Some people genuinely go to the gym for the sole purpose of attaining fitness. But most, I suspect, are like me. I make sure that I go to the gym at least 5 days in a week. But I never push myself beyond my comfort levels. I will not do weights because of my doctor's advice; In 1985 when I had severe neck and back pain I had been advised not to lift any weights. And to this day I don't! I walk on the tread mill for about 20 minutes carefully ensuring that I don't ever increase the speed beyond 6. One has to be slow and steady to win the race, remember? On days I am in a good mood I use the cross trainer for about 10 minutes - that is on a couple of days a week. This is enough to assuage the pangs of my conscience and to nonchalantly tell the doctor during my periodic check-up that I am 'pretty regular at the gym' eliciting a nod of approval from her. In fact last time she even said that she admired my perseverance at my age while she herself rarely exercised. And I gave a very smug smile acknowledging the compliment. Well, it wasn't like I was lying to her. It is true that I am regular at the gym and she never asked me what I did there.

Since it is that time of the year when you begin to think of new year resolutions I was trying to make a list of areas where I needed to improve so I could choose the least difficult to work on in the coming year. That is when I had to admit that this is an aspect I could easily work on - one gram at a time. So I decided to observe my co-gymmers and see what I can learn from them.

This morning, by the time I reached the gym, two members were already there on the treadmill loudly arguing in Bengali about something. It was only after 5 minutes when they laughed together that I understood that they were having a cordial conversation. They always come together and throughout the time they are in the gym they have a conversation in Bengali. I suspect they are colleagues from the same department and this is an official meeting. Taking multi-tasking to new levels!

Then there is this other gentleman who walks into the gym, grabs the remote and sets the television to a news channel. E.v.e.r.y. morning - as though he is worried that during his one hour in the gym the world will change in ways he wont recognize when he steps out. I cannot believe that he cannot stay away from news even for the duration of his exercise. Or may be it is the news that helps him sweat more than the jog on the treadmill. He seems to suffer from a pain in the back as the trainer has to massage his back every morning at the end of his session. I can understand. When I watch news channels regularly I suffer from such ailments myself.

Some days I go there in the evening and that's the time the younger boys come. It warms the 'cockles of my heart' to see a few high school kids who prefer to spend time in the gym rather than on the internet. Observing them for a few days, I noticed that they did not progress beyond holding 3 kg dumbbells and moving their arms up and down while spending over 90 minutes in the gym; which is when I noticed the television again. Glamorously (un)dressed girls crooning love songs in a sexy voice - this would certainly not be a channel their parents might be happy to let them watch in their houses. It is even possible that the cable has been disconnected in their houses during their board exam years. Here they are - working out to their preferred music; Happy parents, happy kids, win -win!

Finally there are those who come to the gym, work out on every possible machine losing about 500 calories per session, hang from bars, pump with weights, top it with 5 minutes of skipping and 10 minutes of stretching and finally leave the gym dissatisfied that there are no more machines left to work on. This type scares me but mercifully they are very few in number.

At the end of these observations I have decided to increase my time at the Gym by 10 minutes from next month onwards. I have also identified the equipment on which I will spend these extra minutes - the foot-massager!

when a 52 year old Indian woman walks into the branch of an international Gym chain in a Bangalore suburb:

Ok, I can hear you thinking 'what exactly were YOU doing there?'
So let me start at the beginning. It was my birthday sometime last week.Yes you may wish me, thank you.(presents will be accepted till end of the month and yes, I accept cash.)
So dear daughter-in-law decided to gift me a gym membership knowing that I'd never do it on my own. She also knows that I won't cheat on exercising when money has been paid.
So that is how I ended up in the gym today afternoon.

As I climbed up the stairs to the gym on the first floor, the guard smiled and told me: "Beauty parlor on the next floor."
In return I gave him a warm smile and walked inside.
There were three girls at the reception who stopped their conversation abruptly and looked at me as though I had walked into a men's restroom. (What do you mean, how do I know that? I am 52!I have done every stupid mistake there is to do. So you better believe it when I say that is how they looked!)
So I waved my receipt at them and while they were dealing with the truth I made my way to the changing room.
The two handsome guys who were on treadmills lost interest in me the minute I came out in my exercise clothes. The trainer was examining my shoes with interest particularly the area that had been chewed up by Zoozoo, my puppy on prozac.
Remember I already told you, I am too cheap to spend another 3.5 thousand on a fresh pair of shoes while I can still slip my soles inside this pair and tie the strings.

I fell in love with the trainer when he said that I need to consume 150 more calories each day. I almost called him "mother!". Who else has ever told you that you must eat more?!
He asked me what I hoped to achieve in these 4 months. Frankly all I had hoped to achieve was to extract maximum value for the amount that D-I-L had spent. I had no other nobler goals or ambitions. But this was my Miss India moment and I had to think up a smart, winning answer. So I said "I want to be as fit as I can possibly be at this age".
I could say he was impressed. Or perhaps he is paid to look impressed. Then he launched a lecture about how fitness is most neglected particularly among older women in India and how losing weight is not the same as being fit blah blah. He spoke of carbs and proteins and diet supplements and mutivitamins and...
Oh ya ya.wn -I lost him midway and started looking at all those fancy equipment and wanted to go and try each one like a five year old in a play ground. He asked me:"So that is my recommendation for you. Are you with me?" I hadn't understood half of what he said but enthusiastically agreed with him just to go and use the tread mill. Finally.

'Poor cardio-vascular and weight resistance; needs a lot of improvement' he muttered as he led me for what he claimed to be the toughest challenge. I could not believe that anything could be tougher than what I had already been through. As I waited for him to ask me to lift weights of 100 kg or some such thing he simply asked me to lift my knees and bend my hips and so on like school P.T. exercises.
'Ju ju bi' I said to myself as I twisted my arms and turned my body , and bent forward to touch my toes. Years of yoga and stretching were not a waste after all.
"I have never seen a person of your age who is so flexible. you could pass for a 30 year old" , he said with disbelief.
And I said: "show me a thirty year old who can touch his toe".
Sweet revenge!

So tomorrow if the guard tells me that the parlor is upstairs I intend giving him a feel of my oneday -toned arm with a nice punch!

Sujatha asked me to answer this in a tag she passed to me. I have earlier spoken on what feminism means to me and expressed strong views on issues such as female foeticide, virginity, gender bias, rape as a means of subjugation,
genital mutilation, women's sexuality etc.
But this time around the question made me introspect more and honestly define the kind of feminism I practice.
Am I a feminist?
Would I fight for Equality – political, social, economic? yes.
Do I believe in equal opportunities for men and women everywhere? yes.
Do I fight discrimination in every way between genders? – yes
So can I define myself as a feminist and feel good about being on the politically correct side of an issue and go back to playing hangman?
Something was holding me back – a little niggling at the back of my mind. Like an itch in the throat that you can’t reach and scratch.

So I decided to face it headlong. Was I being totally honest?

At fifty, I am at a stage in life where I am fairly independent - economically and emotionally – where I am not often presented with situations where I have to make a feminist choice. Very rarely do I have to interact with people from outside the educated, upper middle-class where people hardly see me as a woman but mostly as a person. In professional dealings too I am fairly high on the food chain to be open to any kind of gender-based discrimination.
So from my comfortable sofa it is easy for me to look at feminism as an issue that is out there, or say what I think is the right position to have if one faces gender-based discrimination.

My early years were spent in a milieu where a girl was considered a responsibility and a boy an investment or asset. Girls were given the same treatment materially but there was a clear difference in attitude. There was definitely less freedom of speech and movement to girls than boys. One did not know there were other ways to live and so the discrimination did not hurt so much. Obviously I was not born with a natural sense of justice because I did put up with this kind of discrimination without even noticing it.

In my twenties and thirties too, as I look back, I think I have taken a lot of crap in relationships. I have been a doormat in some imagining it to be patience and love or sacrifice needed for a greater purpose. I have endured a lot and seen it as bad karma.. Allowing myself to be maneuvered, exploited by people, perhaps reinforcing their belief on why women deserved to be doormats.
I could blame it again on my upbringing but where was my independent thought – I was educated too, wasn’t I? I can only say that I chose to allow them to treat me badly. I did not stand up for my rights or my dignity as a person. I was not confident enough, I needed acceptance at all costs. I wonder if I symbolised reasons why women are considered the weaker sex. So in that sense I probably was not a feminist – but I was the reason why such movements were needed. :)

I believe I became the person that I am only when I turned 35. By this time, I had developed enough confidence and ideas and begun to see me as a person rather than defining myself in terms of others. I am outraged when I see discriminations of any kind – particularly on the basis of gender and let out steam here.I try to talk to younger people and make them see the flaws in their reasoning or areas of weakness in their relationships with men. I try to give them the confidence that they do not need men as emotional crutches but as equal partners in their marriage. And in this space I try to register protest against discrimination when I see it hoping to reach out to a handful of younger minds with my thoughts and hoping to provoke some discussion on sensitive issues affecting women or at least prod them gently to think about these issues.
But by the time I was 35, my life and station had moved to a place where there was less room for exploitation on the basis of gender. Have you noticed that Indian men begin to treat other women in a sexless way when they turn 35 or 40? They do not mind having bosses of a certain age, somehow they do not seem a threat. They do not make passes at them. Not as a norm in any case. They are not objects any more but respectable behenjis and auntys. And I am not complaining. The point is that by the time I was 35 or 40 there was no need to fight for any feminist reasons because there was no cause – no one was looking at me that way. I mean , at least most of the time.

So the answer to the question ‘are you a feminist?' would be a “yes’ without a trace of doubtsince it is in the present tense. But the point is that I was not one when it could have made a difference to my life. And even today I am not constantly treat one another fairly and without bias.
And would I be a feminist if I had to risk life and limb for it? Would my safety and life be more important to me than my individuality and rights? Would I be a feminist, for example, if I were living in Afganistan today? I am not sure. Would I even notice the discriminations if I were born in Saudi Arabia and lived there all my life? I don’t know. I would be a different kind of person then. And since I know from my experience that a sense of justice is acquired rather than genetic, I cannot answer for the kind of person I would be under different conditions.
So I guess the answer to this question in its entirety would have to be “I DON”T KNOW.”

I told the auto rickshaw driver to drop us off at the Cottage Industries Emporium and got busy chatting with Gita on how much the seasons in Bangalore have changed in all the years I have been here. Suddenly the auto stopped and we found ourselves on infantry road outside Cottage Arts Emporium and my puzzled look was answered by the auto-rickshaw driver with a request to check out the shop as he would get a coupon for 2 litres of petrol for every customer he brought in. He also assured us that there was no pressure to buy. So we went in determined to walk right in and out of the exit in 2 minutes.But what followed was an amazing drama and a real eye opener for me on converting the mundane act of buying into an art of negotiating a deal.

We were welcomed very warmly by one of the partners of the store telling us which region each product was from , the material used and the type of craft it represented while casually inquiring where we were from. Gita's accent gave her away (she is half Italian and half Mauritian-Indian and has lived all her life in France) and the moment he realized he was dealing with a foreigner he knew where to steer us - the ornaments section, precious and semi precious stones set in silver.

This guy would dramatically open a box, peep in and pick out a piece saying "This is something very special" and place it on the velvet tray as though it was an antique piece of sculpture and then he would admire it himself from all sides. And while we are looking at it or trying it on, he would open another murmuring "I think I know your taste now. Here I have got the one that is perfect for you." As the pieces kept coming out,I kept looking for the price tag and not finding any, asked the guy for the price. And the response was a gentle "Make your selection madam. I will give you a good price." Trying to make a selection without knowing its price always makes me nervous but Gita was'nt worried at all which made me think that she was really going to be ripped off her Euros.And if she expected any help from me, she was going to get none as I had no idea about their worth or their price elsewhere.

So she selected 3 pairs of earrings and finally asked him "How much?". In the meantime we had been served Kahwa with saffron and my instinct told me that this was going to be along afternoon.
He picked each one of the pairs and after describing the stone and the place it was from he assured us that he was giving us the Indian price and quoted the price for each.
Gita :Is that your price if I take all three pairs?
He:ah if you take all three I will have to make a deal of course.
(He picks up his calculator and after some detailed calculation takes 200 off the total.)
Gita:No, I don't want them.
(And I pick up my handbag.)
He:No madam. I want to make you happy. Ok, you go ahead and quote your price. Don't you like them?
Gita: "Not at that price, no, I don't like them."
He:This one is real sapphire and that is garnet and that one aquamarine.
Gita:No,the sapphire one is not finished to perfection. I just noticed a couple of defects. I have enough garnets. I am more interested in the aquamarine.
He: ok, I really don't want you to go away unhappy. Tell me how much you will pay for all three.
Gita:No, I don't want all three. I only want the aquamarine.
(I put the bag back on the counter and sit down.)
I notice that he is keen to know how much she is willing to pay and she is not willing to divulge it. Not yet! Later I learn that it is bargain etiquette that if you have stated a price you cannot go below it. It is understood that if he comes to that price you will take it.And once he knows your price his whole purpose is to make you go higher than that.And so you should never let him know what you are willing to pay.

He:Ok, tell me your price for the aquamarine.
Gita:See if this was less than 1000, I don't even think about it because I like it. But if you say 1000, I begin to think of whether I need it and of all the other stuff I could buy at that price, may be a Pashmina or something.
He: Ah Pashmina? You like pashmina? We have some excellent pashmina. let me show you. You don't have to buy. It is just to show you our quality.

And so we turned around to the pashmina section and he asked us if we would like some more kahwa. And I knew the afternoon was going to be even longer than I had originally thought.
The pashminas come down from the shelf, different shades and grades and we get explanations on which part of the sheep the wool came from in each case. He still wont tell us a price until we have selected what we like.Finally she picks up five and he starts with an asking price of Rs 14,500 for 5 and she refuses to budge from her offer of 10000 for 5. Meantime, an American couple have bought 3 pashminas @ Usd75 per piece right there under our eyes!

But closer to me the chess movements were being played to perfection by both, neither missing a single step or giving away any advantage to the other.He wants to wring that extra 50 per piece from her and she will take 5 or none if he doesn't agree to her price.

After 20 minutes of haggling over the pashminas, he agrees to Rs 12,000 for 6 but complaining it was his fault to have quoted us a fair price to begin with. He is only concluding this deal because he wants her to refer him to more of her friends visiting Bangalore.And he wants her to be happy!
She retorts by saying she doesn't really need them but is taking them only because she likes the quality even though she knows she can get it a little cheaper elsewhere if she looked around!
He tells us that if we can find it less than 3k in any shop in bangalore we could go back and he will reimburse our payment and we could keep the stuff for free!

And finally he throws in the aquamarine earrings too at Rs.500 (even though his break even price is 650!)and adds a gift of a pack of saffron and a papermache handpainted jewel box, all the time insisting that this was a deal in which he made no profit whatsoever. But of course, he says, one can't always do business with people, there are times one loses for gaining a relationship!

We walked out of the shop one hour later. I was completely dazed by this total new approach to buying while she explains to me how it is the same in Africa, Egypt and Turkey where the merchants are actually offended if you do not bargain. Since it a piece of handicraft or art, they do not believe in fixing a price. It is all about how much the buyer estimates it to be worth and whether the merchant is willing to sell it at that price. So the price differs between individuals and it is not dishonest at all. She tells me that they really appreciate when you know the real value of their ware, its quality and its worth. I guess this goes back to the time when the seller was also the maker of the goods he was selling! It must have given him great pleasure to talk about his ware and see them appreciated whether they were bought or not.
While there is practical sense in going into a fixed price shop and picking up what you want, this is sheer adventure. We seem to have lost out on an art for the sake of the security of a fixed price.

That was indeed a real shopping experience for someone who does not have the ability to get 50ps knocked off the price of a kg. of vegetable. This is probably the longest time I have spent shopping but I simply loved it. Next time you are in Bangalore call me, I could take you there, all for another delightful experience of 'making a deal' on a carpet or a shawl. But be prepared to spend an entire afternoon for this.

Watched an iranian film - Leila. A very insightful portrayal of a woman who is forced by her mother-in-law to share her husband with another woman because she cannot bear him children.Her husband finally gives in to her pressure only on condition that she would not leave him because he loves her very much. But in spite of all her strength she is unable to stay in the same house when he actually brings home another woman as his wife, even though she herself had given him her approval. The plot would fit as well in any Indian televison serial or film except that in this film all melodrama had been totally avoided and the feelings of all concerned portrayed sensitively.

Being a woman I could relate to Leila very well - her sense of guilt ( though entirely stupid) at her inability to be a mother and her inability to share the man he loves with another woman.But my son who watched the film along with me was completely outraged at the idea and the stupidity of the women and their whole approach to the issue. He could not believe it when I said this was as common in India even among the Hindus.

I remembered a story that my friend A had told me about her grandfather. She is from U.P. and this happened in the later years of the 19th century. Theirs was a family of rich landlords. Apparently her grandfather's first wife could not bear children. So she insisted that her husband marry again but the man loved his wife so much that he said it was impossible for him to love another woman.But his wife kept insisting until finally gave in on condition that the woman should not expect him to love her the way he loved his first wife. So they found a young girl from a poor family (one of the many daughters of a clerk who worked in their house)and fed her well and raised her in the house in order to get her married to the man when she became a woman. In`a few years the marriage happened and she gave birth to a child within a year. The child was immediately taken away by the first wife - she would be the mother of this child and bring him up. What could the poor gilr do? She knew this when she consented to the marriage, didnt she?And in the course of years, she gave birth to more children too but all of them called the first wife as mother and their own biological mother as "chhoti ma". And whatever she wanted she could not ask her husband but had to ask the first wife as that was the husband's instructions! Finally she was 60 when the first wife died, this is when the second wife became the lady of the house. By then her husband was gone too!
I have often thought about the two women and wondered whose sadness was worse -
the first wife who had to let her husband have another wife and live in the same house or the second wife who had everything and still could call nothing hers!

Perhaps for many who are in their 20s now, this might all seem like fiction. Sometimes real people are much stranger than what fiction can come up with! And guess what, the first wife in my friend's story was also called Leela, Leelavati!

In the past few days I seem to have got a fair idea of what motivates a lot of human activities - it is boredom. People make friends,play, write, read, dance, sing, listen to music, get creative - all in an effort to avoid boredom. Technology has kept up with the need with innovative tools - Mp3 players, chatrooms, online games, mobile phones, cable television - super smart ways to beat boredom. A few friends admitted to staying in their jobs just to avoid boredom - they did not know what they'd do with all their time if they stopped working.And I was most amused when one couple said that they decided to have a baby as life was becoming "boring" - what a profound motivation for procreation!

Boredom is not all bad - imagine if our ancestors had not been bored with daal and rice would they have created all the delicious dishes that make our lives so worthwhile? Would they have gone about building ships and exploring other lands and cultures? While some festivals were intended as worship, several were also for overcoming collective boredom, the original versions of "party"ing and they also gave birth to other art foms like folk dance, music and folk art such as Rangoli, madhubani etc.As someone said "The life of the creative man is lead, directed and controlled by boredom. Avoiding boredom is one of our most important purposes."
It seems that those who fought boredom became artists and creators and those who learnt to accept boredom became Saints and philosophers!

According to the Wiki, boredom seems a recent phenomenon.Apparently "The first record of the word boredom is in the novel Bleak House, by Charles Dickens, written in 1852,[1] although the expression to be a bore had been used in the sense of "to be tiresome or dull" since 1768."

Does this mean that prior to 1768, people were not bored? No,I think what this means is that, prior to this time people didn't talk of or complain about boredom. If they were bored they went ahead and did something to overcome it - if they were rich and powerful, they invaded the neighbours or had gladiators thrown in the arena with lions or got some artists to perform music, dance etc or set crazy competitions to suitors of their daughters; if they were ordinary subjects they went out and hunted, danced, played or sang or spread some rumour about someone they hated.Modern day man, devoid of some of these "pleasant" diversions,seems to have problems "managing" boredom and sometimes extreme boredom can cause depression and performance related issues.

One of the important things I have understood about boredom is that it is something one has to learn to cope by oneself. There is only a certain extent upto which others can help us overcome boredom but ultimately it is for us to learn to improve our resources adequately to handle boredom. As we grow older, the ability to indulge in social activities reduces and the number of friends also gradually diminishes, the next generation is usually so busy with their life to care about spending time with older people. This is when the hours hang heavily and if we have not equipped ourselves to beat boredom, life can become a major burden.

The other day I was really really bored - so bored that I actually ventured into a chat room on books and literature. And what do I hear from Amanda_24? "Am totally bored. Can anyone do something to get me out of it?" At 24 she is so bored that she wants someone else to get her out of it - I wonder what will become of her and people like her (who are not resourceful enough to beat boredom when they are 24)n when they are 40, 50 or 60 when no one cares if she is bored or dead. It is a scary trend.
But then boredom is apparently only the second worst crime. The first is what I have just done in this post - being a bore!
But at least I am not bored any more!!!

Passerby wants me to talk about 10 things that define my style - Yes, Style, Ishtyle, stylu - you heard it right!People who know me in real life know that style and I dont belong in the same sentence, not even the same page but what the heck, I will invent one for myself now!

Folk music is what I closely identify with - simple, no artifice, demands no skills - anyone who knows it can join in or you can learn as you go and it gets better as more people join in. And the things it talks about are quotidien stuff - the simple joys and sorrows that we all experience and can talk about. There is no difference or distance between the artist and the audience - everyone sings, everyone listens. That is my style of blogging.

Hibiscus - a flower that is always there unlike those other flowers which are prettier and fragrant but seasonal. You can always count on it to be available anytime you need it. Doesn't mind when you reach for it only when a jasmine or rose isn't available. No one who comes looking goes away disappointed. That is my style with people.

Mirror - neither flattering nor unfairly critical. Just say it like it is. That is my style with friends - no wonder I have so few friends! (In truth,most of my friends and even people who I am not so intimate with, who confide in me and actually seek my advice!)

Fish out of water - that is my style in parties and places where there are more than 4 adults I don't know but am forced to hold a conversation with. It is a matter of life and death and many times I prefer death to making the effort to be charming to strangers.

Holi- unrestrained, colourful, happy and noisy - that is my style with kids. I am such a willing victim to their charms that a four year old knows how to make me cry and get away with whatever he/she wants!!

Shahrukh khan's performance - usually boring but occasional flashes of inspired brilliance - that's my style of cooking.

Himesh Reshammayya's voice - Keep off and best avoided!! Or be prepared to face consequences - That is my style when I am upset or when you have done something to offend me.

Water - Take the shape and colour of the container, blend with the dish without standing out - that's my style in a team. The result is more important than my personal identity.

Government departments - That is my style of managing my time. Everything known well in advance, no changes ordinarily permissible, stick to rules, totally routine and boring!

Wine - my style of growing old (I hope!!)- getting better with age and time, thankful for passing through the press and ageing in the oak.When I am 80, I hope I will have a wonderful story to tell that I am proud of and which everyone wants to have a taste of!

I guess it is time now to sign off in style:
“Style is knowing who you are, what you want to say, and not giving a damn.”
-Gore Vidal.
NOw, THAT is EXACTLY MY STYLE!

I just received a mail from a friend wherein she wonders what I mean by "Practise random acts of kindness and senseless acts of beauty." This is a statement I picked up while browsing randomly for something and it made so much sense to me that I add it to my signature in my mails.

If you had ever been at the receiving end of a random act of kindness you would readily appreciate its significance, how it touches you so deeply that you want to be kind to someone else in return just to unburden the gratitude. One such instance happened when we were travelling in England and had gone to spend a few days at the Brockwood park School where some of our friends were teaching.That saturday afternoon we had heard that there was a house about 6 kms away with a few hundred year old thatched roof which was open for visitors. We caught a bus to the place and spent the afternoon there, enjoying the tea and cakes that were served but on our return there was no bus. Since the weather was fine and we did not have much choice, we decided to walk back hoping we may see a bus on the way. After about 1/2 km of walking, a car stopped near us. There were two ladies, in their 50s who asked us if they could drop us somewhere. When we mentioned Brockwood park, they said it was just a little deviation from their way. Since it was a small car, it was decided that the two ladies and the 2 boys would take the ride while the men would walk until they found a bus. So we got in, the ladies were very warm and kind and insisted that they drop us upto the school, never mind the extra mile.We loved the ride and the conversation and got off thanking them profusely. We were not expecting the men for a few hours yet but within about 30 mins there they were - apparently the ladies went back for them all the way after dropping us as they were pretty certain that there was going to be no bus that afternoon that way and dropped them to the school too - now That is really going "out of the way" to be nice to people whom you may never see again in your life. I cant explain how touched we were!
Just try doing something for someone when you are not expected or obliged to do and see how much happier you are doing it and how fulfilling it is spiritually.

As for senseless acts of beauty I remember a colleague of mine who would surprise us all with things like flowers on our table one fine monday morning - a single rose /gerbera or marigold in a glass. No particular reason but to put a smile on his colleague's faces. On some days it would be a small piece of paper with a funny quote and another time it would be a lollypop! Totally senseless but utterly beautiful and endearing.It was simply impossible to be angry or upset with anyone on these days - life seemed so beautiful!

It doesn't require great acts of heroism to make a difference. Small and uncalculating acts like these will do!

Just back from an "eventful" trip to chennai - "eventful" because these trips though invariably short are always fraught with some adventure or other.
I started my trip in a non-existent coach in a non-existent train leaving from an apparently non-existent platform( almost like the 9 3/4th!) My Iticket said that I had a berth in coach AS1 of chennai express leaving bangalore at 11:45. As I entered the station and looked at the electronic notice board I made my first unpleasant discovery of the night: there was no Chennai express that night- but there was a Cauvery express leaving at 11:45 to chennai! Investigations confirmed that this was the same train ( cauvery/chennai same difference??!) and I set about looking for platform no.5 -I am very strong in numbers upto 9 so I did not anticipate any trouble- but was a little taken aback to find platform no 6 after platform no.4 although the signboard seemed to say that 5 and 6 were in the same place. So anticipating some enginnering marvel, I descended to 6 and then realised that I had to reverse to platform no. 5 which did not have its own stairs to the overbridge. Having made 2 discoveries in one night, I thought the rest was easy - I just had to hop into coach AS1 and spread the mattress on seat no 49 and go to sleep. But after walking the entire length of the train I realised that this train had left Mysore without coach No AS1! Thankfully they added it in bangalore after making us all wait for about 30 minutes and finally around 12;30 I started my journey to chennai.

Every time there is a trip to chennai I plan my itenary days in advance and list out all the things I need to do there,the places and the people to visit. I am so excited about it all that I talk about the proposed trip to everyone I know. And finally I land in chennai and 30 mins on the road I start sweating and I want to take the next plane back to Bangalore. And I never do anything I plan to do, merely sit under one fan or other and come back. But this time the weather was lovely and I could do most of the things I wanted to do and in my happy state of mind I finally understood the reasons why I love this place so much.

People: people here are very friendly if you speak to them in Tamil and they engage total strangers in an animated conversation effortlessly. For example, within a short trip between the US consulate and Sterling Road the auto driver told me how tough his job was, how auto drivers are a maligned lot in Chennai, how the police are more corrupt and yet how he was sticking to this profession because it suited his temperament as he was over-sensitive and didnt like to be bossed over by someone else! He also told me that morality was on the decline with too much money in the hands of the younger generation.He said all this in such delightful Tamil, in a cheerful tone with no bitterness, added a few jokes and plenty of philosophical statements in-between -I guess I was happy to give him the 50 rupees for the conversation rather than the auto ride.
As I got off the auto there was this man who was releasing a rat from a rat trap on to the road. As I watched the rodent race past me, the man smiled and told me that he didn't like to kill them. I said that it may find its way back to his house and he said he had the trap to catch it again! Then he also told me that he had found the rat in the coffee flask when he returned from two days leave. We both laughed at the implied joke about a caffeine addicted rat! And all this with a guy who I don't know from Adam and won't recognise if I saw him again !!
These people have a way of touching you even when they have nothing to do with you - they are never shadows and silhouettes - even if you meet them for a fleeting moment in your life!

Sense of humour:I dont know if it is true of all chennaiites or just the people I meet - they all have a great sense of humour and a sense of timing for cracking jokes. They laugh about the most serious things.They love comedy in films and theatre, they enjoy it and they use it in their day to day lives.

Songs:I love all the music I hear everywhere in chennai - be it religious songs or carnatic music or film songs and their lyrics.

The fusion:And finally I love the way the old and the new co-exist so comfortably and blend beautifully. There is an early morning life with people flocking to the temples for margazhi pooja, and elaborate kolams decorating the roads and there is a night life in the multitude of restaurants that have cropped up all over the city. You see your neighbour's daughter zipping off on a two wheeler to her college clad in trousers and shirt and a day later you find her in the temple in a traditional pavadai daavani singing the notes of a carnatic song to perfection. And they look lovely in both and fit in perfectly in both places!

This place never ceases to amaze me!
I am happy to be back at home in Bangalore but I have already started looking forward to my next trip to fascinating chennai

Finding these slippers at several locations in my house, in the past few months several perceptive observers have told me that two slippers are missing. Now what do you see? one right and one left? Does that make a pair - so why are all these people telling me that two slippers are missing and looking for another left and a right which never existed in the first place?
Ok this is the story. one of the blue straps broke and the shop didn't have another pair of blue straps so I got the beige. The seller said he would not fix the strap and I had to find a cobbler to do the same. Just a few months ago, in an effort to rid the footpaths of encroachment,the police had evacuated a number of unorganised business people in my neighbourhood which included the cobbler. So I decided to exercise my skills in removing the old one and fixing the new - only to realise that my scissors and screwdrivers were all wrong. (Ok, ok, we all know who blames his/her tools) Finally after about half an hour of hard work, I managed to fix the new strap on the one that had a broken strap. Since the other strap was as good as new, I just let it be deciding to use the spare one when the need arose. Did you know that there is no difference between left and right foot in the straps - you could use them for either! so it is all good, it is a win win. Except...
except that every now and then someone reports to me that 2 of the slippers are missing. Once , with a small child demanding "where is the other one?" and me showing the blue one and saying "this is the other one", the whole scene resembled a bizarre comedy scene in a Tamil film with a banana, and actors senthil and gaundarmani!
And I make people smile when they see this pair on my feet. They either think I am a little crazy ( which is true) or I am cheap ( which is not true) But until today, no one has looked at my feet when I am wearing them and said that either my left or my right foot is missing - at least not yet!

Such is our slavery to norms and conventions and traditions that even slight deviations are difficult to accept. For example, when I posted my 400th post 7 posts ago and told my son that it was a landmark post he vetoed it saying 400 is not a landmark, 500 is! Can you believe this ? How do you think 400 feels about it, being nice and round and divisible by 100 and yet not considered a landmark? Such discrimination and just because it can't protest being a number and all! So I decided to espouse the cause of these other suppressed numbers and I hereby declare this post, the 407th, a landmark post.

( I can hear the resounding applause. Thank you, thank you, thank you!). The next landmark will be 408!

The dog and the little boy - both blissfully covered in mud as proof of enormous , unchecked fun that preceded the photo. Both totally accepting of themselves and each other, dirt and all. They just belong together so well in utterly comfortable bonding.
And what a joy it must have been to roll in mud not caring about one's clothes and hair and then posing for the photo with a totally Blasée "vee arr like this onlee" expression!
When I see the how happy kids are with animals, I believe that a boy or girl witout a dog is as lonely as a dog without a boy or a girl.

I chose the picture for the banner not only because of the "bonding" but also because it describes best the kind of person I am at heart!Yes, Vee arr also like this onlee.