Wednesday, May 24, 2006
Scavenging and Packing Up
I'm moving base from Chennai to Mumbai. Hubby's getting transferred, and I'm following, as any dutiful wife should.
I've been scavenging at my mother's and father's ancestral homes for the new house. What they've thrown away as junk, I consider "Antique". I've been scavenging in the "Arai" (Literally room, but more like a dungeon - neither light nor air penetrates there easily) when I visited both ancestral homes last weekend.
Picked up quite a few things - An Uruli, an Eeya Chombu, A piece of wood which was once part of an Arai's wall, and was later framed as a wall hanging by one of my aesthetic aunts, a Kallan Bharani, a Para and an Idangazhi, a Chest of Drawers, a Letter Holder in wood, and many other stuff.
Dunno where I'm going to keep all these in my small Mumbai house, but I've asked my dad to engage Packers and Movers, and send all these to Mumbai soon.
This is an open invite for all my friends visiting Mumbai - do drop in and say a few oohs and aahs to make all the pains my dad will be taking to transport these worthwhile.
I've been scavenging at my mother's and father's ancestral homes for the new house. What they've thrown away as junk, I consider "Antique". I've been scavenging in the "Arai" (Literally room, but more like a dungeon - neither light nor air penetrates there easily) when I visited both ancestral homes last weekend.
Picked up quite a few things - An Uruli, an Eeya Chombu, A piece of wood which was once part of an Arai's wall, and was later framed as a wall hanging by one of my aesthetic aunts, a Kallan Bharani, a Para and an Idangazhi, a Chest of Drawers, a Letter Holder in wood, and many other stuff.
Dunno where I'm going to keep all these in my small Mumbai house, but I've asked my dad to engage Packers and Movers, and send all these to Mumbai soon.
This is an open invite for all my friends visiting Mumbai - do drop in and say a few oohs and aahs to make all the pains my dad will be taking to transport these worthwhile.
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
Leaving on Leave
It's gloomy time.
Am going on long leave from the organization i was working with for almost 6 years.
Having mixed feelings - looking forward to being at home doing whatever I put down here, but at the same time, definitely going to miss the daily routine.
Am going on long leave from the organization i was working with for almost 6 years.
Having mixed feelings - looking forward to being at home doing whatever I put down here, but at the same time, definitely going to miss the daily routine.
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
The Prompt
This is what resulted when I tried to take up the prompt posted by Kumari here.
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I am a bit of a curious cat… Well, not just a bit…. Ok, I admit, I am a curious cat!
I stay in an apartment block. I moved in last month. And my favorite hobby is looking out through the peephole of my front door. I share the stairwell landing with another flat. So much of the time I end up watching my neighbor across the landing.
I have not met my neighbor socially. He seems to be in his late twenties, and lives alone. He is an average looking person whom you’ll never remember if you’d seen him in a crowd. There is nothing remarkable about him. But I find his un-remarkableness intriguing.
Also he stays at home during the day, and doesn’t seem to do any work either. He collects the news paper and milk around 10:00 AM, when he comes out looking still sleepy. I have seen the maid letting herself in with a key in the morning – he probably doesn’t even get up till 10:00. The cook comes in around 11:00. I wonder – does he do nothing but read paper, sleep and eat?
I despise lazy young men. He seems to do nothing, and lives in the lap of luxury. No discipline in life – sleeping odd hours, and getting up whenever he wants? Back in the village, people get up early, and by sun-up, they are bathed and ready to face the day. They are industrious, and spend a busy day - the farmers toiling in the fields, and the new generation going to office.
The chime “Please closes the door. Dayavu saithu kadavai moodavum” of the lift sends me rushing to the peephole. It is visitors for my neighbor again. A young couple. Since it is almost tea-time, it looks like they’ve dropped in for a cuppa and a chat. I can hear faint music and laughter when I listen through my keyhole.
Seeing the time, I go into the kitchen and get the percolator running. I need to start preparing dinner. I think it’ll be chapattis today. I check the vegetable basket and start selecting the vegetables for the day’s subzi.
The lift chimed again, and this time when I peep through the door, it is my son coming back from work. I open the door and welcome him with a happy smile. Moving to the city from the village and living with my son had been a tough decision to make – but I do not regret it. I do miss my friends in the village, but keeping home for my son has given me immense satisfaction these days.
I can see love brimming from his eyes too. He loves have me around, and is happy that he can keep an eye on me, now that I am here. He used to fret so much when I was alone in the village!
He starts gossiping about what happened at work, while washing his hands, and freshening himself. I keep smiling and nodding while preparing his coffee. But there is one question that keeps nagging me, and I just have to ask him. While he sips his coffee I ask:
“This boy who lives in the opposite flat – doesn’t he have any parents or relatives? Why does he while away his time doing nothing? Doesn’t the apartment protest that he is lazing all the time?”
My sun burst out laughing!!! “Amma, who says he doesn’t work? Haven’t you seen him go out in the evening?”
“But… he goes out in the evening only… And that too regularly… I keep wondering what he’s upto – dressing in jeans, and fancy shirts, going out every evening. I have heard about the parties and nightclubs in cities – does he go everyday??? Where does he get the money for all this? And he looks such a straightforward guy too, not-at-all the bad type.”
“Ammaa… Amma..” My son interrupts. “He works in a BPO Amma. His work is at night when the other side of the world like USA is awake. He works in a late shift, and takes calls from people in America and answers their questions”
“Why should they call him and ask questions?”
“They don’t call him. They call a helpdesk, and any one of the people like him, assigned to the job will pick up the phone and answer their queries”
“But questions? What kind of questions?”
By then the lift chimes again. I am curious to see who is coming this time. As I rush towards the door, my son gives me a peck on top of my head and turns the TV on.
No one saw her son rolling his eyes towards heaven and thanking God for the chimes of the lift.
____________________________________________________________
I am a bit of a curious cat… Well, not just a bit…. Ok, I admit, I am a curious cat!
I stay in an apartment block. I moved in last month. And my favorite hobby is looking out through the peephole of my front door. I share the stairwell landing with another flat. So much of the time I end up watching my neighbor across the landing.
I have not met my neighbor socially. He seems to be in his late twenties, and lives alone. He is an average looking person whom you’ll never remember if you’d seen him in a crowd. There is nothing remarkable about him. But I find his un-remarkableness intriguing.
Also he stays at home during the day, and doesn’t seem to do any work either. He collects the news paper and milk around 10:00 AM, when he comes out looking still sleepy. I have seen the maid letting herself in with a key in the morning – he probably doesn’t even get up till 10:00. The cook comes in around 11:00. I wonder – does he do nothing but read paper, sleep and eat?
I despise lazy young men. He seems to do nothing, and lives in the lap of luxury. No discipline in life – sleeping odd hours, and getting up whenever he wants? Back in the village, people get up early, and by sun-up, they are bathed and ready to face the day. They are industrious, and spend a busy day - the farmers toiling in the fields, and the new generation going to office.
The chime “Please closes the door. Dayavu saithu kadavai moodavum” of the lift sends me rushing to the peephole. It is visitors for my neighbor again. A young couple. Since it is almost tea-time, it looks like they’ve dropped in for a cuppa and a chat. I can hear faint music and laughter when I listen through my keyhole.
Seeing the time, I go into the kitchen and get the percolator running. I need to start preparing dinner. I think it’ll be chapattis today. I check the vegetable basket and start selecting the vegetables for the day’s subzi.
The lift chimed again, and this time when I peep through the door, it is my son coming back from work. I open the door and welcome him with a happy smile. Moving to the city from the village and living with my son had been a tough decision to make – but I do not regret it. I do miss my friends in the village, but keeping home for my son has given me immense satisfaction these days.
I can see love brimming from his eyes too. He loves have me around, and is happy that he can keep an eye on me, now that I am here. He used to fret so much when I was alone in the village!
He starts gossiping about what happened at work, while washing his hands, and freshening himself. I keep smiling and nodding while preparing his coffee. But there is one question that keeps nagging me, and I just have to ask him. While he sips his coffee I ask:
“This boy who lives in the opposite flat – doesn’t he have any parents or relatives? Why does he while away his time doing nothing? Doesn’t the apartment protest that he is lazing all the time?”
My sun burst out laughing!!! “Amma, who says he doesn’t work? Haven’t you seen him go out in the evening?”
“But… he goes out in the evening only… And that too regularly… I keep wondering what he’s upto – dressing in jeans, and fancy shirts, going out every evening. I have heard about the parties and nightclubs in cities – does he go everyday??? Where does he get the money for all this? And he looks such a straightforward guy too, not-at-all the bad type.”
“Ammaa… Amma..” My son interrupts. “He works in a BPO Amma. His work is at night when the other side of the world like USA is awake. He works in a late shift, and takes calls from people in America and answers their questions”
“Why should they call him and ask questions?”
“They don’t call him. They call a helpdesk, and any one of the people like him, assigned to the job will pick up the phone and answer their queries”
“But questions? What kind of questions?”
By then the lift chimes again. I am curious to see who is coming this time. As I rush towards the door, my son gives me a peck on top of my head and turns the TV on.
No one saw her son rolling his eyes towards heaven and thanking God for the chimes of the lift.
