I and Unny are participating in a contest by Hindustan Motors – the Great Driving Challenge.
Do help us to get into the final by voting for us.
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25 things few people know about me! Ever since mixedblessings89 tagged me (it’s quite some time now), I was trying hard to figure out what few people know about me. I secretly(?) went and checked some of the blogs that took up this tag. No, I didn’t have the slightest intention to do CtrlC-CtrlV. Anyways, I was still clueless after reading a few posts.
Does that mean I am so transparent? People can see through me? Oops! That could also mean I am hollow. No way! I am full of substance, though few people know that. There it is… The first thing few people know about me.
For the remaining 24, I ‘made up’ this list. :-)
2. I am quite romantic though I don’t look like one.
3. I have three birthdays. No, I was not born thrice. Just that my date of birth in official records is two months earlier than the original one, and I’ve a star birthday.
4. My first poem (in Malayalam) was published in the children’s magazine Lalu Leela some time in 1980s. It was about my cat.
5. I had cats; 16 at one point of time. Reared and buried quite a few of them.
6. My first short story (in Malayalam and last so far) got second prize in a competition held by the local fine arts club and it was later published in the school magazine.
7. I remember most of what I hear except the classroom lectures. So get bored when people tell me the same stuff again and again and sometimes contradict themselves.
8. I intend to write my autobiography.
Enough of gloating.
9. I get angry fast.
10. I can be nasty at times.
11. I don’t bother about what others think.
12. I’m not religious, but I know there’s God.
13. I (we) decided not to have kids even before marriage.
14. I like kids when I'm not responsible for them 24x7.
15. However, I feel responsible for the whole world, but too lazy to save it.
16. I like being alone and I like being with family and friends.
17. I was crazy about Hindi movies in my teens. My favourite hero was Mithunda.
18. For washing cloths, I don’t trust anybody except myself, my mother, sister-in-law, and IFB washing machine.
19. I like only the curd I make or the packaged ones.
20. I don’t like to see oil in my food – I mean in the non-fried ones.
21. I’ve tried many times to become a vegetarian and failed. Then I married a pure vegetarian. That did work partially. I am a vegetarian most of the time.
22. I get put off by insincerity.
23. I like those who act over those who just talk.
24. But I often talk and not act.
25. So I believe, “Everything that irritates us about others can lead us to an understanding of ourselves." - Carl Jung
Now I feel I can write more. Who will have the patience to read it?
Meanwhile, mixedblessings89 gave me the Honest Scrap award.
I honestly made this 25 things up. :-)
The title might ring a bell to Keralites of my generation. All India Radio, Trivandrum used to air a programme for dedicating songs, every Sunday at 3 pm. Not sure if they still have it. That was a time when cable TV was unheard of. Probably, it was the only programme where the audience could mail requests to broadcast English songs dedicated to someone of their choice. I don’t know if it was a popular programme because English songs were (and are) alien to me.
Today, TV channels are inundated with mutants of phone-in/write-in/SMS-in programmes.
I pooh-pooh the people who calls or writes with much passion and enthusiasm. Who has the time to do all these? Non-bloggers might be thinking the same about bloggers.
Then I realised I am a hypocrite.
Long back, I too had written to Sunday Selections. Well, not exactly. I hadn’t even heard about this programme until a hostel friend explained it to me. We were a gang of 17 gals and had named ourselves DDTs. Can anyone guess the expansion? We even had a logo. Okay, let me not digress. We made sure to celebrate everyone’s birthday. A gift was given and a treat was taken in return. Once, for G’s birthday, R came up with a new gift idea – to dedicate a song to G through Sunday Selections. That was when I first heard about it. We bought a post card (15 paise – misers we were!) and sent in our request. I don’t remember the song we had requested. G would be at home on Sundays. Somehow, we managed to get her listen to the programme, without revealing our secret. Those who were doomed to be in the hostel got a pocket radio. A red one, I remember.
So we sat at different parts of Kerala on that Sunday afternoon eagerly waiting for our letter to be read. Sadly, it was never read. Later, someone told us that they would give preference to letters written on fancy papers. Our humble postcard didn’t even stand a chance. Next day we told G about our failed attempt to sponsor a song for her.
I remember listening to Sunday Selections a few times after that. But it didn’t have the charm to retain my interest. But our excitement and the later disappointment is something I should consider while scoffing at the participants of today’s programmes.
Other than the song dedication programmes, I don’t like the reality shows, which many are crazy about. I can watch the former for its songs, but I can’t stand the latter. Facebook is another place where I feel lost. All these “What kind of a cat/dog you are”, “Do you have brains”, “Which famous people share bad hair day with you,” stuff do not kindle my curiosity. I ignore requests to join groups like “I love Upma”, and “I like the smell of drain – oops, rain”.
Does age has anything to do with lack of appreciation for all these new trends? Maybe.
Oh! Life’s so boring. Nobody wants me. Come rain or shine, I stand here day in and day out. No one wastes a glance at me. (Sob sob…)
Eh! Who’s that? Here come two well-dressed ladies. I guess they are mother and daughter, going home after a big shopping. They’re checking the bills. Ladies, if you don’t want them, give it to me. I’ll take good care of them.
No! They dropped the papers on the roadside and left in an auto. Am I not standing just 3 ft behind them? Still… (Sob sob...)
Now, where is that stink coming from? The garbage van has already left. Good grief! Smells like she and her clothes haven’t seen water for ages. I don’t like stinky people, though ignorant people call me stinky. What’s this mad woman doing? Okay, she’s having food. After eating, she’ll leave all the trash behind. I’m sure.
Ugh! She’s even peeing there. Disgusting! Doesn’t she know only men can pee in public? Where are our culture police?
She’s leaving at last. I can open my nose and breathe now. But she’s coming towards me. What! She’s stuffing me with the leftover food and waste paper. I can’t believe this. I feel happy. What if she’s stinking? She’s using me.
Hey, she’s crossing the road. Be careful, dear. These drivers are mad nowadays. What’s she doing? Picking up something form the middle of the road. What’s she going to do with an empty cigarette packet and bits of paper? She’s coming back to me. She has also picked up the papers dropped by the ‘ladies’.
She’s giving me all the trash she picked up. Am I dreaming? Let me pinch myself. It’s real!
Sorry my lady. I was so rude to you earlier. I even called you stinky. Now I wonder who is stinky. You or those ladies.
From Waste Bin Diaries
A friend of mine was forced to do cooking, serving, and cleaning, when he was a kid. He hated doing this, but there was no choice as his parents chose to turn a blind eye to his plight. They were scared of his paternal grandfather. I don’t know the details. Whatever it was, this boy grew up with anger towards his parents and hating any sort of kitchen/house work. When he was able to stand on his feet, he confronted his parents and told them how angry he was and how they had let him down. After this, his anger subsided, but could not bring himself up to do any housework. He adored his wife, but never helped her in the kitchen. It was fine with her as she was not working full time; she enjoyed cooking; and there was a maid to do washing and cleaning.
Then, wife became pregnant. I went to see her during the initial months of pregnancy. That day, it was he who had cooked lunch. I was surprised. This guy, hurt by his parents’ insensitivity, wants to a better parent. And he’s going to try real hard. To overcome his negative emotions about cooking, he decided to cook a meal all by himself. “It was terrible. I almost relived the pain of my childhood. But, it’s worth it. I don’t want to set a negative example to my kid by showing dislike to housework.” he told.
Another friend also was abused as a kid. He had to work in a relative’s hotel, deliver food around, and was ridiculed by family members. After he got married, he refused to do any work at home. His working wife had to take care of everything from cooking to getting his shoes ready to wear. On Sundays, he would ask her to cook his favourite food and go out to play cricket with friends. In effect, he expected more of mothering from his wife. Again due to whatever he suffered in his childhood. Wife, due to her own childhood baggage, was eager to please him and accommodated all his demands initially. Later, she started complaining about his insensitivity, but it was of no use. He didn’t even think he’s insensitive; so where is the question of changing?
I’m not in touch with them now. I heard the wife is expecting. Does this father also try to deal with the childhood pain and get over it? So that he can set a good example to the child? I hope he does. We want more sensitive kids in this world.
So far it was about others’ experiences. Though not of such magnitude, I have been able to trace out the roots of some of my behavioural traits and pull them out. I’m pretty sure that many of us will be able to track the origin of certain irrational behaviour, anger or hatred and deal with it. In some cases, because of the pain we had endured, we would’ve suppressed it deep in our minds. We would not even admit that the wound is there. It’s a kind of defence mechanism by the mind to escape from the pain. Unless we probe our minds and get in touch with it, it’ll manifest in our behaviour. It’ll be painful to do this, but the results are worth the effort.
Normally, I would not have read this interview. But the blurb – “I will spend every rupee I earned on myself. Let my kids fend for themselves” - caught my attention. It was actor Nazaruddin Shah’s response to a question if he had received his share of fame and money from the film industry. Answering in affirmative, he said he would not leave any of that for his children.
Shikha Sharma, MD & CEO, ICICI Prudential Life Insurance, also has similar views about leaving an inheritance for her children. To quote from an interview, “They have to earn on their own. We’ll fund their education, but they are not getting any inheritance from their parents!”
I couldn’t but appreciate the detachment they expressed. Shah and Sharma would not have kept aside their dreams to support their children. But most middle-class parents slog their entire life to ensure a comfortable life to their kids. Their responsibility does not end with providing education. Daughters have to be married off lavishly with a hefty dowry. A host of other society-enforced demands that follow the marriage and birth of grandchildren have to be taken care of, which only translate to more expenses. Money need not be spent on sons’ marriage, but they have to deal with the expectations on their wealth – be it the house or that hard-saved fixed deposit.
Where is the end to the expectations on parents? Are they meant to live and die for their children? When will they gather enough courage to declare that their children would not inherit their money? When will they stop feeling guilty in spending money on themselves instead of saving it up for kids?
That expensive sari or much-dreamt-about vacation was rarely affordable in their prime years. At least, in the old age, let them live out their postponed dreams.
I went there to help them learn
And, I learned how much I don’t know
Or how much I am yet to learn!
I don’t know what to do…
When a kid refuses to respond
When a kid keeps fidgeting
When a kid says he/she hasn’t seen
The things we take for granted
I don’t know what to say…
When a kid stumbles at table of two
When a kid can’t read ‘tie’
When a kid says he/she couldn’t study
Because parents were fighting
I know I’ve failed to help them learn
And I’ve failed to learn
Still, I am trying…
(Thoughts from my volunteering experience at Akanksha, an NGO involved in teaching less-privileged children)
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