No ticket for me !

I usually have to drive past a school to get to work. As usual me and rocky were on our way just 45 mts after noon. I had a meeting at 1pm so I wasn’t sparing any time. But driving past a school also means that I had to drive slow. At the same time, from my rear view mirror, I spotted a cops car behind me, and reluctantly put on my seat belt.

Just then like some old world charm, he started flashing his light at me, and I was nodding my head in denial and pulled over.

This was the first time ever in PA that I was stopped. The other time was in Chicago and that incident was so funny that I’ll have to blog seperately. Anyway, I had zillion things on my mind so i didnt have any energy left to "act" cautious.

The cop heads over to ask me “Do u know why u were pulled over.”
Before I could say “Was I speeding?”
He broke the awkward pause by saying “Your registration sticker is from last year, u need to change that”. Then he goes on to ask me for my driver's license, registration...the whole thing basically.

I grabbed my huge purse from back seat and looked for my wallet, grrh…I couldn’t find it, shoot, not today ! I looked again, no luck, and so without choice I sheepishly told him i changed my purse this morning and i forgot to get my wallet with me : (

I guess as any man with a lady in his life would know this situation, he nodded, and said dont worry, just give me ur DOB, Name and last 4 digits of ur social. And I did. I was sure he was going to give me a ticket in the next few minutes.

As any suspense thriller unfolds, i had to wait tapping my finger on the steering wheel while he went to his car to run by my dl.

He returns in few minutes and says well everything’s fine, just put the sticker, and this time I wont give u the ticket. I did a small victory dance in my heart. It’s that time of the year with magic in the air, even cops kinda take it lil’ easy I guess.

Then he continued that “Tell your husband his DL expired 16 days ago, if he gets cited his DL will be suspended, all he has to do is go to DMV and renew it”.

I was like what ! why did my husband’s DL is being discussed when he pulled ME over. Anyway, I politely thanked and headed back to work with rocky.

Ho Ho Ho !

Last Thursday (12/21/06) at work, while I was giving a present to someone I really look up to, another colleague asked “so where’s my present”. I replied Santa hasn’t finished making his rounds in India, once he finishes that, he’ll bring ur’s too. He responded in a very bah-humbug way, that there is no Santa, (so much for imagination, huh). So, I told him yes, there is and I could prove it to him. He said fine, let’s see what u got.

In a bizarre spirited coincidence, the next morning when I was reading news I saw a picture of Santa being given a speeding ticket by the Indian cops in Ahemdabad !

Just as I said : )

Peace with God

My two darlings, ammi and baba left for their hajj trip today along with my mama & mami. I pray for their safe trip. We've been talking about this trip for a while and now the day has dawned on us, and i feel terrible that i'm not with them. I take comfort in the thought that I helped them pack, at least that. I’ll miss talking to them on a daily basis, but I’ll be with them in spirit. Love you both…

Lagee kya…

I love creative ads that tickle ur brain and heart. Like the Corona beer’s ad, simple yet with clear message. Anyway, I recently came across this one in India, where a little kid is enjoying his chocolate under the tree, while a cabbie is reversing his car with the tree in the back,
The oily haired pan chewing cabbie turns around and asks “oye, dekh lagee kya”
the kids says “nahi nahi, aajao”
so he backs a little and asks “oye, dekh lagee kya”
the kids looks again and says “nahi nahi, aajao”
so he backs a little more and hits the tree and looks at the kid angrily
and so kid replies “haa ab lagai”

With his eyes naughtily smiling, he returns to peacefully sitting under the tree and unwraps his remaining chocolate. Some simple pleasures just cant be interrupted.

Kabul Express at 4.15 on Sat

After few loads of laundry and one in the washer, we decided it's time to take a break and headed to see Kabul Express in Doylestown, PA. It's about 45 minutes drive and hmm...i'd say about 45 miles away. The movie was into 3 minutes when we got there. But loved the rest of the story.

Picture courtesy of Wikipedia
Spoiler warning: Plot and/or ending details follow.

My fave part about the movie apart from Arshad and John was Hanif Hum Ghum. He adds the "regular Afghani guy who's seen it all" kinda character to the movie, he's someone you'd love to meet in real life.

The power of gun, the fear of death, the love of Indian cigarettes, common ground of Md. Rafi, longing to meet families, and not to forget the localites prank of donkey on travellers...drives these people to understand and tolerate one another. The movie almost humanises the face of one of the talibs but the responsibilities the journalists and reporters carry on their shoulders is enormous.

There were few shots i really liked, one's in the car where the talib says, at gun point to Arshad that "thumhari duniya alag hai". Meanings to such sentences come to life only in such situations. The stark difference in the preciousness to life and no fear of death between these people is amazing to notice.

Another shot is when the talib is doing his wazoo before namaz, looks at this american female journalist. You'd think that he's looking at her with bad intentions but as the movie goes on, you'd know that he sees in her what he'd have seen in his daughter. This is a must see movie, it briefly touches the politics of war but takes us into the journey of 3 journalists, one driver of Kabul Express, and the talib who meets his fate in the hands of his own country men.

You walk out of the cinema, wondering who to blame, if u see a quality of a friend in ur enemy, does it make the enemy your friend, who really is your enemy then?

Buick in green

It’s cold and rainy here, so the familiarity of the Buick green car that I came across in two days was something I couldn't pass to mention.

The first time I saw it, I liked his bumper sticker, which subtly stands out to say…

“No one died
When Clinton lied”.

Way to go, Buick in green. Aren't we all living the verities of war in one way or the other.

Yaootza!

I wanted to say just that, before heading to india, so post my 3 weeks vacation, I'll say that again - yaootza with a bang. From the time, I caught my flight in New York to Hyderabad and back, all the series of events are imprinted in my memory as a string of bookmarks. Maybe i should change the title of this blog as tale of 3 cities, Philadelphia, Hyderabad and Rajahmundry. All three very close to my heart that i have a undying patriotism to them.

I thoroughly enjoyed the thought of direct flight to Hyderabad, since I had taken the route via Bombay the last few times and hated it. What amazed me most was the sight of a father traveling with his toddler sans the mother. An interesting thing about being an Indian is there is no guesswork necessary, by the time I came out of the immigration line in Hyderabad, I knew that his wife didn’t get the vacation since she’s a contractor in CA, and since his parents never saw the 3yr old kid, all the family, relatives everyone are waiting to see the toddler and are at the airport to receive him, so that’s why he’s changing the clothes of the child. The father was even keeping an eye on the other kids in the plane who were traveling only with their moms without their pops. One guy, I saw in the flight went to the extent of taking the liberty to leave his duty free bought liquor with me while he can go and do more shopping, in a state of dumbstruck I first accepted but later spotted him making a call in fursat, so I gave him a small gentle piece of my mind and got back.

The echo of sounds and sights of heavy traffic, the incessantly ring of phone at home, the brightness of the light switched on by the maid in the early hours, my mom and dad’s bright voice and face while I climb down the stairs, the sight of street lights with the back drop of vendor’s banners lining the walls of the big buildings in the dark of the night, all this was riotously surfing my heart. I’m unable to shake the feeling of that familiar eeriness that I so love, and though with my body I’m here, my heart seems to left behind in that very heavy traffic streets, and in the homes made of people.

The noise and people talking is so engaging that you don’t even need to say anything. I remember this one situation, I was asked to write something in the comments section for a school book, but then everyone was reading behind me what I was writing, of course they were kids, but in the echo of my very own words that they were reading aloud, I lost the flow of thought I wanted to convey. In other situations I felt the same way… In my brother’s living room, a friend and all of us were talking but I was just being washed with the words that were coming out of their minds. I didn’t say anything, I felt as if I was an onlooker. I compared all this to the deafening silence we all feel in our very living rooms in US. I’m not saying the life in US is not good, but the standards are high, the freedom in your cocoon is highly regarded that it isolates the core of our living. The non-sensical movies, the imitating kids, the prestige hungry wannabe people, I came across all of them in India. But what stuck to me most was the love and warmth of a mother, how she chose to perceive a same situation that, she and I, both witnessed at the same time. The love and affection of close friends, the family treasons, a TC’s amazement, the loneliness of a parents with kids abroad, sight of four kids going through rubble playfully with such innocence, the stark difference in highways to Eluru and Kakinada, a chef’s professionalism in River Bay in Rajahmundry, the face of the waiter who served us dinner in Priyadarshini late night, the drive thru OU to get biryani from Bawarchi to home and then not liking it, the comfort of making a quick turn instead of going through another exit, the palatial temple of Iskon in rjy, not to mention the food at Alex Kitchen, I believe bobby’s cousin in now the host, the guy at gujari’s who was dropping hints for us look around the store while he can start his lunch was utterly disappointed that we were done and we need to wrap up and go.

All I can say is this trip made me look at myself in closer, made me grow a bit more in my own skin. I met up with my old school friends at Zaafron, it felt so f*****g darn good, we all were chattering like there was no end. What I loved most was the fursat-ness in the daily life, really, nobody is in a hurry, there isn’t a drive to get things over with, when the 5 minutes of wait turns into 1/2n hour, u’ll never know. Now that I’m back, I cant come out of that fursat ness, I’ve slowed it down, but I know life here will catch up with me and shake it off of me. But until then I’ll enjoy it.

As I was standing at the immigration line in New York, I started to miss home terribly. The abundance of facilities in order, the plush wall to wall carpet in the airport, the non-chaotic lines, the orderliness seemed very odd to me. I felt like I was in different age and time. I dint seem to like it. While vamsi drove I slept in the car, as I reached home and removed shoes the very touch of my home’s carpet on my feet felt…I don’t know I cant describe it. With much deluge, I headed to work the next day, I felt like I was in another surreal world. The sight and touch of my cube, the same place I spend most of my time, felt pointless. All this felt like a world I can’t touch but somehow living through in small bits. I’ve always carried a thought that all our life we slowly discover a bit of who we are, we’ll never completely know who we are, since situations evolve a new personality in us that we aren’t aware of. This trip was one of them for me, nothing extraordinary happened, but many ordinaries came together.

A what face ?

While being plopped on the couch and watching TV, I bumped into Reba on Lifetime.

Alright, alright, we know women like to watch Lifetime but so do men.

Anyway, there is this Barbara Jean character who in a gripping situation unveils that her husband has put on a lying face in-front of his ex-wife and other people.

For obvious reasons this bloke is disappointed that, his current wife gave away how his lying face looks like to the rest of the crowd. Now that he cant use that face anymore, he’s stumped. That right there got me thinking…darn ! I’m sure we all have faces, of different emotions, a surprising face, a sad face, and a happy one and on and on, but how does your face look like when u r stating something that is not completely true, well I mean when u lie!

Sure…we all lie…say white lies here and there that are completely harmless and inconsequential. Like the time you call in sick to work, just to relax at home and do a plenty of nothings, or the time u tell ur girlfriend / boyfriend/ husband/ wife that they don’t exactly look fat, it’s just the wrong outfit.

Should we wonder how our face looks like in such situations.

Is this a grim reality we face for being adults or can we get by without a lying face. It’s a catch 22.

I couldn’t eat!

Since Vamsi is in Chicago for the past 2 weeks, I was tired of my own hand cooked food and the sight of piled dishes in the sink wasn’t getting me anywhere near the frame of mind to cook. So, I dialed in to my fave or rather ex-fave restaurant, Wave Noodles for delivery of some Shrimp with Basil and hot & sour soup. I specifically told her, missy, I have no cash on me so charge the tip as well on my card.

Half hour later, after my shower and few minutes into channel swapping, the bell rang. I’ve heard or read somewhere that for a single girl, it’s always good to be on the phone with someone when u r answering the door. So, with my phone as a weapon, I opened the door, and the guy gave me the credit card bill to sign, I did and thanked him. Then he looks at the bill and with his typical Chinese accent he continues to say that he drove 6 miles to get here and deliver and I didn’t tip him enough. I was like “what!”, but I asked that girl to charge me and I went on to say that I had no cash what so ever, I had dimes and nickels for all he cares and few quarters in sight. He just nodded, and walked away, I doubt if he understood a thing I said. I was like helloooo! First a feeling of guilt washed me, cursing that I should always keep cash on me, then after few minutes a mysterious rage took over me, how could he just walk away like that, aren’t I the customer here. I had given good tips whenever I go for lunches there. So for the first time I asked them for delivery and the lady forgot to charge the tip on my card and I take the brunt of it. It seemed so unfair, so, I called them again, to tell her to charge it on my card again, well no, she just didn’t get it, get what I was trying to explain and it was well into my dinner time, so I hung up. By this time I lost my appetite to eat too and made a mental note to drop by tomorrow to withdraw cash then go to the restaurant and give that guy his tip.

All this for not making my own dinner! Next time, i should just make Maggie noodles, darn, I was pissed.

To all the Questions

the numbness of the mind drips like red
in the flames of life we find
the soulless faces
the sting of the needles
the dust of the wind
we stand bare searching
hoping the answers will find us

Ripple effects….

An unknown face with his fate haunts me in the most unexpected moments…couple of months ago, a student in Sri Kakulam was "ragged" by his seniors, for sexual favors. He succumbed to their threats and gave in. After that horrific abuse he reported to the cops who realized that those god-forsaken seniors are absconding. Later in the progress of events, this guy with his father went to report this to human rights activist. By the time, they returned home, the mother of the abused boy, was found dead…she committed suicide !

All this was accounted over a period of 2-3 days. This line of events brought a lot of questions to my mind, in such an unimaginable state of affairs of this guy, who’s lost more than he bargained for. This guy had shown sheer braveness to bring attention and possibly fight for justice, instead of suffering in silence.

But the mother chose the easy way out, instead of supporting him through his ordeal, she gave him more to grieve about. It’s established once again how the reputation and societal norms coerce a person to chose the extreme alternatives.

I can’t help but wonder what would this kid be hauling with him for the rest of his life. Would he be blaming himself for years to come for bringing the black and white starkness of life to such tragic reality, would anything be ever normal to him, will he ever be able to cope with the rage he would feel towards his “seniors” or understand his mother’s choice to die, to that matter.

Instead of trying to brush it off as a depressing matter to think about, please take a moment to think of how ‘we’ as a part of the society contribute to the thought process of sexually abused victims and their families.

How we voice our thoughts and imply situations, affect the delicate minds.

Maybe a kind thoughtful word from her spouse, neighbor might have made some difference to her and eventually to this kid too.

WSID

Does it mean anything that twice within a time of 10 days you get a pang of strong feeling that you are not doing what you have always wanted to. Though you don’t know what exactly is it. But the people you are working with, the “mahol”, the pettiness in the rat race and everything just doesn’t seem to click and you are standing there alone in this huge room looking from up above at yourself from a third person’s view and see your thoughts fly, your shadow running away and a meaningless sigh depicts many burning illustrations.

Thick twice before u call

your kid “clever” !

BBC News : Teachers should stop calling bright pupils "clever" for fear they might not be considered "cool" by classmates, a union has been told.

Wow! I don’t have kids yet, but I know at some level of my conscience, it doesn’t seem right. No matter how u r considered by your classmates, roomies, u can never escape from being who you are, and what you turn out to be. If any, we deprive them of the recognizing that uniqueness each child carry within themselves.

The society seems to be evolving into this police of sorts in our schools, streets and living rooms. I’m all for the kids who need protection from the harm brought on by adults and rightfully so we should protect them.

But these idiosyncrasies turned regulations, to say “hey beware of being nice to your kid, you might just jeopardize his/her social life”. C’mon, I think we need these superficial crises to fret over our superficial problems at that tender age, so that when we grow up into complicated adults, we’ll know how we beg to differ.

What are you ?

An interesting way of looking at things...just a story i came across

A young woman went to her mother and told her about her life and how things were so hard for her. She did not know how she was going to make it and wanted to give up. She was tired of fighting and struggling.

It seemed as one problem was solved, a new one arose. Her mother took her to the kitchen. She filled three pots with water and placed each on a high fire soon the pots came to boil. In the first she placed carrots, in the second she placed eggs, and in the last she placed ground coffee beans.

She let them sit and boil; without saying a word.
In about twenty minutes she turned off the burners. She fished the carrots out and placed them in a bowl. She pulled the eggs out and placed them in a bowl. Then she ladled the coffee out and placed it in a bowl.

Turning to her daughter, she asked, "Tell me what you see."

"Carrots, eggs, and coffee," she replied.

Her mother brought her closer and asked her to feel the carrots. She did and noted that they were soft. The mother then asked the daughter to take an egg and break it. After pulling off the shell, she observed the hard boiled egg.

Finally, the mother asked the daughter to sip the coffee. The daughter smiled as she tasted its rich aroma
The daughter then asked, "What does it mean, mother?"
Her mother explained that each of these objects had faced the same adversity: boiling water.

Each reacted differently. The carrot went in strong, hard, and unrelenting. However, after being subjected to the
Boiling water, it softened and became weak. The egg had been fragile. Its thin outer shell had protected its liquid interior, but after sitting through the boiling water, its inside became hardened. The ground coffee beans were
unique, however. After they were in the boiling water, they had changed the water.

"Which are you?" she asked her daughter.

"When adversity knocks on your door, how do you respond?

Are you a carrot, an egg or a coffee bean?

Think of this: Which am I?

Am I the carrot that seems strong, but with pain and adversity do I wilt and become soft and lose my strength?

Am I the egg that starts with a malleable heart, but changes with the heat? Did I have a fluid spirit, but after a death, a breakup, a financial hardship or some other trial, have I become hardened and stiff? Does my shell look the same, but on the inside am I bitter and tough with a stiff spirit and hardened heart?

Or am I like the coffee bean? The bean actually changes the hot water, the very circumstance that brings the pain. When the water gets hot, it releases the fragrance and flavor.

Are you a carrot, an egg or a coffee bean?

May you have enough happiness to make you sweet, enough trials to make you strong, enough sorrow to keep you human and enough hope to make you happy.

May we all be COFFEE.

- Maya Angelou
Pics courtesy of Google images

Cast Away

So last night, I had set auto tune for TNT's airing of "Cast Away"...I finished all my chores, dimmed the lights, had the volume set at right level and embarked with Tom Hanks on his journey of survival. I think I should preface all this by saying that the feeling of claustrophobia engulfs me when i think of being under water, but to seek peace with that fear I watch movies like Jaws, The perfect Storm, Cast Away and such. For the first time I was watching this movie in full. I know "where was I, huh". At the fear of sounding generic, I want to say that I loved the movie.

It slaps onto you the inherent fear we all subconsciously carry. We don't avoid oceans, planes and all that stuff for the benefit of avoiding an accident, but we all have come to accept it in the threads of our daily lives. But when we do face such tribulations, the daily demons we so ferociously face seem trivial and pointless. There are few scenes when there is absolute silence, the serenity of the time and the rattle of the moments leading up to there...is quite something. The blend of love, irony, nature and mostly the sanity tom finds in the most deafening moments on the island makes you wonder...what would you do ? who would be your "Wilson".