The more I grow up (or age gracefully), the more I seem to be reflecting on the days gone by. The best days were the ones I spent in school. I have such vivid memories of the sights, the sounds, the experiences and even the smells. I was in an all-girls school for the first 10 years and it was as memorable as it can ever be. I was in LOVE with our cute white and red uniform. The crisp white shirt, the white box pleated divided skirt, the red belt, the red socks and the cute red hair accessories were the best. I was always the tall one in my class. I got to stand at the end of the line, sit at the back of the class and play the male part in all the school plays. While the rest of the girls got to play the pretty princess or Mary in the Christmas pageant, i was always the prince, the father, the scraggly old man, Joseph or even one of the 3 Kings! My best friend was also in my school(obviously!) she even lived in the neighbourhood and we had so much fun together. Studying or doing homework was the last thing on our minds as we spent so many carefree days playing hop-scotch, badminton, and eventually moved on to talking about boys and clothes. My mother would always find me at her house at mealtimes. I used to time my visits to coincide with the appam stew, beef curry or kari meen that her mother used to make. At other times, i used to make do with the pickles they had specially sent in from Kerela. I was heartbroken when they moved away. Eventually we did too and like all children, i made new friends, went to a new school, found interests like rock and roll and Madonna to amuse me and got more than my fair share of attention from the boys.
My school days were full of fun and learning. I remember coming home after Elocution class to teach my mom how to pronounce and enunciate correctly. Or loving Shakespeare's Tempest with all my heart. I fondly remember the SUPW(Socially useful Productive Work) classes and the needle point tea-cosy i had so proudly made. I remember being the flag bearer at the march past on our Sports days, but never winning anything at the race. I remember my basketball days and how my mother used to take me for practice even on a Sunday, riding a hot-tin bus when we did not have the luxury of a car. I remember so proudly wearing our basketball uniform of a teeny-tiny red miniskirt(I still had legs then!) and making heads turn as we went to other schools to participate. I really don't remember how many we won or lost, but the feeling of being out there, with peers was beyond extraordinary. I loved being on stage too be it singing Leaving on a Jet plane, or participating in the Christmas Pageant, singing Alto in the Choir or playing the part of the angry father in the dramatisation of Mill on the Floss.
I was a good student too. I had a good head and when needed i could apply myself on the academic level. I was in the top 10 of my class and other than in Hindi, i was a high scorer on most subjects. The time spent in the school library was one of wonder for me. It was there that I discovered Enid Blyton and her magical use of words. I would read each and every book she ever wrote and as i grew older i moved on to Nancy Drews, Hardy Boys, Hitchcock and then...Mills and Boon!
My mother till this day believes that I would be a better person(a doctor perhaps??), had Mills and Boons not filled my young, impressionable head with wild, passionate, romantic imagery! The more she tried to keep me away from "trash" the more i read them. Thus began the rebellion of my teenage years, with loud Rock music, shorter than short skirts, crazy psychedelic plastic ear-rings, studded boots and BOYS!
There was no looking back, as i found suitors in every nook and cranny and I loved the attention they gave me. From compliments to books to music...the secret stash kept growing every week as did my battle with my parents, who thought that i was well on my way to the path of ruin and disrepute. When i wrote in my secret diary my mom would be itching to know who it was about and when i began to get terrible headaches, my mom even thought that i was doing drugs. Many days of sulking, crying, raging battles and treats ensued. Many nights spent crying, and lamenting about how they did not "understand" me. Many Rod Stewart, Peter Gabriel, Madonna, Wham records later, i calmed down. I started a new school( a co-educational one at that) and I found the school boys could be so un-interesting. I made some amazing friends and managed to cram the best days of my life in the two years of Senior school that I spent there. I learnt to love studying again. My love affair with the English language flourished and I made a new best friend. My new friends made me love "Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy" and "PG Wodehouse". I wholeheartedly particiated in the childish school pranks or hard study lessons and emerged a winner. I remember the infectious gang of girls in my class. There was one who would study too much or the one who used to laugh the loudest, the one with serious style and the one with the nose pin....Two years flew by at the blink of an eye and we grew up, laughed and made many memories together. Our school farewell was the most poignant moment for me. Dressed in my mothers purple Kanjivaram Saree I lit the lamp that would light my paths in the years to come, The atmosphere was heavy, it was time to grow up, to take on responsibilities, to find the path of your dreams. Many roads would take us on many new paths, the comfort and security of school would be left behind. We made many promises to our Friends, wrote on each others year books and posed for an unending stream of photographs to freeze the moment for our lifetime. As i walked back home that night with my parents, looking over my shoulder I saw my lamp flickering in the distance. Maybe many new memories await me, many new experiences yet to unfold, many even-better times yet to come....but with tears welling in my eyes I bid a silent goodbye to the best years of my life...my wonder years
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Sprouting Wings
I held the sand in my fist with all of my strength. I could feel it trickle slowly past my fingers. I held on tighter...it slipped faster..till i sensed Time was playing its game with me. Its been 2 years and 10 months since i found my heart and today my eyes fill with tears and pride as i hover protectively watching it bloom from a bug to a brillaint and colourful butterfly.
My baby is ready for school. Tomorrow would be her first day at pre-school.
Its hard for me. Hard for me to let go. Hard for me to accept that she is no longer a baby. Hard for me to realise that she no longer clings to me like she used to.
Its a world of wonder for her to discover. A world filled with hope, excitement and possibilities. I want to be her guide along the paths she takes. I want to hold her hand and never let her fall, but i know that with every stumble, she would walk firmer, every bend in the road would reveal new discoveries and for every dry leaf she picks up there will be hundreds of leaves in the trees in a mosaic of greens.
I won't be there to wash her hands, help her with her food or tell her to wait her turn on the slide. I won't be there to wipe her tear when she cries or clap with gusto at her triumphs at school, but my heart will be beating a thousand beats for her from afar. I'll cherish each story, sooth each bruise and applaud each artwork that she gets home. I'll be the one standing at the sidelines with outstretched arms waiting for her. I'll be the one cheering the loudest at the races. I'll be the one with the one with the camera in front of the stage. I'll laud her efforts to stand on her own little feet and find her own heart song to sing.
Each baby step she takes, each new discovery she makes would make her an independent woman of tomorrow.
I can sense Time putting an arm around me drawing me in, urging me to believe in the things that i have taught her. I sigh, smile and think, my bug has grown and is ready to try out her brand new wings.
My baby is ready for school. Tomorrow would be her first day at pre-school.
Its hard for me. Hard for me to let go. Hard for me to accept that she is no longer a baby. Hard for me to realise that she no longer clings to me like she used to.
Its a world of wonder for her to discover. A world filled with hope, excitement and possibilities. I want to be her guide along the paths she takes. I want to hold her hand and never let her fall, but i know that with every stumble, she would walk firmer, every bend in the road would reveal new discoveries and for every dry leaf she picks up there will be hundreds of leaves in the trees in a mosaic of greens.
I won't be there to wash her hands, help her with her food or tell her to wait her turn on the slide. I won't be there to wipe her tear when she cries or clap with gusto at her triumphs at school, but my heart will be beating a thousand beats for her from afar. I'll cherish each story, sooth each bruise and applaud each artwork that she gets home. I'll be the one standing at the sidelines with outstretched arms waiting for her. I'll be the one cheering the loudest at the races. I'll be the one with the one with the camera in front of the stage. I'll laud her efforts to stand on her own little feet and find her own heart song to sing.
Each baby step she takes, each new discovery she makes would make her an independent woman of tomorrow.
I can sense Time putting an arm around me drawing me in, urging me to believe in the things that i have taught her. I sigh, smile and think, my bug has grown and is ready to try out her brand new wings.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Attitudes
I've always been a great believer that you can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar, but that adage as i am coming to terms with it, is an outdated one. Attitude rules. Being , rude, aggressive and bitchy is the norm rather than the exception these days.
Take for example the reality television show ON Air in India these days, BIGG BOSS, the Indian version of the BIG BROTHER, it rules the roost with its aggressive and crass behaviour and is generating many an eyeball and is the focus of many a lunch time conversations. Beeps outnumber the actual conversations and the devious, scheming, rude and aggressive contestants stay on in the house to well, continue using rude aggressive and devious methods against their fellow housemates. I sat through a couple of episodes riveted, unable to move and extremely curious about what would unfold next. I watched with voyeuristic pleasure when violence was bubbling among some of the contestants and smirked a sly smile when romance was in the offing..but I watched.
A similar situation is there in today's workplace. A place where egos are inflated and importance is often a misplaced notion. Colleagues would think nothing of pilfering other people's work and passing them off as their own. They would gloat about their ability to get away with it and be part of the dirty office political cesspool. I see a huge difference in the quality of talent we hire. Most people come through influential "recommendations" and have very little or nil talent to show for it. In the end its all about making yourself be seen and heard using any kind of means to do it.
Gone are the days when hard work and sincerity paid. A Good Morning, Hello and Thank You are of the dark ages. A smile or a helping hand or genuine humanity is hard to come by and instead back biting, plotting and underhand duplicity is on the rise. Many a days when i drive back home, i wonder what to teach my daughter. When push comes to shove, how will a smile or a thank you or sincerity help her along? How can she remain immune in an violent world where school kids don't think twice about pulling the trigger and success is measured by the "connections" your father has.
I am pulled between wanting to do the right thing and not lose my soul and yet wanting to taste success too. But I still want to be able to sleep at night knowing that my smile may have lifted the spirits of someone like me and spread some niceness in an otherwise aggressive world
Take for example the reality television show ON Air in India these days, BIGG BOSS, the Indian version of the BIG BROTHER, it rules the roost with its aggressive and crass behaviour and is generating many an eyeball and is the focus of many a lunch time conversations. Beeps outnumber the actual conversations and the devious, scheming, rude and aggressive contestants stay on in the house to well, continue using rude aggressive and devious methods against their fellow housemates. I sat through a couple of episodes riveted, unable to move and extremely curious about what would unfold next. I watched with voyeuristic pleasure when violence was bubbling among some of the contestants and smirked a sly smile when romance was in the offing..but I watched.
A similar situation is there in today's workplace. A place where egos are inflated and importance is often a misplaced notion. Colleagues would think nothing of pilfering other people's work and passing them off as their own. They would gloat about their ability to get away with it and be part of the dirty office political cesspool. I see a huge difference in the quality of talent we hire. Most people come through influential "recommendations" and have very little or nil talent to show for it. In the end its all about making yourself be seen and heard using any kind of means to do it.
Gone are the days when hard work and sincerity paid. A Good Morning, Hello and Thank You are of the dark ages. A smile or a helping hand or genuine humanity is hard to come by and instead back biting, plotting and underhand duplicity is on the rise. Many a days when i drive back home, i wonder what to teach my daughter. When push comes to shove, how will a smile or a thank you or sincerity help her along? How can she remain immune in an violent world where school kids don't think twice about pulling the trigger and success is measured by the "connections" your father has.
I am pulled between wanting to do the right thing and not lose my soul and yet wanting to taste success too. But I still want to be able to sleep at night knowing that my smile may have lifted the spirits of someone like me and spread some niceness in an otherwise aggressive world
Preparations
Now, the one thing that's been taking precedence in my life the past 3 years has been Tia. She's all i can think of 24x7, which is a good thing in a way, but when the opportunity to attend a family wedding presented itself to me, i jumped into it wholeheartedly. It was my mission for the month to get organised, get all dolled up and buy clothes and gifts for Tia, mom and the bride to be. I became a local at the swanky Saree shops in South Ex and was buying clothes and shoes in every hue and shade. I scoured the markets for traditional wear for Tia and eventually decided to get it tailor made for her instead. I bought matching lace for her outfits, matching tights to wear underneath, and matching hair accessories. The local boutique tailoring our clothes probably whooped a secret hooray each time it saw me walk in through the doors carrying armloads of new clothes to be made. I got my blouses altered to fit me(because i can no longer fit into the blouses made 8 years ago), and then i went all out getting my jewels out and buying more stuff to match the newer outfits.
After all this came the turn to buy gifts for the bride-to-be. I wanted to give her a dream gift and wanted to personalise the items bought. Each day after work I would painstakingly shop matching/coordinating items for her. Somedays I would buy a bag or some accessories to compliment a new bride. I'm currently running out of things to do and to be more honest, money to spend. My excitement about the preparations has made this trip seem larger than life. I know I'll get withdrawal pangs when the wedding is over, I know I'll miss the shopping after the last of the gifts has been handed over and the last outfit worn. I know that the journey will hold its own special place in my heart and as i count down each day to my trip to the homeland...I know that this will be a very special trip indeed...one in which all of my loved ones will celebrate the togetherness of the big chaotic dysfunctional but immensely caring family that is all mine
After all this came the turn to buy gifts for the bride-to-be. I wanted to give her a dream gift and wanted to personalise the items bought. Each day after work I would painstakingly shop matching/coordinating items for her. Somedays I would buy a bag or some accessories to compliment a new bride. I'm currently running out of things to do and to be more honest, money to spend. My excitement about the preparations has made this trip seem larger than life. I know I'll get withdrawal pangs when the wedding is over, I know I'll miss the shopping after the last of the gifts has been handed over and the last outfit worn. I know that the journey will hold its own special place in my heart and as i count down each day to my trip to the homeland...I know that this will be a very special trip indeed...one in which all of my loved ones will celebrate the togetherness of the big chaotic dysfunctional but immensely caring family that is all mine
Monday, October 20, 2008
Colours
Now if anyone asked me my favourite colour, I would probably laugh out loud. How can I have a favourite colour? How can I describe the depths of the blue I love or the ripples on the scarlet that catch the light? How is it that blue and green look so hot together? Why do magenta and orange compliment each other?
I don't know.....it is a thing I feel. I can sense the colour that would work on a certain design, I can visualise it in my head, seeing it in the tones and hues I imagine it to be. The range of color is vast and varied, full of tones, subtleties, saturations, variation and nuances. There is a color for every kind of dreamer, for every kind of situation.
Colour varies with seasons, with time, with moods, with experiences ...with the world. Its an innate abstract notion of a finite hue. It could be an ochre sky, a chrome sunflower, a zesty lemon or a rich creamy yellow. It could have the shine of a peacock feather, the brilliance of azure or the jar of cobalt blue. It could have the lushness of a rainforest, the strength of the trees, the freshness of dew drops on the immature grass and yet it would be called green.
How can one describe the sparkle of an emerald or the blue of the boundless sky?
Why is it that white is considered bridal in the West but inauspicious in the East. Why is purple the royal colour and why does brown lack so much character? I don't know, but I know that I can feel colour within my self. I can weigh it, I can touch it, I know whether its coarse or smooth, hot or cold. I know in my heart if it would work in an artwork. As for my favourite colour...its as varied as the seasons, as brilliant as the spectrum and as mundane as all the colours put together.
something to write about
Its been a really really long time since I wrote. Mostly I just did not have the time and when I did, then I could'nt think of something intelligent to write about. Its interesting to read other people's blogs. Everyone seems to be doing so many things at once. Their days are packed and they have so many experiences to write about. Me on the other hand lead a pretty mundane routine. I wake up, brush my teeth, shower and go to work. At work I try meeting deadlines, I try to get my creative calling to come through and try to be as focused as I can possibly be. Then I head back home , where I am welcomed by the toothy grin of my 17 month old baby, who is such a bundle of joy and energy that her smile and her ways just lift me up. She's a mommy's girl through and through and through and to be honest I really like it. I love the ma-ma chants, I love the tiny fingers that clasp mine, I love the way she wants to snuggle with me at night and wants to see my face first thing in the morning. In the middle of the night, i love to breathe in her baby scent, I love feeling her warm soft fingers in my palm and I can spend hours gazing at her serene face. Is this what people write about? Is this the bone crushing love that I feel called being a mom. I don't know. I don't know if what I am doing is right or wrong. I dont know if my actions today will make her a better person in her future, but i hope that the time i spend with her, warms her heart and keeps the warmth glowing for the rest of the years.
My life pretty much centers around my daughter. In fact my husband accuses me of being obsessed with her sometimes. I dont think i am a person who can balance things quite so easily. I am a pretty volatile girl and I love extremes. I can eat till I burst, go on an all out shopping binge and love and hate with equal intensity. I love to dream and dream some more. I can dream entire sequences and events in my head in pure visual relief. Its this power of visualisation that is what helps me be a better artist and yet stops me just short of being delusional.
Strange that I was wondering a while ago about what to write about!!! I took a deep breath, shifted myself to a more comfortable position and began to think again......My mind is wandering now...its travelling, I can smell the ocean breeze, feel the crunchy salty air in my mouth.....I so crave a relaxing vacation, I so want to just close my eyes and breathe....
My life pretty much centers around my daughter. In fact my husband accuses me of being obsessed with her sometimes. I dont think i am a person who can balance things quite so easily. I am a pretty volatile girl and I love extremes. I can eat till I burst, go on an all out shopping binge and love and hate with equal intensity. I love to dream and dream some more. I can dream entire sequences and events in my head in pure visual relief. Its this power of visualisation that is what helps me be a better artist and yet stops me just short of being delusional.
Strange that I was wondering a while ago about what to write about!!! I took a deep breath, shifted myself to a more comfortable position and began to think again......My mind is wandering now...its travelling, I can smell the ocean breeze, feel the crunchy salty air in my mouth.....I so crave a relaxing vacation, I so want to just close my eyes and breathe....
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)