Just a Jai Ho !

On Western Express Highway. Mumbai. 26th Jan '09

Slumdog Millionaire, is a well made movie. And i quite liked it. Its about India. Its about the real us. Our dreams. Our past. Our present. And about possibilities that connections in the mind can bring. There are other movies that have left a far greater impact on me, but of course, this is the one that got nominated for the Oscars. So ! Jai Ho !

On another note, a pendulum was always an object of intrigue. For it swung from one end to another. With such an alarming regularity. And yes, the only intermittent sound was from the alarm ! So have been the last few days for me. As i swung from one end to the other. With only the odd beep from the watch indicating time. Jai Ho !

We watched Slumdog Millionaire. Then a long standing dream went still. Almost coinciding with my birthday ! And then, there was Republic day. I have a thousand images to show. And a thousand more stories to tell. Some other day ! And so, I live to fight another day !

With a prayer on the lip for broader shoulders, and a stronger heart to stand up and engage what life throws at me, the resolve to stand, stands ! And of course, the belief that tomorrow will be much better, courses the veins much more fiercely ! Jai Ho !

My birthday came and went. Friends and the missus conspired to get me a few gifts. A Casio G Shock watch and Ray Ban sunglasses ! A G-Shock watch is supposed to withstand shocks and Ray Ban sunglasses is supposed to shield the eyes from harmful rays of the sun. Such is the marketing !!

But, fresh from Slumdog Millionaire, i am busy making connections. And this seems to be a connection i cant miss ! Jai Ho !

I ran to Gibran for comfort, as i do so very often. And read Joy and Sorrow !

"When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.

Some of you say, "Joy is greater than sorrow," and others say, "Nay, sorrow is the greater." But I say unto you, they are inseparable. Together they come, and when one sits, alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed"

This man has a way with his words. And has some kind of a broad band connection to my heart and soul. I smiled after a long while and went about other things. Like seeing a Republic day celebration ! Jai Ho !

Work related travel and my own mind, will keep me away for a few days. But of this, be assured.. I will be right back.

Until then...

Jai Ho !

Just a Jai Ho !

Paper Power !!

As a society, we are master innovators. And we can teach a thing or two to the world about recycling. Newspapers used as a a duster, impromptu seat cover, bed sheet etc is common place.

This gent has the newspaper folded in to his back pocket. Please desist from interpreting it as some kind of symbolic placement making a statement on the quality of current day journalism : By placing it in the rear !

No. No. Our newspapers kick ass.

Really ! Just try reading one. Any one !

This gent is all set to unfold his newspaper as soon as he gets to a bus station, lay it out on dusty seat in the bus shelter and sit down. And because his rear isn't going to take a whole lot of paper, he can exercise choice to continue reading other sections of the newspaper which are not obscured by his rear.

Like global parliamentary proceedings. And going by what transpires in the parliaments of the world, increase his 'general' vocabulary and better understand techniques of martial arts!

Actually, the list around innovations with newspapers is endless. I invite you, dear reader, to share your experiences as well !! Well, tissue paper shortages are well chronicled. So lets not go there.

Kavi's Musings had commissioned a research on 'top of the mind supplementary use of the newspapers'. This was an in-person impromptu research conducted on very heavy recyclers. And here are the results.

Top areas of newspaper recycle are :

a. 'Garbage Collection tray' lining

b. Wrapping of take aways in restaurants & making of paper plates

c. Making a statement to the neighbours on recycling ( Goes well with a Greenpeace T-shirt)

d. Making a statement to the neighbours & colleagues ( Carrying Business newspapers in your hand. And bringing them back home. Without reading)

f. Floor mat on trains when you travel long distance without a confirmed ticket

g. To be put to use on / by children for a multiple set of uses. ( Art from Waste,Sketching, Erasing, Tearing up to kill boredom etc )

h. To be used as a fly swatter on flies & other pests. Used for the same purpose on irritating, irresponsible, 'Humvee' riding husbands !

The survey respondents were told that the results to this survey was to be kept completely confidential. Any resemblance to any person, real, digital, living or dead is purely, well, almost co-incidental !

So, go ahead. Please feel free to share. What else can people do with their newspaper !?!

Paper Power !!

Fire in the well !

There was this professor in college. He taught us Operations Research. A small man who used to correct papers with that big scrawl that i always thought was an attempt to cover his 'ineptitude'. I am sure he has more charitable words of recognition for me. And of course, i dreaded his class.

One day, just he was distributing the question paper of an internal test, i was girding my loins. I mean, i had prepared. Real hard. And was awaiting the paper. Just as he was all set to distribute the question papers, he tipped a jar of water over the question paper stack. Quickly retrieving the papers with a flourish, he proceeded to distribute a wet set of papers to the class.

"So there, a watered down version !" , he said.

I flunked that exam. And to this day, think, there was something in the water.

Yes. Water. I love water. I treasure water. Every other living summer there has been an impending water scarcity. Or real time scarcity. And then, somehow, the other seasons clamoured to desist from giving the summer a bad name. And it became an all season thing.

We are just far too many people and too less water. And the too many people, haven't been thinking about the far too less water for a far too long time ! Well, the water scarcity has reached the Mumbai shoreline as well. And boy, you have to pay for water these days !

The numerous water tankers (driven by those ordinary men with delusory thoughts that their wheel drives a Mclaren Mercedes and the Mumbai road is a Formula one race track) are proof enough !





And that they do 'day and night' service is double proof. Altough, i must confess that 'self water supplier' unnerved me a little. I went around checking what this 'self water supplier' meant, just in case. The answers varied, but did not come close to my fears. So.

And these impeccable ordinary men and their 'self water supplier' tagline, amongst other things, got me started. I resolved that i would speak to as many people in the neibhourhood and educate them about the need to conserve water. With that firm resolve, i stepped outside.

There. Right there. Was this kid who was emptying his water bottle in the alleyway. My antennae screamed, 'opportunity'. So, i thought i'd get my practice going. After being nice to him I told him about the need to conserve water, and thought that the 'fear of hunger' would get him thinking.

So with a hushed voice i told him, 'we may not have enough water. Even for food. Your mom cant cook food and you've got to go hungry", i said. And mentally pumped my fist like Boris Becker after executing a neat unplayable backhand cross court volley !

And then, to my dismay i saw the boys eyes brighten. I knew there was something wrong. He just said, "Really?!?. Yay Yay Yay...If Mamma cant cook food then, we can all have Pani Puri. They use only mineral water'

My investigations lead me here.


My Water Conservation agenda has since been bristling. Battered down. But not watered down. Yet.

And by the way, that Pani Puri left me stirred. And shaken too. The agenda survives. For there is a fire in the well !

Fire in the well !

Concrete Hope !

On a city jaunt, once, i spotted this small flat, in a middle class neighbourhood. And there was an impeccable image. Of an open window. A few clothes that were seeking to shed their water weight by seeking the sun.

Plastic cans which perhaps held something else before, holding the soil. The soil holding firm for the roots to take shape. And the roots supplying all what the leaves required to stretch and seek the world.

The makeshift window sill was thin, and obviously not designed for these. And the window pane in their shadowy soot, had a far worse tale to tell. A foot away, was an old drainage pipe. And the wall was bore tell tale signs of seepage. Or perhaps, it was leakage.

It could have been an ordinary sight in a strange neighbourhood. But for some reason, my legs refused to move. And the eyes refrained from the odd blink. The cars honks around me grew fainter.

All i saw was the leaf deftly dance to a wisp of a breeze and that lonely red bud, tease the wind. In some time, i realised i was deaf to the honk and blind to the seepage.

I dont know for how long i stood there. But long enough for friends who were with me to nudge me to check if i was expecting someone to step out and wave. Perhaps climb down the drainage pipe and run to me. Like the types they show in Bollywood movies.

But there i was. A stranger. A stranger to that window and to that green. But in that strange distance, the appalling exterior melted away and all i saw was a coat of hope, beauty and possibility.

Those green leaves, the deft move of a stem responding to the faintest of breeze, those washed clothes that were drying, the promise of the lonely bud and the thought of those simple folks who nurtured this all, brought an incredible amount of peace to me.

And that's exactly how i feel about Obama's inauguration tomorrow. Sitting many thousand miles away, i feel better for the world. Don't ask me why. Call me a wishful thinker. Dub me whatever. I still feel so. I hope so. I wish so.

In the midst of seeping concrete, i found hope the other day.

Just as i will. Tomorrow.

Concrete Hope !

A humvee ride !

Here i am. At what they call a 'hyper market'. I like this place. * And no, this post is not sponsored. I like this place because it is here they give me this big, sturdy shopping cart. A cart that i can push around.

Now, pushing around isn't something that comes naturally to me. But, it is some fantasy that i have, that i will be able to push people around at home, as well. And this shopping cart is as close i have get to. So, you see, i look forward to the trip to this place.

This cart is 'beefy'. That's an adjective, i am told of recent origin, to describe a muscular object. So, John Abraham in Dostana is said to appear 'beefy'. Coming back to this cart, there are other things that i like.

The combination and mix is neat. There is just about enough steel, and there is a muscular plastic. With some real sturdy wheels. Wheels that carry consumerist India's weight for the well heeled. Or perhaps, the well wheeled !

And then there is this smooth flow of the cart on the tiled floor. Just as you push your choices around ! The noise, the smooth screech when you deftly navigate the stacks of brands is so invigorating !

But the 'icing on the cake'...or 'cherry on the pie' or 'lubricant in the engine', are these: There are no doors to open. No keys to insert. No belts to wear. And no permissions to seek. No lights to stop at. No honks to listen to. No 'one ways'. No potholes. No police man. If this is not freedom, what is ?!

With this happiness coursing my veins, i look at my fresh set of wheels today. With a heady rush, i start off. I push around with gay abandon. Taking sharp turns and making screeching halts. Throwing in an odd packet or two into the cart. (Lewis Hamilton may like it, but i particularly don't like undue attention you see).

The only squeal i hear occasionally, is of the missus. With a look of disdain and disapproving disappointment, she seems to have disowned me. And stands afar, like another shopper. And when nobody looks, makes these sweeping gestures imploring, requesting, ordering, threatening etc, asking me to stop right there. Today, a rare, new found courage keeps me going.

Suddenly, an empty stretch. There are stacks of cookies on either side. And a 20 meter freeway straight ahead. I mentally rev and go for it. At the end of the 'freeway' i take a blind turn. Suddenly, right before me, appears a beautiful lady. With her cart. We almost collide into each other. With instincts that would qualify me to compete with a Video game specialist, we stop. Our carts, separated by fifty percent of a quarter of an inch.

She smiles an impish smile. I smile too. There are a thousand butterflies that fly. In all these decades of driving on the road, no woman, has smiled at me when i was at the wheel. Not one. (From the outside that is. For purposes of calculation, a smile from the seat beside, is ...well..disqualified).

My love for my cart and this hyper market shoots through the roof.

She is panting as well. I realise. Before your imagination goes haywire, i must hasten to add that the panting is because she has been wheeling around. Just like me. And then, with a smile, she says, ' I have to entertain my son you see. He likes these rides'.

Ah. Explanation..but where is the son ? She points to the cart. And in a jiffy i see him. Seated right inside that beefy cart. My smile has a greater impish quotient. She has a 'son-in-the- trolley' as a reason. And i have three packets of potato wafers. I rankle my brain for a smart one liner. Or two liner. Or whatever. And the boy starts crying. Off she goes.

Some time later, i am billing those small quantities. The cashier seems to give me an odd look. Perhaps he is thinking, 'so much of wheeling for this scrap' ! I couldn't care. And then, i spot the lady. Billing in the next lane.

And right behind me, i hear a voice. A gruff beefy voice. "Why do people think of these shopping carts as military armoured cars ? Is this a Humvee, huh ?!" I don't turn my head. With a innocence plastered arrogance, i assume that that comment was for that lovely lady. And anybody who heard. Not me.

I look at the lady from corner of my eye. And i see her looking ( glaring) in my direction. And then discover, that glare is not at me. I think that the glare was reserved for the gruff voice. That proved it. That comment was for the lady.

Coming home, i look up Humvee and discover that it stands for "High Mobility Multipurpose Wheeled Vehicle".

Of course. Of course. Of course. It is high mobility. And serves many many purposes. I want to confront this dude with the gruff voice.

I sure will return to this store. And to my Humvee ! Only to give that gruff voice the right perspective. Nothing else.

Really.

( Disclaimer : I hold no shares, share no interest, and the only place that i visit every week is my in-laws and the local temple. Not this place. So.)

A humvee ride !

The Sun.

The sun has been an object of great intrigue, wonder and inspiration for me. And it is the sun which i have turned to, to get myself going. It is the sun that warms my skin in the chill and drives me cracking during the summer.

And in its many hues, it paints many pictures for me. When the mood is not upbeat, like now. Or when things can be better than what they are, the sun inspires.

Somehow, a bright sunny day, is something that i have come to like. Especially so in January ! Here are some pictures of the Sun ! All clicked with an amateurish tilt ! Do bear with me.

Snap : 1

I clicked this sitting on the passenger seat. The sun was rapidly sinking. So was the battery in the camera. And when i thought that the battery was completely dead, the sun appeared right ahead. With all the glory of a techni colour sun set, i rued the low battery but placed emphasis on hope.

I clicked, praying that i would get a shot. The camera went dead. But later, i did find that the sun god seemed to have answered my prayer !

Snap Series - II

This was an amazing evening. A little weary i watched the sun set from my home. It was actually setting beyond a thick black set of clouds. And just as i thought the sun had set, a part of it reappeared from below a cloud.

For a split second i thought it was a miracle, before realising what indeed was happening !

Snap - III

I finished a day long meeting at a hotel. And with a wistful glance into sky, i felt restive. Perhaps the meeting could have gone better, i thought. And then, there was this red ball of a sun.

In the line of my sight were electric transmission wires and paper wastes that had settled on them. But the backdrop provided by the sun seemed to obscure everything else ! And suddenly the waste didn't seem to matter. For some strange reason, i felt better.

That was the sun.


I am told that it is pretty cold in many parts of the world right now. I hope the images of the sun provides some relief !!


PS : Do you think i am becoming sadist or something ?!?

The Sun.

Happy Pongal !

Happy Pongal !

Tomorrow is Pongal. Wikipedia informs me that Pongal is akin to Thanksgiving. I only know that it is a festival of harvest. It is a festival of a new beginning, of sugar, of jaggery, of decorated cows and of course of pristine joy! Perhaps a flowing over the brim of all of these !!

Wikipedia also informs that the Tamil Nadu government has decided to announce that from this year on, Pongal will be Tamil New Year ! I guess they wanted to become Julius Caesar or somebody by changing the calendar. (Ah. I have given a word to my missus : No politics on the blog. Ok. So, i stop there. Right there). Thats a different issue.

Back home, Pongal meant four days of holidays. And those wonderful dishes that amma made. The prayer and the offering to the Sun, in the spacious courtyard of home ! And of course, sugarcane ! Endless sugarcane !

Pongal. Madurai '06

This is a picture from the album. Pongal celebrations at home. 2006 ! My taste buds are already active, when i look at the offerings on the leaf. And of course, you cant miss the sugarcane. Those long, thick purple hued delights.

Pongal brings to mind a different time. And makes me miss home. And when you miss home, you miss home and the glorious times that were part of home ! Parents. Friends and the times !

Tomorrow however, the missus will wake up early in the morning, and make Pongal (the dish). And we'll have a prayer standing in our apartment kitchen, from where we hope to catch a glimpse of the sun, and say a quiet thank you. And then, i run away to work and and she goes her way !

In that space would escape a thousand memories and a few techni colour memories peppered with longing for recreation and renewal to a far away land that's close to a migrant heart.

Sugarcane. Pongal '08

The one material thing that i would miss, is the purple hued sugar cane. We went around shopping for sugar cane, and ended up with what you see. That size would make a home grown drumstick from Madurai beam with pride !!

On another note, i guess Pongal is about a new beginning. About acknowledging the forces of nature that sustain us. About peace. About happiness. About community. About sincerity of a wish for a better tomorrow.

And that sincerity is not dependent on where you are or for that matter, by the length of sugarcane in your region !

So here is a sincere wish for you ! A sincere acknowledgement for being there and a prayer + hope for a better tomorrow for all of us !

Happy Pongal !

Happy Pongal !

Whats On Your Gate !

I am decent chap, you see. Seriously. Please don't conclude by the quality of the written word on this blog. I really am a decent chap. Ok !?! And so, when friends invite me for dinner ( yes, i do get invited, once in a while), i go.

Till sometime back, i went with joy and without any hesitation. The only question that was on the tip of my tongue was 'Whats for dinner?" These days, that is the last question. If at all we get there. For many a time, i don't get to go beyond the gate !

For,every apartment worth its home loan balance, leakage and squabbling association, has a string of notices that hang by a thick string at the gate. You just cant miss those signboards.

The following are the most common in the area where i live, in the order of occurrences.(Yes. Sure. I did a research).

1. No Parking In Front Of Gate
2. No Entry For Outside Vehicles
3. No Entry Without Valid Permission

These signs, to put it mildly, amuse me no end. Although, i must confess, sometimes they are downright intimidating. Sample this workplace gate at a workplace near ours.



You cant go if you drove an 'outside' vehicle. Nor can you park your 'outside' vehicle, somewhere close to the gate. And if you are enraged with the entire arrangement, you cant stick a complaint on their face. And if you plan to enter through the side...well, beware of dogs !

I really think we need to start a mass movement to have more 'welcoming' signboards on apartment gates. I really think it is time we did that.

Signboards that will not make visitors feel like hunted aliens driving a single door UFO with blinking lights and hissing gas. And of course, visitors must feel better than creeps who killed an army of people with twin antennae and a slithering tongue.

I know. I know. You think i am taking all of this too far. But, sample this gate that i spotted on LBS Marg.



Now, if there was some friend (who is not a relative) who invited me here for dinner, the food he served will not go beyond my oesophagus !!

So, in true form, i seethed about 'positive vibes' & made random noises about ancient Indian hospitality. And the missus listened.

Used to such rants by now, she crossed her arms, tilted her head and said, " so wise man, what do you want to write instead of whats written over there. These boards come with a purpose. Now tell me, how will you say that, with a positive vibe?" ( Married folks understand that sentence. Yet to be married folks will understand it in time)

Now, that set me thinking. The challenge thrown, and the gauntlet picked, i stood like a gladiator with ten unchained lions attacking me, with strings from an iron gate. So, working furiously, i thought of these...

No Parking In Front Of Gate
Reserved Parking for the mentally disabled or Reserved parking for people with severe body odour / Reserved Parking for Stolen Cars.

Now, how cool would that be !?! 'Reserved Parking' sounds cool. Much cooler than 'No Parking In Front Of Gate'

hmm... or perhaps, 'Please keep the engine on. We dry clothes on the bonnet' !
Or, even better. 'Smile. You are now on Police CCTV' !

No Entry For Outside Vehicles
Exclusive Entry for Red Mercedes 280 SL with Retreaded MRF Tyres.

And folks who write 'Beware of dogs' can consider writing something common, but specific enough. Something like ' We are a quiet neighbourhood. Dogs that bite, seldom bark.'. That would be neat. What say !

And so i continued. But stumbled when i came to the blokes who have a 'members and relatives only' signboard....

'Vampires Live Here', i said. But that was promptly shot down with a shove by the missus. I am still wondering. In the interest of the MMWS (Mass Movement Towards Welcoming Signboards), can you shake your brains a little please ?!?

If you are plain lazy like i usually am, just wanted to let you know that i have made a transition. Whenever a dinner invitation reaches me, the question no longer is, 'Whats on the plate"...but...

"whats on your gate?"

Whats On Your Gate !

Yes Our Can !

Visiting a family that i often visit, i have to use the toilet a.k.a washroom in 'developed' circles. Marveling at the body's engineering processes, which somehow sense proximity of clean toilets, to alert the urges, i enter !

It was a super clean and neat place. It continues to be so. To this day ! And there, just as i am using the pot, in a corner is this green can. 'Castrol' it says ! (You know Castrol dont you?) And of course, it is filled to the brim with water and apparently, part of mainstream usage !

Surely, Castrol didn't pay this family for strategic brand placement in the washroom! It is just another can that was being put to the best of reuse and recycle ! Millions in India do this.

Every rural morning sun sees people walking the fields with cans that say 'Castrol' or "Servo' or 'Asian Paints' *** etc ! They held lubricants, oil, paint when they moved out of the factory. But in their recycled avatar, they are usually filled with water. And comes in handy for porting water...you know...for all what water comes in handy for.




Sometimes they help in porting garbage. Cleaning Autorickshaws. At other times they are cow feed carriers. At yet others for brewing illicit hooch!! And of course, they are used by the Public Works Department in perennial road building activities as well !

And why not....

I presume these cans are made to the strictest Seven Sigma quality ( Six Sigma standards + one sigma extra for all the noise made about Six Sigma ). Made by the best of engineering minds, out of the best material possible and sport colour combinations chosen by brand consultants ! And of course, come to production only after exacting quality checks !

I turn to the green Castrol can in the corner. This time around, i look at it with higher respect. And i wonder, how my reactions would change, if i worked for Castrol. Would i run my finger affectionately on the can, and say, with a Obama like thud, 'Yes ! Our Can' !?!

I finish up what i came into the toilet for. And then, i cast one last respectful glance at the green Castrol can and with imagination running riot about a mob of Castrol users shouting 'Yes Our Can', i look at it a little more intently.

I spot a sticker on it that reads : 'Its more than oil. Its liquid engineering' !

It all comes together ! A light bulb glows somewhere. Suddenly, brand placement seems appropriate ! Pot on !


(*** Castrol, Servo and Asian Paints are common examples going by my mind share and corresponding assumptions of visibility in toilets / washrooms. They are not quoted here out of personal association / spite / liking etc. Ok !?! )

Yes Our Can !

Stomach Vision !

Metaphors occupy my thoughts these days. Its almost becoming an obsession. Looking at any object and thinking up a connection is having a soothing impact. (Well, in the silence of my own self, affording a laugh at best and a smirk at worst ! )

Strange things are happening to the world you see and there are first steps to everything. My approaching delirium included. ( Read more about delirium here. Incase any of you wants to check...No. Not a self check. Of course not..! Someone you know...!)

Anyway, in this current state of mind, I looked at this picture and recall a Bangalore evening. And methinks of sharing my thought & checking out my delirium quotient !!

Just outside the Cosmopolitan Mall in Bangalore, they had this giant 'puppet' that walked the entrances when we were there, a couple of years back. I am told that they did this to sustain interest from shoppers and increase foot falls !

Entertaining children and therefore relieving parents! The young impressionable minds saw this 'larger than life' colorful & powerful object that moved around and resembled a human form, with, to put it mildly, a certain degree of large awe and some joy.

So, they clapped aloud. Smiled. Laughed aloud. And kept standing wide eyed at the sight of this large wooden lady that went from one end to another.

Some children ventured near 'her' and 'she' would come close or go farther away, and children obviously would go ga-ga, that this huge figure was after all responding to them and their moves !

It was an interesting exchange of sorts! Between children of all hue and the puppet.

Parents stood by the side. Fully aware that the puppet was moved around by a small man with stilt legs standing inside ! Moved around, powered by the eyes in the tummy

Yes..those peep holes in the tummy of the puppet which were the see-holes through which the small man inside was using to move around with.

Seeing the world & those children. Their laughter and their moves et al. And making his moves, while we stood there and let the children have all the fun !!

So there was a

a. Wooden but very colourful structure
b. Seemed larger than life
c. Was actually a small, ordinary person inside
d. Attracted and plays with / to impressionable minds
e. Had stomach vision..( saw all activities through an eye in the stomach...)

Without a tilt of a head or a shake of a finger i shout : politicians of the world !!


But as i said, i concede, mine is a mind that is beginning to indicate onset of progressive delirium. At least that's what i make of the look people give me these days. So, do let me know, how close or how far away i am.

From delirium that is !

Stomach Vision !

Notes to Myself !

Some things send me in a tizzy. Pompous talk, for one wins hands down. The other, is to see some 'works of art' ! Like the ones that i see in Ten rupee currency notes. Today i got four notes. And i plan to take them out of circulation.

And i wonder why people would scrawl !?!

Sampled here are four notes. And here is whats written on them. Not including the 'i promise to pay the bearer..'

a. Pictorial Representation of 'I love Mumtaz'
b. 'I love Poondi' stuck off and replaced with 'I love Saleem'
c. A star and some other indecipherable script. I can read 'Arsht Arsi'
d. 'We are like this only'

a. For the love of the original Mumtaz, the Emperor Shah Jehan built the Taj Mahal ! So, if you cant afford it, must you leave a scrawl ?! To all the aspiring Shah Jehans of the world, if you have to showcase the love of Mumtaz, for heavens sake, go rent a flat, build a hut. Whatever. But spare the 10 rupee note ! Please !

b. And if you have doubts about who you really love and how to keep track as you move from Poondi to Saleem, may i suggest, you use a tissue paper. The currency note is for circulation, you see. On second thoughts, i wouldn't give you that idea. I am recalling that statement. Now, jsut go buy tissue paper.

c. Ok. So you have this incorrigible urge to write. And practice your writing on currency notes only. Ok, so your father was the oil sheik, who has four wells somewhere in the gulf. Ok. Ok. But, at least, at the very least, write some stuff that we can read and understand.

d. And the last one. The next time, i catch you writing something like this, i am calling the cops. The mint. The RBI, anybody. Somebody. Ok. I promise to create so much noise, that , at least the next time, they would print a helpline for such traumatised people like me, to call and complain. Right there on the 10 rupee note !

Gandhi's smile, was not always of approval.

Now, stop that scrawl.

Notes to Myself !

The Wonder Years !

So there ! The new year has brought in a reconnection ! Reconnection with long lost classmates from a distant time and a lost memory. Lost in the speed of day to day living and in the name of making a living !

Orkut and Facebook have suddenly occupied centrestage in life and voila, people that i last spoke to when the first dinosaur shed its last milk tooth suddenly came alive.

Well, the chaps from school did sound different ! Of course they would. I am sure they say the same of me, if not worse ! And boy do they look different !! Each with a kid or two. Some going to the same school that we went to. Some looking exactly as they used to. And many others, giving me comfort and company by looking...well, different !

An unintended consequence has been reminiscing the wonder years.

Those years where you played a serious cricket match (during a lunch break of 45 minutes), with a tennis ball and half a branch of a coconut tree. Years when the closest health worry was the quick healing of a twisted ankle, in time for the cricket match !

Those years where you had wind in your hair (and of course, hair in the first place..) and a spirit in your walk, that was tested only by the Maths test ! Years when 'a house' did not come with a home loan ! But with a sleeveless florescent vest !

"Houses" ( groups) you used to belong to for the Sports Day ! I think those houses, in our case, went by the name of Kaveri, Ganga, Yamuna, each signified and separated by a colour coded ( Fluorescent Blue, Green, Yellow, Red..) sleeveless vest !

Years when 'competition' didn't mean valuation / contribution etc but simply : drawing, handwriting, essay writing et al !! And of course, those were the years when you got a prize for just showing up ! Yes. I recall winning a prize for two consecutive years years, for attending school without a single day of leave !! I wonder what i was thinking !

Those years of gleam eyed learning in the chemistry labs. In the library. In the Annual day. And the inevitable sinking feeling when the report cards showed up, or when parents were 'summoned' !

Years when 'pedaling' didn't mean pedaling a stationary cycle to lose weight. But when you had to pedal all the way to school, and that you did with great fun ! And the jet black BSA SLR that stood gleaming at home, washed clean, many times in a week. My first set of wheels !

Years when you did not understand terrorism. When Soviet Union was 'friend', and disdain for anybody who said 'America was good!' Years of Span and Readers Digest. Years when you didnt care if your tie matched your shirt. And of course, didn't care if the tie was in its place !

Years when you used to wear 'colour dress' on your birthday, and go from class to class, with a box of chocolates in your hand. Years when amma used to bake those wondrous sponge cakes !

Years when you didn't understand what sex was ! And when you went up to appa, and asked aloud, (when he was with guests), 'Appa, what is rape ?'. And tell him that the school has mandated reading of newspapers this question was part of home work !

Years when the only diet that you needed to be concerned of, was what was in the tiffin box, and of course,when calories where non-existent ! Years when holidays meant you play from morning to lunch time, have lunch, and then play from evening to late night and come home to have dinner and catch some sleep.

Years of static TV called Doordarshan. Of no FM radio. And no computers.... But those were years when you grew. Years that shaped you. Years that made you what you are today. Years that stay fresh in the mind. Every memory of it, brings a smile and a yearning for those times.

Today, classmates stay all scattered. Across the globe. Some working for those giant corporations, hospitals and other small companies. Many others, building their own organisations ! Still others married and settled down. And yet others remain untraceable !

But those shared years were the wonder years. Wonder years, when you could question anything and anybody. When the minds limit became clearer only when we graduated from each class to the next ! To me, those still are the defining years !

Defining wonder years !

A special thanks to Bala for the snaps !

The Wonder Years !