Trials and Tribulations by Fire

Each time I step out, I do so in trepidation. 'Coz stepping out ain't a simple task. Presumably, I need to keep in mind hundred and one people who can feel bad about me stepping out. The need to take permission and ensure the permission lasts for a long time is so very sapping. With the memory loss kicking in big time, I wonder if I can just switch off and on and simply delete these not-so-sweet events. It is important to remember that whatever you do, you will always be the villain. Because, the womb that gave you birth was not the great one. A normal womb demands a normal or less than normal life. If you think you can lead a royal life and get a normal treatment, you are in for some rough tumbles. Remember always that people will want you to become a robot just because you are not 'supposed' to have a mind. Take the case of Ramu. Ramu, our protagonist. Now, Ramu, is what one can call a jerk. Doesn't have balls to stand up for anyone, least of all himself. So,

September 22 to 28, 2013 I started my journey to Thanjavur, with a heavy heart. I had little interest to go so far for a week. I was feeling so terrible as if I had been given a Kaala Paani ka sazaa. Anyway, I packed my stuff and reached the station.  When I reached T, I was beginning to feel better. I had to do it. I decided I better do it well. So, I made a plan of things I wanted to achieve in the next 5 days. I had googled and identified some places I wanted to visit.  Primarily, I wanted to visit temples in and around Thanjavur and get a feel of the place. On most days, I switched the GPS option on my phone on and wandered through the streets of Thanjavur. I managed not to get lost. I reached the hotel, in one piece.       I went to the Big temple and wandered around for a bit. I had gone with a colleague, Lekha (name changed).  First day, we landed up at the head office in the midst of the bustling town of Thanjavur. A balding COO with a slight paunch stuffed into a po

I am going to Thanjavur, yet again.  Never thought I will go there, so soon. But, this time I will stay for a longer time and return next week. I am not very thrilled. I have a lot of work to do. I am planning to sight see too. I promise, this time, I will take nice pictures of the Big Temple. :)  

Grew up listening to Kishore Kumar, Mohd. Rafi and listening to impromptu adda sessions on the neighborhood tapri. Have heard and wondered how people could talk so much. Not that I dont like to wag my tongue. I am tending towards being a megalomaniac, probably worse. Dunno what can be worse!  Anyway, of late, I have changed my outlook and have changed a few things in my life. First thing being, my way of reacting to people and stuff that I am not comfortable with.  I am in a new setting now. I like it.  Being caught in a rut suffocates me. I need to feel the vibrant energy of my earlier life again. I need to go back to being the person I was, when I migrated from the East. I had never imagined that I would settle down in Chennai, of all places. I had thought of Bangalore, never Chennai.  So, when I came to this new city, I was kind of thrilled, to be part of a new environment. But, at the same time, I had a deep contempt for the place. Several incidents kept playing in my head

Have always cringed whenever I heard my north indian acquaintances address tamils as 'kale kaloote madrasi', 'madrasiyon jaisi', or even 'ghaas foos khane waale madrasi' and so on. I grew up in Durgapur, West Bengal and did not consider myself a 'pure-bred' Tamil. I settled in Chennai back in 2002 and allowed myself time to take in the culture, environment, and food habits. Though I am not a great lover of Chennai but I do take strong offense when people talk ill about the Tamils.  Maybe the Tamil in me is offended. Let me cite a few instances:  An acquaintance often would crib about the lack of opportunities for her to get married. She claims that if she had been living in a place like Delhi or Punjab, she would have been snapped up, just like that. I have certain observations regarding that claim. I think to get snapped up, an eligible girl or a boy needs to have many more capabilities than simply being fair! This girl is quite fair and bemoans

In a small village near Tanjore, in a non-descript house, a girl sat on a small moda, squirming, as she was subjected to a detailed scrutiny by a bunch of old hags and a man. The man wore spectacles, was in his late twenties and had no hair, or receding hair. The girl had just turned twenty one and had to be married off lest the society jeer at her parents for not performing their duty. The wedding date was fixed. The girl still hadn't mustered the courage to see the face of the man she would spend her life with. Good girls from good families didn't ogle at men. Certainly not at a man they were going to take as their Lord and Master. The girl and the man got married. He wasted no effort or time to deflower her. In a few months she got pregnant and delivered a health baby boy also. Now, her status in society rose. She became the 'saubhagyavati' who had everything in life. A husband, a son, and a fair skin. The girl, now a woman, had flawless fair skin. The man

Have never felt this way before. Salary won't get deposited before September. That means I have to live off whatever I have.  Life has never been rosy, but, suddenly everything seems bleary and dreary. Money was never such a huge issue in my life. Today, I am worried about paying salary to my maid, buying groceries, handling the household expenses for this month.  Feel sick.  Feel angry. Anger is directed towards the man who was instrumental in creating this situation. I do not know if he could have done anything or no. But, am sure if he had wanted to, he could have given some nice reason to let me stay till August 31st. I would have got the salary and life would have been rosy. That was not to be. I had to worry about how to pay my bills and worry about all the mounting expenses! August always does this to me. I hate the month. I hate the number it stands for.  Whenever this number 8 arrives in my life, my life changes. For the better or worse, I do not know. As they

An idle day at work means a lot of things to me. Today it means catching up on movies. Ok, don't gawk, I am allowed to watch movies in the office. Well, not like officially, but yeah, I can access all these sites which invite you, rather comple you to indulge your senses. I gave in and watched a movie called 'Silver Linings Playbook.'   Cast includes the ooh so sexy Bradley Cooper (how can somebody be so delicious!) and the quite hot Jennifer Lawrence. Well, to top it all, there is the baap , Robert Di Niro, well, as the daddy, Sr. Pat Solitano.  Now, Bradley, nee Jr. Pat has Bipolar disorder. Don't know what that is? c'mon, Google it. So, our sexy looking Pat (Bradley) gets out of a loony bin (a mental institution) and stays with his parents. Why did he end up there? He tried to kill his wife's lover when he found them making out in the shower! So silly and so slippery! Anyway, Pat begins a new life but Nikki (his ex-wife) keeps marauding his mem

At first glance, the name of the book strikes a chord. If you have heard of Kirk Douglas, you would recall the name instantly. Else, 'My Stroke of Luck ~ Alphabet to Author' would be just another book. I have never been a fan of books that talk about pain, sorrows, and trauma. This book by Vijay Santhanam, at first, sounded like one. At some level it is. But, there is also this element of courage, which makes the reader sit up and empathize with Vijay. The book is strewn with anecdotes from Vijay's life. Delving into personal details is not something I am too comfortable with. But in Vijay's book, I could see that the details were necessary to build context.   For a less practiced reader, the book may not be unputdownable. You may have to take breaks. I read the book within a few hours. I had several reasons. I wanted to know what Vijay did and how we went about doing it. Vijay warns the reader that he is not attempting to write a medical journal on str

Today is very special. Today, the whole day I avoided thinking about her and in the evening I gave vent to my non-existent emotions and bitched to my heart's content. In the end, I feel listless and empty. It is as if the hatred for her has left me paralysed, I can feel nothing. The nothingness is soothing. I can understand it. But, slowly, a metamorphosis is happening. I do not like it quite. I think I need to stop it from  taking over me. Me, the self, I know since 1977, the self which defines me, my status in society, the self that people relate to, and often say,'this is so you.' But, many a times, I feel, is this the real me? The person who swears at old men driving slowly in the middle of the road, who sneers at lovey-dovey couples, rolls her eyes at many things, is this me? Oh god! If this was the real me, who is the person I keep thinking I am. I must be losing it, has it always been like this or is it just now, because of this woman, in my life? Have I given