Roots

"Early in the spring of 1750, in the village of Juffure, four days upriver from the coast of Gambia, West Africa, a man child was born to Omoro and Binta Kinte....."

I read "Roots" a six hundred page book in three days. Non stop. It has been ages since I read a book with so much involvement. Every line struck me hard. I read the last few pages, put the book down and looked around my tiny room. My book shelf stacked with Biochemistry/other favourite fiction, on the other side, a large board of family pictures and a closet of endless clothes. I took education for granted. I knew where I came from. I took lineage and holding on to my culture for granted. I recommend this book to all, just to feel what I felt. Privileged.

Appa's retirement

This is a dippi from what I wrote for appa when he retired. I am also posting this to thank Arvind so much for the feedback and edits. Appa was proud :)

“intha nutpam porkum puriyavillai…”…
“moongil kaatril thedidum pozhuthu moongil kadendru”…
” kavithai variyin suvai…artham puriyum varai”
Everyone understands nostalgia and how music can recreate the whole situation including sights and smells. For me some of these songs brings about euphoria; that even falling in love or independence or success could not bring out. Memories of good old days, chilly cold Coimbatore breeze, half open window, TSC1296 grey Fiat carrying a happy family of four. Three hours prior to that I would have been torn away from my group of friends with whom I had been playing hop scotch or lahori until my feet and dress both attained unrecognizable colours. Amma would have battled to turn me into a presentable form after talking to appa on the phone “kozhanthaigala ready a iruka sollu ipadi ingeyavathu poitu varlam” After a terrific dinner and an even better dessert at Kwality Walls, on race course road, Madhu and I would hear the magical words, “Drive anyone?” and we would race through avinashi road or race course listening to ARRahman. On most of his Kuruchi days ,appa would drop us back and head back to work
Appa is retiring this month. In amma’s words, “Ithudan State bank Ithihasam mudinjachu” Madhu and I almost grew up with State Bank of India, like how my mom and dad did. We had, Neyveli branch days, MRL Manali days, GMO Secretariat days, SIDCO Kuruchi days, Inspection days, Zonal office days and Stressed assets management branch days. I have left out a few, maybe Ganapathy ADB and his former branches only because I was not born then or they did not have any memories for me. All the state bank days were excellent. From our family friends, to people who knew how my dad and mom met, some very special people are from the bank. My dad’s best friends, Rajaram uncle, Sam uncle, Padma aunty are all family now.
Amma and I would laugh every time appa picked up the phone when one of his superiors from work called. He would immediately stand to an attention and the number of sirs would increase tenfold. If it was someone he respected more than just as a senior, We would also be asked to remain silent and the TV and Mixie were a strict no for another half hour.
When he yelled at us or got frustrated with us, I would think, poor colleagues of his, I can just imagine what they must be going through. Turns out that it’s not true at all. It seems that his people skills are so good that everyone knows him a tough but sincere person. What I observed of appa was that he was dedicated, sincere and really hardworking.
Not so absorbed that he would neglect his family. Here comes the best part. If I were to mark places that I have visited in India, most of the map would be covered. We went on vacations on every single holiday. Be it bank funded (LFC) or appa funded, we would have a ball. From snow covered himachal, to kanyakumari and Trivandrum, we have covered it all. Wherever we go, Madhu and I have been princesses.

Thinking back, I am not sure if my dad could altogether afford the luxury or the time he gave us. At the end of the day, he has a happy family (knock on wood) and made a great career for himself. But that’s the rosy picture the princess got. Being in the rat race myself, I know my dad had a rocky ride and tough decisions to make. Living without his family in remote corners of India like Kargil and Drass, or Lucknow or Jaipur for five years is definitely not all fun. And when he came home during his “halting time”, the only question his second daughter would ask was “Enaku ena vangindu vantha?” Well he has never once disappointed me.
Again, biking from Annanagar to MRL manali would definitely not have been easy, but he would come back and ask,”Night show anyone?”
These are some of the very few struggles that I have noticed. Or rather noticed only when I look back. He just did not stress us too much with his career or with his disappointments. I have a lot to learn from my dad, but I think the most important lesson to learn from him is how to balance one's career and family. Hats off to thirty-seven years of service and hats off to twenty nine years of marital bliss.

Hmmm

The exhaustive rush from the green-house to lab to the friday morning seminar made me miss my morning coffee. Promptly, my friend brought me a mug to the seminar. The coffee was just perfect. From the temperature to the mix of decaf to Columbian blend, no one could have gotten it so right. Thats when I thought of this.

Another night, three girls bunked together trying to make my friend come out of depression. We watched Sex and the city, grey's anatomy and Private practise over oreo cookies and avacado smoothie till four A.M. Probably not the most unhealthy way of coming out of a relationship. But what the hec, atleast she did not have to take seratonin. We continued the ritual till she could gradually move to "out-door" activities or people.

About recently, an hour of empty, cheesy conversation with my best friend across the seas made me break out my week-long unknown monotony and PMSs.

One of my best memories from college, is taking walks. We used to wait until we loaded our "gel" which would technically take about 45 minutes to "run". We would delve into a little escape into the backyards of our college. The college I did my Post grad in did not have a green campus. But behind the buildings was pretty much wild. I dont think we were allowed to go there. We would sit on a little water tank, and talk. They were the most brilliant conversations I have ever had. We did not talk about people, places or career plans. It would just be thoughts. We would almost reach a schizophrenic state of self-realization with the warm Madras sun on our necks and a bottle of powdery chocolate milk. Looking back I can feel the warmth on my cheecks and twinkle in my eyes that came just from those talks.

Here it is. Raising a toast to all my girl friends who form the thickest whipped cream layer!

diwali!!!

Its 6:00 AM in Madras right now, and the air probably is filled thick with fog and a strong smell of patas is permanently in the air. Without a second's gap there is vedi satham. Its probably the second or third round of crackers, some of the kids' hands are silvered with chemicals. There is definitely "vellai appam" and chutney followed by okkarai awaiting for breakfast and a whole round of patti mandrams and Rajini movies to top it all. My nephew and neice am sure are discussing who burst the first thousand wala and at what time standing below first block, Seetharam apartments, while am googling diwali videos in youtube with a gel waiting in the lab to be run.

I definitely miss diwali at home, though my memories are getting fainter by the year. Its the third year outside home and I have to constantly remind myself of how it used to be. There are distinct memories though. A bunch of us hanging around in third block terrace at six AM after heavy cracker bursting for three hours. There would definitely be one scene putting girl claiming child labour and not bursting patas. Then there would be salwar/frock comparisons, visitng cousins, vellai appam for breakfast and sight aduchufying (the only day probably the men in my apartment used to look presentable), followed by a monotonous afternoon of bijili bursting. The nights were saved for the best new dress and vana vedikkai.

Unsuccessful attempts to make it seem like real diwali in this place. Drawing a maakolam with lamps and making ladu (which is more like boondhi in sugar) makes me look even more stupid. The dot should probably be reminded of the thalai diwali. He has probably spent just four hours sleeping in the last 48hours and is living on a caffeine-iv. Its definitely a better idea not to put undue pressures of nalla-ennai during finals week.

All said and done, its still a lot of fun to have diwali nights way after real diwali is finished, pot luck dinners, light lamps and hear patas over the phone. But the attempts to make this place seem like real diwali will be persistent however stupid it looks.
Happy diwali to all those who have the luxury of India.

Noble?!

Some of the most inspirational men I have met till now are scientists. The prejudice here is only due to the limitation of opportunity to meet a lot of others. Sydney Altman (catalytic RNA- Nobel in chemistry, 1989), Craig Mello (RNAi nobel 2006), Anders Naar, Anindya Dutta, Ashok Srinivasan and Ahmad fakhoury. There is nothing common about them. I did not see the "burning passion" in their eyes or a tremendously dynamic personality in them. What I saw was an "I work for myself" attitude and a bow-down in complete obeisance humility towards science. They were good spokesmen, excellent thinkers and had a down to earth attitude when speaking to 20 something young minds. There were two things that clung on to me that were blog-worthy. One, when a bright young bulb piped to prove his interes in making conversation with anindya asked "how do you define a good student?", without a second thought he replied, "Just do what you love". It was not altogether about the statement. It was more about its timing and the momentum with which it came. "When someone has to tell you, you need to put in more work, you are a lost case." I found a strict teacher, a chronic workaholic and a man ruled by his mind in him.

Second, small talk with Anders Naar lead to a conversation about learning. "What is all this hue and cry about love-to-learn, enjoy everything you do attitude? It just doesnt make sense. How are you going to understand or appreciate this world if you have to learn only what you love?". Maybe crudely put but very true. I did not like calculus, strongly loathed high school probability and could not understand what the hec was bernouli's theorem. I hated mugging the multiplications tables and strongly disliked homework in any shape or form. But I have reached a point where multi-disciplinary is absolutely essential and now appreciate myself for having that knowledge.For even being just a molecular biologist requires atleast once a week of complex math solving. Everything is not fun or cannot be made fun, but sometimes its required to bite the bullet and swallow it. And once the head is set right, it just amazes you how much you can take in so easily and how much you fall in love with learning.

Change....

"How has marriage changed you?" In answer I would retort with a stupid joke like I dont have to steer my hang baggage into the restroom everytime when we travel. But in truth, it has changed me a lot. I feel different. I feel secure and grounded. I feel like there will not be anymore self inflicted roller coaster rides, and even if all the time I dont feel like I am on the top I wouldnt keep noticing how hard it is to be at the bottom.

I dont yearn for approval from anyone, even him. I know I have his. I wake up everyday feeling beautiful, even if he is not around to tell me that. I cook a stash of food and store it away, without the slightest thought of how it is going to taste. It doesnt matter. I still like my taste in clothes, movies and my opinions on the world and now I say it louder. Maybe I was a highly insecure person before marriage and thats why the change. Maybe its too soon to say I am happily married, but I am bursting inside and I cannot keep it anymore.

Amazing Paati (contd)

"Indian coffee!!" Paati would proudly refer to the pazhaya satham kanji and thats enough to send my mind on a road trip from Madras to Shimla, kadayam or Aravankadu. She would describe her routine prior to marriage (which was when she was 13). Her mother made her draw the kolam, clean the house and sit and do math tables. If she outdid all her sisters, her dad would open a small wooden cupboard and give her a square of "english chocolate". In the afternoon her mother would have found pieces of cloth for the sisters to sticth, and only then were they given their mid-morning meal. I was ashamed at my 13 year old self.

This was a "routine", and Paati's life was full of routines. Paati would also recall as to how during her time mother and daughter were pregnant at the same time. Its just another routine mid-wifing and child rearing. While dosas were a luxury, the pregnant women of the house alone got big dosas made out of "nalla-ennai". Then there were stories across the country, on how cold Shimla was that she had to be given a "thee kayam" when she was born and how she managed an entire household in Calcutta with just 30 rupees and she herself being just 18. Incidents that demand atleast significant amount of great grieving, like how they lost the T.Nagar Coats road house, next to the present ugly GRT thanga maligai (am sure its worth several crores now), gave away their Sion house in Mumbai gracefully and how her husband was cheated at his work were told nonchalantly, with an air of practicality. It was her nature to not be emotional over wealth. She just had to feed everyone who was under the shelter, be it her own children, her sisters' children or a distant far-away relative.

The trams that run across Madras, my thatha's routine (whom none of the grandchildren have met), his way of life, the summer trips to Veeravanallur thirunelveli district, her mom's house, along with a minimum of six children (if they had six children, she got a free ride as a guardian) set me fascinated. Chithra pournami at the Sashtha kovil which was set in the interior of a thoppu and considered dangerous to travel on your own and Thenkasi Sivarathri celebrations sounded truly exotic. During the nine-day navarathri all the "kanya pongal" would kummi around a center kolam at the agraharam, made me want to live in Chenkottai or Sundarapandipuram (Since she described veeravanallur as dry). She would re-call marriages, teach the origin of customs, basics of theetu-pathu, her idea of astrology etc. She can beat an IIM-MBA without even a high school degree. The way she would describe food at her house, aah thats a whole story altogether. It would make my mouth water even if I had had a full three course meal just a few minutes earlier. There were aluminium tins always filled with murukku, thatai and cheedai and children back from school would run straight to it. And then the thinagai maavu urundai. I dont think I liked the palm sugar stuff half as much as I did when she described it.
This is how I wasted my study holidays during college listening to innumberable stories rendered with the most amazing details and right emotions, post the 3:00P.M coffee break.

I dont think she lived an opulent life in the least. But I think its her practicality, acceptance and more than that cheerfulness that gave it the wealth. She would describe money management, losing her husband (whom she completely doted on), getting her girls married with the bare minimum that she had, without sentiments or emotion. Thats how life is. What was important was to not lose your spirit or your "routine", in other words, the discipline.

Well, its three hours since I read "The toss of a lemon" and I thoroughly enjoyed it. Being brought up by my maternal grandmom, a strict widow herself and the house run like any other Iyer household, I could totally relate to it. The blog is a result of gushing memories of paati.

Amazing paati

There is a purple coloured blanket at home with a pink border on it. It is made out of a madisaar pudavai that I wanted to hold onto forever. It still has a faint smell of paati, its a mixture of vibuthi and her cooking and for a second I can almost feel her skin.

When she used to sit down with her afternoon coffee, she would always be telling me stories of herself, the family etc. That was probably my moral science book.Being a fifth standard pass, but having learnt immensely from the world, she would appropriately use sophisticated english in her stories. From her stories, I had great respect for just two kinds of people in this world. One, people who "pulled their life back together". Its not a big deal if you have your life planned out, you had great parenting and you did amazing well in school from grade one. But it is if you had gotten into drugs, cheated on your wife, ran away from home, shrunken responsibilities, but at the end of the day managed to pull your life back together, and do great. The other, are "self-made" people. She would raise her thumb up, bring her lower lip up and say that about someone. My heart would swell up with pride for that person. This category of people probably attracted me the most and I probably married one too.

Well there are probably a hundred and one things paati had taught me, this is not to list all that. Its just to re-iterate that I think only two things matters in life. One, to be non-judgemental, and the other to work hard in continuously shaping yourself. I am glad I atleast know these things.

Back to wilderness??

When Thomson woods donated 750 acres of land to the Illinois state, his only condition was that the land should be maintained as it was. And as an honour to him the SIU campus till date is WILD. You would have huge deers, small fox and snakes as your passers by, and racoons to eat your garbage at night. Signs like "Fawning season, Deers can attack" and e-mails that warn you of a viper on the prowl are not uncommon. The first week I loved the campus having immigrated from a concrete sticky jungle. Then there were mood swings. I just hated seeing crawling objects all over, pest controling like I lived in the Amazon jungle and having to walk around a beautiful lake with the fear of attacking animals. When an inland tornado hit Carbondale it cleared out most trees but still left another 100 standing making it difficult to walk, and worse, we had to live without power for four whole days. Life stops in the United states without power. No gas stations, which means no groceries, no internet, no charging phones, no connection with the external world, no work, nothing. But plenty of sunshine, outdoor cooking,(most of our stoves work on electricity), late night on the lawn conversations, cricket with strange guys, eating at an "Agadhigal Mugam" and playing cards by candle light followed. It was a lot of fun, like camping from home itself. We were almost sighing when power was restored. I just loved the campus then.

Immediately, the whole India-wedding escapade followed. At one point of time, I had no clue what was happening and was not sure if I was the victim. Trust me, its a difficult job being a bride and trying to look good. The only things I really did the last one month was hop from Sundari to nalli to RMKV (in Madras summer), matching bangles with sarees and cleaning my feet obssessively for the "metti" episode. Its actually slow poisoning. At first your forced into it. At first you find amma and the chithi/periama gang continuously telling you that you have to shop intelligently, its your D-day, explaining why you cannot have a simple temple wedding, how yours is the only second daughter's wedding in the family etc. But before you know it you are deep into it with no one to blame. You are practically practicing your bridal smile, a bridal walk trying not to look like kudurai, deciding on "pinnal styles", deciding intricacies like whether an arching eye-brow shape or a normal one looks good with the bridal get-up and apadiye all cold feet is thrown right out of the window. I now understand how Indians have little or no cold feet. They have 101 ceremonies and 10001 people to worry about which leaves no room for anything. But its fun all the way. But yeah coming to the point, after all that, am glad to be back to Amazon jungle, even if I am missing the important other. I am glad to be back to MacDo meals, around the lake walks, biking across the campus, grocery shopping, Ipod walks, sitting around, walking around the lab like a zombie, PCR setting/gel loadings escapades, girls' gossip at the office, coffee at four at StuC, late night-nonsensical journal reading that will never ever help me in my research, eternally eating chana dhal and frozen veggies for dinner, uncombed hair and mukka pants, free food and PHD comics. Am back to the grind and loving it. And the cherry on the top is that its summer and its beautiful outside. The campus I described above is as wild and beautiful as ever.

Charanya

The wheels hit Madras harder than any other airport. Its probably the roads, or probably my mind. Happy faces, anxious minds, impatient to deplane and see their loved ones were all over. "Dei Machan did you check out the new fly over while we were landing?". "Semma hot la...and its almost midnight" all the jabber I usually enjoyed seemed to go over my head. I had spent the last twenty hours living through the flashes from my brain.

A quick flash. I could hear Charan singing while I struggled to pull the blanket all over my head in sweltering Madras heat to block it out so that I could sleep an extra few minutes before rushing to college. A pang of guilt and a small tear welled up. Another flash, of us fighting over a red frock donated by the benevolent U.S makkal. Did i let her keep it or steal it? I was 12 year old. Guilt again. And what about the time when "WE" decided that she was too young to be included in periyaval discussion? Did she finally sneak in or did we neglect her? Did I smirk at her being a temple goer? Did I tell her at any point that I actually loved the way she sang Andavan anbe and Koovi azhaithal, and that it is still ringing in my head?

And there were flashes from better times. Definitely much better. Saravana apartments terrace, humid Madras evenings, a mild breeze genrously donated by Mr.Marina, faded old nighties, one definitely extra large, and chatter all the way. Thats where all the girly talk took place. Everything under the sun that included and not included the male species of human kind were discussed. First crush, forgotten school friends, finally found love and lost relationships were scrutinized ,validated and enjoyed. Then there was the kitchen. The only kitchen that I knew of which had a fan, and the only one which could accomodate 5 women's constant chatter. Many a Stella Maris time weekend were transformed to ultimate fun with just a cup of coffee in chithi's kitchen accompanied by amazing conversations and constant laughter.

We shared stories of first days at college, stories of bunking class, forgotten homework, free-a vidu for 12th std and cliche engg makkal attitude, celebrated my U.S visa, her first job and most of all shared the bond of family and that of a great friend. But I simply did not know it.I took it for granted. I did not remember being particularly enthralled by her presence. But she had formed an integral part of me, defining the family without my knowledge. Why did I not take a moment to enjoy her as a person, or appreciate her presence? Did she know at any point how much she meant to all of us? That she was the voice of the family? Be it a temple visit or a wedding, or a fun road trip, be it a madrasa suthi paka poren or a mythrem bajatha, she captured it all. Not only with her singing but her so called "masti" air that she carried around her too.

Reality strikes now, really hard. All the unrecorded voice of hers, all the laughter, fun, the attitude taht lingered around her, the confidence she carried on her shoulders are now just a memory and quite a painful one. I hope there is a time when these memories are more refreshing than painful. I really hope. As of now, there is only a feeling of nothingness. In her own words, life is a little less sweeter than it was two months back.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0xDuDUPf6G8

Darnest of things!

"Well, you know thats why I want to get an arm job done!!" a voice boomed from the hallway when my boss and I were trying to have a quiet introspection on a "matter". I pretended not to hear it but my boss couldnt hold his laughter in. The other "jobs" are liveable compared to this one. The perfection towards size is getting out of hand. There has to be a story that led my sane friend into taking this decision.

Her six year old niece, a darling beyond compare, while happily rocking on her grandma's comfortably corpulent thigh was playing happily with her fleshy arm slightly loosened by age. When she got to the upper arm, just above her elbow the girl turned all doe eyed and put on her extra cute voice and inquired; just out of curiosity..."Gramma, why does this place look like a cow's neck?". Age and grief caught on my friend who was witnessing this horror leading her to think "I inherited everything bad from my mom and had absolutely no control over them. Now I have a chance atleast try to protect myself against bratty grandchildren".

Kids do say the darnest of things, dont they? One of the hybrid kids that I know, born to a girl of a remote Iyer origin and an Irish guy is unbelievably cute. Thats where Darwin's distance theory of farther the species are from each other, better the offsprings makes sense. He has dark hair from his mom, blue eyes from his dad and an olive skin from his paternal grampa. This angel on earth looks like he cannot harm a fly. Just that he is extremely honest. My friend wanting to live up to the Indian culture and tradition sincerely did the navarathri routine and took him along wherever she went. At the end of the season, when they were visitng the second last golu, Nick piped.."Mommy, why do you have to sing that particular song every time before we eat the beans??". Now thats a sincere attempt to learn the culture. Except- wrongly timed.

Here is the last one. My dad has an ugly habit of singing right into a sleeping being's ear. Its usually a screeching "Murugunai kumbitu murai ita peruku" or a "kadaithanil thoongiyavan vetri ezhanthan" that could sap all the fun out of a saturday morning 9:00 AM sleep. U.S doesnt do anything to change those habits nor do the presence of grandchildren. Unknowingly, a similar one came out while the all-enduring and smiling adhav was sleeping to glory nestled in appa's lap. My dad immediately bit his tongue for fear of waking him up and being tormented by his cries. Having taken over his father's genes, Adhav rolled over and put his hands to his ears, blocked out the ugly surrounding and continued his beauty sleep. He is a four month old by the way.

So if you want to hear the honest opinion on questions like, "Do you think I look fat?" or "Do you think this song suits my voice?" ask the smallest one in the family. I would say, "Go for the arm job!"

Colourless cribbing

A guy with a small jewish hat on his head, found the three of us at around the corner and decided to join us for coffee, unmindful of what we thought about it. Spotting a scarved moslem, a brown skinned Indian and an.. uhmmm lets say Europen together was his luck. I know people like this. In exactly two seconds, he is going to start quoting phrases from the bible, thinking we are women from a tribal land and have a shaky belief system and desparately need his help to deepen our faith. "So is the elephant God a symbol of strength?" would be his next question. I cannot take it, calling my dear thonthi pillayar "elephant god". I am not religious, but I can see myself becoming over protective of anything that is Indian and see myself feeling threatened by these "converters". I immediately surface all emotion that comes to missing home and a train of thoughts follow.

I dont really care about people who try to convert or people who think I am a barbarian because I have one God for every day of the year. I am frustrated that I for myself have just realised that India is the most exotic country ever. How can I even expect these people to understand my culture? We are the only ones who could have a different God, different food, different clothes, different languages or dialect every 500 miles and still preserve it, maybe with all the maamis wearing onbothu gajam, or with kolam, mavadu making, mukani padayal for new year, manjal kunkuvam, valayal, kolusu, kolattam, paatu class, pallankuzhi, thayakattai, etc.

After days of interospection I conclude that U.S lacks colour. Thats it. Thats what I miss the most. Its not the people who call us "those barbarians praying to the elephant God", or the noiseless traffic on the roads, or the repeated bland "veggie meal" at MacDo that I hate. It is the colourlessness. Mayil kazhuthu coulour, kili pachai, MS blue, Kathiri poo colour, vengaya colour, arakku, karu neelam and even govinda manjal that I miss. Its the Early morning beats of nadhaswaram and mirundangam followed by a theru, which has a few million colours that I miss. Kabaleeshwarar kovil gopuram, scaling up with every definable colour covering every spot, that I miss. The fresh green water sprinkled banana leaf sharing a stark contrast with the bright orange kasi halwa to the white pachadi and reddish manga thokku that I miss. This is what makes me miss India even though I have 3/4ths of my immediate family sitting right here. This is what makes me nostalgic when I listen to "Yeh jo desh hai", with full knowledge that I did not, or may not do anything for my country and that may not be the top reason for me to head back home.

Selfish me

I am angry at the world today. I am infuriating with anger on people who take credit for what they are and feel good about themselves. When you expect a lot from yourself and push yourself to do better, it is good. But just because you did well, you cannot take the pleasure to feel superior to people who did not have the same opportunities as you had. Your efforts count very little when compared to the chance you are given to do it. Be it study, work or just live a life without anxiety and fear or have three meals to eat, you possess them, while millions of others dont. We can now happily sit down with a glass of wine or a cup of coffee and discuss why we have to pay so much tax or how anyone can expect us to give our hard-earned money to someone else. Why can there not be an ideal world where everyone is eating, vacationing and building houses only upto what is needed for them and then allow the rest of the world to use whatever is remaining? It is unachievable, right?

Sadly I have resented to the fact that equality can never be achieved. My dad often says "If you arent a communist at your 20s something you do not have a heart and if you are still a communist at your 40s something you do not have a mind". It is true. Even my 20s something friends do not think equality is a good idea. But I cannot applaud a doctor's son who turned out a doctor as well and consider him close to God while look down on the lorry driver's daughter who was in the slum, abused and failed in the eyes of a successful career. Give equal opportunities and then feel intellectually and socially superior. Even genetically, brain wise, just because you can think or act better you are not a better person.

How selfish is it to grab ten people's opportunity and give it to one person on a silver platter and force it down his throat and he finally gloats about being obese. It is a crass example. But inequality strikes to such an extent that no one wants to think or do anything about it. Ego is good only if you are pushing yourself to do better in terms of expecting more from you. It shouldnt make you distinguished just because there is a mass of people who are not as "good" as you. Well I donot know what I am trying to say on the whole. I guess I am plain upset at the fact that research, medicine, economy, literature, sports are growing day by day while there is a whole world of people wondering how to feed themselves. It is so unfair. Maybe there is nothing that can be done about it and we have to live with it. I am not going to stop researching, eating, over eating, indulging, reading, vacationing and work for these people, am I? So I dont even have the right to talk.

Springing to glory

"Its time to bring my barbecue grill out" Scott commented on the weather, when I was out of the lab for a brief moment. The janitor was cleaning the mess we had created in the name of research. That was when I actually looked around. It was a low 70s with a mild breeze, and at seven in the evening, the sky had just turned a pale orange. There was enough light to last for another hour. The side walk trees were alternating with purple and white leaving a fragrance of wild flowers in the air. There is a lake just opposite, yes there really is and people who know me would know how much of happiness a body of water brings to me. The lake was bringing to life the verses "beside the lake, beneath the trees, fluttering and dancing in the breeze." There were daffodils all over. Thats when I heard the "All done" from the janitor. I had to get back to my experiment. Or...

I decided that this day is never going to be back and so put my ipod on, requested a labmate to watch over my useless experiment and headed to the lake. I reached my favourite spot at the deck and stood there for a thoughtless moment. My ipod shuffled to play the saxaphone bit from duet "naan padum sandham" and I watched a father in his mid 50s trying to get his teen daughters to dance with him as his wife played the guitar. This was worth the freezing winter, ditched lab experiment and for the moment forgotten biochemistry. I was glad I got out.

Maya and Adhav

I forced myself to get out of my laziness and write this post because I do not want to forget how it felt to see Maya and Adhav for the first time out of the incubator. I realized the complete meaning of a "bundle of joy", only that there were two. It was a marvel just to wake up in the morning and stare at them for hours together, to feel their soft breathing on your face as they slept on your shoulder, or to see them smile in their sleep. Its amazing how two 7 pound odd beings could hold so much of happiness.

The best noise of all is to hear Maya "sigh" when she accomplishes something big, like when she just finished a meal or adjusted herself to sleep. Amma commented saying, "Etho iva than karthalernthu ela velayum mudicha mathiri".

Whom do they look like?? hmm...In my opinion Adhav epitomizes Subbu and Maya, me and my sister and all the other women in my clan. Maya needs perfectly serene environment to be herself,is extremely reactive and needs her place in the swing. Adhav responds to everything at his own pace and settles himself accordingly. Its ecstatic to just watch them. Well, not everything is green, they are a full time and after hours including nights and weekend job for four people. They are a handful.

All that said, I did not imagine I would love these two so much!! I just cannot wait to hold them again.

speculating..!!!???

The whole world, along with me celebrated the 200th anniversary of Charles Darwin. He had a kick-ass work life. Well, whats better than vacationing in a lonely island and calling that your "laboratory". Have you seen ours??? Ok the scientist in me continues further, so here we go!

Born at a time when studies could not be done at the molecular level, Darwin and spencer "rightly" correlated origin of species to the origin of the universe. It gave rise to some agnosticism, triggered by the conflicting concept of God sending the 13 spp. Also, it gave a lot of scope for science fiction for years to come.

They were born to be skeptical, to question everything giving rise to 'science' as such. To think of what was achieved centuries agao, I speculate if we as a group of scientists are even reaching anywhere. Nothing really has changed over the last twenty years. With advance in technology like having a whole genome sequenced in less than five minutes, we havent achieved breaking success with either cancer or AIDS. We have only added to the list with mutant varities of bird flu and salmonella.

In my opinion, scientists today compared to 100 years back, are more concerned about short term success and material recognition. (like publishing a paper). Added to the fact that we have made education comprehensive and rigid that there is no scope for thinking beyond. Like for example, what if our categorization of animals and birds were all wrong? Anything that lays an egg outside itself is a bird, whereas anything that breast feeds is a mammal? We have learnt and accumulated so much knowledge, that we are not sure when to give our radically different ideas a chance. Should we go unlearn everything to give ourselves a broader perspective?

no6 kalyani

13 Bagirthiammal street, is the house amma grew up in. It is in the heart of Madras, accessible to all places. Many early afternoon coffee sessions have turned extremely interesting listening to paati's stories about the house, and the innumerable people who lived in it at different times. The mamaram, thengai maram, magizham poo maram, malli poo pandhal are all too familar due to my imaginary head. I myself, a total T.Nagar and Madras fan, have passed by that house many a times (now an ugly apartment stands there) imagining how early Madras life would have been with the tram and all that. I kept wondering how so much emotion could be attached to a house. Appa, being a banker we had to shift several houses and one could not afford that kind of emotional attachment towards a place. I am happy I still have association with most of the houses/places/apartment complexes that hold great memories, except with No6 kalyani I guess.
The saidapet srinagar colony house is set in a "posh" locality and the only individual house, unlike the rest of the family living in tiny boxes. Periappa moved into the house when I (along with the extremely intelligent ganesh and sriram) just finished 12th std and was entering college. It perhaps does'nt hold any better memories than coimbatore, pallavaram or madurai, places where me and my cousins have had the best of times. But it is a place where I recognized I share an unbreakable bond with my so called extended family. They are really not that extended. It is a place where we lost both our grandparents, where madhu and vijay got married (not literally) and where we have had many a basketball games, motai madi singing and literature fights. The front room must have a sighed a relief, no more high pitched and off note shruthied people singing "sri meenatchi thaye". I must have been one of the very few creating the off note, for most of my family can sing. Well, it created a sense of belonging, so who cares about off-notes.
"The periavar" decided to move out and I guess we are going to have vague people take over that house. I think I will also be saying stories of its broad front yard, its sit out from where you could watch the kids (us) playing basketball with a coffee at hand, the motai madi which has been tortured the most by vimal trying out every musical instrument possible (listening to him practising them is usually a very difficult task, nevertheless we have been encouraging cousins. He would finally come up with a pehala nasha in his guitar, or play a song with mouth organ and say "guess which one it is?". Even the most raaga gnyanamed people fail at this)and its coffee+ aratai sessions, athai's shopping episodes, futile carrom board coaching for me and its huge kitchen which was always buzzling with activity (That is the best part). So i guess I have some interesting stories for my grand children, too!

PS: I think day by day, am getting too nostalgic in my blog! Will try to work on writing about the present a little more.

why am I the poop checker.!

My colleague and I were helping a grad student extract DNA from her samples. All sophisticated equipments around, gloved hands, lab coated and hair tucked behind. We even look like scientists.
We overheard her boss discussing how it was extremely difficult to get PCR products out of ..faeces. Saara whispered "OMG., is it really poop?" I did not even want to know. "Which animal is it?" she inquired. "Goeldi's" came the dignified reply. "Its a monkey". Saara said ironing out my forehead creases. "Its a south Amercian monkey, found in Peru. It is an endangered species, so we can't afford blood or skin samples. He is very pretty you know, and we are trying to find out the environmental concern that is leading to its extinction. Isnt it exciting?"
But its still poop right? Now is the only time I am proud that I work with fungal rots on plants.
Out of context here, but I just connected it to Sid saying "Why am I the poop checker?". I love ice age.

Beginnings...

There is a certain flavour old advertisements can bring back.Especially if you are an Indian. The old humara bajaj, complan ,aarthi(KG theatre ad), rasna and diary milk used to be favourite, after which came most of the paint ads. The bajaj ad especially, when I saw it back on youtube brought back a wiff of the early nineties. Rangoli, sunday morning watched with toothbrush in hand followed by jungle book with a liter of oil on my head. Its amazing how a piece of music can bring back a whole atmosphere which is intertwined in a neuronal mess... From famco shopping, woodlands/geethanjali dinners(geethanjali was especially my favourite with the rabbits to watch), to annapoorna,"cheran plaza",race course drives, pazhamudir shopping to gangothri, copper point, bessie beach, (few additions like bike and barrels, leather bar, anokhi and amethyst), to lake shore drive, giordanos,strip road and what not! Its been brilliant (concentrating on the oor suthal part).
The best part about this flashback is recognizing the time frame, a beginning. Every span of time was in its own way is fresh and unique. While I was enjoying this sensation in my head, I hit upon a video that landmarked a beginning.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1STKiZnB_Ps&feature=PlayList&p=D17F34D9EA15A11D&playnext=1&index=8

I can still remember how a local cassette shop owner sold us a plastic boxed audio cassette (cassettes till then mostly came in thin glass boxes) of "roja" way before the movie was released saying a young music director has done a brilliant job. We were hoping we did not get tricked. It turned out to be the most used, abused thing at home.

Its good to reel bact to look at beginnings, they themselves are the biggest inspiration.

Wedding bells!!!!

I have a time course experiment running with an all day-all night long, free time to do whatever I want. So here goes an account of recent observations. dont sleep on me, pls.

Situation 1:
Girl seems extremely handicapped and her husband acts as if he could be next advisor to Obama. Girl- thrilled that her husband owns a Japanese car (psst...she doesnt know the loan balance yet), says "alrighty then" when he hangs up the phone and orders "baked bean burrito- NO MEAT" with style and grace. He suddenly starts having all three meals a day (HAHAHA cynical laugh). Girl thinks Guy is charming intelligent and interesting. He should be, his profile says he treks, loves long distant drives, camping, bikes, loves surfing (does he actually surf or just likes watching it???!!!) and most of all cooks. Now which Indian male does that?
Yes, I am being extremely cynical of marriages across oceans happening over the phone. My only problem is that still most Indian women dont have one with this set up. If someone can tell me, dont worry they are great, or if these girls could tell me "We were totally prepared for this" I wouldnt buy it. Well, all relationships survive past hurdles or are really made of them, but the typified arranged marriaged USPS shipped Indian women mostly seem to have extravagant ideas, not of United states per say, but of the men they are marrying. Their parents are no exception.

ok now, Situation2:
"Well, 25% of the smart women are either married or engaged, another 25% dont want to date me or I dont want to date (cos they are too smart for me to handle or are Carrie Bradshaw types), the other 25%, am hoping exist". Does this sound cliche? Have you heard it from too many of your guy friends who just use euphemism to say I am a loser? ;-). Well, I dont mean that, I respect this category more than the above. I have started to hear a lot of this from the Indian women folk too. A part of me is extremely happy, yes we are getting there. But I get annoyed when i hear a comment like "Have you seen the way he puts his hand on his hips while waiting, its too gay and I dont think I can continue this relationship." Well yeah literally! This is the crowd who are always in search of Mr/Ms.Right (ppl,dont say look who is talking), have commitment problems, love being alone, cannot share ward robes or cannot stand the other's furniture taste. Well being alone, I can see how people get there. So my empathies with them!

Situation3: (my favourite)
Guy meets girl in school/college/is neighbour/is cousin's friend/friend's cousin/29C/sarang ..., they get along really well, somewhere down the line (or in the beginning itself) a spark happens, they think they are made for each other, survive hardships, fight for their relationship at home, survive long distances and then get married. O.k, I can see eye brows raised. Why I envy this relationship so much is because they know no one other than each other, have grown to adjust with everything, from the beginning have over-looked petite flaws, most of all realise what you are in for (atleast these days) and still stick on to it. Do these relationships even exist these days?

situation 4:

Ahem.. this is the dangerous part. Broken, beaten, "grown, matured" individuals, meet, have great admiration for one another, explore relationship hurdles, have similar life styles, goals and are ambitious. I would like to quote janani (http://justlovelife.blogspot.com/2008/11/finding-and-keeping-life-partner.html) here and are in love with each other...well what more could you ask for? and by the way why is it the dangerous part?

Way too many people think they know it all when they start a marriage..so that idea is more dangerous than the unknown.

So thats to the skeptical me. It is all the fault of United states of A. I used to believe in frog prince, sleeping beauty and beuty and the beast! really!

pongalo pongal!!

“Hey manju happy pongal”...a voiced boomed from the phone. The voice and all its excitement was so out of place for the genomics conference I was at, at San Diego. “Any plans? Pongal panna poriya?”
“Chance-e ila...enga intha hotel roomla ukarnthundu…”

It did not even strike me that it was pongal. I went back into the quiet conference room, to a bunch of people who would never understand an Indian festival even if explained twice. Atleast if I was at “home” meaning Carbondale, I would have tried to recreate the situation drawing a kolam (all geared up like I am going skiing in the alps) and made a sakara pongal, sans jaggery , elakkai and mundiri (well I guess I should rename it now) and finally end up having a pot luck dinner on a weekend some four days after pongal. Phew! There is no point trying to recreate the festive spirit here. Just doesn’t happen.
Sitting in the conference room, I decided to just recreate it in my mind. With me getting up at seven with utmost difficulty , to early morning madras heat, to a house smelling a mixture of karpooram and elakkai, to some random carnatic music played in the background(speaking of which even if I colud never understand its intricacies, I have grown to love the sound of carnatic music and associate comfort feeling with it after being in the U.S), to coffee being refused at the moment due of heavy cooking happening, maya selling karpoora valli for an exorbitant price just outside the house, and appa trying to put all his artistic skills together in getting the vengalapanai ready. Nothing is going to substitute THAT, is it? That would be followed by the poojai and sun tv “pongal sirapu nigalchigal” watching. The food followed by the nap is probably the best for me. Then a lazy round of visiting follows, to catch up on my cousins’ lives who would mostly be eating morning’s left over vadai soaked in rasam or thair. I would just happily join them. Such is a holiday in the recent times (it used be even better a few years before, in Coimbatore) for me .
Well instead of complaining/feeling bad for myself I just decided to do what I could at that moment. What could be better than 70F and bright sunshine for someone who is stuck in mid-west all of winter? So I just laid back, skipped the conference and enjoyed the Californian sunshine at torry point beach. It was almost as good as pongal!

Apoptosizing life!!!

Most people are convinced that mortality is the best way of life. Give room for the next generation, dont deplete resources etc., But in one of the many conversations that I had with myself, I was wondering if it really is. It sparked off from the time I read Lord of the Rings. Well I am not much of a fan of fantasy books, but just to make this point, am using it.
The four races described are interesting in terms of their mortality/immortality. The elves, dwarfs, hobbits and us. The shorter the life span the more the population. There are very few dwarfs and even fewer elves. So since we have such a short life span, are we trying to live life in "complete"? In terms of which rapidly reproducing, depleting resources and exploiting the environment? The dwarfs and elves have a more "living with nature" approach. I think while trying to accomplish, we are just growing more and more selfish. We want everything for everyone of us. We dont care if the Olive ridley becomes extinct or who tha Caspian tiger or the dodo really was. Well, not to get very emotional but just reflecting that through the "rat race" we have been reproducing worse than them and taking over everyone's space.
Since it started with the context of life span versus quality of life, I am here day dreaming on how good it would be if we had 20 years to finish a college degree... how better am I going to listen in class?

An ode to PLB524

It was the most amazing course anyone could have taken. The course had only four students registered and we were from 5 different nationalities and from 4 different religion (instructor included). Almost every class extended for another half hour over a table of cookies and coffee discussing religion, philosophy and politics. But the best discussions till date have been about culture and food :-). Now you guys know why I enjoyed the class so much. The instructor had a unique teaching methodology involving formal debates, review writing and movie watching. The best two debates have been about intelligence and the other about death. I wish I had somehow video taped them. I wonder if I would ever come across such diverse thinking again anytime.
If any of you are wondering what this course was, it was gene regulatory networks, offered by a plant pathologist..and believe me, we would never go off subject. Geisler somehow made these amazing connections and kept us grounded on the subject. Well, what an inspiration. Not to study but to teach...

The year 2008

The year 2008 has been the toughest and most memorable year in my life. So as a toast to it, I have started blogging. Here is to the worst and best year of my life