Wednesday, December 23, 2009

Friday, October 30, 2009


Yesterday I chanced upon my slam book from college yet again. My numerous excursions to this part of my world have always been short lived, basically for want of time. It would invariably be to find the exact date of a friend’s birthday. In my constant race against time, I could not afford a storage card dysfunction in my brain so I best left it to my slam book to keep the information intact. But this time I decided not to make it yet another excursion.

I read what every single girl had jotted down for me. Word by word. My best friends, my gang, the three I shared my front desk with, the girls in the row behind us, the last benchers… they were all there. Alive, fresh, charming. Just the way they have always been.

I had been nice to everyone but never the top contender for the best PR person award. But still, every single person, even those classmates I hardly knew, had had only good words to write. Reading their words was truly humbling. It takes a big heart to be so pleasant. My lesson for the day.

It was beautiful to travel all the way back, 9½ years since we all left college and went our separate ways. I met some of them on and off, phone some still, heard about some from the some I met, thought about some whenever I came upon a familiar smell or similar scene. But yesterday, I saw them all. The scenes played out in detail: I listened to the classes again, answered attendance call, laughed at the proxy, took notes, borrowed pen, ate lunch, watched Jo break the writing desk, filled the burette, dissected frogs and earthworms and cockroaches. I saw us rehearse dance, hunt costumes, get on stage, go on a picnic, laugh till Jo cried… I also saw Vidhu’s lab accident, the blood, the girls screaming, the rush to the hospital.

I have decided to find them. As many as I can. Meanwhile, if you chance upon this entry my dear friends, do drop in a line. Miss you all.

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Madam, I’m not Adam

A couple of weeks ago I was sitting with the type-setter at the wedding card shop finalising the typography on my personal wedding card. Half-way through deciding on the type size, the computer operator stopped short, read the entire content back and forth and turned to me. Neither could she withhold her confused expression nor her tongue. I wondered what was so shocking. I read and re-read it. Did she find anything unprintable? Nah!

“Madam, personal card’aa?”, she interrupts my thought train.
“Aamam.” (Yes.)
“Ungaloda ?” (Yours ?)
“Appo, ponnu peru?” (Bride’s name?)
Oh! So she has figured out the groom’s name. Pankaj has started laughing already. When the joke is on me, it’s always convenient, isn’t it?

How difficult is it to follow that the other name on the card has to be of the girl? Gotcha! Rajani cannot be a girl! That’s her problem. Does she think this is a gay marriage? I hope not. For her own benefit. I don’t think this religious-looking, deep-in-tradition woman would have the stomach for it.

But I’m learning to enjoy these @#$%^& ideas. I used to get irritated. But of late, I’m highly amused as to how people are religiously bent to making me male. I refuse to give up.

PS: As per Citibank credit cards department, I’m “Madam Mr. Rajani Nair”.

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

You can’t SNOOZE mom.

5.15 am
Beep…. Beep…. Beep….. beep….

5.25 am
Beep…. Beep…. Beep….. beep….
Tsch. [Snooze]

5.35 am
Beep…. Beep…. Beep….. beep….
Goes the unrelenting alarm.
Mmmmm [Snooze]

5.45 am
Beep…. Beep….
Yawn! [Snooze]

5.55 am
Beep…. Beep….
Oh, Shut up! [Snooze]

6.05 am Beep [Snooze]
6.15 am Beep [Snooze]
6.25 am Bee.. [Snooze]
6.35 am B.. [Snooze]
6.37 am “Shankar will you just get out of bed?”

7.00 am
Shankar is out the door fully dressed for his gym session.
You can’t snooze mom after all.

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

What’s with me?

I have not been here in a while. Sure, there’s a lot I’ve been 
wanting to put down. I have been wandering from place to place, from one thought process to another to another, thinking up as many as 12 different things at any given moment, creating problems, solving problems, pitching, arguing, fighting, laughing, laughing so hard I cry... It’s been so much fun, so much learning and a great deal of inspiration.

So, what’s with me? Too busy? Too lazy? Writer’s block? Yes? No? I don’t know. But write I will. It’s my means and end. And yeah,