The simple Graffiti man of Chennai

It was a text from a close friend who is also an HR head in a non-IT corporate that brought up this barrage of memories about a particular sight that we used to often subconsciously ignore, because we have seen it so many times on almost every free square inch wall of Chennai.

This was the exact text – "Hey hi, Sorry to text so late… Can you pls share any contact for organizing kids events at corporate shows". This obviously was a late night text and I was dead tired, as I was returning home after yet another shopping parade for furnishing at home. This text brought a smile to my face – this friend who texted me was my first boss in the organisation I had started my career first and is a friend, philosopher, guide kind of person and one strong member in my circle of “girl friends”. The number of escapades and the fun we have had together in the organisation we worked next ( oh yes, we worked together subsequently in yet another organisation too, for almost 13 years) is countless.

Infact, the 100th post was dedicated to my “Gurl friends” and you can read it here . I honestly feel this was the most underrated post of mine. ;-(

Dragging myself back to the current post – this message as I was telling you brought this smile because I remembered a name out of the blue and I immediately messaged her back and this was my reply.

P James Magic Show

And we had a great laugh together. Oh not P James and me, I shared the laughter with my good ol'friend.

It was one such kids event that this friend in discussion and I were organizing in our earlier organisation, for the children of employees somewhere in 2003. We couldn’t find a person who could entertain the kids and we actually called P James Magic Show.

I have very clear memories of two things that he brought with him – an undersized coat that he wore during the magic show which had accumulated dust from half a century and a barely alive snake, that even I was not scared of it. The magic show itself was kind of mediocre, for corporate standards, but it definitely entertained the little ones. I remember discussing about helping this guy with more contacts from our corporate friends, he seemed to live in a state of penury with a large family, but I do not remember what we did for him. I remember he was an educated chap, but chose this profession that was kind of ancestral – his father and grand father were magicians. He also told us how he goes around Chennai city in the night, on a bicycle and paints the graffiti himself without any help.

If you have ever lived in Chennai, probably a few years back, you wouldn’t have missed this graffiti of P James magic show along with a phone number on the walls of Chennai. This guy believes in marketing by spamming on the walls of chennai. It was difficult to miss these stuff then on the walls, junction boxes and literally everywhere. I was surprised to see a Wikipedia link to P James Magic Show, that you can see here. Having seen and interacted with this guy, its so amazing to see the crude kind of hard work he puts in to manage his living. And in a way, created one of the sights and memories of Chennai for some hardcore Chennaiites like me.

If you look into the comment section of the posts of  Doing Jalsa Showing Jilpa blog of Krish Ashok, here, who calls himself a humorist and blogger, needless to say he is a very popular blogger, ( and I really like his way of writing), you will find comments, which simply says P James Magic Show. Goes on to show the impact this guy and his marketing technique has had on chennaiites. I am sure that comment is put up there by some mutual fan of P James and Krish Ashok :-)

Wonder what Kennedy aka P James is doing right now.

Laughter – the best medicine.

I am sure we all agree laughter is the best medicine. But the time and place has to be definitely appropriate otherwise the one who is laughing will make a fool of oneself.

Have I told you before, that I rarely miss my Sunday Mass? There was a time when I used to attend daily mass, but for whatever reasons, laziness being the best of all reasons, I have not been able to continue the practice.

A little note to those who do not know about a Mass  is all about – A holy Mass is a religious practice as ancient as the catholic church itself, that I belong to, and is the central act of worship for us. It generally lasts for an hour or so, and includes bible readings, sermon and a communion service lead by a Priest or a deacon. According to the church a Sunday mass is an obligation that every Christian has to fulfill and being raised by staunch catholic parents, I have till date relentlessly followed this practice of not missing a Sunday mass. Of course, I have missed some Sunday masses when I was sick or lets say if I was travelling, but otherwise it is a strict no-no, not just out of practice, but because of the energy and strength I derive out of a mass. A Sunday mass, keeps me going through the week and if I do not attend one, there is this big feeling of guilt that consumes me for that entire week.

The mass is also the time, when I do not attend any calls. To me, it is the time I am with the creator and that time is dedicated only for my LORD. Most of the times, I leave the mobile in the car and never bother to even take it to the church.

Luckily for me, J also has similar backgrounds, and would never miss a Sunday mass, but going for daily mass is definitely not his cup of tea. Oh, and there is yet another thing, Both Dennu and Joe, hate sitting for a mass in the front rows – I am yet to find out the reason for this but they warn me not to sit in the front rows. Given a choice D would be a back bencher, but J would love to be in the centre and become one in the crowd. I prefer to be seated in the front ( not exactly the first row, but definitely in the first five rows). Joe tells D, If you allow your mother she will  be on the altar with the priest :-) which is truly an exaggeration.

The Mass also involves a fair amount of singing songs, primarily by the church choir, and the laity sing along during the service. I am familiar with mass in the latin and Syrian rites ( they are different forms of mass) and well versed in English, Malayalam and Tamil forms of mass. Oh I do actively sing along in the mass. Not that I am good at singing, infact, I am not even a great bathroom singer, but Church is always an exception. Its not to evaluate my singing, but I sing for my Lord and I don’t care who is next to me, because in a church it is just between me and the Lord.

J puts up with my singing, because I give him all these fundas and he is kind of sold on them. Dennu sometimes rolls his eyes and keeps laughing at me, but over the years I have learnt to  ignore his tactics. And he does not get any support in this matter from his dad dearest.

So, this Sunday as usual, I was belting it out in the church. Dennu was next to me, probably rolling his eyes, which I didn’t realize. Towards the end of the mass, during the final song, he came close to me, and whispered, looking at the crucifix on the altar – Ma, he is already bleeding, and if you sing anymore you will find him missing on the cross !!

Took me a few seconds to realize what he was saying and the context, but after that I could not sing ‘coz I was laughing uncontrollably, despite the stares from J :-)

Some trivial stuff

Eat, Pray, Love- the beautiful book by Elizabeth Gilbert has been going with me for a long time now, wherever I went. My son, commented the other day, how long have been reading this book ma? I took an atrocious 3 months or more to complete this book. I enjoyed this book and loved the way Liz could just put down all about her without inhibitions for the whole world to see. This book is an extensive, i guess unadulterated account of her very extraordinary journey for more than a year to three different places.

Some day I wish I could do something like her - travelling for my own sake. :-) I still dont know if I would even enjoy that, but I know if I have to travel it would be across Europe, a back packing trip.

What struck me most was this Italian term Attraversiamo which means Lets Cross over.

I have been lately struggling with a specific relationship with a long time friend. I know we were drifting apart for some time now, but the question is am I giving in too much to keep that friendship just alive. I am not even able to make out if it is an one sided effort. I find myself at an impasse with this friend.

There seems to be a hundred reasons for me to give up on this person, but am I, the only person looking for that one reason to keep this friendship going? To what level should I give in? I keep telling myself, that I do not expect anything out of this friendship, which to a large extent is true. But when you do not expect anything from a friendship, you dont expect to be hurt either, dont you?

I dont deny the fact that there are some wonderful memories that I cannot afford to forget or be thankful for. and the best part is this person has no clue on how I feel, and that is solely because I dont let this person know - my point is may be I am not comfortable with letting this person know how I feel.

Doesn’t that mean, its not a strong friendship? Doesn’t that mean this relationship is falling apart?

I can fight my gut out with my 'true' friends, and go back with a sheepish grin anytime. or I can just decide not to speak and tell my true friends that, and I can undoubtedly believe, that when I make that one call, after months, my true friend will pick that call, even if its midnight and say ' so your time has come baby?' and go on like there was not a break. My true friends figure out there is something wrong with me when I utter the first word.

True friends are a blessing. I try hard to be that true friend to most of the people I believe are my friends.

I wish I could do the Attraversiamo. To just move on, to get to another place, leave behind some good memories of a happy friendship.

Attraversiamo, my friend - Let us cross over. I dont want to get hurt anymore, or dwell on negativity, just trying to keep an one sided friendship alive.

P.S:

I keep most of my confusions / doubts / fears and transitions to myself. Some of them surface in my conversations. Very few come up in my blog.

I would get over this too. :-)  It may take a while longer to get over Liz though!

Failures can be sweet too!!!!

This little incident happened  few months back ( took some time to make it to the blog ) - it only goes to show that this failure has been a memorable one.

It was yet another casual weekend at the apartment that I used to live in.  It simply means I am caught up with my OCD ( Obessive Compulsive Disorder) of cleaning and organising my home.  Joe tells me, the only thing you do not do during the cleaning spree is to lick the walls clean.  ha ha ha.  I am glad he notices a cleam home (note to self - you started digressing again)

This apartment where we used to live then,  is a condo, where most of the residents are young parents with children mostly in the age group below 13 or 14.  The best part of living there was when I come back from work, I get flocked by an army of little girls with whom I chat for  a while.  Most of these girls are 9 - 12, with such beautiful names like Kaniskha, Shruthi, Payal, Neelambari ( Neelu in short) to name a few. 

Before going any further, have I ever told you all I love little girls, in any form or shape or size?  My heart goes wobbly when I see them smile and I go completely berserk when I see them chatter.  Maybe, because I do not have a daughter, I go a bit overboard when I see a girl.  I am blessed with a niece last March and I totally adore her.

So, as I said when I get back from work these little girls who are generally chatting up or praticing some dance sequences in the basement car park, adjacent to the Park in the apartment come running upto me, waving their hands with a big smile, and most of these kids have a very good dress sense, Just love the way they dress and walk around - little girls in micro mini shorts are the best.  they call me  aunty and they have all kinds of questions for me, what have I done to my hair to make it straight, where do I buy my clothes to why I am still wearing the ID card - they have even asked me where I have taken the pic on my ID card.

I love that chatter - typical of girls.  Its like the tinkle of the glass bangles, like the pitter patter rain on a tin roof - pleasant to the ears - oh how i miss it these days.  I plan to go one day in the evening to the apartment, just to meet my young friends.

There are also days that I am their referee in their little arguments, some days I got to choose the best step of their dance for their programmes at school, and sometimes I teach them little games that they can play.  Whatever, I used to value this time so dearly.

One of the weekends, during my usual cleaning spree I came out of the apartment to put the garbage in the common bin which is on our floors' lobby overlooking an atrium.  Thats when i saw these little girls outside my door in a huddled discussion and the moment they saw me, they came around and wanted to know what  Iam upto and I had to explain.  I was checking with them on what they were upto ( curious me, becuase all of them had a Dupatta  ( long piece of cloth, worn on top of an indian dress, Churidhar ) in their hands).  and they were beaming to me saying we are practicing for a fashion show, a ramp walk.

And I caught myself asking them, can I join you?  I was in my homeclothes, a denim Capri and a casual t-shirt - and got a few supressed  smiles from the little girls and they said okay aunty magnanimously.  So far so good.  Now one of my littlest of the girls, Neelambari told me you have to get a duppatta, and I was feeling a little lazy and I said my MIL will not give me one, which brought out a big chuckle among all these little ones.

So the judge for the show, I figured out it was Neelambari, youngest of the lot and I guess aged 7 years, gave us the rules, we have to come one by one to her starting from the stairs above our floor, and stairs go round this atrium, and Neelu sits in a chair that overlooks these stairs and when we come in front of her, we have to pose like the gilrs on these shows, and go back to where we started and she will give us marks.  - They were really professional.

So all of us went up to the fourth floor landing and the little ones started dressing up with the dupattas, they draped it on top their dress and they looked so pretty.  Some were so creative, they put a knot with their dupattas on their head, and the remaining fabric was held in their hands, some tucked in around their hips and we practiced how to walk, and finally we stood in height order. 

Obviously I was the tallest, and was the last one in the line - and they  began walking down with a flamboyance that beats a real model, doing the right shakes and steps, fabric fluttering in air ( all others except me), with  nose up in the air, and paused in front of our juvenille judge for a brief moment and walked back up.  I was totally enjoying this.

So our ramp-walk was over - now to the marks.

Neelu asked us all to come down : and announced her judgement.  All of you did well - she said.  So Kanishka asked - how many marks for me - Neelambari says 100 marks.  Next was Keerthana - she gets 100 marks too. two more girls, Payal and Subha gets 100 marks.  I go with a fluttering heart to Neelu and ask for my marks - and Neelu says, Aunty you didnt follow the dress code and so you get only 60 marks, with all the seriousness a 7 year old could muster.

ohhhhhhh.......  I faked a sulk and everyone came to me and said next time, we will get you a dupattah...!!

There are many times this incident has brought a smile across my face and while I thought successes gave me an high, getting acceptance into an innocent group could also give that same feeling and yes, this was a sweet failure, that I will cherish. 

Dedicated to my leetle gurl gang at GT Cholayil Residency. :-)

Its just a number folks!!!

43 is just a mere number not a mile stone. Isnt it an ugly number too?  I hate the very look of it. I don’t like it even when it is reversed to 34.

Why do I have to write about this number today?  Because, I am

                                              

Honestly where have all the years gone?

But wait,

Dont I?  and you better say "YES" cos today is my happy birthday :-)

I also realised today that,

Jokes apart,  I am looking back smugly thanking the whole universe for all the experiences that made me stronger and a better person, for a wonderful family, host of friends who surround me with love, my new found fellow bloggers ( this is the first year I am celebrating it with you all), sanity and contentment in life.

That reminds me,

Hey have you heard this saying, a diplomat is one who remembers a woman’s birthday but not her age. I hope the readers of my blog are diplomats. :-)

and incidentally,



Yay Yay Yay

Folks, I got to tell you all something..

Actually two.  but I will save the first one for yet another post, and tell you the second one first.

The Std XII results for Tamilnadu Board examinations was announced today  and I  hope you  remember the SOS that I  had put up here in my blog earlier.

I remember vividly that many of you wished me luck and also added that I needed it more than Sonny boy.  You know what,  you were right.

To tell you the impact of the announcement that i am about to make,  I need to give you a little background on how my sonny boy approaches exams and education in general.

Maybe I should  make it crisp - otherwise I will make it a painful read for all of you.

1  All these years in my sons life, he has never come across a difficult examination - every examination is easy and he has done it well.  Period. 

2  Results are for the parents and not for him.  He will do what best he can do and rest is for the parents to figure out and bother.

3  When he was in lower classes, and later when he was in the higher grades too, he would ONLY attempt the one word answers like fill-ups, match the following, one word answers etc, that demands just one word as an answer.  anything beyond that is not worth his efforts.  ( Mind you, even if he knows the answers, they will not be attempted.)  And for the question how have you done your exams, the answer is in point no 1.

4.  He could never understand for a very long time, why I make a big fuss about his marks, when he has passed in an examination.  for example, if i ask him Dennu, you got only 70% in Math, the typical answer is yeah Ma, but the pass mark if 40% and I have got so much more than that. 

5.  An answer sheet does not need margins, date, question numbers, why it need not even need the name or roll number.  It is the teachers job to fill those in.  Atleast one of these will miss out in every answer paper.

6.  The most  important thing  in an exam is how fast you complete the paper.  Nothing else matters.  oh.. while we are at this, the remaining time of the exam should be used to draw really cute cartoons and decorate the question paper.

7.  Once the exam is written, it is over and done.  No discussions about it at home.  Point no 1 is valid and no more questions on that.  Its out of our hands ma, so why discuss about it.

8.  He can choose not to write answers to complete sections in a question paper for no obvious reasons, because he does not feel like answering them.

9.  Reactions to answer sheets bearing 20/20 or 10/50  or 5/ 25   in any subject is similar.  All excitement / frsutation is for Mamma.  Dennu you got full marks in Math today ( Mamma digging his bag) will bring a distant look and yeah, so what? kind of look.  An yelling saying "  What sort of a mark is this Dennu? " will bring the same earlier reaction.  His general policy is Never to be excited in life about marks.

10.  Like most normal mothers, I would ask, Dennu, how much did Abhi get? how much did Rohan / Sam / Eugene get?  and the typical answer would be, Ma, I dont peep into others marksheets.  I only know my marks.  that will not deter me from asking this question again to him during the next examination.

ps:

a. Handwriting just does not matter wherever it is written.  I normally call his HW a fowlscratch.
b. For that matter spellings do not matter either.

c. Just the day before his examinations, most of his books do a walkout from his bag. 

You get the general drift to the attitude of my  little one?

So I had to take leave for a month and a half, and sit with him doing absolutely nothing other than make him study for his 10th Standard board exams.  He managed to get 79 percentile and he was very happy with it.

For the higher education, we knew this is not going to work and so we ( read it as most willy parents)applied a different strategy.  We shifted his school  where the new school (aka Jail) will do the job of the parents.  We only had to feed the school with cash.  the rest would be taken care. 

So when the new school commenced, for std XI, I had strict orders from hubby dear not to get invovled in his studies. No more teaching him at home - he has to fend for himself and teaching him bascially is not a scalable model. I agreed to that point, knowing my limitations

Initial couple of months was an emotional struggle for all of us.  New, impersonal and a stricter enviroment is not too kind with a teeenager.  Acceptance does not come easy.  The students have their territorial issues - new gangs, new friendships.  I could see him wilt some days.  All could do was to silently pray for him and talk to him even when he didnt want to.  He used to clam up and breaking into that silence without aggravating the situation was difficult for me.

We had to shift our house cos the distance to the new school was taking a toll on the little one. Within weeks we were into a new house. That made things even worser.  He lost teh neighborhood freinds too.  The school didnt make it easier either for him.   Their regime was tough.We had to find new ways of entertaining him without going overboard.

He would plead to us to put  him back to his old school  where he had his "real" freinds.  We allowed him to visit the old school and freinds once in a while.  We took turns to talk to him and keep him motivated.  Most conversations will end up with - You will never know how I feel.

J & I had debates on whether we are doing the right thing.

I saw the difference in the first six months.  For the second PTA, I couldnt recognise my sons answer sheet bunch.  I took one look at an Immaculately written answer sheet complete with name, roll no, date, neat margins ( that too in two colours) and said no, this is not my sons papers.  The poor teacher kept it back and had to do a good search and again looked at this bunch and said Ma'am but this is your sons papers.  Triust me I teared up  just looking at his answer sheets.  With special permission from the class teacher, I took it home to show it to hubby dear and on the way back home checked it a couple of times again to confirm if it is my sons papers.

 

From the time he came into Std XII things started to change.  He had a gang of his own.  Talks and conversations about earlier school lessened.  He started to study on his own.  Didnt want me to stay up late with him. He started discussing about what he wants to do in future.  he spoke about his friends' ambitions  and plans.

 

But, you see, we had 10 plus years of his attitude stuck on to us.  We, the parents, were sceptical.  Not too sure if he will get decent marks. 

 

Today, as I said earlier, Sonny boys results were announced.

 

He has scored 85% - making us gasp for breath in disbelief.

 

From morning Joe and I have been talking to each other atleast 10 times.  ( oh we never do that - once in between in a day would be the max). We are excited.  There are scores of phonecalls congratulating Dennu and ofcourse, us.  I am the happiest woman today - knowing fully well, that 85% is not great marks considering todays competitive world.  But this is GREAT marks for me. for Dennu. He has toiled on his own for this.  Thank God for Big mercies in life.

 

BTW, Sonny boy as usual is a cool cat. Complete serenity on his face.  A smile.  that got a little larger. thats it. After looking at all his marks for around 5 mins, with no excitement and no noise,  back to his pastime - reading.  

 

Should check if this guy is into Yoga or Meditation.

ps 2:

Thank you  all for your prayers and well wishes.  Without it I beleive nothing can happen. 

Six Months!!!

I close my eyes every evening for prayer
Your face comes to my mind
especially when I say the prayers for dear departed
I never miss to tell God about you.

The pain is still fresh, the wounds are raw
and I miss you ever more each passing day
The lump in my throat, when I think of you
does seem to choke me somedays.

You loom large in my best childhood memories
and I feel not many can fathom my loss
the love is deep, the yearning to hold your hands even more
but with you, these are buried.

Why didnt I spend a week with you,
during all those summers when you were alone?
What stopped me from pushing everything else
and coming to you to watch  that wondrous glee?

I hate to step into that house, that I once loved dearly.
Coz when I run in screaming  "Ammmaame..."
you will not be there to ask me " Ethiyo?"
and I wont have anyone to hug and kiss.

Its six months today that you left us
and when I reach there, an empty house will welcome me
but I have a different place to go now.
I will see you at your new home - your Cemetry.

Love you Ammama,
Vincy.

17

Seventeen!!!

A sweet number.  Oh, not  my age.  Though I feel that way most of the time.  And I do sometimes behave like one.

At 5.25 am, 17 years ago, a nurse put a wet and squishy baby on my chest. I couldnt react.  I didnt even ask what baby it was.  No, I wasnt overcome with emotion to see my little one.  Infact, the nurse said to another one, please take that baby from her, she might push it away.  Actually i was in so much pain and was compeltely drained out to even look at the baby.

I remember swooning soon after that.

So it was actually a couple of hours later, when my dad came to me and said you have been sleeping (?) for a long time.  The baby is crying.  Thats when I looked at a wrinked, reddish and a cute little bundle wailing away and the glee on my mothers face told me it was a boy. 

I remember the 25year old girl transform into a woman, a mother, the time she set her eyes on this little one. and that transformational journey continues and I am so proud of being your mother Dennu.

It was this day, 17 years ago, yet another mother was born.

It was this day, this little one, taught me what parenting means,

It was from this day, I understood what my parents have done for me and what pains they have gone through for my sake.

It was this day, I realised nothing else matters in the world to me and my priority in life was just him.

and to this day, my journey has been great.

It is your birthday today Dennu, and  the day I was reborn as a mother 17 years back.

Love you baby and may the Lord watch over you throughout your life and while is  making you a better human being, let him also make me a better mother !!

Happy Birthday !!!

a meek SOS to you all

I realized that I have been wearing my heart on my sleeve especially on my blog – oh, it doesn’t hurt anyway. I only get encouraged, consoled, comforted with all the good words you folks got to say, and I may not say this as many times, but I am only too grateful to you all for the interactions, the love and the budding friendships that are emerging in this virtual space.

Ah.. I know I am getting all emotional, sentimental, lost and what shall I say.. in Doldrums? Okay, between you, me and the bedpost, let me tell you a secret.. I guess I am losing my marbles. ( If J was reading this, he would only exclaim, I am not surprised, I knew that 18 years ago )

So, why am I beating around the bush. Let me cut all the crap out and tell you all as to why I act so funny ( and this was the main reason, I dare not write a post for some time now).

Okay folks, you know what? My little one ( well, no so little though ) is writing his board examinations. The examinations are going on right now.. Yes, his TWELFTH GRADE BOARD EXAMINATIONS!. And there are a few, okay a lot of butterflies in my stomach and I am all knotted and twisted – truth be told all worried. There is no reason to be, as Sonny boy, unlike his 10th standard exams is doing a lot of stuff on his own and is focused. But you know, I am a Mommy and I guess mommies (some of us atleast) are made this way.

And I stepped into the blog today to tell you all to say a little prayer for us, yeah US. For Sonny boy to write his exams well and a l’il prayer for me, so that I don’t lose any more of my ..er.. em.. marbles :-) :-)

Longest hour

6th February 2013.

It was yet another ordinary Wednesday. Except that J came home pretty late from work the previous night and I was half asleep when he reached. Was a bit surprised that J was still sleeping when I woke up as I knew he had an flight to catch early that morning. I woke him gently and asked about his trip and he sleepily said that he trip was cancelled.

Since the slightest sound wakes him, made sure I tip-toed the whole morning when I went anywhere near the bedroom and he woke up only around 8 am. He came to me holding his lower tummy saying I wonder what it is but I seem to have pain here. I was checking about what he ate the previous night suspecting flatulence. Mornings are generally busy with working couples and we didnt have time to discuss about it more and I didnt check either.

While dropping me off at work, I felt his face was different from usual, so I asked him if he was fine. He had a grim look and said it is getting late for him.

Lunch time – I open my lunch box proud of making the lunch without help from J, and wondered if Sonny boy ate the lunch completely. I took a bite and wondered if J liked the Stir-fry I made. It was almost as if he read my thoughts – my mobile rang and it was him.

The way he called me, I knew something was amiss. There was a pause – so I asked him if he was okay. No answer. He asked me if I was free, and I told him I was having lunch, but tell me, I said, bit more worried. That’s when he said can you come to Adyar, I have terrible stomach pain. a bigger pause.

The world around me blurred. Like you see in movies everything around me was in robotic voice, including his voice over the phone. Where are you? I checked. Malar Hospital, Emergency room. My lunch friend looked at me and asked if everything is fine – I was closing my lunch box and said in hushed tone J is not well I need to go.

J and pain – not to be mentioned in the same lines. If I fuss about a miniscule bruise for a week, he is the type who would bear pain without any fuss at all. And so I know if he says it pains it must be really really intense.

I was still on phone - J who speaks normally in super sonic speed was talking so slowly that I knew he is in terrible pain. I was checking with him if anyone is with him, no answer and I heard the line disconnect.

My workplace is Ambattur (closer to Anna Nagar) and Joe’s workplace is Santhome, two corners of Chennai, roughly around 25 kms. Given the traffic diversions for the metro rail that is coming up it easily takes more than an hour.

I cannot describe to you what I was going through during that travel. I called J’s cousin who is kind of closer to this hospital to reach emergency at Malar. I was so restless. I could not even pray. I counted all the numbers on traffic signals just to distract myself. The events of the last night and the morning was going all over. I brushed every thought aside and kept myself blank. 57, 56, 55, 54, kept counting the numbers that were reducing at every traffic signal. I watched the moving traffic like a zombie. people were fading in and out of my vision.

It took an hour and 15 mins to reach the hospital – The longest one hour of my life thus far.

I ran into the Emergency ward and saw J dosing off. Shirt pulled off the trousers, shoes off. I put my shivering hands over his hair and he opened his eyes – the pain is okay now, he said. By then doctors came with the ultrasound and scan reports. It was a case of kidney stones.

We was on a heavy dose of pain killers. We had to admit him for a day to make sure the dislodged stone is out. J is now back to work and has even resumed his official trips.

I still shudder when I think of that call and that longest one hour of my life. I could only thank god that his official trip was cancelled that day and he made it safely to the hospital ( My brave man walked out of his office and drove on his own and just managed to bring the car to an halt in front of the hospital and staggered into the emergency where he could not even lie down due the intensity of the pain. While driving more than a couple of times he wondered if he will pass out.)

I truly do not know how to thank God for guiding us through this day.  Everyday now, we do not miss out on the litte niceities of every day life.  Every single day looks like a big blessing.

When did you grow up?

School bag slinging on your shoulders
You call out “Bye ma, Bye Pa”, every busy morning
I feel my heart walk out of me
Behind you, to make sure you are protected.

I see time slipping through my fingers
My little one stands taller than me today
A fine young man in the making
Like his father, maybe.

Your smiles welcomed me home as a toddler
Hugs and kisses and the need to be in my arms
Talking dime a dozen and wrecking havoc
With all the hyperactivity of a dynamite

It broke my heart to let you sleep alone
And it shattered me when you told nightmares
About the dark man in the corner of your room
Dragging your Pink Panther along in the middle of the night.

Homework, projects, studies, exams
Tennis, swimming, Karate, Cricket, falls from bicycles
Cuts, bruises, mischief, friends, crushes and our little conversations
I didn’t realize the years roll by

Today, I melt at the sight of you help me carry heavy stuff
Or when you put a protective hand around when we walk together
And when you ask, you want any help, Mamma?
Do you see me momentarily frozen in time?

In a couple of months’ from now
You will grow out of that school uniform too
And I am still wondering stupidly
When did you grow out of my arms?

Vincy Joseph

Mindless Prattle

I cannot perceive with any certainty
The frequency of your calls
that you make erratically, once in a blue moon

While I want to squeal in childlike happiness, I act casual
As if its just another random call
Although, its the most important one of all

Your voice is invariably calming
Sound of your laughter, my best medicine
And I value you immensely.

I hang on to every word, every sound
Like a rappeller hanging onto the rope
For it makes the difference of his life and death

I am heedful of every word that escapes me
For you are one who’d catch the simplest nuance
And have the ability to get under my skin

It’s all in the mind
And I end up cherishing
Even the silence in our conversations.

In spite of all precautions,

I plunge into mindless prattle
Capitulating to my vulnerability
and you catch me at unexpected moments

Yet, I may not utter any of these in our conversations
Lest I may unleash the sprite in you
And your devilry would be too complex for me to handle.

Vincy Joseph

p.s This poem is dedicated to a close friend, who is a busy entreprenuer, a globe trotter, someone who is a online social networking recluse.  My telepathy with this friend, surprises me to no end. :-)

Its that time of the year - our Anniversary !!!

This is what we told each other today, when we woke up.

18 Years!!! That’s half my age ( well, I missed an almost there ). Yet, Unbelievable.

When we started we never thought we will make it to this many years. Now that we survived the marriage without killing each other all these years ( yeah that was a possibility just with the remote of the telly), we are determined to make it as difficult as possible for each other – oh that does not deter us from living together for another 18 more years or more.

You know what, how ever hard I tried, I could not come up with a mushy mushy post today, but the fact is that 18 years still baffles both of us equally.

Okay Jokes apart, please observe a two minute silence today at 11.00 am.

And what did you think? That silence was for our 18th Wedding Anniversary?

No way. You got me wrong folks. Today is Martyrs day and the two minute silence was for our “Father of the nation”. To know more about Martyrs Day in India, go here..

I am a little disoriented with all the excitement of 18 year completion. Here is a man who grew a beard just because his wife loved men with beards, gritted his teeth and smiled when his wife cut her hair short, when he actually likes long hair, makes sure she is never alone in the kitchen, puts up with her channel surfing and watches all the crap that she watches patiently, allowed her to dream and made sure she is independent and a lot more.

I feel blessed today.  I am sure he feels the same too.  :-)

Inheritance: minus the Joy !

After  Ammama’s  demise in the month of November 2012, the world looks very different.  Even today, I cannot think of Ammama, without tears welling up and a huge lump in my throat.  Ammama is my moms mom  - The maiden visitors of my blog can view my writings about her here, here, here and here.

I was one of her favorite grand children,  ( I was the second in the list, I guess :) ) purely because of being a big chatterbox.  I would score definitely higher in that compared to all her other grandchildren ( she has 13 of them). I was also the only one probably to show affection openly, I would hug her, kiss her and when I sit next to her I keep holding her hands.  That was my way of connecting to her.

picture taken sometime in Jan2012 

There was one other thing I used to do – Earlier when Ammama travelled to cities where her children lived,  my mom and her siblings were against her wearing her traditional Mekka Mothirams.  These are unique jewelry worn by Syrian Christian women of Kerala starting from the 18^th century or so.  They are moon shaped ear jewelry  made of Gold worn on the upper cartilage of  the ear.  I have heard from Ammama that her ear was pierced when she was a little child and she used to wear  Mekka Mothirams when she was  barely 3 or 4.

She got newer and bigger ones for her marriage ( at the age of 13 ) and later in the 70’s or so my uncle changed and made them smaller as they were really big.  She wasn’t very happy about that. The Mekka Mothirams are very close to ammama’s heart and she always thought that she looked better with them.  So when her children protested to her wearing it when she was travelling,  ( purely for reasons of safety), her  heart sank. 

I loved Ammama, with or without the Mekka Mothirams but since I knew she liked it, I used to argue and fight with her children ( read my mom and uncles) to allow her to wear them.  One of my logical reasoning was that there is no one in our family who would ever wear a Mekka Mothiram and so wherever she is, she must be allowed to wear them. She is our cultural representative.  Most of the time  they gave in to my arguments and allowed ammama to wear it.  Of late, when she travelled they did not bother removing it. 

After her death, we have the 7^th day and 41^st day ceremonies in the church and at home.  I was so touched that  my older uncle and his wife stayed on at the Tharavadu, to attend mass and offer prayers at her cemetery daily for the next 40 days after her demise. Not many children would be willing to spend this kind of time for a deceased parent. After her 7^th day ceremonies, before most of Ammama’s children dispersed,  the family felt it was right that that I be given her Mekka Mothirams.  (Ammama was always a giver and she had so much to give all her children even after her death).  

The Mekha mothirams 

The Mekka Mothirams truly look strange to me now, because all I can see is an Ammama shaped void in between them. Its so painful to  look at them  and today I mustered the courage to bring them out and photograph them to tell you  the tale of Ammama’s Mekka Mothirams that I have come to inherit.  

New Year Post

2013 has arrived and we are already 10 days into the new year – nevertheless its not too late to wish you all a “A blessed New year!”

2013 brought my biggest dormant fear live. Couple of days into the new year, the 12th standard public examination Time table was released. I am sure you would want to know - 1st of March is when the exam begins. Me tensed ? worried? No you have it wrong. I am petrified. What a way to begin a year I say!

The last month was worse, if not bizarre. One of my cousins in her early thirties was diagnosed with cancer, and had to go through an immediate surgery. Before all of us cousins, got out of that shock, another cousin, a little older than me, had a heart condition that needed an open heart surgery. Unfortunately, she swapped some medication and ended up with a blood clot in the brain and had to go through an emergency surgery in her head before the heart surgery. How weird can it get?

Another young cousin, had to go through a simple gynaec surgery. She is the type who is scared of even an injection, and was very worried about the surgery. On the day of the surgery, all arrangements made, the nursing assistant called her name, and there she went – swooning down. Her pressure dropped and had to postpone her surgery. Her surgery was successful, initially, but she developed some complications later and had to come under the knife again, within 3 days of the first surgery. Poor soul. My maternal uncle had to go through an heart surgery second time, due to complications, an unexpected one again.

A close friends father and another friend’s mom ( at least this one I got to hear later) were in the hospital as they suffered heart attacks. All these in the month of December, keeping us on tenterhooks.

So many families in the hospital, more than wishing each other Christmas we were taking updates from the ICU’s of various hospitals across the country. More calls were made to comfort and console each other.

Christmas was nothing but sober. Ammama, is still on all our minds and hearts, and after all this growing up, many of us feel orphaned without her. :-( a new year without Ammama - I need to get used to this.

The positive thing about 2013 is all my unwell cousins, uncle and friends’ parents are out of ICU’s, recovering well, back at their homes. So, after all the dark black clouds, time for the silver lining.

A grandchild is on his/her way – My sister is expecting a baby. Dennu, is going to be a real Big brother. My parents would be seeing a baby feet after 10 years in the family and they are more than thrilled.

My wish for you as we traverse through this year, 2013, is this - strength for the day, Rest for the labor, Light for the way, Grace for the trials, Help from above, unfailing sympathy and undying love. Godspeed.

Was at it again....

yep, yep.  I was at it again.  ahhh.. the quilling, I mean.

Today is Anita's birthday. I have written about her many times in my blog before and truly consider her a blessing. 

Quilled this card for her, which took a little over 2 hours ( my timing has improved ).  I saw her eyes fill with happiness though she had a bunch of things going on in her mind.  She was in Chennai as her father was unwell and came visiting, not a great situation to be in. 

So, here is a peek into what I did for her on her birthday.

Close-up view of the card

The inside of the card with an extempore verse for her!!

The quilled card with pearl ensemble.

Does my Geisha look good?

While I may have to take the expert help of my blogger friend Ramesh in finding if this image is that of Japanese Geisha or a Chinese Geisha, I thought I will reveal to my dear blogging community the making of Geisha -  efforts I had put in completing my latest glass painting that I started sometime back in September. Though I completed the painting some time end October, my grandmom’s demise held me back in putting this up. I just couldn’t bring myself to put this up last month.

I am still grieving, the pain is better and has turned to something that I can handle. I should thank my Joe for listening to endless stories of Ammama, which I kept blabbering late into the nights and the poor soul was making a true effort to be awake and to listen to what I was saying inspite of arriving home late from work most days after his crazy schedules. What touched me the most was when he decided to abstain from eating non-vegetarian food for 41 days after her death, which normally children and grand children do. I went ahead and cooked fish which my mom-in-law loves, and when he saw me not eating that, and knew the reason, he quietly abstained from eating that and all other non-veg stuff.

My blogger friends, let me tell you the comments that you put up for comforting me, was truly helpful – I cannot tell you how many times, I would have read my post along with each of your comments – If I can handle my pain, your words had a good part to play. Gils, Ramesh, RS, Bins and Nancy, my gratitude to you all from the bottom of my heart.

I also had friends listening to me, calling me up and comforting me during this grieving period. There was this friend from Delhi, who called me all of a sudden one day and just asked me how I am doing. If I am okay – just that. (She rarely calls me) Sumai, I still hear the concern in that voice. How absolutely loving. There was another friend, who had so much to tell me about what was happening in his life, but chose to listen about Ammama patiently and only yesterday in my conversation I had figured out that. Many such calls and messages of comfort.

So, here is a quick preview of the step by step progress of the glass painting of a Geisha ( a traditional Japanese / Chinese entertainer) carrying flower pots.

Intial stages of the painting after the outlline and some layers of crystals

The earlier glass paintings I attempted used only paint and glass as medium, whereas now, I attempted the painting with crystals - the Geisha's dress is made of crystals and glass paint. Compared to my earlier paintings my timing has improved – was able to complete this much faster. ( thanks to my art teacher, Sujatha)



Close up view of the crystals



Just to prove - I really did the painting :-)

another view of the crystals

The final completed picture

I am trying my luck now with another form of painting - Keral Murals.  Oh yes, I will keep you all updated.

Did I really do that?

I walked into an art supplies store today to pick up some art supplies (obviously – what else can you pick up from there). Just realized that I needed something to enhance my spirits and I know art is something that truly can uplift my soul. That reminds me I need to put up a post on my completed glass painting as I had promised in the post here.

Since I dropped into the store after work and I was a wee bit delayed, I was, kind of  in a hurry to complete my purchases and get back home to my son. I had not planned for this trip in the morning and thought I should finish picking up the art stuff quickly. As usual the art supplies brought in the much needed excitement and even the names of colours that I was reading out from the list that I had, Prussian blue, Sap Green, Chinese white, Gaurboge hue was giving me the adrenalin rush and I was making multiple sales people get me stuff at the same time. Completely involved in the whole process.

Amidst my running around the store, I heard a childs laughter in the background. Crystal clear, sharp and quite focused. Remember I was busy, so I didn’t have the time to look at the child, I went about my business of choosing my stuff. Burnt Sienna, scarlet lake, Crimson my list was rolling … Happy with the progress, I was now hurrying up the sales people even more. Then I needed to choose my canvas and the measuring and cutting  was delaying me further.

Through the corner of my eye, I saw the father of the child carrying the little one and the little one was obviously happy at being in the store. The art supplies store also had some toys and they were asking for some specific type of Gun and in the background again I had the child squeeling about the toy he had asked for. The sales girl had just told them that specific toy was available.

I continued with my lists, was checking if I had all the supplies in place, circling the ones in my list, that the store asked me to come back later, and I heard the child say, again in the background – “ I also know to speak in English, wasn’t that English you all are speaking?” The child was saying this in the local language. I still didn’t look at the child.

Jus then the store owner walked in and started speaking in Malayalam and I wasn’t keen on wasting time, so I kept to my English and less of Malayalam so that my business will get over. The child spoke again – “But I do not know Malayalam” in a crisp voice. Now I really didn’t have the time it was getting delayed, my 15 minute business was taking more than 40 minutes.

So I was hurrying up the billing guy to finish up my billing. Just then the father muttered something to the child, while interacting with a salesgirl, and they both left the shop.

My billing was going on and one of the sales girls was telling the billing person “Did you notice that the child was blind in both the eyes”?

The world stopped around me for a moment. I hadn’t noticed. I was so involved in myself that I didn’t bother looking at a small child who was blind. The child was sounding so happy chattering away and here I was only bothered only about “ ME”. The sales girl continued “he is studying in the first standard and sounds so intelligent”

I could have spoken to the child, told an hello, shown some care to a little one who cannot see. I was so engrossed with myself and all the little messages of a simple child just didn’t touch me – they were so close, so clear, and yet I was deaf and mute to all that.

Somehow the laughter and voice of that little one continues to ring in my ears, reminding me of how I need to move the focus away from myself and take time to look around at what life has to offer :-(