New Year Travels!

Sometimes...when a year has brought so many changes to a life, when the new year represents so many opportunities and asks so many questions, when the past is no longer fully representative of the future, a change is required in every aspect of life.

This, here is no longer who I am..Do step in on my new blog

http://binaryfootprints.wordpress.com/

I would love to renew our acquaintance..

Warm regards,
ME

I Support the FREE BURMA Campaign

A little less conversation....

Elvis in my mind and burning my speakers. This song has been playing every half hour on my computer. Obsession, new craze, new "my tune", I don't know..all I know is it asks for a "Little less Conversation and a little more action please..

The new heartthrob is in town...

There is a new heartthrob in town and the girls are swooning and so are some guys.....It is quite funny the kind of image that these people wish to project and what is more funny, two of the news stories today had to do with bare chested men, men who are not in typical situations dreamt about and swooned and sighed about....

This and This is what, ladies and gentlemen are occupying news channels and radio waves and sending shock waves across countries. Could it be a new war maybe, a Bourne Vs Bond kind of situation...Who has the best bod. Will the esteemed guv'nor from California join or even our Cowboy from Washington. Heehaw..

Wouldn't it be awesome if all three got together and had a, I don't know Camp somewhere meet. I can imagine the headlines..Ooh the possibilities. Will be a breakthrough in friendly relations...Enjoy folks

Dancing in my Shoes!

I was going through some old photos that I got from India and spotted one which brought some real fun memories of my school days. I used to dance back then and was there in every competition on stage that required me to dance, don a costume, talk or even just stand..I loved the spotlight. We were actually a group of 4 girls all my classmates during my Kindergarten to 5th standard. One of the girls mother used to teach us how to groove. She was an amazing person who unfortunately passed away a few years back. I used to love being at her place and going through songs and figuring out steps. So there we are me, VR, SV, and NM dancing on stage and enjoying every tiny bit at least I did.

Anyway this was one of my favourite songs and one of the best dance performances I remember vividly. I must have been in 3rd or 4th at that time. A very popular song and I glad I found it. ENJOY!!

A Long Journey Home..

3 months of life away can make you crave for the simplest things that you leave behind...The leaves outside my window twirling and dancing in the wind, the gentle curves of my pillow, the smell of my own cooking!!! and the pleasure of sitting here in my chair, looking at the green grass by the window and wondering if that petrified rabbit or the wily squirrel will get to the nut first. I was away for this really long holiday in India and one month of summer study in Cambridge, UK. and now that I am back and have felt up the above mentioned, my heart yearns to go back and my feet aches to start globe trotting again.

The trip back home coincided (made to coincide!)with my grandpa's 80th b'day, my parents 25th anniversary, my dad's 50th b'day and my youngest brother's Upanayanam. There is this smile which starts the minute you board the plane, this inexpressible joy at being back home just in time for a big function where I have a feast for 2 weeks continuously and get to behave like a kid again with my 10 cousins, feel the fall and rise of my father's chest and lie on my mother's lap in the big wooden wing at home. There is impishness in fluffing my grandpa's beard every time I pass by and in hugging my granny just after she finishes her sacred bath and heads to pooja and in talking nineteen to the dozen when my mother is cooking. Every event deserves a post in itself, and I don't want to rush through after these are some of the best memories I hold and I want to savour each drop of it. I will at least to try in some way to be unselfish and try express what life is like every time I go back and every time I make a return journey to relive my childhood.

I have been unfaithful and haven't blogged. I apologize. I was in so much of a rush to leave and in my rush to squeeze every second of a life I cherish, I all but forgot how it was to talk to a computer, share my love with only one person, and live life miles away from where my heart yearns to go every now and then. But I am back, to narrate tales of my long holiday, my summer in Cambridge, and the rest of my life. Thanks to all for their concern, I am happy that I have found a family I have never met, but seem to know a lot of here...

TV turnoff!!

We are officially turning off the TV...at least for this week. This is where "Mission Conversation" was launched.

I am not a TV addict. But there are somethings I watch. The BBC news is like my additional caffeine dose in the morning along with my cuppa. Then the few odd pleasures every now and then. But this week, nothing is acceptable. Of course with the profusion of entertainment in the form of radio and Internet, the NO TV idea is workable, but for additional measure I added a clause "No entertainment of any sort be it on TV or Internet". News I need to, for work (Rolls Eyes!) but nothing else shall stand. I mostly listen to the news programs on the Radio and NPR is like manna from Broadcasting heaven, and so that is permitted.

I don't think it should be difficult. I mean with the overdose of entertainment news from around the world this past week, I am so ready to not switch on the TV or Internet for any sort of stupid, mindless fluff. They were like the dust bunnies, the more you wipe away, the more they come..Eeyuck!! Anyway that is where things stand now. I managed to do without my morning news, just made my coffee stronger. Actually thought out a few things and feeling nice and empty and ready to take on the Big Bad world of Politics.

So any of you want to give it a try?? I promise it will be fun.

OH BTW!! I updated my Political footprints In case people are interested in my burgeoning political life.

Slide!!

A long time since I penned a Friday word. But here I am once again

Whoosh!! I could feel the air on my face
And a little heat on the seat of my pants
My brother chasing could barely keep pace
Whoosh!! Thud and down we went in a mess of arms and legs

Whoosh!! I felt like I was flying
The idea was to let the hands go
And let the wind carry you, squealing
Whoosh! Boy did I squeal my heart out

It was my brother who taught the fun
of coming down at high speed
Timing it to my grandma coming by, then run
Not stopping to listen to her mutter under her breath

She would do her prayers every day
and she had to take a bath every time we fell on her
It was perhaps more fun sliding into her everyday
than just sliding down for no reason at all

We learnt soon to slide with my grandpa
Slowing as he walked with his aching knee
And duck headed stick. I slid down once with pa
seeing if he had those hormones in him after all

I learnt to slid backwards and sideways, I learnt to slide
with my fee not touching ground
I learnt to even slide up from down, I would slide
all the way up and then all the way down

I would slide real fast when I was happy
An slowly contemplating each step I slid when sad
I would pause midway and sit when I felt crappy
I would go up and down and up and down when I was mad

The brown wood bore the marks of a dozen adults and a few more kids
It was all shiny from contact with bottoms of all kinds
It made kids silly and giggle, It made adults for a few minutes silly kids
It was my friend through thick and shine and it made my life complete

The banister at my grandpa's home, brown, old and shiny is where I lived
At times when I climb up some stately stairs in public
The wood tingles under my fingers, childhood beckons, I want to be the kid
Who came down the stairs with the wind in her hair and a twinkle in her eye

A Ray of Light.

Break in News

Finally someone has enough sense left to open their mouth or rather unscrew the cap of their pen. Dear God whereever he is heard my prayers. I have never been so irritated and so sad at the same time. I understand the curiosity, but this is insanity on a massive scale. A girl attempting suicide, a man bringing laddoos from kanpur, another naming his whole family after "The Family" another conducting mock weddings, another taking boiling milk bath, and yet some others sculpting and painting and embroidering. It is just a wedding people, just a wedding. Don't act like Chicken littles'. Pfft!!!Idiots.

Rude Awakening.

I was hibernating, in the cocoon of my basement. Sitting in the midst of books, papers, stapler, pen and everything else that would portray me as the desperate Grad student attempting to write a paper when in reality all she can think about is how amazing a plate of warm Bhel-puri and cool lemonade with black salt would be. Don't even ask me what the connection is or how I went from sanctions in Darfur to Bhel in Ghatkopar.

So many things have happened between now and then. The season is desperately trying new fads to keep up with the latest in fashion statement - Global Warming. India dropped to ridiculously low standards in cricket, journalism and celebrity fawning. Angelina Jolie has just saved another kid from the throes of poverty to drown him in ridiculous amount of wealth, cameras and everything else.A reporter was kidnapped in Gaza and feared dead for a while. But somewhere, some place things remain constant. People still die, some still live in fear and some in abject poverty. Some in courage, some in love, some in sadness. Some turn their heads for fear of knowing, some wallow in the bliss of ignorance and some others rooted in spot to their fast dying principles.

The rain fell in torrents, flooding the little street by my house, making the tiny stream behind my home to become a gushing brook. There was water everywhere and occasionally the thunder rippled in loud booms across the sky as one MAN sat above watching his handiwork. Who: One supreme being. Why: Unknown In Virginia, in the embrace of the Shenandoah valley it rained too. Blood from the lives lost, tears flowed like streams across the valley silenced by the deafening sounds of a bullet that ripped through the heart of an idyllic valley. Who: Someone mad and misguided and in control of some power. Why: Unknown. On the oil mixed sands of an ancient city, it rained through. Amidst the thundering sounds of misguided men blowing themselves up died 130 odd people. Who: Men seeking power in dying for their faith. Why: Unknown.

Were the 32 lives more important. Why does what we care for have to be orchestrated so much by what we see and hear. The 130 odd people became nothing more than a tally for a cause and destiny unknown. These 32 people will be praised, mourned and the relatives empathized with about their loss. Were their lives in anyway more important or more valued than the woman who went to buy vegetables, or the girl who went for walk. Didn't we create that too with our vivid imaginations, falsifications and a misguided value. Why not give that the same attention. Why not give Darfur where US imposes mindless sanctions be given attention. Why not the suicide of farmers in India because of one sided World bank policies be given attention.

I am saddened by the loss. As a student I don't want tog o in fear everyday to school. I can see how something as horrifying as this can affect people, a campus and a community. I am not complaining about the attention. It requires this attention if anything has to change. The fear is that it might not. Like all these other things, it might become mind numbing and just another spot on a time line of events. It might not bring a change anywhere. I don't want to think that way, but then sometimes I don't have a justification for thinking otherwise.

Guilty Pleasures!!

I can be at some instances a little addicted to the Tube (Not youtube silly!!) I mean I watch about 4-5 shows that come on the TV regularly. Unfortunately for me, they cancelled one of the best shows out there. I guess it is good in some ways. I am in Grad school. But these sitcoms and dramas are what keeps me sane at times. I mean you can watch BBC and read news only so much. These are some my regulars:

Monday Night Two and a half men:
It is not rib tickling fun, but it is funny enough to be a comedy. It does get a little adult at times though. I mean some things there make me cringe and redden, but I enjoy watching it to lighten up an otherwise dreary Monday. It is about these two brothers, one a twice divorced father of one (basically the loser) and the other the playboy. So it about these two men and the son who is the half man. It is about the craziness that is their life.

Wednesday Night Friday Night Lights:
If there was a reason to watch one hour dramas, this is it. One of the most under appreciated drama of this season, it just holds you by your collar and never lets go. It is a take off one the Movie. It is about a small Texas town football team the Dillon Panthers and their lives. it is more about their lives than football, but boy is it scintillating. The actors, the story lines, the camera action, lights everything is just perfect to make it the best show I watch. It is definitely must watch. It makes you think, feel, cry and stand up and cheer every time the boys do well. It makes you heart warm and makes you see how so many lives can revolve around one elongated soccer ball. It is about Jason street the QB who becomes a quadriplegic in a freak accident at one game, it is about the shy sophomore who takes care of his grandma who is pushed to lead his team, it is about the friendship between street and star player riggins that is tested, it is about how smash and his big talk and ego and how he deals with racism, it is about how the coach deals with the pressure and still manages to bring his passion to the field with the help of his wife a guidance counselor. Just watch it, you will know.

Thursday Ugly Betty:
Like there is a need to explain this show. It has achieved critical acclaim. The actress who plays Betty makes us look beyond her braces, her glasses and everything else and makes us look for the goodness within each of us.

So there it is a fell 2 and half hour worth of drama, comedy, romance and good TV time. Makes me enjoy life a little bit more.

Friday Word: Dance

She looked at the giant mirror near her bed
She twirled and looked again. Her back, her front
She brushed her hair again not that it mattered
But she did want to look her best.

She looked at the shimmery frock she had
It was all fluffed up shiny and pretty
Her friend thought it looked rad
She knew it looked prettier than that

She wore her silvery shoes with a little star
She took a deep breath and sang a little song.
She was travelling and going real far
To do a little dance and perhaps do some more

Her father kissed her forehead and looked all proud
He smoothed her hair and gave her his love
Go on, little dancers spread some joy to the crowd
He opened the gates and saw them laugh and then fly

She leaped and twirled around. She did a gentle somersault
and flew upside down. Her friends laughed and joked
They executed a triple jump with nary a fault
They held hands with her and danced into town

The wind was slow and silent. He loved seeing them come
Sometimes he blew a little, just to see them dance around
Sometimes he'd lead them to a cottage, sometimes to the slum
They danced all the way, tapping their little feet and nodding their little heads

I stepped out to enjoy the fun, the little snow girl fell
just on the tip of my nose, she made me smile and made me laugh
I did a little step on the crunchy snow, I couldn't tell
what made me dance, but I did and I danced all day

I made people around me dance, people I touched danced too
The snow flake shed her fluffy dress and went her way
She took a stopover on my nose and then she flew
She danced away into the spring and fall and then home she flew

She sits there all year waiting all day and all night
To dress in her shimmery frock and
wear her starlit shoes and paint the town white
I wait in my room to see her come and dance my way into town.

Bonkers about Bong!!

It was one of those "HUH!!! ooh!! Wait let me go back and check....wow!! that's weird!" moments. Things have added up over the years and I have just realized, I have a thing for all things 'bengalish' (Is that a word?!?). How all of a sudden. I was listening to "Feluda" on BBC world service. The voice for feluda was given by Rahul bose and I was reminiscing about how much the voice suited the feluda in my mind and how much I liked both of them and in my wierd world things started linking and I sat up and realized I do have a thing for all things Bengali. I am not one myself, in fact I am from a place as far from Bengal as it could be and I don't even speak the language. I speak a language from the south and I have visited the place 2-3 times. There are places I have visited more but not found my rhythm with them. Visiting Calcutta was like getting comfortable with this old, worn out chair in which I remember sitting once, and am still happy and warm inside after all these years. So here is a roster of the people, places, food and things I love about the poetic place.

Ganguly - GOD. No that's not an exclamation, that is just how I feel about him :-) I have been obsessed with him since I was about 15. From talking to him over the phone to letters, he has been one solid favourite. Never mind what Chappell thinks or what other people think. For me he was the best cricketer ever and he has proved that over and over again.

Bengali - the language. When I was a kid and visited my cousin there for the first time, bengali sounded like hindi with a rosgulla in your mouth. But there is something melodious about the language.

Feluda - My aunt introduced me to the detective. Written by Satyajit ray, he was India's Sherlock. I have read most of his books and they never fail to impress me. Rahul Bose was excellent when it came to depicting him on the radio.

The Book shops of Calcutta - During my vacation there, one the favourite things to do with my cousin was to comb the place for books, preferably old and having the smell of pages read, turned and loved. From AC market to old book shops in rickety wooden shops on the street, the place was overflowing with them.

Lake Garden - Early morning walks with cousins, uncle and aunt. Rowers practising, the intense humidity and stickiness after just 5 mins. counting the number of people whispering sweet nothings to each other, the breathtaking beauty of the lake early morning.

The food - My memories of the place are tinged with the sweet aroma of rosgulla floating like little white clouds in the mud pot. The orange sticky Jalebi, the ridiculous joy that I got from eating Mishti doi. There used to a sweet shop near my cousins place. We used to go there morning about 7.00 and get these piping hot, fresh and absolutely tasty treats fro breakfast. It was the holidays and we had nothing else to do in life. So in the heat of the morning, with the ceiling fan droning we used to sit around the pot on the floor and laugh out loud afor no reason and stuff ourselves in the goodness.

I also remember the evening brisk walks to the puchka character. He used to hand us plates made from leaves. There used to be one scrawny assistant as dirty as the other fellow. But the puchkas were oh God heaven. He used to be around for only half and hour and the rush was bad on weekends, but the waits were worth their wait in puchka, I don't remember the names of the places but there used to be one famous shop selling rasmalai and sandesh which were real awesome and one fellow opposite Jadavpur university selling rolls and manchurian. I guess the dirtier they are the better the taste of the food.

The Public library - Just the vastness of the place and its history is enough to make me ridiculously happy every time I hear about it.

the slow moving trams, the rickshaw wallas, the ladies with their huge red bindi on their forehead. They look pretty and ravishing no matter what. Kishore Kumar, rani mukerjee, tagore, Rahul Bose, Konkona sen, Tea in little matkis, the rain, The life sapping heat and the incredible ways to cool off, and last but not least the way time seems to slow down there. People always seem to have time to put their head out and say hello or how everything seems full of life. That is true of any place in India. Perhaps things are not what they were, perhaps things have changed so much that these things are just memories and dear diary moments. Maybe the Pucka walla has faded along with the rolls fellow giving way to sanitised tasteless food and people live their lives over computers and cell phones. For me there is an old world feel to the place I knew from my childhood that remains unchanged, and brings back some of the best days of my life.

High Tea.

Would you care for a cup 'o' tea?
She said. Trying her best to sound
As royal and as English as she could
Would you like some tea?

She tilted her little pink pot
and poured some tea in one little cup
She made sure she didn't slosh and spill
She had made it and made it hot

She offered her royal guests some sandwiches
She thought they might fancy the little bites
She had put cream cheese and strawberry jelly on it
And topped it with a tiny cherry she thought looked rich.

Thank you, I made the tea myself
My mum taught me to brew them right
My dad taught me to choose the best, smiling she said
once again I did make them myself

She talked about the gardens and the royal pets
She talked at length about the changing weather
She admired the pretty sweater they wore
And the delicate hats with little nets

And soon it was time to bid adieu
It was such an honor ma'm she said
I hope you can stop once again for tea
She smiled and did a graceful bow

She got up, and cleaned the tiny pot of tea
She wiped the table and put everything away
She grabbed her dolls with flowing gown and netted hats
She put them away till 'morrow's high tea.

The Big 50

Whoo...50 posts. This is the one thing that I have stuck to for a while, and boy am I glad I did. It is a nice small achievement I guess. Something I never thought I could do and yet I did. It is kind of nice to discover things about oneself as time goes and realise there is more to us than what is perceived.

It is difficult for me to stick through with things. It is painful in fact for me to continue down a certain road for a long time. It is good in certain ways, but makes me feel real miserable in other ways. I always feel a tickle in my mind if I have been on a task for a while. It makes me want to put it down and run, run as fast as I can. it is perhaps the need to achieve everything that I possible can within my lifetime and yet the moment I run, I look back to see shattered half done visages lying behind. I have a double bonus in the fact that I don't often turn back and regret the things left half done. I do turn back, but it is more to see what was done and what is left to be done than to regret what was not. This half baking tendencies of mine do have negative consequences. I am invariably never around to see what good things could have come. I derive my life from the restless soul that I am. I see the things I can, I dreams the dreams at night and imagine the possibilities because of the fleet footed mind of mine. But there are times when I wish I could sit still within myself. I am incredibly patient, in the physical world. I can sit for hours without disturbances, but in the world within me, I run in quest of a world unknown, to seek treasures buried in the deep recesses of the world I imagine, to hide, to seek and to derive pleasure in the numerous non-constants in life.

There are times when I want to control the impulse to flee, when I want to silence the sounds and yet hear just what is happening now, here. I want to stick to things and take them to their destined ends, to be accountable for what I do and colour the whole picture and stick inside the lines. This, here is one attempt to be in the present and yet with 50 posts, there is a stir within me, I am unable to sit still, my hands go all across the keyboard and my thought trip and fall over themselves. I just have to learn to channel them elsewhere and keep leaving my footprints here.

Musthafa, Musthafa!!

Anyone in college after this movie (forgot the name) was released will remember this song. http://www.musicindiaonline.com/p/x/EUCm_saTVd.As1NMvHdW/

It was almost like an anthem to people in their last years in school, college, wherever. I remember the song too for different reasons. It used to be a lullaby for my little brother. There is enough age difference between me and the little twamp. I have another middle b(r)other. And the two of us were old enough that we could put the tweeniest one to sleep every night. The house we lived in had this big circular hall and the ritual was to carry the little pig, not on the shoulder but lying on the arms and rock him to sleep as we walked around the hall round and round and had to sing Musthafa. It is weird thinking of it now. I have no idea why he got fixated to that song, but he did. We used to scream ourselves hoarse and sing it again and again and again, and I used to pass him off to the middle pig and take a breather. It had to be that song. He used to wiggle, squirm, cry and holler if anything else came out. It was fun though. I would wait for that hour all day and would relish taking that sleepy, satisfied, burping little piglet in my hand, see his little dwimpled smile and his happy sigh as he settled into a world of Musthafa's. I still wonder if we scarred him psychologically in anyway with our voices. I wasn't the best of singers and since my brother's voice was breaking he used to sing in multiple voices. I liked letting him sing the chorus. He could give voice to everyone in the chorus line, in one go.

I was listening to the song while driving home. The road twisted and turned and the song played on. Missed home a lot. The piglet has grown and it feels like I have missed a whole lot of growing up. I miss him being small, being able to smell Johnson's powder, miss sneaking to eat lactogen, miss watching him cry so that I could pick him up and make his world awright again.. But I am enjoying these years too, in a different way. I talk to him about Enid Blyton, Famous Five and Secret Seven, about Dinosaraus and how the girl sitting next to him in class wouldn't stop talking. Some things haven't changed though. His eyes glaze over and he yawns when he listens to Musthafa and I start walking in circles.

If night were a woman

Mona's word for the day "Hair"

If night were a woman, she would appear to be
Like the woman who sat in front of me,
Her face I have never seen, for who can but see
Beyond the raven tresses that ache to break and flow free

They sometimes are swept up in a bun high, giving me
a glance of her shoulders white and silky
I can see why those strands would be so happy
adorning her pretty head and watching me sigh and heave.

Then sometimes they are let loose and free
Like waves at night that up in the sky I see
They float, they laugh with their naughtiness they tease me
To watch them caress her cheek, feel her breath..Oh the agony.

If night were a woman, the sky her tresses,t hen let me be
The flowers that might adorn her head, like the sky bright and starry
So I can be by side, smell her loveliness see her smile so sweet
In little pleasures like these my life be full and my heart happy will be.

Another Life to Live!!

http://smallstepbigjourney.blogspot.com/

Colours of my Life

Mona here gives a Friday word every well...Friday. http://yawpmona.blogspot.com/ I just thought it would be a good oppurtunity to dust those cobwebs, oil the wheels and get my right side of brain cranking again. So here goes. Friday word colour for the first friday in February.

I stepped in wearing colours of green and orange,
Not quite aware of how life would change
It was dawn, the sky shimmered in gentle hues
of gold, white, purple and blues

The place was a riot of colours,
People talking in shades of yellow and red. Flowers
from the wings of a peacock adorning my head
I could barely hear myself or what was being said.

They adorned me in colours of the rain drenched sand,
Silver anklets on my feet, rust and golden bangles on my hand.
Don't raise your head, walk slow they said. I ignored and sought
a pair of brown eyes and a gentle touch that love to me had brought.

I saw white, I saw black, purple, orange, blue, green, yellow
colours from every part of a rainbow
And yet with one golden thread, they faded behind
His eyes were on mine and the colours of his face in my mind.

I left home on a sunny, blue day. The plane was stark and white
The farewell dark and silver as I waved til they went out of sight
I landed on acold winter's day. The air was cold and life seemed to be in shades of grey

The years have only been few,but life as coloured as black and blue
I woke up today, to the gentle and shimmering snow pristine and new
I felt some pink on my cheeks when he reached out for a kiss from his wife
I hugged myself and watched the sky light up in the colours of my life

Running thoughts!!

You know you have been going to the gym too often when:

You are desperately searching for your gym card three months after you have bought your first exercise machine.

You carry a gym bag with bottle and towel down to the basement

You dress up to go exercise in the basement.

You keep looking to your right or left to see how fast the nest person is running at.

You hear a real upbeat song and all you can think of is running on a treadmill for that song.

You put your cell on silent as soon as you start to exercise.

You sit in the car in the morning and realise you have no where to go for another one hour.

You miss listening to some senseless Morning show on TV.

You miss being able to show the person next to you, that you were able to run faster for an extra 5 mins.

You miss saying I am going to the gym and leave life behind for and hour or so.