I dont like chennai all that much. I was born here but mostly grew up in front of the air conditioner. Hence I liked that roti-eating, mountainous cold place called…doon. I had an excellent staff who looked after my every need, enormous space to run and dig, ( I dont know why no one gives me any credit for that excellent garden I helped them make ) and some fans. I really liked the cold weather where I had my bed next to the heater and my staff would put on socks and jackets for my walks. Ah, whatte life. Chennai so far, has been pretty drab in comparison.

Its hot. Really really hot. I make mom and dad turn on the AC for me from 10 am and turn it off only when it rains. It rains pretty hard too. Dad explains that the sea is nearby and we get something called a cyclone which came as recent as last week and I dont like them at all either. Thankfully, dad’s blanket is good enough to cut off the sound and mom got some fabulous curtains so I don’t see any lightning. But coming back to Chennai, its dirty. Extremely dirty. I have to cross tons of human shit and other kinds of shit, not to mention carve my space in this rowdy city full of gangs that hide under rickshaws and parked vans. I hate them. I like a couple of guys living in the next lane but they are always angry and irritated and really big. My parents call them German Shepherds. Big annoying fellas. Don’t go near one if you spot one. There are a couple of cats that live next door. I dont mind them at all, but they are always meowing in my presence and mistake my calls for threats. Sigh, if only they understood.

I am very loved in my apartment. I maintain a small garden in the patio and lounge there when its not too hot.I found some really tasty food too. I really like McRenett’s milk bread, nilgiris’ paneer and Grand Sweets’ mixture. I can tell when Mom or Dad shop there. Its for me only mostly. Every week. I miss my Chotu and Chimmy though. Chimmy was a visitor since I was a kid but Chotu has gone off somewhere lately. I miss her a lot. I keep hearing a voice that sounds like her every sunday on one black machine that my dad or mom turns on, but I don’t know where she went. She misses me too, I know. We never spent a moment away from each other until two years ago. She left with Dad and these two big boxes and I thought she’ll be back in sometime but she never showed up for a year! Her last trip was fantastic. I showed her around and she met my friends. She left crying so hard, I couldnt even go and see her off at the door. Ah, sad times.

But hey, dad tells me she is coming. And mom too. I have to show mom the things I discovered under the sofa which the stupid maids never clean. I have missed her and her fruit bowl so much for the past half-year. Chotu is coming! That makes me doubly excited. I can’t wait to race with her to the terrace or show her how my efficiency at chasing crows has astronomically increased. I wish I could go visit her but everyone tells me the journey is terrible. My family will of course not put me through anything worse than a yearly injection. But its nice with mom and dad. Chotu and Chimmy know some of my secret tricks but mom and dad dont. Hence I keep myself entertained.

So folks, Happy New Year. What a start I’m gonna have. First Chotu and then Chimmy. Mom and Dad at home. There is nothing else I could ask for.

Loads of Love,

Whisky

The world is at its competitive best now. We are just fighting to gain that extra ounce of information or as Devdutta Pattanaik puts it – Sanatan. Because we didnt drink the elixir of contenment, we are always searching for something. Like that extra mile we want to go because someone has already been there, or that toy we want because our friend has it. Children provide the most blatant display of competitiveness and as adults we learn to mask it under the pretext of politeness, concern and nowadays just the word friendship. It is easier now than ever to look up a person and get all possible information without being in contact for 20 years or even being in contact now. It is easy to make friends, to upkeep friendships ( a hi on gtalk is so much easier compared to writing a letter, given the large-assed sloths we have been converted to).It is easier to access information about any and everything. All this media access has given us an all-encompassing ego where we pick our best photographs for the world to see, create online personalities, fake hobbies and do everything for an unknown reason. And most importantly has blurred the true meaning of friendship. We bare our hearts to these very people, since they are the support that we never get from a family but with statistics that show you are friends with the population of entire towns, you tend to wonder who is true and who isnt. Are people truly happy to hear you out? Are they smirking with inexplicable glee when you are feeling depressed. Do they secretly want you to fail so that they feel better themselves?

For women, talking is a cathartic process. I feel better when I’ve told someone what exactly is bothering me be it academically or personally. Its feels good to just share it with someone, giving it more reality and helps me cope with it when I acknowledge in e-ink or ink that the situation is real. But I wonder sometimes how much of it percolates as genuine concern and how much is just a part of everyone doing a silent jig at someone’s misfortune. I learnt multiple lessons all through, paid huge prices for my honesty but didnt seem to care because I always had a clear mind of having spoken the truth and being myself with everyone around. The same reason I kept close to a small set of people I was convinced are the true ones . But I realize time has come to change. This attitude is more harmful to me than anyone else and I’ve reformed now, to the ways of the world. I made a clear distinction of the ones who are rare and true and the countless others who are just names with a green bullet next to them.

Do not mistake me for being depressed or sad. I am infact the happiest I’ve been. (Ah, some happiness levels obviously sliding down). But this was an important lesson for me. In that sense, a very very important year as well.

It feels weird to think classes are done. From our earliest memories, a major chunk of our life has been in a classroom. Kindergarten, oh wait pre-school, school that lasts a good twelve fantastic years save for the last four, college and for me graduate school. It’s been twenty one years of classroom style education. It has it’s pros and cons but that remains an integral part of our lives so far. From the bench scribblers to the back bench rowdys or the front bench nerds, a class defined people and tagged them for life. To think that I won’t be sitting in a class , waiting for it to end by scanning my watch and wondering if a second was actually this slow, to mugging for exams and pulling all nighters over old papers and cheat sheets feels a little bad. But hey, I couldn’t actually wait for them to get over this time because frankly, I cannot be twenty four and still do homework!!!

That brings me to another milestone. The yet-another-birthday-ruined-by-exam-saga has finally ended.
Exams, ruining my birthdays since 1990. Adios.

It feels weird to think classes are done. From our earliest memories, a major chunk of our life has been in a classroom. Kindergarten, oh wait pre-school, school that lasts a good twelve fantastic years save for the last four, college and for me graduate school. It’s been twenty one years of classroom style education. It has it’s pros and cons but that remains an integral part of our lives so far. From the bench scribbling to the back bench rowdys or the front bench nerds, a class defined people and tagged them for life. To think that I won’t be sitting in a class , waiting for it to end by scanning my watch and wondering if a second was actually this slow, to mugging for exams and pulling all nighters over old papers and cheat sheets feels a little bad. But hey, I couldn’t actually wait for them to get over this time because frankly, I cannot be twenty four and still do homework!!!

That brings me to another milestone. The yet-another-birthday-ruined-by-exam-saga has finally ended.
Exams, ruining my birthdays since 1990. Adios.

When I was a little kid, my dad gifted me two special books. One was this thin red book that had a tribal or some international art form (I dont remember now exactly) and read “Folk Tales from around the World”. It was a special book for me for not only its stories and exotic settings ( Poland, Peru, Thailand etc.) but it had a different font. The paper was also a little creamish and felt so different. I always like the feel of a book. I like to hold the pages between my fingers and feel the page and admire the font settings and appreciate how beautiful some words look in print (wrapped is one such word – dont ask me why) and enjoy the prettiness of it all. Ok ok , I will stop ranting but you get the idea. So this book had this story about a little girl from Poland who had a lot of grudges against people. She was always miffed and angry and sported a scorn at all times on her face.No one liked her, she had no friends, she was never happy. Then one day an angel ( Now Im not sure if it was an angel or God but some holy spirit) decided to teach her a lesson. Every time she sprouted a grudge against someone, a brick appeared in her room. So as she kept getting angry with people, more and more bricks appeared. Slowly, they began to fill her room, her house and it became impossible to live. Her parents were desperate and did not know what was happening. Everyone was very unhappy, including the little miserable girl. One day she got an idea to drop grudges against people. And she did. As she forgave them, the bricks started disappearing and lo behold! not a single brick remained. The girl forgot about holding grudges and became a very happy little girl. They all lived happily every after.

So you might ask, what has this got to do with me. I realized about the “bricks” in my head. Of course as a child I thought they were real bricks which appeared, but the real meaning sunk in much later. I realize I was the one at a loss when I kept sprouting reasons to dislike people. And it was infectious. Then I thought of this story and realized well, it is only me who will be left miserable at the end of it all and started dropping grudges. As I went about clearing that pile of bricks I realized I was so happy and relaxed. I no longer had a reason not to talk to someone or remember misdeeds and heat up my brain. I could use that memory space for more beautiful and happy ones. Really, sounds like a lot of tosh on paper? No, trust me. It feels wonderful and I feel cleaner and lighter than I’ve ever been.

If Diwali is a time to clean, I think the timing is perfect. I have cleaned my most important asset, my head and am happier than ever. Im not qualified enough to ask anyone else to do so, but it is a wonderful feeling. I would really like to get my hands on that book again. It was lost in so many transfers. I will hunt it down though. ( It had this story about what mosquitoes really say when they humm near your ears- they are actually asking if you have their queen’s earrings!!)

On another note, the second book I was referring to was called “Popular Tales from Rajasthan”. It had a blue cover with a side-view face of a Rajasthani woman I’ve replicated like a zillion times. It had great stories, some ghostly, about Rajasthani princes and brides and forests etc. It was also where I first read the word “magnanimous” and impressed my first-grade English teacher with reasonably accurate usage. Sigh, fond memories.

Happy Diwali again folks! And happy degrudging!