Trials and Tribulations by Fire

The flight landed at 23:50 IST, Indian Standard Time. The tires screeched to a halt and we tumbled out of the jet, ready to be jet-lagged. The actual jet lag thing didn't hit me till I reached home and dozed off. The next few days were hazy, I could not understand what was happening to me. My friends were in the same boat, I believed. Or atleast I thought so, 'coz I did not turn back and check. I went to office, said the right things, returned and life continued. But the drowsiness remained. It slowly became a part of me. I was seriously jet lagged! Wow. Is this how people lag behind jets. Aah. I am now sleeping intermittently, between naps. Sleeping has become an integral part of my routine. Previously I would sleep when my routine allowed me. Now I have changed my routine to accomodate more zzzz time. Life has certainly changed, for me.  

A close girl friend and I were having this conversation last evening. We usually end up talking about such issues, passionately, such as behaviour of young women vis a vis their mothers in law (MILs). She said, when we retort back to our MILs, we are actually behaving the way they want us to behave, like daughters in law (DILs). If we keep our sanity intact, curb the urge to murder them, and behave in a rational way, the MILs wont know how to react. This, is easier said than done. She continued, MILs as a group are a very insecure lot. They are scared that the young hot woman in their son's life is out to rob them of the unbridled freedom and hold they had on the men's lives. The young women take away the most important possession from the MILs, their darling sons! They show no remorse, no pity to the older women. The DILs take away the sons physically away sometimes as well. The MILs find themselves completely cloistered with their husbands, again! This causes...

Recently, I was reading a friend's blog and thinking about what could probably affect her so much. She has been always a fiery woman, lashing out at unruly bums and treat them like poo. Poo, these bums are worth, surely, but I sometimes wonder what moves me. What is that one thing that makes me cry or ponder? Now, that would certainly be human intelligence. Be it humor or a witty conversation. Intelligence makes me take note of people. Warm and dumb people also make an impact. I forget them very easily and quickly. Of late, I have behaved in an abysmal manner and ridiculed a person a lot. Of course, I am feeling bad about it. I think I have reached a stage where  I do not make fun of anybody. But baser instincts do kick in sometimes and take hold of, rather possess me, to go ahead and ridicule. I love churning out words, I like the feel of the words on my tongue. To be able to speak correctly and well means a lot to me. Hence, I ridicule, people who care less ...

Navratri had no significance to me till I got married. For that matter, none of the Hindu festivals did. Of late, I have begun to appreciate and learn the customs and rituals followed by my ancestors for hundreds of years. Though I was a sceptic at first, I began my journey of belief to rekindle the Hindu in me. Be it lighting the diya or drawing a kolam in front of the house, I try to follow whatever my elders expect a married Hindu woman to do.

Is ridicule a step-sister of jealosy? When we ridicule people about anything, we tend to face our deepest fears ourselves. Its a given that people who find flaws in others tend to be weak in those areas.

This is the story of Sita, a 20-something woman who badly wants to get married. She works in a software company as some bla bla designer. Her occupation actually adds nothing to the story. The main idea is the fact that she is willing to be married and is waiting for the guy who would actually get down to it. Sita could not remember since when she wanted to get married. Actually, the very idea of leading a married life had nothing to do with her wish to get married. She simply wanted to go through the motions of getting married. Thats all.

Manju woke up to the shrill ring of the alarm and sat up, rubbing her eyes. She was not sleep-deprived today. It was a new day and she was excited about it. The Flower Manju literally ran into the kitchen and opened the window. The pot was still there. A single flower peered back at her with a startling intensity as if daring her to pluck it. Manju let the flower be and turned away, as if to respect the flower's destiny. It would dry out and fall. She was not in a mood to wear a flower on her plait that day, anyway. New Soap Manju had a streak of perfection and wanted everything in her kitchen to sparkle, always. Her husband of 20 years, Ashok, called her sick. she bothered not, because, seeing a clean sparkling shelf gave her a thrill, no other could give. She was very excited about the new washing soap she had bought from the new corner shop.  After taking bath and doing the regular activities, Manju, took out the soap from the shelf and carefully, oh so very carefully,...

The house was not small by any standards, but to Maya, it seemed cramped, almost tiny. Well, after having lived in palatial bungalows, the 1000 sq ft flat would seem small. But, for many, it would be a dream home. Some would cough up their life savings for such a house. But, not Maya. She hated the house from the day she stepped in. In fact she was not clear if she hated the house more or her cramped room more. Or was it a combination of factors that affected her deep dislike. She had never bothered to think more about it. She didnt care much either. There were other issues that fanned her hatred for the house. Maya was a woman who had grown up in sheer luxury and had no inkling what the future had in store. A small house with medium luxuries and an old couple for company, Maya felt lonely and hopeless on her first day in the house. It was a dreary feeling. After a Few Years Maya thought she heard a ring. Yes, the bloody telephone was shrieking like hell. Wonder, who had die...

Its a rainy, dreamy day here, in Chennai. Usually, hot and humid, Chennai is looking greener. I love the weather. On my way to work, I kept ogling at the green leaves on brown trees and the miniscule saplings planted near the footpaths. I wonder at God's ability to create such beauty. Well, a higher being like God can only create such beauty. No man can attain such perfection. After marveling at the perfection and beauty on my way, I began thinking about the reason why a human being is incapable of attaining such perfection. Is it the genetic coding or simply the thought process that stops an average man from reaching the pinnacle? I wonder. Usually, human beings are goal-oriented and strive to achieve something in their short lives. There should be something that would give an impetus to them to reach the pinnacle sooner. Is it the mind or destiny? Or a combination of factors? I am chewing on this... The human mind, they say is capable of innumerable achievements and thought...

People usually form habits by seeing their parents, relatives, teachers, and friends repeat certain actions. These actions can be anything, combing hair from left to right, wearing striped shirts with striped trousers (uh! fashion disaster), wearing fluorescent colors, using certain words or abuses, using a particular dialect, preferring a cuisine, or using jasmine oil for the hair. Sigh! There are countless examples I can quote and still would not have covered even an inch. These are normal, ordinary people. They are people on the roads, in buses, in trains, in offices, and in the bus stops. They do everything out of habit. They never stop to think of a newer way to do a certain task or pause to look for a better option. A to-be-wedded girl in Tamil Nadu would certainly want to buy her trousseau from a certain shop. All these habits are deeply engrained in the psyche of a Tamilian. These habits have slowly become part of the religious rituals. Typically, a to-be-wedded girl alway...