The Finish Line

I have never run many races in my life so far, whether rat or otherwise. So I do not have any 'record-breaking' memories to choose from when I think of a finish line. What comes to mind, though, is a 'Rabbit Race' we kids ran, back when we were in grade three, and the world was a rainbow. Apparently, I was on the other (more rainy) side of the mountain...whatever.

Anyway, our teacher, a wonderfully sweet lady with a beautiful singing voice gave us our instructions to run the race (but not in the form of a song). She should have sung it, maybe then everyone would have listened....I digress.

Anyway, during rehearsals (yeah, we used to have dry runs, many, in fact), the teacher said that little containers of mango juice (my favorite kind) would be placed on chairs at the start line and each one of us (dressed as rabbits - rabbit ears made from pink chart paper, socks on our palms for paws, and socks on our feet for, well, rabbit feet..duh), had to drink up all, she said All... the juice as fast as we can, and run (no, hop) to the finish line. Sure, that's easy, right?

Anyway, (Gosh, I sound like Ellen Degeneres), the big day arrived, and we lined up for the race, every little girl with paper ears, sock paws and hopping rabbit feet. Our teacher blew the whistle and everyone hopped to the juice containers, picked them up, started sipping (so far so good), and...dropped the containers and ran....Hey wait! You guys are supposed to Finish the drink, and then run. I was following instructions and the others were finishing the race... where do I come from, anyway, gaaawd! No prizes for guessing what position I finished in at that race. My mom still has a picture of me at that race - lopsided rabbit rabbit ears covering half an eye, drink in hand, and a "What The..." expression on my face!

I look at the winners of that race now, and I wonder if they still have the head start - cool jobs, cooler hairdos, parties, pets, apartments and travel photos - while I try to not to burn breakfast, then force-feed it to my daughter Debbie, and get to work on time.

And then I turn around and look at her toothy grin and the love in her eyes, and I think, well, Mama Rabbit's going to sip this one in, moment by moment, before the next race catches up... We got time to sip the juices, smell the roses .... The finish line can wait.

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This is my entry to the "WriteAway" contest over at Scribbit for the month of January, 2009. Check out the contest and give it a go. She has great prizes every time around!

Help Me...I Am Wonder Woman

India is a land of wonder women – women born with the sound of their mothers whispering into their ears about the nobleness of sacrifice and compromise, of forgetting one’s own comfort and living for one’s husband, children, in-laws relatives, family and society. The Indian woman grows up thinking she exists for the very convenience of those around her. My Indian sisters who disagree with me are either painfully naïve or are part of the uppermost echelons of society that miraculously believe in equality of the sexes. For those on the lower rungs of the ladder, equality is a luxury they can’t afford.

At the lowest rung of this ladder made up of miserable women, are the ‘manual scavengers’, their very classification a testimony to the detestable prejudice of the caste system that they are victims of. Women forced to collect human excreta from dry latrines in order to earn a few rupees which will buy their children food.

Mahatma Gandhi, that revered man who has posthumously progressed to the greatness of a god, called them the ‘harijans’ – people of ‘hari’ or god. What he called them showed what he really thought of them – untouchables. ‘Achooth’ – a word that, perhaps, has its roots in the very upper caste Mahatma’s own prejudices. Yet, I am only speculating.

He, and many others after him, stressed on better brooms, gloves, and baskets for these people, but no one spoke of letting them move into another profession. Nobody spoke about doing away with this horror, and making people responsible for their own mess. That, anyway, is a trait that seems hard to find in most human beings nowadays.

For the wonder woman, as I prefer to call her, all this discussion is just a stale stench of political hot air strategically performed before the elections. She will always have toilets to clean and money to earn.

15 years after the government banned manual scavenging [Employment of Manual Scavengers and Construction of Dry Latrines (Prohibition) Act No. 46, 1993], these wonder women, found mostly in small towns and rural areas, have not seen one paise of the government grants that were supposedly set aside for them. Although Rs. 473.80 crore was spent in the name of rehabilitation between 1992 and 1998, only 13.9% of identified workers were trained and only 29.7% rehabilitated.

When interviewed they have appalling stories to relate – how they do not have water to wash their hands in summer, how the rains are even worse because the waste is wet and gets all over their clothes, how they can barely look at food let alone eat it, how they grow thin and waste away due to lack of food, how their children pick up all kinds of diseases and they cannot afford the medical help. Alcoholism is rampant, understandably, because only hard core booze could render them numb enough to do this task. Their children do not go to school. Their girl children tag along with their mothers and eventually take over when their mothers fall prey to rape, death, or disease.

In recent years, though, some of these people are realizing that they do not have to stay this way. They seek help from organizations like the Navsarjan Trust, Janodayam in Chennai, Sulabh International, Garima Abhiyan of Jan Sahas in Madhya Pradhesh, and the Safai Karamchari Andholan in Andhra Pradhesh. According to the last mentioned organization, there are over 13 lakh safai karamcharis (another word for people who clean human waste) cleaning toilets all over India. Of them, 95% are dalits and 80% women. The Ministry of Social Justice and empowerment, though, officially announced in 2003 that there are ‘only’ 676,009 safai karamcharis in India. The rest simply slipped through the wide gaps between truth and politics.

These wonder women, fight against such hardships and have a lingering hope in their hearts that some day their life would be different. Atleast, some day the future of their children will be secure. They wonder if it will ever happen. Hope lies heavily on the actions of the organizations that have taken up their cause, and us who read this post and feel at least a tinge of guilt or sense of responsibility.

This is a long and sad post, but the life of the wonder woman cannot accommodate frivolity or fun. Her life is too long and sad. Maybe she is asking you and me, “Can you help me”?

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This post is my entry to the July Write Away Contest over at Scribbit. Have a look here: http://scribbit.blogspot.com/2008/07/julys-write-away-contest.html

Facts and Figures taken from:

http://www.empowerpoor.com/programmereport.asp?report=574

http://www.nowpublic.com/world/indian-women-scavengers-hit-catwalk-un

http://www.hinduonnet.com/fline/fl2318/stories/20060922005601000.htm

Onion-theories!

I have a theory. Its like this. The high school wall flower always marries the most popular guy in high school! Even more shocking, that nerd in your class - gap-tooth and thick-as-a-wall glasses - will almost certainly date that pretty blond girl whom you always wanted to ask out but never got the vocal chords to cooperate. ( I hate long sentences!)

I am serious, really. This is not a joke. Go for your high school reunion and you'll understand what I'm talking about.

Look at any successful, handsome (remember, your idea of 'handsome' is not what it used to be in high school), confident businessman/doctor/scientist/professor, with a beautiful, smart wife. One look and you might think that he was what he is, since the day he was born. Ask him, and he will tell you differently.

He would have been too clever for his class, too geeky for his friends (if he had any), too weird in the eyes of his own parents, and described as too weak or sickly in the doctor's file.

One closer look, though, if anyone at all had bothered to indulge, would have shown greatness that could rock a high school kids idea of 'cool'.

He would invariably have possessed the right amount of sense ( a rare thing, indeed), skill, knowledge and street smart-ness to make it as a "successful, handsome. confident man with a beautiful and smart wife".

The wall flower, not to be outshone, would have bloomed into this gelled-hair,-swept back into a severe knot- smart as hell-top of the corporate/organizational ladder-men eating out of her hands-kind of business woman/teacher/stock broker/lawyer/doctor or any professional she chooses.

And she will attract a handsome, moderately smart, totally devoid of streetsmart-ness, ex-most-popular-guy-in-high school-guy who gets pushed around now in the big bad world where 'he ain't no high-school superstar no more' because he needs someone to tell him "he can do it". He will approach her because he mistakenly thinks that she was this beautiful and successful all her life. She will accept him, because she can't believe a handsome guy actually wants to be with her.

Sometimes, just sometimes, a geek-turned-successful professional and a wallflower-turned-successful professional will cross paths, eventually arrive at love (they never fall in love, they never 'fall'), and decide - with minds analyzing the pros and cons of such a decision, and trying to comprehend the unfamiliar emotions welling up - to stay together for a very long time. Such relationships have the potential for greatness, real greatness, maybe like the Curies.

Disclaimer: This is only a theory that has been partially researched using limited knowledge. the sample universe is a motley group of individuals that do not represent the human race in its entirety. The data is skewed and the results are highly debatable. Consequentially, the derivations are fallible and may be deconstructed to nothing, just like onions. People who were popular in high school are not to assume that it is directed at them. The not-so-popular others also need not take offense, although anyone fitting the favorable descriptions in the above post are encouraged to gloat, brag, and generally burst at the seams with pride while secretly laughing at those unfavorably portrayed. (Today is 'be mean day').

Sigh...today has been a day of long sentences.... I have a theory... long sentences usually stem out of suppressed feelings resulting from traumatic events experienced at high school... hmm, must research that.

Pride and Prejudice!

My computer crashed! How timely is that?! I mean, I have to submit my MPhil. thesis at the end of June, and here's my computer showing attitude! AAaaarrrgh! I took four days off, and got my husband to help out with Debbie and the chores while I worked on my thesis. He even did some of the typing work for me. And then, Sunday morning I open a blank file where Chapter 3 used to be.....!

I mean, I saved the file and everything. I think it's about time we got rid of that computer (It's as old as the hills!) My husband just won't do it...I don't know if it has emotional value for him (he just tried to throw out Debbie's favourite book last weekend because it was dogeared! I just don't know what makes these men tick...). Maybe, he has some distant hope in the computer's human-like will power to make one last Herculean effort. I tell you, the whole deal is as nonsensical as that last sentence. Anyway, that's my husband and his computer!

So yesterday we just gave the entire chapter to be typed at a DTP centre, where they will type your stuff out and save it for a minimal amount of money. That works for me, I tell you.

I don't have to deal with the typing work along with all the other stuff that's driving me crazy around here.

Debbie is beginning to stand without support for a few seconds nowadays. Her best yet is 10 seconds! She is really excited about it...but unfortunately has inherited the family trait of letting the excitement get out of control!

She now walks around the entire house (with support) and pulls down anything, and I mean anything she can reach. She pulled down on herself the entire pile of xeroxed secondary source material I had collected for my thesis! She managed to eat a few words too!

One day, I found her dutifully chewing her way through the headphones! That cost a lot of money and she was brunching on it!

Then there's the books, face cream tubes, underwear (my husband left the drawers open again!), stationary, TV remote, clothes (right off the hangers) etc., etc...

She is getting her fourth teeth and it's driving her crazy..She has recently developed a craving for my fingers. I would be sitting there, absorbed in my work, and she would sneak up to me, grab one of my fingers and dig her teeth right in! Gosh, I should probably introduce her to hotdogs, or maybe they have already been introduced and she just misses them!

When she cannot get at my fingers, she goes for my hair! Yep! That's what I said, my hair! She likes to pull really hard at one strand at a time and put me through excruciating pain while she claps her hands in absolute delight! Oh yeah, just for the record, she has learnt to clap her hands to music or when she is happy!

See what I mean? Here I was, narrating my unfortunate accidents and the torture I suffer at the hands of my 10 month old daughter. Yet, I can't resist bragging about her achievements. I guess that's what parents are like. So proud of their children. Makes me think of my own parents and the sacrifices they made for me. Every time I excelled in school or at art or music, they would be so full of pride and would talk about it to relatives and neighbours for so many days! Failure on my part, at the same time, would send them to the depths of disappointment that was worse than the sadness I felt at my failure. Parents practically live for us, and love us with a love so pure that it is only lesser than God's love for us.

I have wonderful parents, let me tell you. At the most unexpected of moments this fact hits me and I feel a rush of gratitude and my eyes fill up with tears. I regret to say that I rarely express this gratitude properly to my parents.

I guess that's why we have Father's Day and Mother's Day, a day on the calendar when the whole world is telling you "this is your day to go and tell you mom or dad that you love them, that they are special and that you are happy and successful and they had a large part to play in forming this success and happiness". Just tell them that you love them.

Happy Father's Day in Advance to all the fathers in the world!

Spicy Marthandam Fish Curry

Fish is almost the staple diet here in Marthandam. This used to be a fishing village at the southern most part of India, belonging to the Kanyakumari district. Remember tsunami?!

It's a booming town now, with the residents emigrating to all parts of the world from Ernakulam to Europe! However, in spite of all the cuisines that one gets to taste, sea food will always remain a delicacy, more because it reminds us of home and our mothers than its absolutely mouth-watering taste.

No lunch at Marthandam is complete without the spicy fish curry! So here's a simple recipe, Marthandam style...

Ingredients

1/2 kg fish (cleaned, washed and cut in to 2-3 inch length pieces)
1/2 cup grated coconut, grind with water till smooth
half an unripe mango, cut lengthwise into moderately thin slivers
one drumstick (the vegetable, please!) cut in to thumb-size pieces
one ripe tomato, cut length wise into thin slivers
1 1/2 tbsp coriander powder
1 1/2 tbsp red chilli powder
1/2 tsp turmeric powder
1/2 tbsp fenugreek powder
1/2 tbsp cumin powder
one small piece of really dark tamarind, dissolved in 2-3 tbsp of water (remove the stuff that doesn't dissolve)
curry leaves and coriander leaves (a handful, chopped)
2-3tbsp coconut oil
salt to taste

Method

Get yourself a well-burnt mud pot that's especially used for cooking fish. If you can't get your hands on one, a wok will do just fine. People from Marthandam will tell you, though, that cooking fish in a mud pot makes it all the more delicious. Don't know what's the science behind that, but I absolutely agree!

Throw in the coconut, the mango pieces, the drumstick pieces, the tomato, and all the powders. Pour in the tamarind water. Add salt and allow to simmer.

When the gravy is beginning to simmer, add water according to the quantity you want (2-3cups water, in this case) and add the fish pieces. Allow it to boil for 20 minutes or so. Make sure you do not cover the pot with a lid.

After 20 minutes, pick up a piece of fish and see if it has taken on the colour of the gravy. If it has, it's good to go. Now sprinkle the curry leaves and the coriander leaves. Check if the salt is sufficient. If not, now would be a good time to add some. If you have added salt, give it 2 more minutes,

Finally, pour the coconut oil in a circular direction all over the gravy, switch off the stove and close the pot with a lid. The coconut oil will hold in all the spices and give the fish curry a divine smell and taste!

This curry tastes great with rice!

The Lake House

I saw the movie The Lake House. Those who do not like a good, soppy, sobby, predictable romance.... stop reading. You might give your self a hemorrhage! Those who love the stuff just described, join the club!

Why am I like this ?I love soppy romances. As soon as I see the font of the Movie Title, the name of the lead characters and listen to the opening music, I can more or less predict that it is going to be a romance movie. Then, fifteen minutes into the movie, I can usually predict what's going to happen, how exactly the hero and the heroine are going to cross paths, and whether they are going to get along. Then, even worse, one hour in to the movie, I can usually predict how it is all going to end. The last one, I bet, is a no-brainer, because the ending of a romantic movie is always happy, right?! If it is sad, then they probably have another name for it in Hollywood! So, why do I actually sit through the whole movie, why don't I just go on to the news? That's totally unpredictable and shocking..or is it?!

Anyway, The Lake House was no different. I mean, it was predictable as ever. Also, I am no fan of Sandra Bullock. However, she stumped me in The Lake House. For starters, she was a doctor; then she drove safe and she spoke slowly. Moreover, she had the habit of writing letters. Even in 2006, who ever wrote letters??

Keanu Reeves I have always loved. He is the strong silent type in all his movies. You can call it a stereotype, but I call it consistency, and I like it.

So here's Keanu Reeves in 2004 and Sandra Bullock in 2006. They supposedly write each other letters and pop it into the mail box at the lake house where they both used to live. And then they finally meet up when Sandra Bullock manages to stop Keanu from meeting with an accident that happened two years ago and then, they finally manage to meet in the present. When the movie begins, actually, Keanu Reeves dies in the first ten minutes, even before the audience gets to know about him properly. I know!

Yet, I watched it. And cried during the end of the movie.

Why..why am I like this?

Why are we such suckers for romances and happy endings?

The same reason why we laugh at comedies and why we watch movies in general. Because it is not happening to us.

This kind of whirlwind romance, this crazy, unpredictable and absolutely swept-off-the-feet romance, flowers and white weddings does not happen to everyone. Yes, we are happy with what we have, but there is always the fantasy, the dream, the wish. And all these people who seem to be normal folks like us are getting it all. So instead of feeling envious about them, we pay money to be part of their lives for a few hours. What if the characters of The Lake House started living in real life. Would they last forever? I mean, she is a doctor who works long hours and has to run away from the hospital every time one of her patients dies. She cannot handle the stress of her work. He has a history of disappearing from a situation, too. And then there was the plan for a law firm he made with his brother that he backed out of. How many plans will he make with the girl and then back out of? Will they even manage to get married?

Who is going to pay for the renovation of the Lake House? Does the guy have a job? He did quit the previous one, right?

See what I mean? This is real life.

Still, when you watch that movie, you decide to forget all that, forget even the issues in your own life and then allow your self to believe the happiness, the bliss that these people offer you. That, in literature, is called 'willing suspension of disbelief'. Like when you allow your self to believe your husband when he says that he will remember your daughter's recital. Like when you allow yourself to believe your friend when he says he will return the loan in a week. Like when you allow your self to believe the claims of that fairness cream.

You know, happiness is what we make of it. Too much thinking about something destroys the thing itself. Try thinking about your ability to read, and you will suddenly forget how to read! Seriously, try it! Think about how you breathe and you will feel your lungs closing up on you!

I am almost done with this post and at the end of this, I just figured out that just as we should never take anything for granted, so also we should never take anything too seriously. Take success, failure, love, achievement, kids, your husband, your sense of humour and yourself as they come, and you will find that things are less complicated.

I think for now, I will look out for the next soppy romance. I'll watch The Wedding Singer...again..for the 100th time! And..cry at the ending...!

Thou Shalt Blog

It is truly despicable that a blogger should ignore her blog for a period of two months and finally come back with a cheeky post about how 'thou shalt blog'! But it's happening and I am the blogger in question.

And suddenly there was work. I think it's a good thing that I am suddenly in demand for a whole batch of technical writing tasks. My work is sought after, and I get paid for it. (am i making it sound like a great adventure, here?! It really isn't. It's just work that I am supposed to get done.)

But that left me with absolutely no quality time with my blog. I just stuck to plain technical writing. I do have a sense of achievement that I have finished one training manual, written an advertisement and a promotional letter to school principals, have written a post for the company blog and an article to be featured in a popular search engine news section. Still, I feel guilty that I forgot my AdLibitum, green layout and all. (The layout has been changed since then - my update on January, 2009). Sitemeter traffic is truly humbling. I plead guilty but acquit me in the name of all things creative and verbose.

Will try to do more justice from now on!

This was a really lame effort, but I'm saying this was atleast an effort, so ...

Next post, and all that...tomorrow.