Vandana joined classes two days after I did. Standing at one corner of the 4-feet deep pool, I smile seeing Aravind bring her along. Pink flowers on her swimsuit, pink goggles, pink shower cap, pink wristwatch strapped on to her little hand. I always like pink on a girl, but this blast of pink makes me smile again.
Aravind picks her up and dips her into the pool. "Close your mouth. Close your mouth!" That's his I'm-going-to-dip-you-into-the-pool line. Vandana resurfaces gasping for breath. "I got water in my nose!" she whines a little. She runs up the pool steps and stands on the shore. "Enough for today sir!" She whines again. "No problem... no problem Vandana!" Aravind assures her.
Yesterday, ten days from when she first joined, Vandana is bursting with love for water. Aravind holds her high above the water at the 6-feet edge of the pool and throws her in. "Swim Vandana, swim!" he shouts from the edge. Vandana is off like a bullet. Five seconds later she's covered the breadth of the pool. "Let me jump again sir!" she screams, her eyes twinkling with excitement.
For me, who still needs every muscle working to death to swim three-quarters the length of the pool, 3-year old Vandana is my superhero.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Sunday, July 20, 2008
A Moment's Silence
(Some of these thoughts have been borrowed)
"Rads! Guess who's calling?"
For a few seconds he hears nothing on the other end. "O my God! Roy?" Rads was almost screaming "I don't even remember when I talked to you last, it's been so long! When did you get back from Singapore?"
"Back home on a short break now. Thought I'd give you a call... remember how inseparable we used to be?"
"Mm." Rads is thoughtful "That was a long time ago."
"I guess. So what have you been up to? Weren't you trying for that job in Singapore? You should absolutely come there. We can have so much fun."
"Yea... I'm not too sure though... getting kind of cozily comfortable in Mumbai. You got something for me?" Rads laughs weakly. Suddenly the conversation feels a little heavy. She rests her forhead in the palm of her hand.
"Is something wrong Rads? You sound a little tired"
What makes your closest friends fade out with time? Why do they always say a long-distance relationship is so difficult to survive? Is it that love fades out with time? Or is it that people change with time and you feel uncomfortable with this change? Probably the two of you haven't changed at all. Maybe some of us find it easier to "move on", find closer friends and learn to relate to them better. While for some others, those closest to us are those relationships we made three years ago. Is it that in all the closeness we share, we don't understand this about each other?
"I'm all right Roy. Can we catch up over lunch someday?"
Rads's lips broaden in a faint smile. Sometimes in failing to understand others, you understand yourself so much better.
"Rads! Guess who's calling?"
For a few seconds he hears nothing on the other end. "O my God! Roy?" Rads was almost screaming "I don't even remember when I talked to you last, it's been so long! When did you get back from Singapore?"
"Back home on a short break now. Thought I'd give you a call... remember how inseparable we used to be?"
"Mm." Rads is thoughtful "That was a long time ago."
"I guess. So what have you been up to? Weren't you trying for that job in Singapore? You should absolutely come there. We can have so much fun."
"Yea... I'm not too sure though... getting kind of cozily comfortable in Mumbai. You got something for me?" Rads laughs weakly. Suddenly the conversation feels a little heavy. She rests her forhead in the palm of her hand.
"Is something wrong Rads? You sound a little tired"
What makes your closest friends fade out with time? Why do they always say a long-distance relationship is so difficult to survive? Is it that love fades out with time? Or is it that people change with time and you feel uncomfortable with this change? Probably the two of you haven't changed at all. Maybe some of us find it easier to "move on", find closer friends and learn to relate to them better. While for some others, those closest to us are those relationships we made three years ago. Is it that in all the closeness we share, we don't understand this about each other?
"I'm all right Roy. Can we catch up over lunch someday?"
Rads's lips broaden in a faint smile. Sometimes in failing to understand others, you understand yourself so much better.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
An Evening in Nuayyim
On a hot summer evening, Ady and I were tidying up our container before doing our pre-job checks. Ady gave me a "I'll go call the electrician, mate!" holler before walking up to the rig offices. He got back around ten minutes later with a medium-built man with a moustache and a toolbox in his hand. "Anil" he said, shaking my hand. His face and the name put together were pretty much a giveaway. "Malayali aano?" - Are you a Malayali? - I asked. My guess was right. And then there was a lot of talking - talking before work, talking while dragging our 480 volt cable up to the mud tanks, talking while checking our circuit breakers. Work done, he left, and Ady and I continued what we had got there to do.
About half an hour later, Anil returned. "Joseph Chettan is here. He's from your same place, he said he'd like to meet you." I wasn't in much of a tearing hurry anyway. For the next twenty minutes or so we talked about things I now associate with every Malayali acquaintance - Where in Kerala are you from?, How many siblings do you have?, When did you last visit home?, Do you plan to get married soon?, Politics there are a bitch, eh? - among tons of others.
Joseph is in his early forties, he is the man in charge of bringing food supplies to the rig. He would drive his pickup three hundred kilometers, bringing in fresh vegetables, fruit, milk, meat and poultry for those three-course meals everyday. Anil, in his mid-thirties, is the chief electrician at the rig, had what is to me one of the most dangerous everyday jobs - everything concerning power, high voltage, anything that could go Boom! in your face the next minute. I was the youngest of the three, pretty much a rookie at my work on the rig floor compared to the other two.
In those twenty minutes no one talked to me like I was a kid, and I didn't think much about how old they were either. We were among those million other Mallus in the "Gulf", talking and laughing and glad to have met each other at one of life's crossroads. "I get off next week. Back home for five weeks!" Anil says with a broad smile, "Excited to be seeing my family again. They're the ones who you work so much for, right?"
"They're the ones." Joseph and I agree, and the three of us smile faintly at each other. In the middle of the Nuayyim desert under the moonlit sky, we share a brief moment of brotherhood - separated miles in the work we do but united by that common purpose.
About half an hour later, Anil returned. "Joseph Chettan is here. He's from your same place, he said he'd like to meet you." I wasn't in much of a tearing hurry anyway. For the next twenty minutes or so we talked about things I now associate with every Malayali acquaintance - Where in Kerala are you from?, How many siblings do you have?, When did you last visit home?, Do you plan to get married soon?, Politics there are a bitch, eh? - among tons of others.
Joseph is in his early forties, he is the man in charge of bringing food supplies to the rig. He would drive his pickup three hundred kilometers, bringing in fresh vegetables, fruit, milk, meat and poultry for those three-course meals everyday. Anil, in his mid-thirties, is the chief electrician at the rig, had what is to me one of the most dangerous everyday jobs - everything concerning power, high voltage, anything that could go Boom! in your face the next minute. I was the youngest of the three, pretty much a rookie at my work on the rig floor compared to the other two.
In those twenty minutes no one talked to me like I was a kid, and I didn't think much about how old they were either. We were among those million other Mallus in the "Gulf", talking and laughing and glad to have met each other at one of life's crossroads. "I get off next week. Back home for five weeks!" Anil says with a broad smile, "Excited to be seeing my family again. They're the ones who you work so much for, right?"
"They're the ones." Joseph and I agree, and the three of us smile faintly at each other. In the middle of the Nuayyim desert under the moonlit sky, we share a brief moment of brotherhood - separated miles in the work we do but united by that common purpose.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
This Side of Paradise
Somewhere within each of us, we have the desire to spill our thoughts, share our feelings, speak our mind. Not just to anyone around, because we know most of them don't care. Or even if they do, it just doesn't feel right talking about everything with the guy sitting next to you. In life, we all try to find someone who can relate to and understand our words the same way we feel it, with the same intensity and passion that we first thought them. It could be your sibling, your friend, someone you're in love with. Or who knows, maybe the guy sitting next to you after all.
It's a tough search. One that involves disappointments, expectations, dependence, misunderstandings and miscalculations. The answers to many questions in your life are not that difficult. When you tell someone your problem, you don't expect them to provide a solution. You can usually do that yourself. No, you expect them to share the way you feel. When you cry, you want them to cry with you. When you think, you want them to think with you. You're not trying to set everything right, you're only trying to share everything that's wrong.
It can surprise you where you find that answer. Maybe in a dusty old photo album under your stairs. Maybe in the squeaky red sandals your roomate wore to school. Maybe in a land far far away. Maybe in turning the pages of your favourite book for the hundredth time.
Some friends can never really be described. Simply because everytime you try to, you can't believe how lucky you got.
It's a tough search. One that involves disappointments, expectations, dependence, misunderstandings and miscalculations. The answers to many questions in your life are not that difficult. When you tell someone your problem, you don't expect them to provide a solution. You can usually do that yourself. No, you expect them to share the way you feel. When you cry, you want them to cry with you. When you think, you want them to think with you. You're not trying to set everything right, you're only trying to share everything that's wrong.
It can surprise you where you find that answer. Maybe in a dusty old photo album under your stairs. Maybe in the squeaky red sandals your roomate wore to school. Maybe in a land far far away. Maybe in turning the pages of your favourite book for the hundredth time.
Some friends can never really be described. Simply because everytime you try to, you can't believe how lucky you got.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Getting Back
54 degrees and sand in your ears.
Cracked lips despite a ton of lip balm.
Smelling diesel and drilling mud.
Drinking like a million soft drinks a day.
June wasn't exactly peaceful.
Home has never felt better. * sigh *
Cracked lips despite a ton of lip balm.
Smelling diesel and drilling mud.
Drinking like a million soft drinks a day.
June wasn't exactly peaceful.
Home has never felt better. * sigh *
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Monday, March 03, 2008
Formas de Amor
In taking your parents for granted.
In the tears and smiles that your memories bring.
In the support you've got when you never expected it.
In the understanding you hope for when you're in love.
In the happiness you share just knowing friends.
Forms of love that we understand. Only you and I.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Written in Pink
Loud music played at the open-air cafe. Walking out of the 13-floored building, we took a look around us to take in the essence of the cold Bangalore night. A 40-something man in a T-Shirt that had a caricature of Lennon with "Imagine" scrolled under it, reading a book, sipping coffee. A couple holding hands, sharing a single large cup of cappuccino and a sandwich between them. Bigger groups sitting around tables talking, laughing loudly, some throwing straws around the table.
And then a little girl, four feet tall, hair plaited, nail colour cracked, with a thin and inadequate-looking brown sweater wrapped around her, standing at the gates. In her hands she held a bunch of roses and a faded white plastic cover with something-TEXTILES printed on it. Under the bright streetlight, the weight of the building in front of her made her seem smaller than the little thing she was, the darkness of the evening making it way past the bedtime of any other child her age.
"Bhaiyya, buy a rose please." We looked at each other and then at her. "How much for one?" I asked. She streched out the bunch to me. "Buy them all no bhaiyya, then I can go home also." There was something in her voice that melted our hearts. "OK, how much for all of them?" We smiled at her. Her eyes suddenly lit up, the prospect of an early trip back home and the warmth and joy of sleep suddenly in front of her.
"One, two, three..." we watched her count every rose to the end "... eighteen. One rose is ten rupees... so eighteen... umm... (frantic calculation with her fingers lest us prospective customers lose interest and walk away)... 180 rupees bhaiyya." She thrust them out to us as we handed her the money. "Thank you bhaiyya!" There was no scream of joy in her voice, no childish reaction of having finished the day early, but we sensed the gratitude. In that one impulsive moment I wanted to lift her up and swirl her above the top of my head, and hear her laugh out loud with nothing holding back her five or six years.
I didn't do that, but in the next half an hour of a rickshaw ride back home, with the eighteen pink roses clutched in one of our hands, we both knew it was the perfect end to the best day we'd had in almost two years.
And then a little girl, four feet tall, hair plaited, nail colour cracked, with a thin and inadequate-looking brown sweater wrapped around her, standing at the gates. In her hands she held a bunch of roses and a faded white plastic cover with something-TEXTILES printed on it. Under the bright streetlight, the weight of the building in front of her made her seem smaller than the little thing she was, the darkness of the evening making it way past the bedtime of any other child her age.
"Bhaiyya, buy a rose please." We looked at each other and then at her. "How much for one?" I asked. She streched out the bunch to me. "Buy them all no bhaiyya, then I can go home also." There was something in her voice that melted our hearts. "OK, how much for all of them?" We smiled at her. Her eyes suddenly lit up, the prospect of an early trip back home and the warmth and joy of sleep suddenly in front of her.
"One, two, three..." we watched her count every rose to the end "... eighteen. One rose is ten rupees... so eighteen... umm... (frantic calculation with her fingers lest us prospective customers lose interest and walk away)... 180 rupees bhaiyya." She thrust them out to us as we handed her the money. "Thank you bhaiyya!" There was no scream of joy in her voice, no childish reaction of having finished the day early, but we sensed the gratitude. In that one impulsive moment I wanted to lift her up and swirl her above the top of my head, and hear her laugh out loud with nothing holding back her five or six years.
I didn't do that, but in the next half an hour of a rickshaw ride back home, with the eighteen pink roses clutched in one of our hands, we both knew it was the perfect end to the best day we'd had in almost two years.
Thursday, February 07, 2008
Without You
I'm learning to live without you now
But I miss you sometimes
The more I know, the less I understand
All the things I thought I knew, I'm learning again
I've been tryin' to get down to the heart of the matter
But my will gets weak
And my thoughts seem to scatter
But I think it's about forgiveness
Forgiveness,
Even if, even if there's no reason anymore.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Friday, December 14, 2007
Home Coming
Cuz everything I want - is everything that's here
And when when we're all together - there's nothing to fear
And wherever I wander - the one thing I've learned
It's to here - I will always return
And when when we're all together - there's nothing to fear
And wherever I wander - the one thing I've learned
It's to here - I will always return
Monday, December 10, 2007
The 6th of December
Have you ever woken up one morning and felt nothing can go wrong? Not just on that day... EVER. Felt that everything is beautiful/perfect the way it is, and that was NOT because of the colour of the morning sky or the great day that's ahead of you. Decided that NOTHING would make you unhappy, not as a resolution for the next one week... for EVER. Realized that forever is not really that long a time, and for life as you know it now it's probably too short for you. In that one minute when you've just woken up, in those twenty four thoughts that have changed your every day since then, you finally feel you know yourself more than you ever did before.
Today, I woke up to that morning.
Today, I woke up to that morning.
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
Thin Red Line
There's a thin line between friends and acquaintances. Love and not-so-much love. Happiness and thoughtfulness. Enthusiastic and disinterested. Perfect and never-good-enough. Impressive and hard-to-please. Sensible and weird. Logic and speculation. Understanding and amateur. Smooth and difficult. Forever and doubtful. Talks and acknowledgements.
If better was then and worse is now, you've probably crossed the line called Expectation.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Learning to Say No
Hear the request. Wait for a maximum of four seconds. Look up and say you can't do it.
If you wait any longer you're either going to say Yes or a horribly apologetic version of a No, you'll wish you were a thousand miles away in an empty beer barrel weighted down with an iron ball and sinking to the bottom of the sea when the question was asked.
If you wait any longer you're either going to say Yes or a horribly apologetic version of a No, you'll wish you were a thousand miles away in an empty beer barrel weighted down with an iron ball and sinking to the bottom of the sea when the question was asked.
Friday, November 23, 2007
A Hundred Racecars
"I don't want to play your stupid game!" Kevin had that pout on his lips and his hands on his hips which meant he was not happy at all. The little girl he was staring at was sitting cross-legged on the floor, looking at her dollhouse she had just set up in the middle of their playroom. Her face was red and her hands were shaking a little, and Kevin knew she was about to cry. He hated seeing that.
Still with the pout and his hands on his hips he turned around and stomped down the stairs to the living room. Dad was watching the basketball playoffs. He tried to look sulky, so that Dad would ask him what was wrong. That's how he always got to tell him what he felt.
"What happened Kevin?" This was the time. He had to make sure he got it right the first time. "I hate Susan! I HATE her!" "Why, what did she do this time?" Dad was still focused on the game. "She's always doing things her way, Poppa! She's taking up all my space!"
"But she's just four years old, Kev. She's your little sister... don't you want her to be happy?" Kevin was still sulking. "Mmm yea I guess. But I don't want to drink tea with her stupid dolls... I want to race my car!" Dad turned down the TV volume all the way. "Come here, sit with me."
"You're 7 now, Kev. When I was your age, I didn't have someone younger to take care of..." "Hmph, lucky you!" Kevin pouted his lips even more. Dad laughed softly. "It's wonderful to keep someone happy, Kev. It's the best thing in the world. Just that sometimes you have to understand, that to put her happiness first, you'll have to put yours second. But imagine how you'll feel when you see her happy." Kevin stopped pouting and looked at Dad "Really Poppa?"
"Can I play House with you Susan?" Kevin was standing in front of the dollhouse where Susan was still arranging her little tea cups on the dinner table. Susan didn't look up. Her pretty face was still moist. "But you hate dolls. And you hate House!"
"You can make me like it, Su."
In the bright red glow of the setting sun that filtered through the Plexiglas window, in the little smile that Susan had when she turned her face up and looked at him, Kevin felt happier than racing a hundred cars.
Still with the pout and his hands on his hips he turned around and stomped down the stairs to the living room. Dad was watching the basketball playoffs. He tried to look sulky, so that Dad would ask him what was wrong. That's how he always got to tell him what he felt.
"What happened Kevin?" This was the time. He had to make sure he got it right the first time. "I hate Susan! I HATE her!" "Why, what did she do this time?" Dad was still focused on the game. "She's always doing things her way, Poppa! She's taking up all my space!"
"But she's just four years old, Kev. She's your little sister... don't you want her to be happy?" Kevin was still sulking. "Mmm yea I guess. But I don't want to drink tea with her stupid dolls... I want to race my car!" Dad turned down the TV volume all the way. "Come here, sit with me."
"You're 7 now, Kev. When I was your age, I didn't have someone younger to take care of..." "Hmph, lucky you!" Kevin pouted his lips even more. Dad laughed softly. "It's wonderful to keep someone happy, Kev. It's the best thing in the world. Just that sometimes you have to understand, that to put her happiness first, you'll have to put yours second. But imagine how you'll feel when you see her happy." Kevin stopped pouting and looked at Dad "Really Poppa?"
"Can I play House with you Susan?" Kevin was standing in front of the dollhouse where Susan was still arranging her little tea cups on the dinner table. Susan didn't look up. Her pretty face was still moist. "But you hate dolls. And you hate House!"
"You can make me like it, Su."
In the bright red glow of the setting sun that filtered through the Plexiglas window, in the little smile that Susan had when she turned her face up and looked at him, Kevin felt happier than racing a hundred cars.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
n Weddings and a Crazy Poem
Hold me tender, kiss me true
Know my sweetheart I love you
Tell me with a voice so true,
Tell me that you love me too!
.
When two thousand miles away
This knotty news it comes my way
I find it tough just to believe
How fast the years they come and leave!
.
I wonder how soon it will be
Before this news will regard me
The thought is scary, as of today
I hope that day's far far away!
.
Yet I love the news, I love it now,
That buddies who their love have found
Have chosen right and chosen true
My blessings always are with you!
.
~ Everyone's getting married!
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Happyness
In your pocket money you saved to buy your first bicycle. In the phone call to an old friend after eleven months. In the movie that brings tears to your eyes. In the smell of the earth the first rain brings. In the hug you give your parents when you return home. In your manager's appreciation for a job well done. In your first ever copy of The Secret Seven. In that chicken recipe you got right the first time. In the cricket match that was won on the last ball. In the realization that God's out there somewhere. In your first paycheck you hold in your hand. In a relationship that's lasted over five years. In the unexpected upgrade to business class. In waking up in the morning after that magical dream. In the Calvin strip that made you smile.
Somewhere along the way in the pursuit of happiness, we all get to have our moment.
Somewhere along the way in the pursuit of happiness, we all get to have our moment.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Counting to 10
10. Is it really worth it?
9. Are you thinking only from your point of view?
8. Is this going to help you in any way?
7. Are you being fair to the other person?
6. Is it something you would’ve done and not worried about?
5. Do you think you deserve so much attention?
4. Will things get better or worse with an explanation later?
3. Is there any sense in the way you feel?
2. Do you know that life doesn’t always have to be perfect?
1. Are you even thinking?
8. Is this going to help you in any way?
7. Are you being fair to the other person?
6. Is it something you would’ve done and not worried about?
5. Do you think you deserve so much attention?
4. Will things get better or worse with an explanation later?
3. Is there any sense in the way you feel?
2. Do you know that life doesn’t always have to be perfect?
1. Are you even thinking?
0. Get over it. It’s never worth it.
Wednesday, November 07, 2007
Lines and Circles
Life goes on. I've said that like a million times and I still do. But somewhere I know it's really not true. At least it's not entirely true. Most of the time it's just time that goes on. Life just seems to go on because of the relativity. With life, you're probably still where you were a week ago. Or a month ago. Whatever. And usually it's not one of those It always comes around kind of situations. It's a feeling like when you visit the same place again. Sometimes it's a place you like, sometimes you'd rather not be there. But you're still there is the thing.
Like you're running down an endless road, but the sights around you are those you've seen before. The endlessness just tells you you'll be seeing them again. And then you're just looking for a side lane. Not because you're tired of the road, but because you're tired of the sights.
Like you're running down an endless road, but the sights around you are those you've seen before. The endlessness just tells you you'll be seeing them again. And then you're just looking for a side lane. Not because you're tired of the road, but because you're tired of the sights.
Monday, November 05, 2007
Quote Unquote
Faith in God is like drilling an oilwell. There's nothing to make you see and believe, you just hope you've got your calculations right.
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