A man puts his girl friend through a lie detector test to check if she has been cheating on him. He states he will break up with her, never to associate himself with her again, if the result turns out to be positive; and will propose marriage to her, if it turns out negative.
Lack of trust - this is the note on which the couple begin their married life together. It’s easy to guess why the divorce rate in this country is as high as it is.
Turns out, they also have a child out of wedlock. What of the child, if the lie detector shows his mother to be unfaithful? Doesn’t the child need the love and attention of both parents to have a secure childhood? Why bring a new life into the world if you cannot take up its responsibility and ensure its well being? To raise yet another generation of psychopaths who attribute all their misdeeds to an unhappy childhood?
Thursday, March 31, 2005
Tuesday, March 29, 2005
Noodles for thought.
Saturday was special for many reasons. Half a day at school, less homework, more time to finish it, and the next day was Sunday. But there was yet another reason to look forward to Saturday afternoon. Maggi. Delicious noodles, nothing close to the Chinese version, that came in two flavors to suit the Indian palate – Masala and Chicken. Strangely, the “Masala” was marked in red while the “Chicken” was marked in Green! I was allowed to have Maggi noodles for lunch.
That ad whose wordings changed from time to time; so did the models. But the theme of hungry children coming home to steaming cups of Maggi Noodles with colourful vegetables popping out of the bowls remained the same. As did the catchy tune. Try singing it:
"Something something something something,
Something something something something,
Some-thing some-thing some-thing,
Maggi Maggi Maggi!!"
The best part about Maggi was that it was as tasty as it was made to seem on TV. Unlike other products which promised much and delivered little, Maggi stuck to its word - Easy to make; good to eat. But still, some people ruined this simple dish with their unwanted ingenuity. My heart bled when I saw people giving it a south Indian touch by seasoning it with turmeric, chana dal and mustard!
Boil one and a half cups of water, add chopped beans and carrot and peas, cook for two minutes, and then add the noodles followed by the masala. Wait for another two minutes and what have we! Yummy Maggi noodles, ready to be devoured! As simple as that. The first helping is good; the second even better. The remaining strands of noodles have absorbed the tasty soup and have become thicker and more succulent! Slurp!!
There has to be some secret ingredient in the Masala that makes Maggi so irresistible. I don’t care what it is, but I hope they retain it!
Few products have dominated the Indian market like Maggi has. Other brands have come and gone, some have stayed, but Maggi rules the instant noodles and instant food market in India. Long live Maggi noodles!
That ad whose wordings changed from time to time; so did the models. But the theme of hungry children coming home to steaming cups of Maggi Noodles with colourful vegetables popping out of the bowls remained the same. As did the catchy tune. Try singing it:
"Something something something something,
Something something something something,
Some-thing some-thing some-thing,
Maggi Maggi Maggi!!"
The best part about Maggi was that it was as tasty as it was made to seem on TV. Unlike other products which promised much and delivered little, Maggi stuck to its word - Easy to make; good to eat. But still, some people ruined this simple dish with their unwanted ingenuity. My heart bled when I saw people giving it a south Indian touch by seasoning it with turmeric, chana dal and mustard!
Boil one and a half cups of water, add chopped beans and carrot and peas, cook for two minutes, and then add the noodles followed by the masala. Wait for another two minutes and what have we! Yummy Maggi noodles, ready to be devoured! As simple as that. The first helping is good; the second even better. The remaining strands of noodles have absorbed the tasty soup and have become thicker and more succulent! Slurp!!
There has to be some secret ingredient in the Masala that makes Maggi so irresistible. I don’t care what it is, but I hope they retain it!
Few products have dominated the Indian market like Maggi has. Other brands have come and gone, some have stayed, but Maggi rules the instant noodles and instant food market in India. Long live Maggi noodles!
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
Say a Saying
Proverbs were an essential part of my growing up; thanks to my mother. She had one for every occasion. Lessons were taught and principles were laid down, through proverbs, rather than lengthy sermons. So much so, that when I think of my mother today, I don’t remember the exact words that she said when I was reprimanded, only the proverb that ended the admonition.
The one that was used on me most often was, “Gidavaagi baggaddu maravaagi baggeethe”. When translated it means, “That which will not bend as a sapling, will it bend as a tree?” !!
I was always asked to do odd jobs around the house and with the perfectionist mom that I had, the job had not only to be finished perfectly, and in the least time possible, but also done in a particular way!! I would stubbornly declare that I would do it my way for now and learn to do it her way when I was older. What did I get at the end of my compelling argument? The good old proverb and often its meaning – If you don’t learn when you are young; chances are, you won’t when you are older. So, start practicing now.
I got to hear many more over the short period of time my mother and I interacted with each other. When I came home a sore loser, blaming everything and everyone from the mike to the judge who slept while I spoke, I got to hear “Naach na jaane, aangan teda”. That put an end to my cribbing. When we heard a story of a greedy guy who lived beyond his means and suffered later, it was “Haasge iddashtu kaal chaachu”. Lazy to mend your clothes and will make do with a safety pin? “A stitch in time saves nine”. When I refused to run an errand, on the pretext that I wasn’t sure of my way around the place, “Kannu kurudaadre baayi kuruda?” it was. You may be blind, but not dumb; so be bold, girl; ask your way around. She even had one proverb commending proverbs, placing them above the Vedas in terms of relevance and the simple truths they stood for - "Veda sullaagabahudu, Gaade sullaagalla". So generous doses of proverbs it was, everyday.
When I look back now, I realize that somewhere along the way, with repeated usage, these little words of wisdom stopped being mere proverbs and became a way of life. They became principles we adopted, ideals we lived by; shaping our personalities by way of conditioning our thought process. I believe strongly in the underlying meaning of each of them and use them liberally in speech and writing today. I do not know if my mother intended for them to have such an impact on us when she used them, but if she did, she would be happy to know that it certainly has. It's no longer just a proverb or gaade or muhaavra, it's a legacy that I will proudly pass on to my children.
The one that was used on me most often was, “Gidavaagi baggaddu maravaagi baggeethe”. When translated it means, “That which will not bend as a sapling, will it bend as a tree?” !!
I was always asked to do odd jobs around the house and with the perfectionist mom that I had, the job had not only to be finished perfectly, and in the least time possible, but also done in a particular way!! I would stubbornly declare that I would do it my way for now and learn to do it her way when I was older. What did I get at the end of my compelling argument? The good old proverb and often its meaning – If you don’t learn when you are young; chances are, you won’t when you are older. So, start practicing now.
I got to hear many more over the short period of time my mother and I interacted with each other. When I came home a sore loser, blaming everything and everyone from the mike to the judge who slept while I spoke, I got to hear “Naach na jaane, aangan teda”. That put an end to my cribbing. When we heard a story of a greedy guy who lived beyond his means and suffered later, it was “Haasge iddashtu kaal chaachu”. Lazy to mend your clothes and will make do with a safety pin? “A stitch in time saves nine”. When I refused to run an errand, on the pretext that I wasn’t sure of my way around the place, “Kannu kurudaadre baayi kuruda?” it was. You may be blind, but not dumb; so be bold, girl; ask your way around. She even had one proverb commending proverbs, placing them above the Vedas in terms of relevance and the simple truths they stood for - "Veda sullaagabahudu, Gaade sullaagalla". So generous doses of proverbs it was, everyday.
When I look back now, I realize that somewhere along the way, with repeated usage, these little words of wisdom stopped being mere proverbs and became a way of life. They became principles we adopted, ideals we lived by; shaping our personalities by way of conditioning our thought process. I believe strongly in the underlying meaning of each of them and use them liberally in speech and writing today. I do not know if my mother intended for them to have such an impact on us when she used them, but if she did, she would be happy to know that it certainly has. It's no longer just a proverb or gaade or muhaavra, it's a legacy that I will proudly pass on to my children.
Thursday, March 17, 2005
Maanasa Sarovara
“Maanasa Sarovara”, he says, in that golden voice. Pause. “Haadu. Haadtya?” Music. Four words and I have goosebumps.
I picture Srinath with his wide rimmed glasses, looking affectionately at his patient and beloved Padma Vaasanthi. The lady herself under the shade of a tree, joy and gratitude in her eyes, as she looks at the doctor who has given her a new lease of life. A bullock cart that rests innocently by the riverside and mother nature in all her glory; binding them all together.
The song comes alive as the two legends – S.P.B. and Vani Jayaram come together to render the most heart-warming melody that I have heard in all my life. Words fail me, as I try for the umpteenth time to capture in better words the emotions I go through when I listen to this song. I can only think of one. Happiness. A smile involuntarily adorns the lips when the duet begins and stays long after the song is over.
If music is a string and the words, beads; this song to me is the most beautiful string of beads.
I picture Srinath with his wide rimmed glasses, looking affectionately at his patient and beloved Padma Vaasanthi. The lady herself under the shade of a tree, joy and gratitude in her eyes, as she looks at the doctor who has given her a new lease of life. A bullock cart that rests innocently by the riverside and mother nature in all her glory; binding them all together.
The song comes alive as the two legends – S.P.B. and Vani Jayaram come together to render the most heart-warming melody that I have heard in all my life. Words fail me, as I try for the umpteenth time to capture in better words the emotions I go through when I listen to this song. I can only think of one. Happiness. A smile involuntarily adorns the lips when the duet begins and stays long after the song is over.
If music is a string and the words, beads; this song to me is the most beautiful string of beads.
Tuesday, March 15, 2005
Save the Earth; start with Bangalore!
Much has been said about Bangalore’s roads and the unnerving traffic. We do little else than point a finger at the inefficient government, the corrupt officials, the builders who do not stick to the time-lines and the understaffed traffic police force. I agree that all of them are to blame for the sad state of affairs in the city today and are answerable to the tax-payer for their apathy in this regard. But I have to add that we are responsible too. If we complain about the traffic, we must realize that our bikes and cars are part of it too. If we complain about pollution, our vehicles are emitting the thick black smoke too. If we complain about indiscipline, we must remember that sometimes we break rules too.
I travelled on Hosur road to get to Electronic City for close to a year and have to agree that each day, it was a frustrating one and a half hour's journey to get to work. When I peered out of the window I saw that more than the trucks that we conveniently blamed, which actually belonged to this particular road, it was the two wheelers and cars that were the culprits. While the two wheelers broke all rules to make their way through the narrowest of paths in the maze of traffic to get a few inches ahead, the cars sat comfortably and honked.
Now, why didn’t these people take the company buses like all others? If ten people were to travel by bus, it would mean ten cars less. Considering the space one car occupies, that’s a lot of space saved. But they wouldn’t do that; would they? They want to sit in the comfort of their air conditioned cars to shut off the polluted air and curse the rest of the traffic while they are to blame more than the trucks and the buses.
Yet another thought. How many of us think of taking the BMTC buses when we have to go out? If a dozen of us does it, it’s a dozen vehicles off the road. But for most of us it is a shame and below our dignity to travel by bus. We all assume that the buses never ply as per schedule, are slow, crowded, dirty, what not! Have we tried? I have and let me tell you that if you can manage to get a seat, which is not too difficult, it is the best way to commute! It is safe, economical, and more comforatble than a ride on a bike. Now you might argue that it is time consuming and in the busy life one leads today half an hour is a lot of time. A lot of time for what? Some more sleep? Another show on Television? Another page or two in the newspaper? Well, you could do that while you sat in the bus. The problem is we are not willing to try. We do not believe that one of us can make a difference. “Little drops of water make a mighty ocean” is easy to preach, but too difficult to practice.
I urge each one of you to give it a try. Take the BMTC bus whenever you can. Save the auto fare for better things. Take the company bus even if you can afford to travel by car. Walk short distances. Set a trend. Help save the city we all so love! Will you? :-)
I travelled on Hosur road to get to Electronic City for close to a year and have to agree that each day, it was a frustrating one and a half hour's journey to get to work. When I peered out of the window I saw that more than the trucks that we conveniently blamed, which actually belonged to this particular road, it was the two wheelers and cars that were the culprits. While the two wheelers broke all rules to make their way through the narrowest of paths in the maze of traffic to get a few inches ahead, the cars sat comfortably and honked.
Now, why didn’t these people take the company buses like all others? If ten people were to travel by bus, it would mean ten cars less. Considering the space one car occupies, that’s a lot of space saved. But they wouldn’t do that; would they? They want to sit in the comfort of their air conditioned cars to shut off the polluted air and curse the rest of the traffic while they are to blame more than the trucks and the buses.
Yet another thought. How many of us think of taking the BMTC buses when we have to go out? If a dozen of us does it, it’s a dozen vehicles off the road. But for most of us it is a shame and below our dignity to travel by bus. We all assume that the buses never ply as per schedule, are slow, crowded, dirty, what not! Have we tried? I have and let me tell you that if you can manage to get a seat, which is not too difficult, it is the best way to commute! It is safe, economical, and more comforatble than a ride on a bike. Now you might argue that it is time consuming and in the busy life one leads today half an hour is a lot of time. A lot of time for what? Some more sleep? Another show on Television? Another page or two in the newspaper? Well, you could do that while you sat in the bus. The problem is we are not willing to try. We do not believe that one of us can make a difference. “Little drops of water make a mighty ocean” is easy to preach, but too difficult to practice.
I urge each one of you to give it a try. Take the BMTC bus whenever you can. Save the auto fare for better things. Take the company bus even if you can afford to travel by car. Walk short distances. Set a trend. Help save the city we all so love! Will you? :-)
Saturday, March 12, 2005
Homemaker v/s Housewife
State of mind: Agitated.
They draw as far as the dictionary is concerned. But, if I were to define a married woman who stays at home, who does not have a paid or unpaid occupation outside of home, using one word; housewife it would be. This also happens to be the reason why I’ve decided to replace the more sophisticated and more pseudo “homemaker” in my user profile with this word.
All women make homes. Do housewives make it any better that they are called that? I don’t think so. My mother had a full-time job and she managed the home just as well as the ones who stayed at home, sometimes better and never worse. She never got to call herself a “homemaker”. Why me?
State of mind: Relaxed = Rational.
All married women have, by default, one steady job – that of managing the household, also called homemaking, which goes unstated, if they have yet another job.
If all “working women” started stating this job explicitly, we would have in the space provided for occupation, “doctor, homemaker”, “lawyer, homemaker”, “teacher, homemaker” and so on. So for a married woman who has a career, the homemaker part goes without saying.
On the other hand, what should the unemployed housewife call herself? “Jobless”? “Unemployed”? She chooses not to. She embraces this default job of homemaking as the primary one and uses the term “homemaker” to describe her occupation instead of the simple and crude “jobless”. Fair enough? Yes, for me.
Also a good enough reason to retain the debated term in the user profile. :-)
They draw as far as the dictionary is concerned. But, if I were to define a married woman who stays at home, who does not have a paid or unpaid occupation outside of home, using one word; housewife it would be. This also happens to be the reason why I’ve decided to replace the more sophisticated and more pseudo “homemaker” in my user profile with this word.
All women make homes. Do housewives make it any better that they are called that? I don’t think so. My mother had a full-time job and she managed the home just as well as the ones who stayed at home, sometimes better and never worse. She never got to call herself a “homemaker”. Why me?
State of mind: Relaxed = Rational.
All married women have, by default, one steady job – that of managing the household, also called homemaking, which goes unstated, if they have yet another job.
If all “working women” started stating this job explicitly, we would have in the space provided for occupation, “doctor, homemaker”, “lawyer, homemaker”, “teacher, homemaker” and so on. So for a married woman who has a career, the homemaker part goes without saying.
On the other hand, what should the unemployed housewife call herself? “Jobless”? “Unemployed”? She chooses not to. She embraces this default job of homemaking as the primary one and uses the term “homemaker” to describe her occupation instead of the simple and crude “jobless”. Fair enough? Yes, for me.
Also a good enough reason to retain the debated term in the user profile. :-)
Tuesday, March 08, 2005
I think...
...an enormous lot goes into the making of a person. To mention the two most important factors and perhaps the most all-inclusive ones – experiences and people. The person you are, what you know, the way you react, the kind of people you are drawn to, the kind of people you despise, everything is based on your own experiences in the past or those which someone has told you about - through a book, through a movie, or by talking to you. Which means each one of us, has in ourselves, a little of every person who has touched our lives, positively. The bitter experiences and the traits of the person that led to them, we invariably choose not to imbibe, owing to the pain it brought to us. This means we evolve with the experiences we have had and learnt from, the people we meet, the positives we add and the negatives we filter out from our personalities. So the mere years behind you, beyond a certain age, have nothing to do with the kind of person you have turned out to be. It is what you’ve learnt along the way, which makes you what you are. Simply put, one is not always, a “wise old man” or a “brash young lad”!
Sunday, March 06, 2005
A midsummer night's....story
My brother had come home after six months from the UK, and the mood at home was euphoric. At around 10.00 that night, there was a knock at the door and he answered it. Curious to know who it was at the odd hour, anna and I joined him. An old man, with a white beard covering most part of his countenance, stood before us. He had the familiar khakee coat on and as we looked beyond, we saw an auto rickshaw perched in front of our home. For a moment I thought it was an auto driver seeking directions; until he uttered that simple four lettered word, “File”. No sooner had he said that, than everything came rushing back to my brother as he immediately identified the old man to be the auto driver who had driven him home from the airport.
As we watched in bewilderment, the elderly man led us to his auto and produced a file. The file. The navy blue case which had all the important papers in it. Marks cards, degree certificates, work experience certificates, everything! It was then that we realized that it had been “LOST” all the while.
Our messiah unfolded the events of the day to us as we continued to watch in disbelief. My brother had been his first customer for the day and he had picked him up at the airport. Sometime in the evening, a commuter had found the file sitting innocently in the back seat and had mentioned it to him. The previous passengers had perhaps assumed that it belonged to the driver and had not bothered to bring it up. When this man handed him the file while alighting at his destination, the old man was worried. It was 7.00 in the evening and he had had several customers since daylight. There was no way he could establish who it belonged to. His conscience did not permit him to discard it either. It might mean a lot to someone, he felt, and he was right.
Illiterate that he was, he took the file to a bunch of lads chit-chatting nearby. He explained the situation to them and asked them to find the address from the papers. They flipped through the certificates and finally in one of the papers they found the address and told the old man that it belonged to someone from “Rajajinagar, 1st Block”. They also told him, it looked like it was a doctor’s. Now it was clear to the old man that it belonged to his first customer, the young man who he had ferried home from the airport. He did not need the postal address to return it to its rightful owner anymore; he had been there in the morning and could get to the house comfortably. And so, here he was.
He handed it over to my brother and asked him to check if everything was in place. My brother did not find the need to do that, after encountering such honest behaviour from the man. However, he quickly scanned the contents at the old man's insistence and as expected, found everything intact. We thanked him profusely for his kindness and he told us modestly that we had only to thank God for it. He was a moulvi in a mosque and asked us to visit the shrine sometime.
He mentioned having small kids at home and we gave him some chocolates to take home for the children.
A couple of hundred rupee notes can in no way measure up to a gesture and deed like this, but we had to show our gratitude in some way.
As he bade us goodbye and went his way, we stood there, dumbstruck. We shuddered to think what it would have been like, had we discovered that it was lost, before it was found! It would have taken my brother quite some time to even determine where it was lost. Even if he did, how could we track it down? A complaint at the local police station remains just that. Nothing is ever recovered.
When I look back, I cannot help but conclude that some incidents are beyond reasoning. Why did my brother have to forget that precious file in the auto? Why did he have to take the pious old man's auto that day? Had he taken another, would he have still got the lost property back? Did the old man, in all his innocence have any idea, what those piece of papers meant to my brother? I can go on and on about the endless possibilities. But the point is, did all this happen for a purpose? To be grateful to God? To re-establish our lost faith in the goodness of mankind? Maybe.
As we watched in bewilderment, the elderly man led us to his auto and produced a file. The file. The navy blue case which had all the important papers in it. Marks cards, degree certificates, work experience certificates, everything! It was then that we realized that it had been “LOST” all the while.
Our messiah unfolded the events of the day to us as we continued to watch in disbelief. My brother had been his first customer for the day and he had picked him up at the airport. Sometime in the evening, a commuter had found the file sitting innocently in the back seat and had mentioned it to him. The previous passengers had perhaps assumed that it belonged to the driver and had not bothered to bring it up. When this man handed him the file while alighting at his destination, the old man was worried. It was 7.00 in the evening and he had had several customers since daylight. There was no way he could establish who it belonged to. His conscience did not permit him to discard it either. It might mean a lot to someone, he felt, and he was right.
Illiterate that he was, he took the file to a bunch of lads chit-chatting nearby. He explained the situation to them and asked them to find the address from the papers. They flipped through the certificates and finally in one of the papers they found the address and told the old man that it belonged to someone from “Rajajinagar, 1st Block”. They also told him, it looked like it was a doctor’s. Now it was clear to the old man that it belonged to his first customer, the young man who he had ferried home from the airport. He did not need the postal address to return it to its rightful owner anymore; he had been there in the morning and could get to the house comfortably. And so, here he was.
He handed it over to my brother and asked him to check if everything was in place. My brother did not find the need to do that, after encountering such honest behaviour from the man. However, he quickly scanned the contents at the old man's insistence and as expected, found everything intact. We thanked him profusely for his kindness and he told us modestly that we had only to thank God for it. He was a moulvi in a mosque and asked us to visit the shrine sometime.
He mentioned having small kids at home and we gave him some chocolates to take home for the children.
A couple of hundred rupee notes can in no way measure up to a gesture and deed like this, but we had to show our gratitude in some way.
As he bade us goodbye and went his way, we stood there, dumbstruck. We shuddered to think what it would have been like, had we discovered that it was lost, before it was found! It would have taken my brother quite some time to even determine where it was lost. Even if he did, how could we track it down? A complaint at the local police station remains just that. Nothing is ever recovered.
When I look back, I cannot help but conclude that some incidents are beyond reasoning. Why did my brother have to forget that precious file in the auto? Why did he have to take the pious old man's auto that day? Had he taken another, would he have still got the lost property back? Did the old man, in all his innocence have any idea, what those piece of papers meant to my brother? I can go on and on about the endless possibilities. But the point is, did all this happen for a purpose? To be grateful to God? To re-establish our lost faith in the goodness of mankind? Maybe.
Friday, March 04, 2005
Back in action
I lasted! Yes I did! Without internet and music and cable TV and DVD’s.
Goes to show, there are some things you cannot live without and others you cannot live comfortably without.
Is that the difference between need and greed?
It was foggy and misty this morning and I thought I' d made a tongue twister, only until Se managed to say it comfortably. :( Let's hear you say it. "Mister Mist missed Miss Mitchell" I hope you said Missele. :(
BTW, it took me close to an hour to log comments and create this post. I'm quite sure it's the Vital Information and Resources (of my system that are) Under Siege. So I have to patiently wait till my PC gets well!! :-)
Goes to show, there are some things you cannot live without and others you cannot live comfortably without.
Is that the difference between need and greed?
It was foggy and misty this morning and I thought I' d made a tongue twister, only until Se managed to say it comfortably. :( Let's hear you say it. "Mister Mist missed Miss Mitchell" I hope you said Missele. :(
BTW, it took me close to an hour to log comments and create this post. I'm quite sure it's the Vital Information and Resources (of my system that are) Under Siege. So I have to patiently wait till my PC gets well!! :-)
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