringly, patted my hand and seconds later we were going through the door.


    Inside, it was pitch black with a strategic lights placed here and there to guide us on. Black walls, black curtains, black ceiling and floor. I kept away from the walls as much as I could and hurried along. Noises floated above whispering things, blood covered bodies jumped out from behind doors and the path kept on twisting and turning endlessly. With Reni hurrying along and me behind pushing him to walk even faster, most of the motion sensor props got activated way after we crossed them. I saw Reni getting startled by his own reflection at one point but so far I really hadn't been scared. After having covered three quarters of the maze we finally began seeing the Exit signs posted. I was elated that the worst was over. It suddenly seemed to be a bit brighter and my heart rate was definitely sliding back to normal. Out of the blue, the last turn came up and as I rounded it expecting the exit door, someone crept alongside me and I jumped out of my own skin. The last mirror was unexpected and the fright walk lay claim to another victim frightened by their own reflection! We reached the exit almost immediately and the world was bright again.

  Once we stepped out, we passed the queue of those waiting to get in. I could see anxious faces looking at me, like I had been looking at others before. I walked away a zen like calmness on my face, as nonchalantly as if it were just a walk in park.

  Following the success of the Fright walk, I have even attempted a horror movie as well. It went better than expected. I screamed only once and jumped in fright only a couple of times. It does not mean that I have changed but my outlook has improved a tiny bit. But I still continue get startled when someone suddenly enters the room.

Etiquette

I was recently on a linking spree on the internet. Randomly reading stuff, following links from page to page. And I happened to reach a blog of a friend of mine. I was surprised that she wrote a blog, something that I never knew of. But what really made my eyes widen in surprise was that she had listed this blog on the blogs she follows. I even clicked on the blog name to make certain that it was really linking to my own blog. I never knew she had read mine let alone had become my follower! I have a sinking feeling that among several bloggers there is a code unwritten that if I follow your blog then you had better follow mine too. But till date I haven't followed anyone yet, nor do I ever think I will be able to.

     So my friend(s) if I have broken the blog commandment by not following your blog, slay me in your thoughts  but let me remain your friend. Put it down to the streak on insanity that I have.

Bald

Its been a dream of mine since ages - Going bald. Next to Sardarji's I am happiest when I see a shiny, bald head on the street. What freedom! We had a teacher back in school who went bald every year. Of course she sacrificed her hair at a temple in India probably for some favor got or to be received from above, but ever since then its captivated me. Enlightenment and a shaven head seem to go hand in hand. 

  Why go bald? The most predominant reason is that I am too lazy to care for my hair. The theory of hair states that the lesser the hair, the more the obsession. I often wish if only I was born with the kind of hair shown in ads , ramrod straight, sleek and once tucked behind the ear it stays there. But I have the kind of hair that twists and turns and finally comes back to poke you in the ear or eye. And I have lots of it. And this poking happens at any time of the day and almost always at night. Some nights just as I am about to sleep I see Reni in his sleep scratching away at his face,nose or ear every couple of minutes. I realize it isn't villains or heroines in his dreams who he is chasing, its that one strand of hair from my head which is insistently poking him even as he tries to chase it away. As soon as I move my hair the lines on his forehead disappear and he goes back to his dreams happily.

   Another reason is without my crowning glory there is no need to ever look at a mirror anymore.  I am unfortunately very un -woman like when it comes to mirrors. I don't see the need to look in the mirror for more than a second. I rarely see anything more than my hair and once I do notice my hair, nine times out of ten I am shocked that I was going around looking like this. Then there is a mad rush to find a comb and the mirror is then forgotten. I also tend to look at myself objectively in mirrors. Its either the hair or the eyes or the teeth or whatever portion that needs my immediate attention. Once I fix it, the mirror is no longer required. I have seen girls with mirrors in the purses who frequently look into it and correct any abnormality however miniscule. I remember once being wonderstuck when I had a moment of clarity and saw myself as a whole face in the mirror. And at that moment it came to me, Oh! this is what others see when they look at me. I am still waiting for that moment to come around again. I wonder is everyone like this or whether its just me.

 So what holds me back from going bald? The answer is simple enough - society. Several summers ago when it got too hot I traded in a braid for a pony tail. The next morning when I went to college feeling wonderfully light several of my classmates got angry at me for cutting it short. I was stunned that they felt so strongly about it. And since I am such a peace loving person I didn't do anything to my hair for a whole year until next summer. It got too hot and sticky again the following year and I couldn't bear to have my hair long. So off I went to have it cut. Scandalized eyes met me the next day in college. If I go bald I doubt if others will be able to bear with it. I am a rebel but one with a conscience. As a species we set much store by hair. And those who don't have it comfort themselves by looking at others. I know coz I am not happy with my mere 5 foot 3 but happy that my sister is 5 foot 4. Ultimately my hair is not really my hair. It just happens to be growing out of my hair follicles but in reality it represents a lot to so many other people that I dare not do too much about it. 

  I doubt if anyone would agree with most of what I have written. Most would shake their heads and say, she doesn't know how lucky she is. My mother in law who hasn't seen me in a year, asks at times how long my hair is and advises me not to cut it anymore. She would be mortified if she ever read this. The world says if you have it flaunt it. What they don't say is to flaunt it you need to buy several gallons of products, cover yourself with them and ultimately end up looking 'natural'. The hair care industry is reaping millions with those who care for the each strand of their head. Minus these products whenever I flaunted it, I ended up looking like a ragamuffin.

I don't know how many will sympathize with me, but we who have it have problems too. Obviously since I have so much of hair its influenced my thoughts on the same. Nevertheless I do feel a pang whenever I comb my hair and several strands fall off. I blame the water, I despair and I check my hair line to see if I am going bald. Baldness brought on naturally is a horror, but a shaven head is a different story.

Now please excuse me while I go scratch my ear.

83

I read from somewhere that at any given point of time we all have 83 issues in our lives. If one issue get solved another one comes up in place so its always up there at 83. Did someone really sit down and list out their issues and find out that they had 83 problems? And once they did that did they then go ahead and research everyone else and get them to list out their issues and figure out that they too had 83?
  If this is the magic number, I am sure I too must have 83 problems in my life right now. Counting down from one to five would send me to the depths of despair. I am sure I would not make it past five without abandoning the entire attempt. Its bad enough that at times when I am watching TV or reading some random thought sets me thinking about my joblessness or the pressure of being married and not having kids. I have a tough time pushing away these thoughts and focussing on the happy things in life. But on days like today, no matter whatever I do, however loud I play the music or how many ever TV shows I watch the mind just gets stubbornly stuck on how much my life is frustrating.

PS this was written yesterday, in the depths of despair. Today I ve bounced back and I am in no mood to add, edit or re write this. If only yesterday I had thought that today will be so free of worries, I wouldnt have minded yesterday so much. :)

Adventures of a sandy kind.

Right about the time when your milk teeth have just popped out, you are bound to do something which is either too cute for words or downright funny. My cute moments have been photographed and the funny incidents are too often repeated and laughed over again and again. The most often repeated story about me is how I would cross a room to get to the other side. 

My sister in her boundless enthusiasm would run across hardly caring whether she fell whereas I would hug the walls and circumnavigate the room rather than cross it without support. I guess I was born with the risk taking gene malfunctioning. Consequently, I have rarely fallen, nor have I have ever got any broken bones or sprains. All I have is a faint discolouration on the knee which I think was a result of me tripping accidently and hitting the same spot twice.

With just minor bumps and bruises and the occasional milk tooth falling out, childhood passed without any major aches or pains. Fast forward to a couple of weeks back. I had finally attempted my first major roller coaster at the age of 27 and fared better than I expected. 

But now a new challenge lay before me. Sand dunes in all their bumpy splendour.

We had gone on a weekend trip to Oregon and we had planned a day at the dunes. We were supposed to ride these All terrain vehicles (ATV) which is a cross between a motor bike and a car on the sand dunes. I had misgivings about this adventure trip right from the beginning.  Initially we had decided on taking one which could seat two, but the price for renting a two seater was way too high. So there was no way out. I had to go solo.

I fitted myself a dusty helmet, a dirty pair of gloves, and a huge pair of goggles. The ATV's were lined up outside in two rows waiting for us.My heart started hammering, and my fingers were icy cold. 

I hung around at the back delaying sitting on the vehicle. Pretty soon there was only one vehicle left for me to climb on. The guys had kindly left me an RTV right next to Reni who was sitting in front of the line. So I climbed on and instantly clutched the handle bars for dear life.

I let go for a few seconds for the ceremonial thumbs up at the beginning before clutching the bars again.

Right about then my instructor yells, pointing at me "Your going to go first!". By some insane twist of fate my line would move out first with me leading. I was prepared to be the last or maybe even a non starter. Mind blank, I turned the ignition and accelerated.  I felt like Nemo (the fish) peering through a glass bowl with bulging eyes. Luckily I was off without any major glitches. I relaxed a minuscule amount.

The vehicle was very inconvenient to handle as it kept going off in every wrong direction. But I was slowly getting the hang of it. The ATV was open, a first for me since I have never driven a motorbike. The dirt roads

were bumpy and the vehicle noisy. But I thought I did better than some of the other guys. Soon enough we were on the dunes with vehicles zooming in every direction. Our group soon scattered and I rode around a bit on flat ground getting a hang of the vehicle while the others zoomed on hills and valleys. Reni would come up to me time to time to check if I was alright. I would nod and he would nod, our conversation

limited by the helmets and the noise from the engine of the ATV and then he would head off again. The second time he came up to me and said something which I couldn't catch and he turned and sped up over a dune. Our pact had been that we would stick together. I thought he had said follow me and therefore I followed.

Thumb on accelerator, eyes focused on Reni I started on my first high speed uphill. Next thing I know I am hitting the ground. I have no recollection of how exactly my feet or my arms left the vehicle, 

but I do believe several of Newtons laws of motion combined forces against me and pushed me over. I looked at the vehicle in a daze as it kind of circled all by itself back to my starting position at the bottom of the dune. Then I looked over my shoulder over the hill, where I had last seen my husband. Only the sand dune stared back mocking me.My first major fall. My left arm was hurting badly and there was sand in my mouth which I couldn't spit out since I was wearing the helmet. As I struggled to get up my first clear thought was that I shouldn't waste fuel. So I got up and switched off my ATV. Since I was still alone , I decided I might as well I would sit on the ATV and wait for someone to show up.

Unknown to me , Reni was coaching someone else under the impression that it was me. But he soon figured out he was talking to the wrong person and started looking for me. He saw me sitting all alone on my ATV apparently unmoving. And as he approached me that's when the tears started sliding down my cheeks.

If I thought on the sand dunes was the end of my adventure I was proved wrong. Getting out of the sand dunes was also a great adventure given the fact that I couldn't drive. It was a sheep, wolf, hay and a river crossing situation. I couldn't drive and I couldn't be left alone. Reni had to drive his own vehicle and we both couldn't drive on one. Fortunately I managed to get back on level ground with some help from others. There ended my adventure on the sand dunes.

************************************************************

 I got my first X ray taken. I don't remember if I have ever been X ray ed before. A swollen tissue is all what I have, though the ache is still there even now two weeks later. I am never again riding any vehicle that does not have doors or seat belts. If I had the power I would go back and level those sand dunes! I prefer a room with a wall for support any day!

Bitten!

I ve been bitten and contaminated by the virus! The craft virus! And I have all the classic symptoms -
My fingers are all covered in glue, there's paint eveywhere and paper scraps that stubbornly cling to the carpet!

I am lost in dreams most of the time, wondering how my creations will turn out. And at the rate that I am going, its going to be a long long while before I de-glue my fingers and come back to this space...
And with snaps of my creations as well... Who ever knew childrens crafts would be so easy! :)

Meanwhile, Rahet Fateh Ali Khan is coming to Seattle. Unfortunately the seats that are available right now are probably equipped with binoculars to be able to view the stage. Took me a couple of days to convince the right kind of people. :( Well with pretended glee and a couple of back flips I will now drag myself to the Malayalam concert which is the week after that. I wouldnt mind the binocular seat for that show! The darker the corner the better!

[Its an unwritten rule in married folks world that where ever you go we go together. I am hoping for a waiver in a couple of months!]

photographs!

A superstition I read - its unlucky to leave photo frames empty. We now have two frames lying around unused. I suppose for the next decade or so I need not enter myself in any raffle draw with hopes of winning the grand prize. Madam luck has all but packed her bags and proclaimed her departure. She is just hanging on by the last centimeter of my severed sixth finger. But in spite of this I know that the picture frames will remain empty far into the unseen future.

Its not for lack of photographs that the frames are gathering dust. The simple problem is that I hate looking at myself in photos. Till the age of five or six I suppose I liked myself, all my baby pictures are cute and more importantly I seem to have enjoyed smiling in those days. After six years of existence my photos stopped smiling. I suppose a couple of strategical missing tooth might have been the reason for the general funeral demeanor. My tooth did grow back, but not my smile as by then it was not prudent to smile anymore. My teeth outdid themselves in comparison with my lack of growth length or height wise. But of my teeth saga we will digress later.

So I progressed unsmiling wading my way through portraits and landscapes at times solo, at times lost in a large group. Beaches, parks I posed everywhere smiling rarely. Each time I could not bear to look at the snap for more than a second before I pushed the picture away. I would regularly hide away my passport snaps and get new ones in the hope that the next dozen reproductions of my features will turn out to be better than the countless previous ones. But how ever much I comb my hair, powder my face, smile or not smile I would run out the photo shop covering my head in shame. And it continues like so to this day.

 Someone who hates looking at her pictures by natural conclusion should not like look at herself in the mirror as well. But as far back as I can remember whenever I look in the mirror I see only a part of my face. And I am more than happy with small dissected  portions of my face. The whole perimeter of my face never registers. More often than not I tuck a wayward strand of hair behind my ear, flatten my misshapen eyebrows if they are unruly and I walk away happy with myself.

 All of photography nightmares exploded on my wedding day. In search of creativity(not mine) my very expensive photographer had me hugging a coconut tree and gazing dreamily into a distance. No visions of a happily married future life lit up my eyes as he envisioned. I can still recollect the amused smile of a scooter walah passing by. I suffered miserably that day and later when he happily delivered a full page close up version of me hugging the tree as part of my wedding album. If there was an foot of earth that I could call mine, I would have buried my album then and there. But there isn't and I do the next best thing, ignore it. My friends ask for my wedding pictures and I assure them I will send them the link by mail as the album is at home, but it never gets sent.

 The icing on the cake was that one day in Trivandrum when I went to get my passport photo taken. I was ushered in and asked to freshen up if needed. I took great pains and straightened my eyebrows so that they resembled each other and sat facing the camera. The guy fiddled with his cam for a while, made me tilt my head an infinitesimally small millimeter and clicked. Nothing happened. No flash, no click no nothing. Before I could position my head back to my comfortable tilt he said lets try once more and clicked again. No response from the camera forthcoming, he removed the cam and started trying to figure out what was wrong. A couple of adjustments and he was ready again but the camera wouldn't budge. Each time he failed I lost a little more of  the good humor that I stock up when I go have my picture taken. I sat there as a guinea pig for his seven failed attempts when finally at the eighth attempt his camera flashed and one week later I found myself looking into a packet of a dozen very angry looking Lakshmi's with one eyebrow raised. I stuck those pictures on all my forms anyways.

 And so amongst empty walls and dusty picture frames I live happily ever after.

Hope,Want,Wish or Pray

In the middle of the ocean
I long for the desert
Lost in constant waves of motion
To escape unhurt

Stranded in the endless rain
I pray for the sun
There is plenty I have to gain
Plenty left undone

Crowd of voices and smiling faces
I yearn to get away
And when of love there are no traces
Tears run down in dismay

Give me today all my wishes but few
Tomorrow I need to wish anew.

Of bananas and me

There is something about the banana/pazham that is so appealing. Maybe its the colour, or the smell or the fact that if you put out your foot out in all likelihood you would stumble on the million zillion ways we Malayalees use the vazha. When it literally rains bananas you cannot help loving them. I adore the poovans and the all other varities of small bananas. I dont care much for the big nendra pazham but drool over pazha baji and pazham and pappadam. The cousin of the banana called "chiquita" here was my only link to the bananas back home. They were not great, but they werent bad either. But one day Chiquita and I had a quarrel and this is how it started.

I was standing on a ferry, looking out into the ocean and warming my hands already numb with cold when I happened to hear a seemingly innocent conversation. A couple of guys and girls were talking 

Guy1 - I am hungry...

Guy2 - yeah, I could eat anything... I think maybe I have a banana in my bag.

Girl 1 - A banana?? yuck!

Guy1 - Why? dont you like bananas?

Girl 2 - No I dont, I cant stand their smell. Horrible...!

At this point I look around to see that the girl has covered her nose up with her stole and is vigorously shaking her head in disgust over the smell of the imagined banana.

The conversation continues branching off into banana world -

Guy1 - So what about banana bread? 

Guy2 - There must be tons of stuff with bananas in them. Do you mean to say that you dont like any of them?? 

Girl - I am fine with banana bread and all the other stuff with bananas in them. Its just that I don't like to eat a banana on its own. It makes me wanna puke.

Guy1 - So what if your boyfriend had a banana and then he kissed you? 

Girl - I probably wouldn't kiss him!

They exhausted their topic and they moved off. Outwardly nothing had changed but I was never the same again. From that moment on I was not able to eat a banana. Every week Reni regularly tried to convince me to share half of a ripened banana with him. Yet how much ever he tried to coax me I couldn't bring myself to eat one. Everytime I thought of a banana, the image of that girl with her nose all covered up would come into my mind and however hungry I was, my hands never reached out for the banana.

What bothered me the most about this was that I was so easily influenced. Someone just had to vividly describe why she didn't like banana and I was conquered! At first I thought maybe time would help me forget, but some memories cling to you like glue. I was angry at myself for being such a walk over but the damage could not be undone. Lately I have begun to think that all through time, there have been several instances of people being easily influenced by personalities like Hitler and Osama and they have resulted in world wars! I merely stopped eating bananas, no major world history changing event. 

A couple of weeks back during his routinely cry for help to finish off an over ripe banana, I relented to Reni's coaxing and ate half. I neither liked the smell nor the taste and I gulped it down quickly and painfully.

 

But hold on, there is a happy ending to this story. Unknown to me, there was a plantain in the fridge which was once green but had since then become a brownish yellow. Unwilling to throw it away, I peeled it and immediately stood arrested by the familiar nendhra pazham smell. Old taste buds watered in delight and forgetting everything else I made finger licking pazha bajji that day which tasted remotely like the ones back home.

So now I spend my time between prowling for the exact brownish blackish plantain and waiting for that day when a banana crusader whispers in my ear on how delightful bananas are so that I can start eating them again.

whatever

This new year promises
To be what the previous years have been
A hope, a wish
And a silent prayer
That the next year will go easier on me.

I have lost the height on my jumps,
And the width of my smile
The path behind seems long
And the road ahead longer still.

I am walking a tightrope
Of life never ending,
Wobbling and unsteady
Pulled and pushed on all sides
By those whom I call mine.