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.