hopscotch

Thank You Aymangla villagers (Bangalore-Pondicherry Highway) and Mr Nitin Tonpe of Cummins Engg Oil for seeing P and me safely back home after the horrible accident we met on our way to Pondicherry, last year, this day. Thanks to all those people who helped me out of the car and ensured that I was safe and unhurt. I don't know their names, but I remember their faces all too well. In case I ever run into them I will thank them. No thanks to that reckless, sleepy driver of the truck we hit into. And, no thanks to the cops who fleeced both the driver (who was responsible for the accident) and us for a few thousand bucks. Should I be remembering the bitter memory? I guess so...because I am still alive. I can't forget the fact that we did meet a few good souls too. So thanks again villagers of Aymangla and Nitin Tonpe.

I wish I had a chance to meet Mario Miranda. It has been my earnest wish for fours years now to meet him and wander in the rooms, attics and verandas of his 130-year-old house. Maybe I can still get a chance of wandering in the house, but I wonder if it will be the same without nursing the hope of bumping into the creator of Miss Fonseca and Nimbu Pani. I happened to read the online edition of Gerard D'souza's coffee table book on Miranda. And, since then I was dying to own a piece of Miranda. When I got the book I felt I was truly lucky and blessed. Many nights when I was unable to sleep I used to leaf through the pages and chuckle at Miranda's wicked sense of humour and gape at his acute portrayal of life as he saw it. I have reread his family story - the story of the house and the well which stood in the compound. I wish I could see the house. I wish I could have met Miranda. Even his silhouette by the window would have been enough.

Watched Umesh Kulkarni's Deool on Sunday. I didn't like the movie. Yes, it was topical and relevant. And real - the commerce that goes hand in hand with religion. I have spent half of my life in small town so I have seen the sudden upsurge in economy, and the playing up of religious factor. But what ails the movie or in my opinion makes it one-dimensional is the strangulation of the voice of reason or rationality. Dilip Prabhavlkar's Anna is the rational voice in the movie, who suddenly packs up and goes off to his son in Bangalore. He's the counterfoil to Bhau (Nana Patekar) and his brigade of itching to do something young men. But while Bhau says building the temple is the way of development, Anna doesn't offer any convincing argument or observations or alternatives to the path of development to be forked out. We all have enough Bhaus in our midst and we all can see the effects of their development. But not enough Annas. Perhaps the movie could have been di

Mere sawal, aapke jawab. Sorry, this isn't the title of some corny Hindi movie, but maybe you really really have an answer to these rhetorical questions which trouble me night and day. 1) What will happen when Amitabh Bachchan dies? (I often think of this when I see the contestants of KBC and their relatives gushing at him. Will there be a riot or a stampede before his house? Will one of his myriad admirers also end his life?) 2) What will happen to Bachchan Bahu, AB's Baby and Jaya ma when Big B is no more? (Oops, I forgot the grandchild) 3) Can the Saifeena's (the name sucks) wedding details and the wedding itself be pre-poned and finished with before it becomes the wedding godzilla? (I for one don't want to know what is darling Saifu and his darling Bebo going to wear on their big day.) 4) Why can't I dream of hogging on marble cake without worrying about the calories and how they will sit pretty on my hips and tummy? (Oh well! I would like to eat all that

I have often used google (we all do) to check up facts, stories and other random stuff. Sometimes I have come across bits and pieces about friends and acquaintances - some profile somewhere throwing up some unknown facets. At times like these I have often felt like voyeur - that I am reading something which I SHOULDN'T BE. Some things ought to be private. I then tried to wash off the guilt by telling myself that nothing can't be private and personal in today's age and after all I wasn't out on a snoopy trail. Imagine my surprise and shock when I came across my own marriage profile posted on some unknown site. I knew I hadn't registered myself on this site when I was on a groom-hunting spree. And, yet today when I googled myself, my name, I found this profile. Complete with my name, details and what was I looking for in my-to-be. I tried hard to find their address/email id so that I could wipe out the profile. I did get numbers and I will call them and do that.

I suppose signboards reflect the changing times. But, I can't help wondering how a single apartment block becomes an international school. Earlier, every English medium school HAD to be a convent school, even if it was in outskirts, in some non-descript village and even if it didn't have the jesuits/nuns/fathers teaching or running the school. Now, every school HAS to be an international school. Even if the word International comes after the noun Saylee or Ryan or Vimal. Likewise, when you have a tooth ache, you don't go to a dentist or a dentist's clinic. You go to a dental studio! A rootcanal procedure in these studios must be called as "shining touch to the molars and pre-molars." Who said only photos are clicked at a studio? You can fix your teeth, hair, smile and even nails at the various studios scattered around your neighbourhood. Thank God...the kiranamalache dukan is still the same...until it goes international and calls itself "Kiran's

I was lucky enough to meet PC Alexander and his wife, Ackamma, at Raj Bhavan. I was an intern then and the then Governor and his wife were to meet kids who were suffering from Cancer. I think it was on the occasion of Children's Day. I remember running from the gate number 1 of Raj Bhavan right down to the State Hall, not even pausing to look at the helicopter whose blades were still whirring. Someone had just landed or someone just took off. I didn't care. I was getting late for the event. When I reached the hall, all the kids and members of Cancer Patients Aids Association were waiting in hushed silence. The Ex-Governor's press secretary and his aides were also there. And, then entered Alexander and his wife. While the gentleman quietly fussed over the children, the lady was effusive with her affection. She went hugging and kissing the kids gathered there. The kids looked a little dazed. On my way back, I paused a bit to look around the Raj Bhavan estate. I wasn'

"Love you Bagwati" "Dilon me tum apni betabiyan leke chal rahe ho,to zinda ho tum..." My google status mssg is alternating between these two lines since I watched Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara.  I was in a wretched, wound-up kind of state before I saw the movie. And, after watching it...I am smiling all the time and you know about my status mssgs! Watching the movie is like meditation (Sorry Laila for borrowing your expression). I mean, aren't we all tired of rushing around, crackling with energy and being constantly on the move? That's why just being along to glide along with the movie is such a blessing. I could actually feel all my knotted organs unwinding themselves. Uggh...the metaphor isn't very appropriate. But that's what I felt. I laughed, giggled and grinned at the "inane" jokes. I soaked myself in Imran's sheer magical imagery of words. And, of course the beauty of Spain mesmerised me. I wish I had the money and f

a) What is your idea of happiness? Sleeping; Lying on the bed and reading a book with a plate of munchies by the bedside. Summer mornings and evenings, winter mornings too. Flowers in full blooms. Giggling and talking with friends. Writing letters or long mails. Digging into SBDP and ice cream. Watching movies. Looking at old photo albums. Rereading old letters or notes. b) What is your greatest fear? Losing my Dad. Becoming financially dependent on hubby or parents. c) Which historical figure do you most identify with? Ahilya Devi Holkar, who gave the Peshwas a good fight. d) Which living person do you most admire? Aamir Khan, Rajanikant and Sonia Gandhi. Aamir for his astute business sense and “selling” himself so well. Rajanikant for being comfortable in his own skin away from the arc lights. He looks the man he is – in 60s minus his wig. (I don't know his age. I am just guessing). Sonia Gandhi, well, she had everything against her starting from her foreign origins.

I watched Bal Gandharva this week-end. It's a lovely movie - extravagantly mounted with no expenses spared. Much like the man who strove to appeal to the senses of his audience. Spraying expensive scents/perfume when they walked in to watch this musical plays, giving the ladies a reason to shop for expensive, rich and exquisite sarees, shalus and of course jewels. Who can forget the creative, imaginative and innovative props for Bal Gandharva's plays? And, of course the music. Bal Gandharva alias Narayan Shripad Rajhauns is music. All those who watched the movie knew this. In almost every Marathi household, the elders have to swear by Bal Gandharva. His plays enacted by the younger generation of actors still run housefull. Of course the elders and those who had the pleasure of hearing the original, pooh-pooh the attempt. Therefore, when people like me who have been brought up in such households decide to watch the movie, can't help but be disappointed. We have heard

Aai....this is for you! I won second prize in Bal Sahitya (senior) category. The contest was held by CEE on behalf of Environment Department, Maharashtra Govt. The title of the story is "My Mother's Garden".

It's the second day of pre-monsoon showers. The dark clouds are gathering, coming closer and closer. Soon, they will start rumbling accompanied by lightning and opening up of skies. For some rains means garma garam bhajji and hot tea laced with ginger. Some see poetry in the pitter-patter of rain drops. A sight to be enjoyed by sitting by the window or getting drenched in rains. I, however, wish to differ. I bring to you 'Barish in Headlines' (for the next three months or till the monsoon lasts) In the first few days of the monsoon, your news will be: On Page 1 (LEAD): xxxxx (fill in the name of the city) lashed by rains. The story will be accompanied by photos of Wet Girls (yes, this was actually the caption given by an intrepid photographer who shot girls caught unawares in the rain), traffic snarls, a sweet kid holding an umbrella over his head and jumping up and down in the puddles, a small crowd taking shelter under a shed covered by blue tarpulin etc etc On Pag

FAT! Ummmmm...BIG....FAT Arun murmured these words critically appraising her figure before the mirror. A few minutes later she plonked on the bed and sighed deeply. Then she looked at the black and white photo on the side table and murmured, “Thank you YOU”. Eighteen-year-old Arunima (or Arun as she preferred to be called) was smart, sassy and always ready to smile. But, alone, before the mirror, she was fragile and vulnerable. “Come on 18-going on-28, move your BIG BUTT and get going,” she told herself, sitting up on the bed. She slowly moved towards closet and pulled out denims and paused. Arun looked longingly at a short tee. “No point...” she reminded and instead pulled out a long Fab India kurta. “Kurta...naaaaaah....kurti. Who cares? I look like a behenji no matter what I wear,” Arun thought out aloud. Her eyes glistened with tears when she remembered Kunal and Anjuli's biting comments. That day she had chosen to wear a short tee which fitted her snugly. She

It's a stupid, sultry afternoon. I am sitting in the comfort of a fully air-conditioned office. So I shouldn't be complaining, right? Well, I am not exactly complaining, or fault finding or even griping. I am just ruminating...ah that sound so like a cow who is chewing the cud. I just finished eating dahi-bhat (hence the simile is apt) and now I am thinking of how if I was somewhere else (read...not in office) I would spend the afternoon in pleasurable pursuits. And, for me, that is either watching a movie, reading a book or just curling up and snoring away to glory. I haven't watched a decent movie in ages, or ate decent food in ages (I am exaggerating) and sleeping...yes I get my beauty sleep of 8 hours, but don't mind stretching it to 10-12 hours on a Saturday morning. But since I am stuck in office this afternoon, I can just visualise... Movies: I am an avid movie buff, but I have realised that my choice of watching films on an afternoon like this has narrowed d

Golden Temple (Tibetan monastery) at Kushalnagar, in Madikeri district. There's a big Tibetan colony here Prasad at Nalkanand Palace, Coorg Deer in Kabini jungle   

Kabini Jungle Lodge is known for tuskers. Spotted quite a few. Alas no tigers! Sun sets at the Kabini lake. Loved the gorgeous colours. An artiste's colour palette! This is the jungle lodge we stayed at. Lush greenery. Sit on the clouds and float away into nothingness. Or perhaps pull out a few wisps and gobble them. This is so ME. Always hungry.

This is not a blog post. But, I felt I had to say something about the recent movements for Democracy in the Arab world. First Egypt and now Libya and Bahrain. Time's up for dictators? I surely hope it is. The iron-fisted rules can't withstand the twitter attack....

Sisters can be pest, Sisters can be best! I know it's a BAD RHYME and not even a verse. But that's what sisters are - pest and the best. I was a pest for my elder sister. We both love chocolates and as a kid I was always searching her bag for toffees, chocolates, Dairy Milk in secret zipped pockets and finishing them up. I was always prying. I was always nosy. I was her shadow. She is elder to me by 9 years - a decade apart. No wonder I was like a spoilt brat rather than a sister she could depend on. Whatever talks I had with friends have told me that one sister is equivalent of a samurai army, ready to slay the person who troubled their baby. Am I glad that I NEVER had to face a class bully or 'well-meaning'  teachers never came in my way! But I wonder what happens to the eldest girl? Whom does she turn to in difficult time? I never bothered to stop and think until today. Whom did my sister go to when she needed to sob or ached for a pat on the back? For me,

I don't eavesdrop as a rule. I think it's slimy and creepy. But sometimes when you hear some interesting tidbits, you don't turn away, right? I have reproduced some tidbits with extra spice. All ears? A not-so-old lady (despite what she says): OMG.....I am soooooooooo sorrrrrrrrrrry dear. Sooooooo sorry to let you down dear. I keep forgetting...old age. I will get in touch after I am back from my holiay. Ta-da! A woman (girl perhaps) wearing a plain, lose salwar suit. Hair unkempt: You know what...the other day... xxxx channel aired the interview I conducted with of Shankar-Ehsan-Loy. My uncle called up after he watched the broadcast and said, " Tuzhe sasarkadche sahishnu ahet bagh. Bagh...mahercha adnav lavayla manai karat nahit. Sahishnuch te!" All this about the sasar ....and not a word about the interview, Hrrrrrrmph. Roving Eye: See, here comes the 'Company Clown'. My God...she is so FOOLISH. Thinks no end of herself. But, humein andar ki baat

These photographs are of my mother's garden - her favourite flowers, trees and her final resting place. This is how it looks like in her absence. I have tried to capture various corners of the garden.

Is it Saturday today? Why is there a pin-drop silence then? The usual background voices/sounds are missing...and I have realised it now. I can't see Miss Jingle-Jangle's head bobbing over her work...nor have I met her at our favourite destination – loo. Our paths cross there almost every time of the day when I go to relieve myself. Our paths cross...but we never ever smile. In case I miss meeting her, I can always tell if she was there before me – the overpowering fragrance of her perfume and spilled water near the washroom. Reminds me of Archimedes's 'eureka' experience. (I am being wicked!) Well....Miss Jingle Jangle's braying irritates me most of the times. She is forever on call. “No....no. I need you to book Mr....X and Y on this flight. He will be returning back on...” Her favourite topic though I can guess sitting on the other side of the aisle is, food. “ Nahi..nahi sweet dish toh jaruri ahe. Hum log neeche gaye 5 min, 5 min karte rahein. Humnein t