Posts

clarity among confrontation

There is a line in a movie, Spanglish, that stayed with me for a long time. Simple line - “In the midst of confrontation, she found clarity.” It is a movie about a Spanish housekeeper in an American household and her daughter – in a pivotal conflict between them, where the daughter humiliates the mother in public, the mother finds clarity in middle of that conflict and asks the crucial question that will define their relationship and identity - "Is what you want for yourself, to become someone very different than me?". I ended up working few hours, despite being holiday today. In middle of very ambiguous or confusing or conflicting situation, I could find enough courage and clarity to take control and somehow paint a picture of where we are and what we should be doing.  I wonder how this works. Many times during such situations, people need confidence that someone would help to find a way through it and that confidence not coming from anyone around will make it progressively ...

irrational exuberance

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Woke up at 12:45 am, from a lucid dream - I was writing first two lines of a novel, someone was looking over my shoulder. I knew (or thought I knew) what the lines were when I woke up, wanted to write it down, but forgot soon after. Another early morning cab ride, driver was struggling with English, asked him "ulle varungala" (“can you come inside?”), surprised myself. I wish I can learn / be more confident to talk in Tamil. Despite being sleep deprived, was somehow feeling irrationally exuberant. Despite reading some complaints in emails which normally leaves faint irritation in the back of the mind. Full of ideas, full of optimism, wanting to smile, that nothing would faze me, feeling healthy. Feeling ok that whatever I may face, still would go through, let the feelings happen and try and enjoy the process. These are times when I think I should figure out all the parameters like a lab experiment – what led to this – what food I had, climate or what. If only that can be bott...

bougainvillea

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I came across this beauty today morning. In this campus, the gardeners have overdone themselves – some bougainvillea vines meshed with tall trees have flowers as high as two or three stories. It is one of my dreams to have the bright bougainvillea, like a flower explosion, in front of a house that I own. With a nomadic life for a decade, having lived in atleast ten or fifteen houses (lost count) so far in my lifetime and an apartment dweller for maybe half of it, this becomes even more of a sweeter daydream to have. Even though we have a dull pink colored (as the memes go, for me all of pink is pink) bougainvillea at the entrance of our current place, even if it is in the compound of the neighbor, who has sold the house and it is locked up now. Sometimes there is a clean, untouched flowerbed on the ground when it sheds it all at once. At office, we have a sort of inner courtyard, with a fake grass carpet and real big flowerpots. It is one of my favorite places to take calls, walk aroun...

la vida loca

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“Que mira, bobo?” (“What are you looking at, idiot?”) – Messi’s angry retort to a dutch player during the post match interview after 2022 world cup semi final. It was Messi’s “roudra” avatar in that match. I had been spending a few minutes with Duolingo, trying to learn Spanish. I have seen the memes of Duolingo Spanish, but then for me keeping this streak is helping to building some familiarity with the language. Enough to now etch phrases like above to memory. It is now third European language attempt for me. First was a brief encounter with German, during school. We were living in a house which was at the bottom of a hill, on the other side of which lived a recluse commonly known as “sayippu”. I believe he was a Malayali, vaguely remember someone saying he was with the army, may have been deployed in Germany, but then it could have been memory playing games. But somehow he knew German and somehow my father enrolled me in a summer class on German there. It was just three of us – a br...

late night cab rides

Late night cab rides through unfamiliar cities. I guess easy to say for a guy. But still. Pune, Bangalore, Kolkata, Hyderabad, Chennai. Families at juice places with small kids. A couple sitting on a roadside bench, catching up about the day. A girl boss learning on the bike and a guy with his elbow on her shoulder. People rushing home, bags on their back. Waiters with red ties in a bakery, even at this time. Time for the trucks and the roadside eateries. FM radio in the cab playing old songs. Life is just going full on busy in some parts of the world, people still trying to make ends meet.

song queue

My spotify usage must have spiked in last few weeks. One reason is this – a few accounts who post covers of old forgotten songs got into my Instagram algorithm and I keep adding them into spotify queue for later listen and some of them have been looping ever since. Readers of this blog (if there are), might know that for me lyrics is a big part (not so fortunate to just listen to the music irrespective of the lyrics). I was thinking today how blessed it is to be from the south of India – to equally enjoy Yesudas, Chitra, Ilayaraja, S Janaki, SPB, Sid Sriram in Malayalam and Tamil along with Lata, Kishore Kumar, Mohammed Rafi, Shreya Ghosal (she bridged all the language gaps btw) and Arijit Singh. We have been given enough to last a lifetime. Poove ponpoove – Yesudas, Ilayaraja nizhal pola naanum nadai poda neeyum thodarginra sondham nedungaala bandham (You walk, I am your shadow A relationship starts, till end of life.) naan seydha paavam ennodu pogum nee vaazhndhu nandhaan paarththaa...

pure souls

This past week, I happened to meet a few people who I could describe only as “pure souls”.  Brilliant in what they do, child like, no worries about how they look or talk, mostly in their own world, but warm when they include you in their world. Not “normal” – since most of us adults are conditioned to navigate this world with masks and not having masks feels like not normal, but then what is really the definition of normal and who defines it. First of them was someone I was looking forward to meet. He used to call me for silliest of reasons like can he try something which he found interesting, why wouldn’t that be possible etc. He didn’t seem to understand some things which I wouldn’t have to explain to others. There was a crowd, someone said there is him, he comes over and first thing I notice is his socked feet, no shoes. I wanted to ask what happened to the shoes but luckily didn’t. He is like a gentle giant, with large frame, long hair, long thick unruly whiskers. He introduces...