... When
I would only wear a paavadai-dhavani,
Oil my hair everyday and wear flowers,
Draw the kolam in the corridor and
be the lady my mother is proud of...
Spend 10 paise for the bus ticket
and go to college,
and be one of the five girls doing their B.Sc
in a class of 50!
Go to the beach in the lunch break,
have ice creams for Rs 3,
Drool over Amitabh or Gregory Peck,
copy Jaya's hairstyle?
Walk home to save the 10 paise
and listen to music in the turn-table
Pay Re 1 and talk on the phone for hours
Listen to the cricket commentary
in the tiny transistor radio and
cheer wildly for India!
Then crowd around the big radio and
listen to the news, and then
new Tamil music...
until mother calls us all for dinner
with sutta applam, claiming it's special,
and then chase us all off to bed while we,
sisters and cousin sisters, giggle throughout...
Wow, wouldn't living in the 70s have been fun? (Even sans the things we can't survive without today?)

Seriously. Deaths everywhere, most in man’s hands, as if plane crashes, earthquakes, tsunamis and floods weren’t enough. What the hell is happening to the world, to the cruel we who inhabit it?
Two weeks back, a series of blasts I needn’t talk about. Attacks on Lebanon. Regular blasts in Iraq. An unresolved Palestine issue on which hundreds die every week, at least. Damn, I’m irritated. And what am I doing other than just feel irritated and further still, talk about it in the blog? I’m scared I’ll just live through it, and die some day just like any other normal person. Is anything in our hands? Our protests, strikes and so on… do they have any effect? What happened to the Reservation issue despite heavy protests country wide by students?
It was a shame to watch the parliamentary proceedings yesterday on Television. Members of the ruling party and opposition literally bitching about each other, calling the other liars, and yelling slogans in the house. And a frustrated speaker, who was totally helpless, that he had no choice but to adjourn the house. It’s disgusting, it’s shameful. I don’t care if this happens in every country around the world, it all just boils down to the same thing – we are a miserable, messed up species. We all lust for money and power that in the end is not going to help even the tiniest bit.
If I could, I would have throttled the neck of one TV channel producer who decided to screen “special” movies on 26^th July commemorating the first anniversary of the day when the world woke up to the fact that Mumbai was drowning in floods. ‘Watch special movies on 26^th July and stay at home all day – don’t venture out’ the promos said. How cheap can we get? In what way are we paying any homage to the people who lost their lives or to the families who suffered an irreparable loss?
I hang my head down in shame.
I belong to such a world.
I just pray that we can do something about it. That all of us, members of the filthy race called humans, realize our mistakes. Hope that I live long enough to see us change. God save us all.

Oh, just a bit pissed off. Doesn’t mean I’m having any less fun! The Pani puris, ice creams, DVD movies, entertainment from the kid upstairs, and from kids in the garden nearby go on! (Ironic, I know)

It's amazing how one month flies by even if you're utterly bored, jobless, and desperate to get out. One month since my vacation began, and I have done nothing significant. If you'd discount knowing words like cat, dog and horse in Gujarati, shading with colour pencils, eating off roadside stalls, of course.

Worst part is I've landed with a cold, which has even cancelled my everyday little ice cream parties.
And good Lord, I heavily miss Radio Mirchi. The Radio Mirchi here is obviously entirely in Hindi, and though the RJs are decent (they have great voices!), they discuss some extremely important things like why the director of 'Dus' ended his marriage and left his wife and child abandoned. I couldn't believe it, they had an entire discussion on such a topic, and I was purley disgusted.

Well, at least if the songs were good, I'd probably grit my teeth and listen to the RJs going on and on with their gibberish. The songs are TERRIBLE! I'm left wondering at the staleness of Hindi songs... and Himesh Reshmiyya... oh my God! The station somehow keeps playing only his songs (or yeah, 'Mitwaaaaaaaaaaaa' and 'Kabhi Alvida naa..' which are better, though!), and his awful nasal voice, his similarity to Inzamam-ul-Haq (which I laugh about!) and his songs (each of which I think he insists on singing!) make me wish with every ounce that I was in Chennai listening to Suchi, Balaji or AJ or even the unbearable Chinna-thambi-Periya-thambi duo in Suryan FM. Deivam!!

And Television, no better. We have over 125 channels I used to long for in Chennai (like HBO, the Zee English series and the Sports channels) and just a few of these manage to retain my interest. Wimbledon kept me really occupied until it's amazing finish with an equally amazing Federer (awwwww.... he's just second.. Pete Sampras always rocks!)... Federer, with his excellent forehands and backhands and his calm self (excluding the weeping he does when he wins or loses) was a total delight to watch.

Yesterday, with a firm resolve, I decided to watch Bunty aur Bubli on Max. Never mind the movie, it's not worth talking about here, the ads every 15 mins (for 15 mins, bloody!!) totally bugged me! And best part was I couldn't follow what happened in the very end :( which left me even more frustrated.

Ok, if I continue at this rate, I'll be turning my blog into a moaning forum :P
Signing off,
Bored even while doing other things.

So the girl stuck in Gujju land finally got to move around with dear ol' mum.







First stop: Kankaria lake.
Pedal boating after a very long time.







Then, stopped by this mosque (whose name, err.. doesn't really register!) which was built by a possessive king who later ordered the hand of the builder to be chopped off! The designs on the windows are extremely intricate, and of course, beautiful.








And then to this temple - which, incidentally, was different - the only 'Gods' were idols of three men in kurta-pyjamas!
-- The Sri Swami Narayan temple
Saw those dark clouds?
Spoilsports, bah.





And, it rained. It poured. Winds blew. A thousand trees fell. Cables got cut. So did my internet connection.







Stuck at home, without the WWW, was forced to turn to other forms of entertainment.....







......... like this...........














...... and this........
Psst... that's a peacock on someone's terrace!!









So on, until folks at home took pity and took her out again... here...

..... the Sabarmati Ashram.







Brilliance, humbling.












Narmada, the delicate darling.... the princess of controversies?









And is back to being bored now. At least, the net connection is back after one harrowing week of yelling, cursing and a bit of silent swearing (in Gujarati :D) too!
Hmmm... and to think just 3 more weeks left to go back again!
Forgive me for the resolution of the pics... had to purposely reduce them to make the blog easier to load!

Smriti was fussing. She wouldn’t eat. I ran behind her, finding it difficult to keep pace with those cherubic little legs as she ran from one room to another, trying to avoid me, to avoid eating.

I knew what she wanted – all the running around she was doing was for exactly one end – the terrace.

‘Smriti…’ I called out, and she stopped, knowing what I was about to say. She turned and grinned at me. I grinned back.

‘The terrace!!!’ we cried in unison.

The little girl insisted on taking the stairs, not the elevator. I huffed and puffed as I climbed four floors to the terrace, a bowl of curd rice in hand – curd rice peppered with bits of cabbage – now that would require some extra effort to push into the little devil, I thought.

I sighed as I picked the shreds of cabbage and put them in a corner of the bowl – the girl simply refused to eat them. Why should I be right most of the times?

There was a glimmer of hope from among the clouds – literally – the moon came out of hiding. Cream, majestic, and resplendent. Shining. My saviour. To get my little angel to eat.

‘Amma, look!!’ cried my imp. ‘The moon!!!’

‘Yes, dear, the moon,’ I replied, absentmindedly.

She ran to the other corner of the terrace to have a better view.

I was losing patience.

‘Smriti,’ I called out. ‘C’mon…let me tell you a story about the moon while you eat…’ I said. Pointing my index finger up to the full moon on the sky, I said, ‘See those black spots on the moon…’

‘No!’ she interrupted.

What now?

‘The moon is here, ma..’ she said pointing directly upward from her corner of the terrace. ‘Not there!!’

I smiled.

‘Of course, Smriti….’ I said, walking towards her. ‘The moon is here.’

My little imp. She always wins.

When nothing interesting is actually happening in life around, even the craziest or dullest things can becoming something worth writing about, even if it is just to pass time. So here I am! If this is really bugging, do pardon me - for I am feeling sluggish and bugged, and it wouldn't be long before I'm back to writing something else!

So off we went to a temple on my second day in Gujju land. And I did anything but pray there... everything around was different! First, the little boys who came to beat the temple drums. When I first entered, random little boys took up the chance of beating the drums. My interest near its peaks, I asked my mum if I could go do it too. Ah, well, of course not - it's just for those guys who're in the temple school. So I kept watching as they beautifully brought in newer rhythms throughout the arati. Oh, that reminds me, the arati was so long I got bored standing there. The craziest part was till around three days later, I had no clue which God the temple was dedicated to. A few days later, I ask mom and she says 'Didn't you notice the lingam in the sanctorium?' Damn me if I did... I was too busy looking around at people and temple walls, and of course, silently ridiculing the Gujarati script in my mind.

I've been eating awesome food off roadside stalls, things we would have never dreamed of in Chennai, mostly because we wouldn't trust the water they use. Here I have had pani puri, an extremely tasty and tangy soda made in a weird way, and of course, ice cream everyday.

Bargaining is so much fun here. I stand by and watch, as my mum deftly brings down the price of a kurta from Rs 350 to Rs 100 - the best part being that we finally didn't buy it :P I could almost hear the poor shopkeeper calling us 'behen' cursing!

A good source of entertainment here is the delightful 2-year-old kid living upstairs. We both can't understand what the other says, but the kid is so cute and has such beautiful eyes that I don't even mind it when she hits me ;) [God knows for what, but kids have their reasons!] This kid has taught me gujju for dog, cat and so on, and everytime she says anything in Gujarati, my mum and I frantically look through the 'Learn Gujarati in a month' book to know what she says. Gujju is such a tough and funny language - almost sounds like Chinese to me, because of it's innumerable hoons, chhos and choons. One word I know perfectly is no - naah!

Duh, life is such a bore now, with just three activities filling my day - eating, sleeping and internet. Sometimes going out, or taking a walk or jogging in the huge garden nearby. One 'party' yesterday seemed to promise fun - an office party for my dad. Well, it was fun in a way - looking at everybody's plastic smiles and polite masquerades as they sat and 'enjoyed' a singer's performance. I was the only one of my age there (I went just to give my mom some company! :P), and felt completely lost in the world of working men and their (bitching) wives, all politely smiling at one another and introducing themselves, and asking random questions to keep the conversation from crumbling apart. God, I hope I never have to attend such parties in my life - tough calling, considering the field I've opted to go into! I also realised yesterday that I have become such a talkative girl as I comfortably chatted with some lady - oh, she was poking fun of Chennai, and could I be silent without telling them what I really thought of Gujju land? :)

Sigh, that's all there is to in life now. No companions of my age, people at home who are either more bored than me or just too depressed to give me company, hot weather and an unknown language. It could be fun, but I miss Chennai! If only I could reverse time, go six months back in time, to my old house, to Chennai and to playing with my little nephew, who was all alive and bursting with joy! Oh well, there's a lot to learn from life - and to not think of the past is a huge lesson.

Finally, I finished a post after helluva lot of interruptions. I'm all smiles!!!!



28/06/06: Got drenched in Ahmedabad's summer's first rains. Played on the road with kids. Just stood still for minutes, wondering how nature could get this beautiful. Listened to the peacock nearby voice its happiness in its shrill tone. Bliss.

The first thing I noticed when I landed in the Ahmedabad airport was the way ‘a’ was so skewed up in Gujarati. This of course, only beside the sweltering heat that made me feel Chennai is way better, really. I felt like I was walking through a furnace – and grimaced at the thought that just a few minutes back, I had to hug myself to keep warm in the crazy Air Deccan flight.

Well, Air Deccan did turn out to be better than people had described – it wasn’t noisy, and the aircraft wasn’t like a taxi. It was a decent airbus, and I was quite comforted at that. No food, of course… this was the first time I was taking a budget airline in India, and it definitely was just as (errr…) good as the domsetic Air India or Indian Airlines flights I’ve been in before.

After 2 busy days in Bangalore with my sister and one hurried one-day trip to Chennai, I’m home in Ahmedabad 5 days after I landed in India. The new place is weird, different – I can’t believe this is actually my home and I’m not in someone else’s home for just a vacation. It’s tough to accept! The city’s good, though. Unless you discount the heat. It’s still sort of bright at 8 in the evening, the roads are so broad, I can’t believe this is an Indian city, and they’re really clean too. And my ‘new’ home is a bit old, though… I feel like I’m living in some house built in the 80s (I think this was!!), with its old-fashioned rooms and style of the apartment. It’s apparently located in a posh locality, but we’re yet to have a 24-hour broadband Internet connection. So much for living in an area where police commissioners, judges and mayors are our neighbours.

New place, new home, new life. Lots of things are different this time. Darn, I miss my Chennai home and Chennai itself (of course!). But damn, it’s great to be home.

PS: All you people in Chennai now (lucky ones!!), there’s going to be a bloggers’ meet at Ascendas in Taramani on 24th Jun in the evening. Do check out Mark’s blog for more details!