I checked my flight ticket.
23rd July, 0150.
"Yes, ma, it is tomorrow early morning. As in, today late night," I said.
My mom sighed.

I knew why: an early morning (late night, actually) flight. She was slightly discomforted by the thought of leaving me alone in the airport for about an hour before I could board the flight back.
"Oh, what if you fall asleep," she said, worried, every bit of anxiety apparent in her voice.
Well, I knew it was a very high possibility, but of course, admitting that would leave my mom sleepless.
"Of course, not...they'll keep announcing, and if it's a night flight, there will actually be people looking around and asking people if they have to take this particular flight," I said. I had no idea if there were any people like this in the Chennai airport.

The day went by so fast that I felt startled when I found myself in the airport, boarding pass in hand, talking to my parents as they stood on the other side of the grill. Dad's advices of spending wisely (not too much, but do what you want, keep an eye on the expenses, etc.) and mom's advices about eating properly everyday (whatever happens, never compromise on food) made me feel like jumping over that metal barrier and going back with them to stay there for just another day.
When the call for security check came, I told them goodbye. Mom held my hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze. "Take care, dear," she said.
Too scared that she might soon burst into tears, I quickly left the place.

As I went through the security screening, the guys in the counter who had checked my knapsack gave me odd looks as I collected it.
"Yeah, I have a bomb inside," I angrily muttered.
Mutt-heads.

I got into the flight. This would my first flight in any non-Indian carrier. The air hostesses, for a change, were young and pleasant, and not like some I had met before, who would make me think a lot before asking them for anything.

Soon came dinner time (or whatever meal that was). I was actually starving. I eagerly opened the salad that only had leaves, so neatly wrapped, in the food tray. And then opened the big box. A damp squib.
Non vegetarian food.
"Excuse me," I called to the hostess. "Can I have some vegetarian food, please?"
"Please wait, ma'am," she said and disappeared inside the veiled cabin.
She returned shortly.
"Ma'am, may I know what preference you had given in your ticket about the food?" she asked.

I was nonplussed. Food preference? I had no clue that this carrier had something like that. Then it struck me that my travel agent had not bothered to get that bit of detail from me when I booked the ticket.
"Umm..I don't think I mentioned any..."I said.
"I see...Well, ma'am, I am really sorry, but we ran out of veggie food trays. We are very sorry, but this has never quite happened before. Is there anything else I can get you?" she asked.

Damn, I thought.
Unpleasant first times happening with me.
"Yes, some of this salad, please," I said, pointing to that leafy mass in my tray.
"Sure ma'am, can I get you a drink?"

I sat staring at the detachable table. A glass of Coke, and two boxes of that leafy salad. Munching the last few bits of salad left, I felt bovine. These leaves were never getting in, they kept coming on how much ever I chewed. Damn them, I cursed.
I was reminded of home. How much I had fussed to eat idli or upma, I thought. I would even eat that rava upma I so hated, now. The hunger soon vanished.

The hostess was kind enough to later come and hand over a bun. I spread some butter and pushed it in.

The four-hour flight went by quick, thankfully. I didn't want to be the victim of anymore 'this is the first time' crap.

I finally reached my room. As none of my friends would be awake at this 'unearthly' 8 30 in the morning on a Sunday, I had to contend myself with unpacking and getting excited about the new stuff I had bought from the trip home.

The room had now come back to normal.
I reached for my knapsack and started emptying its contents. Mom had put in a lot of things in it. I smiled.
She had put in the jewellery box I had to refuse to take because of lack of space.
Mom, she can fit in anything, I thought.
There was some box I never remembered seeing before, when I was packing at home.
I opened it.
Then I realised why the security screening guys were glaring at me in their counter.

Inside the box were 4 idlis, with evenly spread molagai podi on them.
I smelled them. They had become spoilt.
With a heavy heart I threw them away.

P.S.: No, this is not a true story.

Thatha was nonplussed. "It has been sent?" he asked, in utter disbelief.
Vikram nodded. "Yes, really, he has recieved it and even replied," he said.
"Baghya, inga vandhu paaren, the letter I typed to send Krishna has been sent and he has replied also!" thatha cried with delight to patti.
Patti came and looked.
"Ada, aamaam!" she cried with surprise, and started reading the e-mail her second son Krishna had sent from the U.S. with her own, slow, speed.

Vikram smiled. His grandparents could not believe the speed of e-mail nor understand how it happens. He had tried many a time to explain to them, and finally realised that it was just the communication they needed and not how it works.
"Ah," cried thatha, "technology is improving at a great speed. Thank God I'm alive to see all these developments!" He went back to his room.

Vikram had just finished his class XII and was waiting for his results. Thatha had been a great support to him during his final exams, with his encouraging talk and more so with his prayers. Without his prayers, thought Vikram, I surely wouldn't have cracked that horrible Chemistry paper.

Thatha came back with another letter the next day.
"Dei Vikrama, please send it through that special mail da... It's very important, Krishna has to read this."
Vikram devotedly sent the mail and also read out the reply as soon as he got it.

Soon his grandparents were beginning to get doubts about e-mail.
"Dei Vikram, Subbu was saying her son in England wants to contact your father. She asked me for some e-mail address. I gave her our house address saying if she sent the mail to this address, you will be able to read it and tell me. But she was saying it's not possible..I did not know..." He gave a worried and bewildered look.
Vikram laughed. "Illa thatha, adhu mudiyadhu. Give her this address and she will know," and gave him his father's e-mail address.
Thatha took the paper with the e-mail id and stared at it. "Oh, ivalo vishayam irukko... this old mind will not understand all this da,"he said.

Vikram then went on to check his mail.
His heart started thumping loudly as he saw a mail from University of Toronto.
With his fingers shivering, he opened it.
Reading it, his heart leapt with joy. He had secured admission in the university, a long time dream of his.

Vikram left a month later. Life there was very different, but he learnt to enjoy it too. Meeting different people from different countries and cultures, was exciting for him.

He called home just about once a week. He knew he could not expect more correspondence from his extremely busy parents. He did not miss them. But he missed his thatha and patti. He had become very used to their presence in the two months he was entirely at home after his final exams. He missed the poojai mani that would ring everyday from 8 30 in the morning for two hours, when his grandparents were offering their prayers. He missed that little piece of fig his patti would give him everyday after she did the neivethiyam near the tulsi chedi.

It was a pleasant shock when he opened his mailbox one day. It had a mail from "Subramaniam, F/O Ramakrishnan" He opened it, amused. Could it be thatha?
Well, it was.

"Dei Vikrama," it read.
"I learnt how to send this e-mail from Ahswin, our next door kutti paiyan. How much he knows! I am so glad I can mail you with this service.
Patti and I are fine. Both of us miss you very much. Nobody is here to type our mails to Krishnan (though I have learnt to slowly look and type, I am not able to do it as fast as you) and to eat the figs after the neivethiyam. But we understand this education is important to you. Our blessings are always with you. Amma and appa are fine.
I have added you on Yahoo! messenger. I have also attached a photo of Muppathamman somebody sent. Put it on your desktop.
Thatha."

Vikram was stunned.
Mail, messenger, attachment....he couldn't believe it. And thatha had learnt it all in hardly a month!
True to his thatha's wishes, he put the Muppathamman photo as his desktop for some days. He removed it two days later when his thatha sent another picture of a sunrise taken from his room's balcony with his own digital camera.

Gosh, this is going too hi-tech, Vikram thought.

So bored....Can't actually believe I was eagerly waiting for this break. But it's sure fun to laze away when your daily planner is filled with work. That's just what the break is for!

As I desperately try to push in 'Interpersonal Communication' concepts into my head: Self concept, Reflected Appraisal and blah, I hear this buzz around somewhere.

Ugh, not again. Insects somehow seem to swarm around in my room a lot (yeah, swarm is an exaggeration, I'd die if they actually did!). Initially, I used to let out a gasp (or rather a muffled scream so that my room mate doesn't wake up or get startled to find me screaming at a vicious bug crawling on the floor!) and run to fetch my broom and be nice and sweep it out, alive, hale and healthy.

One month of stay in this room (and my room mate's lessons ;) ) has taught me what to do. The first time I found bugs in my room I wasn't really bothered. They are everywhere, and it's nothing abnormal that I occasionally find one or two buzzing aound. But when they exceeded their permitted frequency of arrival into my room, I of course had to take notice.

There was one fine night when after long hours of work, I finally went to start sleeping.
Buzzz.....
I tossed around and covered my ears with a pillow, thinking maybe it's something coming from someone's room.
Buzzz...
I shut both my ears with two pillows.
Buzzzz....
This was it.
I got up and switched the light on. I was cursing whatever or whoever it was (Umm, people don't really buzz but at that state of mind, I couldn't really use the reasoning faculties of my mind!). I looked about the room, as I was soon awake enough to conclude that it was some insect. And there it was, buzzing happily about my room's ceiling light!I was wild with anger. "Damn you, stupid bee!!" I yelled, as though it would understand. Yes, I was still not awake enough to realise that yelling wouldn't help.

Then an idea. I went and opened the door. It could fly out! I smiled, and waited for that bee to go out and enjoy with dimmer yellow lights in the corridor.

My room mate just walked in.
"The bee," I said. "I've kept the door open so it can get out."
She smiled.
"So that it can go out and more come in?"
Oh yeah, I didn't think of it, she has a point there.

"Just turn the light off, it'll go," she said.
"Oh no, then it goes to the next light in the room that's on."
"That's better. Turn the big light off."
I did so.

The bee flew to the light under my shelf that's supposed to light up my work desk.
Oh god, it was now buzzing louder than when it was near the ceiling light.
My room mate picked up a newspaper and looked under the shelf.
Whack!
I freaked out. Last thing I need here is to pay for a broken tubelight!
"It's somewhere in between...I'll get it," she said.
Another two more whacks and the bee had enough sense to fly out away from the tubelight.
Damned bee, I thought, you atleast had that much sense. I silently thanked God the tubelight wasn't broken.

Now the bee went somewhere near her bed.
She picked up a tissue and edho keezha vizhunda saapada edukara maadiri she squashed the bee (I know, sorry for the comparison!)

I heaved a sigh of relief, though I felt sorry for the bee. But not too long.
Another one flew in soon, and again went to my shelf's tubelight.
I was furious. What the hell was wrong with my room?!
Same procedure repeated. Dead bees thrown out.

Soon I picked up the art. I was able to confidently deal with a damned cockroach that had somehow made its way into my room. After some seconds of running away from it, I decided to confront it. Some whacks later, with my heart pounding with terror and a sense of disgust, I felt slightly proud. I, I, who would jump up and run for shelter on some high platform if I spotted a cockroach on the floor, had actually killed one. Well, yeah, it's not a nice feeling when you just killed a life, I felt sorry for the dead cockroach, but what else could I do? Adhu adhu adhoda idathula irundha inda problem-ey varaadhu.

After dealing this way with insects, I was happy. That's one fear of mine almost wiped out. The other two still remain, though: horror movies and sudden loud noises.

Thankfully, this time the buzz wasn't in my room. It was on the corridor. That's a life spared, I thought, and thanked God He didn't lead me to be a cause for violence(!). And prayed that He be kind to the insects and keep them away from my own room with concern for their own safety.

P.S.: Sorry if anyone squirmed at any of my descriptions; I'm here, experiencing them, so thank your stars you're far away, safe, without any insects buzzing in the vicinity.
P.P.S.: In case there is some insect buzzing around, all I'll say is "It just takes two whacks... and it's history!"
And I can't add anymore postscripts, so I'm saying this plain: Please, I hate killing animals...but if they're this troublesome, I can't help it! :(

Another tag.

7 things you plan to do b4 you die:

*Head Ogilvy and Mather, or at least be a copywriter there.
*Meet AR Rahman
*Meet a sensible guy. (Matthathellam pannidalaam, idhu romba kashtam!)
*Learn to cook, and try hard to like cooking!
*Sing for AR Rahman
*Take a trip of Europe
*Publish my book

7 things I can do:

*Be a great friend
*Laugh a lot, at myself and others
*Grit my teeth and go about anything
*Cheer up people
*Be nice to even people I hate
*Sleep at least 7 hours everyday
*Be optimistic!!!

7 things I can't do:

*Eat non veggie food
*Change some of my behaviours. Am quite resistant to any attempts to change me!
*Say or do something without thinking what others will think of it
*Give up on somethings or somepeople easily
*Keep my first impressions. They always change!!
*Forget bad things easily
*Cook!

7 things that attract me to the opposite sex:

*Height. Thin and tall guys
*Voice, should be deep
*Guys who look at your eye when they talk to you
*Hair
*Similar interests
*An attitude, those guys who give themselves airs. (Should be controlled, though! :P )
*Talk a lot, write well

7 things I say the most:

*Pisa
*Dhoda
*Hey!
*Poda/podi
*Hmmm....
*What the heck/hell
*Damn

7 celebrity crushes

*Madhavan
*Pete Sampras
*Arvind Swamy
*Rahul Dravid
*Karthik (singer)
*Sameer Dharmadhikari (Dharmu ;) he comes in the Sunrise ads)
*Josh Hartnett

No, I'm not going to ask anyone to take this tag. Pozhaichu Ponga!

Having a huge campus, our university has been considerate enough to have shuttle buses to take us around the campus. Till last year, we had to drop a 20 cents coin everytime we wanted to go in one. This year, the univ came up with the plan of (finally!) making it free. So, we thought, there ends the hassle of finding 20 c. coins every time you wanted to travel by a shuttle bus. Things didn't get that better, though.

After making the rides free, the univ. seems to have cut down the number of buses plying around. Buses now seem to take an eternity to come, and sometimes they even take as long as half an hour.

The most horrible times are the mornings, with huge queues for 8:30 classes. Being an unfortunate person with 8:30 a.m. classes three times a week, I am a victim of the overcrowded shuttle buses. There are some arivu jeevis who wake up earlier so that they can take the first bus that goes in the campus at 8. But come on, namalku idhellam otthu poguma? I make it a point to reach the bus stop only at 8:20. Some Indian mates may argue that even this is way too much, but since my lecturers aren't very pleased to see people walking in late and openly rebuke them, even if I don't care, at least I have to make some effort to make them think that what they say has some effect on me, :P so the whole thing.

The bus stops are still crowded. The univ is smart in that it has two shuttle bus routes A and B, which cover almost the same stops on the opposite sides of the road. So we have the 'comfort' of running to the other side of the road if a bus comes there.

As the morning buses are incredibly crowded, many a time the buses don't even stop in the bus stop, and we're left with standing in the stop staring like fools at the bus which just goes by, probably even wave a 'bye' if you find someone you know inside the bus.

Buses here stop only if you wave before it comes to the stop. There are some sad people who don't realise that the bus is overcrowded and go about waving, expecting the bus to stop, and even give 'what the heck!' stares if the bus doesn't stop. And I resist laughing with great difficulty, despite the pressure of reaching class on time.

What's more (self) entertainment is when I cross the road when I see the bus on the opposite side coming. We cross over, wait for the bus, realise it's crowded and hence won't stop. Then the bus on the other side comes, and we cross back again, only to realise that the driver was being unfair and didn't stop though at least five more people could've managed to get into the bus. Maybe he got intimidated at the sight of about 30 people waiting with bated breath for the bus. It's funny, when you realise that you've been 'shuttling' across the road more often than any 'shuttle' bus available. One comes at long last, and a huge wave of people swarms into the bus.

I must say that Singaporeans are quite inexperienced when it comes to traveling in a crowded bus. No one can probably beat Indians in that. Singaporeans, when they do try to squeeze into some place in the bus near the driver, unfortunately block the driver's view and get slightly yelled at(in Chinese, which of course I don't understand).

While this is one extreme, there is this other one of two or three empty buses going behind one another, within a gap of say, 30 seconds. One day I had the misfortune of getting into one of the second buses of a row of three. And I was the only one in the bus. The driver was really angry with me, why I didn't know, then I guessed that maybe if it weren't for me, he would've parked the bus in the 'depot' and gone for a rest or something. He kept expectantly looking at me through his mirror as every stop neared, wondering if I would get down, making me extremely uncomfortable, wishing I could get down somewhere and walk the rest of the way. Nobody, unfortunately for me, even got into the bus, despite the driver waiting for a couple of minutes at every stop. Finally after what seemed to be hours of discomfort, I got down from the bus.

Hmm....accounts of a shuttle bus travel!

She was sweating profusely. She didn’t know what to do.
Decisions can sometimes be so hard to make, she thought. She then brushed aside the thought and started thinking again. She must not waste any more time.
She reached out for the box of tissues on her table and wiped her face. And before she knew it, she had already wasted precious minutes.

In her anxiety, her fingers unconsciously went near her mouth. Slowly, and with ferocity she did not even realize, she was biting her nails, in a maniacal fashion. It was like she was giving vent to all her anxiety by biting off those beautifully polished nails. She suddenly looked at them, just as she realized that she was biting nails.
“God!” she thought. The beautiful baby pink nail enamel had now lost its glory. She thought of Vidya, who would keep chiding her for biting nails. And as she thought of Vidya, she thought she felt the taste of nail polish in her mouth.

“Ugggghhhhh!!!” she exclaimed.
She reached for that bottle of water nearby and gulped the water furiously, all the while thinking what to do.
Time was moving fast.
She had to act fast, too.

She hated such kind of working. Working under pressure. They never brought out the best from her, she always felt. Her best was always when she did things just by chance – her award winning short story, for instance; it was just written one night when she couldn’t sleep. This was one reason why she could never really do her school assignments well – the teachers gave deadlines. Deadlines always freaked her out. This, is very, very bad, she thought; whatever she would ultimately have in life would have deadlines; deadline to finish university education (though not exact, there was always this deadline of “Finish by 4 years.” ). Deadlines to find a job; or to get married. Deadlines to finish projects at work. Deadlines ruled life.
Deadlines!! She got highly irritated at this thought.

She suddenly shook her mind off all this thought.
Time was moving fast, again, and she still hadn’t made her decision.

God, why such a trap, she thought. Why now, why me! Why not someone else? Have you no consideration, she thought, as she wiped her face and fanned herself with the other hand, as though this fanning would give her any amount of relief.

She stared helplessly.
She looked at the time. It was ticking fast.
And she still didn’t know what to do.
It was well over five minutes. She had to do something fast.

She gingerly touched it and pressed it.
“Nooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” she screamed.
She screamed her heart out. A silent tear somehow found its way out and left a trail on her right cheek. And before she knew it, another one slowly trickled down the other cheek.
This isn’t fair, this is just not fair, she thought.

All because of the pressure. All because of that ticking clock which couldn’t make me think.
She stared at the screen.
At the minesweeper screen where she had clicked on the wrong box and lost the game with the one mine left, after 523 seconds of hard thinking.

One week since I posted and I'm already getting impatient, thinking about what to post next; topics, again, range from the A.R.Rahman concert in Singapore that I will miss because it's horrendously expensive, to the-saree-wearing-singing-hungama that happened on Wednesday, to cursing my heavy, burdening, workload.
And then, it struck me; one thing I would be ready all my life to ramble about for as long as possible - dear old Chennai.
Every time I looked at the name of my blog, I would feel pretty stupid - chennaigalwrites?? Then I convince myself saying it was a name I had thought of in class X, four years ago, when I had first heard of blogs and so badly wanted to have one, but did not know how to. Then I thought, probably the name ain't that stupid, for after all, it defines me, I am a Chennai girl.
I am the only misfit in a family where everyone unanimously hates this city. What's there to hate, I wonder. Well, of course, there are umpteen number of reasons - bad water, roads dug up every now and then, the heat, the pollution, the current cuts (thankfully not in my home sweet home!) and blah. But hey, I say, every Indian city has them! Studying in a place where none of these problems virtually exist, I must confess, I miss them. What's the point living in a place where you don't face any problems? Staying in cities like good ol' Chennai only makes you appreciate these things more. Things feel so artificial sometimes in Singapore, and I'm left wondering what's the point. Grass mowed every three or four days with an annoyingly loud machine, vehicles which take the leaves off the road everyday.... Well, give me a break!
Just facing totally unconnected streams of thoughts....I'm reminded of the highly occasional 'Bangalore vs. Chennai' fights that I used to lead back home, and sometimes here, too, with the Bangaloreans. Chennai, I say, has a soul. It has people who live life normally despite the innumerable shortcomings they face everyday, right from water to public transport. It has a just perfect blend of tradition and modernity, the perfect Kabaleeshwarar koil devotee and Saturday discotheque freak. Girls here shop in Globus as much as they would on Pondy Bazaar's famed platform shops. Chennai has everything. Chennai is brimming with life, brimming with optimism. Chennai can shrug trouble off its shoulders and come back to normalcy after any disaster, the tsunami being the prime example.
Now everytime I go back, I make sure I never have that NRI feeling (uhh, well, if I can be called one??) of 'God, how did I live in this country?' which I so terribly hate. Life so smoothly glides into the Chennai way of living as my flight lands and I start in long queues which people break with ease, for immigration. When in Chennai, I become the chennaigal, feasting on amma's amazing thakkali rasam and vendekkai curry. And jumping over those can't-be-counted number of potholes. Wading through the heavy Usman Road traffic with ease. Taking a bath before 10 a.m., before the water stops. Fighting a vain battle with grandparents to watch a different channel, and ultimately ending up watching 'Metti Oli' or 'Kolangal' with them. Bargaining with the shopkeepers in Pondy Bazaar. Standing in the strangling queues in temples. Getting crushed in the overcrowded public buses, and sometimes, footboard travel too. And yes, living a life.
Living in Chennai can make you prepared for anything in life. After living in Chennai, I sure can face most of the things in life, and with a schooling from DAV, I dare say, anything, anything, can be confronted!!!
Oh god, off I go rambling again. I can almost see the 'Organizational Communication' textbook on my table glaring at me and saying, "Hello, you were supposed to read something from this book??"
And yet again, I'm unable to think of any heading for this post, now that the org. comm. book is staring right down at me. So this post gets a name I've used twice before, it's a sequel.
And hey, Chennai rules!!! :)