I am not a foodie . I will eat anything that is set before me at mealtimes. For me , it is too much effort to undertake a trip to the other side of town to check out the food in a restaurant even if it receives rave reviews from connoiseurs. On the rare occasion that I do get to dine in one of these places that come highly recommended, I still look forward to the conversation rather than the food. Last Friday I met my friend Asha at a nice restaurant in UB city and later when Akila asked me what we had for lunch, I struggled even to describe it to her leave alone remember the name of the dish.

I would have imagined that a non-complaining consumer like me should be the favorite of any cook. But that is not the case. Good cooks want their creations to be criticized, appreciated , evaluated. The older women in my family cooked sambar, rasam and vegetable on a daily basis but eagerly waited for feedback from those who ate it. “sambar sariya irukka?’ (‘is the sambar ok?’) my grandmom would ask as you took the first mouthful of sambar mixed with hot rice and ghee. That was your cue to savour the mouthful and tell her how good it tasted. To be fair to her and most of the ladies of her generation , they turned out delicious sambar and rasam with unfailing consistency. She would have been delighted with a response a la wine tasters about the full body and the delicious blend of the spices and the divine aroma. Or at the minimum, a comment about the balance of salt and spices in the dish. Naturally she would be disappointed with my insensitive treatment of her labor of love as just a means to whet my appetite -no more, no less. No wonder she preferred to seek the opinion of my sister who could say that one-eighth of a pinch of salt would make the dish perfect.

Looking back, what amazes me about the cooking of these women of earlier generations is the consistency in taste. My grandmother’s rasam tasted the same every time she made it. Not once have I seen her put a spoonful in her mouth to check for taste while cooking but the finished product always had the same taste. We called it “kai manam” or the taste of the hand that made the dish. And we ate the same dishes most of the days of the week – a sambar, a rasam and a curry or kootu and yet the meal was extremely satisfying to the palate and stomach. It was simple, tasty and healthy. In recent times I have watched several cookery shows – Indian and international– on the television and that is when I realized the amazing simplicity of our cooking both in terms of the ingredients and in terms of the processes. We just boil, steam or fry. The basic ingredients needed were coriander seeds, chillies and tamarind and a set of spices stored in a box with 5 containers (anjarai petti) for mustard, fenugreek, cumin, pepper and asafetida. This is all they needed to keep their family fed on happy meals most days of the year.

A few days ago, my cousin gave me a cookery book containing recipes of everyday dishes cooked in our family handed down the generations. Today I made a kootu (vegetable and lentils gravy) based on a recipe from the book and when I ate it, there were tears in my eyes as it tasted just like the kootu prepared by my mother. It brought back so many memories of her moving about the kitchen, making these dishes and serving us hot food at every meal whether she was sick or tired or sad. In my mind, the taste of the food that she used to make was so much a part of her - as much as everything else she was. As the author calls it in this article, that taste was a part of my ‘food ancestry’ and it moved me to tears.

This experience is probably something that the younger generation cannot relate to. With the demands and pressures their careers impose on them, there is very little cooking happening in many houses of younger couples these days. It is true that today we have an endless range of food options within our reach and so there is no reason to confine ourselves to the traditional recipes of our ancestors. And whether people want to cook their meals or not is a matter of individual preference. But when the hearth no longer symbolizes family togetherness, children of coming generations will not have memories of growing up intertwined with watching their mom/dad cooking and the medley of smells from a warm kitchen, the signature taste of the way mom used to make this dish or that. With the rise of take-out, eating-out culture, a lot of traditional recipes may soon be forgotten too.

Since these recipes are so much a part of our tradition and culture we could probably make an effort to save them from total oblivion. Do you have any traditional recipe or cooking tip specific to your family that has already disappeared from most kitchens? Please do share as a comment or mail me at Usha.vaidyanathan@gmail.com

One way to get the most reticent of ladies to open up is to ask about their child. I have noticed that mothers are always enthusiastic to talk about their kids even if it is to complain about them. With pet owners, a sure-fire icebreaker is to ask about their pets. I have known the most curmudgeonly persons open up on the subject of their most wonderful pet . It is the same during morning walks. When I am at the other end of the leash, I find other dog owners, total strangers, nodding to me or smiling. By virtue of owning a pet, we all seem to belong to a club which has no physical existence but whose rules and by-laws we all know instinctively - the non-existent association of pet owners everywhere. These are the people who identify people as 'Munni's mom" or 'zoozoo's dad'. The other day someone in my colony was saying something about Mr.M, who used to be the chairman of XYZ bank and I found myself responding: 'who is this now - oh ok, you mean Simba's dad?" To some of us, even Barack Obama might be better known as Bo's dad.

When friend's call me the conversation invariably veers to the subject of my dogs somehow or other. I have a couple of friends whose children insist on visiting us every time they are in Bangalore just to spend some time with the dog/s. One such friend was in bangalore last month and he was enquiring about Munni. He had met her last when she was about 4/5 months old and remembers how hyper she was. In case you have read this post you may not have forgotten what a psychotic pup she was. I never thought she would grow to become the docile, laid-back character that she is. Now Zoozoo makes me think that Munni was an angel. This one makes me want to feed her Prozac to calm her down and pop one myself after chasing her all over the place . By contrast Munni appears totally zen. When my friend heard this he laughed and said "I think pets tend to reflect the personality of their owners. They are probably the way they are because of you and your spouse." Well, this friend knows us for over 30 years, that is from the time of our restless youth. I have to agree that there was a period in my youth when I was as hyper as munni and zoozoo. That this period may have lasted for about 20 years doesn't really give him the right to make that comment but you know how friends are.

His comment made me think about the personality traits of the dogs I have had and how unique each one has been.
First of all there was Patta. She was a tiny pomeranian who was primarily my aunt's dog but spent quite some time with me whenever my aunt travelled. This was one dog with an attitude. One of her legs was damaged at birth and she walked with a limp but that did not deter her from facing up to the fiercest street dogs that dared to cross our house. To prevent her from running away I had her tied to a cane foot stool thinking that would be sufficient to hold this tiny dog. one day I had left her like that and gone in. When I returned she had disappeared and I found her a few meters from our house. There she stood with the leash still attached to the stool and there were 6 street dogs around her and she was scaring them all with her persistent bark.
Such was her spirit!
This was a dog who wanted to go for a walk and once she finished her business, she would ask you to carry her back. Now Patta had clear ideas about where she wanted to sit, sleep etc. If she wanted to sit on the chair you were seated in, she would simply sit before you and stare until you get up. She used to love tomatoes and cucumber and go and stand near the fridge if she wanted some. Coming back from work and finding her sleeping inside my wardrobe is one of my sweetest memories of this totally fearless white pomeranian. And I wasn't allowed to raise a hand (in jest) at my son - she would jump between me and Siddharth shielding him and barking at me - all this when she was just a foot in height and my son was well over 5 feet!

Then there was Sabha 1. He had been rescued by a French student who left him with me when it was time for her to go back. He was with me until I found a home for him. This guy would sing himself to sleep. And he thought Patta was a joke. He could not believe that such a furry, fluffy, fussy character was really a dog. So he would go and pull her tail and Patta would be neurotic. He was too small to climb on to chairs so Patta used to jump from sofa to sofa just to avoid being caught by this fellow. When we sat outside the house Patta would be tied and Sabha, being small was free to roam. The rascal would sneak behind Patta, bite a clump of her fluffy hair and when Patta would start screaming, he would quietly run away behind the plants. He was quite a rascal who went to guard a farm a few weeks after being with me. I do not think Patta ever forgave me for bringing him into HER house.


Munni 1 was actually a wolf in dog's clothing we think. We picked her up from Cartman Animal Shelter. She had been in a street accident and Cartman people had rescued her and put her up for adoption. The accident had damaged her spine but that did not deter her from running at lightning speed. She was capable of squeezing through window bars and getting out of the house when she wanted. She did not bark much but she would BITE. She would bite first and then wag her tail. she had bitten me, the plumber, electrician, painter - just about anyone who came to the house. She would look adoringly at you and just when you bend down to pet her, she would bite and run. When her spine got worse and when she began to need constant hospital treatment, X-rays etc, the doctor advised us to send her to CUPA. I can't forget the surprised look in her eyes when I left her there and walked away. I cried for days after that.

Sabha 2 walked into our house on his own. He would sneak from under the gate to look for milk in Munni's bowl and would linger within the compound. If Munni bothered him too much he would quietly sneak back the way he came in and this would make Munni hysterical as she could not catch him. He would return when he thought Munni had calmed down. So it was more a case of him adopting us than the other way around.
He was the sweetest dog I have had so far. His tail just didn't stop wagging. He was happy with everything in the world. He had no grand plans of guarding the house and he acted like a polite receptionist welcoming everyone into the house. But they had to be older than 10. To him, humans below the age of 10 or less than about 3 feet in height were the worst menace to the world.
He got a bit ill-tempered after he started getting epileptic attacks when he was about 4. We could not believe that our sweet dog could break the jaw bones of a Rajapalayam dog when they got involved in a street fight. He used to love riding in the car and truly believed the car was his. This is the guy you see here. He was with us for about 6 years.

Munni2 : we thought this one would win the world's worst dog pageant considering that she was a one-dog demolition squad in the house. As a pup, she could not be left unsupervised for one minute - running, breaking, digging and stealing food. I wrote a detailed post on this terror here.But surprisingly she has turned out alright. She actually understands commands and even obeys them when she feels like it. Today at the ripe age of three and half she leads a totally retired life eating three square meals a day. She thinks her job description is to follow me around everywhere and to make sure that she gets her share out of anything I eat. She can be found sitting forlornly in my porch whenever I am away. Rest of the time she is never more than 10 feet away from me. She protests vociferously if she asked to stay outdoors. Generally she can be found stretched in the most comfortable spot in the house depending on the season. Considering how possessive she used to be about me and everything in the house, it is a great surprise that she has accepted Zoozoo into the house so gracefully.
She seems to have outsourced all barking and guarding duties to the able junior - Zoozoo, who barks and jumps for two dogs anyway.

Zoozoo; is the latest and possibly the last dog I will own, simply because I am not sure that I am going to survive bringing her up. Within the span of 5 minutes she can be found digging a huge pit in the garden, running after Munni, peeping into the dustbin for anything she may find to drag to her bed. I have already changed her bed 3 times as her favorite pastime is to tear the cover cloth and spread the cotton all over the porch. And whenever she is excited she tears up some cloth, any cloth that she can find. There is hardly a towel or a bed spread that is not torn in the house. Other casualties to her sharp teeth include my Reebok shoes, power cord of the laptop, Akila's (D-I-L) branded handbag and my spectacles. For her speed and destructive capabilities, I should have named her Tsunami.
She might have a great career in politics because she can flatter anyone with by bestowing her adoring looks, licks and furious tail-wagging as long as she can get what she wants.
Some people don't approve of Bonsai culture. Zoozoo doesn't like growing plants in pots. She systematically pulls out plants from pots and leaves them on the ground. Perhaps this is part of some environmental movement that I am yet to understand completely. But she is a dog with civic sense - she will do her potty only in our garden. She jumps up and down until she is taken for her walk in the morning but will always hold and come back to our garden and do it inside the compound! With proper training I think she can be trained to be a goal keeper in one of the ball games - such is her obsession with balls. She runs after them and catches them with the kind of passion I have seen only among players of these games.

Each of these dogs had/has a distinct personality but despite being so different their modus operandi is the same: They all know how to manipulate their way into our hearts.They take one look at me and they know 'here's the loser I want to adopt". Then they go about charming me with an overload of cuteness and slowly move into my house. Once this is accomplished, they go about doing exactly what they want to do. And whenever they hear me say "I am the owner of these dogs" they smirk inwardly and think: 'Ya,right.'
I am sure that's the story of every dog owner's life!

It was a discussion on safeguarding of individual rights among married couples.
A lady complained that her husband wants her to vote for the candidate of his choice. She feels that he has no right to interfere in her right to vote - a right given to her by the constitution as a citizen of this country.
Husband retorts that the wife does not know the P O L of politics. She doesn't even read the newspapers. So he is only trying to be a responsible citizen by ensuring that her vote is not wasted on the wrong candidate. It is his duty as a responsible citizen to guide her.
This elicited a lot of disapproval from the others present.

In as much as we enjoy rights in a democracy, do we not have a responsibility too - to be aware of the political system, the parties and their policies or at least know about the candidates in order to understand if they are the right candidates to represent us? I hear many youngsters say that they only read the sports page or the entertainment pages and do not want to know about politics. " I am not interested in politics' is a refrain heard among a lot of youngsters. Is this even a choice in a democracy? And they have the right to vote by the time they turn 18. Who do they go and vote for? what criteria do they use?

If this is the case, is it even a case of interference in their rights if a more informed person tries to advise members of their family on the best candidate to vote for? Of course the ideal situation would be to enlighten the ignorant about the parties and their programs and then leave the choice to the voter. But if the person says that he/ she doesn't want to know about politics, why is it wrong if a better informed person interested in the politics of the country tells l them to vote for a certain candidate/ party?

While I am all for individual rights, I don't see this a s a case of interference in one's rights. It would be an interference if he prevented her from voting or if he punished her for voting contrary to his advice. But I think the advice per se doesn't amount to interference. I would assume that we all have such a duty in a democracy.
What do you think?

And .... I am back!

First of all, my sincere thanks to all of you who wrote in to ask if I am o.k and why I wasn't posting. And since you asked:
People go to chennai and come back with saris or snacks from Grand sweets or surya sweets but I have to be different you see. So I come back with strange viruses and promptly fall sick the day I arrive. No offense intended to my beloved Madrasapattinam as I could be catching these viruses somewhere between Bangarpet and Bengaluru. I usually ignore this as a part of my life, suffer from a combination of cold+ cough+high fever for a few days and then get back to my levels of normalcy. Not this time. First there was high fever and body pain; then the fever abated but joint pains remained. With medication the pain subsided but left me feeling a bit drugged all the time. And I have a suspicion that like these computer viruses, this bug was destroying the ideas in my head every time one cropped up. I remember having quite a few ideas for posts in those few seconds of lucidity between high fever periods but cannot recollect a single one now - so how do you explain that!

It was here that I was about to thank you all profusely for your continued support and encouragement and take your leave until I am able to come up with an idea for a post when I heard a voice from the television say: Things your toothbrush might say!
I have no idea which program it was or who said this because the channel had been changed by the time I turned to look at the television. But it did give me an idea for a post and I began to wonder what my toothbrush might say if only it could speak:

Helooow good morning! what, grumpy and sleepy again this morning? mmm...
ow ow could you please go easy on the amount of paste that you are smearing on me? All that salt in it is making me want to puke. Why cant you be like other normal people and buy toothpastes with mint or peppermint flavor? Just my luck, I end up in this house!

'you know what, that one time you put a nice smelling cream on me thinking it was toothpaste? that was heavenly - for days after that I was smelling of sandal and turmeric and felt so good about myself. And I even remember the gentle warm water rinses I got during that period. That is when I got a glimpse of life on the other side. I wish you'd lose your head often like that.

'What bugs me about this house is the inequality and injustice I face. Why does my colleague with an identical CV get to sleep comfortably in your travel pouch while I am left standing in a bowl in your bathroom all the time? And she works just a few days in a year while I have to work everyday two or sometimes even three shifts? And this other one just cleans your remotes and other gadgets while I, I get to do the dirty work. This is really unfair. So I did not say a word when your maid mixed us up and put your gadget cleaning brush near the wash basin and put me in her place. I watched you with wicked glee as you picked her up sleepily and nicely cleaned your teeth. It wasn't so much fun when you finally spotted the difference and threw us both into the dustbin.

'Now I miss standing in that glass on your wash counter. I miss being picked up by you every day. I used to feel happy every time you used one of us to clean the dust off some tiny gadget and then declare: 'The toothbrush is probably the most useful thing invented by Man.' I already see my replacement standing proudly in that glass eager to start work from tonight. May be you will never think of me. Or may be you might say: 'that blue and white one with those gentle bristles? She was the best toothbrush I ever had. I haven't found one like her since I threw her away.' Just may be, as I tried to be the best toothbrush that I could be.
'It is time for me to go. I don't know where I shall go from here. Perhaps I will end up in a dog's mouth or in a little boy's hands or perhaps I will get buried and e simply forgotten.
'Farewell and may you have strong and healthy teeth for many years to come..

If any of the stuff in your house could speak what do you think it might say?

P.S.: And thanks to the reader who met my husband in Singapore and told him how popular my blog is in Singapore. I had no idea about this. Made my day.
And my husband had no idea that I wrote a blog - it is going to be seven years now and he gets to know about it now from someone on the streets of Singapore. What is it they say about the spouse being the last to know! hehehe...

Sandhya and TheIndianhomemaker tagged me to state 10 things that I do that are normally not considered feminine.
I grew up in a family where women did all the work and men analysed, criticised and paid the bills. I was considered a Tomboy because I had no problem speaking to strangers, I always spoke my mind out, never blushed, did not care about what I wore or how I looked.
It is a little tough for me to do this post because I really am not aware of what is supposed to be 'feminine' but I will try.

- I don't depend on a male to change bulbs or fix minor problems relating to TV antenna, cable, telephone etc. The other day there was no power in the house for about 4 hours and husband was trying to reach the electricity office. I opened the fusebox and found that the fuse had fallen and voila! I am a bit more mechanical than most women that I know who need help even to change their gas cylinder. I am generally comfortable around gadgets although I don't make it my life's mission to own each of them.

- I drove a scooter to work for about 8 years.

- I was the manager of a bank branch - at that time I was the only lady manager in the whole region although it is fairly common now. Some of the boys in the office insisted on calling me 'saar' just to rile me.

- Since husband had a heart surgery a few years back, I am the the one who lifts all the heavy things around the house. Come to think of it, I believe it was the case even before the surgery.

- When our son left for distant shores for the first time, it was the husband who was wiping away tears. I just said good bye, came home and slept. Not that I wasn't hurting. it is just that I tend to approach these things a little less emotionally and more rationally.

- I used to be able to change the punctured tyre of my car. Haven't done it in a while. Don't know if my hands have the strength still. Will try it one of these days just for fun.

- While at parties or weddings I tend to look at the women especially the good looking ones. I can hear your thoughts, hahahha. I just think that women look much nicer than men in general. That is all. And since I have no idea about the right stuff to wear and the accessories, I am in awe of those who can do it all and carry themselves well.

- Cannot understand why anyone needs more than one handbag or two pairs of slippers.

- will not wear something uncomfortable just to look good - e.g. high heels or stilettos. Will quite happily wear my walking shoes with my silks if only people would have the decency not to point it out and comment.

- I do have a slight beard these days which I often forget to pluck and I allegedly snore. Is that manly enough for you?

Now I am not tagging anyone but please feel free to pick up the tag and I assure you that you will have as much fun as I did.
I actually don't mind those TV remotes and beer mugs in Navy blue wrappers. IHM, where do I send you the details so you can mail them to me?

Have you read chetan Bhagat”s “two states’? Did you notice that he talks about the meals on banana leaf at his prospective in-law’s house? Does it sound so very South Indian to you? mm. But, unfortunately most of us do not eat our meals on banana leaves any more since we discovered the convenience of stainless steel plates and that was over fifty years ago, I think. In cities most houses do not have the space for their own kitchen garden and if they need a leaf for their meals they’d have to buy it from the market and sometimes it may not even be available in every market.

On the other hand banana leaf meals are indeed an important ritual at our weddings and special occasions when special feasts follow a family function. I call it a ritual as there are rules regarding the placement of dishes on the leaf and the order in which they are served in several courses during the meal. People who are in charge of serving the meal are supposed to observe the leaves and serve the side dishes as and when they disappear from the leaves according to the preference of the guest. Since it is difficult to know the preference of all guests before hand, this system did involve cooking enormous quantities of all items on the menu and sometimes food was wasted both on the leaf and as leftover food. Buffet system has come to be considered as a better option to avoid wastage but a typical Tamil feast does not lend itself elegantly to this. As it involves mixing rice with several gravys a plate is rather small to contain the spread of a typical Ilai sappadu or banana leaf feast.Several of my relatives look down on buffet system where one queues up with a plate to have the meal served – they think it is like a soup kitchen for the homeless!
Well, they are like this only – have I not told you about my Thanjavur roots and the sharpness of our tongue!

The problem with Banana leaf meals at weddings today is that the service is rather impersonal which takes away the essence of such a meal. Meals are contracted out and served mechanically at breakneck speed. Side dishes are served with tea spoons and if you are lucky they may come once again to check if you need any more. Otherwise it is a race against their serving speed. By the time you are halfway through your sambar rice , a guy appears asking if you need rice for rasam followed closely by the guy with rasam. Two minutes later, while you are still delicately negotiating the rasam from flowing on to your lap, a guy wants to know if you want more rice for the next course with buttermilk. It is indeed tough even for seasoned banana leafers. And there is an additional torture in some halls. To prevent the appalam from flying away they switch off the fans. Draped in silks in a mid summer afternoon, trying to eat hot food keeping pace with the servers and no fan? To an outsider it might indeed seem like a case that merits reference to the National Human Rights Commission.

At a Palakkad Tamilian wedding that I attended recently there was a Punjabi couple seated opposite me at lunch. It was a typical Palakkad feast with exotic stuff like Avial, Olan and erisseri and of course Paal payasam. Most of the North Indians I know who tell me that they enjoy South Indian food once in a while actually mean Idly and Dosa – nothing more. Avial and Paal Payasam? Oops they’’d need an orientation course even to pronounce their names.. So naturally this couple looked totally lost . They tasted tiny bits of everything and gave up early in the battle. Since they had nothing to do after the first two minutes of the meal they were watching those around with great curiosity – up to our wrists in the leaf, quickly shoving in mouthfuls in order to keep up with the pace of the service, all this while admirably controlling the rasam's flow within the boundaries of the leaf; sweating profusely while consuming the hot food in such huge doses but not letting go of a second helping of olan and erisseri. As I surveyed the leaf of the couple and saw that it was practically untouched, I wondered if they’d go home and make a few paranthas for lunch.

And the bride at this wedding was from Orissa. I hope there was some way her family had found to order in some Pizza unobserved by the groom’s side. Or perhaps they just sat and fumed at the banana leaf lunch and had their revenge at the Oriya reception?
Remember Aesop's fable about the stork and the fox?

P.s: Wrote this originally in Tamil - yes I have a Tamil Blog here. Please visit and tell me what you think.And please be kind...

I found a mail in my mailbox a couple of days ago. It started thus:

Hi,

We are shutting down DesiPundit effective midnight (CST) June 15th, Tuesday. It has been a fun five years and we have enjoyed every moment. We wish to thank all Community Members for sharing your content with our readers and I hope we managed to win you some readers.

Over at DesiPundit, people have moved on to other things and time & resources haven't been as plentiful for those who have remained. The Indian blogosphere and presence on other social media networks has expanded greatly and in our experience, it is no longer possible for human-powered aggregators to keep up; at least on a part-time volunteer basis.
...

Usually it takes an enormous bribe or dire threats to get me agree to a road trip.I am quite content to pack the picnic basket for others and receive picture postcards or photographs in return. One of the main reasons for this is that traveling in diesel cars on rough roads has never been much fun for me. I keep rolling the windows down to take a bout of fresh air to combat my queasiness, while those around sit on the edges of their seat waiting with supplies such as sickness bag and cold water in case I throw up. Not exactly anyone’s idea of a “FUN” outing. So it was with much reservation that I chalked out the route for a day trip to Channapatna, Mallur and Melukote with my sister and daughter-in- law - something do-able even for a terrible traveler like me and close enough for us to turn back if my tantrums got really uncontrollable. The plan was to leave by 7:30 and return by 5:30 p.m.

Armed with adequate supplies of water, gelusil, Eno, churan varieties, lemon drinks, paper bags and music CDs, we left home by 7:30 a.m. We were to stop for breakfast at Kamat Lokaruchi at Janapadaloka in Ramnagaram which, according to blog reports, serves unlimited quantities of idly, Vada, dosa, akki roti, pongal etc. apart from fruits, juice and coffee/ tea for a mere 80 bucks. It seemed worth making the trip just for this. Thinking of this breakfast had made us quite hungry but it was 8:45 by the time we were actually there.

Our driver Suresh must have been an ambulance driver in a previous avatar as he could not bear any other vehicle between our car and the destination. Although the car did not have a siren he compensated for it by honking all the way despite our vociferous protests. I explained that we had all day and we were in no hurry to get to any of these places. The idea was to see what was possible within lunchtime and then head back. It seemed that his desire to get ahead of all vehicles on the road had nothing to do with our plans. It was just the way he operated. But for this he was in control of the vehicle and knew the way to all the places we had in mind.

Breakfast was nothing exceptional but definitely value for the money paid. The dining hall had thatched roof and was surrounded by trees. The place was swarming with monkeys who seemed not a bit threatened by the hordes of tourists.
The toilets were wet but clean.

Once our bellies were full we became serious tourists looking out for places of interest on our way. One such was a board pointing to a road leading to the Government Lacquer ware Craft Complex where we decided to stop on our way back. The idea was to visit the temples before they closed for the afternoon. In a few minutes we were at the Shri Aprameyaswamy Temple at Doddamallur. It is an ancient temple about 1500 years old. One of the priests informed us that Lord Rama stayed here and had worshipped Lord Aprameya. Hence the deity here is known as Sriramaprameya. His consort here is called Aravindavalli. Both the idols are very beautiful, especially the way their eyes were done up was very alluring. The other main attraction at this temple is a very beautiful idol of Lord Navaneetha Krishna in the form of a crawling child holding butter in his hand. At the shop outside the temple we saw pictures of the idol decorated with butter and in another dressed up as a king. There were just a few other visitors at the temple. A couple had come with a prayer for a child. Before performing the special prayer for them the priest asked them to pledge that they would return to the temple with an offering of a toy cradle after the child is born. We saw many cradles hanging from the roof of the sanctum.
It is said that Saint Purandaradasa composed the song ‘jagadhodharana” inspired by the form of the crawling Krishna (Ambegalu Krishna) and outside this shrine is a stone on which the song is inscribed.
Despite its ancience and associations with Rama and Purandaradasa, the temple has managed to remain relatively less touristy. We did not see many tourists probably because it was a weekday. It seems a lesser known destination even to people who have lived in Bangalore for generations.
By 10 am we were back in the car and asked our pilot Suresh if we could reach Melkote by 11. He readjusted his fingers around the horn and feet around the accelerator and happily nodded. It helped that the road was good until 30 km. before Melkote and then we had to turn into a mud road which slowed us down a bit. Undaunted, Suresh jumped over sugarcane and straw spread over the road and zoomed through the curves and narrow lanes so we were outside the Tirunarayana temple a little past 11. This is a very sacred shrine for the Vaishnavites as Sri Ramanujacharya had stayed here for a few years and worshipped at this temple. In fact both the main image and the one used for processions are supposed to have been lost and restored back to the temple by Sri Ramanuja. Again the images of all the deities are extremely beautiful in this temple. The temple has a beautiful tank or Kalyani Theertham which has featured in quite a number of kannada films. (We were told that the song “Barso re’ from Guru was picturized here.)
Melkote has another important temple for Yoga Narasimhaswami which is on a hill and which is reached after climbing 250 steps. Legend has it that the deity was installed by Prahlada. There were too many partitions in the Darshan area forcing the visitors to crowd together to get a good view of the shrine. And although there were about 4 or 5 priests, it was surprising that none of them would oblige us with the holy water despite our repeated requests. It seemed that all of them were having a bad day.
From the top, there is a nice view of the town and its neighborhood.

All the way down there were beggars on the steps, some singing Bhajans and some just begging. We made a brief stop at the Temple tank before heading back towards Maddur for Lunch at Adiga’s Hotel. Although I was quite pleased with the behavior of my digestive system so far in the trip, I decided not to push my luck and settled for a Roti and Corn masala and helped myself to some payasa and gulab jamun from the South Indian and North Indian Thalis ordered by others.

Post-lunch we went to meet the Painted storks and pelicans at Kokkare Bellur. We followed the directions on the signboards and were surprised to see one board which just said Kokkare Bellur with no arrows pointing anywhere. So we looked around for a lake which is where we expected the birds to be gathering. Not finding one, we casually looked up and found them right there – perched on the trees. As we walked around the narrow street we saw every tree covered with hundreds of them and a few babies in their nests too. They were beautiful and seemed completely at peace among the residents of the village who were having a noisy prayer to drum beats at their temple. I could not get much information on why the birds chose this particular spot for migration every year. One reason could be the proximity to the river Shimsa which might supply them with all the fish they need. The trees were nothing special – ordinary tamarind trees. So that doesn’t offer any explanation. The villagers seem to consider them as harbingers of good luck and the bird droppings acts as good manure for their crops. Apparently the villagers treat the birds as their own and prevent them from being harmed. So perhaps the birds feel secure here. I wish they would open their beaks and speak.
A few children ran to our car and pointed to other trees with birds. One of the boys showed us a wounded Pelican and said that it ate 6 kg of fish everyday and drank huge volumes of water, I forget how much. Then he asked me if I could give him some pens. He looked about 6 or 7 and so I asked him what he would do with a pen. He said he needed it for school work and a three year old next to him nodded. I knew for sure that they did not use pens for school work but took out the three pens from my bag and handed it to them, By then more children had gathered demanding pens. One girl even offered: ‘Give me money, I will buy pens from the shop’. We did not want to give them money so we gave them some biscuits and they were happy. It was also funny that they kept calling us "teacher' but at least that is a sure sign that they all go to school. or is it?

Passing through Channapatna, we stopped for tea and some shopping for the famous Channapatna toys. There were a few shops on the highway but when we went in they did not seem very interested in selling stuff to us.
Since we did not particularly fancy anything either, we decided to look for them in the government craft complex but at another time. My experience so far even gave me the courage to announce: ‘I think we could drive down on our own.”

So we started homeward stopping briefly at the Kengal Anjaneya temple at Ramnagaram on the highway. We could not take the road to Kanva reservoir about 5 km away due to road repair work. We looked at our watches. It was about 3:30 and getting back home before the horrible city traffic started sounded like a great idea. So we let our driver Suresh step on the accelerator while we dozed in our seats. At 4:45 we were already home drinking tea.

A very short and pleasant day trip via the NICE road and the Bangalore-Mysore expressway (SH17). The drive is quite smooth except when you drive through the villages to reach the spots. Food is not a problem. There are plenty of restaurants. Fill up the tank, pack water and music, fasten seat belts and just follow the road signs. It is that easy if you are in Bangalore. I can’t believe that I did not do this before!

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!

It is unfortunate that eminent painter M.F.Husain decided to relinquish his Indian citizenship in favor of a Qatari one. Indeed, it is not a rare instance in India as every year several hundred qualified Indians relinquish Indian citizenship in order to obtain one in the U.S , Canada or other countries where they believe they and their family can have a better quality of life, better education and material prospects. Some of them go on to win Nobel prizes and then we have no problem claiming them as our own sons and daughters and even trying to share some of their glory by piggy-backing on their achievements which we have a right to because of the achiever’s Indian roots/ genes or whatever. But what makes M.F.Husain’s case different is that an artist of great eminence, someone who took Indian art to the international galleries living in India, was compelled to leave the country because he did not feel safe in this country despite the government’s offer to provide his security.
It is tough for anyone to feel free when one feels the need to be constantly protected by security guards. While most V.I.P.’ s seem to get used to it a necessary evil, Husain must have found it very stifling given his history of roaming around barefoot and his preference for spending time with ordinary people rather than the rich and famous. And in today’s time where it seems tough for people in the limelight to open their mouths (or write or paint) without offending some group or other, he might never have been able to go back to his free lifestyle ever again. He has managed to offend certain people /groups through his work even by misinterpretation or misunderstanding but there is no going back – that shall shadow him forever. He may have apologized but still he remains a valuable whipping boy for these groups to settle their political/religious scores and gain public attention.

Did Husain realize this and is that is he chose to accept the Qatari citizenship when it was offered to him – to make his home in a place where he felt safe, honoured and accepted as well as send out a strong message to India about how unvalued he felt here after all his contributions?

But what might the government have done differently that might have prevented this apart from offering him and his museums high-level security?
Publicly defended the paintings that offended certain religious sensibilities in the name of artistic freedom and dismissed all cases against him summarily? That would still not have guaranteed 100% protection against vandalism or the ‘right’ of some section or other to feel offended by his works.
There are some sections that attribute his decision as an escape from the cases against him. But his citizenship still doesn’t offer him immunity from legal proceedings of pending cases. And given his stature and the ability to engage the best lawyers to argue his case, he certainly does not need to run away from the country fearing our legal system. He is neither a petty criminal nor a terrorist.
Artistic freedom is another reason that is cited by the elitist sections. But this does not seem to be the main reason going by the country whose citizenship he has accepted. In this article on the subject Vir Sanghvi asks:

Now that he has chosen to live in Qatar, the Hindutva-wallahs will ask the obvious questions: How much freedom will he have there? Of course the Arabs will let him paint naked Hindu goddesses. But will they let him paint anything that even remotely offends Muslims? Anything that offends the royal family? Nude portraits of previous rulers of Qatar? Or even, nude portraits of Arab women?
These are crude questions. But sadly, the answers are as crude. Husain will have no artistic freedom in Qatar. He will be no more than a court painter to a medieval monarch. So has he chosen to live in a society that values the artistic freedom that he says he is denied in India? Or has he just taken the soft, very profitable, option and forgotten all about artistic freedom?

Husain is certainly aware of the limitations to artistic freedom in his new country and yet chose to accept its citizenship so maybe it is not so much about artistic freedom at all.

Perhaps it is all about feeling wanted, valued and honoured in his own homeland Is it possible that he may have felt this if he had been honored with the Bharatratna? Is it too late for it even now? Does it matter that he is no longer an Indian citizen?

While all this may not matter to the painter himself anymore now that his decision is made. Let us hope that he is able to spend the rest of his life in peace giving full expression to his creativity and genius. But for us as a nation, this is probably a good time to introspect and see how we can make this into a nation that makes its people, ordinary or eminent, feel protected and wanted here and proudly hold the single identity of being Indian.

This happened at the neighborhood supermarket yesterday afternoon. The only other shoppers in the aisle I was in were a young couple and their young girl about 3 or 4 years old. The little girl was picking up tubes of soap and toothpastes and was trying to open them and smell them while the parents were busy looking at other things. I happened to notice that the girl had opened a tube of cleansing gel and was having fun dropping the pink contents on the floor in some sort of modern art. I gestured to her mother to turn and look. The next thing I saw was that the parents took the tube from her, replaced the cap and put it back on the shelf and quickly left the aisle ignoring my advice: “I think you should pay for that tube.” By the time I found a shop assistant and informed her of the slippery floor in the aisle and the reason for it, the family had disappeared from the shop.

Bad enough that they let the child do whatever she liked in the shop; it was worse that they did not have the decency to offer to pay for the mess. Now the second one explains the first. What kind of behavior can the child be expected to learn from such parents? Do these parents realize the amount of damage they have done to their child’s values by cheating the shop of those 40 or 50 rupees ?

‘Don’t get caught’ - That is the message the child gets from such behavior. It is ok to do anything as long as you are smart enough not to get caught – Cheat, lie and even steal perhaps.

I always thought that parenthood is good for everyone because we learn to strive for perfection once we have a child looking up to us. We go all out not to lose our dignity in front of our child’s eyes. We refrain from swearing, try to be less impulsive and more mature. This is not to say that all parents are perfect but every good parent tries hard to avoid passing their shortcomings to their child. But as I see so many educated parents trying to violate traffic rules, jump queues, litter public places, I wonder what their children learn from such behavior. How would they learn to distinguish what is right from what is wrong? Or would they learn that everything is right and getting caught is the only wrong thing?

In his autobiography Gandhiji writes of an instance when he could not copy even when his school teacher prompted him to do so. So impressed was he by the character of Harishchandra from our mythology. I wonder what Harishchandra’s rating would be among parents like the one I saw in the shop? Would he be considered a ‘loser’ for sacrificing so much and not being smart enough to tell a single lie? As for Gandhiji and emulating his values the usual escape clause is: “I am not a Mahatma. I am only an ordinary person.” I do not believe that we need to be a Mahatma to follow simple traffic rules or have basic honesty. In a lot of cases such behavior is due to the simple inability to distinguish right from wrong and lack of moral courage to own up to wrong behavior and all of this, in turn, can be traced back to the absence of proper guidance and example from one’s own family and especially parents.

There are some parents who are in denial. They say that petty corruption is a way of daily adult life today and children do not really notice it all. They are still in their own world of toys and fairy tales and all this doesn’t impact them. I wish it was true. I remember an incident that my son told me when he was in 7th standard. Their school had gone on an excursion to Mysore and Shivasamudram. Their teachers wanted them to see the hydro-electric power station but the officer in-charge refused permission citing some administrative issues. One of the boys in the class was a state minister’s son and he told the teacher: ‘Sir, please note down his name. I will have him take care of.’ It is not tough to guess where he got that from, is it? As a wiseguy said: 'Don't worry that children never listen to you; worry that they are always watching you'

Unfortunately parents are a child’s first role models and parents like the ones at the supermarket are a threat to their own children. A child exposed to such parental behavior is confused between right and wrong and the circumstances under which certain behavior is wrong. And when they land themselves on the wrong side of law for a crime their parents wonder where they went wrong. Perhaps the world would be marginally better if each one of us could use one simple question as a reference for every action: ‘What if my child did this and got caught for the same?” This would make each one of us a better human being with some hope for a better world for our children.

It has been a while since this blog got anything by way of an award and so it was a great surprise when R's mom chose me in her list of awardees. Thank you.

I like the condition attached to accepting this award which is that I should state 7 facts about myself which I need to share. I remember that we used to have quite a few tags like this in the early years of blogging which actually let us know a bit more about the bloggers than what we gathered from their posts. Above all this came at a time when I didn't seem to find anything to blog about. So whether these facts about me or interesting or not, it would keep the blog breathing for a few days.
So 7 facts huh, let's see:

1. I have a constant fear of failing which manifests in the form of dreams where I am either prepared for the wrong subject, or I lose my hall ticket or I simply arrive at the hall when the exam is about to be over.

2. It makes me very uncomfortable when people have high expectations about me. I feel very pressured and the consequent stress kills me. I went through the whole of my bachelors' and post-graduate degree courses trying to meet the expectations of my professors which made me a wreck most of the time.

3.I do not respect people who do not contribute their bit as part of a team or in the house. I cannot stand lazy people, smart shirkers and passive consumers.

4. For me, meals with friends and family is about the company and conversation and least about the food. Most often I don't remember what I ate.

5.What I find most attractive in a person is their sense of humor, knowledge of their subject and the ability to speak well.

6. I find it tiring to have long phone conversations. After 5 minutes I get exhausted.

7.I get very annoyed when there is no milk or curd in the house.

I don't know if the world has become marginally more informed now that these 7 facts are out in the open.But it was a good exercise for me to think up something I may not have blogged about already.

So now it is time to pass on the award to 7 other Kreativ bloggers:

Suranga ( I know you don't do tags but I have to include you here because you are among the top creative bloggers for the choice of subjects).
Jane Turley (absolutely out of this world for the way she writes her posts)
Hiphopgrandmom (for blogging on unusual topics)
Hillgrandmom ( her posts are usually short but very thought provoking and I love her photographs)
Pam and Phil (both very creative people and have a wonderful blog detailing their adventures in this past year in India. The subjects of Phil's photographs are totally unusual )
Maami How can we talk of creative bloggers and leave maami out? Her subjects and style are completely awesome.
Last but not the least our beloved writer Parul who can make you smile about just about any subject she chooses to write about.

There is no pressure to do the tag but please accept the award. But if you want to do the tag, you need to share 7 facts about yourselves and pass on the award to 7 other creative bloggers.
Thank you.

Around 7 this morning a mason who works on the construction of a house on our street showed up at our gate  and asked me if the owner was in.

Now this conversation took place in our garage where I was standing next to the car with Zoozoo the puppy.  Legally, I am the sole owner of the house and the car. As for Zoozoo’s ownership, the other residents of this house would have no hesitation in telling you that I am the mother, guardian and sole person responsible for Zoozoo and all her actions. And that I guess would effectively make me her owner although Zoozoo certainly thinks she owns me. 

So I said ‘yes, I am the owner’. The guy laughed and said, ‘I want Saar, the owner’ and he stressed on the word ‘owner’ just in case I did not get it. That is when it dawned on me that ‘owner’ is a translation of ‘the Kannada word yajamanaru’ which means master, owner, husband et al. dating back to a time when the patriarch owned everything in the house including wife, farmhands etc.

What irked me was the fact that he laughed when I said I was the owner. Made me realize that my legal rights and status were of no concern to him. In his thinking, my husband would be the yajamana, the owner.

I am not a great fan of politically correct expressions but occasions like this make me wonder if such expressions might actually help in sensitising people to social changes and in changing stereotypes.

Stereotypes tend to get deeply rooted in our psyche and surprise us by showing up most unexpectedly. Bollywood stars are generally known for playing safe and being very correct in their statements . But on Saturday Abhishek Bachchan sprang a surprise by calling a lady who could not be much older than his wife as ‘aunty-ji’ on a game show hosted by him. The lady looked like someone in her late thirties. Even if she was in her late forties there is no need for a 35 year-old guy to refer to her as ‘aunty’.  I feel that it is all this aunty- ing that makes most women in this country ‘feel’ old by the time they hit their forties. Our society even has norms for the activities considered ‘appropriate’ for women of that age. Some people say that it is a cultural thing. We are not supposed to call elders by name.  I don’t know about that but I guess I speak for my entire generation of urban Indian women, that we would much rather be called by our names than be called aunty by anyone older than twenty-five unless they happen to be our own nephews or nieces or friends of our children.

Most of the time when people in their mid thirties call me as aunty I know that it springs more from their inner urge to feel younger than any respect for my age. And in any case, why respect someone just because they have been in this world for so many years? I guess getting rid of this respect-for-age concept would help us look for some genuine qualifications to respect a person rather than just a few gray hairs or a walking stick. The hypocrisy about all this ‘respecting elders’ thingy was pretty glaring while watching Mahabharatha on television. Duryodhan and his siblings would unfailingly –ji and –shree all the elders  like Thathshree, Kakashree and Brathashree while showing  gross disespect  and sometimes even contempt towards them. It would have made no difference had he called them ‘hey Bhishm’ or ‘yo Yudhishtr.’  Respect manifests through one’s demeanour and attitude and not merely by mouthing some words that are supposed to denote respect. I wonder how many women reading this feel very respected when they are 'auntyji'ed.

Are their similar words in your language or in English that irritate you?

I am no expert on marriage. The fact that you have been married for 30 years doesn't make you an expert to offer advice to someone else. Every marriage is unique and the answers to the problems in a marriage can be found only by the two individuals involved. It is a bit like life - the fact that you have lived for 50 or 80 years doesn't make you an expert on life. I am very conscious of all this and yet this is a post on some of my thoughts regarding so many things that seem to be going wrong with marriages in our society. This was triggered by a series of posts on IndianHomemaker's brilliant blog.

The other day on a Tamil television Channel, a young man was passionately lashing out against women's right activists and how they are , in reality, not helping women:
Have you noticed that in most of the cases it is girls who are educated and from relatively affluent backgrounds? By and large it seems that there is no harassment of women among the poorer sections. So does it tell you anything about the women who make an issue of harassment? A lot of it is because these women have a very low tolerance level, their expectations from the marriage are too high and they just (mis)use these laws to harass their husbands and their in-laws.
In my opinion, he was missing a lot of obvious points. Why are there fewer cases of harassment among the less affluent sections? Firstly their expectations from a marriage are very low. Sometimes their economic dependence on the man makes them accept a less than equal treatment in marriage. Many times it is also that they tend to be conditioned by conventional acceptance of male superiority or the stereotypical glorification of women as embodiments of patience, tolerance, sacrifice etc. For a list of these, we need to look no further than our television serials with phenomenal TRP ratings. Girls from poorer families also know that they are not welcome in their parent’s home if they take such problems to them. They would be promptly sent back to deal with these with patience and tolerance. So they soldier on hoping for things to change or at least develop the serenity to accept the things they cannot change as bad karma or fate and look for some positives in their life to keep them going.

The thing is that is you have grown up seeing the men and women around you behave in a certain way, you get used to that level of violence as 'normal'. I have seen families where men routinely raise their voice which is condoned in the name of pent-up stress at workplace finding release at home. If you watch Malayalam films, it is not uncommon to see men raise their hands on their women in the name of getting them back on track.
Things like this shock you only when you are from a different background or when you know that such behavior is against the law. So if there are less complaints from certain segments of the population, it is either from a higher level of tolerance or immunity to such behavior or because of ignorance . In many cases it is also the lack of support from one's own parents as IHM talks about in this post. It is indeed true that many of our girls cannot say “mere paas maa hai” (or pa / bhaiya/ behen hai). Once a girl is “married off” she is expected to adjust to her new lifestyle which is a healthy attitude as long as all is well with the marriage. But it is unfortunate that many families take this position even when the girl is subjected to harrassment and cruel treatment at the hands of her husband or his relatives. So the girl’s reaction to such treatment draws from her early experiences in life ranging from resignation and passive acceptance to resistance and revolt.

In most instances it is only girls with sufficient awareness of their right s and law who have been brought up in a democratic family who tend to raise their voice against such injustices and are willing to fight it legally. This has nothing to do with their being spoilt or their inability to adjust although there may be a few cases where it is true. In most of the cases, it is because they find their self-respect and dignity compromised by putting up with such treatment. Lesser tolerance to any cruelty will only make a society fair and just and civilized and hence there should be more support for girls who have the courage to speak up against such violence.

But what is disheartening and disturbing about such cases which come to light is that despite belonging to the more privileged sections of society, many of these are cases of dowry harassment. Now there are laws in India prohibiting the demand for dowry and yet we have educated people occupying important positions indulging in the practice. In the case of the airhostess who committed suicide on jan 1, the parents have gone on record saying that they paid close to 25 lakhs in cash as dowry and now they claim that the suicide was caused by dowry harassment. Why did they get their daughter married to a family that demanded dowry – was that not a clear clue to them about the family into which they were sending their daughter to live? And aren’t her parents equally guilty of encouraging dowry by agreeing to the demand and paying it? And what about the girl - an educated girl, pretty to boot with a job – why did she allow herself to be traded with dowry? Why did she not have the courage to say ‘no’ to their dowry demands? Now the parents are raising their voice on the grounds of dowry harassment - where did their awareness of law and rights go when they agreed to the dowry demand and abetted in a culpable activity? Are the laws of the land to be flouted at will and invoked at will, when it suits us? If only they had said ‘no’ at the time of dowry demand they might have a daughter alive today. Albeit unmarried but happy. But today even if they see the husband and his parents behind bars, will it get them back their daughter?

As for other cases of cruelty in marriages, perhaps it is time we introduced a contract in Hindu marriages too like the ones in Islamic and Jewish weddings where the obligations of each party are spelt down and violation of its terms is sufficient cause for divorce. It is true that our mantras too speak of the obligations of a husband and wife but unfortunately they are a little dated and in any case no one understands them. Additionally contracts have the flexibility to incorporate some clauses according to the individual’s concerned based on their expectations from the marriage, their levels of tolerance to what may be construed as cruelty etc. It is all fine to take a romantic view and talk about marriage being a sacred bond which is not to be reduced to the level of a mere contract. But the minute dowry enters the equation, a marriage is already reduced to the level of a commercial transaction so people might as well make the transaction water-tight and secure by having a proper, legally-enforceable contract in place.
When two strangers marry, it takes a while for the sacred bond to develop. The contract will keep things on course at least until such time as it will clearly spell out what they are entering into even if they cannot comprehend the vows of the Saptapadi. With the relationship between the individual and society becoming more tenuous, a legal contract is certainly a better option. A contract might also serve as a starting point from where the couple learn to develop trust, love and respect for each other and work toward the sacred bond envisaged by the traditional marriage system. But for beginners. a contract could be like that extra wheel on the bicycle providing a safety net.

A few days ago I was startled by the hysterical barking of Munni and the utterly funny puppy barks of zoozoo and rushed to check on the provocation. A tall, beautiful great Dane was at the gate curiously peeping in unperturbed by all the ruckus. Looked like she was making a social call.I was surprised that she was all by herself unchaperoned and wondered if she had managed to escape and was lost. Then I spotted a woman a few feet away calling out to the dog. Must be the domestic help of the dog's owners. So I asked her : hesaru enu? meaning what’s the name?”
She said “Rajalakshmi”.

I have heard some funny improbable names for dogs. My own before Munni was named Sabapathy.
I remember the time we were trying to decide a name for Munni. One of the maids thought she was very beautiful and hence should be named Divya. The other one thought we should name her Venkatesha after her favorite deity's name! Ya, it didn’t occur to this other maid that the sex of the dogs needed to be considered while naming them. Even Zoozoo was called Ramu by the guys at the truck under which she had made her home initially but she was quite ready to wag her tail and run to them without a murmur of protest!
In fact I know some friends who smirk when we refer to our dogs as He and she. They feel all dogs deserve nothing more than “it’. So how does it matter if IT is named Divya or Ramu or thotho as babies call them? But some of us do take our dog's names quite seriously. My husband tells the story of an uncle who had named his dog after a boss he hated. He thought he could have his revenge by swearing at the dog and ordering it about using the boss’ name. The plan misfired when he began to love his dog and finally had to change the dog’s name. We are all familiar with Aaamir’s Shahrukh khan of course!

I tend to judge people by the names they give their dogs. I was so upset when I saw an Alsatian named Rosy that I wanted to steal the dog or report them to CUPA - well, this is nothing short of cruelty when you inflict a delicate name on an impressive dog resembling a lioness. Julie is a suitable name for a Pomeranian , not an Alsatian. So I was a bit distressed when this lady said that the Great dane's name was Rajalakshmi and shared it with my husband. He snapped: “That dog’s name is Cleo.”
I was a little confused and checked with her the next day. Turns out Rajalakshmi is HER name and the dog's name is, indeed, Cleo!
hmmmm, I must be losing it but isn't 51 a bit soon for senility?
But then I have always been a little precocious!