Xmas and Memories:Forever and Ever

I know xmas was like a month ago but the seasons goodwill and cheer still lingers.Everytime I stand in a crowded bus or walk past a the stream of vehicles jammed in traffic:a silent soul cocooned in the hustle and bustle around; I dream of my childhood.

I  often smell the wine,cakes and the crispy kalkals.The house decorated with red gold silver green decorations,the tree crammed to the fullest with shiny streamers,crystal balls,multi-coloured balls,handmade hangings,little stars and musical instruments and the precariously placed tiny “running” lights all add to the ambience.The numerous gifts that miraculously appear on xmas eve,the excitement that bubbles within upon seeing your name on gaily wrapped parcels,the goosebumps on your arms when the carols are played-every year the feelings pop up as strong as ever.

This years xmas was a little different.I landed home just in time for xmas lunch:an elaborate affair with my ‘extended’ close family.My cousin was getting married and the entire family-long lost relatives and all had already flocked to home base to celebrate.The tree was halfway covered with gifts,the tables were loaded with food and the noise level way past  its threshold.The soon-to-be-bride more excited about being home with everybody after what felt like a century rather than about the upcoming wedding. The posse of cousins; some lacking the artists eye and others blessed in abundance, all gathered in the hall sprawled on the floor trying to make bouquets,decorations and what-not!The humming that would turn into a full fkedged chorus,the instant fights that would dissolve in laughter,the cribbing and endless gossip-a time to catch up with everyone and everything.

I spent exactly 2 days with everyone before circumstances made me hurry back to my routine, but the memories still creep up unknowingly and makes me smile.There’s nothing like family and a huge wedding.The fact that it was xmas just made it all the more special.

HO HO HO!

Mother Of GOD Cathedral,MATRI DEI.

Some 400 years ago the portugese landed on the shores of Calicut after a struggle with the high strung Arabian Sea.The relieved sailors in thanksgiving,built a chapel on the seashore dedicated to the Lady,on land gifted by the Zamorin then.In the 17th century despite struggles between the dutch and the portugese and even lack of funds the chapel was turned into a church, a massive structure  built in a unique combination of Gothic-Baroque style, within a year.

A towering buliding in thanksgiving to the Lady-a symbol of change happening in culture and society,an indication that the roots of christianity were spreading on Zamorin soil,the beginning of an era of western education in Calicut.The first stamp of the foreign rule that was to reign in Calicut..

For the past one and a half years the church was under renovation.The people in the parish (most of them struggling for a living) running around to gather funds for a cause-to prevent the cathedral from crumbling into dust.Funds came through from a foundation in Portugal also and somehow the cathedral was re-dedicated yesterday.

All these years I thought of it as a church that looked like a mosque from a distance but yesterday I realised it was much more than just a place of worship.The pride in the faces of the parishioners was not something that could be ignored.What does it really matter whether a church looks beautiful or not?Afterall, God is everywhere.Why spend colossal amounts on it?Because it is not just a place of a worship.It is about being a community.A sign that you belong somewhere.A reminder of the stories of our ancestors and of traditions.

The current Zamorin of Calicut, a really old man  who could hardly stand spoke with great difficulty at the public function after the re-dedication of the church.He spoke with pride of his ancestor who helped the portugese build the church and how by that gesture years ago the Zamorin helped bring education to malabar.And he spoke with gratitude to the church in whose institutions he had been educated.I was surprised.Here was a man who could still be ruling calicut if his ancestors had not welcomed the portugese,a man who now merely held a title without any authority and he was extremely happy and proud of his ancestor and grateful to the church!Being educated is worth more than power and wealth I suppose.

The Portugese ambassador seemed extremely proud of how his ancestors had created a marvellous structure and by preserving this building on indian soil they were helping preserve their days of glory.For the members of parliament at the function the cathedral was a symbol of religious brotherhood in the region and a time to recall how the Zamorin in the 16th and 17th century had ordered the ladies in his constituency to marry the foreigners so that they would feel welcomed and not far from home!!For the angloindians a reminder that this was their first colony  formed when Vasco da Gama landed in Kerala via the sea route.

A massive church,a community,loads of kids,hundreds of memories..now packaged and gift wrapped.But the scents havent changed,the doves still coo and the silence welcomes you,you can feel the prayer on your lips and a song in your heart.And most of all you feel proud to be part of a heritage.

80*

This is not about a man in blue striving to reach the magical figure of 100 but the story of my grandmother who just turned 80.

She is not a famous figure in history neither has she contributed to science and technology.This is just the (short) story of a woman few people know and love.An ordinary lady who I consider extraordinary.

Christine was born in virajpet in 1929.She lost her 2 elder sisters to a deadly fever before she turned two.She lost her 24 year old brother to the plague when she was 5.The plague caught hold of her 17  year old brother when she was 7 and when she was 10 her mother had to rush with her father to a hospital in mysore,leaving her and her  younger brother in the care of a relative.The trip to the hospital didn’t save her father and he passed away leaving behind two children,a wife,some cattle,some pigs and a tiny house.Property owned by her father in a distant place was claimed by relatives who never bothered to turn back on the family and the mother of two struggled to educate her children and make ends meet.

Christine,was enrolled in a convent in the second class group where they were often served left-overs from the first class meals.She learnt to sing,sew,read and write in the boarding school where she first tasted the forbidden cream biscuits of the first class students.When she turned 18 her mother got her married to a man 16 years her senior in distant Cannanore.She was transported from a village where she took care of the household chores for a family of three to a town in which she had to take care of the whims of numerous in-laws and cook and clean and manage a household.Before she turned 19 she gave birth to her first son and within a span of  9 years gave birth to 5 sons.Days and nights kept aside for cooking and alternatively cleaning.After a long gap of 5 years she gave birth to her first daughter and later on to two more.8 children to bathe,feed,dress,run-after!!8 naughty brats..with quirky traits of their own.One son who always preferred tree tops and the other who would want to go to the toilet at the nth minute before leaving for school and the girl who wanted to behave like a boy!The early morning march for mass before the day began..Just thinking about it makes me wonder how she managed!!

The years of war and the struggle for basic necessities,things eventually progressing and finally settling down…growing old,losing her husband and daughter,travelling all over south india to stay with her children,visits abroad after she turned 70…from small town girl to a woman who went places..

An old lady who approves of marriages of understanding,love and who selects the latest fashion styles for her grand children..a lady that keeps up with times.

She doesnt have a degree or a diploma neither has she done anything except look after her family all her life, a story so very common.Yet watching her sit in her chair and grin at probably the first cake of her life set me thinking.Nowadays people have jobs,a career,money and everything that they consider important yet I wonder whether, when they turn 80 will they grin innocently at a cake and relive the pleasures that life offered them with  the utmost satisfaction that a mother of 8,grandmother of 15, who has only had a career in family affairs did?

Simple needs.Simple pleasures.Tremendous uncomplaining efforts.

Being a BITCH.

There are times when I get mad at myself for letting people make me do all their work and then pat me on my head like a puppy and walk away or worse just kick me aside at the last moment and then pretend I never existed.Every time such a thing takes place I promise myself to never be ‘used’ again and that I will stand firm on my feet and learn to say NO;gracefully.

While I was training myself on ‘better-yourself techniques’ specially formulated for me by me I had to undertake a trip to Allepey from Ekm.Since I had to reach allepey before 9 in the morning I had to leave Ekm by the 5.50 train..As usual I overslept and so had to dash to the station and barely managed to get into the train.As for a seat,muhahahaha I had booked one online earlier..yippee…a window seat too!!I made my way through the train and finally found ‘MY seat’ was occupied by a father,mother and an overdressed kid.The last time I had booked a seat online it was a number 72 seat that hadnt existed,so I was a bit confused whether this time round also IRCTC had cheated me.I forced myself to ignore the growing distress within me and politely ask ‘Daddy Dear’ happily sitting near the window whether that was seat no 54.”Daddy dear’ said “yes this is seat no 54″ I said “Thats my seat” and showed him my ticket.He checks my ticket through narrowed eyes and orders me “Just sit in the aisle seat,thats empty”.Excuse me!! But ‘daddy dear’ was sitting in MY seat and directing me like he owned the train to sit somewhere else!!humpf..My ‘inner voice’ kept screeching at me ‘dont let him flatten you like a chappathi’ and so I gathered the sweetest ‘I’m-NOT-a-ball-of-chappathi-flour’ smile I could and asked him to ‘please vacate’ my seat for me.And he  got up and went and sat in his seat.Now during this time ‘Mummy dear and Baby dear’ minds were busy shooting ‘How could you??’ darts at my mind.I ignored them.I was extremely pleased that for once I got what was mine and by demanding for it, the world hadnt collapsed and neither were any issues created.

But my happiness did not last long.’Baby dear’ wanted to stand by the window and she chose MY window to stare out and admire the scenery.I waited.First she started stamping my feet,then she put her arms across the sill and leaned across me and pretended that I did not exist.She then tried to make space between me and the window by kicking my bag and grumbling.Now had she asked me ‘could you make some space for me?’ or even smiled at me or say even stood there like an angel I would have given her my seat just out of pity but no, instead she chose to treat me like a rag bag!Okay,I know she is just a kid,she is doing it out of curiosity,she just wants to sit by the window.Even though my brain accepted all these arguments my mind just cast them into a bin.I saw that little girl as one among those I always move aside for, just to avoid confrontations.I started behaving like a number one BITCH!

I let that little girl stand there and pretended she did not exist.For every kick she gave me I moved my feet towards the window thereby effectively putting a greater distance between her and the window.When the intensity of the kicks increased I gave her a stare and asked her to ’stop it’.I sat there with a smile on my face that said ‘I was enjoying my window seat journey’ and even ended up giving her a silent ‘when will you give up sweeeeetheaaarrrt dare?’

Well she was a fighter alright and she stood there trying various tricks for an hour after which she went crying to mummy about how she couldnt sit near the window!!But I still dint feel sorry for her…even when she stood there by the window and dozed off for a few seconds my heart did not melt.I had turned into Miss. Rock-Stone.

And even after she sat near mummy dear, baby darling tried spitting tea on me discreetly!!

But it did not matter to me whether they liked me or not or what they thought of me.There I was,underhandedly fighting with a 8 year old kid and I wasn’t feeling ashamed or even letting go of it.To me it was a test, whether I was gonna continue being a martyr or live for me.

The whole incident was stupid and not worth a second thought.I could just have gotten up and sat somewhere  else quietly and I still would have reached allepey.Depriving that little girl of the window seat didn’t really benefit me yet that momemt I did not see a little girl in front of me.All I could visualise was a person who was trying to get me to do something without resorting to simple courtesy or manners.In a second all those instances in which I had quietly given in to things to avoid confrontations flashed before my eyes and there I was battling it out in a 10 inch space with an eight year old.

Shame on me!But I felt relieved when I alighted that atleast once even though it was a child I had finally learnt to say a big NO.

Just question marks ?

After spending years on planet earth I wonder what it feels like to be gone.Do you get transformed into some other individual or animal or go up to heaven/hell or roam about on the face of the earth? However old you are and even if you claim to accept death does one really accept it?Afterall no one has ever come back from the dead to give us mortals any vivid description.

The Archbishop Daniel Acharuparambil passed away today and well the news channels televised what the big shots had to say about him,his contributions and most importantly how humble he was.Even though it was interesting to hear the story of a small town boy grow into ‘the shepherd who guided the sheep’ in kerala (atleast the latin faction) I was more fascinated by the people who eulogised about him,the Big shots of the syrian,malankara,orthodox,marthoma and names-I-dont-know factions.Different faction leaders in different weird clothes.But all of them had one thing in common-age.One ‘bhava’ in particular looked as if he was just waiting to be carried to the grave!I wonder if it occured to them that tomorrow its gonna be their turn.Yeah,we all have our turns but when you are that old you are practically counting the days you have left!

Many years ago, I got up in the middle of the night, unable to breathe and felt certain that I was gonna die.I even saw a face-figure outside my window and I was so sure that it was a sign that I was gonna die.I couldn’t call out to my mom and dad and my whole body was ice-cold and all I could think of was whether there was some way to get out of it.Nothing occurred to me and I resigned myself to the fact that it was my last.I stretched out my legs,lay in a ‘attention’ position and waited for  the unknown.I closed my eyes and simply waited.Seconds passed by and nothing happened.I couldn’t bear it any longer.I jumped up and rushed to my parents room and made space for me on their bed.I still couldn’t breathe properly (It wasnt wheezing or anything I just couldnt breathe!!) but felt immeasurably better that I was gonna die while I was near my parents!!I slept off then and when I woke up hale and hearty in the morning I laughed at my stupidity.But till date I havent forgotten how tense I was waiting for death to claim me.

Maybe when you grow old you get equipped with dealing with it..or maybe you get so frightened that you get a heart attack then pass away!!How lame

Everything is such a mystery..life and death.Wonder whether science in its race to cure all sicknesses,find about the evolution of life,the universe,other forms of life in outer space,all the test tube creations,genetic modifications will one day solve the mystery.

What are we actually?Are we here just to go through the motions of life?Great people have left a mark of their own in this world,but what about the remaining majority?What were they supposed to do,be props on a stage set for the great actors?

Who knows and how many really care?

Sheer Boredom.Response Wanted.Urgent.

I’m booored.The finger curling, stretch your legs,lift your arms,yawn away to glory,blink lazily  kind of bored.

And I cant catch a few winks either.I caught too many and now its just my mouth going yawn-yawn and my brain feels fuzz-fuzz.My eyes stay strictly wide open!

I’m thinking of having a long leisurely scented bath,like the ones you see in soap ads..a cool white tub,with frothy scented water and rose petals in which you can luxuriously soak in.But I dont have a tub nor do I have an abundant supply of rose petals.I’ll have to make do with a few buckets and some arm exercises..That should invigorate this bored soul!!

I still remember the day I first used the word bored.I was stuck in school waiting for my dad to come pick me up and all the other kids had left.The basket balls were locked up and I had the whole playground to myself and two deflated rubber tyres for company.I thought then ‘This is called boredom.’

Over the years I’ve heard people say I’m bored so many times that its just another word.But today I heard a story of a lady who committed suicide possibly because she got bored in the middle of the night.Another guy was so bored of doing his regular exercises in the usual place that he decided to use the railway tracks to do his push-ups and got killed.What a waste of two perfectly good lives.After I heard these stories however I thought  ‘This is called effects of boredom!’.

I think being bored is a fashion with the younger generation.I have never heard the older generation ever say the word BORED.And it is this older generation which actually does the same old things over and over again.Is lack of repetitiveness the cause of boredom in the younger gen?But then again isn’t boredom caused by doing the same old thing over and over?

Okay,by now I’m sure you guys who are reading this are bored?So could you do me a favor and comment on what exactly you feel when you are bored?Its just a survey,call it a research if you want to.But I would like to see some responses.Please.

I’m very curious.Let not curiosity kill this cat!

I Miss You.But I dont WANT to.

I hope you know that I miss you.A lot.

I dont think I’ve ever lain on your shoulder yet right now I miss your shoulder the most.You dont belong to the muscle man category yet why do I have this image of super strong in  my mind?They say love is blind and I think they got it right cause right now I think you are the most handsome guy on earth.Keep all these comments safe in your heart cause I doubt you are ever gonna hear that from me again.And your voice!!Thats what is driving me nuts right now!!

I’m angry with you.Okay, that is a lie.But I am mildy irritated with you.How come I miss you in a way that is driving me bonkers and you get along without even a single ruffle with your life?I absolutely and totally detest that.Its not fair!!

And want to know what’s worse?I actually feel like I’m gonna die of heart ache every time I miss you.Sheesh.Stupid heart just cannot put you out without getting bruised somewhere or the other.I call this treachery.My heart shows its allegiance to you rather than me!How come your heart doesnt do the same??I wish I could say that I if I see you now I’ll be sooo happy that I would hug you tight and never let go.But NO.Thankfully you are not here right now.Else,I would have killed you for making me feel this way!

Look, the truth is I DONT want to miss you.I dont want to love you.But I cant seem to turn off these emotions like a tap.
Why not?

You better find a solution to this.Either you get out and never come back into my heart or you better stay still there and not play football in that little space.Humpf!

Oh and can you not mind invading my dreams?If you continue to do so I will be forced to do what I did the other day:Imagine you Bald.Its not a very pretty picture Mister.

But,if you send me chocolates and flowers and cause little tear drops to gather and make my voice falter I think I will forgive you trespassing in my dreams.Hopefully.Depends on whether I will find it mushy then.

So bide your time and be suitably romantic when the opportunity arises.

Until then Take care.

xoxoxoxox

Of Hopes And Dreams

I have always had dreams but I have never dreamed.

People often ask me ‘what is that one dream you have,that one thing you hope for?’ and I never have an answer to that.I flow with the tide.I’ve chartered a boat for now though.(I hope that the boat will be upgraded to a ship later on!)

As a child,I wanted to be a mason,to plaster walls perfectly;I wanted to be a painter who would climb up buildings and paint walls in perfect strokes;I wanted to be a fishermonger who would sell smelly fish that would soon transform into mouth watering delicacies, chopping fish in bang-bang perfection;I wanted to be a nun dressed in a white habit serenely teaching her students;I wanted to be a pilot flying high above the sky seeing the clouds passing by;I wanted to be a scientist dressed in white coveralls and peering into a petri-dish;I wanted to be a doctor performing miraculous surgeries on malnutritioned patients;I wanted to be a priest offering the sacred mass;I wanted to be a computer engineer whose fingers would speed over a keyboard while his eyes would remain glued to the monitor;I wanted to be a lawyer fighting it out in court;I wanted to be a journalist with hair that curved perfectly inwards and speaking with rounded mouth and shrewd eyes;I wanted to be a politician rallying around for campaigns;I wanted to be an archeologist digging up fascinating civilisations;I wanted to be an oceanographer out at sea with the dolphins;I wanted to be an army officer with medals hanging on my shoulder and chest;I wanted to be a waitress like Jennifer Anniston in Friends(once was).

I would dream of all these things as I sat on the back seat of my dad’s scooter,the wind in my ‘jungle-book’ hair and a non-sense song on my lips.A song in an alien tongue whose meaning I never knew(since it was what I created!!) yet was so filled with hope that it would make me joyous.Every day the tune would be different,the dream would be different,the words sometimes just a gargle of sounds.The sun would have set and the city would be cloaked in twilight.My journey home was an adventure.Everyday.

I’ve dreamed of having a tape-recorder life in which when you press fast-forward you get a sneek view into the future.I’ve dreamed of the book-machine,one which transports you into the book you are reading and you live there in a boarding school eating ‘apricots and ginger-ale’ whatever that was supposed to be! I’ve dreamed of being an animal,a dog,cat,cow,donkey and being the president of India.I’ve dreamt of  being buried alive and how I’d escape through a brilliant plan that involved mud dissolvers!!

And whenever I dreamed I would hope.Hope, desperately that it would come true so that I could try out my various strategies!CRAZY!

Today,I’m 21-feel-like-16 years old and I feel like I’m watching my life in a slow motion video.But when the sun sets everyday, I begin dreaming and hoping with the zest of a child.But nowadays ‘I Dream’ not dream.The vision is not very clear,and the figures are blurred,there is no ending or beginning.But with every sunset,the haze is diminishing.Its not like the tape-recorder dream but more like the ‘one-step-at-a-time’ climb the Everest dream.Nowadays, hope is not like a burst of lightening either but more like a pot of tea simmering on the stove.But it is still extremely satisfying.

But I still wish that my Everest dream had a fast-forward button!Guess you never can never prevent lightening strikes!!

Innocence

Flowers