The dying art of conversation... huh?

This is what many are 'talking about' - the death of conversation.  In a world that is increasingly turning to texting, tweeting and chatting online.  Well connected, but in silence. Who would have thought it possible?  People talking without speaking, People hearing without listening. 

(source www:dailypeoplecartoon.com)

At home, time and again, we have stopped the elder one in her conversation, to tell her to get to the point, and to skip the details (sorry S!) . She is a great one for that.  Thankfully it has not stopped her, ever.  But now, if we are to go by the words of the  renowned psychologist and professor at MIT - Sherry Turkle - it is important to listen to each other, even if it is in the most boring bits  because it is often in unedited moments, that we reveal ourselves to one another.

Professor Turkle says students have mastered the art of eye contact while they are busy texting! Nothing new.  How many times have our children ( I am without doubt speaking for all parents) nodded their heads at appropriate moments, blinked, changed facial expressions to give you the impression that they are hanging on to every word  said, while their fingers dexterously typed out long messages.  To think that we spent hours trying to get them to hold a pencil and learn to write!  This particular fine skill of texting came naturally to them!

Turkle has also coined a new term - the Goldilocks effect - not too close, not too far, just right , keeping in touch with so many people yet to keep them at bay - at a distance they can control - .  For most youngsters, human relationships are messy,and they move from conversation to connection.  And over a period of time stop caring.  They forget the art of conversation, and skills associated with it.  Of being patient and empathising. Always in the company of 'friends' - if we cannot be alone even for a while it will only make us more lonely.  And that is a scary thought.


I guess it is due to the numbers in India, our world has not fallen silent.  And we are a nation of noisy people.  But surprisingly, when I took a journey by train some time ago it was so different.  I remember how much fun it used to be earlier. The noise, the hawkers, the conversations, sharing of meals.  But this time, I found it strangely silent.  Only the hum of the airconditioning.  Almost all were busy with their smart devices (I think I was the only one with an 'antique' piece). Playing games, on facebook, or tweeting. And being constantly warned not to accept food from strangers, we all settled down to the boring railway catered food and ate in silence.

Another time, I was awaiting my turn at the billing section of a hospital.  A lady barged in before me.  I thought I should protest, but she looked distraught.  She was hunched over the counter and I thought she must be having a tough time and after all it only meant a delay of a few minutes.  But it took longer and curiosity finally got the better of me and I peered over to see the cause of her despair.  But lo! I found her face inches away from her phone and she was playing a game.  I guess the pained expression shifted to my face.

It is nice to think most of those of my generation still pick up a phone or drop by to have a conversation.  Not just someone who 'likes' or 'pokes'.  And thank god once again for S and her incessant banter. 

It's Not Important to Touch Your Toes

(Pic - cartoonstock.com)

All these years I have pushed myself to touch my toes.  Till a fortnight ago.  I was lying down on my new green yoga mat.  I always feel it is necessary to have these little pretty accessories that serve as an impetus to get going on an exercise routine . Well anyway, to get back to the supine position on the yoga mat...  I got up and bent forward to touch my toes.  And I found that my hand did not proceed beyond my calves.  I mean I could touch the toes the day before. So what was wrong today? As I was trying to push myself to make the phalanges meet, I realised it was absolutely unnecessary. Why pull a hamstring on a day the body does not want to make the extra effort?  And after that believe me, exercising is a lot more fun.  And no stress.  And just being consistent with the routine is the secret of a successful workout.

So remember, It's not Important to Touch your Toes...unless of course you are a fitness trainer.

I have even gone as far as to think this would make a good title for a book.  And I am sure it will atleast attract a few eyeballs at a store. But for someone who has not been too regular posting here, I know  the book will never see the light of day.  But that has not stopped me from thinking about the sequels.  For instance..

It is not important to be size zero ( unless you are Kareena Kapoor)

It is not important to be a perfect wife ( it will only make your husband lazy)

It is not important to be a perfect mother ( your kids will be brats anyway and yet grow up fine)

And so on... It could be a hit.. remember the Dummies series?

Ponder over it.. perfection is fine, but is really necessary if the end result can be achieved without the strain?

What do you think?

Of books and thoughts...

I am not one of those who follows the political scene very closely.  Domestic or international.  Not that I am totally ignorant either.  I usually skim through political commentaries and get by with the headlines and news reports and occasionally the odd programme on the television.

But it is slowly changing.  I realise we have a lot to be thankful for.  Despite the scams, the corruption, and our politicians.

The book that first brought this change in my thinking and perception was The Kite Runner  by Khaled Hosseni .  I remember my brother was excited when he heard the news on the radio about the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan. This was so long ago in 1979.  He did try to explain what it meant to the rest of the world, but it was lost on me.This book, now, brought back those moments.  The story itself is very moving, and though the characters hold center-stage, the disruption of what was once a peaceful life in Kabul stands out.  His description of the country does not match the scenes we now see on TV.  I can only think of the dusty roads, the bombed buildings, the tanks, the guns, soldiers, masked men .. like a ghost town.  Could Afghanistan have really been the peaceful, beautiful place that Hosseni describes in the early chapters of his book?

Coincidentally the next book I picked up was Benazir Bhutto's autobiography - Daughter of the East. I had no real intention of reading the book. It was more than 400 pages and the print was tiny.  And the Bhutto family did not hold interest. However, the first few pages were enough to ensure that I read the book from cover to cover.  While the account would definitely be biased.. I mean which autobiography wouldn't? I found myself totally immersed in the book.  It is evident that she had enjoyed a good life till her father was imprisoned.  He was her hero.  She dwells upon the achievements in his reign. And how all that changes after the military coup.  The family could have fled and lived a comfortable life in exile. But I guess once you have a taste of power it can be difficult to live without it. That she endured innumerable detentions and remained sane is admirable.  Here again there is mention of Afghanistan and the role of the US in arming the Afghan guerillas to fight the Soviets, and then abandoning the region altogether when they retreated.  And the subsequent rise of terrorism in the area.   However one sided the writing may be, there is no doubt that Ms Bhutto was indeed a great storyteller just as much as her famed oratorical skills.  We never will know whether another term of her as the Prime Minister would have brought development and peace once again to a strife-torn country.  Or would it have been a continuation of the military regime in a new garb?

These two books have made me aware of our neighbouring countries. Of  petty politics of the super powers.  Of senseless wars that are being fought.  Of the children in the Palestine, Syria, Iraq..  How long will they live with the sound of gun shots and bombs ringing in their ears?

In Rewind Mode

The day the music died….(To those from my time, it would be a song by Don McLean and for the younger generation maybe the lines would still be a familiar Madonna song)  

But that is how we felt for a long time after WorldSpace closed their operations in India.  It used to be a routine.  Early morning devotional music – Carnatic and Hindustani that slowly progressed to a faster beat for the exercise hour and then to Farishta for old Hindi songs. The day went by. 

And then there was no music at all.  We put away the satellite receiver.  Our 15 year old Sony music system was in a bad shape.  From disuse. For a while we managed with the music channels on TV and we were only listening to the latest Bollywood music.  An occasional good song, but constant Sheila and Munni can get so tiring.  V thought we had enough of it all and lugged the music system to the service center.  

It came back a fortnight ago with the FM radio, CD and audio-casette player in working condition. We found ourselves removing the carton that had not seen the light of day for almost three years. A box filled with memories.  Of age old audio-cassettes!! The thought of donating the tapes had occurred to me , but I had found no takers.  All had moved on to newer technology. The younger one asked me to check on Amazon.  You might just get lucky, she said.  Some ancient articles can bring in good money. But no such luck.  Everyone seemed to think they just had to be junked.  And so the carton remained.  Thank god for that!

After spending a whole day sorting them out, we have boxes (and more boxes) of songs - in all languages - English, Hindi, Tamil, Telugu.  Classical music - western and Indian. Vocal and instrumental. And the tapes in good condition too.  With music to last a life time.

What was even better was the discovery of the tapes of my children reciting nursery rhymes, slokas and a whole lot of baby talk that their grandfather had recorded.  

And yet another surprise.  We had met MS Subbalakshmi when she was no longer giving public performances. No mobile phone cameras, no digital cameras to capture the moment.  But for this ...

And now I get up to the sound of music...and a cup of tea (yes, I am not the first one to awaken) . What could be better than that?

The Rise and Fall.....

I wonder what he would be thinking, if he were to look around and see the statues that were up one day and down the next.

What got me thinking about statues was the recent news item about a man being arrested in the UK for ‘illegally’ bringing the ‘butt’ of the statue of Sadam Hussein from Iraq.   This was a 2ft bronze lump that he saved from being melted down after it was toppled by the US marines in 2003. He brought it back with him and now Iraq wants it returned. They claim it is their cultural history (??).   

But(t) it raised several questions in my mind.  About the statues of the past and those of the present.  I am sure the sculptors of yore put in a lot of thought and worked to make it a piece of art.  They chose subjects that were worthy of their skill.  Mythological figures, of kings and queens and of great leaders.

The living had no thoughts of transfering their image in stone or metal. That was unheard of.  Did Madam Tussauds wax models of living celebrities bring about the change?  Anyway I knew Sadam had one only after it was brought down.  And of course, recently in the news for all the wrong reasons, are that of Mayawati.

While I grew up, apart from the statues that were left behind by the British (as they took away priceless pieces of art) , we had the occasional statue of Mahatma Gandhi or Sardar Patel.  It was after Jawaharlal Nehru passed away that some of his statues came up. But these were few.  It is only lately, with petty politicians aplenty that statues are put up with public money of those who have made little or no contribution to society.

Statues to me are a cause of ire.  We have one right at the beginning of the lane. Of that of Rajiv Gandhi.  It served as a landmark while giving directions to the house.  All that changed once Congress came back to power.  At every occasion a dias is put up overnight, the ‘leaders’ congregate, flower garlanding ceremonies are planned for the busiest part of the morning leaving all office-goers stranded.  And for us, we are stuck in our lane with no way out,.  All I do is fret and fume.  Thoughts of toppling it down have also entered my mind. 

And it is therefore no surprise that statues are the targets of mob fury and political vengeance.  Who can forget the destruction of the statues of The Buddha by the Taliban?  Well, anyway the BJP, SP,  have said that if they come back to power in UP, they would auction the statues of Mayawati.

It appears that statues are no longer meant for posterity.  They are to be toppled, destroyed, covered or even auctioned!

 But I would think, all it takes is a pigeon.  And as the fictional character David Brent of the BBC mockumentary ‘Office’ said You just have to accept that some days you are the pigeon, and some days you are the statue.  

 And Mayawati and others like her would well do to remember that !

Be Indian, Buy Indian - Abroad

We came back from our trip to the UK with two shopping bags.  My daughter insisted I take them.  She said it would be useful since there was a ban on plastic in the city.  It was priced at 2 pounds each.  They are neat.  They  hold large quantities.  Easy to carry since the handles are designed so that they do not hurt the palm.  After repeated use, feeling pleased with the purchase and thinking it was worth the money, I examined the bag to find this tiny tag stating – ethically made in India. 

Take a look at this fragrance warmer my brother got me from the US.   It looks beautiful, the work, as in the case of the jute bag, was neat – no jagged edges.  I said aloud, such a beautiful piece, why can’t it be made here.  And there it was, hidden away a small etching.. made in India !

While I am glad our goods are finding their way abroad, I wonder why  inferior goods and export rejects finding their way into our stores?  Why cannot we be more quality conscious and push our manufacturers to give us the same goods that they export?

Better quality basmati rice, jute and leather bags, good quality handlooms and handicrafts, superior apparel, better alphonso mangoes, specialty tea  -  all find their way out of India.  We pay probably the same price for goods of lesser quality. 

It is not as if the higher priced goods do not find a market here.  One visit to the supermarket and you have shelves with  poor quality Kashmiri Apples, shrivelled Nagpur Oranges competing with expensive Australian Kiwi , California grapes,  Thai Rambutan and Chinese apples all ridiculously priced.  And there are buyers for them too.  It seems as if the display of poor quality Indian fruits with the better looking imported goods is intentional.

 ‘Yeh export quality hai’ is what the sales guy will tell you when he wants to push a product and  wants to justify the price he has quoted.  Export quality – that is to say only the best can be exported.  The rest is for use at home.  Are we not discerning enough or are we satisfied with sub-standard goods? When the best products from abroad find buyers here, why is it that the best made in our country is not available to the same buyer? 

Do we need to shop abroad to bring our own ’quality’ goods back home? 

Run with your mind!

                                                *
I read an article where the author, Prakash Iyer, narrates an interesting story told to him by a retired Brigadier.

The Brigadier was an engineer who had joined the army.  Unlike his peers, he was one of the few not from the National Defence Academy, and therefore did not have the usual physical training they were used to.  One of his first tests of endurance was to run a distance of ten miles. While the rest were doing it with relative ease, he was struggling and after a while he was close to giving up, when he heard his Commanding Officer shout out - Come on , young man, up till now you have been running with your legs.  Now run with your mind!  The words didn't just work that one time, it remained with him for the rest of his life.

The article appeared in a Career magazine. To stress the point that success in life is not just by talent and physical ability.  Now, why do I need to read one of those?  Maybe I don't, not at this stage, where I have no career change to make.  But I still like to browse through them. They are quite inspiring.  And I believe if something works well at the office, it will work at home too.

While the article was meant to inspire the young to seek bigger avenues in life and not give up in their struggle, I have decided to apply it to my now present obsession of getting my weight back on track. Over the last 30 years, I have gained over 10 kgs.  So many factors, marriage, children, middle age, and a growing sweet tooth.  But the last three kgs beyond the 10 kilos had me on full alert.

My younger one, who normally would have been sprawled on the sofa in the living room was energetic when home  on a short holiday.  It had to with the kick-boxing classes that she was attending. And she took me under her control.  I will teach you some warm-up exercises, she said. As far as I was concerned 'warm- up' meant something one does to 'warm-up' right? Some up and down neck movements, some shoulder and arm exercises.  I was all ready to start.

Like everything else, the word had taken a new meaning.  There was some running, some kicking, stretches, toe-touches, crunches..... and all for a fixed time duration that seemed to stretch to eternity.  It helped, the diwali sweets did not push the needle of the weighing scale to the right anymore. It was static.  That was some achievement.

I am still at it... increasing the number slowly and after I read the article I push myself to do those extra few crunches.  And the needle on the scale is slowly tilting to the left!

.. it helps to run with your mind.

*(image source - Profimedia.com)

Reality cooking and cooking reality

I am hooked to reality cooking shows.  Or any food show for that matter. Vigorous stirring, basting, a swirl, a toss and that touch of beautiful garnish.  The fancy kitchen equipment, blenders, sauces with even fancier names.

Anyway, work can throw some strange surprises. And here I was helping organise a cooking contest for a publication. Not like the reality shows that we see on TV where you hear the chef scream ' the clock is ticking away... nine, eight, seven. ...' So exciting, so much pressure. But this was different. Cooking had to be completed at home. The evaluation at the venue, by a chef.

I offered to help with the registration of participants. I thought it couldn't be difficult.  I did not foresee the amount of time or the energy required.. and it has indeed been an experience.  For one, we had to deal with  women who called, messaged and mailed constantly. 

Each call was different.  There were some wonderful ladies.  They wasted no time. Asked for relevant information and were brief and to the point.  There were others who just wanted to prolong the conversation.  It seemed they wanted someone to talk to, and it did not matter if you were a willing listener or not. A lady recited a poem.  Another wrote a long mail and said she was a woman of many talents.  Could she also sing at the contest after presenting her dish?

We even had a male who called and argued that it was unfair that only women could participate.  Don't you think men make better cooks?  I am sure they do.  Especially when they venture into the kitchen to make an exotic dish occasionally. 

There were students, housewives, working women, retired professionals and very senior citizens. And for them it was not just an ordinary cooking contest. Believe me it is a competitive world out there. I began to understand the term  'insider information'. The conversation would go on fine, and suddenly a change in tone, lowering of voice... and then the question.. how many had registered? Which category has the least number? Which dish won the prize at the last week's contest? What stands a better chance? Do you think I should make this particular dish and so on... It was not easy handling this type.  Now, I can also fathom the pressures on those in the stock market or sporting world.  Some kind of dish-fixing this?

The enthusiasm of the women just put me to shame. If only it were contagious! I can twist an old phrase - you can lead a woman to the kitchen, but to can't always make her cook.  And in my case that's reality.. 

Not So Long Ago....

It did not seem so long ago... when we stood under the giant tree at the college. Giggling and gossiping.  Especially since we were doing it again..thirty years later..

A friend in the US mailed to say she was visiting town. Could we all meet?  And we did.  One came in from Bangalore, another from Kolkata.  Then there were calls to all those who were in town.  And a hectic itinerary was planned for three days in a row.  And on one of those days we were back again where it all began.

Our teachers had retired. And instead we found a few of our classmates and seniors occupying the staff rooms that we would so hesitantly enter as a student. This time we walked in with a new found confidence, ignoring the poor attender who tried his best to find out if we had a prior appointment.  We barged into classrooms and labs.  And none seemed to mind.  I guess our happiness was infectious.  Soon, there were more smiles.  Students offered to take our pictures as we posed in familiar nooks.  A friend even danced in the auditorium oblivious to the amused looks.

It reminded me of the old Carpenters song... Yesterday once more.. those were such happy times and not so long ago, and we wondered where they'd gone, but they're back again....

From college, we trooped into homes and met the mothers who had welcomed us way back.  They did so once again.  So obviously delighted to see us.

It seemed as if we had wound back the clock.   A friend got a call from her son who wanted to know if she had forgotten he existed!! That reminded the rest of us to get back to the present.  We all parted  with the promise that we would meet again.  Soon.

Going back in time, I think erased a few wrinkles too.  That could be my imagination... but nothing could have been more rejuvenating! 

Skirting the issue...

A school in Ipswich, UK has banned skirts for girls.  They now have to wear trousers.   

It clearly has been a war on short hemlines. Teachers were found with tape measures to check the length of the skirt. Recalcitrant students were often sent home, some were required to change into a school owned skirt, others were made to unhitch the skirt to roll down the hems.  Some even suspended. 

It is a matter of discussion of course whether strict uniform rules in educational institutions  improve the standard of education.  It may not, though teachers may have more time to concentrate on their subjects ( pun intended) rather than monitor the hemline.

I guess we grew up in a world without television.  And fashion fortunately did not play an important role in the growing years of our lives .  Our parents knew children grew fast.  And our school uniforms had to last for two academic years.  We were no exception.  The first day of school had all of us in uniforms that extended at least 3 inches below the knees.  And with long john socks one could barely see  skin!  Well into the second year, the hemline would show a decrease. It then led to opening  of hems to increase the length to what was thought decent enough.   The discolouration of the exposed cloth to the concealed hem  was obvious, but no one cared.  

In my class, one of the girls started a movement by wearing the belt at the hip.  And it caught on.  I have no idea what it did to our appearance, but sure enough, I joined the gang. The low waist movement of our times?  Anyway, our teachers turned a blind eye.

My  elder one went to a popular girls college run by nuns. They  found girls just out of schools, having got  rid of the school uniform, rather unmanageable. They came dressed like Britney Spears. Not all, but a few were enough to raise their hackles. The shalwar kameez rule was enforced   It was amusing to find a senior, fierce looking Sister standing at the gate, giving students a look over as they walked in.  We would find girls hurriedly donning a jacket over their sleeveless kurtas before they turned into the lane leading to the college.  Obviously the jacket would be off as soon as they left in the evening.

But there are others who seek  attention.  For instance, the Badminton World Federation wanted to ban shorts and introduce skirts for women players.  A  feeble attempt to glamorise the sport.  The idea was dropped almost as soon as it surfaced.  Some felt, if the men wanted to watch girls in skirts they would go elsewhere and not to a game of badminton.

 Probably a Maria Sharapova or Anna Kournikova in any sport can add glamour.  What tennis players wear or what they do not are hotly discussed.   And they make the most of it.  They don designer apparel with trendy jewellery.  Even with the dress code at Wimbledon, they  still make their  fashion statement. Perhaps, the reason why officials at Wimbledon have also wanted to look their best.  The  ball girls, linesmen, umpires have their outfits designed by Ralph Lauren their official outfitter since 2006. 

While less clothing can cause a controversy, you would think it makes sense to wear more? But in some countries apparently not.  Take the case of the purdah.  There is a ban on that too.......And  the debate continues ....  

Cartoon source 

Not Just the Fine Print.....

It is not just the fine print I am having a problem with.  The big and the bold, is what I am unable to comprehend. 

We have a Tata Sky connection.  Remember the milkman ad with Aamir Khan?  Where he says the cow does not know the consumer has gone on a vacation.  So you pay for the milk even on the days you are not in town.  And then of course, the ad ends with the promise that Tata Sky gives you a subscription holiday .  You pay only for the days you use.  

The ad was telecast so many times.  It stuck in my mind and when I was indeed going on a vacation, I called up  customer service.  The guy  listened patiently and asked me the days I would be away.  He repeated the dates for me.  He had got it right.  I wanted to be extra sure. I asked him to reconfirm the dates the connection would be temporarily disconnected. He tells me the dates.  ‘But that is only 10 days, and I am going for three weeks’!.  He gave me an explanation.  I really did not understand. Neither did I have the time.

Oh well, I should have known, I must have been too busy watching Aamir Khan.  I must have missed something.  I just let it pass.  Till yesterday.  While I was back talking to customer service again. 

I had received an alert.  The annoying yellow envelope that pops up on the TV screen.  Subscription due.  But it also said – Receive a Rs 15/- bonus when you recharge on time.  Anyway, I thought why leave it to the last day, I might just forget, and so I got online and recharged the account. And immediately receive an SMS.  Account recharged. NO BONUS. 

The Rs 15/- was hardly an issue.  But the caps stating NO BONUS, was rankling.

It was night, and so I shot off a mail.  The call came early the next day.  Ma’am – you renewed last month on the 28^th of June at 9.25 pm.  This month you renewed again on the 28^th at 8.50 pm.  So I said, ‘Yes, 3 days before the due date!  Why no Bonus? 

It appears that the Bonus is applicable only once in 30 days and I had recharged half hour too early!! 

That was just too much for me to digest.  I must have sounded exasperated.  The girl on the line asked me to hold on so that she could speak to her superior.  She came back and said that the bonus would be credited to the account.

My daughter, to whom I narrated the story, said Good Show, Ma!   After all she has never ever seen me bargaining at the market. I  always end up paying more than the others, and here I was leaving no stone unturned to get that silly Bonus!                                                                                                                 

I reckon if big companies with celebrity endorsements want me to part with my money, they will have to work a little harder.  After all  *Conditions Apply.  

The Indian Politician

I am upset with the Indian politician.  

The recent defiance of the politician with regard to their portfolios has made me very upset.  What is their definition of a coveted post?  Is it the power one can wield or the money that can be amassed?  Is development not given a thought?

The attitude of two disgruntled ministers is disgraceful.  One can see an opportunity to do so much good in the portfolio as the Minister for Drinking Water and Sanitation.  And what about Science and Technology?   And yet we have the ministers who were given this responsibility seen openly sulking.  It is clear they do not have public service on their agenda.

  I should think they are probably incompetent too to head these departments.  We require qualified and committed individuals. 

I remember the movie Nayak, where an ordinary citizen is given the charge of being the Chief Minister for a day. If only it were true.  If I was given charge, among other things, I would ensure that the water connection  to all ministers' homes be disconnected, at least  for a day.  

It is time, we really gave our elected leaders something real to sulk about.

Would they then wake up?  Empathise with the thousands who have no access to drinking water, who have to trudge miles for a bucket of water, who live in unsanitary conditions. Would they understand the magnitude of the problem when faced with a similar situation?

Hard to tell.. but worth giving a try.

image used

Back Again..

It's been a while since the last post. But then, I was on a holiday....

 It was almost a five year plan.  The visit to the UK to see the elder one and S-I-L.

The visa application had been downloaded so many times in the past.  Filled in too.  And just kept aside. I think the elder one did not take us seriously this year either.  Especially when we had not submitted the papers and hardly a month left before our scheduled date of departure.  She threatened to cancel her leave.

And when it finally did happen, it was one major rush.  The passport with the visa arrived a week prior. The scramble for tickets. The volcanic ash almost playing spoilsport. The on and off  airline strike.  And then, suddenly, it happened. The whole family together after a very long time.

 We were given a day to rest and then we were off to the countryside.  Initially the camera had not a moment of rest.  Until it appeared that every scene had to be captured.  But how many?

A trip to Lake District, and we realise how Wordsworth, who lived here, might have been inspired. The poetry could have been spontaneous. But while he did pen down his words, I was only left speechless. The scenery  so breathtaking.

While we were sad it ended, we were also glad to get back to the routine, however mundane it might be.  I guess that is what keeps one going.

Groan, groan, another boring day...... another menu to think of ...getting ready to work.... until the next holiday.

When the mind is blank...

When the mind is blank and the screen is white, you can be sure there is no inspiration. 

I have had these warning signs.  A delayed image on the screen, a flash of white, and so on.  I even took it to the service centre.  They warned me of  impending doom.  But nothing beyond their control.  And it would only cost me 19K.  I turned white too. 

And now, stolen moments on someone else's system is what I have.  And just doesn't feel the same.  What I also miss are the websites I had bookmarked. 

And till I find a permanent solution, it will be a short break from blogging and blog hopping. 

Bow Wow Yoga

Bow Wow Yoga is a book ( and no, I have not read it) – by Gerry Olin Greengrass – who watched her dog stretch his paws and raise its behind effortlessly. Yoga was what came to her mind. And she has in this book ( according to the review on Amazon.com) given a hilarious account of what she has termed Canine Yoga with illustrations.

In contrast, my niece A posted this picture on fb– of herself doing the Surya Namaskaram under the watchful eyes of her canine gurus

I loved it. ( Picture taken by P )

Baby Talk

The recent Kerala election campaign led to some sniping between Rahul Gandhi and the Kerala Chief Minister Achutanandan. Rahul Gandhi indirectly indicated that the CM was an old man . The CM in turn called him an Amul Baby. Shashi Tharoor, ever ready to tweet said there was nothing insulting in the CM's remark and Amul Babies are healthy and focussed.


The Kerala CM has moved on with times. He probably would have been more familiar with the Murphy Radio baby. A cute healthy baby, with his finger on the lower lip. Their baby calendars were always in big demand. And generally found a place in the room of an expectant mother.

Babies, like Rahul Gandhi, nowadays are a pampered lot. And corporates have realised that parents love to indulge in their new bundle of joy. Exclusive stores for infants have surfaced. Kiddy things are no longer confined to a small corner of a departmental store.

Things have obviously changed. Earlier buying anything new for the baby was unheard of. And considered inauspicious. Grandmothers were quick to get into action mode as soon as they were informed about the pending arrival of the baby. Well worn sarees and dhotis were acquired from close relatives and friends, cut into squares and rectangles and painstakingly hand stitched to form blankets, frocks and jablas for the baby. They were the only things considered suitable for the soft and sensitive skin of the newborn.

Walking in to buy a gift for a young child I was amazed to see what was being stocked in these stores. Special baby furniture, baby toys, baby clothing, fancy prams, car seats, baby feeding spoons…. So many choices. And tiny clothes that are at least three times more expensive than adult clothing.

New borns and their mothers are now smartly dressed. And ready for visitors. The old sarees are of no use. And grandparents have turned hip. And have no time to make handmade baby clothes. Most times they are flying to different continents to take care of their young wards. And old jeans definitely would not make soft baby clothing.

I have digressed from the not so friendly banter of the Kerala CM and Rahul Gandhi. But it is a matter of Old vs New. We will know shortly which will triumph in this case.

In the meanwhile Amul cashed in on the moment with this ad..

Picture source - http://www.cuttingchai.com/ and http://www.ibnlive.com/

Chai and Biscuit

The thought of biscuits takes me back many years when we had a lovely biscuit factory - JB Mangharam & Sons. I say lovely, because I can still remember the wonderful aroma that used to waft from their factory as we went past the area where they were located. Even as far as a kilometer away!

The lane outside the J B Mangharam factory had these carts that used to sell huge packets of broken biscuits. Like the export rejects of the present day. There would be wafers, cream biscuits, ordinary tea biscuits in all sizes and shapes. For a princely sum of five rupees. These would be brought home and stored in two 5 kg tins of Sway detergent powder!!

Sway used to be the detergent of our times. They were probably the first company that introduced the detergent powder. They sold it in packs that were placed in these big light blue tins. After which the tins would be scoured and sun dried and ultimately found a pride of place in every kitchen. Most kitchens would have rows and rows of these tins in which pulses and eatables were stored and as in our house the JB Mangharam biscuit bits.

The variety of biscuits or cookies available these days are mind boggling. There are many who will proclaim that the most boring biscuit of them all is the Marie biscuit. But invariably when you go visiting friends,unannounced, you will be given a cup of tea with the Marie biscuit. Some have even rechristened it as Mary Biscuit.

Hard to think of the good old Marie biscuit as a food of the royals or upper class. In fact it is thought that the large size was intentional . Ever noticed that it cannot be dunked into the tea even in a fairly large mug until after the first bite. It would have been highly 'improper'for a royal to indulge in dunking!

The biscuit was named after the Grand Duchess Maria, or Marie,daughter of Czar Alexander II of Russia, who was supposedly the Lady Diana of her time. She married Alfred , the second son of Queen Victoria. To commemorate the union, a bakery in Britan created the Marie biscuit.

Now with a Royal wedding coming up, Prince William has brought this otherwise considered boring biscuit into limelight, by choosing it to be a main ingredient of one of the cakes that is to be served.

It is the bland flavour of the biscuit that makes it specially suitable for sweet dishes. A friend made this rich dessert from Marie biscuit the other day. She made a liqueor of coffee. Dunked the biscuit in it. A layer of that on a shallow dish. A coating of marmalade. And over it the chocolate sauce. Followed by nuts. And some whipped cream. This was repeated thrice. The leftover cream was slathered over the top. Decorated with more nuts and then frozen. And sliced and devoured.

A delicious alternative to dunking in tea. And Prince William would definitely concur.

PS: If you like dunking biscuits into your beverage, check out this site.

Note:

A google search indicates that JB Mangharam is now a subsidiary of Britannia Foods.

And Sway detergent vanished when they were outsmarted by Surf. Sway detergent increased their sales by giving a plastic bucket for every 3 packet tops. Sales soared, till Surf bought all the buckets that were manufactured. Sway could not keep up their offer of bucket exchange. Housewives changed their brand and the detergent company soon closed down. The Sway tins remained in many households like ours till they corroded.

Image courtesy: http://www.jollygrub.com/dwimages/dunk.jpg

Visiting the Daughter

I am on a short trip to visit my younger daughter in Delhi.  I never generally travel alone, but this is one of those few times.  She shares the apartment with two of her classmates from law school. 

I am reminded of the song - Sunrise, Sunset from the old musical - Fiddler on the Roof. 

When Tevye sings -

Is this the little girl I carried..?. 

and his wife Goldie joining him with ...
I don't remember growing older, When did they?

Yes, when did they?  It's true, she left home early and went five years away at college, but then she did manage to come home at least twice a month since we lived not too far away.  It is now close to two years that she has started work and this time far away from home.  The other two of her flatmates are as young and confident as her.

And they manage it all.  Despite working almost seven days a week, they manage to catch up with friends, throw in a small party, go out for a movie.   Where do they get their energy? 

It is a reversal of roles.  She is the caretaker.  And it  seems the time has come  for me to imbibe some of the qualities .  They were definitely not inherited.  

I will soon head back home.  And will continue to worry.  Which parent does not?  But in a way content that she has a good head on her shoulders.

Are you aggressive on the net?

In this article Freedland talks about being a different person on the net.  I can quite relate to that.  As someone who might not retaliate in person, I take up issues on the net.  Bad service, faulty product... and I am online making a complaint. I have found it quite effective. 

Freedland states that just as a car windscreen can make a person ruder than he would have been as a mere pedestrian, the computer screen also has some sort of a similar effect!  It brings out the darker side of the person!  He states -quote - For reasons not yet fully understood, the internet seems to have robbed many of embarrassment. Unquote.


Interesting.  Does it work the same way for you?  I think I should mentally put myself behind a screen when I have to take up issues next time. 

A Jumbo Project

A real Grand Trunk Road - an underpass built in Kenya so that the elephants get to safely cross over to the forest without either endangering their lives or that of the motorists.  Totally built with donor funds.

We have many jumbo projects in our city.  One underpass that is nearing completion after over three years....

They had to get the permission of the railways and that took time.  Makes you wonder why they ever started off without the permission.

And another one

which took seven years for completion..... all because half way through, they realised they did not know where to end the flyover!! 

Which really is the jumbo project?