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.