Tag: Nostalgia

Daivamundu!

~ Soumya ~ 3 Comments

All of a sudden, I say daivamundu. (God is there!) Not that I was an atheist. Not that I was disciple of any form of worship either. Was it like I was almost slipping down the cliff of agnostic thoughts? Well anyway, life has just taken me over and lifted me from the fall, with an amazing ease and splendor. Now, this moment, I am a believer. That someone is definitely watching over all the drama. I don’t pray yet. I don’t attend religious gatherings. I don’t make offerings. But I am a believer. I don’t believe in the give-and-take policy with God. God is supposed to be infinitely more supreme. When even I have the heart to help a total stranger held in trouble, wouldn’t God have the heart for it? When I don’t curse somebody for their ingratitude, why would God’s wrath may even be considered plausible? Nobody’s gonna make you ill if you forgot the 1008 thenga (coconuts) for Ganapathy! Come on, Ganapathy is not our villain. He’s the vignavinashaka (problem solver) of our lives! Why are Gods and Goddesses and all other form of deities picturised as scary, wrathful, scornful beings?

Faith is an over exploited commodity when it comes to religions and spiritual manifestations of it. You do the Navagrahahomam and the Ganapathihomam. If its breaking your financial stability, why do you still insist on the Bhagavathiseva too? Afraid that Devi would burn your life into ashes? What kinda faith is it, blindly performing the rituals, out of fear of condemn! I am not against religious rituals and activities. In fact, ever since childhood, that has always been the occasion of family gathering, lot of delicacies, lot of fun and frolic. Growing up, understanding the concept of the rituals, I am all the more approving of the nobility of the religious expressions. But things feel terribly awkward and ridiculous, when people tend to forget the fundamental idea that lead them to the initiation of such rituals.

Ah! All that seemed overboard for my scope of knowledge and experiences in such matters. Something triggered and I just couldn’t stop. Adding to the urge, the liberation of not having my parents around reading this, and prosecuting me for my spiritual ignorance, really boosted up the writing. Not to forget what I started off with, Daivamundu. But, Faith in fellow beings might speed up you revelation of it though! 🙂

English Vinglish!

~ Soumya ~ 1 Comment

Why do I do this? I so much dislike this practice of mine, where I use movie names as my blog titles! Why do I do this then? To increase the blog hit over search engine redirections? I don’t think I even knew of such a thing, until recently. May be it’s my simple liking for the movie? What about this particular one then? I’ve not seen ‘English Vinglish’! So may be, my affinity to movie titles may simply be as they somehow can be viewed associated to the actual things that happen around.

I am a Tamilian by birth. Brought up as a Malayali, often. Educated in English medium. Obviously, suggesting that I am pretty fluent in the three languages. Of course, there’s Hindi. And Sanskrit. And Kannada. Languages that I was exposed to, at various points of life, but could never gain enough fluency in. Language is just a medium to communicate. Conveying your thoughts to someone else, who might be interested, is the whole point. And the choice on the medium of communication,i.e. language, is often made based on the comfort levels of the involved parties, unless there’s a situational specification to it. But in the current scenario ‘here’, what we see is a totally stupid and twisted English drama! Like English is the most wonderful thing that ever happened to humanity! English is a good language. Awesome I must say, considering the ease of conveying intense emotions in simple words. Most of us would find it too much better and relieving to yell and shout at somebody in English, than in our own mothertongue. Coz it feels less intense and rude.You’d want to propose to someone in English, coz that takes away a good portion of the embarrassment. You’d want to dial up a Home Delivery service or go to a Customer Care Centre and talk in English, coz that’d keep the conversation shorter and crispier. And trust me, things get done easier and sooner, when you accentuate your tone!

But beyond all this, at some point all you wanna hear and cherish is your own language, in which you uttered your first words to the world. And definitely, from some people, you can’t even think of hearing any other tongue! That mishap was today! When someone screamed at the top of their voice, But is it lighting??”. For the record, that was a concern about the tube light. I didn’t want to laugh. It was not as funny as it was pitiful. Why do people put so much effort in mastering a language like it’s the end of the world! English Vinglish bina kya life! Indeed.

Janaganamana!

~ Soumya ~ 2 Comments

The national anthem of our country India is Janaganamana…, contributed to the nation by Rabindranath Tagore. Its sung at almost all occasions of public gathering, as the dispersal siren. And on all National days, like today the Republic day, and so many other similar days. It is composed to be sung taking 52 seconds, not running too fast with the tempo, nor too dragging. It’s an element of reverence that we pay to the country, at all social instances, by standing upright, at attention, without moving about for that 52 seconds, singing along with pride and respect. Disrespect to it is considered a serious offence against the country’s integrity.

See! I know a lot of stuff about our national anthem. I could go on to write a more detailed essay on that, like we all would have in high school. But to my greatest private embarrassment and shock, this morning, I realised I’ve forgotten the National Anthem! Half way thru the recital of it, after the flag hoisting at mom’s office, I was privately feeling dumb. How could I just forget the lines and be so blank! I used to sing it twice everyday for a great majority of time in my life. For some long 12 years of schooling, my days started/ended with this very same tune! So now when I think, when was the last time I ever sang the anthem? Can’t connect too many loose ends and relate to any specific occasion. Wasit back then at school, during one of those final morning assemblies?

Its disturbing. I can’t identify the things I lost/forgot. This should be what they euphemistically address as metamorphosis. May be this is just a phase. And this too shall pass. But nonetheless, it continues to disturb. What all am I actually missing in this process of growth and living this up! The anthem. I compensated by playing it over and over in my brain; rewind and replay! Will all things be this easy to redeem? Obviously. 🙂

In the going!

~ Soumya ~ 4 Comments

So now finally, when 2012 is in the going, what’s more important to me? Welcoming the New Year and stepping into 2013 with grace and certitude are all part of my schedule. But, as I said, what’s the most important thing? Its actually winding up 2012 in as good a note as possible by me, for myself. 2012 was a nightmare. Don’t take me for a person who whines this at every New Year Eve. The past year was that bad. 2012! This is what I want to do. Guess I just did it and I am so much more at peace with myself now. The past year must be wrapped in a box, tight and secure. I don’t want it to ever repeat and seep into the future, that begins in less than an hour.

I have a lot to say about 2012. I can list out the points, where I failed, how I lost, what I lacked. But I am sure that won’t help improve my New Year. They were tough days. And tough lessons. And tougher punishments, everytime I failed to assimilate them. I’d rather not take such a rigid course! There’s nothing I carry over from the past, into my future. There are no big anticipations. No ceremonious beginning of the year. No hopes attached anywhere. Its just another night. To wake into another morning. Nothing changes with the sun rise. Change is a matter of more substance than dawn and the light. I am not pessimistic here. I am not expecting the worst out of tomorrow, or the days that follow, making 2013. I am being the realist once again. The one that I was, before the onset of the mishap called 2012. I can deal with life, without fancy dates associating to it.

This year. This day. This moment is what I feared I’d never survive. I am thru with ’em all! What more to stop me! I survived. I stood thru today. And that inspires me to live thru tomorrow. Today is the day I feared yesterday! And today turns out to be just another, and over before I even knew it. With a handful of decisions (resolutions sound silly beyond tolerance) to revamp LIFE, I stil claim, ‘No hopes attached’! Hoping to stay detached from hopes. 😛

Payanangal mudivathillai!

~ Soumya ~ Leave a comment

Every time, I go travelling with my parents, the one thing that stays is the decision that *that* would be the last trip. But every next time, I am still travelling with them, with the same thought over and over. Payanangal mudivathillai. The journey never ends. But somehow this time, I am looking forward to more of these trips. I almost realise that I have always loved them anyway. Or may be, over the years, they just got better and better.

The one reason I probably love it may be is that, we always travel to Tamil Nadu. North or south or central. It will always be some part of the state. And I so much love this land, the people, the culture, the language, the temples, the all-night awake streets. I so much love being here. And every trip gives me strange experiences. The old lady who invites me to the seat next to hers, worrying if I hadn’t notice the vacant seat. The intimate addressing from total strangers, building innocent associations, genuine despite their transience. The down to earth aura that comes so innate with locale. The senthamizh that flows so fluently. The mallikai vaasam, from the jasmine clad women. The busy street and the crowd like nomads, stranded and lost, or often mesmerised and stunned by the glow of consumerism. The shopkeepers call out, coaxing you into buying stuff and endorsing even undergarments! The street vendors yield to bargain to any unimaginable level, and offer ‘special’ interest and discount to ‘all’ their ‘special’ customers, if you care enough to talk and build a rapport, of some identifiable measure. Nobody keeps trade secrets here! I was surprised how that old man explained the exact mix of his beyond perfect filter coffee! Was he so sure I’d never replicate it or did he just not care! There’s more to a coffee than just buying and sipping thru. There’s relishing a coffee and personally appreciating the taste to the old man who made it for you. “Coffee pramadham!”.

And today’s pivotal joint in our itinerary was Nellaiyappar Temple, Tirunelveli. The temple, in one word, is a maze. I am so surprised by the sheer awesomeness in the architecture. Not just for the sculptures, or the Saptaswara pillars,(where you here the seven swaras of Carnatic music, by the clang of each stone pillar, that vibrates like they were strings of a veena). Its a maze that they have built up there. The numerous doors at every passage, that leads to another set of numerous doors to numerous deities and sculptures. You don’t get lost there coz the most inviting paths are the most trodden direct paths, circling the temple in the shortest route. But if you choose to enter every next door you see, you’re probably to end up in some dark enclosed space with vermillion spread forms of Gods, with unknown names. I should probably upload a pic or two of the temple, to elaborate the greatness of the expanse. Looking forward to a similar mind blowing episode tomorrow, at Tiruchendur Murugan sannidhi!

Stranger!

~ Soumya ~ Leave a comment

So I’m back being myself, bits and parts atleast. The closed chapter of strange acquaintances are back once again and that’s the sign I am claiming for my comeback. I saw this guy getting down at my stop, from the same bus, confirming the road to the railway station. I should have just kept quite all the time. But as I saw him taking the wrong road, I couldn’t stop my instinctive response. So now we walked together to the station. I reminded myself to keep my words short and crisp. The typical Malayali woman’s insecurity, you may call it and I wouldn’t fully disagree! He didn’t throw much random chattering either. Or, so I guess. At the ticket counter, when his queue moved faster, I knew the impending danger. The tickets, since the destination was same, came in a single slip. There was no escape for the next five hours and it was made official by that chit of paper. I somehow didn’t feel the necessity to resist it though. I was lonely enough to have anybody’s company at all. Come on! I could always plug in the headset or pick up a book or atleast hop on to the upper berth if it becomes so bad. Off to the platform anyway!

And now he calls me by name. Rather, shouts my name across the platform. Okay, names were exchanged and everyone has it to be addressed only. However, from a stranger’s mouth, my name seemed the most awkward thing ever to be heard. Paying off my share of the ticket in the first few minutes itself, I was trying to build the safer indifferent aura around me. Either it didn’t bother him or may be that went unnoticed. Until the train’s arrival, things were pretty normal, both of us gripped to our own books. Once within the train, it was a mess and chaos to find an inch to settle down. Finally, walked across the pantry car (first time!!) and many more coaches to finally find a comfortable seat. And btw, the Indian Railway pantry is NOT so bad, pretty hygienic actually. And then, as we settled down, the chatterbox opened. Pucca non-stop irritating blabber mouth. He began with his freinds, business, the numerous contacts he has, the people he meets everyday, the all rounder he is, blah blah. Pretty much gloating. But there was a charm in it, that you would just yield to all the boastings and quietly listen. Which is exactly what I did. I had no room to talk. He even bought a water bottle and a snack packet, to engage my mouth. I was pinned to his incessant talking, with occasional concerns if the conversation was boring, though all we had was his unusually interesting monologues.

Somewhere in the middle of the talk, his mom calls and he offers the phone to me to talk to her. And now that was something way beyond my weirdest thoughts. Talking to a stranger was a good enough thing about socialising. But befriending their family felt very awkward. Somehow after that call, the conversation took a turn and we almost began picking up fights and debated over theism and spirituality and science and countless other things. I felt friendly (strangely instantly), with a stranger. As always, I got more serious than requiredabout the argument and surprisingly, he didn’t back off either. There was a strange genuinity in each point he made, making me want the argument to never end. But finally as we neared station, an attempt of reconcilation was initiated and made successful. We parted greeting eachother, wondering when might we see again. Concluding that there’s no next time, we made.our own way out of the crowd. He had offered to drop. But didn’t bother to ask for my number or any contact info. It doesn’t particularly make him genuine or fake. But that was the beauty of it. With no chance of seeing ever again, we still made it to give the best to eachother. No pretensions, no expectations, just a few happy hours. Or, so I choose to believe about the brief experience I so much enjoyed.

The NRI evil!

~ Soumya ~ Leave a comment

Without mention, it’s beyond just obvious that this has gotta do nothing at all with the movie, “Resdient evil”. I know the first sentence is totally irrelevant and out of place. But it was placed with the post inside my head! So, bear with me. 🙂 So the non resident evil, the typical NRI thing is what’s bothering me so much. As any other usual middle class, our family too has a couple of NRI relatives. And with most of them, I am in a fairly decent contact. All thanks to facebook and gmail! They definitely keep relations away from rotting and dying, if not fresh and lively. And one of those NRI cousins of mine is definitely getting to read this. So just be known. Its not me pointing a finger at you people, but a very genuine grievance, that most of us, your resident relatives always wanted to share. Rather write it down here and act like nothing ever happened than say it in person, and spoil the fewest times we see eachother!

Did I build up so much that now it feels like some unforgivable offence against humanity? Well, judging it so ain’t so wrong. Coz I definitely am offended by it. All these foreign returned people, you know, are so much deserving our heartfelt sympathy and understanding. They carry with them with a heavy load of expectations of their own as they fly back to their homeland. And upon that already heavy load, a bigger weight of obligation to meet their relatives’, friends’, neighbours’, friends’ of friends and oddly random people’s demands! Coupled with errands to unknown people with huge gift packets. Its such a huge commitment. And almost impossible to keep everyone happy and stay happy yourself. We just want to you people to know that we totally get that helplessness in you and hence really don’t care about the hapless greeting that we get. We fully get the situation and offer you all our understanding. Most genuinely. The one thing that we just can’t stand is your feeling of obligation to us! You know what folks? Its absolutely okay you don’t gift us anything. We are really cool with the idea that you don’t shower us with the best-est goodies from abroad! Come on people! Who doesn’t know that now Mars and Bounty are now chocolates kids demand down here too, along with all the Cadburies we get them! An iPhone or the latest tech release isn’t not much far from us, as long as eBay and Flipkart offers service! May be we don’t get to ‘feel’ the product with our bare hands. But never mind. We don’t trust your technical knowledge anyway! 😛

Did I sound too offensive? I’m slightly worried on that, coz that’s not my intention at all. I lovethe chocolates you people bring from there. May be its available here, but I like them anyway coz they are delicious. I love those tiny petite perfume bottles and their awesome fragrance. I even love this awesome thing that someone got me from abroad, which let’s me blog on the move. Its never about the worth of the things that you bring us, nor the availability. Its just that, gifts are NOT the reason why we come to see you. You can leave us empty handed and we still won’t grit our teeth behind you!

May be you NRIs would have never thought of things this way. The global exposure may have changed your wordl view and understanding of lives. But everytime you come down here, we are all back at the constraint thoughts of ‘engathu panku vere, ungathu panku vere’. (our home’s share and your home’s share ARE separate). Its not just about what you think of us and what you feel giving things away. Do look at your home-mates and what they feel. And then tell me if I hold a point or not! 🙂 You know what’s the worst thing that can happen to a person, in this context? Its getting caught up at a home where a NRI landing is expected! If you end up staying there, you’ll have to witness ‘unbelievable’ and unbearable levels of self digust! 😀 At the end of my post, I am sad about one thing. That not all my NRI cousins are getting to read this. I really wanted them to see things through our view point! Sincerely, we.

P.S. All through out, I has been replaced with ‘we’ coz its a collective grievance shared by too many of us. I still remember how somebody told me that the person was so happy about somebody else’s homecoming until the moment, a leftover gift was forcefully given, to make the person not feel bad. Ironic. 🙂

Nostalgia!

~ Soumya ~ Leave a comment

The first thing that I think of at the sound of the word ‘Nostalgia’ is the ‘mail a song’ programme telecasted in Kairali channel. The anchor’s sober looks and melancholic tone made the programme nostalgic enough. The genre of songs played also had such discretion. Even the beautiful Malayalam font that read ‘nostalgia’ had a style of long lost elegance and simplicity. The background score,the dimly lit studio. Everything about the show had an element of nostalgia in it, except the unavoidable shriek of advertisements.

The second, third and nth things that I relate to ‘Nostalgia’ are not in the order of their priority. Randomly, it teleports me to my dad’s native and the ancestral home that housed sprawling memories. And with recent reference (and relevance), it reminds me of 48 hours of ‘uninterrupted nostalgia’ that I shared with my little cousin. Everytime he said ‘nostalgia’, it meant a glitch in my brains!

I could keep writing about another ten things atleast, that I’d relate with nostalgia. But for now, the whole idea of nostalgia has shifted focus and now it means a totally different thing to me. You wouldn’t guess it until I say it aloud to be my new mobile ringtone’s name. (as a matter of fact, mine is called something else. But the tone is very similar sounding to the one named ‘nostalgia’). Long back, I had this habit of assigning unique tones for each contact so as to distinguish the caller from the tone itself. But then, it was really discouraging for I never got the rings that I expected to hear more often. Phone most usually went to silent mode too, making the uniqueness of the tones pointless. I used to jump at every vibration and even thought of doing something about getting a unique pattern of vibration for the callers. But then, ultimately, everything killed my hope of being beckoned by the callers that I always looked forward to. It was depressing. Finally, I had a hitch with the ‘nostalgia’. The very loud, most unique and so very nostalgic ring of the old rotary dial telephone. Making you feel like somebody is calling from some decades behind, the ‘tring-tring’ indeed has stolen a lot of hearts. I really fell in love with my ring tone for it seemed so unique and nostalgic and a symbolic victory of getting away from my yearning for specific calls. But then, looks like I am not the only one. There are plenty more with the same idea about nostalgic ring tones!

Ah! That’s perfect. Just as I am typing this, the very same tune is playing in the background. Somebody is being beckoned from their long lost past! My tone is not unique anymore. Yet, very so passionately, I cherish it as a nostalgic piece from my fading memories.

The swing!

~ Soumya ~ 2 Comments

I aint a child anymore. I very well get that. But then, as in everyone’s life, there could be something in mine too, that can bring out a bit of a child in me. It kinda contradicts my own theory that I never felt child enough. Life was always very pragmatic and rational to me. Excuse the past tense. It still is so and will as well continue so. Eventually, I reckon that my losses are something that I lost in the mad rush of articulations. Knowing it to myself, that none was intentional, I assume I can live through the losses. Ironically, despite the whole missing of sweet naughty memories, I do have occasional reminiscences. Of a past that I never had.

My nostalgia and longing have always been mocked upon. I dont blame anyone. Nor am I particularly sad about being laughed at. I honestly understand that all of them have a point. For my nostalgia is ridiculously dwelling on a past that I never had. It’s difficult to fathom and empathise with me. Very so often, I fail at that all by myself. My birth and raising up was completely in a city, that’s continuously pacing to the “Metro” status. My life is pivoted around the city and the normal urban middle class scale. But every time I visit my dad’s native, something changes in me. From my very first visit till the current one,(typing from the very same home’s sit out), I have increasingly fallen for this place and the old ancestral home.I connect perfectly to the village, the temple nearby, the temple pond, the home itself, the extended backyard, the cramped bathroom, the dimly litambiance, the ear-bursting loudspeakers. Not to forget the dusty attic and the rickety ‘monuments’ and the ‘priceless treasure’ that I dig out of them, in every single visit.

I wish I could write more and relate my existence to something worth the survival. But instinctively, I believe that somethings are better unsaid. The aura that this place radiates, is amazing.I am spellbound by it’s charm. I am surprise how I am urged to write about one particular thing. The swing of my life. The only one that I truly admired for its rhythmic oscillations. As I sit on it and rock myself, it feels like the entire world is striving to do away with my sleeplessness and cradle me into a peaceful sound sleep. My swing!

For the first time, there was actually a choice to not rock myself. Somebody else did it for me. I am glad. Blissful.

Update : I guess the reference to the swing was very vague. But have a close look at the image just above this. Its an open gate with another opened gate within it. That’s where I sit and rock! 😛

The hole in the wholesome

~ Soumya ~ Leave a comment

Change is difficult for me. For change is never complete to me. It’s partial and segmented. Change is oriented and specific, limited and bounded by constraints. I have never changed anything about me completely. Exceptions held onto me like vicious inescapable traps. I always fell for people, things and places and the goodness and promises that they hold. I always did. I’m trying. To change my exceptions. All of a sudden, it sounds perfect to believe it never was people. People are fake. Every single one of them. I cant spot a single face of genuinity among all the faces that I ever have seen. Not even in the mirror. That makes my point crystal clear.

A revamping change is frightening me. I’m afraid. But I dont cry anymore. Never again do I stay helpless. I dont see a hand to save me. All is fake. Nothing is real. No one is genuine. I am fighting. Not against the disgusting cheat. But the exceptions of my change. People as a whole are kept away. Nobody is worth my trust. I have learnt it the hard way. I was afraid to change as a whole, coz the exceptions ruled over my changes. Nothing ever got changed coz my exceptions were strong. Not anymore.

My nostalgia continues. About places. About the rooms. About the setting suns. About the moonlit skies. The dine outs. The second shows. The aimless wandering. My nostalgia stays with them. The change doesn’t change them. But people. They are more than merely irrelevant. I’ve learnt. The hardest way of life. Betrayal.