Its that time of the year again

I woke up this morning and was disoriented for a bit with the extreme silence around me. I then realize the ten day feast at my church down the road has drawn to an end yesterday.

Every August, my church celebrates this grand and colourful feast. Since I live four doors from this church, I can hear the festive singing like the choir was in my living room. For ten days prayers and hymns are offered throughout the day. On the other 355 days of the year, my road is one of the sleepiest in the city. But during the feast, the whole road is lit up with fairy lights and hundred of stalls selling everything from egg bhajis to glass bangles pop up.

Ever since I moved out of my hometown for studies and work, I have not had a chance to experience the whole ten days. This time around, I was surprised when i realized I missed these festivities. Every day on my way back from the evening prayers, I browse through the stalls. Though I have no intention of buying pink plastic guns or glittery purple bangles, the riot of colors is fun to watch. I was amused to note that this year's hot selling item were neon lit horns that every other person from grown men to little girls had perched on their heads.

Apart from the fun and festivities it amazes me how some of the traditions associated with this feast have been carried for more than a hundred years. Simple things like this about my town never cease to amaze me.

I was super excited to be experiencing all this after a long long time and decided to enthrall my sister on the phone. As I rattled on, she dryly replied that I sounded like a wannabe booker prize writer. Ah well I am going to pretend she meant it as a compliment.

Girl with a dragon tattoo

I have been hearing rave reviews about this book for some time now. Normally when the world is talking about a book or movie it usually disappoints me thanks to the high standards it has to meet.
This one however was quite the opposite. I had ordered it online and it arrived on a perfect day. The TNEB was once again was playing with my life and had decided to gift us with a day-long power cut. Just as I was wondering what I should do, this book arrived. I do not remember the last time I read a book for nine hours at a stretch. It truly was an engrossing piece of work and it had spooked me out enough to make me forego my nocturnal walks for a while.

The story is of my favourite genre – mystery/thriller. Set in Sweden , it not only is a classic murder mystery but also gives you a peak into modern Swedish economy and the country ‘s role during Hitler’s regime. None of the characters in the book are a clear black or white , they are all shades of grey including the protagonists.

Unfortunately like Heath Ledger, the author of this book Stieg Larsson did not live to see what a global phenomenon his work has turned out to be. The book is the first of a triology and I can’t wait to lay hands on the other two.

I was mortified to see that the books had already been made into movies (Swedish dubbed in English). I use the word mortified because i have seen many a beautiful book butchered by heartless film makers. Curiosity got the better of me and I watched it. As expected the movie was not as half as good as the book. My heart bleeds as I read yesterday that Hollywood will be re-making the movie next year. I already know that this movie will not have the essence of the original story. Yes i am little prejudiced. Something about a murder mystery in a East European country with a dark history lends it an eerie touch. I strongly doubt Americanizing it will have the same impact.
Really the movie has been dubbed in English, why cant you be happy with that? Why make an American version? Sigh I shall soothe my bleeding

A Wedding to remember

S had been planning her five day wedding for months now and when the day was finally near I was more that geared up for several reasons. I had always wanted to visit her home town, this was my first Muslim wedding and well of late I have been bored out of my brains.


So off I went to Kayalpatnam. I was quite looking forward to going to a place that literally meant city of fish. And I wasn't disappointed. It is the cutest little small town ever. Despite being just forty minutes away from my hometown, it couldn't be more different.

With a predominant Muslim population, the town comprises traditional style houses built around the mosque. All houses have separate entrances for men and women. The streets are a maze of quaint alleys and courtyards linking the houses together.

The wedding went on for five days , of which I stayed on for three days of undiluted fun. The wedding ceremonies were an eclectic mix of colorful clothes, yummy food and traditional rituals. My favorite part was when tambourine bearing girls danced around the bride and the women folk sang Arabic songs. I felt like I had been transported into a middle eastern movie!



Some of us guests took some time off to visit the famous Murugan temple in the neighboring town of Tiruchendur. A fifteen minute drive away from Kayalpatnam , Tiruchendur is a world apart. The temple situated on the beach may not have the grandiose of several other famous ones, but it does have a rustic charm of its own. We did an unsuccessful attempt to visit Valli's cave. A long queue in a claustrophobia enticing area discouraged us. Not before I was fascinated to notice that the cave had ceiling fans! This is something that I totally love about India, in matter of fifteens minutes you can be transported to a whole new world all together.

This post wouldn't be complete without mentioning two lovely people I met at this Wedding. Cat, English by race but Sri Lankan by heart. Choosing to work in Colombo she has embraced all things Sri lankan - Buddhism, black tea and iddiappam. The second blog worthy person was little Zain. Before I met this five year old gentleman, I had no clue who Ben-10 was or how cool he is.

So S thank for you the funtastic weekend and here's wishing you a fabulous life ahead!

500 days of summer

Colombo is underwater. We are sitting on the verandah of my grandparents house and watching the pool of water which until a few days ago was our lawn. My sister is cursing the rains which has deprived her of a visit to the mall. My aunt is cursing some cousin who has apparently betrayed her trust.

I hear the baker on his tricycle with his trade mark tring tring come down the street. Rain or shine, the "bread man" is at our doorstep every afternoon. And every afternoon my aunt buys me a sticky chocolate doughnut. She feels its her duty to carry one what my grandmother used to do. I have no heart to tell her that i actually hate the doughnut. As a child the only reason i insisted on those chocolaty buns was to squash it between my fingers till chocolate oozed all over. A messy ritual that annoyed my mother to no end.

My aunt is ranting about the evil cousin, but i am more focussed on trying to figure out what those little silver balls on doughnuts are called. I know i am going to be asked for an opinion so I start paying attention to the rants. My aunt exclaims in her exasperated fashion that just when you think you know someone they spring a surprise on you. I pause midway through my chocolate bun examination as I realize this is exactly what I had been thinking about a few days ago. Except mine was on a slightly more positive note. Have you ever had a friend who you sort of knew on a "hello how is the weather" basis. And never really ventured beyond that. But one fine day you really get to talk to this person and voila you actually have a wonderful conversation. You realize this friend is like that box on your loft - full of surprises and you wonder why you never saw that before. This enlightenment may be because your finally taking time out or may be its just Facebook. What ever it is, I'm raising my doughnut to the little surprises in life.
--

Reason number 324 why I am grateful for my small town existence

I have lived in a small town for two thirds of my life. I confess, my town has just one traffic signal which was inaugurated with much pomp. And yes when I first came to Madras as a child I thought the Anna fly over was like the coolest thing ever. This has often been a source of amusement for my city bred friends. (yes yes you know who you are)

But I wont complain much staying in the middle of the spectrum between the urban life and rustic village life isn't too bad. Last week actually gave me a chance to thank my stars for my small town roots. We had to attend my driver's daughter's engagement at a nearby village. So off we went on a hot Sunday afternoon.

Once the groom side arrived, all the men of both families sat around in a circle with a basket of salt in the center. While the entire village stood in the sidelines. I was truly fascinated by now. The "nattamai" (village head) then announced that they could start. I thought this was where the engagement ceremony begins. But no I was wrong, here was apparently the most important part of the day. The proceedings started with a random lady from the crowd shouting "so how much dowry are you giving your daughter?".Apparently directed at the bride's father. Random aunt's friend added" speak loudly we all want to hear". My fascination gave way to horror when I realized, the brides side was expected to answer in detail to all the questions thrown at them. My poor driver answered patiently on how much gold and cash he was going to give.

Finally a lady from the groom's side stood up (Who in my humble opinion should audition for Ekta kapoor's monster mom in law teledramas) She thundered "what only so much? this is disrespectful" . The bride's side squirmed and continued their negotiation. Eventually they came to a consensus that they would give the groom a gazillion grams gold chain. Ladies, how many of you out there would marry a man who not only demands but also wears something like that?OK we digress. As ridiculous as it looked, I really felt bad for bride's family.

Thankfully the negotiation drew to a close and the rest of the ceremony went on less melodramatically. As we drove back, I realized how clean the entire village was and how much relatively cooler it was. Mainly thanks to the rows of Neem trees. But still I am grateful for my small town existence. Thank you.

The man in the arena

It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.

Theodore Roosevelt

Real life drama.

I have often amused/annoyed/entertained friends and family with my borderline obsession with television drama series. More often than not, the ones that top the list do not top the TRP ratings.

Recently I sent my friend into a fit of cackles after I told her that sometimes I get the most pragmatic advice from my drama series. So to prove to her that I don't need help, here I am picking three "pearls of wisdom" imparted to me this week.

““Maybe some women aren't meant to be tamed. Maybe they just need to run free til they find someone just as wild to run with them.”
From Sex and the City

I've had to say good-bye more times than I may have liked, but everyone can say that. And no matter how many times we have to do it - even if it's for the greater good, it still stings. And although we will never forget what we've given up, we owe it to ourselves to keep moving forward. What we can't do is live our lives afraid of the next good-bye because chances are they are not going to stop. The trick is to recognize when a good-bye can be a good thing - when it's a chance to start again.
From Ugly Betty

"The problem with fairy tales is that they set a girl up for disappointment. In real life, the prince goes off with the wrong princess."
From Gossip Girl (hey the show isnt as shallow as it sounds!)