Lost........

Sigh........ If I hadn't gotten hooked to Lost back in 04-05 and If I wasn't such a wikipedia addict, I wouldn't be feeling so strangely sad right now.....Sparto - this is all your fault!

Deep within.....

"When is this movie going to end???" thought I, and buried my head in mummy's lap, all set to fall asleep right there on the floor below the sofa where she was sitting.

I was watching (and getting extremely bored with) 'Loudspeaker', a Malayalam movie starring Mamooty with ma and pa. But no, both mum and dad were too engrossed in the proceedings to notice that I wasn't even pretending to be interested anymore. And then, very unexpectedly, I heard a line from a song papa used to sing all the time when Sparto and I were kids... "Nammude nenjilage anuraga karikkin vellam......". I sat up instantly, hoping for a song as wonderful as the promise held in that one slowly sung line ..and I wasn't disappointed. This was one of those moments that define "serendipity" for me. A song that I would play atleast 30 times that evening was the last thing I expected to come across.

Beautifully picturised in a way that is bound to touch the soul of anyone with roots in Kerala and including many of the elements that define Kerala for me - water, monsoons, summers, ponds, sands, the sea, mangoes, boats, lush greenery, pretty girls with long hair and kajal-lined eyes, old houses with sloping tiled roofs to combat the rains, ponds filled with green water, dark grey storm clouds, men dressed in white dhotis, joint families, kathakali performances and of course memories of childhood vacations :)

For me, the answer to 'where do you come from' is always going to be Bangalore, never Kerala. I love B'lore, it's my hometown. It is the place that has shaped me. Kerala, I tend to think of the place where my parents come from, where my roots are, though I don't really 'get' or identify with the culture, the politics, or the complicated social relationships. It annoys me a little when complete strangers ask intrusive questions or decide give their opinions on personal matters just because they live in the same area! I should probably cut this here, as I can write pages about my feelings (good and bad) about Kerala. But thats just the point - I can't 'not react to' Kerala. It's impossible to do so. Because the place is meshed to my soul. Why else would music videos with dark clouds against green waters tug so strongly at my heart?
'This land is my land' as Sparto says, though if anything, he's even more a Bangalorean than I am....

For the love of books :)

Somewhere in her email today was this line - "Sigh! sometimes i wonder y i read those classics...its so hard to ignore the heroes of yore..". I smiled. Because I blame the books too, for many many things :) For things ranging all the way from incurable romanticism to hypochondria. For the rose tinted glasses and the real ones too :) For the love of happy endings and for the depths of misery when things end no-so-happily :(. For being a bit of a drama queen at times. For the total inability to take things at face value. And of course like she said for expecting men (S to be accurate) to be Rhett Butler, Roark, Darcy, and many others all rolled into one :))))

The speed of Truth

It is the instant reponse that forms in our minds. But in the time that the answer is articulated, it has already evolved to be more palatable, polished, or even disingenuous. 

Patriotism

"Jab yahan ki reth nahi tickthi, tho log kya tickhenge" (when even the grains of sand here don't have any cohesion, why would the people here stick together?) said the stranger to me a few months ago, kicking the desert sand in Dubai around with his feet.
The words came back to me suddenly while walking in the city centre this evening watching people go about their lives in the gentle snowfall, insulated against the cold and against each other as well. Make me an Indian everytime dear God!

The ties that bind

Found it. Finally.
http://thedjinn.blogspot.com/

Changes...

"Your hair is really quite curly!” said S.
I was in the middle of cooking dinner, and hadn’t had the time to brush out my damp hair. Since we've been married for almost 4 years now, the keen observation made me send a mock evil glare his way. Maybe it’s just a casual remark, I think, and reply (with some pride), "Yes, I get it from my Dad - my hair curls just like his".
"It's hard to tell, coz your dad is quite bald!" laughed S.
This time my evil glare and indignation were quite genuine "My dad, bald!!!, how can you say that!! He has curly hair!”. S (looking quite perplexed now) tells me that it is true that my dad is quite bald and asks if I hadn’t noticed yet. So I think about it and reluctantly agree and then redraw the picture in my head of my dad. Sigh! Sometimes the passage of time sneaks up on us quite stealthily... And I'm left wondering if I need to redraw the picture of me I have in my head as well....

The Storytellers

The gifted storytellers. We've all met them. These are the people who can bring tears to your eyes when they tell you about the little abandoned puppy that they met on the road. Who make an explanation of the rules of playing Golf sound interesting. Those whose jokes never fall flat. Those who have you laughing till your sides hurt when they narrate the funny incidents that happened at work. Who incite anger against strangers when they tell you 'their version of the story'. The people who paint pictures and spin magic with their words. Sometimes I wonder what is that makes them so. Is it something to do with the schools they went to as children?, or is the underlying passion behind the words that brings the story to life?, or is it something about their voices?, is it something learned - like the right moments to pause and the right intonations?, or is it simply an unconscious gift passed on from father to son or mother to daughter?