Letting Go

The toughest thing in life is letting go. It is so easy to talk about it and try to be all sensible about it but in reality there are times when you just want to hold on. You don't want to part or say bye, even if it is just for a short time. Distance does change things.

Having said all this, we don't like to come off as clingy people. We want to be calm and cool when having to let go of someone or something. Emoness is for the weak. Or so we like to claim. 

Hypocrites. That's what we are. We hide our emotions or just run away from them. We distract ourselves from thinking about it. We listen to others whine and call them as emotional clingy people. 

Maybe it is time to stop and introspect.

When was the last time you weren't upset that your favourite slipper got cut just as you were heading out or you weren't annoyed that your favourite shirt had an ink stain the morning of an important meeting? 

These things get to us. Small things indeed, but they still get to us. We try not to let it show. We don't want to seem materialistic but of course we are human. 

Letting go applies even for our favourite skirts, shirts and purses, who said I was talking only about people.

When it comes to other human beings, we allow ourselves to get attached. We all do. There are some who may claim to be divine and have the ability to remain unattached to both living and non living beings. Maybe that is a distinct possibility for some one out of thousands of people. What about the rest? The " common " man has issues when it comes to parting. 

We don't want people to go away from our lives for some reason or the other; they made it a better place, we had fun with them, they made us realise we had a different side, or maybe, we just fell in love. Whatever be the reason, at the end of the day, if I must quote my favourite line (which is a really popular line from a tv show and considered to a highly emo quote), "people always leave". 

Deal with it.

Cry, get angry, punch someone, scream at the world, take a walk, dance, sing, whine about it on a public forum or blog. Do whatever it takes to get it out of your system but don't go into denial. There are too many people who will walk in and out of your life. There are too many things that you will lose in your life. Take it from a person who has seen this happen repeatedly in her life. 

It may have taken me about 10 years to realise writing is my way of dealing with it, but hey atleast I have found what works for me along with a few tears and many many episodes of brainless sitcoms.

It is hard. Nobody said it was easy.

So why am I in a 'lesson of life' mode? The past couple of weeks has been about saying bye to students who have moved away to study. They have made a difference in my life and I as happy as I am for them getting into some brilliant colleges and universities, it still pinches me that they will no longer be around. Things will change,

The past few years has seen some of my best friends, my closest buddies, girls who were like sisters to me, get married and go way. Some of them to different countries and some of them just to different parts of the same city. But the point it, I've had to deal with letting go of them. Having to remind myself that she is now Mrs.Someone else first and then only my friend. I have dealt very badly with it in the past. I have allowed myself to be overcome with emotion and breakdown. I have allowed myself to blame other person. 

Not any more. 

I now know that just because people always leave it doesn't mean that everything is lost. There are memories and photos and means to keep in touch. There is also a will to keep in touch and the more people you have abroad is directly proportional to the number of gifts that you get from there. So its not all that bad.

So I say good bye to the clingyness and the denial system that apparently wasn't working for me. It is time to let go of negativity as well. Who said letting go wasn't for the greater good?

krupa

Class Teacher Tales: The Journey to the Centre of the Class Assembly

As class teacher I got to interact with my class students much more than the subject teachers. This is especially during class assembly.
You get to dig out the hidden talents, watch them argue, fight with them, scream at them for being ever so playful, hold your head in pain as you watch them mess up lines and miss cues. It is all part and parcel of this beautiful journey that ends on a Monday morning with the teacher having palpitations and wondering why we have to go through this tension year after year. I mean wasn't the Board exams enough?

Will the audience get the message? Will they sing on note? Will the props for the skit be kept in order? Will they forget dance steps? Will I be the one held responsible for the world's worst assembly ever??
These are the thoughts that ran through my head at 7.55am.

At 9am, "Its done, its done!" is what I want to scream. All's well that ends well, right? Well that's to the external eye.

The journey of the class assembly is waaay more.

It starts with the class teacher telling her class, during the ten minute class teacher time (yes we have class teacher time), that they have a month or two for the class assembly. Immediately discussions start in small discrete packets around the classroom.
If she has a slightly over enthusiastic class then it is possible that they will come back to her the very same day and ask for 15 minutes to discuss topics during her class.
Well the smart class teacher doesn't give 15 minutes because she knows that 15 will become a full 50 minutes. Goodbye chemistry class.
If you wonder why the class teacher is hyperventilating over a lost class, well that's because its just the beginning of many such classes that disappear. Soon the class is begging for the physics class and maths class to practice for the assembly. This, of course, drives the other subject teachers insane as they have portions to finish too. "Plus the class assembly is a month away, why do they need practice time right now?"
There is always something to do. Lines to go over, scenes to redo and some cases, the whole topic is dropped and a new one chosen after many more arguments.
One would think there was just starting trouble, but oh no, to get the true class assembly effect there have to be problems that crop up in between. Someone feels like she/he is doing all the work, another he/she doesn't want a particular he/she to be a part of the singing group, yet another doesn't want to waste their time with trivial things like class assembly. Kids these days and their issues, sheesh!!
There are moments when I have had this itch in my palm to just give them all 'one tight slap' (to quote my best friend's words)

The first few classes used for discussion are a sheer waste of time but they have to happen. The class HAS to procrastinate about choosing a topic, atleast one-third of them sit with a "we really don't care about this discussion" attitude, and the rest break into smaller groups. Like one student very aptly told me once " Ma'am, I have 15 people in my class but 18 groups. What can I do?".
After about 4 wasted hours  (that's 4 * 50 minutes people. Have you any idea how much could be done in that time?), the class teacher decides to take the matters into her own hands. Enough of treating these kids like young adults and waiting for them to be mature and take a decision, it is time to the real adult steps in and interferes. (it is what all adults do).
She decides the topic, hands out duties, all while making the students feel absolutely insignificant but yet telling them that this was their assembly (P.S she will be saying that a lot more over the course of the journey)

The next step would be to start the actual practice sessions. It first starts off with Praise and Worship songs. That is always the easiest to get done until all the classes want to sing the same songs! The practice timings have to be coordinated with the Music Department and classes get rearranged accordingly.

Then the skit and dance. This is definitely the toughest to coordinate. People don't want certain parts or they want to only do a certain song. If there is a choreographer in the class, then great, some work is taken care of. Then again, if the class teacher is an interfering control freak like me, well she haa to change around some steps and make it look put together in her way.

Fixing timings to get the auditorium for a full run through is about the point where the class teacher starts to fall apart. "Nothing is ready!", she whines. The praise and worship is half done, the skit isn't complete, the dance steps are being constantly changed and the special song, is it still happening? If a Saturday morning run through doesn't happen, then that is surely as sign that something is going to mess up the Monday morning assembly.

The Saturday morning run through is the most essential part. It is when the teacher is at her wits end to get everything together in time for the assembly that is to happen in less than 48 hours. Backdrops are being made, costumes being finalized, steps being practiced. Every class teacher dreams of that perfect run through with no stops or hitches, just one run through to make them breathe easy over the remainder of the weekend. Then again, life ain't perfect, is it now? Of course everyone would turn up late for practice and the mikes wouldn't be set up yet, the music hasn't been cut, and the main MC has a family function and can't make it. It is at this point that the class teacher is ready to meltdown, or in my case melts down in front of the whole class. Nothing works better than a bit of emotional blackmail.

Suddenly everyone is just running around getting things done and the whole run through goes like clockwork.

Before she knows it, it is Monday morning and everyone has reached, except for that one kid who has probably never heard of the term "come early" in his lifetime.
Behind stage there isn't a minute when the teacher isn't praying that everything should go well. Her heart beat is in tachycardia until the National Anthem is sung.

The final step in this journey would be the post assembly treat for the class that consists of junk food for sure. Doughnuts, cakes, chips whatever it takes to hide any scars that may have occurred during the process and to mend any bridges that were burnt along the way. After all the class teacher's job isn't done yet. This is just the beginning...


krupa

Disclaimer: Exaggeration may have happened at some points. 


Epilogue:
After all that has been said, I think credit must be given where it is due. Personally I had a brilliant class, and despite all the ups and downs, they did a lot of work as well. It was very much their assembly as it was mine. I did get frustrated many times, but more due my incompetence and inability to milk them of all their talents. I think they were the best class a person could have had, then again, that's just me.
In case I forgot to tell you guys, (you know who all are), Thank you for all that you did. 

Class teacher Tales: First Day

Today was Prize Day and as I sat in the crowd watching my students walk on stage to get awards and win laurels for their achievements, I felt a sense of pride. A sense of achievement and accomplishment, like I've done something right.
As I sat there, my mind went back to the first few days, when they had just entered Junior College.

When I was told that I would be class teacher, I was ecstatic and really nervous. Teaching chemistry was one thing, but being responsible for a whole class, well that's a different ball game altogether.

As class teacher of 11 Science, my first responsibility was to make them feel comfortable and feel at ease.
The night before the student orientation I had a speech ready. I wanted to be taken seriously and give an impression of being a dignified elegant woman, The kind of person who was the perfect combination of  a disciplinarian and yet approachable.
I had practised what I wanted to say. I wanted to make the right first impression.

Then the morning of the orientation dawned. The actual orientation went well and then it came to the time when the class teacher, aka me, had to go to the class and welcome the class and tell them that I was their class teacher. Basically break the ice.
I walked into class. I was nervous. My palms were sweating and while walking up to the classroom on the top floor I very quickly reminded myself of what I wanted to talk about. 'Be calm, cool and confident', I kept telling myself.
Then I walked into class and about 22 pairs of eyes were all focussed on me. I went blank. Everything that I had prepared just flew out of my mind (that's what my students have claim happens to them during exams and tests). My stomach clenched and I just wanted to walk away and not look back.
After saying "Hi! I'm Krupa and I'll be your class teacher and also your chemistry teacher", I just stared at them. I really had no clue what to do next.

Then it clicked, yes get them to introduce themselves (yet again). I tried to elicit some responses out of the extra nervous and silent ones.
I found myself looking at all of them, trying to piece faces and names together. Trying to gauge what was my first impression of them.
There were some really bright ones (their eyes were shining), some friendly faces (I think they could see I was nervous too. Plus I think in the process of trying to make conversation I may have actually told them that it was my first time as class teacher. That was the start of me being honest and open with my class. Mistake? In retrospect it wasn't.) I saw pretty faces, handsome ones and some very serious ones. I saw eyes glinting with naughtiness and some with eagerness. I tried to take it all in, but it was a blur.
I kept trying so hard to connect with them and I cracked some stupid joke (Its me. It had to be stupid.) and I saw many of them smile. I sighed with relief.
I could do this.


krupa

P.S. I still wonder what sort of impression I did leave on them that first day. I guess I'll never know. Somethings are best left unsaid.

Winds of Change

"The toughest decisions in life come with a price to pay." This is how I started my resignation letter. Yup. You read it right, I quit.
Many people quit because they want a better pay, a better position and most commonly they are unhappy. Why did I quit?
I told the world it was to do PhD. I told some it was to get into college teaching. While all those options remain open and exist as options, I think I just needed a break. I find my tastes changing.
I like mint now. But that isn't the taste I was talking about.
I find myself wanting more time to do the things I want. I am not ready to just settle.
I loved my job. Don't get me wrong. It was the best. Working with the kids (though kids is a terrible word to describe that age), comfortable timings, loads of holidays, the feeling of authority, the oh-so many events to conduct, all of that is me. It is very me. But that's not all that is me. There is more.
More that I want to explore. (Ooh that rhymes. Maybe I could consider being a poet? Lyricist? )
Remember in a previous post, rant I had said I want it all. Well I guess this is my time to do it all.
That's why I quit. I don't want to look back after 10 years and wonder. No what ifs. Life is too short for that. But then again, you already know that.
I'm going to go now. Enough of ranting etc etc. Its time to get out there and make the most of my life.

krupa

An ode to friendship. Or maybe something more.

June 1st 1994 saw a little girl in a navy blue frock stand in the foyer of The Frank Anthony Public School and look all around her. This is where she was going to study now on. It as a strange feeling. She had left behind her best friends in Roxbourne First School and brought with her only her strong British accent. She entered a classroom which was full of faces and uniforms. But there was one exception. Another girl in a frock and two long plaits. She seemed more comfortable. 

This was how I met Janani.

Its been twenty years since we first met. Twenty years of being best friends. Maybe BFF isn't such a cliche after all.  From bonding over our foreign accents (only she could match my speed of talking and understand my accent. And oh, she had, has an American accent), to arguing over which guy in our class was the cutest for that day (cuteness really did not last more than a day or two tops. It changed a lot). We've fought. (Nobody really knows that). I've mercilessly joined her sister in teasing her about her need to match jeans and tee shirts, and her accent that never went away (Now its back with a vengeance). I've hated the guys she has liked (We've never fought over a guy). We've shopped together. I did her makeup for her wedding and a photoshoot? (Gosh do you remember that). We've written each others names as "best friend" in every slam book that we ever wrote. She always made the best friendship bands and a killer grilled cheese. She has baked pizzas for my birthdays and given me her shoulder when I have needed to cry. From birthday cards that are so artistic they should be framed, to hand made gifts and even a gift box with 26 gifts (for me 26th Birthday) she has done it all. 

Through breakups and heart breaks (I would still like those guys who did that to her), we've lasted. We've seen been to the beach and the mall and tons of restaurants (that may never let our gang in again). She is our reunion planner. There is no way we would find a place to meet without her.  (and I would never have had a surprise 18th birthday party)

She sings, I dance. She is the smart one. I am the hard working one. I am the girly girl and she is the boyish one. She has a need for speed (even when she was riding just a cycle). She's about experimenting. I am a creature of habit. She is logical and me, emotional.

After all this time, we are still as different as chalk and cheese. 

So its not just birds of a feather who flock together. Opposites truly do attract.
A best friend. A sister. My biggest fan. My nemesis. After all love manifests in different forms.

So look around you. Your best friend hasn't gone anywhere. And before you know it, 20 years would have gone back.

Cheers

krupa

P.S this was supposed to have gone up on June1st. Oh well!! better late than never.

After all I am just their teacher.

"Ma'am nothing what you taught came", "This was the worst paper ever", "Ma'am are you sure this name reaction is in the syllabus, none of us remember reading it". 

I woke up with a start. The accusations were still ringing in my ears. I checked the time by squinting at the screen of my phone. 4:07am. There was still a few more hours before my students wrote their exam. Why did they always have to keep chemistry as the last exam and with a two week break.? Of course no one studied for those two weeks. Maybe the last three days. I wondered if R* had finished organic and if A* had finished coordination chemistry. She really wasn't comfortable with the nomenclature. I should have worked out a few more compounds with her. Maybe a few more sums on mole concept would have really benefited the whole class. With these thoughts filling my head, I fell back into a disturbed sleep. I had been up till 1am the previous night going over the entire inorganic section with a student and having had a very restless night, I woke up grumpily and groggy at 7am. I did have to get to school and take class for the 11ths.

It was 1pm. My students were gathered on the steps and I dreaded the torrent of questions. I am not a walking encyclopedia of chemistry and when they just bombarded me with questions one hour before the exam it really threw me off. But for a change, they were silent. They just discussed things amongst themselves. I am pretty sure that I even heard some talk about basketball scores. They seemed relatively relaxed. More than I felt anyway. I sat in a corner not sure whether to enter in a discussion with any of them or not. 

It was 5pm. I must have stared at the clock for the past 3 minutes and it wasn't moving any faster than before. It really took forever for them to come out of the exam hall. With each passing minute, it felt like time was just crawling by. Crawling.

5.15pm. "Ma'am it was a good paper". I smiled, a not-fully-convinced smile. I glanced over the question paper. It was relatively easier than the last year's paper. I wondered if P* had written neatly without squashing everything together and if L* had managed to answer all of the organic. Most of them barely looked at me. Maybe one or two said thank you. And then it was over.

They all went their own ways- to eat, to play basketball or football, or to just get home and sleep. I just stood unsure of where I was supposed to go. After all, I was just their teacher....

krupa

*names changed to protect the identity

BUSY

People always ask me- Why are you always busy. I make up stuff like- Oh I'm a workaholic, I love my work, I am duty bound, a teacher's job never ends, blah blah blah. Though that may be partially true, there is so much more.
Being not busy means asking friends to meet up, going out and having some fun. Being not busy means having the time to catch up with those who matter to you. Being not busy also means getting turned down by all the other busy people. So what is the purpose of being not busy?? Just to hear every person around you say- Oh I have relatives coming over, I'm working in the lab today, I have lots of cleaning to do.
Atleast some people have the courtesy and the presence of mind to always have an excuse. The rest, they just don't reply. It makes you realise that you don't matter as much as something else does.
When no one has the time for anyone else, why should anyone else be anything but busy?
And so like always- I am Busy.

Krupa

Ten Years.

How easily we talk about a decade.

Jan 2004:
She sat in the exam hall, staring at the question paper. Vant Hoff factor. Oh come on. Surely atleast this time you know what it is. Something about electrolytes and a theoretical value. Forget it. I will never pass chemistry.

Feb 2004:
Dressed in a white sari and a candle in her hand, she looked at her best friend with tears in her eyes. School life as they knew it was coming to an end. She didn't want the evening to end. Maybe if she held on a little longer, things would not change. They all cried and hugged and promised to keep in touch.

March 2004:
Eat. Study. Cry. Study some more. Eat. Sleep. This seemed like a routine. When would these exams come to an end. Why did chemistry have to be the last paper. Stupid Chemistry.

May 2004:
Thank you God. I passed in Chemistry.

June 2004:
Me? I study at Joseph's. MCB. Microbiology, Chemistry and Botany.

June 2007:
Biochemistry is what I want appa. I am sure. No more staring into microscopes.

June 2009:
What am I doing? Oh I am waiting to do M.Phil at University of Madras.

June 2010:
I teach at Bethany High School. Chemistry for class 11 and 12 (jaws around me drop and I love that reaction).

March 2014:
"Vant Hoff factor is the ratio between the observed and calculated value for colligative properties telling us whether a solute undergoes association or dissociation in solution".  God please let me students remember this better than I did.

It has been 10 years. I have grown. 10 years it has taken for me to be comfortable with a subject I never thought I would pass in.10 years to confidently stand in front of class and teach what I was never confident about. 10 years to gain a few kilos :P 10 years to grow out of being a not so popular person into the a valuable asset to my department (atleast I like to believe I am). 10 years to discover that I could teach chemistry, dance, take photos, make powerpoint presentations, set question papers, correct answer scripts, take tuition,be the author of a makeup blog, be the editor of a newsletter, be on the basketball team, go out for coffee, perform in shows, teach dance, design clothes, shop, MC, organize events and yet have time for me. 10 years to know that there is so much more to me than what I knew which makes me realise that all my students need is a push to reach their potential.
10 years is a long time and when I look back I have achieved a lot. Maybe I could have done more, maybe I have done more.
10 years later is now.
Now as I watch my students go through their Valedictory and their Board exams I am reminded of a thin tall girl with geeky glasses and a long long skirt standing outside the exam hall with chemistry notes in her hand and fear in her heart. Now she prays that none of her students go with that fear. If only they could see what 10 years would do to them. Then again, 10 years is a long time away.

Krupa

Why I dance

Everyone who knows me, knows I dance. They also know how much I love dance. But why?
This video link was sent to me by a friend, a guy who has known me for barely a month and he yet he knows what dance means to me. This video got me thinking, why do I dance?

Dance is about the expression. 
That feeling I get when every part of my body is moving to the rhythm. 
When all I want is to let go. 
When I want to cry.
When I am happy. 
When I am frustrated.
It is about showing love and anger. 
It is about the stage, and the applause.
It for everybody but for nobody.
It is for me.

Dance is mine.
In my every breath, In my every step.
I cannot walk, I can only dance.
It travels with me. I travel for it.
The beat is in my heart.
The music in my soul.
The movement in my feet.
I dance because it is me.

All the world is a stage
A stage for my dance to be heard.
A cry for help, a tantrum.
The arrogance, the innocence.
The divine, the ego.
It all storms through me
It rips me apart.
Dance makes me whole.
It makes me complete.
Without it, I am not me.

People always leave.
My dance stays.
Till death do us apart.
Dance is me and I, dance.
This is why I dance.

At a loss for a post title..

Sitting here in the house. It all seems so surreal. The people just walked around, stood around, whispered or looked sad. This was just a bad dream. It had to be. People don't just die. They have to grow old first. They have to watch their kids grow up and get married. They have to build houses and save money. People don't just die. They have to secure the future. They have to travel and see places. They have to love and get hurt. They have to cry. People don't just die. They have to fight and laugh and shop. They have to fall ill and recover. They have to learn to drive a car and eat in fine dining. They don't just drop dead.

Oh. But they do. Death. A morbid reality. Natural death, death by disease, death by accident. Bottom line, people die. They go away. Things unsaid, faces not seen, questions unanswered, problems unresolved. They just go away. Maybe they are peaceful after leaving behind this rat race. But what about those who they leave behind. Do we say, "take us with you" or say, "we'll carry on your legacy" ? Do we smile that they don't have any burdens to carry or cry because we shoulder theirs. Or maybe we just stand silently with tears running down our cheeks, thinking to ourselves. 

What do we think... What happens next? Why did it happen? How? What the.... 

Or maybe we just are numb. 

Whatever.

Life goes on. That's how they would want it.

Author's note- This was typed on my phone at a time when I was really affected. It took me a few days to summon the courage to put it up.

P.S for those of you who are bummed out by this post. Go read my other blog.. http://ishtyleawhile.blogspot.in/2013/10/of-festivals-and-mini-giveaway.html

Lamentations of a 27 year old.

There are days, and then there are DAYS! Some days I wake up with a smile, no puffy eyes and beautiful skin that is glowing (probably because of the dream last night). And then there are days when I get up to see my face in the mirror, see wrinkles on the forehead, crows feet, and one more white hair than what was seen the night before. I really don't know how white hair just springs up overnight. It is truly amazing. But ageing is not my biggest worry. It has to happen at some point and well, more white hair, more wisdom, right?

Then there is the pangs I feel when I see my closest friends get married. No I'm not really worried that I'm not even engaged, but what if my married friends only want to hang out with other married friends because I don't have a mother-in-law/ sister-in-law worth bitching about? There is also this problem of distance because these married people just move away to other countries. That is also not my biggest worry.

Who am I? That is a question I found an answer to some time ago. A 27 year old with a 16 year old inside who loves to dance, cry, laugh, flirt, eat, fight and basically live life as an independent woman. So  no, I am not worried about soul searching. Kind of need to have a soul for that first. But we'll get to that later.

What worries me the most is what do I want from my life? If I was to make a list, this is what it would sound like.
I want a job that pays a truckload of money, but I also want job satisfaction. I want to feel happy that I am giving back to society. I want to dance and learn to play the drums. I want to study further and maybe do P.h.D. I want to have a social life. I want friends and time to have tea with them (coffee gives me acidity).
I want to make a difference in the lives of those I teach. I want to shop till I drop. I want fame and glory in small way, maybe just  Page 3 worthy types. I want anonymity to be able to talk about whoever and whatever. I want to be a hero, the Ironman, sorry sorry, Ironwoman of today. I want to an iron hearted woman as well unperturbed by the emotions I feel. I want to write and read and blog. I want to be a makeup artist and a choreographer. I want to be a party planner and also to bake cakes. I want to travel and see the sights of Italy and Rome. I want to hike to the top of the mountains (but not swim to the deep seas. Scared of water). I want to love without the fear of being hurt (like that's possible). Ok lets, scratch from the list. I want to try making some exotic recipes (vegetarian only).
In simple terms, I want everything in the 24 hours, 7 days a week, 365 days a year that I get. So TIME is what I want the most.
I want to live each moment.
To quote the words from the song of High School Musical 3 (yes I am quoting HSM3, a kiddy/ teenager movie)-

" Don't you see that bigger is better, and better is bigger,

A little bit is never enough

No No No

I want it all"

I.WANT.IT.ALL

Krupa

Of Childhood Friendships

Childhood friend. What does that mean??
In a cinema style it would mean a girl and boy being neighbours as kids, liking each other only to get separated and find each other a decade later by means for a song or a watch or something, falling in love and getting married, and the hardships they face in the process.
In reality there are very few of us who have a friend whom we can call as a childhood friend. In the day and age of Facebook, it isn't hard to find an old friend but is sharing pictures and seeing the pages they like, what a childhood friendship is about.
No.
It is much more.
It is about all the unspoken words. It is about the thoughts you share. It is about knowing that your friend is there no matter what.
It is about being apart for years but connecting the instant you meet again. Sometimes not even meeting but still connecting through a simple mail. It is about not having to catch up.
It isn't about long phone calls and endless chats. It is about knowing that any time you want to talk, they are there. Time is irrelevant.
It is about who you think of first to share your joy and sorrow. Especially your sorrow.
It isn't about coffees, lunches or dinners or even wishing them on their birthday. It is about your saddest moments, your deepest feelings, your inexplicable thoughts. They are always beside you. With you.
Close your eyes and they are there. Understanding you even though they are miles away.

So what's our story?

My mother was pregnant with my sister (another post will talk about the sorrows and joys (?) of having a younger sister) and so we had come down to India for a few months.
Arun's family lived in the house above.
My first memories of him is the picture you see above. I think I remembered the hot pink skirt more than I remembered him, but oh well, he still fit somewhere in the memory.
After we went back to the UK we completely lost touch, though his name and his family was mentioned occasionally at home.
Years passed by, and one summer holiday, when all of us had gathered at my grandma's place for a holiday, the mamas decided that keeping these children at home was driving everyone crazy and so we went for a one day trip. On the way we passed through Palakad and stopped at Arun's house. When we entered the house, we were welcomed with hot food and the beautiful sounds of the veena. Arun was having veena class. Respect grew. We spent hardly an hour at his place and I didn't get to talk much to him. Little hard when you are surrounded by a dozen or more people.
A few years later he came to Bangalore and that is when we actually got a chance to speak properly.
Since then we've been constantly in touch. Emails, phone calls. Even when with him sitting all the way in Sweden.
Today, more than 20 years of knowing him, I can 'classify' him as a childhood friend.


Dear Arun. This is for you.
I am blessed to have you in my life.
Always have been. Always will be.

Krupa

There she goes.... My grandma.

The sun infiltrated in through the curtains and hit her eyes. She pulled the blanket further up to cover her eyes. Waking up meant waking up to the reality. Reality which had hit her hard with the cold hand of death. The void inside seemed unbearable. It wasn't so bad when she was on her home ground, but here. Every nook and cranny was full of memories. Even when she shut her eyes there were only memories.

The house was full of people. Full was an understatement. The 3BHK was bursting at its seams. All the brothers and their families had gathered. Every room had bags, every chair had clothes, and every bed and inch of the floor had someone sleeping, resting, sitting. There was a queue for everything- from the morning coffee to using the bathroom. These were only the people who were staying. There were another 70 odd people who came to visit. The supply of tea and coffee and water was never ending. Looking at all those people she realised how many lives her patti had touched.

Her patti. She would never hear her say "Kiruba" again. Never get kissed by her and crushed in her bear like hug. What had her patti not done for her.

It was because of her patti that she knew why Ganesha had an elephant's head, why one of his tusks was broken, how Muruga went to Pazhani (such a silly fight between him and his brother), how Muruga landed up with Valli and Devayani, and all the brilliant stories of Krishna and his feats. All this and more was because her patti. Who would tell her stories now? More importantly who would tell her kids all these stories?

Who would make all the cousins sit in a row and feed them dinner? Who would make the most brilliant murukku and sooji appam?

Who would tell her stories of all her naughty mamas and her rebellious mother? Who would call and then say every 2 minutes- vechitumma (Shall I keep the phone?).

All that remains now is a picture in the hall and the ever-so-wonderful never-ending list of memories. 

We are so caught up in running and keeping up with the race against the rest of the world, but the joke is on us. Because the world will never ever stop running. It is like trying to reach the end of the rainbow. There are no winners. All that happens is that we lose out on what matters most. Family. The craziness, the fights, the laughter, the food, the tears, the joy, and all the unconditional love. 

Don't wait to lose someone to realise this. Then again, realisation never strikes until you face it.

Foolish Humans, say the Gods above. 

To Arjun. On his birthday.

The best gift a person can give is their time.
What I have here is all the time I wasted to give you this awesome gift.
The fruit of midnight battle with words

10 things I hate about you.

 

I hate that you're not 'sensible' like me when I am the older one.

I hate that I've learnt more English from you than you've learnt chemistry from me.

I hate that you listen to me whine and rant, and never ever complain.

I hate that you let me be ME the whole while I am with you.

I hate that you have good taste and make shopping much more fun.

I hate that we can't have coffee any more, and yet meet all the time.

I hate that you've managed to rub off on me, as I have on you (I think)

I hate that you know what you want, and sometimes what I want too.

I hate that I completely enjoy every minute I hang out with you.

But most of all I hate that you inspire me yet leave me searching for words.

krupa

In his dreams...

Every girl dreams of being a guy's dream girl. Here is such a dream...

She looked stunning in a light sea green sari which brought out her slim figure appropriately. Not heavily loaded with jewellery, her accessories highlighted her taste in fashion and very subtly showed off the beauty of her long neck. Her makeup was well done and her sparkling eyes were not the only thing that made her stand out of the crowd. Just the way she carried herself and moved around the crowds smiling at a person here and there, stopping to adjust the dress of the kids, talking politely to elders, all this made her the centre of attraction and pulled attention away from the poor bride on stage.
He could not take his eyes off her and found himself looking at her wavy hair more than once. He admired the way she had done up her hair such that it did not fall on her face and adjusted it ever so lightly every now and then. She was a joy to watch and seeing her bubbly talkative nature he was a bit apprehensive to approach her. As he watched her from one corner of the room, he realised she was talking to all HIS relatives. Did this mean she was related to him? Oh hell no! He thought. The last thing he wanted was some uncle saying, this is your chitappa/perippa's daughter, thus making her his sister in some way. However, if she turned out to be some mama's daughter, well that could work to his advantage. Now he really needed to find out who she was. Curiosity was just killing him and as he moved closer to her, he realised there was something very familiar about her. Surely they had met before....

3 years later....

Yes it has been 3 years since I wrote in this blog. Why? because we allow ourselves to get distracted by the meaningless things around us and search for happiness in that. We forget to make time for "ME" and let the "I" rot away for the sake of "WE". All this for supposed happiness.

It is 3 years later and as I type I realise that I haven't changed much. Yes I'm older, coupla hairs greying, frown lines and crows feet appearing. but inside I'm the same. Wearing my heart on my sleeve, allowing it to be crushed by every Tom, Dick and Sally (yeah yeah I know it's Harry but it isn't just guys who have hurt me). Yet hoping that things will get better, keeping the faith alive. 

The words are flowing and I must say, I have missed this SO much!!! 

So why am I back? Good question. Life is a journey of self discovery. We're constantly searching for ourselves and in the process learning something new every day. Sometimes what we learn is not completely new, it is something we know but we'd forgotten and so it needed to be dusted out a bit. Me coming back is something like that. 

I've now been a teacher for 2 years and since I started teaching I've thought of writing about my experiences but never actually gotten around to doing it. Yesterday in the lab I mentioned to a couple of my students about how each batch was different from the previous and how I was most definitely going to write about it some day. I also mentioned that I did have a blog, and them being the curious lot that they are, asked for my blog site, and it was at that point that I realised I had forgotten the name of my own blog!!!

Well I did remember it and tell them, then i just forgot about it. Today one of them came up to me and told me "Ma'am, i didn't know you could write poetry so well. Why did you stop?"

That question got me thinking... why did I stop? I could not come up with justifiable reason and so I am back. Back with a bang, ladies and gentlemen!! Thank You very much!

Cheers

Krupa

Inside the Head

"The B lymphocytes give rise to the plasma cells and memory cells. The memory cells help to recognise an antigen that infects the body again. But yet we keep catching colds. These bloody viruses, what a pain they are. Man, I hope I'm not sick on my birthday. That's so not how I'd like to spend that day. Shucks I still have to go buy a new dress and give the salwar material for stitching. Hope that tailor is there when I go to ulsoor. Thanks to the Metro it's such torture to travel all the way there. And I don't like the way the 4th cross tailor stitches. This is why I need to go for that tailoring class. But first I need to get the sewing machine fixed. And mom's vehicle is still lying around. We should sell that. I doubt it's worth the repair. And then I need to convince dad to a get a new vehicle. But if I say vehicle, then he'll say learn car. Yeah I guess I should go join that as well. Hmmm.. I wonder if Poonam picked up the TC from trust office. It's been a while since I talked to her.Ii wonder if kavitha cleared her backs. Wonder what the girls are doing. I know shaman is working. Can't believe we're so out of touch. Ok ok. I won't go back to old stories. Thank god for sheril being around. Speaking of sheril, he hasn't replied to my mail. I bet that lazy bum hasn't even checked it yet!! Can't wait for him to come to town. I hope he stays till my birthday. Oh ya, I still don't know what to buy. Maybe I should get a top for the leggings. But I want a skirt or dress. Ok let's see. Got to work on getting perm from mom n dad for that. Not a short dress. Calf length would be jus great. Something in pastel colours and flowy. Hmmm.. I can just imagine it. This is why I need to learn to stitch. Ok as soon as I'm done with Net exam I'll go join. Ok where was I now?? Oh yeah, B lymphocytes. The plasma cells give rise to antibodies."

Isn't it amazing how the mind works so fast and connects so many unrelated things especially when one is studying. :D

kanden kadhalai= kadhalai kanden

Kanden Kadhalai or Kadhalai Kanden literally translating into the same meaning- I saw love is a remake of the hindi movie 'Jab We Met' starring dreamy eyed Shahid Kapoor and bubbly Bebo aka Kareena Kapoor. As expected many of the scenes are 'same to same' and even the costumes are 'matching-matching'. However the movie is refreshing due to the importance given to the character played by Santhanam. His scenes provide the comic relief and is a welcome change in the remake.

Tamanna could have done slightly better in the role that was given to her. There are certain scenes where her dialogue delivery seems kind of forced. However there probably is nobody else who would have been able to pull of this role that neatly. Genelia might have been a possibility, but it would have been a real challenge to carry out the sensitive serious side of 'Anjali'in the secind half of the movie.

Bharat is the perfect typecast for Shahid's role and has truly done a commendable job. It definitely takes courage for an actor to be cast in a remake especially one of a movie that did really well in the box office. There will certainly be some amount of comparison done.

The challenge of taking a successful remake lies not only in the hands of the director but it also needs to be backed by a strong script. The sound tracks by Vidyasagar bring out the fresh tones of tamilnadu. All in all the movie is adorable and highly enjoyable.

Aadhavan review

Aadhavan starring suriya, nayanthara, vadivelu and a come back from the old heart throb, Saroja Devi. A movie with K S Ravikumar direction sure has a lot of expectation. Ramesh krishna has given a typical commercial story with an introduction song for the hero and one for the heroine, and a coupla duets, some neat fights with stunts that have now become the norm. Suriya of course is upto the mark with his dance and comedy. The play on words with Mano bala is worth applauding, and vadivelu is upto his standard as always but some of the comic scenes seem like déjà vu and some punch lines are now getting predictable. Nayanthara plays more of a role in the flashback than in the present day scenario where she only provides the romantic side. The role of saroja devi makes you wonder what was the absolute necessity of that role except to provide a bit of support to nayanthara's character especially in driving away ramesh krishna, who is a potentially annoying suitor for nayanthara. The idea of portraying suriya as a 10 year old is pretty novel and makes you wonder whether he really did look like that at the age of 10. It also makes one think how is it possible that though his face has not changed but only matured over the years, nobody in his family can no longer recognise him. The climax is slightly more unbelievable than usual. If you've seen Ayan then the plot of Aadhavan is pretty predictable.

On the whole as a commercial film Aadhavan would probably do decently and will be loved by suriya fans for his acting, his dancing and his comedy. But as a story the plot is lacking any twists and turns that were not already forseen, and leaves you expecting a bit more. Looks like suriya is getting stereotyped and his movies getting cliched. And that comes from a hard core Suriya fan.

To Sheril

this is a dedication to sheril on his birthday!!

It seems like yesterday that I first saw you and admired your smile.

It seems like yesterday that we sat and broke our heads for the semester exams.

It seems like yesterday that you vividly described football to me with a shine in you eyes.

It seems like yesterday that we chatted about my ignorance in movies and music.

It seems like yesterday that I had my first hookah with you.

it seems like yesterday was my birthday that you guys made so special.

It seems like yesterdaythat we discussed your plans of going back home.

But it seems like forever since we've been together.