Copyless, gormless and priceless....

Having checked my eight email ids and read an additional newspaper for today and finished some captions for day after tomorrow's story.....I conclude that I am at the moment
- copyless, gormless and priceless!!

So here goes, my very own slam inscription!!

I am

grammatically challenged
around the middle widened

a "smashing" rider
and a green scavenger

mathematically zero
and domestically a nero

a mean editor
with many an error

a financial goose
and Potter muse

a silly twit
with many a zit.

a strange kid
as my parents said.

- romie ;)


me, lost in madras history at the fort st. george museum

Music and monsoons!!

Sundays are my days......no matter how heavily rain god decides to come down, I insist on having my way. So despite a strongly-brewing cyclone, a fallen tree on Spurtank road and "are you mad...in this weather" dialogues from my folks, I went ahead for a story-telling programme at Alliance with Meg and not-so-lil bro.

Meg is a sport but lil bro is a "I dont mince my words" critic, particularly if it is one of my schemes. So he smirked at me for most of the show.

I withered under his gaze and rightly deserved it....the 'prince-and-the pearls' story felt like watching rain ruin chennai's miserable roads; the 'saas-bahu' piece felt like damp clothes all over the house; and the 'guru-shishya' one, bleak as a power cut.

But Vedanth Bharadwaj's music that was offered as a commercial break proved to be the "wells and reservoirs are full after rains" kinda news story amidst the milieu.

Familiar notes from Indian poets delivered in his great voice wiped the smirk off my bro's face. And a tamil song "ennamma thozhi" about loss and love finally managed to uplift us from brooding about the maddening flood outside.

It was worth braving rain god's wrath and all those uncovered potholes - by now turned into unholy springs of rain water and sewage. But just like the advertisements, however better scripted than the sunday-evening film on tv, Vedanth's session was short.

The stories were definitely warm and grandma's stuff for lil kids, but not in the league of bro and his generation's idea of 200 per cent entertainment.

While story-trails and Vijay who want to revive the tradition of story-telling put in some great effort..... it did not match up to the standards of other home-bred story-telling geniuses such as Jeeva Raghunath.

Story trails' sensitive and timely standing ovation to the audience for making it to the show was the silver lining. Water logging at Alliance went up by atleast half a metre by the time the programme was over and we had to call meg's bro to bail us out with a car! But hey....it was worth it.

~~~~
Vedanth, who succintly compared a musician's trade to the weather outside, has put together a CD - 'Mati Kahe'.

Its a good buy and a compilation of numbers by the Bhakti saints - Mira and Surdas - remember those horrendous music and bhajan sessions back at school. Vedanth actually uplifts them and makes it sound great.

Also we found that "ennamma thozhi" (http://www.youtube.com/user/rajesh29dec) was originally sung by Bindumalini, our Loyola-NID pal. Bindu claims that a five-year-old who came to her for music lessons taught her this number!

The day just got better and better! When we reached home, I passed dear brother a glass of warm milk with some 'grow-up' looks!!
romie ;)

Update: 'Ennamma Thozhi" will feature in a new Tamil flick Kaatru Pani. Some lines have been added though and as B says, maybe the song with its four-line verse was just perfectly incomplete. But then, its cinem-ah.


Picture: Jeeva Raghunath performing at a theatre workshop at AFC. Credit: Moi~!

Pakistani Posts

With emergency comes a spirit of awakening and creative outlets find their way despite all checks. Pakistani blogs such as martial law and fast rising stand witness. With GEO and ARY shut down, these bloggers truly Pak's reporters sans frontiers.

Run by student groups from the some of the prestigious B-schools and univs, they illustrate that no matter what class or lifestyle you belong too, undemocratic ways strike a dischordant chord with the human spirit.

Names such as 'Emergency Times' are really apt......as they give practical tips and on-the- ground-insights of recent happenings. Their posts range from a list of to-do's in case of tear-gassing: carrying wet cloth and salt to wearing running shoes; to a catalogue of their inspiring uprise: mass protests, candle-light vigils, documentary and film screenings. They have their preamble and an apt tag-line - "please photocopy and distribute".

Their spirit and courage rubs off on not-so-far-away readers such as myself too. Imagine what impact it must be making back home?! But how long will it be before Mush cracks down on it as well?? Will these bloggers be harassed and imprisioned as human rights bloggers and activists are in China?? Will they try enforcing a forcible ban as they tried once here in India?? Will google share user-info as it does in China??

Are there any blog movements and activist expressions here to support their movement??
lemme know!

On a lighter note:

Another Paki case that illustrates that no matter what, we will still express ourselves is truly exemplified in this story.

Here is a man who sensibly makes his cafe's menu a political science class. Civil Junction, Arshed's Islamabad cafe, provides food for thought literally.

The menu here includes items like: Musharaf Guespresso - Not old; anybody's guess! Seasoned & intensely mature! Khaki, softly firm, brewed under high pressure of discipline. It's base is very, very strong and the real kick is in the aftertaste! Served with handpicked cookies.

Others include - Civil Military Mix aka dudh soda - A Pakistani household offering of sorts! Meek and mild civil milk is mixed with uniformed but effervescent soda.

Surely, some great spirit of this sort, sprinkled with thoughtful humour a la Arshed style and concerted action should see Pak through this emergency. I have heard thats how we tided over ours, but I wasnt around then.
romila ;)

Of bits and rain drops

Waking up with the scent of rain was divine and poetic.....
I naturally wanted to squeal across to all my "vetti" friends across the globe in dry Texas and frosty Manchester with a gmail status. I am just too lazy to remember another twitter password.

But try as I might, google could not find one decent Indian folk song on rain in the world wide web. But it was very helpful with info on rain-songs (read heroines in flimsy saris doing their jatkas in the rain).

The alternative was to put together words and thoughts from Tagore and Kajiri, who sings of her seperated lover to the dark clouds. I could have written something completely original, but I guess its the sub-editor in me that prefers Ctrl+X/C/V.

~~
I wake and a south wind is madly making free;
its fragrance drifts and fills the darkness all around me.

The rain drops fall softly ....
singing the songs of Kajiri~

blog buzz

Post some rave reviews and a colleague's recommendation I read the compulsive confessor....boy, and am I hooked?! It was quite like Advaita Kala's "almost single" and I loved that as well for its wacky sense of humour and detailing. A devil-may-care attitude and liberal peppering of humour makes the compulsive confessor quite un-navigatable.

A link from hers lead me to sakshi juneja's blog and that was quite a good read too. If Sakshi is current with its and bits of news and humour, the Confessor is clairvoyant, legilimency and pscyhology her strengths, not to forget some great language! Also both single women share their experiences of the M-word, now that's something most girls our age can totally relate to.

I am also quite envious of the time and love these two seem to shower on their blogs.....posts after parties at 4, in drunken stupor, in between filing copies and attending weddings, after a break-up, between a book, from work, party and play!!! Not to forget the personalised design part! A world revolving around a blog!

In comparative pity I look back at my own little journal. Less said the better. While I really am inspired to dust off my 'little miss sunshine" shoes and rip apart cultural acts and hypocrisies.....I am yet to manage the spirit. I think it is the taurean streak running strong in me. I want to meditate on daisies and doilies.

Other must reads (to whom I am quite loyal) for me each day are rustic notes and mary has two little lambs, both are real delights. Their little nuggets about life and love, children and cheer, maids and monsoons are quite heart warming. Their creative and continuous work too is light years away from my reach in the wide blogging galaxy.

the teeny, weeny, huge couch potato!
romie ;)

festival of smiles~~

Its diwali again....but then what makes every diwali a great festival??
its just great people to share the joy with. great memories and jokes, great love and warmth.
great family, friends, pals and a great future to look forward too!!

And when you know that you have something like that in abundance...you cant help but feel that you are gifted above some. It also reminds me that I have to make an extra effort to share it and spread it.

Thanks people for being there always.
Thanks for making this festival of lights a festival of smiles for me!!

happy diwali~!!!
romie ;)


in the picture: my uncle checking the lamps at Rajsadan

the sibling slam book

a trim, a shave, a whiff of growing up....

suddenly we realise that we have to look up to meet his eye, realise its him with all the tricks up his sleeve; who turns a joke on us; its him who replaces the burnt bulb, who fixes PC bugs and who walks escort.

its him who delivers the best punch line, who argues with auto wallahs and gifts us on raksha bandhan. (until recently, it was the other way round)

Our talk now is about SEZ's and stings, party wear and politics, smoking and socialism. Our little man has come of age.

I recently bundled all his toys up the loft....soft clay, spidermans, aeroplanes and cricket balls.
each one brings a distinct memory: his first word, tooth, step and joke.

Born about eight and ten years apart from us, he will never cease to be the red-skinned, scrawny thing who clenched our fingers tight. But all come crashing down when you hear his voice rumbling over the phone. And you know its time to let go....

Life isnt easy for him either with three hecklers: one mom and two big sisters who act mum!! When one isnt shouting about the laundry, the other is droning about logarithms and the third locks away the laptop. A pampering grandmother proves to be the silver lining.

But what happens in his life? does he know his calculus and french verbs? does he need more space? what happens at school? ragging? peer pressure? will he talk to us about gals and smoking?

we no longer seem to know all about his life. but we hope he will take care and will be fine.

anxiously,
romila.

P.S: I will never live it down, if he ever gets to read this.

in the pic, the not-so-lil bro