Are we "settled"?

Now that we have made the move, we are invariably asked, "Are you settled?" It set me thinking. What does settling down really mean? It might mean various things to various people, but to me, settling down means that:

• I have found that cosy nook in the house where I can curl up to read a book or write down my musings
• I have found a similar haunt outdoors where I can soak in the sun and watch the world pass by or gaze at nature
• I have organized all cupboards and can locate stuff without opening all of them and rummaging through suitcases
• I know which brand of milk to buy or cheese to pick up without reading the ingredients (so as not to end up buying milk supplemented with fish oils!)
• I know green household cleaners and toiletries and know where to get them
• I know what to buy from which store
• I know where to drop my recyclable garbage
• I have replaced all the yellow lights in the house with white lights
• I  know all kindergarteners and their parents at the bus stop
• I know quarters from dimes and can confidently pay the exact change
• I know a park and can take little A there whenever I want
• I become a member of the library and start issuing books 
• I can rattle mine and D's phone numbers without batting an eyelid
• I have enough pots and pans and dishes so one person doesn't have to wait till another finishes her milk ;)
• I am associated with something - a cause, an organization, a job to keep me occupied

Most of the above is yet to be done, so you get the drift. But if having an apartment, a few pieces of furniture, a couple of friends and little A joining school, is enough to be considered as "settled" for someone so young in the country, yeah we are settled. For all practical purposes and let's take the middle path - we are settling down, one day at a time. Thanks for asking, dear family, friends and well-wishers! 

5 surprises in 7 days - Atlanta Journal

One cosy December evening found us in Atlanta. We had packed our house in Bangalore, bundled up a few belongings and lots of memories, said goodbye to our friends and family and boarded the flight to Frankfurt and then to Atlanta. The haul from Hartsfield–Jackson Atlanta International airport to our hotel in Buckhead gave us a taste of our first surprise.

1.Traffic - If horrible traffic was one of the reasons I moved from Bengaluru, I surely was in for a nasty surprise. Atlanta is notorious for its traffic jams. You can be stuck in crawling traffic for ages. The silver lining : Those Whitefield and Silk Board traffic jokes can be recycled and reused here, with a local tadka:)

2. Use of Disposables - Turning up for breakfast in the hotel the first morning, I was in for another unpleasant surprise. Breakfast was served in disposables. Each piece of cutlery was packed in plastic. At first I wondered if the use of disposables was because of the ongoing renovation at the hotel. But my husband, who had been in the same hotel at other occasions, told me this was the norm.

I shuddered at the waste created by the end of one breakfast. Mr. President, along with Paris and Copenhagen talks, why not start with a few simple things like making it mandatory to use reusables for meals at hotels? A lot of energy would be saved from production, transportation and recycling. 

3. Garbage segregation - The concept is not very popular here. I have stayed in a couple of hotels and been to a few friends' places and haven't seen separate bins for garbage. One big bin with all your trash, that's how the waste is collected. It's quite disheartening to see that. Time to start a green team here, I guess!

4. School pick-up time - 6:45 am. Are they kidding the kids? To add to this, the younger the kid, the earlier she has to leave for school. The older kids go later! The school transport, is however, free which is so convenient. 

5. Chilled drinks - No matter how cold it is, no matter if it's snowing, If it's a drink you want, it will be served chilled, if not with ice. With drinks, I mean water, juice, soft drinks and even milk.

Welcome to the land of abundance! Hope it becomes a land of responsible consumerism too.

Why grandparents aren't allowed to live in apartments

Recently, my parents talked about shifting to an apartment from their independent house and my heart missed a beat. It wasn’t just because of memories associated with the house. It was also for the fact that my 4 year old daughter would not be able to experience life in an independent house. We live in an apartment. My parents-in-law recently shifted from a house with large outdoors to an apartment.  There is something about an independent house which an apartment lacks. Maybe character? Where and how would my daughter experience the joys of an independent house? Besides, grandparents living in an apartment just doesn't sound right!!

When I was her age, I spent my summer vacations at my maternal grandparents’ sprawling house. It was a labyrynthine haveli with rooms that had exotic sounding names like ‘baradari’, ‘chaubara’, ‘tibari’, ‘jharokha’ and ‘darikhana’. A gala time awaited us from the moment we disembarked from rickshaw. Right from playing with cousins in different rooms and rooftops of the haveli to sleeping on terrace at night, I relished every moment of my stay. The haveli was said to be 150 years old and had fascinating stories about tunnels, ghosts, hidden treasures and bygone luxuries, which kept us suitably mystified through long summer days and provided grist to our gossip mill in nights. The house was so big that it was an ordeal in itself to find and collect us all during meal times.

Visits to my paternal grandparents’ place were a memorable experience of a different nature. It was a small town and the house was rustic where floors needed a cow dung and mud plaster every 15 days. A couple of rooms were dedicated to storing hay. In summers, cart loads of mangoes would land in those haystacks. Imagine eating bucketful of mangoes for breakfast and competing with cousins to throw mango pits the farthest. We kids had a fantastic time. Then there was a well in our compound and it fascinated me no end. I loved the sound of pail going splash when it hit the surface, the glug it made when tilted and the rush of water once it started filling. Pulling up the heavy bucket was hard work and a cousin was always around to give my little hands a helpful tug. The water was incredibly cool and refreshing. A couple of turtles called the well their home and it was an added bonus to spot them. Here again, the days were spent playing both indoor and outdoor games with cousins and neighbors or reading comics. The highlight of the trip for me, however, was a visit to our fields. Mango laden trees, a ride in a bullock cart, a shower at tube well, a picnic in picturesque fields, were all a treat to the senses.

My parents’ current house, though very pretty, is not that exotic and neither is it full of cousins for my daughter. In fact, she is the only kid around when she visits them. Large families gone, large houses are bound to follow suit. Why am I so hung up on a big, independent house then? Some contemplation led to enlightenment. A large, independent house is the last vestige of that joie de vivre which was a hallmark of joint families. I miss that feeling of being in a joint family, albeit for vacations and knowing that those times are not going to come back, I think I am just stuck on the symbolism!

This post was published in 'Right in the middle' section of Deccan Herald.
http://www.deccanherald.com/content/544004/grand-old-symbol.html

Look, Who Read My Blog!

In my last post, I was cribbing how nobody reads and comments on my blog posts and is it worth writing a blog when nobody does so. Little did I know that my blog was soon  to be read and judged by none other than Bachi Karkaria - a renowned journalist, author and a former editor of Times of India (TOI). Not just read, but also liked enough for me to be selected for Times Passion Creative Writing Trail.

The Times of India, which is a highly renowned newspaper in India, had come up with a very interesting concept. It had conceived of various Passion Trails - travel itineraries with a small group of like minded people, led by a trail architect who was an expert in that area.  The themes of these Trails ranged from tracking footsteps of snow leopards in Ladakh to sampling street food in a particular region, from temple photography in South India to culture and heritage trail in a certain state. 

First evening in Mumbai with Bachi, Shaili and fellow participants

I was  quite proud to be a part of the Creative Writing Trail because participants were selected from a host of applicants from all over India. From the moment I set my eyes on the ad for the Creative Writing Trail, I knew that I was meant to be a part of it - ki jaise isko banaya gaya hai mere liye! 

Since my little one had come in my life, I was notorious for not reading newspapers on time. I also didn't want to dispose off the newspapers without reading them first, so I had stacks of them stored everywhere. Whenever I found few precious minutes, I would pull a random paper and devour it! So the fact that I read the newspaper in the same year (not to say anything of the same month:) ) and saw this ad in time, was a big sign in itself. Then I remembered to visit the Passion Trails website and registered myself I time. I also managed to fill up  convincing answers to questions like "Who is your favorite author and book?" and "Why should you be selected to be a part of the trail?". Trust me, this was a big achievement in itself because chores of life, have a knack of burying all other stuff in deep recesses of Neverland. The fact that I did everything in time plus my 4 blogs and a few published middles gave me some dough to display.

I was on cloud nine when I got a mail from TOI announcing my selection. True, I had to spend 40 k for participation, but even the Marwaran in me was convinced that it was worth the experience. After all, I was going to have a session with Javed Akhtar, that stalwart of Hindi film industry, who has given us movies like 'Sholay' and ' Deewar' and countless memorable songs. Apart from him, there was an interesting mix of famous wordsmiths like Amish Tripathi, Swanand Kirkire, Shaili Chopra, Vinay Shukla, Agnello Dias and of course Bachi, who was the trail architect and was to stay with us throughout the trail.

A literary session with Javed Saab at JW Marriott, Mumbai. What an afternoon!!!

Stories from the Trail will lend themselves to another narrative. What I wanted to express in this post is how my belief got reinforced - the belief that no endeavor in life gets wasted. My blogs and middles took me to the Trail. I had a body of work that spoke to someone. My writing mattered. 

The Trail has already made precious memories and lovely friends. Who knows where all will it take me from here! Cheers to future literary journeys and happy blogging :)

No comments!

Have you ever been to a drought affected place where people have been waiting for rains - their expectant eyes scouring the sky for a hint of a cloud? Day after day, they long for a drop but have to go back with zilch, nothing, nada. Have you ever felt that thirst? Chances are, you haven't. Okay, let me give you another scenario. Imagine posting a message or a picture on Facebook and not getting a single 'like' or comment. Rings a bell? This is how I feel when I send a link of my blog post to people and they don't leave any comment. I call it a 'blogger's nightmare'....no comments on her blog!

It's not that people don't read. Those faithful family members and friends do plough through my writings once in a while. They even like it at times and tell me in person or over mail that they read and liked the post. But why, oh why, doesn't anybody ever leave a comment on the blog??? Even the most vocal and verbose people turn silent when confronted with this question. After giving a lot of thought to the matter, I think I might have found some answers.

Maybe it's the content. It's not interesting enough to elicit a comment. The post should be so wow that people can't help but comment on it.

Maybe it's the audience. I am not being able to reach the right audience who would like to read the topics I touch on. 

Maybe, it's the frequency. I am not posting regularly enough to maintain an audience.

In wise words of Chatur from '3 idiots' - 'Hota sabke paas hai, par deta koi nahi'

I have been compiling reasons of koi deta kyu nahi!! Here they are:

I was about to comment on your blog, but:

- My baby woke up

- My English is not good enough. I was scared of making mistakes

- Your write-up was so good, I wanted to write a well thought-out comment( Someone actually said that!)

- I am plain lazy

- I can't find time

Trust me, I even asked my brother to gift only a comment as a Rakhi gift, but he didn't oblige.

My husband says that if  he comments, it would look staged. (We both know he is making an excuse!)

My sis-in-law politely excused herself saying that she has a policy of not reading blogs. 

My other sis-in-law actually sat down once to write a comment but at that opportune moment, her doorbell rang. The moment passed and never came back again!

My 'working' friends say that they hardly get time to read anything - forget my blogs!

My 'non-working' friends say that they hardly get time to log in. 

But they all agree that I should keep up the 'good work'. 

How to find an interested audience? In the virtual space with millions of choices, it's really a miracle that somebody even visits your blog. Yet, that miracle does pan out for so many star bloggers. If I want to be in the same league, I will have to concentrate on content and its frequency. I do  hope to get a willing audience. If not, my blogs will serve as a personal journal and fulfil my urge to be creative every now and then.

Let's see what 2015 has in store!

PS: No prizes for guessing that even this piece didn't fetch any comments!!!

Mera wala blue in the waters of Maldives

The zillion shades of water is indeed mind boggling and hypnotising. I had to renew my vocabulary on the color blue after visiting Maldives.

The water is enchantingly beautiful, to say the least. It is turquoise, cerulean, jade.....but whatever the color, it is always warm and oh-so-inviting. The shallower parts are crystal clear. I just couldn't get enough of it. I could gaze at it for hours, wonder about its beauty, sigh and gaze some more. And when I thought that was it, I could go underwater and get transported to another magical world.

You can gaze and watch the play of light on different depths. In a while, you are able to spot the shallow area with coral reefs.

The aerial view of islands is breathtaking. It looks as if one day when God wanted to paint, the color blue caught his fancy. He dipped his brush in a palette and casually splattered the colour on canvas which happened to be Indian Ocean. Those dabs of color fell down in the form of little atolls. Dabs of ink

Cyan

Turquoise

Jade

Cerulean

Teal

Azure

Sapphire

Cobalt

You can take your picture to Asian paints to get mera wala blue....

Maldivian blues: And then this is the shade of your mood when you come back from your Maldivian holiday....specially if you missed going on a whale shark safari :(

I did go to a coral reef viewing cruise and snorkeled at the nearby beach every day but that was not enough! 

Old reads revisited - Rebecca & Talented Mr. Ripley

When you start rereading books, is it a sign that you are getting old? I recently dug out two books which I had enjoyed during my college days. I was curious to know if they evoked the same reaction after a gap of these many years.

The first one I read was 'Rebecca'. Manderley was majestic and so was the story. Even after knowing that Rebecca was murdered by her own husband, my sympathies were with Maxim and his new wife. I personally felt cheated when Manderley was set on fire towards the end of the story. The new Mrs. & Mr. de Winter deserved peaceful and beautiful days in Manderley. I wonder if a sequel was written and if Manderley was restored to its former glory. I wish it was. 

Going back to the plot, there was a huge suspense around the hearing after the discovery of boat near the beach. All the fragments of the story fitted together. At the end, there weren't any questions, only regret.

On the other hand, I was far less impressed by 'The Talented Mr. Ripley' this time around. I felt there were gaping holes in the plot.

One, didn't the boat owner in San Remo report the matter to local police and wasn't a hunt launched for two guys who had hired the boat and gone missing?

Two, how could Marge accept whatever was dished out to her? Why didn't she try to contact Dickie personally even once while he was in Rome? She evidently had a deeper relationship with him and she would have known him better.

Three, after Freddie's murder, wasn't the landlady questioned? Later, when the case was in newspapers, didn't she see a different picture of Dickie in the paper? Same for all the hotel staff in Rome and Palermo? Couldn't one person recognise that the picture of Dickie Green-leaf did not match with the guy who lived there?

Fourth, why did Marge suddenly turn friendly towards Tom in Venice, specially after he stood her up at Rome?

Fifth, why did Dickie's father turn friendly towards Ripley? Why didn't he question the will?

Sixth, this is not a loophole in the plot. I just have been brought up on a diet of 'triumph of good over evil'. When you see evil winning, your whole conviction takes a thrashing. 

Interestingly, I wanted the de Winters to enjoy their well deserved wealth, which they could not. And I grudged Mr. Ripley his ill-gotten wealth which he, unfortunately, got to enjoy. That's how life is!

Verdict: I came out equally impressed with Rebecca as I was the first time but Mr. Ripley disappointed.