Just another day~!

5: 30 a.m:
I cut four calls imagining a non-existent alarm, but BB buzzes determinedly.

BB croons: I came over to MM's for a night cap, lets go to the beach and shoot pics.

6:15 a.m.

I am paying 100 bucks, where I would have normally paid 30 to an autowallah. Visibility is near zero at the beach and the gals are shivering.
Moi: sub-zero temperatures at office come in handy.

7:10 a.m.

We are still waiting for the mist to lift and the sun to shine. MM and BB offer silent prayers to the tsunami victims. We click away at the sand sculptures made in their honour......the sculptures look real, this city has some great artists.
I regale them of my adventure to the beach after the tsunami with the tambaram. It was very, very sad and scary.

7.15 a.m.

The sun comes out, fishermen lift their haul and MM and BB are pleased. Oh, their glee makes every useless adventure worth it.

7.30 a.m.

It is blazing hot now. And we are feeling hungry.

Me (still the MU localite): Vadapaav at the roadside?? Soup from that lady?? Sundal??
MM: Woodlands coffee.
BB: Woodlands uppuma.

Me (the 'poor' journo): Lets take a 21G and then a 27D.
MM: Auto.
BB: This auto.

8:00 a.m.

I am digging into a delicious masala dosa. BB and MM are checking out a cute guy in a jeep who looks like a photographer. Their uppumas are cementing by the second.

9:00 a.m.

Back home there is a strange calm. Well, it generally follows a storm.
Mad (sis): Dad cant find his papers. The client has an appeal at the court today and we cant reach the junior.

9:55 a.m.

The papers are made and printed. Thank God none of us chose to take over his lucrative legal practice. We would have been crucified by now. I hope brother dear follows our excellent example.

I dive into my wardrobe and locate one set of clothes that doesnt need ironing. God bless my mum for buying me synthetic clothes that I so hate and refuse to wear.

10:15 a.m.

I am multi-tasking breakfast, newspapers (shucks, that is homework) and making coffee for sis.
Where is my dupatta???

Grandmum: I just put it into the washing machine! It wasnt washed, was it??
Well, I was just trying to save some water (read: no maid at home) by wearing stale dupattas.

10:30 a.m.

Driver takes off in Schumacher shtyle when uncle's client turns up with 12 biscuit packets (buttering up the lawyer literally). Hey listen, it was sis and I who saved your appeal today!!
Anyways, now I have to catch a bus. Damn!

11:05 a.m.

I land in office, mismatched, breathless and yeah late for a production day.
But its just another day.

Copying from One is Plagiarism; Copying from Many is Research~!

What is this world full of chance,
With no time to stand and glance;

High being the expectations,
To hell with the combinations;

If you think, you aren't free,
Imagine the conditions on me!

Beware - if your grades are random,
High be the possibility you abandon;

Lest, you don't take note of this caution,
I advise you to think and take Poisson.

Or perhaps, Chi, Anova or T-test,
Whatever suits one best.

Drained of devising arguments?
Try research methodology for advancement!

~~~
If you are wondering how this sounds light years ahead of my "cat, rat, bat, sat" - type rhymes.....think no further. Its mekie's musings on probability and statistics and I merely tweaked it to suit me. Anyways, I was plagiarising~!

at twenty-three~!

With so many friends celebrating being twenty-three with me....
it was time for a rhyme or three!

~~
Twenty-three is so carefree....
foot loose and fancy free!

Lets climb up a tree,
or go on a sand castle spree.

Drees like the american cree...
and go chasing a bee.

The world in a whole new light shall we see,
and explore with newfound glee.

Sail across the blue sea,
and celebrate that we are still wee.

At twenty-three!

romie ;)

December Days

"Margazhi is here", cooed an RJ today morning. I completely agree with him. This is the only time of the year when one completely delights in being a Madrasi - music, mist and monsoons galore.

Watching his fire. pic by me

You and I

Pic by Meg, Hyderabad

pain is beauty, beauty is pain

"no pain..... no gain," intoned the wisp of a girl at the beauty parlour. she nonchalantly plucked away at the jungles on my forehead as I sought escape. back home.....I am red, mum is glad and lil' bro is sad (sans my whiskers, I no longer resemble him).

rueing over my still-throbbing temples, I cant help realising that beauty and torture seem to be ancient friends. history stands proof:
chinese feet binding methods that broke the arch of the woman's heel,
the tamil 'tondais' that dragged a woman's ear lobes until her neck;
tattoos and scars for good luck and the painful piercing of lips, tongues and ear-lobes.

while most are testimony to specific rites of passage and cultural pride.....I cant help realise that such twisted ideas were invariably used against women. Chinese nobles who insisted that broken heels resembled lotus flowers were after all jealous and wanted their women to stay put; while scorching marks burnt a forced identity on many a tribal woman.

It isn't any easier for the millennium woman who is expected to create the same mirage with pointed heels and long earrings. Look at this: an aromatic facial will mean that you can't take an auto for the rest of the week. But that should fit well into one's work-out regime.

For cosmetics that promise flawless skin in sooty metros, waxes, pedicures and manicures.....banks will have to offer personal loans. And does any insurer realise how life threatening a pointed heel is on broken pavements?!

any feministic sisters out there?!
romila :(

mekie is the best....

A something written for mekie early today morning....
the wonderful weather was responsible for this.
~~
how do I describe mekie...?!
by her name that speaks of mystique and subtle strength?
or by Popocatepetl that describes her awe for fabled mountains.
maybe the lost submarines that make her want to fathom the deep seas
or the islands and hills that she has never really returned from......

do I compare her with...
Jeeves for his refreshing wit?
or Katy and Anne for their child-like charm?
maybe Dara Shukoh for his legendary courage.

should I simply say about her work....
its cheerful vision for children, and her honest simplicity in research.
and her faithful cycle that lets the wind blow her hair,


do I recall the walls we scaled or the stories shared?
the dreams we coloured or the growing up about which we are sad? disovering the Red Indian Chief, and Riot's grief.
old world grace and a crossword phase.
childhood memories and youthful stories....

I honestly don't know..... because mekie is everything and yet beyond as well. And when I know, I am sure I won't find the words.


romie (still thinking)
love you meks, have a great day and wonderful year ahead~!

I simply couldn't resist putting this up.....ode to an icon~!

Courtesy: Ayyappan 'sir', IE.

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

Blog bubbles~~

Once a blogger, always a blogger.

Story books, sights, sounds, people, hoardings, monsoonal rains, hot coffee....everything seems to have a story to tell.

I am holding my horses so that I dont waste time ranting....but let me leave the many thoughts that I want to blog about.

Grandmum's sickness, old age leaving its trace; the velveteen rabbit - a touching bedtime story; monsoon fury; obelixisms; baran - the rain, an Iranian docu; climate studies; a lukewarm chak de; tehelka's sting...... working on holidays, sun and sand and woodlands, remembering tsunami.

bridget jones and chick lit, margazhi and karthikai and december, film on identity crisis, a ride on the mrts, an angel in Ethiopia- Dr. Catherine Hamlin and pheronemes (have I spelt that right??)

lest I forget,
romie ;)

friends for life

A something written for cheryl and also adapted for shalu....
dear, old, priceless friends with whom I am sadly out of touch.

I may not always tell you,
But always think of you.

A swear – imagine Cheryl's face;
Cheryl-ism, thingy, thought, colour, style…
easy disposition, personal touch in every move.

So much to share: writer-isms, office fundas,
blackmailing aunts; colourful gossip, dreams, news, a song;
rhymes, stories, histories; the many layers of everyday life.

So much to tell, so little time.
Mea culpa! Not a fault so sublime.

Excuses, I have none; not work, not french;
not news changing by nanoseconds;
not the many roles or the many worlds.

Old sayings, dad's words, world truths;
bitten off more than one can chew;
greed-driven ambition, distant dreams.

I can burn fingers even strain liagaments;
but not let dreams fade untried.
rest without doing my best.

When I do what I have to,
I always think of you even if I don't tell you.
and know that you are there too.

lotsa love,
romie ;)

Sister's two are we....alike as blossoms on a tree. - Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni

My sis celebrated her bday on a different continent and I am yet to complete making her bday gift. A thought that was penned down as she touched a landmark.

~~~
As kids, the 20s were mature, serious and lifetimes away.
Never imagined ourselves beyond 19. Bliss!!

Today, I can hardly accept being 23 and 25; feels like somebody else.
We never renewed our synapses after 12.

I still want to play hide-seek but this time beat you.
Feel the wind on our hair and turn and share a laugh with you.

Blow bubbles and play an imagined game.
Appreciate a classic and yet howl over cartoons.

Its time for big things, big dreams but I want no big responsibilities.
Glory in being a black sheep and never let monotony take over.

I dont want to be a slave to conventions but master of my destiny.
I want to do one big thing but dont know what.

At 25, there is so much to do and still so little time.
And when you are 25, I feel it too.

It is time for contemplation and also celebration.
Also to make choices...

To either be led into the mainstream or to hold high against the tide.
And when you do what you have to do, I will simply follow you.

-romie ;)

Writer's itch assaults blogosphere.

Alter Ego: So what do you think you have been doing??
Romila: (innocently) Why, just a few blogs.

AE: So why spam inboxes???
R: Just passing around the word.....cousins, uncles, close friends, accquaintaces; who might want to hear from me.

AE: Might......and getting nonsense out of your system into an inbox isnt an option.
R: (meekly) thought would spread the word.

AE: About what..... rocket science??
R: (helplessly wordless)

---

R: But I got some feedback, you know.....
AE: Remember, feedback is not a feature of mass communication. If you want it, here is some: Gmail helps people block pesky mailers.
R: (Gulp!)

AE: Ranting on blogosphere is bad enough.
R: (Hiccup!)

AE: Use winks of spare time at office 'READING'.
R: But....but, I want to write.

AE: To bore people and advertise idiocacy? If you have a compulsive disorder, stick to blogosphere, dont spread it all over cyberspace.
R: (meekly)...okay.

AE: In the impossible case that someone wants to hear from you, there is always the link. Unlikely scene anyways.
R: If you say so.

AE: You sound quick today.
R: Thanks.

-----
Thats all there is folks, thanks for having patiently been with me as I faced the writer's itch. And for all those polite replies. Hereafter its only blogosphere that will have to bear me. Thanks a ton.
goodbye!
romie ;)
http://ourblagh.blogspot.com/

20-20

Fans hanging precariously on medians, gates and window-sills,
Acrobatics outside television showrooms.

Drivers slowed buses to a crawl to read the score
Crackers made feverish sales.

Mysterious illness afflicted office goers who stayed at home,
Brothers' phones disappeared into oblivion

One pal walked into the loo and lo....Sreesanth magicked the wicket.
Lock the lucky fella in the wash room! A divine spot to pray for deliverance.

Women gave up soaps and served curd rice.
the boys needed all the prayers.

Dead silence after the last over,
we were still catching our breath.

And then a wave broke,
My thiruvanmiyur pal mistook it for a tsunami!

Colour, cracker, cheer and cricket bats celebrated.
Team India won 20-20!

;) ;)