My New Life

I'm back after a long break! It feels great to be blogging again but I am happy that I decided to take a break from all kinds of social networking media. It has been a refreshing two-month break from Facebook and I do not plan to return. I have had enough of people- watching and laying out my life in the open for others to see. Of course I am aware of the numerous benefits of networking sites, but I have reached a point in my life where I feel I cannot relate to the "socializing" anymore.

This post is not a critique about technology, the internet or social media, nor is it an attempt to recapture the readers of this blog who have been guessing the reason behind my absence. I have decided to blog when I have something new to say regardless of the readership of my blog. The number of posts, challenges and prompts don't seem to matter now. And I am not going to visit all the blogs in the universe to increase the viewership of my blog. I feel that I want to do things just for the pure joy I get out of it. Whether I am appreciated or not, criticized or not.

Competition and comparison have become very much part of our lives that often we fail to do things we truly desire. We forgo many of our pleasures just to seem "alright" or "normal". I have changed a lot as an individual in the last two months. I have made major changes in my lifestyle that I know are in the positive direction. I will definitely share my learning in this space. So if you are still interested and decide to follow Words from My Heart and Head, thank you :)

I have also started working with an organisation as a facilitator of learning. Yes! I am doing what I love a lot- teaching and learning. I will also be blogging or painting when I feel I need to express my thoughts and feelings. I will be living in close connection with nature (reviving those lost ties), rediscovering the joy of a clutter free, simple life and focusing on healthy, organic living.

These desires of my heart had been lying dormant in an environment of family and friends caught in a mad race to attain "success" or "the best life" the quality of which none really is sure about. But I have finally found the courage to stand by my convictions and to live life the way I want to regardless of what other people may think or say. I had been toying with the idea of turning Vegan for the past two years but I have finally begun that journey. It has not been easy at all, to convince "well meaning" family members about my right to have a choice.

I notice that my writing is a little rusty and needs a little oiling. So see you soon with another post. I would love to hear from you, but will definitely understand if you remain silent. I will still keep building this space with words :) Have a great weekend.

First Times

Image courtesy: Google

"When was the last time you did something for the first time?" This is one phrase my husband overuses. On our first date, our wedding day, upon writing the first love note, during our trips together, our cooking adventures, a game of scrabble or any random moment he surprises me with this question. I suggest you ask yourself this question and reflect for a moment.

Do you love trying out new things? Do you make an effort or do you succumb to the usual excuse about not having enough time? Are you stuck in a rut and wish for something "different" or "crazy" to happen? Of course most of us have hobbies to keep our creative sides active or go on holidays to unwind and relax but for many others these interests take a backseat due to various reasons.

I like trying out new things. I am totally in love with the idea of learning (one of the reasons why I enjoy teaching). I remember that even as a child, I was constantly on the lookout for new ideas, new games, new hobbies, new hideouts and "new" mischief! Trust me, doing something for the first time brings a feeling of freshness and joy of accomplishment no matter how silly a thing it seems. Who knows, you may discover something new about yourself - a talent an interest or even a quirk.

After the A to Z challenge, I desperately wanted to do something different. Unable to come up with anything interesting, I opened my cupboard and sifted through a cluttered pile of random things (stationery, greeting cards, dried flowers, paint and so on). When I chanced upon an abandoned drawing book, I almost shouted "Eureka!" 

What started off as a few overlapping free hand circles ended up like this:

And led to this:

I was hooked and so deeply lost in the drawing that my mom had to remind me of lunch time. It was a soothing experience that left me happy and proud. I definitely will do more of this when I get bored. But right now I'm on the lookout for new things to try :)

When was the last time you did something for the first time? Think of it and do leave a comment or even better, do something new today and then tell me!


Linking to
http://www.writetribe.com/write-tribe-pro-blogger-challenge/

Emoting A to Z

Image Courtesy: Google

“The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched. They must be felt with the heart”
               - Hellen Keller

Emotions and feelings are better experienced than explained. I have always found it intriguing, the myriad of emotions we humans are capable of going through. They add a lot of colour and layers to an individual. Though most of us are capable of experiencing various emotions like happiness, love, sadness, anger fear and so on, the triggering factors, their depth, our understanding of them etc greatly vary. Their expression too differs from person to person.

I am an emotional person and I can almost feel myself plunging into them at all times. At the same time, I like to believe that I am very much in touch with my emotions or in other words I can name the feeling I'm going through at a particular instance most of the time (of course there are times when I have mixed feelings or unidentifiable feelings). I think that being true to one's emotions makes me authentic and real. It also helps me express them better.in a manner that benefits the situation.

What remains now is the Theme Reveal for the A to Z blogging Challenge in April. Let me put it simply, it is Emoting A to Z. Since I am a novice blogger and this is my first A to Z challenge, I wanted to select a genre of writing outside my comfort zone. I have penned a lot of poetry and reflections about social issues but have very few stories to my credit. I want to change that by the end of this challenge. In April, you will find short fiction (within 300 words) dealing with emotions, one for each letter of the English Alphabet.

I hope you join me in this emotional wagon from A to Z. You can be assured, these words are straight from my heart and head. I would love to pull in at your station. Do drop in your comments and links to your blogs. We are together in this!!

Linking to http://www.writetribe.com/write-tribe-pro-blogger-challenge/

A Name for Keeps

Image courtesy: Google

A name is a word by which things, people, places and animals are known. It helps us to identify them from a group with ease. Well, when it comes to names of people, it is a little more complicated, given the socio-cultural set up we live in. So it is common to find people with two names, a given name and a surname. The surname could be the name of a parent (mostly the father), family or even caste. So a name can reveal quite a lot about a person!

I wouldn't say that one’s identity is tied to a name but I do believe that a name, over the years becomes a part (however small) of one’s identity. We grow up being known by a particular name. Some people choose to keep them; some change them of their own accord or under pressure. Ultimately it is just a matter of choice. However, it is more common among women than men to change their surname after marriage. Some of the reasons given by people who prefer to change their names post marriage are:

1. Everyone in the family will have the same surname, creating a sense of belonging and it is easier to identify members of a family.
2. It avoids hassles especially while travelling abroad, inheriting property etc.
3. It helps the new daughter in law adjust easily and accept the new family as hers.

I’m accepting of the fact that everyone has a right to choose what they want for themselves. But I would definitely want to keep my original name. It is a name I have grown to like over two decades and a half. Everyone knows me by this name. I have been Vidya Subramanian for my friends, teachers, family, employers, colleagues, students and many others. Even my husband and his family got introduced to me and even liked me while I sported this name. My certificates of birth, my achievements in academics, sports and art have been inked with my maiden name. Why would I want to change that? Is there any pressing reason? Not that I know of.

About blending into the new family, I have accepted my husband’s family even without a surname change. I am as much a daughter as I am a daughter-in-law. And a xerox copy of our marriage certificate is enough to convince authorities that we are married (whenever there is a need), so there is nothing to spoil our plans of going abroad. So what if surnames differ within a family? It doesn't make a person a stranger at all. My mom has kept her name since birth, but we still are a loving family. Isn't it strange that the same is not expected of men? Don’t they too have to accept the girl’s parents?

And having said that, why should anyone change a part of themselves for any relationship? Two individuals willingly sharing their lives, love and family without compromising on their identities - that’s marriage for me. It is bad enough that my name is tagged with my father’s, when I would have preferred just “Vidya”. I’m too lazy to take the arduous journey to Indian government offices to add, subtract, replace and modify my name. So I let it be. Vidya Subramanian it is, from birth to death and even after!!

P.S: I understand that people have their own reasons for keeping/changing/modifying their names. To each one his own! I'm thankful that my husband finds the idea of my name change equally absurd.

This post was written for the IndiSpire topic Should a woman change her maiden surname after marriage?
Linking to http://www.writetribe.com/write-tribe-pro-blogger-challenge/

Poisoned Pleasantries

Image courtesy: Google

Any social gathering, be it a wedding, a party or even a small family get together has a dangerous tendency to turn into a buzzing hive of gossip as long as there are enough people and delicious food to fuel stray sparks caused by snide remarks and incessantly wagging tongues that seem to have snapped free from the wiring that links them to the brain respectively. These meetings are the perfect times for people to catch up on each other’s lives, being “busy” at all other times. So it is quite natural that questions that prod, pry and probe into others’ lives are shot off at random, amidst the zillion interactions that happen over food and drink.

What I find absolutely amusing, is the ability of people to spice up even mono syllable answers and comments of others into emotional epics of melodrama and serve it to others. For example, a “well-wisher” asked me if I was pregnant, to which I answered in the negative. News spread that we as a couple had decided not to have kids and soon every other person in the crowd wanted my mother to “speak to me (and my generation of selfish youngsters)” to throw light on the folly of our decision. Talk about (bungee) jumping into conclusions!

At another function, someone passed a “well meaning” remark that my husband and I were saving money by eating less (both of us happen to be thin). Some others went to the extent of judging my culinary skills. Such remarks filled with malice defeat the whole purpose of getting together. Instead of going home with pleasant memories, one is often left wondering whether theses forced relations hold any meaning at all. Why make an attempt to keep in touch with people who eagerly try to bring you down all the time, no matter what you do or say?

Once, during a wedding someone went on and on in loudspeaker mode about how ugly the bride looked. I could only pray that she hadn't heard those rude words, for doesn't everyone want to think they look nice on their wedding? If only it is possible to press “mute” when some people talk! Now when I think of it, more instances surface to my memory. People commenting on the colour of your skin, your attire, your diet, your lifestyle choices, career (or the lack of it), how you choose to celebrate, where you go on a holiday, how you spend your wealth and so many other matters which I think are too personal to be dissected in public. People have their opinions, I know. But why air them all unnecessarily? Why is there a deliberate lack of connect between the tongue and the brain?

Of course, one way out is to shut these people out by giving them and their comments a cold shoulder. Sometimes it is not that easy, especially if the person is a close relative. Some people are sensitive and can easily get hurt by these bullets from mindless mouths. I don’t mean to say that we should be hypocrites and shower praise without meaning a word of it. But if we don’t have anything nice to say, isn't it better that we keep quiet. That’s what I do. Remembering the words of Mark Twain: If you have nothing to say, say nothing. How true- if you don’t have anything nice to say, golden is the colour of your silence.

Alone, not Lonely

Image Courtesy: Google

I have had many teachers in life who taught me valuable lessons – people, experiences, knowledge and so on. However I have a special teacher named solitude that helps me keep my balance in many tight rope acts. In today’s life that moves at an unprecedented maddening pace, there are times when we need to just sit back, be on our own and reflect up on our life and its course. Since our lives are overloaded with intellectual, social and emotional battles, it is imperative that we spend some time in solitude to get in touch with our inner selves.

The benefits of solitude are highly underrated because it is seen as an ally of the depressed and lonely if not the saints and hermits. Until a few years back I thought solitude and loneliness were synonymous. Prima facie they may seem to be the same as both involve being on one’s own. The similarity however, ends here. Loneliness is a forced negative feeling that can be experienced even if one is in a crowd. It implies the grief of isolation. But solitude is a choice made by the individual that involves being alone without feeling lonely. It is all about learning to enjoy one’s own company.

If cultivated as a habit, solitude is as refreshing as an oasis in the middle of a desert. It helps us to stay tuned with ourselves, our emotions and feelings. It keeps us balanced and helps us to maintain perspective apart from making us take charge of our own lives. Some of the benefits of solitude I continue to reap are:

1. Improved creativity: Being on my own in a silent place lets me delve deeper into my beliefs, thoughts and emotions and they find expression in the form of paintings, crafts, poems and articles.

2. Reflection upon actions: Solitude has a way of making me mull over my words and actions, analyse cause-effect relations there by giving me some kind of peace along with a sense of purpose.

3. Being touch with myself: My desires, fears, goals and so many other things about myself become clearer when the accompanying noises of day to day life become subdued. It helps me listen to my inner voice.

4.  I enjoy my own company: I have realized that I enjoy the company of myself as much as I enjoy being with friends and family. This, in a way has boosted my self-esteem.

5. Ideal foundation for new ideas: Solitude sparks new ideas and I find myself beginning a new hobby or doing things I previously never considered doing. It gives me that blank slate where I can paint a new picture.

6. More sensitivity: Being on my own with just my thoughts for company actually saves a lot of energy and heightens other senses. I often sit in the local park by myself where I enjoy the call of birds, the rustling of leaves and many other sights and sounds that I often overlook when in the company of people.

An hour or two of solitude a day for me is like an energy booster, almost as effective as meditation in calming down my nerves. It is my invisible refresh button, a chance to start afresh at any time during the day.



Written for the IndiSpire topic #Solitude

Linking to Ultimate Blog Challenge

and http://www.writetribe.com/write-tribe-pro-blogger-challenge/

Henpecked!

Image courtesy: Google

To my dear henpecked husband,

No I don’t intend to insult you, unlike our society ever ready with many tags that aim to degrade you, to question your testosterone levels and to reinforce its archaic, misogynistic beliefs on you so as to snub out the slightest glimmer of hope for change. To me the word “henpecked” brings renewed hope, and pride in having a partner who truly cares and believes in equality ignoring the rants and grunts of people around. A partner who dares to stand by his convictions least affected by society’s screwed up ideas of what makes a man “man enough”.

You are special my dear henpecked husband, a rare gem among a million “Indian men” out there. You actively share the boring house hold chores making them a fun activity. I can freely ask you to do the dishes without having to feel guilty (mama’s boys don’t do house work, it is meant for girls) or to press my legs when they ache. Of course you too seek my help with office work and other things.

I like it that you don’t sit snugly, propped up by pillows, watching T.V with other men while I prepare tea or clean up. I have never had to scream in my head “You are the host too!” when we have had guests. I feel loved, my presence in your life respected, when you never follow the “let men eat first” rule and make sure we eat together. You are the man of my dreams, for whenever there have been little sacrifices, they have been mutual.

Domestic chores thanks to you don’t get pushed into “woman’s domain” in our house. It is our home so together we work to keep it clean. We all feel hungry so we think nothing of sharing kitchen work. We are both educated having thoughts of our own, our own interests and ambitions. We defend and safe guard them for each other. I want you to know my henpecked hubby, that I love it that you don’t interfere in my career choices. You realize that beyond the umpteen roles I juggle, there is another me, just me with dreams and desires for myself. So do I. I promise you we will do what we love to.

Much to the displeasure of our society, you love to spend time with my parents as much as yours and realize how important it is for me to know that they are happy and well. And because you are special, you don’t expect to be showered with gifts and given a lot of importance by my family just because of your Y chromosome. You involve me in the decision you take and the choices you make.

I am truly blessed to be holding your hand in life knowing for sure that you’re real with all your imperfections. A real person with emotions that are not locked up in false perceptions about manhood (men don’t cry) with ambitions whose reasons stretch beyond the need to be a provider to the family. Love, this, let me say, is what I find most appealing in you.

These you may feel are too trivial to be written about, but I have no words to tell you about the solace they bring. It is not very easy to be a twenty first century- married- Indian -woman(feminist) with a career. It is like living in a pressure cooker forever. Those who yield to the pressures and live a life of conformity may seem to be happy, but the compromises they endure for the make-believe peace sets off a turbulent storm in their heads that rages for a lifetime.

So be proud of that label dear husband, go ahead and flaunt it.

Your Happy Hen ;)

Participating in the Ultimate Blog Challenge.

Linking to : http://www.writetribe.com/write-tribe-pro-blogger-challenge/

Queen of my Heart

Image courtesy: Google

The balm to my soul, my mother

like your soothing presence, there’s no other,

your loving smile and precious tears

string together memories for a thousand years.

So special is the love we share

that with ease our hearts we bare

to each other, lifting heaviness

wiping weariness, ushering happiness.

A child again cradled in your arms

absorbed, enchanted by your charms,

I want to sleep undisturbed once more

loved, caressed, wanted like never before.

The world may change within a blink

snapping apart many a strong link;

do remember, queen of my heart

even death cannot make us part.

P.S: I fall short of words to express my love for my mother, the woman who taught me to be soft yet strong, simple yet beautiful in my own way. The miles that separate us physically is a painful exaggeration of the distance between our hearts. She is the definition of pure, unselfish love.

Participating in the Ultimate Blog Challenge

Hospitality

Image courtesy: Google

My balcony overlooks a small hut built (illegally) on an empty plot of land by a family of migrant labourers from north Karnataka. A couple lives there with their five year old son. The man works as a construction labourer and the woman works in a few houses as a maid. Their son, a really naughty brat picks up fights with stray dogs and roams around in dirty clothes, has dirty brown hair, a leaky nose and dirty nails. They grow their own vegetables in the plot of land, pilfer water and electricity from neighbouring houses and sneak out of their house before sunrise to squat by the roadside to flush out their bowels.

We have been neighbours for the past 4 years but hardly spoke to each other until recently, there being no common language for communication and my urban conditioning raising suspicions about them being thieves or worse, frequenting my house asking for favours. But soon, the lady of the house started giving me an occasional nod and smile and so gradually I started returning them too.

As I had feared, the little boy, comforted by the presumption that his mother and I had become “friends”, frequented my house every day. He was barely three and knew neither his mother tongue nor English; a blank canvas where I could freely paint. I taught him some songs and rhymes that he seemed to enjoy, numbers, names of things and so on. He would wait for me to return from work and just barge into my house, unrestricted by the codes of conduct that I was bound by right from my childhood.

Last year, much to my surprise, his mother told me that she had enrolled him in the local school (by then we had begun conversing in short sentences, thanks to my improving Kannada). I was really happy to see him in clean clothes, well groomed, eagerly walking to school. He came home every day and told me what all he had learnt. I could see the unmistakable glint of pride in his parents’ faces when he recited “1 to 100” or “One, two, buckle my shoe”. One day, with a liberal dose of cajoling and persuasion from the boy, I accepted his invitation to their home. They were celebrating Durga Puja and wanted to do so with their son’s “first teacher”.

I was totally flattered by the love and respect I got from the entire family. Since there was enough space for only two adults to be in the house simultaneously, the boy’s mother called me in, spread out a clean mat and served hot rice, lentils and tasty sweets that she had painstakingly made with the limited facilities (a crude grinding stone and a firewood stove was all she had) while the extended family waited outside, by the road. I cannot describe in words what I felt that day, for it was a cocktail of humility, embarrassment, gratitude, happiness, sadness and surprise.

It did not end there. They had arranged clean drinking water just for me and the lady of the house gifted me with an extra helping of fruits, sweets and snacks to take home for my husband and mother. I was deeply moved by their hospitality and generosity. They could hardly afford to feed their son with fruits and sweets but felt it necessary to treat me well. I drowned in a surge of emotions. This incident was so touching; it will remain in my memory forever.

I learnt a great lesson in hospitality and reciprocated the love by sharing sweets and gifts during Diwali. I realized that to be blessed with plenty and then share the extras is one thing, but to share one’s meal when the next meal itself is doubtful is another, that requires a really kind heart. 

                                                       

This post was written as part of the Ultimate blog challenge and the Write Tribe Pro Blogger Challenge
http://writetribe.com/write-tribe-pro-blogger-challenge/

Vibrant glimpses of a fading year

Image courtesy: Google

2014 has almost faded into a bunch of memories with just a few hours left for the New Year to begin. The coming of 2015 rekindles hopes, desires and dreams in each and every one of us, but at this juncture my heart is full of gratitude for the year gone by. The year may have faded from present to past, but its glimpses remain vibrant, painted in beautiful hues by the various emotions I have experienced, people I have met and activities I have engaged in.

Being a high school science teacher, I was fortunate to be able to interact with an amazingly talented bunch of creative teenagers. Sometimes they did make me pull my hair wondering if teaching was my forte, but at other times they made me proud and taught me valuable lessons that I will never forget. By April 2014, a satisfying academic year drew to a close. I bade a final goodbye to all my colleagues during our trip to Nandi Hills.

One of the sweetest memories I have of 2014 is our first wedding anniversary. We felt it came too soon! It feels great to be married to the person who was first my colleague and then a great friend. It was a proud moment for all of us in the family, when he was awarded a doctorate. We celebrated by holidaying for 2 months! We spent a month in Doha with our brother and family. The summer heat didn't scorch our spirits at all as we had a fun time cooking, sightseeing, shopping and playing together. The icing on the cake was our nephew Manomay and his antics.

The second month of our holiday was spent in hot and sweaty Kolkata with my in-laws. Again, the heat and sweat were ignored while exploring the city’s museums and markets. We treated ourselves to the finger licking chaats, delicious mangoes, kulfies and many other delicacies. A trip to my home in Kochi proved relaxing and nostalgic. I devoured the simple meals prepared by Amma and spent time with my cousins and my darling nephew Aarav.

I revisited my long forgotten hobbies – gardening, reading, writing and painting. I started an organic terrace garden and though it is very small I’m quite proud of it. I got back to reading regularly and am stocking up some books in the hope of having a nice library one day. The itch to express my feelings and thoughts had me starting this blog with 30 plus posts in a span of four months. I am so glad I started writing as I now know how much I love it. Motivation came in the form of my article in Women’sWeb and another in The New Indian Express apart from the encouragement from well wishers and fellow bloggers.

End-of-the-year-family-time in Kolkata was fun, catching up with family and relatives and now it is New Year’s Eve being spent with my beloved husband in Bangalore. A quiet celebration so like us, away from the partying crowd. I am happy that I got to spend a lot of time this year with people who really matter to me. As a couple too, we went on short trips, picnics, cycling trips and nature walks. We did many things together with gardening, cooking and playing scrabble topping the list.

A memorable year indeed- loads of family time, discovery of hidden talents, plenty of time amidst nature and quite a bit of travelling.  Good bye 2014. This adieu is forever, but THANK YOU for all the evergreen memories.                 

Wish you all a very Happy New Year 2015!!

In the lap of nature

Taken on one of our trips

Being amidst nature in my opinion, is the most soothing, refreshing and energising experiences one can have, second only to the warmth of a mother’s lap. Born and brought up in a place where we were engulfed by swaying coconut palms, ponds studded with wild scented lilies in the purple-green background of  water hyacinths and vast open fields blanketed by wild grass and touch-me- not that would fill up during rains, creating a playground for frogs, crickets and snakes, this lap of nature rightfully belonged to me too. I would spend hours playing in the grass, feeding cows, petting them, collecting seeds, stones and just about anything that fancied me. It was the green patch in front of our house that I ran to when I did something mischievous and my irritated mother chased me.

Image courtesy:Google

Every inch of our modest garden nurtured something green- no, not manicured lawns and the yellow -green Duranta hedges (they are too business-like and formal), but wild flowers, climbers, hibiscus, jasmine a few vegetables and other plants that we mercilessly dismiss as “weeds”. My uncle and I would collect lotuses and lilies and arrange them in a jug of water to be able to adore their beauty even indoors, just as people would now click photographs and set it as their desktop backgrounds and screen savers. Study time always meant going to the balcony or terrace (unless it was too sunny or heavily pouring) with a steaming cup of tea and snacks and reading at leisure till twilight, when most of the light was gradually gobbled up by the approaching night.

Image courtesy: Google

The gentle breeze laden with freshness, the endlessly falling dry leaves, the whispering leaves, the bright green blades of grass studded with dew drops that shone with a brilliance comparable to diamonds, the golden sunshine illuminating all the minuscule particles in its path into a glittering dance, the humming bees, the flapping birds calling out to one another, the butterflies and dragonflies in their graceful dance; they all seemed to be claiming their share of nature, their mother’s lap to be a part of her. There is no end to these memories just like the infinite horizon.

Image courtesy: Google

Things are a lot different now with apartments, homes and building complexes dotting the view from my terrace and balcony. Fewer trees and gardens, courtyards sealed with concrete, rarity of birds and bees have become so common that we are all easily getting used to it. This makes a park or a small green patch all the more precious. During free time, I just rush to the nearby park, sit on one of the benches and absorb all the beauty I see around hoping to fully charge my batteries. I read books, dream and even write some of my blog posts sitting there. I am determined to spend a lot of time in the diminishing pieces of nature’s lap before it is too late. So dear whoever you are, grab every chance to sleep and play on her lap and even better, make one for yourself.

Bin It

Image courtesy: Google

2014 is slowly fading into the past as a collage of memories and we eagerly await a new beginning, a new journey through 2015. The twilight between the years is a good time to reflect about the past experiences that have shaped us into what we are at this moment, and to weave dreams of a bright future. So here is a list of 10 things I wish to dump and start afresh the next year. I don’t want to call them resolutions and make too many guilt trips in 2015; let’s say these are some things I want to stop doing and I’ll try hard not to do them, to the best of my ability.

1. Worrying unnecessarily (to be thrown out of the window)

We often forget that the past has slipped away, the future is yet to come and that the present is all that we have in our hands. Living in the present and not worrying over things that happened in the past and not mulling over an uncertain future is something I want to try and practice faithfully. I have the habit of worrying unnecessarily sometimes, even about things that are beyond my control. So next time I am faced with a distressing situation or thought, I hope to find my way through it in a calm manner. And worrying about what others will think, that’s another story in itself. I don’t want to care about it.

2. (Locking the doors to) excessive gadget and social media usage

Though I am not one of those gadget freaks, I still feel I need to keep a watch over the time I spend with my phone. I hope to reduce logging into social media sites to just once a day and not use my phone unless I have a pressing reason to do so. I wish to remind myself that my really smart phone has the potential to make me stupid and that I have a life outside the sphere of “likes” and “comments”. I don’t need to advertise whatever I think and feel (meh, happy, blessed, irritated and a million more), all the restaurants I dine at, the gifts that my husband gives me and other things that very few people actually care about. I hope to refrain from posting status updates unless I have something strong and meaningful to say.  Number of photos that I send floating into cyberspace to go down but not to zero. 

3. Compromises on health and well being (to be swatted away)

In the beginning of 2014 my husband and I had resolved to make better lifestyle choices for better health. I feel I have done justice to it by cutting down greatly on junk food. Of course, I’m human (a foodie too) and have made compromises and treated myself to pizzas and pastries. The coming year I hope to continue the efforts and take it a little further by consuming fresh wholesome meals, exercising and meditating on a daily basis. I should also make my lifestyle more eco-friendly for the benefit of my family and others inhabiting this planet.

4. Being judgmental (to be flushed out of my system)

We are all different- we differ in appearances, feelings, values, thoughts, desires and many other things. I hope to be more inclusive of the variety around me and not judge other people based on the clothes they wear or choices they make based on skewed perceptions and the limited view from the window of my mind. I want to be able to put myself in others’ shoes, at least give it a shot before taking the easier route of judging the other person.

5. Lack of confidence in my writing (to be trampled under my feet)

I love writing and that alone is a strong enough reason for me to write. I should stop inhibiting myself by needless comparisons and fear of criticism. I need to work hard in improving my writing and keep blogging regularly whether people are reading me or not. My blog is a part of my creative space and I intend to make the best of it.

6. Impulsive buying and accumulation of things (to be swept under the carpet)

Though I am not a shopaholic and am a “limited needs”  person, I still realize that there is room for improvement when I see unused stuff  occupying space in the kitchen, wardrobe etc. I am going to ask myself if I really need something before fishing out my wallet. I wish to use my creativity to the fullest and try to come up with new uses for old stuff. If unsuccessful, I will give them to someone who really needs them. An exception however is in the case of books. That’s just not possible!

7. Wastage of food, water (to be condemned)

Need of the hour, this one can’t be put off till Jan 1 2015. It’s a basic necessity that sustains life, and unfortunately millions out there still struggle for a glass of clean water to drink and a plate of nutritious food to eat. And apart from food and water, there are many other things we mindlessly throw as waste. I need to raid the dustbin to see what I can reuse and recycle. It is time to lock away the tragic memories of my unsuccessful wet waste composting attempts and start with renewed hope and wisdom from mistakes of the past.

8. Shouting in anger (to be silenced)

I’m sure there are peaceful ways of expressing displeasure and anger than shouting till the other person becomes deaf to your calls. Sometimes I immediately regret the things I mouth in fury as I don’t think I ever mean them. I should learn better ways of letting others know of my disapproval. I’m considering a crash course in anger management where I am the teacher and student. Leaving the place and talking about it later is something I wish to try the next time I sense my nostrils flaring and fuming.

9. Taking people, relations and things for granted (to be given a cold shoulder)

I can’t let excuses like “being busy” sever my relations with favourite people. I hope to overcome the inertia to make that call to a loved one to show that I really care. The clock is ticking; we are not yet capable of stopping death. I realize relationships need constant nurturing with love, care and understanding and that a little weeding of misunderstandings and ill feelings that may have sprouted will be great. Apart from people I often tend to take all the things I have, freedom and safety that I enjoy for granted. I want to dump that.

10. Procrastination (to go down the drain)

Though I enthusiastically do all the stuff I am very interested in, I tend to become lazy when it comes to stuff that doesn't interest me, but which have to be done. These include simple things like going to the bank and closing a sleepy account, cleaning up after a frenzy of cooking, cleaning my cupboard and similar stuff that I feel are “too clerical” and “boring” at times. I hope I do these things without my husband and parents having to play the role of an alarm clock (repeated alarms make it all the more boring). I should update my CV after I write this post. Boring as hell but my career is at stake!

The next time you catch me doing something I promised to dump, you can sure question me. But please try not to be the alarm!

This post was written for IndiSpire for the topic:

10 things you want to dump this year and start fresh next year !...#dump10things

Bored? That’s great!

Image courtesy: Tumblr

I often come across people who seem to be eternally stuck to the assorted gadgets in their prized possession. It really amuses me, how they apportion their time between laptops, tablets, smart phones and so many other gizmos. I fear that a lame joke that someone cracked may actually be true- that we live in an age where phones are getting smarter and people, idiotic.

Why is it that a few seconds of doing nothing makes us feel work-less, worthless and less important than people with ears plugged and fingers in perpetual swiping motion? Even a few minutes of boredom has become so intolerable in this age of the fast and furious where even food has to be “fast”. Next time you are in a public space, just look around you and you will find people torturing themselves by over-stimulating their senses. It’s true. They just don’t realize it. If a shopping mall has free Wi-Fi, even lovers would prefer texting each other while holding hands! That’s the rule. Free Wi-Fi HAS to be used.

Children seem to be as busy as professionals. Wake up, go for sports practice, go to school, come back, quickly snack, go for tuitions, come back and do homework, play, study, watch T.V/browse the internet/play video games, have dinner, sleep. On weekends, add a music/dance/swimming/karate class to the above list. I dread that day when parents may have to take an appointment with their child (after rescheduling theirs) to just hold hands and take a stroll in the park together.

I can’t help thinking about my childhood days when there was so much time at hand that boredom was something that I encountered every day. Being the only child of my parents didn't make matters very easy. I was always faced with the challenge of entertaining myself and coming up with new things to do. Since I was spared of the idiot box (Doordarshan was more depressing than boredom) and the smartest of gadgets, I found myself painting, writing, making my own songs(parodies), making use of waste materials in the house to create new things, cooking up new games and stories and finding my own methods of engaging myself in a productive activity. Things that I made and did, though far from perfect, were at least original and left me satisfied and proud.

 I can’t suppress my laughter when I think of the seriousness with which I hosted imaginary cookery shows, conducted parent teacher meetings, taught maths and English to teddy bears, dolls and sometimes even my mother. My cousins and I even scripted and enacted plays on our cot that served as our stage shrouded by my mother’s sari. I kept a secret diary, had imaginary friends, made my own code language, conducted tuition classes (yes, I earned my pocket money) for kids younger than me and did so many other interesting things on my own. I even made my own brick house (without cement) with a thatched roof in our terrace. You can imagine how bored I would have been to carry nearly hundred bricks up the stairs and make a house!

There have been other times when I just gazed out of the window, looking at the sunset or people on the road, trying to guess their stories or reflect on mine. Even as an adult, I enjoy the bout of creativity that is born after a period of boredom. Though my husband has to bear the brunt of my frustration while I am bored, the outcome is quite rewarding, really. A painting, a handmade card, a new dish, a heartfelt handwritten letter, a new hobby- the outcomes are sometimes unpredictable. Even this blog wouldn't have materialised had I succumbed to the charms of my phone and laptop that promise to entertain me faithfully 24×7.

Of course, I have nothing against technology. I too depend on it every day. I hold no grudge against children who learn different things either. The point is to stop ourselves from being enslaved by them to such an extent that without them we feel empty. Boredom is not such a bad thing. Once while I was taking class about the human digestive system, the students and I got so bored of the lesson (yes teachers get bored too!) that we decided to have some fun. I asked the students to imagine themselves as a piece of bread or dosa or whatever and write about their experience. The answers were so enthusiastically written with a good dose of humour that left us in peals of laughter. A Biology lesson was effectively turned into a creative writing session thanks to boredom.

Empty spaces can be filled with something new, but not a space that is already crammed.  Once in a while let’s take our eyes and hands away from our gadgets find some time and clear the canvas of our minds and fill it with new colours and patterns. The result will surely amaze you. So, cheers to boredom!!

Attention please!!!

Image courtesy: Google

Yesterday was Children’s Day. The numerous posts on social media reminding everyone about the importance of the day made me close my eyes and dream a little. My students in their blue and green uniform. Laughing, chatting, playing....... Then a petite girl in a pinafore with checks of black, white and red, a crisp white blouse and a red tie. She walked along the school corridors, the fingertips of her outstretched hands caressing the walls, leaving an invisible mark of her presence. She stopped and turned towards me. It was myself! Minus two decades. It was a refreshing vision, in the cozy comfort of my closed eyelids. I couldn't help letting out a childish giggle recollecting fond memories of childhood…much before the turbulent teens that would accelerate my metamorphosis into an adult.

When I was in second grade, once for some strange reason I fail to recollect, my friend Vinaya and I decided that we wanted to die. So we kept chewing our pencils, swallowing the lead that painted our teeth a powdery black. Our teacher Mini Miss spotted us sharpening our pencils with great focus, chewing endlessly at their sharpened ends, while the rest of the class paid attention to the lesson. She immediately demanded that we leave the room and wash our mouths if we wished to sit in her class. As we walked to the restroom, we asked each other why we hadn't died. Strange!

The entire class watched us (in awe, I liked to think) as we quietly occupied our seats. We felt like war heroes. So what if we had been caught and scolded. We had “dared” to try and kill ourselves with pencil lead. Now when I think of it, I guess I hadn't really wanted to die. May be just fall a little sick to gain some attention from friends, parents or teachers. An extra helping of love and care, some favouritism I thought I deserved!! May be that’s why when I oooh! and aaaahh! over small cuts, burns and bruises even now, my husband calls me a drama queen. A little bit of drama to feel like the queen of his heart. Yes, the child in me is alive and kicking!

Image courtesy: Google

Life in a Crowded Red Bus

 Buses have been an inalienable part of my life. Right from when I was a baby to the present, I have relied on them as a means of transport. In fact, it is the vehicle in which I have travelled the most. Inevitably, a multitude of strong memories and emotions are tethered to this red giant on wheels. I have been witness to and have experienced pleasant, funny, embarrassing, distressing, painful, irritating, obnoxious and even scary incidents during my journeys.

A quick primer about private buses in Kerala. They are mostly coloured bright red. Unlike other states in India, there are very few public transport buses available to commute within the city, so people rely on these bright red buses on a daily basis. Interestingly, they are not numbered route-wise but have names that I feel, give them a human touch. St.John, Hasnamol, Arafa, King, Mangalya, Jyothis, Nawaz and so on. So if you overhear someone at the bus stop saying they’re waiting for Aishwarya, in all probability it is the bus they are waiting for. Some times when seen from a distance they even seem to look human! It amuses me how my psyche fabricates humanoid images of these buses. Some look depressed or have a frowning face, some have huge nostrils and some others are decked up like a bride during festivals.

Having travelled so much in buses it would not be fair on my part to brush aside the people one encounters in them- most importantly the driver, cleaner (fondly called kili which means bird in Malayalam) and conductor (ticket collector). They are too conspicuous to miss with their numerous avatars ranging from friendly, kind and helpful to flirts, oglers, gropers and heartless beasts. Young, old, middle aged. All kinds. Then of course there are my co passengers- babies(crying or sleeping), children(school going, armed with heavy bags), working women (bathed in coconut oil, hair dripping with the oil-water emulsion), college students (well dressed, ready to flash their student travel concession cards), fish mongers and labourers (with their pots, basins, baskets and tools) and many others with their own stories of joy and grief.

Each time I step into its threshold I get whisked away into another world, a world bubbling, fuming steaming within the confines of the flaming red chassis. With not an inch to be spared, the overcrowded bus speeds away like a lunatic, least concerned about other beings on the road. Trapped inside and suffocated by the various smells and carbon dioxide laden puffs emanating from my fellow passengers exacerbated by my short stature, I make a desperate attempt to stand on my toes gasping for some fresh air. In utter disappointment, I withdraw my attempts as the slightest movement invites devilish glares, scowls and tch-tchs from the aunties poised to attack with their elbows outstretched. How can I forget those days when I helplessly watched the bus speeding past my destination due to my inept jostling skills? Or the days I scrambled out of the bus, my hair a total mess, my  duppatta caressing many a confused head as I tugged at it waiting outside the window for some benevolent stranger to throw my bag out and for another to catch it promptly and hand it over to me.

On many occasions middle aged men tried their luck in touching, pinching or pressing themselves on to women “by mistake”. Sometimes I watched helplessly, at other times I was rescued by safety pins and high heels. Infatuated drivers and cleaners sometimes refused to accept the ticket fare in spite of insistence. Once, a lady nearly fell off the moving bus as it raced ahead impatiently even before she could alight. There have been pleasant incidents too. Those lucky days when I managed to get a seat and travel comfortably, when I was helped by a lady in picking up my wallet that I thought was lost in the crowd and those days when I got to sit with friends enjoying a conversation about the most mundane of things. The luckiest day when I reached college alive and safe having travelled on the foot-board with only my feet inside, torso and head getting drenched in the merciless monsoon showers, my hands clutching the rails as if holding onto my soul which could slip away any moment.

On Saturdays and holidays I would get to sit by the window and tap my feet to the tasteless music being played by the driver, savouring the sights along the road and the breeze on my face. A luxurious gift that ignited many thoughts. On those days I often compared the journey to life. There is a beginning and an end. Many things happen between the two. People come and leave. There can be good experiences and bitter ones, some that make us happy, others that teach us a lesson. Some people and things stay with us throughout. Others depart when it is time. Some come very late in life but leave their indelible mark. Some others are never noticed. Some may have been worth noticing. In the end, however pleasant or bitter the journey, one has to move on with renewed hope. A new journey, a new beginning....a new life.

Lesson 1 for the newly wed: Advertise

It was the beginning of a new academic year. The entire school was back after a refreshing (or not so refreshing) break. It was my first year at work after marriage. Many of them at school knew about this as I had invited them for the function before we broke for the holidays. As I entered the school office I found it strange that after the expected “Congrats!”, “How is married life?”, “How was the honeymoon?” and “How are your in-laws?” people started giving me deadly looks. I cringed as they scanned me from head to toe.

Head: Sindoor and Bindi missing.

Neck: Mangalsutr/Thaali missing.

Hands: Bangles missing. Ring missing.

Toes: Toe rings missing.

Too many things missing, much to their discomfort. I have always hated jewellery especially gold. So without them I felt absolutely normal and comfy. As I smiled at every one and asked them about their holidays, I got weird responses like

“At least the mangalsutr, can’t you wear it for your husband’s sake?”

(Is my husband’s fate sealed in a few grams of gold hanging from my neck?)

“Girls these days!”

(Yes girls these days at least try to think with their own head rather than the moral policemen’s)

“Your husband or at least mother-in-law didn’t say anything?”

(They have better work to do than police me)

“How will people know whether you are married or not?”

(I don’t display labels of any other relation on my body. Apart from being a wife, I am a daughter, granddaughter, sister, aunt, friend and many others. If I displayed a symbol each for the endless relations, I would collapse under their collective weight)

“People will always respect women who wear the symbols of marriage”

(People should respect others based on qualities for which he or she can take credit. One’s religion, sexuality, appearances etc. don’t qualify for that)

I dodged most of them with smiles though I had answers and better questions with me. It would just fall into deaf ears. I should have anticipated this. I was under the notion that times had changed and people were more accepting of fresh ideas and that patriarchy did not exist in educated people’s world at least. Too naïve. I was in no mood to share my ideologies with them. I headed to my class. Only to dodge similar questions repeated by gen next with an added “Your husband has allowed you to work even after marriage, so…”

(I am an adult, the constitution says I can vote someone into power in the Indian democracy, I can get a driving licence, can get married and do so many other things. But wait, someone has to allow me to work, take care of my parents or wear clothes of my choice?)

Of course, I don’t intend to blame the children who said that. Their words reflect the society we live in. Children imbibe ideas and notions from adults around them. It is a different story if women did these things of their own free will, but most often there is an invisible but undeniably present mental filter in our heads (especially after marriage) that doesn't allow our values and ideals to permeate into our consciousness, instead lets them fade into the past as distant memories that would soon be forgotten. In the struggle to get into the good books of others, we become a new person, living someone else’s dreams, thinking like someone else, one’s identity inseparably tagged to someone else’s.

 I am myself first. I love the person I am. Happy the way I am. I have many dreams for myself. Without having to feel guilty. Only then I am ready to don the role of daughter, sister, friend and wife without losing myself.

P.S: Many people have argued with me saying that these are part of our culture, so we should accept them without questioning. I believe culture changes, it evolves. Otherwise we wouldn't have been able to get rid of many social evils and malpractices like sati. Some others tried to give me scientific reasons behind sindoor, toe ring, bangles and thaali associating it with reproduction and sexual life. Just a gentle reminder that people from other cultures too have been there, done that!

photo credit: askmir via photopin cc

Let’s talk: Alone amidst the crowd

Image courtesy: Google

He was the tiniest in my class. Cheeky, lively and bubbling with excitement all the time. Except when there was writing or reading to be done. He was an amazing actor, sometimes volunteering to act out parts of stories that I read out in class. I would often catch him strumming an imaginary guitar when the entire class was busy multiplying gigantic numbers or doing the “Chammak challo” act as I cleaned the black board. He could hardly read and write but loved listening to stories. Once, while the rest of the class was playing, I caught him sitting alone in class. I decided to give him company and invited him to a game of dumb charades. He was not in the mood.

Boy: Akka, I want to tell you a story.

Me:  Really? Which one?

Boy: No, not from any book. I made the story in my mind.

Me: Wow! That’s nice. Would you care to write it out in your book?

Boy: No Akka. I hate writing. I don’t know any spellings.

Me: Ok. Tell me.

Boy: There was once a boy who studied in a good school. He never listened in class, never did homework and was very, very naughty.

Me: Hmm..

Boy: He loved to sing, dance and act. But he hated English and Maths. His teachers always scolded him. He had no friends. Nobody liked him. His parents and sisters always punished him.

Me: Oh! That’s sad.

Boy: Yes. The boy felt very sad. He was alone all the time. One day he did not go to school. Then all his classmates missed him. But he was not at home too. His parents were worried. They searched for him everywhere. All over the earth. But they did not find him.

Me: Where did he go?

Boy: He made a rocket and flew away to another planet where nobody could find him. He was happy to be alone in that planet. Everyone on earth cried because they missed him. But the boy never came back.

Me (shocked): That is a sad story. The boy seems to be nice and maybe he WAS loved.

Boy: You know who that boy is, Akka?

I had guessed by then and enveloped by sadness, but wanted him to speak.

Me: You say.

Boy (laughing): Me!!! So easy it was. You didn’t know?!

I was shattered. The words “You didn’t know” kept echoing in my head. I had nothing to say. As a teacher, as a part of the education system, I had failed. The system has no room or time for emotions and sentiments of students. No room for diversity.  Whoever heard of testing students in acting and storytelling skills when there was so much to learn in Maths, Chemistry, History and Literature? So what if a student was lonely, stressed or depressed? In the mad rush by students, parents and teachers to complete the syllabus, prepare for exams, flaunt good grades, meet deadlines and targets, there seems to be no space for such beautiful wild flowers to blossom. They perish, their beauty unnoticed among the endless fields of similar looking flowers.